#I’m a hundred percent that witch

[blastmewitches]

All About Abram Joel  McHale,  homosexual,  male  +  he/him→  attention  !  we  have  report  of  Abram Harkness,  otherwise  known  as  Agatha  Harkness  has  been  spotted  within  the  area.  we  have  reason  to  believe  they  have  the  power  of  spell  casting,  power  absorption,  and  magical  energy  manipulation.  they  are  known  to  be  knowledgeable  and  quirky  but  also  can  be  manipulative  and  selfish,  so  please  proceed  with  caution  when  approaching  them.  S.H.I.E.L.D.  has  reported  that  they’re  of  a  cinema/616  variant,  so  be  warned  !

BASIC INFO

full name — Abram Harkness also known as — Abe / Detective Abraham O’Conner/ keeper of the darkholdage —Who’s counting at this point?gender — cis male, (he/ him/ his pronouns)orientation — homosexualclothing style — eclectic (he’s collected quite a bit over the years) but sweats, flannels/tight fitting graphic t-shirts, and trench coats are the norm. Don’t be surprised to see him in a double breasted suit during the day and leather sandals and bell bottoms that night though.

PHYSICAL INFO

face claim — Joel McHale Hair—brown with flecks of gray / eyes —greyheight — six foot & five inchesbuild — like a brick shit house. Muscular arms, six pack abs, and hours at the gym have built a firm and a tight ass. Compliments are not only appreciated they are the point. scars —pitch black fingertips with a light almost ash like coating covering his knuckles. tattoos — a black and white rendering of señor scratchy above his ass piercings — one in each ear (a small black stud in either ear is the norm), nipple piercings, nose piercing it was the nineties okay?powers — spell casting,  magical energy manipulation and absorption, and mediumship

PERSONALITY

positive traits — knowledgeable, experienced , quirky, independent, resilient negative traits — snarky, arrogant, cruel, selfish, violent, self-centeredhobbies — drinking, studying, singing, murder.

MEDICAL INFO

mental — yes he hears dead people what do you expect?physical — Do you know anyone else over three hundred years old?phobias — losing his powers, facing the consequences of his actionseyesight — near sighted (a recent development) dominant hand — right handalcohol use — two beer a day habitdiet —Pescatarian

SPICY INFO

sexual preference —versekinks — breeding, dirty talk, corruption, hair pulling, rough sex, choking, daddy kink, body worship, rimming (giving), ass worship (giving) collars + leashes, younger tops.anti-kinks — intimate partner violence.

BACKGROUND

birthplace —Salem, Massachusetts parents — an unknown father & Evanora Harkness (deceased) if only they would just shut up —n/anotable skills — extensive knowledge of the occult and magick, some knowledge of horticulture, songwriter, storyteller, fluent in English and Spanish (both spoken with a strong Massachusetts accent), a decent tenor,

BIO

TBD

[magpiesbones]

Would Witch Hat Atelier Characters Do Drugs?

Qifrey: does weed if there is absolutely No possibility of children around. Used to smoke cigarettes and quit. Did hard drugs one (1) time and had a bad trip.

Olruggio: quitting cigarettes. Has weed gummies. The quitting is in progress bc he gets stressed out when he’s on a deadline. He’s working on it.

Mr. Noloa: doesn’t do drugs. He’s very busy and Drugs takes time he doesn’t have and could be doing something else with.

Beldaruit: does shrooms.

Alaira: weed gummies but only when not around kids.

Easthies: thinks all drugs are Morally Wrong and Bad. Has never done A Drug Ever.

Lulucy: Morally neutral on drugs but doesn’t do them bc she doesn’t like the idea of not being in full control of herself.

Utowin: has a flavored vape and is the most annoying person in the world with it.

Eko and Etlan: do shrooms with beldaruit. it made Easthies Very Mad when he found out.

Vinnanna: stoner. doesn’t let it interfere with her duties as Wise but off duty she is wizard high.

Sinocia: weed gummies exclusively BUT would shotgun from Ermile if she asked.

Ermile: only does drugs with Sinocia when she is offered a gummy. Does not know what shotgunning is.

the kids: BABIES!!!! No drugs. Too small too young. (Adult Agott would be a stoner)

King Deanrealdy: does homemade cocaine.

New Wise in Friendships: aware of his responsibilities and does not do drugs. He needs to be able to Politic at a moments notice.

Old Wise in Friendships: also did King Dean’s basement cocaine.

corollary kings: too busy ruling the continent to do any drugs. They do not know about the basement cocaine and would not try it if they did.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 7

Word Count- 5.3k

Warnings- Swearing, stabbing, Elijah wanting to hold hands, witch trials

A/N- KLAUS NEXT CHAPTER BABIES!!!

“I don’t understand why you grown men keep dragging me into your shit,” I groan to Alaric as he parks his car. I cling to my seatbelt and regret ever answering my phone this morning. I really just have to throw my phone away at this point. 

“I don’t trust him around Jenna, Y/n. I have a bad feeling about the guy,” Ric says as he undoes his seatbelt and begins to exit the car. 

“That or are you just jealous?”

I raise an eyebrow and purse my lips at him and he leans down to stare at me with an annoyed look.

“Get out of the car Y/N.”

I watch as Ric makes his way from his side of the car to mine, but just as he’s about to open my door I press down the lock from the inside. I smirk at him as he tries to open the door but it doesn’t budge. He stares down at me annoyed and then presses his key fob unlocking the car. He tries to open the door but I mimic my actions from before and lock the car again. We continue doing this for another 2 minutes before Ric gets the better of me and throws open my door. 

“Seriously, Y/n!”

I huff and practically crawl out of the car. 

“For the record, I would rather jump in front of a train than be here,” I say matter-of-factly to Ric as we catch sight of Jenna and Elijah walking up a grass path together.

“For the record,” Ric waves at them and then turns his head towards me, “I don’t care.”

Once again I groan as we make our way towards Jenna and Elijah. I lock eyes with the latter and he sends me a warm smile. I don’t reciprocate and quickly turn my eyes towards Jenna. I can still feel Elijah’s eyes on me, as always, as we stand in front of Jenna and him.  

“Uh, Elijah, this is my friend,” Jenna, who seems to be annoyed, introduces Alaric to Elijah, “Alaric Saltzman. And you’ve already met Y/N,” Jenna turns to me and seems much more happy to see me.

Ric who can’t seem to catch a clue speaks, “Ya, I got your, uh, message about walking Elijah here through the old property lines. I thought I, uh we,” He gestures to me, “would, uh, tag along. You know us being history buffs and all. Where to next?”

An awkward silence follows for a moment before Elijah breaks it, “I’m pretty curious about the freed slave property owners. Some say, you know, the descendants of the slaves are the true keepers of American history.”

I am almost one hundred percent sure Mr. Suit and Tie has an ulterior motive but Jenna doesn’t seem to catch it as she tells him she has the stuff in her car and that she’ll go grab it. I watch as she walks away and then turn back to the two men next to me. Elijah stands about a foot's width away from me while Ric is to my right. Ric must’ve noticed Elijah’s staring as he moved himself in front of me. If you didn’t want me to be around Elijah why bring me here? Dumbass. 

I can still see Elijah from over Ric’s shoulder and the movement Ric made doesn’t seem to sit well with Elijah as a small twitch in his upper lip presents into a snarl. He drops back into a neutral look almost instantly. 

“So you’re one of those people on Elena’s list of loved ones to protect,” Elijah says to Ric. Even though Elijah is relatively shorter than Ric the aura Elijah protrudes makes up for it. Anyone could tell that even though Ric is trying to put up a macho front, he’s afraid of Elijah. 

“So is Jenna.”

Elijah smirks at Alaric and then shakes his head slightly, “You don’t have to be jealous. I don’t really pursue younger women,” Elijah’s eyes trail to mine momentarily, “Most of the time.”

Elijah turns back to Ric and they stare at each other for a moment before Elijah pats Ric on the shoulder, “It’s a joke, Ric, lighten up.” 

Ric rolls his eyes and nods. 

“Wait,” I speak and turn to Elijah, “Technically isn’t every woman younger than you? You know, since you’re like old. Really old. ”

Ric just brings a hand up to massage the tension between his eyebrows and sighs deeply, but Elijah lets out a small chuckle that sends shocks down my spine. 

“I guess you’re right Y/N. I am really old,” He mimics my tone with a small smile on his face. 

—

35 minutes. We’ve been walking in this dirty ass forest for 35 minutes. I should be in bed asleep right now. But nope, here I am following behind three adults as they talk about history. It’s not that I don’t like history, I do, it’s just that it’s a Saturday. I shouldn’t be learning things on a weekend. 

I half-heartedly listen to what Jenna is telling Elijah as we cross over a bunch of fallen tree logs. Alaric helps Jenna over one, and I don’t miss the dirty look she looks she shoots him, making me try to cover my giggle with my hand. The giggling instantly stops though when I see Elijah standing by the front of the log with his hand outstretched towards me. We haven’t talked in these 35 minutes since Jenna has been occupying him, but that hasn’t stopped him from turning back every few moments to catch a glimpse of me, as if he thinks I’m just going to disappear into thin air. Honestly, I wish I would.

I’m not going to use Elijah’s help but realize that my clumsy ass would probably fall over the log if I didn’t. So I lightly place my hand into his, which results in him closing his hand over mine. Locking our hands together. Our hands are locked for a long moment before Ric clears his throat from the other side of the log. I quickly look away from Elijah and use his hand to get over the log carefully. I soon as I get over it though I wrench my hand away from his and walk over to Jenna who sends me a warm smile. 

“Seems like someone is fond of you,” She whispers to me as she raises his eyebrows suggestively.

I can already feel the redness making its way onto my cheeks as I stare at her horrified. Jenna just laughs at my face as she starts leading us farther down the trail we’re on. Sadly though, Alaric has occupied Jenna, which leaves Elijah to walk next to me. 

Elijah’s quiet for a moment, seemingly just enjoying my company before he starts speaking, “Is it true what Alaric says,” I turn to him confused, “That you’re a history buff?”

I sigh slightly as I shrug my shoulders realizing that just talking to the guy might make this little trip go by a little faster.

“I wouldn't call myself a buff,” I use my fingers to make air quotes, “but it’s also not something I dislike. Learning about how our world was made and all the small factors of why it was made are quite intriguing. I also like weird history.”

“Weird history,” Elijah questions me with a frown.

“You know, like the unexplained, or the odd things in history that many don’t understand,” At the still confused look on his face I continue, “You know like the dancing plague of 1518, D.B Cooper, or Oh! The lost colony of Roanoke. That’s probably my most favorite.”

Once I realized that I had just gone on a tangent I went to apologize to Elijah but when I look at him all I can see on his face is pure adoration. The type of adoration that makes the beating in my chest stops. He smiles at me and from being so close to him I notice the small dimple on his left cheek. 

“I understand now,” Elijah says, “You seem to be most interested in The Roanoke Colony. Why is that?”

I ponder his question for a moment, “I’m not sure, it’s just something I’ve always been drawn to. Maybe because of how mysterious and odd it is. I’m not sure, I know that some people say it was aliens or cannibalism but there isn’t a known answer. It’s amazing to me that so many people, an entire village, can go missing and there are no clues. Other than the word Croatoan!”

Elijah nods his head along but the look in his eyes and the smirk on his face tells me he’s hiding something. Wait. Holy shit.

I whip around to him stopping us, “You know, don’t you! I mean you’re old enough but I didn’t even think you would…,” I stop and stare at him in awe for a moment, “You have to tell me.”

Elijah opens his mouth but then I shake my head and throw a hand up to his mouth stopping him, “Wait! No, what if you tell me and it ends up disappointing me.”

I go through all the possibilities in my head at what he could tell me and then fight myself on whether I should have him tell me or not. I can feel Elijah’s smile behind my hand and bring my hand back.

“Sorry,” I wince embarrassed. 

“No worries, I enjoy seeing you so full of life,” I blush at his words, “Would you like me to tell you?”

I think about Elijah’s question for a moment and then shake my head, “No. I think the reason I love that moment in history so much is because of the mystery behind it. I don’t want to lose interest in it by knowing.”

Elijah seems pleased with my answer and nods, “Very well.”

We continue walking for another moment before Elijah chimes up again, “What else interests you?”

I shrug my shoulders, “Nothing much, I’m not a very interesting person.”

“I highly doubt that.”

I smile slightly at his comment, “Well I like reading. That’s actually something Elena and I have bonded on. I used to get bullied for being a book nerd but now having someone who likes it too is comforting.”

At this mention of Elena, Elijah’s smile drops slightly but then turns into a small frown. 

“I’m sorry that you were bullied for reading, as a literature connoisseur myself I find it quite depressing how reading has become something so rare in these past decades. What types of books do you read?”

I nod along to Elijah’s words until he asks what books I read. At this, I instantly get red and look anywhere other than him.

“You know,” I try to find a socially acceptable answer. Not really wanting to tell this 1,000-year-old man I spend my free time reading smut, “Literature.”

“Literature?”

Elijah looks at me with a smirk on his handsome features and I just nod and clear my throat, “Yep, literature. Just all the literature.”

“What about you? What literature do you like?”

Elijah laughs slightly at my change in subject, “Literature in general as well,” I roll my eyes at his joke, “But also I appreciate all types, Historical, the classics, thriller, even romance.”

“You read romance,” I ask surprised. 

He nods his head, “On occasion. There’s something so unique about how different authors portray love and devotion. Where some show it as a neverending, intense emotion others show it as one’s demise.” 

“And which do you believe?”

This question has Elijah pausing momentarily, thinking, “I’ve lived a long time, Elskan. Seen people start wars in the name of love, and seen people kill and die in its name aswell. To choose just one thought when it comes to the idea of love is something I can not do. What about you, what are your thoughts on love?”

“I want nothing to do with it.”

Elijah goes quiet for a moment at my answer. I face back forward and we keep walking in silence for another moment.

“I understand your reluctance towards it. But still young why cut off something like love at your age?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his words. My age has nothing to do with my hatred and distaste for love. 

“Don’t tell me all that romance you read is getting to your head, Elijah,” I say to him slightly snarky.

“I’ve struck a nerve,” Elijah says as he nods his head. 

“Nope. No nerves struck here,” I tell him picking up my speed and walking away from him. He doesn’t have to try hard to meet my speed though as he falls back into step with me. 

“Even though there have been no nerves struck,” He tries to lighten the tension with a joke, “I must apologize for overstepping. As I’ve said before, making you uncomfortable is the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

I move my gaze from Jenna’s back, who is currently in a small argument with Alaric, and turn to look at Elijah. Once again his face has no signs of malice or ill intent.

“It’s fine,” I shrug at him, “Like I said no struck nerves.”

Elijah slightly laughs and then nods his head. We walk for another 5 minutes in silence, Elijah helps me over logs and rocks whenever we come up to one. 

“Y/N and I should be heading back now,” Alaric tells the group as we get to a clearing. 

I nod, happy to be getting out of these woods.

“Well, thank you Y/N for coming today, I’m sure you had more exciting things to do today,” Jenna smiles at me and jokes.

“Just sleeping. But it was nice to see you Jenna,” I reluctantly look over to Elijah who hasn’t left my side, “You as well.”

This has Elijah’s deflated shoulders rising again. He almost reminds me of a dog that is happy someone is finally giving it an ounce of attention. 

“It was a pleasure to be able to spend this morning with you, Y/N,” I’ve noticed that Elijah calls me by my actual name when other people are around. But, when it is just him and I, he uses that stupid nickname. 

I nod as I go to follow Alaric back to the car but stop and turn back to Elijah, “I guess I’m not one-hundred percent against love,” This perks Elijah up, “I mean I totally loved the dress I wore to the tea party.”

Elijah lets out a deep chuckle that rattles his broad shoulders, “You weren’t the only one.”

I almost choke on my saliva at his words. Elijah’s smirk deepens and I put my lips together and nod my head fast.

“Well, um. I’ll be going now,” I don’t give Elijah time to respond as I speed walk past him and Jenna and grab Ric’s forearm pulling him roughly behind me.

“Keep up,” I whisper yell at him as we speed walk our way to the car. 

—

The original plan was that Ric and I would go on that stupid history walk and then after 30 minutes he would bring me back to my house, but of course, no one in this god-forsaken town follows any type of deal. So that’s why I am currently sitting in front of Demon and his “girlfriend,” and next to Ric who are talking about Elijah and how they don’t trust him. Thankfully Damon bought me fries so this whole trip hasn’t been an entire waste. I half-ass listen to their conversation but don’t really care so I don’t process a word they’re saying, at least not until Damon perks up.

I’ve come to learn from my time in knowing Demon that if I see him getting excited about something, someone is going to get hurt. 

So that’s why I follow his line of sight and see Elijah and Jenna walk into the Grill together.

“Ah, there Jenna with her new boyfriend,” Damon says. I know he’s just trying to get a reaction out of Ric but something about that sentence makes my skin crawl. 

Damon calls over both of them. Jenna welcomes all of us with a smile and wave while Elijah trails behind her looking complacent. As always his eyes find mine and his complacent smile lightens. 

“So I hear you two had a meeting of the historical minds today,” Damon speaks to the two.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Jenna smiles looking up at Elijah who is now looking down at Demon. 

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue this, I, uh, I’ve got papers to grade and a teenager to get home,” Ric gets up from his seat and he gestures to me. I frown as I see my fries still half full and quickly grab a fist full and fill my mouth trying to get away with as many as possible, almost choking myself in the meantime. The adults around me watch me with a mix of amusement and slight disgust, but I don't care. I’m not wasting free food. 

“No, you know what,” Alex or Stephanie or whatever Demon’s girlfriend is named, chirps up, “We should continue this. Let’s have a dinner party!”

Hell to the no. 

“Ooh, my girl. Full of good ideas,” Damon looks over to her before turning back to us, “I’ll be happy to host. Say tonight. Maybe?”

“It’s good for me. Jenna,” Where Alessia agrees Ric tries to disagree. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” Jenna talks over Ric. Yikes. 

“Will the lovely Y/N be there,” Elijah asks me and I try to tell him, “Hell no,” but the fries in my mouth have left me mute.

“Of course, she’ll be there,” Damon exclaims as if there isn’t any other place I’d rather be. I send him a nasty glare which earns me a wink in return. 

“Then it’d be a pleasure.”

Damon’s smile is all but welcoming as he responds to Elijah, “Great.”

This is going to be a horrible night. 

—

This is a horrible night. 

First I get a nasty grade on my modern art project. Not my fault, since modern art is a crime against humanity. 

Then, I try to find a dress for this stupid dinner and the only half-decent dress that I have now is two inches too short.

And then after I said screw it, put the dress on and finished getting ready. I went down to my car only to find out that my front tire had gone flat. Honestly in this case I was happy about it because I had a reason to cancel, but when I called Jenna and told her the “upsetting” news, she told me she’d come pick me up. Great. 

So now I’ve been sitting on my front porch waiting for Jenna. After waiting for fifteen minutes I was close to just calling it quits and telling Jenna the fries from earlier made me throw up on myself. But, right when I stand up a dark sedan pulls into my driveway. Wait. I know that sedan. Damnit. Why the hell is Elijah here?

As if he could read my thoughts Elijah pretty much glides out of his car looking practically god-like in yet another five-thousand-dollar suit and smiles at me. 

“Good evening, Elskan,” Elijah walks up the walkway to stand before me, “Miss. Sommers so kindly asked me if I could escort you to the dinner tonight. To which I happily obliged.”

“Right,” I sigh, “Let’s just get this night over with.”

I walk to Elijah’s car as he follows me, just like before he opens the door for me. I send him an appreciative nod and get in. After another moment we’re driving down the dark road towards the boarding house. 

“You look breathtaking, Elskan,” Elijah says to me from his position in the driver’s seat. 

“Thanks,” I turn to him and look at his usual attire, “You look the same.”

He chuckles, “Yes, you always seem to remind me of my attire. Thank you for that.”

“Always here to help.”

We drive in comfortable silence for the entirety of the trip until we get to the Salvatore’s driveway.

“How are you feeling about tonight,” Elijah’s tone is flat but as he looks at me his eyes are filled with what I believe to be suspicion.

“You mean, do I think something bad is going to happen?”

Elijah’s upper lip twitches, “Aren’t you a smart one? But yes, I am not going to threaten you Elskan. I would never do that, but,” At that, I’m tensing in my seat, “I need to know if your friends are planning something, unbecoming, tonight.”

At Elijah’s serious tone, I shake my head, “I don’t know anything. Promise,” Elijah doesn’t seem to be entirely pleased with my answer, and something in me wants to fix that, “But, I do know that Damon is not one to have friendly dinner parties so,” I look at him uneased but speak in a strong voice, “Be on your guard tonight.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Elskan.”

— 

Elijah and I stand side by side as he knocks on the front door. We wait only a moment before a smirking Demon opens it up,

“Thank you both for coming,” Damon says a little too nicely, “Y/N don’t you look adorable. Come on in!”

Elijah places his hand on my lower back, “Just one moment. Can I just say that if you have less than honorable intentions about how this evening is going to proceed, I suggest you reconsider.”

“No, nothing, nothing dishonorable. Just, uh, getting to know you.”

“Hmm, well, that’s good.”

“Yeah,” I watch this back and forth waiting for something bad to happen. 

“Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal if you so much as make a move to cross me I’ll kill you and I’ll kill everyone in this house,” And there it is, “Except Y/N and Miss. Sommers of course. Are we clear?” 

“Crystal,” Damon eyes Elijah wearily. And then Elijah leads me into the house as Jenna enters the room.

“Jenna, wonderful to see you again. How are you?”

“I’m seriously getting whiplash from you man,” I whisper so only Elijah will hear. The only response I get is a slight squeeze to my waist as he pulls me closer and away from everyone else who has entered the room to greet us. His right-hand stays resting on my upper hip. 

“Let’s eat.”

—

“I hate to break it to you, Damon,” Jenna says to Damon as she pours him a glass of wine, “But according to Elijah your family is so not a founder of this town.” 

“Hmm, do tell,” Damon responds. Damon sits at the head of the table sipping his wine as he stares at Elijah, who is currently sitting next to me on my right. Alaric sits to my left and Jenna and Abby sit across from us. I should really learn her name. There’s also this balding white man who is sitting across from Damon at the other end of the table but no one here seems to want him here.

“Well, as I mentioned to Jenna earlier a faction of settlers migrated from Salem after the witch trial in the 1690s. Over the next hundred years, they developed this community where they could feel safe from persecution.”

“Hmm, because they were witches,” Jenna chimes in.

“Yeah, there’s no tangible proof there were witches in Salem.”

“Andies a journalist. Big on facts,” Oh, so that’s her name. I liked Andrea more.

“Well,” Elijah sets down his fork and starts talking again, “the lore says that there was this wave of anti-witch hysteria. It broke out in the neighboring settlement. So these witches were rounded up. They were tied to stakes in a field together and, uh, burned,” Elijah says as if it’s something anyone wants to hear while they’re eating steak dinner, “Some say you could hear the screams from miles around us. They were consumed by the fire. Could you pass the,” He gestures to the salt and Ric passes it to him wearily. 

“I wouldn’t repeat this to the Historical Society,” Jenna says which has me wanting to roll my eyes at the mention of those bags.

“Maybe you should,” I say to myself but have seemed to catch the attention of the table. Shit.

“I’m just saying it would knock them down a peg, which is clearly needed,” I whisper out the last part, “Even though there is no proof of witches being burned at the stake during the trials. It was mostly done from self-drownings and using rocks.”

At my contradiction to Elijah’s statement he raises an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

“Self-drowning and rocks? How would that work,” Jenna questions with a slight stutter clearly having had a little too much wine.

“Well with the drowning it was more of a test,” I use fingerquotes at the word, “So to speak. The witch in question would be tossed into a body of water and if she was able to stay afloat she was condemned as a witch and was killed. But if she didn’t float, well. Y’know. So I mean either way it was just a way to punish women for being women. They used the rocks though to stone the people to death. Interestingly enough one of my ancestors was actually killed that way. R.I.P.”

I laugh at my little joke at the end which has earned me a few stares from the people at the table.

“Ok, moving past whatever that was,” Damon says as he turns back to Elijah, “So why do you want to know the location of these alleged massacres?”

Elijah thinks for a moment before smiling, “You know… a healthy historian’s curiosity, of course.”

“Of course,” Damon replies to Elijah who has already gone back to taking a bite out of his steak. I bring my glass of water to my lips and take a sip but start choking on it when I feel a hand gently grab my other one from under the table. 

“Y/N! Are you ok,” Jenna exclaims from her side of the table as Ric pats me on the back, I put up a thumbs up and try to smile.

“Yep all good. Just,” I cough out a bit more, “went down the wrong pipe. Don’t mind me.”

Even though I almost choked, Elijah still hasn’t moved his hand from mine. Instead, his fingers have begun tracing shapes into my skin. I know I should feel disgusted, but I can’t seem to want to move his hand away. He looks at me momentarily as if to check I’m ok. To which I send him a small nod. This in return makes him smile and grab a hold of my hand more firmly now.

Damon's standing distracts me momentarily, “Does anyone care for some cognac? I have a bottle I’ve been saving for ages.”

God, me, please.

“None for me, thanks. Nine bottles of wine is my limit,” Alaric says as he downs yet another glass of wine. Jesus dude, try water sometime. 

This has everyone standing from the table. Ok then, guess I’m done eating. 

“The gentleman should take their drinks in the study,” Anna says. 

“How 1950s of you Alice,” I smile at her sarcastically.

“My name is Andie,” She says back.

“Is that not what I said,” I smile at her as I walk past her into the study. I don’t even want to go in here with them but I’m doing it to stand on principle. And that I’m kind of an asshole. But that’s not my fault since I was awoken this morning before I was able to get my full 13 hours of shut eye.

—

My fingers graze the dozens of books I walk by as Damon and Elijah converse behind me. It surprises me that Damon has so many books, when he’s so dumb. Weird. 

“Are these Stefan’s?”

Damon spares me a moment's glance, “No, they’re mine.”

I hum. Weird. Maybe he just doesn’t have comprehension skills.

“So, let me guess, in the addition to the moonstone, the doppelganger, the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe… You need to find this witch burial ground.”

“Because I feel as though we’ve grown so close, Damon,” Elijah’s words have me chuckling as I flip through a book that seems to be at least one hundred years old, “I’ll tell you yes. Do you know where it is?”

“Maybe,” Damon’s answer has Elijah walking over to him, “Tell me why it’s so important.”

“We’re not that close.”

Damon getting rejected has me snorting which catches Elijah’s attention as he smiles up to me. He notices the book I have in my hands and speaks again to Damon.

“It’s quite a collection you have here. It is a funny thing about books. Before they existed people actually had memories.”

I go to make a snarky comment at Elijah’s words but Ric comes storming into the study. 

“Gentlemen,” I clear my throat and Ric looks at me, “And Y/N. We forgot about dessert.”

Addison comes over to Elijah and raises a hand for him to take, which has a nasty feeling starting in my gut. But before it goes too far Elijah turns to me instead and reaches out his own hand, “Y/N.”

I have to fight back a snort as we walk by Amelia Bedelia as Elijah leads me into the dining room where Jenna is.  

“Sorry, guys, dessert is taking longer than I thought,” Jenna’s words have me physically deflating, “I usually just unwrap food.”

Elijah leads me to a chair and moves it so I can sit down. He sits next to me and Audrey sits across from us. 

“So, I know this is a social thing but I, I would really love to ask you some more questions about the work that you’re doing here,” She asks Elijah who agrees. I’m quite interested in what he’s going to say since he’s created this big lie surrounding, Elijah Smith.

“Great,” She continues as Damon enters the room, “Oh, that’s so great. Ric, would you do me a favor and grab the notebook out of my bag?”

She instructs Ric as Elijah’s hand finds its way back to my hand.

“Elijah, did John tell you that he’s Elena’s uncle/father?’’

Damon’s question has me sitting up right.

“Huh?!”

I look between Damon and the balding man next to me and wonder how he was able to produce a girl as pretty as Elena. Also now I’m pissed and kind of sad no one has told me this before.

“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Even Elijah knows?!

“Of course, she hates him, so there’s absolutely no need to keep him on the endangered species list.”

Now I don’t feel bad for thinking he looked like Charlie Brown earlier. 

Adeline says something to Ric but now my full focus is on Elijah's fingers which are now grazing up and down my hand that lays on my thigh.

I can hear Dead Beat saying something to Elijah but the words won’t focus as I try to calm my breathing. Elijah’s deep voice enters my ears as I hear him threatening the two men but the soft touching hasn’t gone away. 

I’m almost comforted by the feeling now until the once soothing feeling is replaced by his hand crushing my thigh. My yells are mixed with what I’ve just now realized are Elijah’s as he crunches up in pain. A loud scream escapes my lips as I see a dagger protruding from Elijah’s back and can only watch in horror and pain as Elijah’s once soft and light skin turns to grey and veining flesh. 

I blink rapidly as everyone moves around me but all I can focus on is Elijah’s dead body. Dead. Elijah’s dead. Oh god. 

I feel someone grab my upper arm and drag me out of my seat, “What’s wrong with you?”

My breathing halts. My vision goes black and, my body hits the floor. 

[moonbeamsandmayhem]

a/n: Eddie x fem!Reader. It’s been a while. Thank you all so much for bearing with me. This is a purely self-indulgent blurb/fic. Not beta read. Inspired after author watched Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire.

warnings: oral, penetration, dom/sub undertones if you squint, edging, reader with a vagina, Eddie being a little shit. I think that’s it! As always, please DM me if I missed anything.

October 31st, 1996 - 10:25pm

The candy had been eaten, scares given, and costumes put away for another year. You had gladly been on candy duty for a majority of the evening at the community centre, giving out treats, facilitating games for the little ones, and telling ghost stories to enraptured ten year olds who hung off your every word.

As for Eddie, he was running a DnD one-shot for the teens down the hallway. Occasionally you could hear raucous laughter and some profanities spew from the din. It brought a smile to your face knowing that he could still command a room like he had not-so-many years ago at Hawkins High.

But now, you’re home. In your shared apartment. Your legs are on his lap, while you balance a bowl of popcorn on yours. Your eyes are glued to the screen, watching as Dana Barrett and Louis Tully embrace, kissing passionately, the Keymaster and the Gatekeeper reunited at long last.

Your periphery catches movement as Eddie’s hand reaches for the popcorn before landing squarely (purposefully) on your thigh. You rip your attention from the TV to lift a curious brow at him, only to be met with a smirk. “Something on your mind, handsome?”

He croons, smirk growing to a full blown smile. “A few things, yeah,” Eddie admits, hand inching a little higher, “just thinkin’ about how killer you’d look in that dress.” He nods back to the screen, referring to the gown Dana’s wearing.

“You think I can pull that off?” You scoff.

“Sweetheart, you can pull off a god damn trash bag.”

“I’m not Sigourney Weaver, Eddie.”

“She’s got nothing on you.” He tugs the bowl from out of your grasp, placing it on the coffee table before giving you his full attention. Leaning over, he cages you in, forcing you full on your back against the couch. Eddie’s lips brush against yours, silently asking for permission, with a small peck against his, he surges against you like a man trying to quench his thirst. His hands are everywhere, as are yours, a whirlwind of disregarded clothes find themselves unceremoniously on the floor, but you’re both too distracted to care.

“You looked so hot in that witch’s outfit, babe. Was hard to keep it together tonight.” He latches on to the space where shoulder meets neck, sucking in a bruise.

“Y-you looked pretty hand - fuck - handsome yourself. The eyeliner, the fake-fangs, like something out of The Lost Boys, Christ, Ed’s.”

“Mhm. You like a bad boy, don’t ya, sweets?” Lathing the spot with the flat of his tongue. You shudder, eyes rolling back a little, losing yourself - did he say something? He nips at your skin and you gasp. “I asked you a question.”

“Could - could you repeat the - ah - shit - you’re distracting me, Munson.” You pout.

“Am I?” He looks at you with those big brown eyes, all faux-innocence and one-hundred percent mischief. “My bad.”

“Asshole.”

Eddie chuckles softly, “Guilty as charged. Now, are you gonna let me continue being a distraction or…?”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Yes.”

You cum three times. First, on his tongue. And he makes you work for it, pay back for calling him an asshole. He lifts you higher and higher then pulls his affections away, leaving fluttery kisses around your clit before he starts again. He does this four times until you’re nearly sobbing. It’s a rather messy affair when he finally lets you cum, snapping like a taut wire, and gushing all over him.

Still dazed and trembling from the power of your orgasm, he pulls a second with practiced fingers. Playing you like he plays his guitar, making you sing into the howling night. You’re begging for his cock now, begging to cream all over it, but he shushes you as he works in a fourth digit. You arch your back clear off the couch like a woman possessed, you cum harder than you have in your life.

Or so you thought.

When Eddie eases into you, it’s the closest thing to heaven you can imagine. He stretches you and fills you just right, the piercing on the tip of his cock finding that spot only he knows how to he reach. He presses his forehead to yours, muttering to keep your eyes on him. And you do, because how could you possibly look away? Not only does he fuck you like tonight is the last night on Earth, he makes love to you as if you’re the only two people left on the planet. Slow, self-assured, comforting, everything else dissolves around you. You cum so hard you see stars. Your lungs burn, robbed of air, as you clench and cream and gush. He empties into you with such a guttural groan of relief at the exact same moment, sweat beading his beautiful brow. He pumps, once, twice, a third time, then lays on top of you, satiated, dipping his head a little to nuzzle his nose against yours.

“You absolute menace.” You tease, with an exhausted smile, leaning forward to capture his lips.

“What can I say? Bustin’ makes me feel good, baby.”

[opinions-about-tiaras]

So apparently the princess is some sort of time witch now, haunting the country from the past and terrifying the SHIT out of everyone. The loli mad scientist is no longer loli but has a barely legal assistant. Their new advancement in surveying technology involves hurling men a kilometer into the sky, tethered to a magical cable, to take pictures.

The ninja mayor (old woman flavor) is now a hot-air balloonist and amateur archaeologist, the OTHER ninja mayor (cult leader flavor) who I thought I murdered by throwing him in a bottomless pit is building an empire down there in the dark. The hottest fashion trend is dressing like mushrooms.

I’ve had my arm replaced by a magical mummy arm with ghost rings that let me summon dead-eyed duplicates of my friends to fight and kill in my name. This is after I once again woke up naked with no memories of how I got there (second time in just a few years) and a dead king started bossing me around. My side hustle is working for the newspaper founded by the lady I met in the desert who once called me an idiot for not exploiting my heroism to get girls.

All of this is played one hundred percent, absolutely, unblinkingly straight without even a hint of irony.

I’m not sure what I expected from The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom. It wasn’t quite this, I’ll say that.

[dinogoofymutated]

Morph/GN!Reader It's a little late, and super short and not that in-depth, but I'll be honest, I've been on the struggle bus lol. I feel that Practical magic might have to hold on until after october, as I really want to post the secret surprise guest fic on halloween day and I'm worried I wont have enough time if not. Don't worry though! It should still be posted eventually.

You’ve always considered the rumors about your family’s witchy and magical past to be fictional, absolute nonsense. Well, you did, until you found yourself accidentally bound to someone who’s more or less your familiar. Neither of you particularly wants this, so you focus on whatever magical skills you managed to inherit on breaking the bond- but is that really what you want?

TWs: Incredibly inaccurate witchcraft and magic, misunderstandings, I'll add more if I think of any.

    “And you’re sure this will work?” You sigh at the sound of the voice, Morph sitting on your counter and kicking their feet back and forth as they watch you draw a chalk symbol on the floor. The lines are crooked and the symbol a little wonky, but it looks close enough to the one you saw on Google- you think.

    “Nope.”

    It’s been almost a week since the universe decided that you needed a new problem on your hands. One day you’re joking about the supposed magical past of your family line, then the next day you’re waking up at midnight to heavy vertigo, bright lights, and something- someone in your house. Not only had you jinxed yourself, you had put yourself through some kind of horror movie by walking through the dark house and faceplanting directly into a pale, lanky creature that you were sure you'd seen on some horror forum in the 2010s. Only, they weren’t just some creature. They were your creature. Your familiar, apparently. Like, witchy familiar- like black cats or owls or other creatures of the night- only you got stuck with a Changling, one who wasn't exactly thrilled about the situation, having enjoyed hundreds of years of freedom since being bound to another magic-user.

    “Really starting to doubt that you're an actual witch, you know.” They hum, hopping down from the counter and stretching their arms. You let out a long groan, running your hands through your hair before you plop down on one side of the circle.

    “That’s because I’m not!” You say, exasperated. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing- and if anything I would expect the Fae-born changling to know more about this!” Morph only shrugs, which only aggravates you further.

    “Don’t hate the player, rookie, hate the game.”

    “Would you please sit down already?” 

    The instructions you follow make you feel stupid. You had everything that the “spell” or whatever it was required, but it was just so… cheesy. Every step you follow feels stereotypical and fake. You’re a hundred percent sure that it probably wasn't exactly common for witches and whatnot to sever the magical bond between themselves and their familiars,  but this wasn't really an average situation. You don’t want to use magic, or be a witch! And Morph doesn’t want to be stuck to you either! You can already see the hopeful glimmer in their eyes as the chalk circle begins to glow,  the writing on the sheet of paper you were using to guide you quickly following suit. The air begins to feel staticky, charged with magical energy. There’s a buzzy feeling underneath your skin, and the tension in the air begins to grow as the tea candles on the counter go out suddenly. There’s a moment of anticipation, and then a flash of blinding light. You close your eyes at the bright shine, feeling the buzzy feeling die down. There’s a silence in the air, and when you finally open your eyes… Morph is still there, tapping their fingers against the wood floor. They look a little disappointed, before giving you a smile that doesn't reach their eyes. 

    “Soooo, should we order takeout tonight?”

    “God damnit.”

    You go grocery shopping instead. While you're in the store, Morph is really helpful. You’ve only known them a day or two, but they are certainly living up to their title. You don’t really have to ask for help very much, sometimes they just do things you need, and other times you do ask them to do something (stupid tall shelves) and it’s almost like compassion for them to fulfill your requests. You don’t like that. Morph is still smiling, but you don’t think they like it either.

    Morph is… strange. Not in a regular way- and the constant changing and taking on new forms isn't exactly news to you, besides the fact you had been so sure changelings usually take on a single shape, but then again you didn’t exactly do a ton of research on that kind of mythology. You’re starting to think you should have, but that's aside from the point. Morph is actually really nice, and funny, and always manages to find a way to make you laugh. There are moments when it just feels so authentic and others that feel… hollow, almost. 

    As nice as it was to have company, the quest for a spell to sever the bond between you continued. Morph helps you find spellbooks at the library you had never known existed, stayed up late with you to find herbs and fungus that only grew at night, helped you make breakfast and drank wine with you on the weekends before laughing with you until morning. Months go by of this, and despite every failed spell or ritual, the air between you only settles, both of you relaxing into a new comfortable energy. They’re less stiff than they used to be, you noticed. they’re less afraid to make mistakes, and more likely to join you for company. 

    Eventually, Morph tells you about their sinister first master- if you can call the bastard that. It’s a serious moment, one you’re not likely to forget, but afterward, you find a new kind of appreciation for how comfortable they were in your home, and with you.

    From then on, things between you… change a bit. Something shifts. Morph is a lot more touchy with you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, draping themselves across you on the couch. Their jokes come off more genuine and less stiff- less of a defense than they were before. There’s newfound mutual trust, one that you start to enjoy.

    …But they still had to go home, right?

    You feel like every step closer you get to having the perfect spell mastered, something goes wrong. All these little nitpicky things that you had overlooked time and time again begin to wear on you, and with your growing fondness for Morph, it wears you down a little. You want them to say, but you don’t want to keep them here. Not against their wishes. Additionally, your new spellbooks and supplies-  hell, even the crystals you owned before any of this magic stuff surfaced had gone missing. You go to try another attempt, and time and time again, after not being able to find the key components you knew you had, you gave up and waited for another day. And then when you would find what you needed, something else would be missing instead. You have never felt so forgetful then you did while searching the house and having to get Morph to help you- because it really had to be you misplacing things, right?

    What was stranger was that Morph didn’t really care. They would laugh about it and shrug their arms and lightly make fun of you, but never made you feel too bad about it. You had felt so guilty every single time, knowing that you were keeping them here due to your own thoughtlessness- and the fact that you enjoyed them being here only made the guilt worsen. 

    Eventually, the time finally came when this foolproof spell you had been working on for so long was ready. 

    The room is lit by candles, the chalk on the floor almost glowing against the dark wood. There’s a small fire in the center of the circle, various crystals and things placed around in strategic patterns, and the air is buzzing with magic. You’ve recited these words so many times at this point you had it memorized, so focused on wrapping the twine rope to bind yourself and Morph’s wrists together you hardly see the way their face shifts, looking paler than ever. 

    “Are you sure this is going to work this time?” Morph asks, an unsteady tone to their voice. 

    “Well, we’ll know if the fire-” You don’t even have to finish your reply, as soon as the twine has been fully wound, only a string hanging down in the middle, the fire shifts in color, a wave of magic sweeping the room and every other candle and flame following suit. You look around in surprise, with this being the first time you’ve ever had that kind of reaction. It feels… good. The magic beneath your skin, the power and control you have over the elusive spell at your fingertips. And yet, you still can’t bring yourself to smile. 

    The fire beneath your wrists stretches, the flame flickering up to lick at the twine that hangs between you. This kind of flame won't burn the skin, only the rope, you remind yourself as you anxiously watch the fire grow. You can’t hear anything over your heart pounding in your ears, the twine burning slowly before it begins to pick up in speed. A wind begins to pick up in the room, candles flickering as the magic seems to become sucked into the binding as it burns. You’re too focused to really pay attention to Morph’s growing discomfort, but time is ticking, and you look up at them expectantly when they must speak their half of the spell, taking their power back for themself and rescinding your use of it.

    “Morph?” They don’t respond to their name, eyebrows furrowed as the flame burns more and more of the rope. You finally notice how nervous they look, heaving breaths and shaking shoulders. It’s all moving so fast, and they’re running out of time. The flame completely overtakes the twine when Morph suddenly shifts the size of their wrist, yanking it out of the binding. All of the air is sucked out of the room, the magic following suit as every flame returns to its normal color, and you can’t help but let out a screech as your wrist begins to burn. 

    “Shit! Sorry! Sorry! I’m so sorry.” Morph is rambling.  You’re desperately trying to get the rope off as they race off to the side, grabbing the bucket of emergency water you kept just in case something went wrong. You call their name in frustration, tears dotting your eyes as they grab your hands and plunge it into the water, quenching the fire.

    “Please, just don’t be mad!” They beg, but it’s a little late for that. Your growing anger is only amplified by the unbearable pain from the burn on your wrist.

    “Of course I’m mad!” You shout. “How can I not be?!” Tears are finally beginning to roll down your cheek, from the pain or the anger, you didn’t know. Morph is becoming frantic, running back over to the side to grab the first-aid kit before sitting down with it. You can’t bring yourself to take your wrist out of the cool water. They can’t seem to decide the best way to help you, either, hands reaching out to wipe your tears but retracting before they can touch your face.

    “I can’t- I’m sorry, I couldn’t-”

    “Why didn’t you just tell me?!” The words come out like a shout, and Morph flinches, looking ashamed. 

    “Do you have any Idea how hard this was for me?” You sob. “-To tap into whatever magic bullshit this all is, do all of these rituals and spells and have each one of them fail? Having to prepare myself for you to leave me over and over again?!” There’s a second of silence, Morph looking at you wide-eyed.

    “What?” Morph breathes, in absolute shock, still hovering by your side. You scoff at the question, taking your wrist out of the water to weakly punch at their chest.

    “You’re such an oblivious asshole!” Your arms are around them before they have a second to react, burning your face into their shoulder. Morph is frozen, stiff under you like they still haven't fully processed what was happening. You continue to cry into them, sobs and hiccups slowing while they begin to relax, wrapping their arms around you and burying their face into your hair.

    “Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to stay?” The words are whispered and broken, but Morph only holds you tighter.

    “I… I thought you wanted me to go.” Morph mumbles. You shake your head, only curling into them further. They hold you back just as tight, and you know that the relief you’re feeling is mutual. 

    You sit together for a long, teary-eyed moment, breathing each other in.

    “So…” Morph breaks the silence. “Takeout?” You laugh, and it’s possibly the greatest sound they've ever heard.

    “Hell yeah.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Maybe brennan x witch reader that help eachother all the time but at some point she gets really hurt and brennan just goes ballistic trying to get to her on time and the fluff afterwards of him being a mother hen

Don’t die

When Brennan had first come to the Riorson house he never imagined that the first thing he would be greeted by would be a hurdle of females. All visibly drained. All way paler. The silver lining their eyes. That was the first of many times you had hissed at him. Back then he had misjudged the situation. His understanding of what was going on was murky. Brennan had little to no knowledge of what else was used to power the wards. Too many scrolls were in languages he couldn’t read.

That day he had simply attempted to pick up a little girl that had been crawling across the floor. Brennan had barely bent over when a sharp knife dug against his neck. “Move and I will cut you open”, that was when he first laid eyes on you. You were younger than him. At least that’s how it looked. But even if your hand wasn’t shaky Brennon saw the fear in your eyes. If not that then the scars all across your body did.

That was also the day when a new side of anger was born. They were using witches as power outlets. Dragging innocent children to the borders. But Brennan was going to change that.

“So what does this say?”, Brennan leaned over your shoulder, pointing at the paragraph he had been struggling to translate. You were in his room. The hour was edging towards the early morning but you both couldn’t seem to put the work aside. “I’m not one hundred percent sure”, you admitted, frowning softly. As yet another yawn threatened to slip past your lips. “But it looks like a sacrifice ritual”, you tapped your finger against the illustration above, “Basically the best way to use us as outlets”. Brennon shook his head, “Then we do everything against that and make sure that everyone is prepared to see signs of someone who might try to…”, “We could help”, you cut him off. For some months now that the revolution had kicked off in full swing the question of witchcraft had been raised in almost all meetings. For the most part, witches could uphold simple powers. But where they could shine if they gave away their powers to others.

“No, not like that”, Brennan protested as he stepped away from you. “This would give us the upper hand”, you pushed on further. He had never asked anything of your kind. But his protectiveness had harmed the progress of the revolution. “I will not allow that”, his sharp features deepened even more. The dimples on his cheeks wiped off with no trace. “But I am offering. A lot of us are”, you stated, turning to face him now. “Most riders don’t know how to safely use your power”, he pointed out in a huff. You knew that he understood what the offer implied. You knew the outcomes too. You crooked your head to the side watching the male in front of you.

“Don’t”, Brennan pleaded softly, his tired eyes meeting yours. “We will be fine”, you stepped closer to him, “I will be fine”. Your fingers softly brushed across his jaw. One that he flexed out of reflex before his lips softly touched your neck. You two hadn’t given time to discuss the situation brewing between you two. At first, it was a mutually needed distance. But now with you spending almost all nights in his bed and all the little touches. It had to be more. It felt like more. “I can’t…”, Brennon breathed out, his fingers digging into your hips just a thing stronger. “We already lost so much”, his desperate eyes met yours. But you didn’t let his fears reflect in your eyes, “You won’t lose me”, even if promises like that were so wrong to make in battles like that.

Brennon had triple-checked your daggers, flying leathers. Even the pins in your hair had been fidgeted with. You had caught his hand when he moved to recheck the straps of your other weapons, “I got it, Lieutenant Colonel”, you nudged his shoulder, hoping to suffocate his nerves for him. But he only frowned, “You never call me that, don’t call me that”, he grumbled, leaning his forehead against yours. “You are sleeping in my bed tonight”, he muttered after a couple of minutes of silence. “Is that a suggestion?”, you chuckled, letting your arms sneak across his waist. “No, an order and you know how much I love when you follow my orders”, he muttered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Kinky”, you muttered as you two watched the horizon, waiting for the signal you all dreaded most.

Through it all. All you could think of was Brennan. And rule number one was to not get distracted but you worried. Worried for all of them. The cadets that for the most part were stepping into their doom. You had just helped to carry the injured flyer to the healers when your eyes landed on Violet and the venin that now surrounded her. It took you a second to make up your mind as you darted through the field. Summoning illusions as you ran in hopes of winning more time for her.

“Use me and get to Tairn”, you ordered her, as you threw one of the daggers, her confused eyes watching you. “You shouldn’t be here”, she stared but you quickly cut her off, “You’ll be able to aim right”, you growled out as you watched another cloud of wyvern approaching. “Now, Violet”, you hissed out, right as her hand reached for you and you fully lowered your shields, allowing her to dip her mental shields into yours.

It all was going right as you hoped it was until you eyes caught a glimpse of venin. “Traitor”, it hissed, “trading our secrets and for what?”. You turned, throwing another dagger before launching yourself off the closet building as you ran in hopes of reaching a dragon that you could use as leverage. You needed to get off the ground. See it all from the air. But your jumps had gotten sloppier, and with your powers running through Violet too, you knew your time was running out quickly.

You leaped off yet another rooftop. Eyes falling on orange scales. Marbh. It had to be him. Meaning that Brennan was here you only needed to get his attention but you needed to get rid of the venin that was chasing you first. “Pathetic little witch”, the venin snickered as you dodged another blow. You only had one dagger left. If you threw it you would be left defenseless. You looked back up, whistling in the tune you and Brennan used to identify each other with while raiding. But it was Marbh’s eyes you met first. And his claw was close enough so if you just jumped now. You leaped. A pained roar sliced the chaos as Marbh quickly changed his position but you saw something in the dragon’s eyes. Something that meant…

And then you felt it, a sharp claw digging into your flesh. Wyvern. Sadistic laugh. And the claw that was meters away from crushing your body. You managed to twist yourself, plunging the last dagger that you had right at the center of the claw welcoming the felling off free fall. Until your eyes caught Brennon’s mortified ones. His lips were moving but you no longer could make out what he was saying.

It felt as if someone had ripped Brennon’s heart out of his chest as he watched your body fall. It’s like every part of him froze for a moment. And it’s Marbh who’s working on his own accord as he plunges reaching out his claw to catch your limp body. Everything else feels equally as if it’s not him. Not him getting off his dragon. Not him watching Marbh slowly letting your blood-covered body hit the grass.

“No”, and it’s share panic. Blinding panic. Not real. Brennan kept telling himself. If he blinked. If he could only make himself blink it would all go away. You would be here. His knees hit the ground as he reached for you. Pulling your body to the side so he could examine the cut. “Yn”, he calls out, eyes scanning your face. “Come on, love, open your eyes for me”, slowly he mends the fresh cut, watching the flesh come together but your limp form remained.

“Come on”, he pulled you closer to him. Not safe, Marbh growled assessing the surroundings, flashing his teeth at anyone who got too close. “Please”, Brennan brushed some of the hair away from your forehead, “You can’t die. Don’t die”. His eyes were burning with tears he refused to weep just yet. He couldn’t. Never in his life had he had anyone he loved so much. You had become part of him. Letting go wasn’t an option. Marbh let out a pained roar too no doubt feeling the same emotion his ridder was feeling. Brennan felt his mending powers flailing. He was exhausted himself and with him not knowing what exactly he was healing and what other damage had been done most of it was wasted.

He didn’t care that he was covered in blood and grime as he pressed you closer to his chest. Swaying from side to side. Trying to suppress his sobs. And then he felt a light twitch. The feeling of fingers brushing against his side. Brennan pulled back, wide eyes looking down at you. Your own eyes were barely open but he could see the slight rise and fall of your chest. “Oh, thank you, thank you”, his eyes darted up to the sky before his attention was fully back on you. “Brenn…”, you muttered, bloody lips cracking as you spoke. “I’ve got you, you will be okay”, he reassured you, “I will never let anything happen to you, darling”.

[klausysworld]

Hi, this is more of an ask than a request. Imagine in an AU where Klaus Mikaelsons falls in love with the reader, but she is actually a Petrova doppelgänger that can ends his wolf curse. Then what would he do in this situation? Does it makes a difference if he is yandere instead of just being a normal romantic? Thanks a lot.

This is a really good question!

It’s sort of difficult to think about because wouldn’t he have killed her before he could have fallen for her?

However I guess if he had to spend time with her waiting for the full moon to come around, find her birth place, have the moonstone vampire werewolf and witch then I can see how time builds up.

I think there would one hundred percent be a possessive element from Klaus almost immediately. In his head he owns the doppelgänger. Shes only there for him to break his curse.

So it would be easy for any romantic feelings towards her to make his Yandere tendencies to grow.

Once he realises that he had fallen for her he would be at an internal battle. Could he kill her?

In some way I think it would be easier to kill her if he was Yandere over her because he’d try and use the logic that if he took her life then that would somehow make her his? Because he literally held her lift in his hands and he would be overcome with his lust for power which he gained from their relationship anyway but then she could offer more by breaking the curse??

However I think if he had normal romantic/love feelings for her then it would be difficult to just kill her and be done with it.

Because Klaus is so mentally twisted anyway, I think him being completely obsessed with her almost makes it more likely for him to kill her anyway where as if he genuinely has an innocent sort of love for her then he wouldn’t want to hurt her.

Yandere Klaus will hurt her if he has to, so that she is solely his.

Normal in love Klaus wants her to feel safe in his arms. I think he would use the elixir from Elijah or find a spell to bring her back which would ultimately work in his favour anyway because the doppelgänger needs to be alive for him to create hybrids.

His hybrids would never be allowed to drink directly from her however he would take her blood in small samples.

Perhaps if he killed her in his Yandere state then he might resurrect her due to the fact that he needs her. Again I think she is viewed as more of a possession that he loves because he gains something rather than loving her just for her?

I’m not sure? I can try answer this again if this doesn’t help

[marirah]

WIP Wednesday!

tagged by my darling @safelycapricious 🥰

this is from a wip I started posting this month, working chapter title is "there's a what in there"

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?” Slade asks. He’s doing his best to keep his voice level, but he’s not sure it’s working. He takes Jason’s hand without thinking, twisting their fingers together and only just remembering that he can’t squeeze too hard - he doesn’t know if he’s imagining the doctor’s disapproving look, but he doesn’t want to break Jason’s hand in front of her either way.

“We’ll have to wait until your full blood panel comes back to be one hundred percent certain, but I’m familiar with pregnant omegas.” Leslie adds to the nurse. “Thank you, Lisa.”

The woman nods, then leaves the room.

“You have options, of course, but I would recommend speaking with a specialist about it, rather than continuing care here.”

low pressure tagging @vellaphoria @gerryrigged @the-alice-of-hearts @klarion-the-witch-boy

[youronlybean]

Do you have any one-line ideas of any crossovers/AUs/heavenly, like fleeting thoughts that crossed your mind once, like @ someslothcheese's ao3 prompts? Basically something you felt was not enough to even share.

I have a list of these in my notes :0 (mostly zeroyalchaos, shockingly. Also a genuinely surprising amount of Kara and Chilled?)

- Kara as the Goddess of Death, Chilled as a new god (like Hermes - travellers, thieves, etc.) and they bond over people asking for safe passage to the afterlife

- Slack crushing on Skadj cuz he’s an arsonist

- PR1 detective AU, Ze is asked to step in on a fraud case even tho he only works murders but Chilled gives him puppy dog eyes, Kara as a forensic scientist, the case turns out to be mafia related

- mcyt/PR1 crossover, a café run by the Evo crew that has a pride party night every month that Shubble brings her PR1 friends to. They vibe and have a good time

- Lethal Company angst. Possibly SkadjATK. Possibly ZRC

- “You said ‘Kill him or I’m gonna kill us both’, what kind of terrorist shit is that?!” - chilledchaos quote (I don’t remember what I was gonna write with this but Chilled did actually say this once)

- Tay and Jeremy bond over rage and murder :)

- “I know,” Ze whispers, tightening his hold on his husband. “But I want you to know that I a hundred percent believe everything I said about you.”

Chilled squints at him. “Twelve years ago you called me a piece of shit garbage who kills for money.”

“I’m almost certain I didn’t,” Ze deadpans.

- But it’s one of those rare moments where Chilled is quiet. It’s not like he doesn’t have anything to say - Chilled ALWAYS has something to say - rather he doesn’t feel like speaking right now, which is uncommon and at times, unsettling.

- Knight AU with Em and Pasta, Em is Pasta’s knight and they also make out :)))

- Kid Cheesy AU where Kara, Ze and Chilled share custody of him but Ze and Cheesy have the same laugh and Chilled ends up falling in love with him whoops. Also they’re all best friends because I said so

- The Redrum Circus AU

- Courtilly group mom fic

- AxialFawkes cyberpunk speedracer fic. Jeremy gets injured and can’t race, Tom’s mechanic bails on him so Matt fills in

- Spooky PR1 - Kara as a witch, Larry as a werewolf

- Dread Hunger but it’s that one stream where Chilled and Kara went out to get resources and Chilled sacrificed himself for her

[aromanticautiesworld]

If you write poly, can you do poly finntress? Also I'm curious will moth experience bi panic via finntress?

oh yes absolutely i write poly please send me poly requests! not 2 ramble about mushrooms but this first part (there will be multiple parts) kinda takes place middle of season 5-ish (sorry flame princess was with finn earlier in the timeline so mushrooms isn’t right after their breakup) there wont be any bi panic from moth abt fintress BUT! definitely in later parts (i love huntress wizard so much). ANYWAYS request time !

////

poly fintress with a gender neutral reader

word count: 1098

You squirm your way through the underbrush of the forest, following the path of the boy with the bear hat.

You were more introverted and withdrawn around other people than Finn, so he would sometimes take you with him (often very much like this) to meet new cool people he knew. Not that you object to any of this, most of the people Finn knows are cool with you too—as long as they’re not some sort of shapeshifting monster or illusion trick. That’s also happened before, unfortunately. While terrifying in the moment, you two look back and laugh about it. But still, never again.

So here you are now, legs halfway dipped into a creek, its weak current tugging at your clothes (which you regret wearing. Why couldn’t you have worn your waterproof pants today. Or at LEAST shorts).

“This is the spot where we usually meets. Me and yous just gotta wait,”

“And you’re a hundred percent sure she’s not a demon? Or a cursed witch?”

“Yeah I am dude. Hero’s honor,”

You consider. “Arrite,” You punch him in the shoulder, “I’m trusting you on this one,”

You both hear a rustle of branches and leaves coming from the opposite side of the river, and who you think is some sort of cat-person at first, based on the eyes that appear out of the darkness, effortlessly pushes her way out of the woods.

“What’s up, dudes,” She puts her bow back in its sheath, a bow that seems to have been drawn ready to fire a few seconds ago. You’re a little concerned about that, but if anything it makes you want to get to know this stranger more (also the name ‘Huntress Wizard’ could’ve spelled it out for you, but you didn’t think she’d be hunting right then).

“Meh, nuthin’ much. You said you wanted someone who can sing for this spell, right?” He gestures over to you, “They can sing,”

“Hey,” You pipe up awkwardly from where you stand, both still sort-of behind Finn and halfway in the water. Small fish swim past your legs.

“Hey,” She makes her way over to you, now also halfway in the river and half soaked, seemingly inspecting you, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re what we’ve been looking for,”

Ah. Pretty. Girl. Close to you. You are, at this moment, very normal and very functional. Both of those things.

“Thanks? Um. I mean I’m..I’m down to help with anything you guys need,” Glob, you feel like a student trying to talk to the ‘cool kids’ in one of those old teen movies right now. What is happening…

“Thanks dude! Love it when my friends are friends,” Finn grins, missing teeth only adding to his charm.

You now found yourself singing for a spell to bring forth some ancient magical plant. You wouldn’t say you didn’t care about that, it was a very cool thing, but your mind was occupied by…other topics.

The two taller people in front of you play their flutes, somehow in tune with your voice. Magic spreads in the air, emanating from both their playing and you, along with a feeling similar to when the air pressure drops before a storm begins (but with a more comforting feeling than that of impending doom).

…

Wait, no. That was actually the air pressure dropping.

The sky flashes with lightning, breaking open and letting loose a torrent of rain.

“Shelter! Quick!” Huntress yells out.

You start to follow her, when you’re quickly brought off of your feet and out of the now-muddy ground, scooped up by Finn. The water that’s suddenly pouring down on the three of you in the clearing and the flashes accompanied by thunderclaps do nothing to snap you out of your shocked and flustered state, and your face burns.

You’re eventually put down, now in the safety of a nearby cave, and are still recovering.

“Sorry about that, haha…” Finn chuckles nervously, “I might have panicked a little,”

You say nothing for a second, still stunned, before zoning back in.

“No, I would’ve done the same thing…at least, I would if I was as strong as you are,”

Finn ruffles through his backpack, while Huntress casts a spell under her breath to light a pile of twigs you guys’d found ablaze.

Finn then dumps out the contents of his backpack (a copy of Ble, an old sandwich, an uncursed dagger, the head of a mini cyclops, an energy bar, miscellaneous pens, and many other items now strewn across the floor.

“Guys. I don’t have my emergency sleeping bags,”

You both look up, Huntress now finished starting the fire.

“Looks like we have to huddle. We can use my cape as a sleeping bag for now,”

“Well…wait. Who’s gonna be where?”

“What’chya mean?” Finn asks from where he gathers the contents of his bag back to where they came from.

“I mean who’s gonna be on the edge, who’s being in the middle…”

“Hmmm…It’s just for one night, so…What do you think, Huntress?”

“I think you should be in the middle,” She turns towards you as she talks.

Your brain is flooded with both giddy excitement, and slight embarrassment.

“Yeah, I’m good with that. What do you think?”

“Yes. Yes. Good. Cool. Very good,” You nod quickly, shooting them a thumbs up. Words aren’t working too great for you right now, it seems.

Huntress takes off her cape, her hair (leaves?) are very pretty, spreads it out—this thing is big—onto the floor of the cave, and rolls herself up into one side of it. Finn then drops down his bag (he’s managed to put everything back) And rolls into the cape on the other side. Your turn.

You snuggle in between the two, heart practically beating out of your chest, and unbeknownst to the two surrounding you, a large grin on your face.

You were the first to fall asleep, of course, and both Finn and Huntress reflected on today.

You’re cool. A cool person to add to their weird little relationship-hangout thing they have going on. Based on what Huntress has seen today (that you’d tried to hide, to no avail. You were way more obvious about your crush on her than Finn was), and on what Finn knows about you, you wouldn’t object if they asked. If you did they would back off of course, but he knows that’s not the case.

Drip, Drip, Drip…

Honestly, it was very peaceful in this cave. The sound of rain outside, your steady breathing, the warmth you all shared.

You guys should do this every night.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

hii! I saw your post about your husband forging a nail and making it into an iron ring for you and i wondered if there's lore behind it? I know terry pratchett references something similar in one of his Tiffany Aching books and i was kinda obsessed with it, but I didn't know if it was a reference to some folkloric tale.

(also, if you want to share, I'd love to see a photo of it!)

Of course! There is not one particular tale, but it has very firm roots in folklore.

(Cold) iron shows up in various European folklore as a protection against fae, spirits and malevolent forces of all sorts. Unless it’s used to protect a home, it often needs to be carried with you to lend its protection, naturally making simple, common iron objects the most popular amulets. For instance horseshoes, knives, keys, coins, and also nails! Particularly horseshoe nails, for obvious reasons, or coffin nails. These iron nails also show up in magic rituals quite a bit (for instance in witch bottles, or in binding rituals that involve hammering the nail into a footprint).

The tradition of making rings out of these nails as a good luck or protection charm is also very old. I’m no historian, but I’ve seen mentions of it referring to late Medieval England and France. It seems like in some cases the nails were just (occasionally) the most convenient thing to hand (like for the ‘cramp rings’ to ward off illness), and when the actual protection of iron was desired, it was a relatively easy way to make a charm. Horseshoe nails were typically forged by a blacksmith, who could just as easily make them into a ring. They were not always worn around the finger, but also as an amulet on a cord round the neck. (I’ve seen a few mentions online of iron nail rings being traditional love tokens, but I haven’t been able to find anything more about that.)

But my ring was one hundred percent inspired by Tiffany Aching’s “iron enough to make a nail” ring in Wintersmith. My partner forged it for me as a replacement for the silver engagement ring I tragically broke. This one has proven more dependable <3

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Sounds of Justice (3)

Warnings: canon typical violence, cursing, non-consensual drugging, descriptions of character death, car crashes, lying, manipulation, mentions and descriptions of jail, guns, yandere themes, mafia AU, mafia Rafael Barba (trust me, he needs the warning), mentions of rape (not to the reader), and unwanted advances (nothing happens to the reader).

Chapter 3

“Is Abby usually that…” Sonny struggled to find the right word.  “Excitable?”

“How do you mean?”  Bishop asked with protectiveness barely concealed in her voice.

“When I showed her the analysis machines that we use, she linked her fingers, stretched out her arms, stared at the machines, and then said, “You are my babies and I am your benevolent ruler!”

Tony chuckled, “That’s our Abby.”

“Speaking of tours, we give you the tour.  We’ll break into groups or pairs.”

You ended up paired with Fin and he escorted you around the precinct, pointing out the important places and most notably, the break room.

“What did you do before you worked here?”  He asked.

“I worked for the Behavioural Analysis Unit as a profiler.  You?”

“Narcotics.  Worked there for over ten years.”

You let out a low whistle, “That would’ve been rough.”

“No rougher than working sex crimes.”

You leaned against the island in the break room, “Have you ever had a case where you realise that your case is actually part of a bigger one?”

“I hate those.  It means more people have suffered.  Usually there’s politics at play as well which makes it more complicated than it needs to be.”

The two of you lapsed into silence.

“What do you think about this one?” Fin asked.

You rubbed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose with your fingers, “I can already tell that it’s a bad one.  Not only has your guy become our guy but Abby has located three other cases with a few similarities in the tri-state area.”

“She works fast.”  Fin remarked approvingly.  “We only recorded the third case a couple of days ago.  Seeing as you guys are the feds, I’m guessing you have access to that data base.”

“She does.”  You agreed “She’s a sleuth in the truest sense of the word.  And yes, we do.  If it helps, we don’t spend our time trawling through your data bases just because we can.”

“I’m not sure whether to be relieved or insulted by that.  Do you think this case is part of something bigger?”

“The murders appear random.  So far there’s nothing that connects them which means there’s nothing to tie them to our unsub.”

“Unsub?”

“Old habit.  It means ‘unknown subject.’ Since there’s no connection yet, I only have a vague idea of a profile.”

“How does that work?  The profiling?”

“Basically I gather all the information in my head, piece together bits of information that seem like they belong to the same group and create a portrait based on that.  With the right amount of information, I can determine ethnicity, age, height and build and behavioural patterns.  But I’ll only do it once I’m one hundred percent sure and I’ve collaborated with my team.  Otherwise I risk getting it wrong and starting a witch hunt.”

“In all my years in narcotics, I’ve never seen anything like this.”  Fin revealed, “The amount of sophistication that an operation like this would take speaks to me of a professional touch.”

“Do you think a gang could be behind this?”

Fin shook his head as he leaned against the cupboards and rested his hands on the bench behind him, “While I’ve seen some sophisticated gangs with the technology to pull something like this off and the ability to stay one step ahead of law enforcement, I feel like we’re missing something crucial.”

“What if it’s more than one gang?  United under a particular person?”

Fin nodded slowly as he thought it over, “Smaller gangs can slip under the radar and they’d be more inclined to work for someone bigger in exchange for protection.  Especially if they’re working with rival gangs under the leadership of our mystery guy.  Question is: who?  Who would have that kind of power to unite them?”

You let out a moan, “Which brings us back to our original problem?”

“Not only that.  We’re no closer to figuring out why and how your boy was involved.”

“Well, how did you find out about your guy?”

“Witness called in a failed rape.  Said that the intruder burst into his home and shot straight towards him.  Grabbed his clothes and tore them.  Just before things could get worse, the intruder keels over and dies.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Fin confirmed.  “Victim was pretty shaken.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Footsteps reached yours and Fin’s ears at the same time and Tony appeared in the doorway to the break room.  You knew it was serious when he didn’t make a quip about you finding the break room first like he normally would have.

“Anonymous caller just phoned in that there is another victim.”

“Same MO?” Fin questioned.

“Looks like it,”  Tony replied heavily.

[bilightningwhumper]

Mangst 2024- Day 3

<<Previous . Masterlist . Next>>

Picture Perfect (Rapunzel + Hansel and Gretel) Masterlist

“You don’t remember, do you?”

Summary:

Leslie learns more about her family Potential spoiler excerpt from "Picture Perfect"

Notes:

Colds are terrible and I've already got enough brain fog without them. Next chapters are going to be slow going while I get over it. I've managed to make notes for them, but making a narrative is a lot of effort at the moment Warnings for this one: panic attack, semi-mental breakdown, mentions of brainwashing by and trauma bonding for abuser Characters: Leslie- Rapunzel "Mama" (mentioned)- Mother Gothel/Sorceress/Witch

Leslie's POV

At least outside wasn’t as stuffy as her room. Leslie didn’t understand why she couldn’t leave like the others could. Well, Isaac had made good points, like the Institution taking her back. But Mama wouldn’t make her go back if she just knew. If Leslie could just make a call and explain, Mama would take her home. Then everything could go back to normal.

“Leslie?” The nice nurse, Crystal, was behind her with a strange woman. “There’s someone who’d like to talk to you.”

The woman approached as Crystal stepped aside. She gave Leslie a strange sort of smile as she put a hand on the chair opposite her.

“May I sit with you?” she asked.

Leslie tilted her head. The people here were odd, always asking for her permission to do things. But it could be a trick, so she nodded.

Pulling out the chair, the woman sat down, putting a thick file on the table between them. “My name is Rosemary Carroll. I’m an agent of the Felony Tracking Agency, ‘FTA’ for short. Do you know what that is?”

Leslie shook her head.

“We’re partnered with the Huntsman Legal group to find out more about you. Well, people like you. Trying to reconnect you with your family or soulmates. Other people who won’t take you back to the Institution.”

She perked up. “Did you call Mama? Is she here for me?”

Ms Carroll got a funny look on her face. “We didn’t find her, no. We found out something else, though.” Opening the folder, she took out a set of pictures and placed them in front of Leslie. “Can you look at these for me?”

She took the pictures, spreading them out and ordering them neatly in front of her. They all looked like pictures of the same family. A mother, a father, and a little girl. The little girl was blonde, different ages in the pictures. Ms Carroll didn’t tell her what to do with them really other than look, so she arranged them in how order of how old she thought the little girl was. Leslie could feel Ms Carroll watching her and her hands started shaking. Was she doing something wrong?

“You don’t remember, do you?”

Leslie looked up, confused. “Remember what?”

“This,” Ms Carroll held up a picture of the little girl on a bike, her father behind her, and her mother cheering behind them. “This is your family.”

That didn’t make any sense. “But that’s not Mama.” She pointed at the woman in the pictures. “Mama has black hair and she’s tall and skinny. This lady is blonde and short and pudgy.”

Ms Carroll sighed softly, pulling out more papers. “Do you remember how when you first arrived, they ran tests on you? One of them being a DNA test?”

She nodded. “They said it was to find Mama. Or my daddy. But Mama said he was a bad man who didn’t want me.”

“Well, we found this couple. These were the results of both your test and theirs, along with their missing daughter’s.” Ms Carroll passed her more papers that had charts and names on them.

She recognized her name and could read three others, all with the same last name: Anita, Colin, and Riley Shepard. The charts and numbers she didn’t understand. Leslie looked up at Ms Carroll.

“What is this?” she asked, laying down the papers on top of the pictures.

“Well, their parental matches are fifty percent matches to you.” Ms Carroll pointed at Anita and Colin’s results, both with a 50% next to them. “Typically, a one-hundred percent match for children to each other would be in the case of identical twins. But the Shepards only had one child, their daughter, who went missing when she was seven.” She pointed at Riley’s results, that had a 100% next to it.

Leslie stood up, ringing her hands. “Why does it say this? It’s wrong. Mama’s my family. She took me from the hospital herself. She always told that.”

“She wasn’t lying to you, Leslie.” Ms Carroll pulled out some more papers. “The case files from Riley’s disappearance talk about how she was sick, always in and out of the hospital. I talked with the Shepards and they confirmed this. Riley presented very early at age five. So her heats were very intense for her and hospital intervention was the only way to help. Right as the doctors found the right medication to balance her heats for her age, Riley disappeared.”

Foggy memories pulled at Leslie. Waking up in cold sweats. A cool hand on her forehead. Someone singing something to her. Mama never sang to her.

‘I’m your only family, baby bird. The only one who wanted you. Never forget that.’

“No.” Leslie shook her head., pacing back and forth “That’s not me. I’m sorry for that family, but it’s not me. Mama loves me. She’d never do something like that.”

“Do you remember any baby pictures? Any evidence she’d had you when you were a young child?”

“Mama didn’t keep any. Babies aren’t pretty. She only kept pictures that were pretty.” Leslie couldn’t breathe. Maybe she’d made her corset too tight. “Mama doesn’t like it when I’m not pretty.”

Ms Carroll pulled out something else from her pocket. A bulky looking thing that had a camera lens on it. She flipped out something on the side. “Listen to this for me?” Then she pushed a button.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly…”

Leslie froze. She knew that. She knew…

‘I’m your only family, baby bird.’

“Lavender’s green. When I am king, dilly, dilly…”

“Stop it.”

‘The only one who wanted you.’

“You shall be queen. Who told you so, dilly, dilly…”

‘Never forget that.’

“I said stop it!”

Leslie knocked the thing out of Ms Carroll’s hands, shattering it on the ground. The music stopped and someone was crying. No, she was crying.

“Leslie…”

She ran. Away from the woman. Away from the pictures. She ignored anyone calling after her. Dodged any attempts to stop her.

Once she got back to her room, she locked the door, breathing hard. That stupid singing was still in her head. Why wouldn’t it go away?

Mama was her family. Mama loved her.

Mama…

Mama lied.

Breathing hard, she backed away from the door.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Makeup streaming down her face. Hair a mess. Dress rumpled and wrinkled.

‘Oh, baby bird, you look terrible. Let’s fix you up and make you pretty again.’

She sat in front of the vanity, picked up her make-up brushes, looked back up at the mirror.

‘You look beautiful like this. You don’t need any of it to be pretty.’

No, that was wrong. Mama made her pretty. Mama knew what made her look best. Mama made her the best.

‘You’re beautiful, Leslie. And funny. Smart. Don’t let her keep telling you otherwise.’

She shook her head, dropping the brushes, tugging at her hair. No, not that again. She’d been doing so well. Mama sent her to the Institution to forget about that. Mama loved her. The only one who truly did.

‘You’re mine, not his. Maybe I should help you remember that.’

There were scissors to the side of her. She remembered asking for some so she could make art again. Picking them up, she looked at herself in the mirror again.

‘You don’t need any of it to be pretty.’

It felt like someone else was controlling her hands. Like she was a puppet on strings. She watched as she pulled out hairpins, took up a chunk of hair, then-

Snip

Hair fell to the floor, some of it on her shoulder.

Snip

More hair gone. Her chest felt lighter, even as tears clouded her vision and her breath shuttered.

She kept cutting until her hair was just above her shoulders, varying lengths in most places. It looked awful, choppy, messy. Not at all what Mama would like.

Laughing to herself through tears, she got her make-up wipes and scrubbed her face. She probably used too many, being wasteful with what Crystal had given her. A glance in the mirror told her she was successful, though, getting all of the make-up off, face red and raw from crying.

Next was the clothing. Ripping, tearing, destroying the things Mama wanted her to wear. No more dresses. No more corsets. No more Mama’s pretty bird.

She was no one.

Nothing.

No one’s.

She pulled out some of the clothing from her nest. A shirt from Isaac. Pants she got from the clothing the center had supplied.

Burrowing into her nest, she pulled a blanket over her head. She didn’t know who she was anymore. But she had a pack. She belonged with them.

That much she knew.

That’s all she needed.

[thatndginger]

Well... it's done! I've finished polishing this little project up, and the last step is to print it off at work after I enjoy my first two-day weekend off in over a month ^.^

The Idiot's Guide to Moressau

In an attempt to stem the flood of idiotic tourists who inevitably get themselves killed, injured, or swindled every year, Portia Beckham has written a short primer for all thinking of visiting Moressau. Her goal is to lay out the most dangerous aspects of the city and what you can do to avoid them. This is not an in-depth guide to the city or any supernaturals by any means.

full transcript under the cut:

CONTENTS

PAGE ONE Sightseeing The truth behind the tourist kitsch - places to avoid at all costs, hidden gems to explore

PAGE FOUR Shapeshifters Debunking stupid werewolf myths, how to pick a shifter from a crowd, how to avoid getting your face ripped off by an angry one

PAGE SIX Vampires How to spot a mosquito, ways to keep your neck safe, popular vampire hunting grounds PAGE EIGHT Witches Best practices for dealing with magic users, apothecaries to stay away from

PAGE NINE Magic and More Magic, and what you should know about it before you visit

SIGHTSEEING IN THE SMUGGLER CITY

The Golden Rule: Use Your Brain It’s hard to resist the allure of magic, I know. But Moressau isn’t the kind of place you want to walk into unprepared. There’s a lot of rot beneath the thin veneer of civility the city’s been splashing around lately. This isn’t meant to be a tourist guide. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that your visit is going to be all sunshine and roses. The sun rarely shines in Moressau, and don’t you know roses have thorns? No. This is a survival guide to help you avoid becoming a statistic.

Avoiding the Tourist Traps I’m going to be honest: ninety percent of the stores in Old Downtown are overpriced and full of cheaply-made tourist trash. ‘But what about Heron’s Compass or The Crooked Spine?’ you may ask. Overpriced. Tourist. Traps. The Crooked Spine touts itself as the oldest bookstore in Moressau, but most of its shelves are filled with the kind of crap tourists spend hundreds of dollars on just to say they bought a piece of Moressau. Most of that crap is made overseas. If you want to hear a sanitized, all-ages-friendly account of witches in Moressau and buy ridiculously named potions that do jack-all, then by all means go to Heron’s Compass. The Maer-Rigan Coven will charge you out the nose, and probably gloat about overcharging you to your face. If that’s the kind of vibe you want, then please stay in Old Downtown and never bother the rest of us.

Shopping That Won’t Bankrupt You If you want to find some shopping that’s reasonably priced and not forced to keep up a bright and happy facade for the city’s ‘image’, then you’re going to want to check out the street markets. All local, usually handmade, and what they lack in visual appeal they more than make up for in atmosphere. The really good ones don’t advertise their existence, you just have to know. Best practice: check the Arts or Lonewood districts on a weekend evening. You’ll find something that makes the entire trip worth it. Guaranteed.

Not in the mood for a stall crawl? There are a ton of unique stores around Moressau worth your time. But like most things, you’ll have to put in a little footwork for them. My personal suggestions are The Salt Well - a secondhand store covering three stories in the Arts - and Thistle & Rue - a local artist co-op that has everything you little heart could desire.

Local Food Worth Your Time Moressau is far from a haute cuisine destination, but since you’re here you’re better off sniffing out some of the local offerings than settling for fast food. Trust me. Check out Jax’s Diner down in the industrial side of town. Open twenty-four-seven and home of the best breakfast plate you’ll ever eat in your life. Or if you want something fishy The Queen’s Catch in the Boardwalk is by far the best place to sample some of the sea’s bounty. Finally, if you’re looking for somewhere with both good booze and good food, you can’t go wrong with Island Goat or the Salt Beard Tavern. Just don’t ask to try the chef’s special at the tavern.

The Historical and Creepy Look. All of Moressau is creepy. At least that’s what I’ve been told. It’s dark and gloomy and you’re just as likely to get mauled by a creep as you are to get scared by a dumpster rat. If you don’t know what you’re doing, stick to the shit all the brochures tout. You’re less likely to die that way. There’s museums and tour guides for all of you nerds, too. That tour of Augustus Laroche’s mansion is actually pretty fun. They have paid actors and everything, but frown on self-guided tours outside of the usual routes. Just FYI.

I’ve heard of some walking tours that have popped up recently that seem safe, if you’re into that kind of thing. Word to the wise, though: avoid anything that mentions the Montrose Syndicate. They aren’t dead, and they don’t like being talked about. Whoever started that tour is going to end up at the bottom of the bay sooner or later.

Seaside Attractions (And Then Some) This is another one the brochures can handle for you. The Boardwalk and lighthouse are safe enough, and there are parts of the preserved old wharf that aren’t too bad either. And yes, they were made with old shipwreck lumber. The founders were thrifty and morbid like that. Stick to the North Docks and Downtown if you want to explore Moressau’s seaside attractions. The Old Docks aren’t the safest place anymore, day or night. If you’re up for a bit of a hike, check out the original lighthouse just north of the city. It was abandoned in favor of the new lighthouse in the early 1900's, but whatever they made it with keeps it standing, even if the rocks around it have eroded away. It’s not as fun since the city took out the bridge connecting the lighthouse to land, but you’re brave (and stupid) you can still make it across the gap. Ask me how I know.

For some modern entertainment - or modern-ish - it’s worth it to check out Saltshock, the amusement park right off the Boardwalk. It’s got some of those old wooden rollercoasters that are actually terrifying. The modern steel coasters have nothing on those rickety old things. The prices aren’t too bad, but definitely don’t bother buying any souvenirs or food there. That’s where they get you.

And since you’ll be in the area, keep an eye on the street art. I know a guy who paints some really cool murals around the Docks and Southside neighborhoods. Some of them disappear pretty quickly, since he never asks permission to decorate someone’s wall. So keep an eye out for anything signed “W S”. And keep an eye out for the rest of our local renegade artists too. You could spend hours searching out all the hidden masterpieces in this city and still miss half of them.

SHAPESHIFTERS

There’s one thing you can count on in the world, and it’s that no one will ever agree on what’s the ‘right’ thing to call a shapeshifter. But to save you some trouble, I’ll tell you the best ones. Only scientists and academics use that stupid ‘metamorph’. Most people settle for ‘were’ or ‘shifter’. If you know what kind of shifter you’re dealing with, calling them a werelion or whatever regional term you know is probably fine. Just don’t call them a beast unless you want them to act like one.

Debunking the ‘Werewolf Myth’ Because ‘shapeshifter’ is such a broad category of supernatural, there are a lot of rumors and hearsay floating around out there. Hollywood certainly doesn’t help. So let’s get some of the worst rumors put to bed once and for all.

First and foremost, weres aren’t controlled by the moon. They won’t uncontrollably transform under a full moon, or grow stronger in moonlight, or whatever else Hollywood has fed you. A transformed shifter isn’t a mindless animal or killing machine. There are some shifters who have trouble controlling their animal sides, but in those cases they’ll act like any other animal. Lassie doesn’t attack everyone in sight, does she? Most shifters are fully in control of their animal sides, and you’ll only have to worry about one attacking you if you’ve pissed them off.

Second, not every bite from a were will kill or turn you. Which is hardly comforting, since you won’t know that until after they’ve bitten you and you’ve spent about half an hour shitting yourself with panic. No one knows how it works, but a were has to want to turn you for the magic to take hold. That said, a big enough shifter doesn’t need to Bite you to kill you. So I’ll tell you again: don’t piss off a shifter.

Spotting a Shifter There’s no one-size-fits-all way to pick out a shifter in a crowd. They look like any other human. Act like any other human. Until you get close enough to notice that they have a cat’s eyes, or pointier-than-normal ears, or freckles that look more like spots. Every shifter has a ‘quirk’ courtesy of their animal form, though it’s not always immediately obvious. I know a werewolf who has fangs in human form, and another who acquired a ‘birthmark’ in the shape of their wolf side’s markings. Each quirk is unique to the shifter in possession of it.

Behavior is another one of those things that’s unique to each were. Some will take on certain behaviors of their animal form while human, while others will only act like an animal when they are an animal. They’re like humans that way. You can’t just shove them all into one box and expect them to act the same.

Finding a Shifter Shapeshifters don’t have a lot of restrictions the way some other supernaturals do. They can go where they please when they please. Except for the fact that most mundanes are still scared of them and prefer shifts stay in specific neighborhoods like Amber Wood and The Point on the north edge of the city. So if you’re trying to find some entertainment on the wilder side, start there.

The hangouts in Amber Wood tend to be the friendliest to non-shifters. Belmont’s Basement is a historic dive that’ll let anyone through the doors as long as they don’t start trouble. Then there’s Ovidia. Be warned, the music and atmosphere are quieter than a usual human club, since Ovidia caters to the sensitive senses of shifters first and foremost.

The Point has been undergoing a bit of a gentrification spell of late. The Montrose Syndicate has been expanding their turf, and with the wolves come the wealthy. Above all, steer clear of Arnaud’s Run. That’s where the top Montrose brass live, and they do not like outsiders. You’re more likely to get your throat torn out than to get a lukewarm welcome in the Run.

But if you want to try your luck, The Hunt on Starfall, or the Silver Bullet lounge are your best bets. Better be on your best behavior, though. Insulting a Montrose soldier is the last thing you’ll ever do.

Were Deterrent? There Deterrent! Silver will mildly irritate a shifter, but it won’t kill them. That whole silver bullet thing works because, it turns out, guns kill things. It doesn’t really matter what the bullet is made out of. Wolfsbane will do the exact same thing to a shifter as it does a human. Don’t you know wolfsbane is incredibly poisonous? Just touching the stuff can kill a mundane, let alone a werewolf. Don’t be the idiot who goes touching deadly flowers because of a myth.

If you want to keep a were from transforming, slapping a collar made of copper and rowan branches will do the trick. It’s how cops ‘subdue’ shifters in Moressau. Why rowan? Who knows. Same reason vampires hate it, probably. It’ll irritate the crap out of a were, like itching powder, but it doesn’t really hurt. Copper disrupts transformation magic, but only when combined with rowan, and only when directly touching a shifter’s skin. That one’s easier to explain. Magic and copper don’t mesh well. Rowan amplifies it against shifters.

VAMPIRES

If your entire reason for coming to Moressau is to meet a vampire then I have two questions for you: What the hell is wrong with you, and why bother coming here at all? Statistically, there is at least one vampire in or near where you live now. Go find them. They’ll probably jump at the chance to drink your blood, if that’s your thing. You don’t need to travel for it. The only reason you should be visiting Moressau when it comes to vampires is their nightlife.

How to Spot a Vampire Let’s get something straight right now. Vampires don’t sparkle. They aren’t incredibly pale. They aren’t indestructible. A freshly-fed vampire isn’t much different from a human, actually. They’re warm to the touch - never hot - and no paler than the average person. The only thing they’re missing is a heartbeat.

That said, there are some tell-tale signs that you’re talking to a vampire. Their fangs don’t do that stupid retraction thing like some movies claim. You’ll see them as soon as a vamp opens their mouth. A vampire’s eyes don’t glow, they aren’t blood red, they’re just eyes. But they’ll shine in the passing light of a car or a camera flash, that’s for sure. Most supernaturals have that little quirk. Lastly, vampires lack both a shadow and a reflection.

A vampire who hasn’t fed in a few days will have a chill to them like any other dead body. But a hungry vampire is faster, stronger, and much easier to piss off. And a really hungry vampire might just turn feral on you. Trust me when I say you never want to meet a feral vampire. They don’t have enough reason left to leave you alive when they’re done.

Where to Find a Vampire Typically, vampires can only come out at night. They tend to burn to a crisp in half an hour if they’re exposed to full sunlight. It’s not a pretty sight. Luckily for the vampires of Moressau, the sun only comes out about 30 days of the year, so they can be out at nearly any time of day.. Most of them keep to the night hours out of habit, being nocturnal creatures. They also tend to hang out in the Midnight Quarter. There are some vampires who’ve lived there since the city was founded, and if you’re looking for night life then the Midnight Quarter is exactly where you want to be. Don’t be surprised by what you might see in a back alley there. The city’s feeding regulations are only really enforced when the police department feels that vampires are getting a little too comfortable. There are ‘authorized’ parlors for safe feeding in multiple parts of the city, but it’s only in the Midnight Quarter that vampires feel safe enough to feed out in the open.

Not all vampire parlors and clubs are dangerous. Just some of them. Club Nomad caters primarily to vampires, but they’ll welcome anyone looking for a night out. The bouncers there are better than most about keeping an eye out for trouble. If you want exclusivity, then L’Sourire en Sang run by the Société de Keres is as old and exclusive as you can get. They’re pretty strict about who they let in - mundane and vampire both - but I’ve heard that almost every human visitor leaves alive. Or occasionally undead.

Last but not least, there’s Cameo. It hasn’t been around very long, but it’s already pissed off all the old and moldy vampires in the city so it has my vote of confidence. I heard it’s run by a new coalition in town called the Strix Assembly, and they’re very concerned about keeping their bloodbags alive and well. Pampered, even. They don’t mind the occasional shifter drifting through, either.

Finding Good Mosquito Repellent Vampires might be some of the deadliest supernaturals out there, but there are some tried and true ways to keep them off your neck.

First, sunlight. We’ve covered this. Keep up.

Second, rowan wood. I don’t know what it is about rowan specifically, but it’ll burn any vampire who touches it. They hate the smell of it too, if you’re in the market for new cologne.

Vampires have an aversion to garlic, but it’s not going to stop a determined one. Pepper spray is useful if you can make a quick getaway. Don’t bother with religious iconography or silver unless you want to be laughed at before you die.

And finally... most vampires are just like everyone else. Common sense and a nice attitude will go a long way. If you wouldn’t go around insulting Joe Schmoe, don’t go around insulting a vampire just because you can, either.

WITCHES

Before you go getting all sad because I’m telling you just how dangerous all the ‘fun‘ parts of Moressau are, just let me finish. Because as scary as shapeshifters and vampires can be, witches are so much worse. You’ll never a know a witch is standing in front of you. Not until you piss them off and they curse you for it. At least a vampire has the courtesy to show their fangs before they fuck you up.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let me debunk some more stereotypes about witches. Some of them wear pointy hats, but so do a lot of mundanes. You can’t judge someone by their aesthetic. Even if it’s a stupid one. If they are actively channeling magic, a witch’s eyes will glow. It’s a soft light, like a glowstick. There’s no specific glow color for ‘evil’ witches, but the color is unique to each individual. A witch also tends to smell like the air before a storm when casting. Petrichor, some call it. That’s the smell of magic in general. Depending on how much magic is used, the smell can linger for a while too. But it’s really weird to go around sniffing people, FYI.

Finding a Good Witch Shop Most witch-run businesses in Moressau prefer to call themselves apothecaries or mysticaries. ‘Magic Shop’ sounds like a place full of gag gifts and card tricks. The good apothecaries are usually run by a single person or small coven. Anything with multiple locations or run by the Maer-Rigan Coven is going to charge you out the nose for something even an infanct could mix up. Maer-Rigan runs Heron’s Compass and Satyr’s Step in the Old Downtown, so steer clear of those. It’s better to avoid Hag’s Eye Apothecary and Honey & Sage while you’re at it, too. They aren’t Maer-Rigan run, but they’re way too pricey and their products are weak.

If you want a really good mysticary shop, check out Whitehart Apothecary near the Old Docks. Their prices are fair, and the witches who run it are a riot. They’ll even check you for errant curses, if you ask nicely. Breaking curses will cost you, though. Some other options are Lazy Gull and Black Fin & Feather, both found near the Boardwalk. Black Fin & Feather is perfect for all you goth-y, creepy folk. And Lazy Gull recently opened a coffee bar, so you can get your enchanted drinks on-the-go. Just make sure to tip well, or they might add something unpleasant in there too.

MAGIC AND MORE

There’s one thing I can say about Moressau that is unequivocally positive: it really is the most magical place in America. And I mean that literally. There may be other places with a longer history of magic use, but Moressau was built and rebuilt with the help of magic, and you can feel it. The city is alive with it. Be good to the city, and the city will be good to you. That’s our motto. That’s why most of us still stick around, even with the constant rain and cold. And the danger. We love this city. And it loves us back.

Now that I‘ve gotten a little sappy, let’s get back to business. Most of the newer parts of the city - really anything less than 50 years old - haven’t had time for the city’s magic to sink in. So if you’re scared of the idea that a city is alive, stick to them. They aren’t really alive yet. The oldest parts like the Boardwalk and Old Downtown are where you can feel the magic heartbeat of Moressau. You’ve got to stand still, and tune out the city noise, and then you can feel it. But since this is Moressau, standing in the middle of a busy public area and spacing out is dangerous, so bring a buddy if you want to try this.

Never, ever go below the city streets. It might sound cool to check out the ‘Buried City’, but the magic down there is different. Older. Woven into the ground by smugglers and people who didn’t want to be found. It doesn’t matter how well you’ve prepared, or how good your sense of direction is. Ten minutes down there and you won’t know up from down. There are people who manage to live down there, but don’t ask me how they do it. You probably don’t want to meet them, either.

If you’re a magic user, make sure you’re prepared for the side effects magic tends to experience here. I’ve been told magic has a stronger will in Moressau and takes more effort to channel. It also tends to take on a mind of its own and react in ways you wouldn’t expect. It’s nothing off-the-walls crazy, but it’s definitely something to keep in mind. Or else your protection spell might become a ‘knock everyone three feet back if they dare touch you’ spell. It’s only funny for the first twenty minutes.

Shapeshifter taglist: @sunset-a-story @touloserlautrec

[daydreaming-jessi]

I have returned for but a moment. Now back to the mist I go.

“Be-ej!”

Beetlejuice felt over a hundred pounds hop onto his back, causing his spine to make a disgusting pop, fully disrupting his pretend nap (Though it was really just an excuse to be splayed fully out in the hallway and be in the way of any attempted passerby.) He balefully cracked his eyes open and rolled them through his eye sockets until they peeked out through the back of his head to glare at Lydia, who was currently standing on him. For some reason she was holding a broomstick in hand.

“Whaddya want, pipsqueak?” He asked, blinking away the hair jabbing at his unprotected eyeballs.

“It’s Halloween.” Lydia looked down at him with her typical cat-that-got-the-canary look she got whenever she came up with a particularly devious scheme.

“Yes? I am aware of the passage of time thanks to you breathers’ weird attachment to clocks.” He gestured to the tacky Art Deco clock hung up on the wall ticking away endlessly next to them. Delia had bought it, thanks to his goading, at an art expos she dragged him to as some sort of bonding experience. To his delight, the Maitlands did their damndest to politely pretend they didn’t detest it every time they walked by it.

Lydia continued on pointedly, regaining his attention. “Since it’s Halloween, that means it’s time to put on our costumes. That includes you!”

Beetlejuice sat up, finally making her hop off. He raised an eyebrow at her general vicinity while his eyes popped back into place, his vision taking a moment to reorient itself. “I thought all holidays were overblown scams by puritan capitalist overlords that only you ennui maddened teenagers saw through, and thus refused to participate in on principle.”

“Well yeah, most of them, and Halloween doesn’t exactly escape the exploits of the vultures that make up the one percent, but how often do we get to appreciate Halloween on the hunter’s moon? Capitalistic doctrine can rip this day from my cold, dead, heretic hands, I’m allowed to have fun for one night.” This seemed to be one of those sticking points Lydia would follow through on, so Beetlejuice let it go.

“Fair enough, but I gotta point out that you’re not exactly gonna stand out at any college witch coven party.” He flicked one of her sleeves pointedly. She wore a simple, dark navy dress, nothing special about it. Truly the only new addition was the red bow tying back her raven black hair from her face and the simple, dull pink flats instead of her heavy, buckle laden, face stomping boots.

Lydia pulled the skirt of her dress up and shook it emphatically, scowling. “Come on, Beej, I’m Kiki! From that movie I showed you yesterday, genius.”

“Looks the same as every other outfit you wear.” He yawned. His glee continued to grow as Lydia’s glare deepened. It was always fun when he managed to rile her up a bit for once.

“Since when do I wear giant red bows in my hair and carry around pink bags?” She tugged on said bow while holding out the strap of said bag. Before he could come up with some elaborate lie, she shook her head with an annoyed click of her tongue. “Never mind, that’s not the point. What this whole thing was leading up to was that I wanna know if you wanna help me complete my costume, making your own in the process.”

“Your vagueness is starting to make me suspicious. What are you suggesting, Scarecrow?” Beetlejuice asked, his eyes narrowing warily.

She gestured sweetly with her broom. “I’m suggesting you play the part of my faithful witch companion, Jiji.”

Beetlejuice’s eyes widened, and he grinned. “Aw hell yeah! I’ll finally get to be what I eat!”

“If you keep talking, I will stab you again.”

“Pus-“

“Don’t.”

Beetlejuice‘s grin turned serious as he pointed at Lydia emphatically. “What’s in it for me though? This seems to be unfairly in your favor.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Seriously? Is the idea of hanging out all night in graveyards, scaring the shit out of drunk party goers and trick-or-treaters, being ‘bfffffffs’ really not good enough for you?” She put on a weak grin that pretty quickly dropped at Beetlejuice’s unimpressed stare.

But then he clapped his hands and did a fist pump. “Aw yeah!! The bio exorcist besties are gonna paint the town red tonight!”

Huh, guess she wouldn’t have to dip into her stash of embarrassing bribery photos tonight.

He snapped up to his feet, twisting his spine into shape with another loud crunch. At this rate, one would expect to see his head start glowing. “Alright, so I’ll do it, ‘cause it does sound like an interesting way to fuck around with people, but I’m gonna put my own spin on this. No whining about screen inaccuracies.”

She rolled her eyes, hiding a smile. “I’ll have an actual talking cat, I think I’ll have most people beat on accuracy.”

He grinned before poofing into a cloud of glittery stage smoke, leaving a healthy helping behind in the carpet. When the cloud dissipated, it revealed a black and white striped cat with a messy, barely groomed tail.

Lydia could hardly believe her eyes. “Oh my god, you're actually a cat!”

Beetlejuice inspected his form, making sure there weren’t any stray eyeballs or extra organs lurking in his fur coat. It’d been a while since he’d gone for something this mundane.

“Huh, not bad! Even I impress myself sometimes. Now then, I think it’s time we enjoy this Hallow’s Eve to the fullest. How ‘bout you, Scarecrow?” He asked, hopping onto Lydia’s shoulders. She tried not to cringe at the acrid stench of smoke that still clung to his fur.

“Oh yeah, definitely wanna get out of here before Dad tries to take a billion pictures,” she agreed before starting for the staircase.

However, Beetlejuice hopped onto the banister to stop her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you think you’re doing walking on your feet?”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Do I actually have to answer that?”

“You’ve got a broom, girl! Use it!” He jabbed a paw in its direction.

“...Beej do I need to remind you how brooms work in the real world?”

“I’m aware of gravity. But I’m also aware that gravity for the paranormal is more… optional than it is for breathers.”

Despite herself, Lydia was curious of what he could be suggesting. “If this is some kind of prank, I will endlessly torment you anytime you try and nap again,” she said warningly.

“Yeah, yeah, get on the broom now!”

Lydia eyed him, before turning and wisely opening the window next to them, and safely popping the screen out and setting it to the side.

“You break one window one time, and suddenly no one trusts you ever,” Beetlejuice muttered as he hopped onto the broom with Lydia.

It jolted under her hands, sending a strange tingle up her fingers, and suddenly Lydia felt a strange sensation, and realized it was the feeling of her feet, her entire body in fact, leaving the ground. “Oh my god?”

Beetlejuice shot her a wide grin the Cheshire Cat would be proud of. “Alright, kid, enough gawking. Take it away!”

Lydia grinned as she tightened her grip on the broomstick, and urged it forward.

In a flash, they zipped out the window unscathed into the night sky. The cold air whistled around them, whipping Lydia’s hair around in a frenzy and numbing her fingers and nose. But none of that could wipe away her beaming grin, nothing could dampen the exhilarating sense of giddy bubbling up through her chest.

She whooped as they zipped through the air, Beetlejuice joining in with his own yeehaw as he dug his claws into her bag. Man, that Jiji guy made it seem a lot easier in the movie…