#and lizzie and her tendency to cut the head off of everything she sees

[cometblaster2070]

I’m not going to lie, but like, Cupid and Kitty have untapped potential to be one of the most chaotic duos Ever After High has ever seen.

I don’t quite remember if they ever interact in canon, or what their relationship is like if they interacted, but like, just think for a second.

Cupid is clearly against Headmaster Grimm and his whole agenda right, like, we all got that from True Hearts Day. Cupid believes that everyone should follow their heart regardless of destiny, while Headmaster Grimm is firmly against such ‘nonsense’ and believes that everyone should just shut up and follow whatever their destinies entail.

Then there’s Kitty, and her whole deal is causing chaos. She loves pranks and mischief, and generally just being a nuisance all over. Headmaster Grimm is someone who’s a stickler for the rules; of following things by the book (literally). I would like to wager that this both amuses and displeases Kitty, and she finds whatever way she can to make his life absolute hell while cultivating pure enjoyment for herself.

And that’s where they both come together. Because, bear in mind, Cupid’s destiny (if you could call it that I guess?) is to bring people together and help them fall in love. Kitty’s destiny as the Chesire Cat is to simply be as much of a hindrance to everyone that she can while partaking in several shenanigans.

Do you see where I’m going with this? 

Cupid and Kitty can cause so many problems together and when confronted, they can use the very viable excuse that they’re really just practicing for their destinies.

I would enjoy this friendship very much as it would lead to many moments of Headmaster Grimm almost having a stroke <3

We love Milton Grimm slander in this house.

[thecardsimagine]

The Sun’s Happiness

Surprise! I was able to pinch hit for @fieldsofvesuvia and was allowed to write for @thermophilic-lizzy adorable MC Kachiri! I hope you enjoy this one-shot ♥

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Characters: Nadia Satrinava X Kachiri, Portia Genre: Fluff, Comfort

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“Look at you,” Nadia hummed, a smile playing over her lips. With her finger’s soft touch, she brushed through Kachiri’s hair, still damp from the bath the two had just taken. Kachi couldn’t deny that it felt heavenly to have Nadia tend to her. The occasional spoiling she’d allow the Countess was nothing less than exquisite every time it happened.

With a sideglance to the mattress around her, Kachi noticed the tiny lilac flowers falling down onto the sheets from above. They were dancing through the air and along the silky bathrobe she was wearing, some of them settling on her shoulders, while others fell all the way to her legs and hands, resting on top of Nadia’s enormous bed.

 “My little flower catcher,” Nadia chuckled, bringing her hand - filled with more flowers -  forward for Kachiri to see, making her smile too, as she heard the sweet nickname Nadia had given her.

“Do you believe me now that even for a bath as big as yours, that were just too many flowers?” Kachi teased, having noted this fact before when they were in the bath still. It had been quite a surprise when the servants brought in three big baskets full of flowers on Nadia’s order. Back then, Kachiri had already uttered some concerns about the amount, while also wondering just where in the world those flowers had come from. After all, Kachiri had to be pleaded with, since she wouldn’t usually let Nadia spoil her like this regularly, so there wasn’t much time to prepare that amount in advance. However, that Kachi’s hair had - unwillingly - become the net catching those delicate flowers, still amused her too.

“Never, Darling. Besides, only the best for you! And I believe you are quite fond of lilacs, considering you usually halt and admire them when we encounter their bushes on our walks.”

Responding with a confirming hum, Kachi couldn’t deny Nadia’s perceptiveness of her. With a blissful sigh, Kachiri let herself be tenderly persuaded, with a tug on her hair, into laying her head back, giving Nadia more playground and allowing her to inspect the top of her beloved’s head for more flowers. “They did smell amazing, Nadia,” she admitted, her nose still faintly making out the sweet scent of this particular flower. It really was no secret that a lilac bush could always invite Kachi for a minute of staying and wondering just how it could smell this good. Then again, this had been the first time she ever bathed in it, only knowing it as a remedy against fever and digestive problems until now.

However, the smell was barely able to take hold anywhere anymore, as Kachiri was more or less engulfed in Nadia’s very own lavender scent, coating the room into the calming smell. And that was much appreciated by Kachi, who - when she wasn’t talking with Nadia - was fighting the anxious bubbles in her stomach. It didn’t go unnoticed by the former princess sitting behind her, as always, Nadia being extremely perceptive of the people around her - especially someone so dear as Kachiri was to her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Kachi hesitated for a moment before telling her, unsure if she should even bring up the topic again. It was nothing new that the talks around the palace were something Kachi had gotten better with, yet, dreaded still as she simply couldn’t keep up with nobles. Nadia was a natural talent, paired with years of experience how to handle these people, but Kachi was only now learning, and that day again, had left her exhausted.

“I was just wondering if I might have angered the Duke who you introduced me to today? He didn’t seem too happy as he left for his afternoon rest.”

Nadia’s touches never ceased or changed as Kachiri opened up about her worries. In her heart, she knew, Nadia wouldn’t judge her for something like this, but still, it was hard to open up about her weaknesses to someone as great as the Countess. “You mean because of the fig-trees? When you said you’d prefer a field of sunflowers over a garden full of figs anytime?”

Nadia’s words were followed by a rare snort as she remembered Kachi’s words from that afternoon, soft laughs falling off her lips. “D-Don’t laugh!” Kachiri stuttered lightly, a bashful blush falling onto her cheeks. “What if that changes anything with the connections of his lands with Vesuvia?”

“Oh, Darling,” Nadia chuckled. She reached past Kachiri towards the brush she had taken with her into the bed, finding Kachi’s hair to finally be free of flowers and ready to get brushed by a tool instead of her fingers. “First of all, it’s my duty and responsibility to be liked by them, not yours. I have to represent Vesuvia, but you are free to speak as you want and see fit.”

“Secondly-” Carefully, Nadia began to brush through Kachi’s sensible hair, knowing it had the tendency to be quite hard to shape and get through despite the conditioner they had used on it beforehand. “Ah, there’s a knot,” Nadia warned, interrupting her own speech and using her fingers once more to untangle the strands of hair tied together. Kachiri had to wait for another breath or two before Nadia went back to her words, after she freed the hair, readying it to be brushed through now.

“Secondly, I like it much better when at least one person in court speaks her mind, instead of fifty others only nodding and bowing.”

Kachi knew it was a compliment, her lips curling briefly into a smile before reality pulled her back. Despite Nadia’s encouragement, Kachi still felt the responsibility on her shoulders to be liked, too, especially now that she and Nadia had grown closer more than ever. It meant she was going to stand by her side more, and as such, she wanted to support her partner as best as she could too.

“It’s just…” Kachiri let out a long sigh, shrugging lightly in frustration as she found it hard to put her thoughts into words. “I am not someone exceptional, or extraordinarily smart or pretty, and I feel like I need to do more to earn--”

Cutting herself right off before she could say anything more, Kachi bit her lip, trying to brush off the topic with a quick, yet awkward, laugh. “‘Your place’? Is that what you wanted to say?” Nadia caught her red-handed, even though she had yet to stop her brushing, remaining as calm as ever. Kachi sighed deeply as she felt busted by Nadia’s sharp wit. If anything, Nadia wasn’t a woman you could keep something hidden from easily, which was a pain whenever her birthday came around, and there were presents to hide.

Finally, the brush was set aside, as Kachi felt two hands on her shoulders, squeezing them lightly. “Kachi? Look at me, please.”

There was no reason for Kachiri not to follow Nadia’s request, despite finding herself unable to maintain eye contact with Nadia’s eyes, which were as purple as the lilac flowers. But before she could duck into herself like a child about to receive a scolding, Nadia pulled her into a sudden hug, giving her a tight squeeze, unlike the usual tender embraces Kachiri was used to from her.

“As long as you want, your place will always be here.” Raising some butterflies in Kachiri’s stomach, Nadia slowly let her go, but not without lifting her face by her chin so the two of them could face each other properly. “No matter what you do, things are not eaten as hot as they are cooked here, even if they seem to have a serious impact. And while I say it’s my responsibility to take care of anything that might occur, it helps me a lot to know I have you by my side to mend all the things that could come my way.”

She smiled as Kachi blushed over her words. Letting go of her chin, Nadia leaned forward to kiss her forehead, bringing her hands to Kachiri’s cheeks to tenderly caress them. “You’re perfect just as you are. And besides, you are the hero of Vesuvia! Don’t think I would let anyone who might take offense in something minor like your words, forget what you did for all of us.”

There wasn’t much Kachiri could return back at Nadia, the Countess having a way with her words that left Kachi with nothing but butterflies in her stomach. Sometimes, it could get really tough being the partner of someone so rational, yet kind. But hearing she had all this trust and respect from Nadia, who Kachi loved and idolized in many aspects of her life, certainly helped calm her.

“Also!” Nadia picked up, suddenly perking up and climbing off the bed. “Your words gave me such a good idea for tonight’s outfit!”

As if on cue, a knock echoed through the room, Nadia calling a tender, “Come in!” at the door, which opened to reveal Portia peeking her head in and grinning. “I got them, Milady!” Portia announced, door flying open widely to reveal another bucket full of flowers in her hands. The bright yellow, palm-sized flower heads were everything to Kachiri, immediately bringing a smile to her face, which Nadia perceived with a satisfied expression.

Portia didn’t waste time to bring over the sunflowers, setting them down next to the bed, before taking place at the edge of it herself. “Ready for some flowers in your hair?” she asked, expression turning into confusion when both Kachi and Nadia couldn’t help their voices rising in a laugh. “I am, apparently, a flower catcher, after all,” Kachiri chuckled, and Nadia agreed with a nod, climbing back behind her on the big bed.

It was a surprise that Nadia would arrange sunflowers for hair decoration, but Kachi was thankful she did. They were her favorite flowers after all, and it put her into the pleasure of having Nadia braid her hair loosely, whilst Portia handed her one flowerhead after the other. Nadia was well aware that anything too strict or a big up-do might be complicated once Kachiri’s hair dried. Then again, both of them enjoyed a more natural style anyway. Kachi sat back as she got pampered with some more soft touches, and tending to her, Portia giving away the reason for all of this.

“Nadia thought it would be grand to show the Duke just how much prettier sunflowers are after you mentioned them to him.”

“Nadia…” Kachiri gasped, surprised to find out that Nadia had thought this through way beyond sunflowers being Kachi’s favorite flowers. “That’s so sly!” she added, chuckling, and Nadia’s lips curled into a knowing smile, the three ladies falling into soft laughter. “Well, I believe he just has to appreciate your taste a little more, you know?”

Portia hummed loudly in agreement, leaving the room for the enclosed closet, gathering the evening clothes as Kachi presumed, while she and Nadia were left behind in silence.

“Thanks, Nadia,” Kachi eventually muttered sheepishly, slightly embarrassed.

For the first time, Nadia’s diligent fingers halted their movement, processing the words before continuing with their work. “For what, my Love?” she asked, voice soothing and calm, fitted to the situation. “Just…” Kachiri let out a short laugh, lifting her hand and gesturing from side to side aimlessly. “Everything.”

Blushing lightly, Kachiri fidgeted with the hem of her bathrobe, twirling it between her fingers. “Accepting me and fixing my mistakes… I’ll work even harder on myself in the future, I promise!”

Tender chuckles fell off Nadia’s lips as she finished braiding Kachi’s hair, pulling her fingers out of the artwork that was the big braid interlarded with the strongly shining, yellow flowers. Instead, her hand dropped to Kachiri’s, tugging her gently after Nadia off the bed and towards the large mirror in the corner of the room. “Look,” she pointed at Kachi’s reflection, wanting to show off how sweet she looked, with the soft braid from one side of her head to the other.

The golden gleam in her hair matched perfectly with the sunflowers decorating her now, together with the green of her eyes, which blended in as if they were stems. “I have a wonderful, beautiful partner. Every day I wake up with the rays of light, lucky to look at my personal sun sleeping next to me.” Nadia mused, hands on Kachi’s shoulders as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, standing behind her.

“I could never put into something as simple as words, how grateful I am, and what admiration I harbor for the strength you give me every day. So please, never feel less than deserving of everything that I can offer you, Kachiri. You made me the person I am today, and this person wants nothing more than to show you to the rest of the world, declaring you are the sunshine in my life.”

By now, it was impossible to hide the bright blush on Kachi’s face, especially when so exposed to her own reflection. All she could do is bring her hands up to her mouth, trying to shield it from revealing that huge, dorky grin on her lips. Though, Nadia had long seen it flash through the gaps in between Kachi’s fingers, a smile just as wide on her own face, proud and happy. “Let’s face the Duke and whoever comes afterwards - together, alright?”

“Okay,” Kachi agreed, turning around to face Nadia head-on for the first time. Their arms were quick to wrap around each other, lips finding the other like a perfect fit. After all, they were a well-attuned couple, knowing each other’s actions like their own. Through the affection and tender caress of her cheek, Kachi could feel Nadia’s strength and determination. Nadia was ahead of Kachiri already when it came to faith in herself and also in Kachi. Still, she’d be sure to take an example, wanting to give back exactly what Nadia offered her.

They only separated as they heard the shuffling of fabric, Portia returning from her scavenger hunt for evening clothes, laying them out on the bed. “What did I miss?” she asked chipperly, as she found the couple still united by their arms around each other. “Or… was I interrupting something?” she eventually figured, blushing lightly as the awkwardness hit her. Kachi and Nadia exchanged a quick glance before they started laughing, denying Portia’s worry, instead, opening up their arms for her to join them in a group hug.

“Careful now, we wouldn’t want the flowers to fall, would we?”

Laughing, Portia eased her heartful hug, and Kachiri chuckled. “We’ll show the Duke just how much better sunflowers are compared to figs!” she announced, now in agreement with the other two who were already doing their best to speak this into reality.

“You’re going to show him, Kachi!” Portia encouraged, and Nadia gave a sophisticated nod. “You can do it.”

Smiling from ear to ear, Kachiri let out a strong, “Yes!”, all the anxiety of the afternoon gone, as she knew that the people she could always count on, had her back. And in an instant, she was tightly smushed back between Nadia and Portia, their hug resuming as they all grinned widely.

And she wouldn’t have wanted to exchange the happiness she felt for anything in the world.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Promises Not Kept Part 6

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 6: Tommy defends Leah. Polly (drunkenly) defends women all around the world 

(gif isn’t mine)

           Beth handed Leah a porcelain teacup with gold accents around the rim. Steam rose from the chamomile tea, the scent relaxing just enough for Leah to take a deep breath.

           “Thank you.” She whispered and wrapped her hands around the warm cup.

           Beth sat down across from her. “Can you tell me what’s going on or…” She had been born and raised in Birmingham. As a young girl, she had been warned about the Shelby boys. Especially when they came back from the war and began to gain power.

           “If I knew I would tell you.” She pursed her lips together and held the tea close to her chest. Leah wasn’t sure she wanted to tell Beth about what she used to do in London. But past history aside, she didn’t know what she could tell her about Tommy. What could she say if she didn’t even know what was going on? Was she involved with him or was it just a fling? Despite the anxiety of Rosetta’s men at her apartment, Lizzie’s words still echoed in her brain. A man like Tommy wasn’t someone who enjoyed settling down into a subdued lifestyle. He made the choice to continue this dangerous streak of his. There was something about it that he enjoyed or the reward was worth the consequences. Or perhaps he was simply too far gone to get his head out from under the water.

           Leah had no inkling and she had a feeling she might never understand. So did she just leave it? Pretend she didn’t have feelings for the man who practically rescued her from her own despair? He put an end to her self-destructive tendencies and told her she was deserving of much more. Could she really shake the memories of how softly he touched her?

           “I can’t tell you what to do,” Beth said steadily. “But I can warn you that if you do interact with him…you’ll most likely pay a price. I mean Grace…”

           “I know about Grace.” She interrupted her. Leah didn’t want to hear about Grace. She didn’t want to hear people blame Tommy for her death. Maybe it could be argued that she died because of him, but Leah knew that he never intended that to happen. “He’s not callous.”

           “He’s a murderer.” Beth retorted. She leaned forward and touched Leah’s knee. “It’s a cycle, Lee, and I think he knows he’ll end up dead one of these days because of it. But until then, I don’t want you to be a victim of the Peaky Blinders.” She thought about all the young men in Birmingham who either crossed the gangsters’ paths and paid the price, or the ones who decided it was better to join them and got caught in the cross-fires.

           Leah set her tea cup down and nodded slowly. “I understand your concern. You’re not the first one to warn me.” She informed her friend. “And I doubt you’ll be the last. But Beth, I don’t know what to tell you. My life, for the last few years, has been nothing but hell. After I lost Jonah I thought I’d never recover. But since I’ve met him…” Her eyes lowered. The things she accomplished in Birmingham listed off in her mind. She knew that night; she would be warm in a comfortable bed in her very own flat. She wouldn’t have to entertain a stranger, sell her body to make ends meet. There would be no marks on her skin the next morning from clients who abused their power over her. She wouldn’t have to pick up the pieces of her dignity every time she walked home from the hotel, the dawn rising behind her. Her self-esteem was building when before, it had only be crushed every single time she forced herself to act the part of an expensive whore. She remembered how Tommy held her close at that crucial turning point in London. When he promised to take her away from that cycle of misery, promised her everything and more. Promised to take care of her like he had told Jonah he would.

           “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Beth’s voice was gentle with sympathy. She could only warn the woman of the potential, or in her eyes, inevitable dangers. Whatever Tommy had done had obviously affected her to the point she wouldn’t change her mind.

           Leah swallowed her tears and nodded. “Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~`

           “You lads looking for someone?” Tommy introduced his presence on the street. A few smart passersby turned around to avoid the scene altogether. It was never a good sign when all three Shelby men were striding down the street like soldiers entering a battle. With John and Arthur flanking him, Tommy looked positively menacing.

           The three men turned to address him. “Waiting for a mate, ain’t none of your fucking business.” Andrew spat a bit of tobacco onto the sidewalk.

           John smiled smugly and cracked his knuckles. He liked when people underestimated his brother. It was entertaining and usually meant they would be dealing out some punishments. No one spoke to Thomas Shelby like that in the streets of Birmingham.

           Andrew’s cohorts looked uneasy. “That’s Tommy Shelby, let’s just go.” The youngest one decided it was too much to risk over a girl who defected from Rosetta’s harem of Midland girls.

           But Andrew didn’t see the danger in front of him. “I ain’t afraid of some gypsies.” He scoffed.

           Tommy slipped off his cap. He gripped it tightly in his hand and waited for a beat. Rosetta’s enforcer was a good bit taller than Tommy but that didn’t deter him. The bigger they were, the harder they fell.

           And he did fall. A mangled scream left his mouth only moments after taunting the Blinder. His hands clutched over his last good eye, which had been slashed. Those who were willing to challenge the Shelbys in their own domain would receive their signature attack.

           Blood seeped through Andrew’s fingers and dripped down his arm. He fell to his knees first before Tommy delivered a jaw-breaking punch and sent him to the ground.

           Tommy’s ears rang with the familiar static noise that filled his brain when he flipped a switch. That switch that allowed him to crush a man’s very soul while looking him dead in the eyes. It was such an intense state of adrenaline that he couldn’t register the world around him. The numbness he felt on the daily was enhanced, allowing him to detach from the ruthless force he was inflicting. Every sensation was dulled. He didn’t notice his brothers subduing the other two men. He didn’t feel his teeth accidentally bite down on his own lip during the struggle. He couldn’t feel Andrew’s warm blood coating his hands as he grabbed the man’s collar.

           The man was still shrieking in pain and fear while the last bit of vision he had left was slipping away.

           Tommy pressed down on his throat to shut him up and keep him still. He leaned close, not disturbed by the blood. “You go back to Rosetta,” He breathed heavily from the anger that was fueling his strength. His voice was just barely above a deep, hissing whisper. “You tell her that if she even tries to harm Leah, she’ll have the Peaky Blinders to deal with.” He released his hold and stood up. Arthur had one of the men in a headlock while John had the other man on the ground, a foot pressing against his chest.

           “Get him out of here.” He instructed Andrew’s colleagues. “If you come back here you’ll end up in the morgue.” He threatened and nodded for his brothers to release the men. He turned and dug in his pockets for a cigarette. The blood coating his hands stained his coat but he didn’t notice. He hardly even noticed his lip was opened up during the fight as it stained the cigarette red when he took the first drag. It would take a bit before the ringing in his ears died down.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Beth was standing by the windows, anxiously watching the street. She wasn’t keen on having the Peaky Blinders around her home and shop but she didn’t want to kick out Leah either.

           Not too long after Leah’s call, Beth spotted Tommy walking towards the storefront. His brothers had gone back to the betting shop so he was alone.

           “Leah…” She turned to the woman who hadn’t moved from the couch the entire time.

           Without a word, Leah stood and went downstairs. Beth didn’t follow but stayed by the window to keep an eye on them.

           Tommy tossed his cigarette to the ground when Leah came out. Concern etched her brow. “You’re hurt.” She whispered.

           He only shook his head. “No, isn’t my blood.” He assumed she was talking about his shirt, which had been spotted red.

           Leah, in fact, was trying to ignore that fact. She didn’t want to know what Tommy had done but she hoped he had gotten the men to leave her alone. “No, your lip.” She approached him and pulled out a handkerchief from her skirt pocket. “You’re bleeding.”

           He touched his chin where a trail of blood had trickled from his lip. “Oh…”

           “It’s not too bad.” She carefully dabbed at the blood and cut.

           His blue eyes were fixed on hers, the aftermath of the fight was starting to die down. The numbness subsided and he could finally feel her gentle touch. Maybe that was the only thing he would ever feel again. When she moved her hand back, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. He didn’t want her to let go.

           So she didn’t. She used her free hand to touch his cheek and pocketed the stained handkerchief. The pads of her fingertips subtly rubbed over his cheekbone. He leaned into her touch, grateful for its sobering effect.

           “The woman in your house this morning…”

           Tommy sighed because he knew exactly what was coming. His assistant had gotten to her first, which was probably why she had left before seeing him that morning. “Lizzie.” He nodded. “What did she say to you?”          

           “She warned me about you.” She answered honestly. “She said you’d get tired of me eventually. Told me not to waste my time because I would only end up hurt.”

           His eyes studied her face. She didn’t seem uneasy if anything she was longing for honesty. “Are you worried?”

           She nodded slowly and moved her fingers to graze down his jawline. “For you? Yeah.” Her voice was quiet through her admission. “Maybe I’m naïve for thinking you felt the same way as I did.”

           He shook his head and let his fingers loosen around her wrist, letting her go. She didn’t move her hand even when he released her. “You’re not.”

           ���How do you know for sure?”

           “Because through everything I’ve been through, I feel much better with you.” He explained genuinely.

           Leah bit her lip. “I want to know what kind of man you really are. I don’t want to keep hearing about what other people think of you. You tell me who you really are and I’ll do the same. I just need to know that I can trust you.” Because she had lost the last man she truly trusted. And she wasn’t foolish enough to blindly trust the next person who came along.

           “I can prove that to you,” Tommy said with confidence. He knew there wouldn’t be anything he could do to harm her. Not when she knew exactly what he felt like. She knew what it felt to be numb. Neither of them wanted that anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           When Tommy entered the dress shop, Beth was with a client. The woman was the wife of one of his men. He tipped his hat to her before slipping it off.

           “Afternoon, Mr. Shelby.” She greeted politely.

           Beth wasn’t as welcoming. She was still highly suspicious of the Shelby. In her opinion, he had no right to her delicate friend. She didn’t know just how much Leah had fared. “She’s in the back.” Despite her doubts, she couldn’t tell him to piss off.

           Tommy nodded and walked to the back storage room. It was a narrow hall stacked almost to the ceiling with fabric bolts and broken sewing machines. The man was so stealthy in his movements that he startled Leah.

           “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that!” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Gave me a fright.”

           He smiled and he held his hands up in apology. “Thought you heard me.”

           She liked seeing him smile. Especially because he smiled when she turned around and his eyes settled on her face. At that moment he wasn’t the terrifying gangster that everyone else saw. He was just a man who was happy to see someone he was developing feelings for. These feelings were blossoming very slowly and tentatively. He was afraid of them for more than one reason, too many to count in fact, but he didn’t often shy away from things that scared him.

           “While you’re here, can you hold this steady for me?” She dragged a rickety chair towards him.

           “Sure.” He set his cap and newspaper aside to hold the back of the chair. Leah picked up her long skirt and stepped up onto the chair to reach a bolt of red satin. The aging wood creaked and he was concerned over a very loose looking leg. But it held up just fine and she stepped down without incident.

           Her hair swept past him and he caught a whiff of her perfume. It was so alluring he lost his train of thought and the reason he was there.

           “Up to no good today?” Her teasing reminded him he did have a purpose for being there. He wasn’t just there to see her, although that wasn’t a bad excuse either.

           “I wouldn’t bring trouble to you.” He replied with deep fondness etched into his usually intense tone. “I’ve come to tell you I’ll be off to Warwickshire tomorrow. Be gone for the next few days.”

           Leah tucked the bolt of fabric underneath her arm. “Little holiday?”

           “You could say that.” He shrugged and leaned his shoulder against a nearby shelf. “Going hunting with me brothers.” He didn’t tell her about the letter he received from America about his father. His brothers didn’t even know yet so he didn’t think it was right to tell her before he told them.

           “That should be fun.” It was nice to know he’d be away from business for a few days. Especially doing something that he enjoyed.

           “You could come along.” He offered. “Get out of Birmingham for a bit. You’d get to meet Charlie.”

           She sighed softly. “That does sound lovely, but I have to work.”

           “Soon though.” He stepped closer to her. The space getting smaller in the cramped room. “You’ll be safe with me gone?” He asked and brushed a few stray wisps of hair from her face.

           “I’ll be alright.” While Tommy was thinking of every possible thing that could go wrong, Leah was only thinking about how she would miss him.

           “I’ll leave the number to Arrow House.” He let his hand cup her cheek. His eyes were soft on her. “Call if you need anything.”

           “What if I just want to hear your voice?” A playful smile formed on her lips.

           “Then you know who to ask for.” He replied with a chuckle.

           “I’ll miss you.” The words surprised her even as they left her own mouth. But she let them remain between them without correcting herself.

           “Only be a couple of days, maybe less. Be back before you know it, eh?” He tilted his head down slightly to be at her eye line.

           Leah hadn’t realized how much she missed the way he looked at her. The way the ice in his iris melted significantly. “When you come back, can we spend time together?”

           “You want to?” Tommy had a lot on his mind. Things with the Russians were getting more intense. He intended on creating a plan that afternoon and setting it into motion as soon as he was able to.

           Her nod was a little timid. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” She admitted. “Beth thinks I’ve got my head in the clouds.”

           “That such a bad thing?” The corner of his lips quirked up. At least he wasn’t the only one who was getting distracted by the relationship.

           “S’pose not. Unless I’m being led along like a fool.”

           Tommy shook his head and tilted his head to kiss her. He figured the gesture was better. He could talk his way out of any situation but he had trouble with deciding exactly what to say to Leah. It was much easier to show her physically than to have to trip over words like a schoolboy.

           Leah kissed him back, focused on how gentle he was. One hand lightly touched her waist, his other hand combed through her hair, his long fingers slipping through her curls.

           He was about to take the fabric from her hand and deepen the kiss but they were interrupted.

           “Leah, did you find that red satin?” Beth called from the front of the store. “Want me to help you find it?”

           Leah pulled back from Tommy. “Yeah, I found it!” She replied and gave him an apologetic look. “Have fun on your holiday, yeah? Try to relax.”

           There was no promising that he could ever relax. That was something he was notably terrible at. “Give me a ring when you can.” He slipped on his cap again and reached into the inside of his coat to pull out his cigarette case.

           “Okay.” She pecked his cheek and slipped by him.

           Tommy’s hand slipped past the telegram about his father’s death. He sighed and went out the back exit of the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Later that same day, there hadn’t been much activity in the store. Beth and Leah chatted idly but the conversation of Tommy never came up. In fact they both avoided it as well as they could.

           The door finally opened and Georgia, a woman who worked as a typist a few shops down, entered. “What're you still doing here? Didn’t you two hear?”

           “Hear 'bout what?” Beth looked up from her ledger at the counter.

           “Jessie Eden’s having a rally. All the women at the wire cutting factory’ve walked out.”

           “Really?” Leah raised an eyebrow. She was well aware of the women’s rights activists who often held rallies for better working conditions. They were active in London and sometimes Leah would linger in the back of the affairs just to listen in. But there was no chance she could ever participate. The Midland girls, or the ones at the brothel, could never demand better conditions. Either Rosetta would put them out on the street or have her henchmen bully them into submission. But it was lovely to think about getting respect as a human being.

           “All the women in Birmingham are going down to the Bull Ring,” Georgia said. "Going to make a statement about the equal rights we fucking deserve."

           Beth looked unsure. “S’just us two, we don’t have any men to complain about.” She and Leah chuckled.

           “Then come and show support for your fellow woman,” Georgia replied with a hand on her hip. “Not all of us can be as lucky as you lot.”

           “If all the women are there then they won’t be coming to get dresses.” Leah pointed out.

           Beth smiled. “That’s a good point. Alright, let’s go support our fellow woman.”

~~~~~~~~~

           Indeed, it seemed every woman in Birmingham had shown up to the rally. Already, there was a buzz of activity. At the center of the crowd, an older woman was standing on the back of a truck, shouting to the women.

           “Oh dear.” Beth sighed. “That’s Tommy Shelby’s aunt.” She pointed to the woman.

           “Up there?” Leah stood on her tiptoes to see over the crowd of women. “She seems passionate.”

           Polly was yelling about a revolution, adding in curses every other word. She certainly spoke like a Shelby. But Leah wasn't sure that Shelbys were so actively public. They seemed to work behind the scenes to get what they wanted.

           “She seems drunk as shit.” Beth shook her head and laughed. “Wonder what Jessie’s thinking 'bout what she's going on 'bout.”

           “They seem to agree.” The women were calling out things that needed to change and how they agreed with Polly. "I think they really like her."

           Beth grinned and shook her head. “Well, I’m glad we can get out for fresh air. Just glad we don’t have to deal with men in our own fucking shop. I’d hate to answer to some wanker who doesn’t know anything.”

           Leah laughed and linked arms with her friend. “Maybe you should be up there yelling.”

           “They’re good for fucking but not for thinking!” Beth hollered. They both burst into giggles and joined the women in demanding equal rights.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Beth decided not to open the shop up again after the rally. Leah went home with a smile on her face. She enjoyed the sense of freedom she got from being there. No longer was she a working girl who had no voice. Men didn’t keep her quiet night after night. They didn’t look at her like she was nothing more than an object to be used.

           As she passed through the door, the phone began to ring. Setting her things aside, Leah went to pick up the receiver. “Ward residence.”

           “Were you at the rally this afternoon?” Tommy sounded tired but not angry.

           “Beth and I went to watch.” She answered truthfully. “I can’t imagine anyone didn’t go, the Bull Ring was crowded. I saw your aunt.”

           He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, so I’ve heard.”

           “They all seemed to like her.” Leah couldn’t help but smile. Polly only got more worked up the longer she stood preaching.

           “She can be more pleasant when she’s drunk.”  

           She laughed softly. “Did you have fun hunting?”

           “Shot a stag, so I can’t complain.” He wished she were there with him. Arrow House always felt unbearably empty after Grace passed. It was a little easier the more Charlie grew. He ran circles around his nanny but was a sweet little boy who always wanted to be outside with the horses. He made the house feel a little fuller. But there was an obvious gap where a mother figure would usually inhabit.

           “Well, I’m glad you could get the time off.” She said softly.

           Tommy nodded absent-mindedly although he had thought about nothing but business the moment he arrived in Warwickshire. And now there was a Bentley parked outside in the drive and he had an idea who might be in his office. “Can I take you out tomorrow night?” He asked.

           “Sure. To the Garrison?”

           “I was thinking somewhere for dinner? Somewhere quieter.” He offered. “That way we could talk.”

           “I’d like that a lot.” Leah bit her lip as she smiled. “You can pick me up at my flat?”

           “I’ll see you then.” Tommy couldn’t ignore what he had to do for much longer. There was information he needed and he knew how he could get it. “Have a good night, Leah.”

           “You too, Tommy.”

           He slowly replaced the receiver and took a deep breath. With another breath, he straightened his shirt cuffs and entered his office.

           “I’m sorry I came unannounced.” Tatiana sat at Tommy’s desk, a playful look in her eyes.

           Something, perhaps dread, settled into Tommy’s stomach like a deadweight. He had a feeling he was going to do something he would regret.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​

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[qualquercoisa945]

Faith Ain’t No Privilege

Title Inspiration: Next To Me by Imagine Dragons

AO3 Link

okay so this is all pure self indulgence for @kitty-howard's six spy au, apparently this is canon which is making me go !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but yee enjoy!!

trigger warnings: mentions of a character being shot, sexual abuse and pedophilia. nothing is described, they're really only mentions, but i thought it best to still add it

For Anne and Kath to come home late was not uncommon in the slightest. A rarer, but still common enough occurrence that Anne could remember the last time it happened, was for Lizzie to still be up when they got home. Awake or not, and admittedly a little out of paranoia that something had happened to the girl, she made it a point to check in on her when they got home. Lizzie had a tendency to hurt herself, she knew better than to leave her to her own devices for long.

And also the fact that Henry and his men would make a target of her extremely quickly. That was definitely a contributing factor to her paranoia.

Which was why when, one night where they came home late once more, she opened the door to Lizzie’s room only to find it empty, her mind immediately went to the worst possible situation- worries that were only heightened when she noticed a note on top of the pillow- one that was definitely not in Lizzie’s handwriting, she also realized.

“Annie?” Anne glanced back behind her to look at Kath, who was standing in the hallway watching her awkwardly. “Is Lizzie alright?” She didn’t answer, instead turning back to the room and walking to the bed to grab the note, feeling her hands shake more as she got closer. She was vaguely aware of Kitty following her in, but didn’t pay her much attention.

As she got closer, she noticed the note wasn’t written on a regular piece of paper, but instead on the back of a photograph. She reached out to grab it, and she noticed Kath looking over her shoulder to read the note. Thanks for the hint, it said, which answered nothing. “What hint?” Kath asked, holding onto her arm lightly. Anne just shrugged in response, focused on the note. When she flipped it around to see the actual photograph, though, she nearly screamed.

It was the photo of Lizzie she typically carried with her, the one she’d lost just a few days ago. She’d assumed, or rather hoped, that she’d simply dropped it on the sidewalk and it had been swept away, but it seemed she hadn’t had no such luck. She felt Kitty cling onto her arm when she flipped the photo around. “They took her?” She murmured quietly.

Anne waited for a moment, then gripped onto the edge of the paper and shoved it in her pocket. “Yeah.” She growled. “And they’re gonna pay for it.

When she’d first moved in, Kath had been confused as to why Anne insisted on having so many security cameras, along with the alarms and, sometimes, even guards she’d spotted surrounding the house. After joining Six, those things that had previously been confusing became understandable and even reassuring- that in case anything happened, they had put measures in place to minimize the damage.

And now, said case had happened, with Lizzie being kidnapped. The cameras allowed them to figure out the guy’s license plate, which let them track him down, and that sent them down a long streak of tracking people down until finally, they cracked where Lizzie was being kept, within just a couple of days.

Problem was, during the last of these missions, Anne had gotten shot, meaning she wouldn’t be able to go on the actual rescue mission. Kath felt anxious about that- relaxed as she usually acted, Lizzie must be feeling terrified after this entire ordeal, and having a friendly, or at least familiar face there would help, even if only a little bit.

It was then that an idea began forming. It was a long shot, for sure, but not trying would make her feel awful about it, so she decided to shoot it. Thus, the night before the mission, she made her way to Aragon’s office.

The two rarely interacted- Aragon was very often on the field and Katherine had never even stepped foot on it, not to mention they were always busy with their separate projects, leaving them with very little time to actually talk. Still, she supposed there was a first time for everything.

“Catherine?” She asked as she quietly knocked on the doorway, seeing as the door was open. She waited for her to look up, then continued. “May I come in?” She got nothing apart from a nod in response, so she walked in and quietly closed the door behind her.

“I want to talk about tomorrow’s mis-” “Do you want to come?”

Kath stared at her in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Anne isn’t in good enough condition to go, nowhere near it.” Catherine began calmly. “You’d stay in the car with Grace, but I think Elizabeth would benefit from seeing a familiar face.” She stopped, staring at a photograph on her desk. Kath followed her gaze- it was of a teenage girl, she’d say around fifteen or sixteen. She looked an awful lot like Catherine, which caused her to assume that was Mary, her daughter.

“Either way,” Catherine spoke up, causing Kath to snap out of it, “you’re not forced to come. It’s an option, but I unders-” “No no, I was actually here to ask you if I could come.” She explained, a bit of a nervous giggle at the end of the phrase.

Kath could’ve sworn she’d noticed a ghost of a smile flicker on Catherine’s face, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. “Then it’s settled. I’ll warn Grace. You’re dismissed.”

Kath turned around to leave, then stopped as Catherine spoke up again. “Oh, Katherine?” She turned around to face her boss. “Tell Anne she can go home early. You go too, I’d rather make sure she doesn’t get herself hurt again. And don’t expect this to become the norm.”

Kath nodded, then turned back around and leaving, a small smile on her face and a slight skip to her step.

Being stuck in the car, Kath soon realized, was just as anxiety inducing, if not more, then being stuck in their head quarters. Grace tried to keep the mood light with calm conversation at first from the driver’s seat, which she’d appreciated, but both had silently agreed that it wasn’t working, so now they waited in silence.

She glanced upwards for what felt like the umpteenth time, but for the first time she actually noticed something worth seeing- Anna leaving the building, her arm wrapped around-

Lizzie. She was a mess, her hair thrown everywhere. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and- Was that a cut on her cheek? “Good thing Anne isn’t here…” She mumbled to herself, sitting up a bit straighter as Anna pulled the girl along towards the car.

She turned to watch as Anna opened the door to the back seat, where Kath was. “Here, come in sweetheart.” Her voice was a lot softer than usual, similar to the one she used when helping Kath treat hurt agents in the medical bay.

“Thank you, miss.” Lizzie’s voice was heard from outside, but she froze as she began climbing onto the car. “Kitty?” Kath smiled sheepishly as she heard her call her name.

“Hi Lizzie. Let’s just, get back and then we’ll explain everything, yeah?” Kath watched as Lizzie stared at her for roughly thirty seconds, then sighed and nodded.

“Fine. But this better be quick.”

Before she could answer, Anna spoke up. “I can’t promise that. I’m gonna go back in and make sure Catherine, Vicki and Courtney are alright. Will you three be okay on your own?”

“Don’t worry, Cleves, we’re gonna be fine.” Grace replied from the driver’s seat, turning around to face her with a slight smirk. “Go kick ass.”

“And don’t get hurt.” Kath added, to which Anna nodded.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll see about the others though.” She mumbled quietly, then sighed, closing the door quietly and running back inside.

Grace’s attention turned to Lizzie. “Hey Eliz-”

“Don’t.” Lizzie warned, cutting her off. “Lizzie or Liz. Only people allowed to call me by my full name are my mum and my teachers.” Kath smiled a little- despite everything, Lizzie still had the familiar snark to her. Still, her voice was much quieter, and gentler as well. She could tell something had happened.

“Right.” Grace replied with a nod and an amused smile. “Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Liz. Name’s Grace.” Lizzie nodded in response, keeping herself closer to Kath, who wrapped an arm around her.

“Nice to meet you too.” She replied eventually, and the three fell into somewhat tense silence. Meanwhile, Kath’s thoughts wandered back to Anne, and how she’d be fairing back at the HQ. Not well, she assumed, but she didn’t voice it out loud. No use in stressing everyone out even more.

Back in their head quarters, Catherine made her way to where Anne had been sitting all night. She made sure to knock on the door, not wanting to startle her, then came in. “How’re you holding up?”

Anne shrugged, giving her a bitter laugh. “How’s it look?” she replied, glaring at her injured shoulder before sighing. “Sorry, I’m just worried about Lizzie and Kitty.” She added soon after, something that made Catherine stop. Anne rarely apologized for her snarky remarks. She must be really bad, she guessed to herself, sitting down beside her.

“I’d be worried too. If something happened to Mae…” She trailed off, shaking her head as if physically trying to shake the thought off. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, to even consider the possibility.

“You love her a lot, don’t you?” Her train of thought was interrupted by Anne’s comment. “You get this look on your face when you talk about her, it’s like you just soften, even if just for a bit.” Parr stared at her as she spoke, a small smile spreading across her face.

“I could say the same about you, Anne.” She replied, her smile turning into a smirk at Anne’s surprise. “You turn into a completely different person when you talk about her. More relaxed, more calm.” She offered her a gentle smile. “More, open, I suppose you could say.”

Anne smiled, but before she could reply there was a knock on the door. Aragon was standing there, in her usual straight posture,

but there was a slight slump to it, a tiredness to the way she carried herself that didn’t go unnoticed to Parr. And when she spoke, her voice was unusually soft, which would be odd if the circumstances weren’t taken into consideration.

“Anne, your daughter’s in the medical bay.” Before Anne could panic, she continued. “She’ll be fine, don’t you worry. Just a cut. But we thought it best to make sure it wasn’t infected.” Catherine watched as Anne’s body relaxed ever so slightly. “If you plan on seeing her, I trust you don’t need me to show you the way.”

Anne chuckled, standing up and walking to the door. She stopped besides Aragon, looking back at them oddly calmly considering the situation. “Thanks, Catherine.” She murmured, and neither of the two could quite realize which of them it was for. Wouldn’t matter either way, as Anne was well on her way before they could reply to her.

Anne’s confident demeanor quickly diminished as she made her way towards the medical bay, hands on her pockets as she slipped her way in between coworkers. As she got near it, she saw both Cleves and Kath leaving the area, and quickly sprinted towards them. “How is-”

“She’s alright.” Kath guaranteed as she squeezed her hand. “A little shaken up, which is understandable, and a few cuts here and there. But otherwise she’s okay. She’ll be alright.” She promised, but Anne could tell there was something else in her mind.

“We haven’t told her about… What this whole thing is.” Cleves took over, making Anne shift her gaze to look up as she gestured towards their surroundings. “Figured you’d rather do it yourself.” Anne nodded stiffly, taking a deep breath.

“Thank you.” She murmured, and for once there was no humour in her voice. She watched as the pair gave their goodbyes, then headed down the hall, before turning back to face the door. She took a quick, deep breath, then reached forward and opened it.

Spotting Lizzie in the mostly white and blue space of the medical bay wasn’t hard. Looking at her, though? The girl was curled up in one of the beds, trembling like a leaf. She looked so small, and it broke Anne’s heart to see her like that.

She tried to walk over to her quietly, but the echo of her footsteps was enough to startle the girl, and she stopped as Lizzie sat up, immediately looking over to the source of the noise.

Actually seeing Lizzie’s face was what nearly made her break. It wasn’t the cut, no- she’d seen her daughter with injuries of that kind fairly often thanks to her restlessness. It was her eyes. They were red and puffy, and it was clear to Anne that she’d been crying.

“Oh, Liz…” She murmured, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. Near immediately, Lizzie clung onto her, a hug Anne quickly reciprocated as she gently pulled the girl onto her lap. Lizzie was quick to bury her face on her shoulder, and soon enough she felt tears wet her suit. “Hey, hey, I’m here.” She soothed softly, rocking the girl gently back and forth as she hummed a quiet melody- a French lullaby she’d learned during her time studying there.

The two stayed there for a while, Anne wasn’t sure how much, just her and Lizzie in the medical bay as she tried to soothe her daughter as best as she could. She held her close, but not tightly, giving her ample of space to pull away if she needed to.

Eventually, Lizzie sniffled, then pulled away ever so slightly to instead rest her head on Anne’s shoulder. “Mama…” She mumbled, pressing herself as close as possible.

Anne leaned forward to kiss her forehead, still keeping her close. “I’m here, mon princesse. I’m right here.” She promised softly, lightly squeezing her shoulder to reinforce the message. “I’m right here.” She repeated, brushing some stray hair back to no avail.

Lizzie seemed like she was considering telling her something, but Anne didn’t press her, simply waiting while holding her close.

“There was this man.” Anne perked up slightly as Lizzie started talking, voice barely a whisper. “He touched me. Never… did that, though.” She choked up on the last word, and Anne immediately shushed her, burying the anger burning in her chest down for later. Lizzie came first.

For now, she just pulled the girl closer, and Lizzie let herself be held, and silence fell on them again, even if just for a moment.

“Mum?”

“Hm?”

“What is this place?” Lizzie shifted to look at Anne, sniffling quietly as she wiped away tears. “What is this whole mess?”

Anne sighed, staring at the floor for a moment before looking up to face her. “I never wanted you to find out this way.” She began, voice oddly calm. “I’ve told you about your father, and how he wasn’t a good person. He’s… got a mafia, I suppose you could call it, but honestly it’s more of a network. ‘Bad person’ is honestly an understatement for him, he’s done a lot of bad stuff to get to where he is.”

“And, we’re Six. We’re an spy organization made by the government to take his mafia and any connections down. Aragon, you’ve met her, right?” Lizzie nodded, and Anne continued. “She’s the boss of this entire thing. She seems scary, but she cares a lot. Henry and her dated before this whole mess.” Anne chuckled lightly as Lizzie blinked in surprise. “Yeah, really.” She turned serious again. “Had a daughter and everything. She’s a couple years older than you. Really, I think she just wants to make sure her daughter stays safe and get revenge. Can’t blame her, that’s all I want too.” She sighed, kissing Lizzie’s forehead. “But I guess I kinda failed at that first bit, huh?”

“Is that why there’s so much security at home?” Anne nodded, and suddenly she felt Lizzie shift, leaning slightly up to kiss her forehead. “With all the measures you took, I’m honestly surprised they managed to do it. You did all you could. One mistake won’t mess everything up, remember.” Anne chuckled softly at Lizzie’s small, proud smirk while hearing her repeat what Anne herself had told her thousands of times.

“You’re very wise, sweetheart. I’m proud to be your mum.” She kissed the girl’s forehead, stopping for a moment. “Anything else you wanna ask about?”

“The other women that went to get me, why are they in this? And yes, that includes Kitty.”

“Well, Cleves is another one of his exes.” Lizzie raised an eyebrow, and Anne smirked a little. “He had six of them, and that’s only counting official relationships.” She nearly laughed as Lizzie’s eyes widened, but kept her composure. “She’s said before that she mostly wants to move on, but, and I quote,” she put on a terrible German accent, “‘I can’t just stand by while the asshole gets his way’. Kitty’s got the same motivation.”

“Wait wait wait, go back.” Lizzie interrupted, frowning. “Isn’t Kitty, like, nineteen? And isn’t Henry a fucking middle aged man?”

Anne hesitated, eventually sighing. “I’m not sure what the nature of their relationship is either, sweetheart. She never told me, and I didn’t want to press her. Even if she had, it’s not my place to tell you.” She explained, watching as Lizzie thought over these words, then nodded.

“And the other three, Grace, Courtney, and Vicki?”

“Extra agents. They’re the cream of the top, the ones we go to for the most important missions.” She noticed Lizzie raise an eyebrow, and nodded, waiting for her to speak.

“Why didn’t you come?”

Anne froze, hesitant to answer. “To figure out where you were, we had to track down quite a few people.” She explained, eyes trained on the floor. “I got reckless on the mission right before this one and, got hurt. Aragon didn’t let me go.” She paused for a moment, hesitant on adding more information. “Normally Kitty doesn’t go on the field, but Aragon figured it would be easier for you if there was a familiar face there.”

“Ah, so Aragon’s your classic ‘acts tough but is secretly soft’ kinda person?” Anne laughed as Lizzie’s comment, nodding.

“If she likes you, yeah. She has a soft spot for kids, I guess.” The two fell back into silence for a little, before Anne kissed the top of Lizzie’s head.

“Get some sleep, yeah? I’ll get you back home tomorrow. You’ve had a long day.” Lizzie nodded, and Anne stood up, still holding her, before setting her back on the bed. She watched as Lizzie curled the blanket up around her tightly, much like a cat, and chuckled softly before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

She sat back down on the edge of the bed, lightly carding her fingers through the girl’s hair as she quietly sung the same old french lullaby she’d been using with her her whole life. She watched as the girl’s breathing evened out, and lightly set her hand back on her lap, watching her for a moment.

She was disturbed by the door opening, quickly looking up to see Grace. “Your kid’s pretty tough, I’ll tell you that, Anne.” Grace began with a small smile, walking over. “Gets it from you.” Anne smiled at the (albeit indirect) compliment, but it quickly faded as Grace continued. “Aragon wants to talk to you. I’d hurry if I were you, she seemed a little antsy.”

Anne nodded, shooting one last look at Lizzie before standing up. “Thanks Grace. I’ll see you tomorrow, or something like that?”

“See you tomorrow, Anne.”

Anne shot her a quick smile and a goodbye, before leaving the medical bay and heading towards Aragon’s office.

Catherine sat at her desk, writing a report on the latest mission, when someone knocked on her door. She had a good guess as to who it was, so she set her pen down and looked up as to give them her full attention. “Come in.”

As expected, Anne Boleyn came in, and Catherine nodded as a greeting. “Sit down, this might take a while.” She raised an eyebrow when Boleyn chuckled, although she did follow her instructions.

“All business, as always, huh Aragon?” Catherine’s eyes narrowed, and for once Boleyn didn’t press any further, although taking into account the circumstances, she supposed that was to be expected. “Alright, fair enough. What did you want?”

“After, what happened to you and your daughter, I’ve been thinking.” Catherine began, keeping an eye on Boleyn to make sure she was paying attention. “What happened here was mostly a case of Elizabeth being on her own, correct?” Boleyn nodded, and Catherine continued.

“I believe it might be best if the six of us, and our children,” she paused, shifting her gaze towards the photo of Mary she kept in her desk for a moment, before shifting it back to Boleyn, “Moved into a joint house.”

Boleyn frowned at those words. “Aragon, I fail to understand how that would help us avoid further incidents like these. Wouldn’t that simply make it easier for Henry or his men to find us? And furthermore, you do realize that it takes quite a bit of negotiating and such to coexist in the same house. I’m just saying, with all due respect, this might not be the best idea.”

Catherine bit back a sigh- she’d expected this type of complaint. “I understand where you’re coming from, Boleyn. But a joint residence makes it easier for our organization to apply security measures, besides the ones the six of us might want to add ourselves.” She paused, hesitating on whether or not she should add this next part.

“And, I’d feel much more relaxed if I could keep a closer eye on all of you, and it’d also make contacting each other easier outside of a work setting.” She studied Boleyn as she thought over those words, but was surprised when she smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“So you do care about us!” Catherine glared at her, biting back a small smile of her own. She’s not wrong, she thought, but there’s no need to give her that satisfaction.

“Don’t push your luck, Boleyn. I’m still your boss.” She warned, although her tone was slightly softer than in previous occasions. “And to clarify, this is just a suggestion. I haven’t talked to the others about this just yet. So just, think it over, and keep your mind open to the possibility, yes?”

Boleyn nodded, and Catherine mimicked her. “Alright, is there anything you’d like to discuss?” She waited as Boleyn seemed to hesitate, before speaking.

“How did Kit- I mean, Katherine handle being on the field?” She asked, a uncommon nervousness to her tone as her fingers tapped on the desk restlessly. Catherine reached out, setting a hand on top of hers to stop her, before giving it a light squeeze and then pulling her hand back.

“She did fine. She stayed in the car throughout the mission, but as I’ve told you, I thought Elizabeth might like to have a familiar face there, and you were in no shape to be there so, that left her.” Boleyn nodded, pausing for a moment before speaking again.

“One more thing, and please be honest with me here, Catherine.” Catherine blinked at Boleyn’s sudden switch to her first name, leaning forward slightly. “Do you think Henry will be going after our children now?”

Catherine froze at that, hesitating as she thought over those words. “I can’t be sure, Anne.” She finally admitted, taking a quick breath. “You know how unpredictable he can be. But, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were to do so.” She sighed. “That’s another reason I’d rather we all stuck together. Keeping an eye on them would be easier like that.”

She noticed Boleyn looking away, tensing ever so slightly, and she reached out to take her hand. “If you’d like to stay here with Elizabeth, I understand.”

Boleyn nodded, slipping her hand out of Catherine’s hold. “Thank you, Catherine, I’ll- I’ll take you up on that offer.” She stood up, turning to leave. “And, I’ll think about it. The shared house thing, I mean.”

Catherine nodded, watching as Boleyn left, then sighed to herself as she shifted her gaze to the photo on her desk. She stared at it for a while, she wasn’t sure how long, before reaching into her pocket for her personal phone, calling Mary.

As the phone rang, she looked at the clock. It was well past midnight, nearly 1 AM, so she doubted Mary would be up, but it wa-

“Hello?” Well, never mind that.

“Hello mi princesita.” She smiled a little to herself at the nickname, and also at hearing her daughter’s voice. “You’re up awfully late, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Her voice sounded tired, and Catherine frowned at that. “I just couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go and catch up on some assignments. They’re not due in a while, but still. Why’d you call?”

Catherine hesitated at that, unsure of how to answer. “Just… something happened at work, and I decided to check on you.” She paused. “And also I missed you.” She added, slightly more quiet.

“Missed you too, mum.” She heard a yawn over the phone. “Are you coming home soon?”

“I’m not sure about soon, but tonight, yeah. Hopefully in…” She glanced at the paperwork she’d been working on, then at the clock, and then paused to consider her options. “Actually, I’m gonna start packing up now. I’ll be there in, thirty minutes or so.

“Sounds go-” She was cut off by a yawn. “Sounds good. So, see you then?”

“See you then, mi princesita. Te amo.”

“También te amo, mamá.” The two stayed in silence for a moment, and then there was a click, indicating the end of the call. Catherine sighed. She’d have to work twice as fast tomorrow if she wanted to finish everything on time, but she hadn’t seen Mary in nearly two days now. Common as it was, it didn’t make it any easier. Still, Catherine had to wonder if it was the right decision

Silently, she began packing her stuff up, listening as she heard other agents say their goodbyes. Once she was ready to go, she spared one more glance towards the photo, before heading out.

On her way out, however, she passed the medical bay. She stopped at the entrance, then quietly opened the door and peeked in. She was met with Anne, asleep on a chair next to one of the beds, the one where Elizabeth was laying, also sleeping. Catherine watched the scene for a moment, then smiled softly to herself and closed the door just as quietly as she had opened it, continuing to make her way out.

Yes, she thought as she left the building, I made the right decision.

[dougchanlek]

Bio

Hello everyone, my name is Emma and, under the cut, is Douglas’ bio. Would be great to get some plotting going on. Really looking forward to being here!

★ IN CHARACTER ★

Full Name: Douglas Chanlek Gender & Pronouns: Male, he/him Date of Birth: (02/18/1986), (33). Place of Birth: Ottawa, Canada. Neighborhood: Kensington Park. Length of Residency: 7 years. Occupation: Actuary. Face Claim: Godfrey Gao

★ BIOGRAPHY ★

Douglas was born into a very fortunate family. His father, Sakchai, was a well-regarded investment analyst who spent much of his time away from home as he consulted with important firms and banks around the world. Meanwhile, his mother, Malai, worked as a florist – usually catering for weddings and other large events. Douglas spent a lot of time at his mother’s florist shop, helping her out with the flowers and doing his homework in the back room away from the customers. He loved getting a chance to go to weddings and see all the happy brides and grooms smile and laugh, ecstatic on what should be the happiest day of their lives. When he was eight, his younger sister, Elizabeth, was born and seemed to complete their perfect family. Doug liked her well enough but wasn’t too fussed about her one way or the other – the age gap was just slightly too big to push them together the way that their mother seemed to want them to get on, but Doug looked out for her and they spent their weekends together when asked. Then, when Doug was fourteen, the family moved to New York City so his father could be closer to the businessmen he worked with. His parents claimed the move was to save their marriage but all Doug could see it doing was ending it. His mother lost all her contacts so her business had to be shuttered, both he and Lizzie were taken from their friends, and his father still barely ever came home. From their penthouse suite, Doug planned to live his life better than his parents had – with a greater purpose to it all.

On completion of high school, Doug went to his Dad’s preferred university choice of Yale. He majored in Math, just like his father wanted him to; and he panicked that maybe he wasn’t going to be able to get out of his family’s clutches like he had always thought he would. He was reliant on his parents to pay his tuition and give him a place to stay when he graduated, so he had to do what they wanted, at least for a little while. Using his family’s connections, he got a job as an actuary, working in a job that was definitely way too much for him way too soon. He had to lie and fabricate and pretend that he knew what he was doing, hoping that nobody would call his bluff. Whether he succeeded, or whether everyone was just too scared to fire Sakchai’s son, he will never know, but he kept progressing up the ranks. Soon enough, his salary was enough to move out with so he did. At the age of 26, he made the decision to up sticks and move to the West Coast, he wanted out from the world his parents inhabited and needed to do it soon. He applied for naturalization at this time too, beginning the process needed for him to become an American citizen, which would help him get employed easier.

The first few months in Westlake were really tough. Doug wasn’t used to making friends and moving away from his support network and college friends was difficult. He kept to himself and didn’t meet his neighbours for months, choosing instead to stay in and focus on work. However, as he set up shop as a local actuary, willing to help local businesses (for a hefty fee), he began to meet new people. He joined a church, went to the gym and allowed himself to be present in the town for the first time. He was no longer worried about his father looking over his shoulder and judging him, nor did he have to compare himself to his more successful classmates. Everything he earned in Westlake, he earned for himself. With his citizenship in hand, Doug celebrated all his successes, and proudly returned to New York City to tell his family, only to find out his parents’ marriage was in tatters. His father’s workaholic tendencies had finally driven them apart now that Lizzie had also moved out for good.

With his actuarial consultancy set up, a house mortgaged and a puppy bought, Doug’s life is looking pretty good. He is satisfied with where he’s at and is now looking to expand his enterprises by training new staff under himself. With his own life in order, though, he’s begun to feel lonelier, and top of his priority list is fully settling in to the town he has called home for seven years.

★ TRAITS ★

Positive Traits: Driven, Mature, Assertive

Negative Traits: Arrogant, Detached, Uptight

★ HEADCANONS ★ Headcanon 1 – Short of money while in university, Doug took up the role of relationship columnist and problem solver in a local paper. He wrote under an assumed name of Romana Boots and made some decent change off the little endeavour. However, he had to stop when he sent his sister some of his advice columns and she accidentally left them out for their parents to find. Since then, his father has held it over his head as his greatest embarrassment.

Headcanon 2 – He is one of the lightest drunks you will ever meet. As he hates being out of control, he chooses to almost never drink and it means he really trusts you if he lets you see him like that.

Headcanon 3 – His most prized possession is an old toy dolphin one of the women who came into his mother’s shop gave him. They had been to her wedding and six-year-old Doug made such an impression, she bought him a little gift when she went to say thank you days later.

[bluephoenixdruidicprincess]

Hey, just wanted to say first that your reviews are still awesome and I'm glad you put some humor into them. Now my questions for this week, I remember in one episode where Josie felt Lizzie's pain and knew she was in trouble. But during their sweet 16, Lizzie didn't know that Josie was in trouble. Do you think this is the writers saying Lizzie is a bad sister or was it a point they forgot about? Also, what do you think about the possible friendship between Hope and Lizzie?

Once again, thank you! I’m so glad you’re enjoying them. Thank you for enjoying my humor as well, I’m not super confident in my sense of humor, so it does warm my heart to know that people do enjoy the humor I interject in these reviews. And I do try to put in as much humor as I can, if I didn’t laugh at this show, I’m pretty sure I’d end up crying on account of the show being so terrible. I really do wish this show was funny intentionally, though. The plot sucks, most of the characters are carboard cut-outs, the least the show can do is make me laugh genuinely, you know? If it managed to do that, I might’ve been able to cut it a little more slack and while still calling the show absolute trash, I could at least also call it funny trash that I don’t mind watching. But sadly, the only thing JP has for humor are really cringey pop culture references.

Alright, with these writers’ track record, it could legitimately be either or. Plot holes and inconsistencies are nothing new when it comes to TVD universe. It could very well mean that the writers forgot about it and really will only use the “twin link” when it suits the narrative. But also, the writers have also been pretty consistent with trying to paint Lizzie as the “bad” sister and Josie the “good” sister. They really have not been super subtle about it.

But I do have somewhat of an idea on “twin links”. Twins run in my family. My aunts are identical twins and at a family reunion, I once asked them if it’s true if twins can feel the other when they’re in pain. And they told me it’s somewhat true. But it’s less about feeling each other’s pain and more so about having a sort of alarm bell going off in the back of your head. You know how sometimes you’re minding your own business but you’ll have that nagging thought in the back of your head telling you you forgot something but you can’t quite remember what it was? That’s how my aunts explained it. When the other is in pain, it’s this feeling they have in the back of their mind telling them something is wrong but they can’t quite determine what it is. Granted, as we are all individuals, it’s possible separate sets of twins experience this phenomena in different ways. Apart from how the writers may be interpreting the “twin link”, how I interpret the Salvatore-Forbes twins’ “twin link”, I think it’s a little different for both of them based on their personalities. I think Josie feels it more because of how dependent she is on Lizzie. She’s so dependent on Lizzie to the extent that so much of her own identity is attached to Lizzie. Lizzie is basically Josie’s center so if something’s off with Josie’s center, it’s going to resonate a lot with her, her very being is going to be thrown off-balance. And while Lizzie is certainly dependent on Josie as well, Lizzie has more of a sense of self that isn’t directly attached to Josie. So I do believe Lizzie feels the ‘twin link” as well, but more to the extent of what I described above with my aunts, it’s more of a feeling in the back of her head, she may feel that’s something’s off but she can’t quite place what it is. And since Lizzie, by her nature, is narcissistic and self-centered and she was at a party where she was basically the center of attention, she most likely just shook the feeling off. She was already being stimulated by all of these other things, she could’ve mistaken that feeling for anything. So me personally, I don’t think it’s because she’s a bad sister, we saw when she was trapped in that alternate universe, when she found out that her sister was dead in that universe, it destroyed her. Josie is also Lizzie’s center in a way, but it’s a little bit different. Josie is Lizzie’s center in the sense of her self-control. You can see in that same episode that whenever Lizzie felt like her bond with Josie was weakening, she was losing her ability to be in control of herself.

And being completely selfless for your siblings isn’t what necessarily makes you a “good” sibling. Me and my three brothers love each other but I’m sure we’d never want to sacrifice everything for each other. We’d never ask that of the others, either. We love each other and we want each other to be happy and just knowing that is all we need to feel like we’re “good” siblings. But how I interpret sibling relationships is very different from how these writers are interpreting sibling relationships. They may not be subtle about what they’re trying to do but I’ll be subtle on their behalf and add these little nuances to the characters since they’re so inept at it.

Honestly, I’m way more interested in a Hope and Lizzie friendship than I am in a Josie and Hope friendship. From what little we’ve seen, Josie and Hope just don’t have a whole lot of personality to the friendship but in the short snippet we got in the mummy episode, I saw sparks for a really interesting friendship between Lizzie and Hope. Even though I don’t necessarily like how Hope is all doom and gloom all the time, I do feel like Lizzie and Hope can benefit each other greatly. Their darknesses they hold within themselves are obviously very different and as I pointed out in that review, they really shouldn’t be compared to each other but I do believe they can help each other with that. Lizzie can help Hope with her sense of belonging. Lizzie does have a confidence about her that could enable Hope to learn how to involve herself more with the day-to-day activities of the real world, thus finally giving her a sense of belonging and inclusion and Hope might be someone who can help Lizzie in dealing with her darkness. One of the biggest issues Lizzie has is that she doesn’t really have anyone who understands what it’s like to not feel like they’re in complete control of their feelings and thus their magic, and I feel like Hope can be the person that can give her that understanding and also be the one to call Lizzie out on her destructive tendencies in a more constructive way than what we’ve gotten with Penelope. Hope can give Lizzie that understanding and help Lizzie to be better and Lizzie can also give Hope the same. Basically, they have the ability to understand each other in ways no one else at the school really can.

Thanks for the ask! Hopefully I made sense somewhere amidst all this rambling. And hopefully you continue to enjoy my commentary on Lega-Trash!

[antihero-writings]

His Butler, and the Problem with Magic, Chapter 1—Black Butler/Harry Potter Crossover for the Multi Fandom Valentine’s Exchange 2018 (Full fic–LONG post incoming)

Fic Title: His Butler, and the Problem with Magic 

Fic Synopsis: Life at Hogwarts isn’t all bad…usually. But when Valentine’s Day rolls around, and Lockhart throws an extravagant ball, the number of couples at school the next day skyrockets, and Sebastian has found himself a new object of devotion…Can Ciel save his butler from the spell on his own?

Character Focus:  Ciel 

Notes:

Ah, remember when I created that event for Valentines day? Good times, huh? Well here I am, the creator of the event, finally posting…aaand it’s almost July. 

Dear @elegantkittycat needless to say I’m SOOOO sorry I took SOOOO long to finish this. I am ultimately super glad I participated, as this was a great fic and experience for me, but I really should have realized, with all the stuff going on in my life during March I wouldn’t have much time, and that I should have just manned the event, not participated. Ah well, live and learn I guess. 

To that end, (I messaged you about this many months ago), there came a point where it was already super long, I had no idea how to continue/finish, a lot to edit, and finishing the entire fic was not worth tearing my life apart for, so I decided to find a place to stop (hehe…I apologize that the place I found is cliffhanger-y), and get to editing (…I really don’t know why it took me THAT long to edit…My apologies, once again). This means that the fic is, unfortunately, not complete. I would, of course, love to finish at some point, but I’ve come to recognize I’m not very good at finishing WIPs, so I’m not going to promise anything. Even so, I hope you still enjoy what I was able to write, and it isn’t too big of a letdown that it is currently incomplete! Like any writer, the more I hear that people liked it, and want to hear how it ends, the more chance there is I will get motivated to finish it!!

As far as the subject matter itself, I know most of your prompts were romantic, so I apologize that this fic almost ended being anti-romantic XD But the reason that I decided what I decided to write for you is because you were also the only person who said they thoroughly enjoyed crossovers and gave the most crossover prompts. I absolutely love writing crossovers and, seeing how we also had a ton of fandoms in common in general, I thought we might be a good match. And, as you can see, that Black Butler/Harry Potter idea definitely sparked my creativity! (Plus I was just re-reading Chamber of Secrets!) 

I actually usually write fusion-style crossovers (where you put the characters of one fandom into the universe of another) so it ended up being super fun to write a normal crossover! I’m starting to wonder why I don’t do it more often, the different characters interacting provided some great comedic opportunities! And these two fandoms worked surprisingly well together—(I mean, I think I’ve even heard the Weston arc of Black Butler was inspired by Harry Potter, so it makes sense) I’ve also been trying to learn how to write comedy, so, even though it made things more challenging for me, I was glad to have a comedic prompt to work with! (That is also why this took extra long). I’ve also never written a crack fic before—(I don’t know that this is a full-on crack fic, but I think there are some elements there)—so please go easy on me!! There may be some cringe/chessy-ness. But you said the crazier the better, so I hope this is wacky enough! XD Thanks for the wonderful prompts and ideas!!!A couple of notes about the fic itself:

1. I’ve seen people using lots of different pronouns for Grell, I decided to go with “he” because the fic is in Ciel’s perspective and that’s what Ciel calls Grell. 

2. I know in the dub Grell calls Sebastian “Bassy.” However, in the Japanese, the play of “Sebastian” to “Sebas-chan” is one of my favorite things in the series, and is just about the most genius use of the -chan honorific I’ve ever heard, and there was no way I wasn’t using it, even if everything else is English-ified XD. (For anyone who doesn’t know the -chan honorific is kind of a cutsey, affectionate, familiar way of referring to someone in japanese, usually a girl). 

3. I couldn’t decide what Hogwarts house to put Ciel in, so I left it ambiguous—I know the obvious choice is Slytherin, but he also has some Ravenclaw tendencies (and if the Weston houses are indeed inspired by the Hogwarts houses, the one Ciel’s in sounds like Ravenclaw). I hope you enjoy it!!! It’s been a long time coming!!!

Chapter 1:

The great hall, quite frankly, looked like Valentine’s day threw up on it. Those lurid pink flowers from lunch still lined the walls, but now bright streamers glided across the ceiling, big, shiny hearts fluttered in the air, reflecting mood lighting, and bubble hearts popped out of bouquets of roses, (each flower cut into hearts). The ceiling itself not only continued to drop confetti, but was blighted by puffy clouds that read the same banalities you could find in every Sweethearts box; Be Mine, and True Love, and XOXO. (The clouds may have actually read that outside too, but Ciel didn’t want to check.) The burly cupids from earlier in the week lumbered about the room, continuing to pelt people with off-key music, and cards that only the most hopeless and idiotic of romantics would provide, filled with the same empty statements the clouds read—(every once and a while a howler burst forth, and the actual band would come to a shrieking halt at “YOU’RE REALLY CUTE”).

Lockhart had insisted a Valentine’s day ball was in order—(a lurid end to a lurid day)—and remarked with a toss of his his perfect hair and a blinding smile that it would be ‘just the thing’ to brighten everyone’s moods.

The fact that Lizzie had been the first (of many, mind you) to offer her decorative expertise and assistance may or may not have contributed to the overall… valentines-day-puked- and-so-will-I vibe of the room.

Currently, said mission to lift the general spirit was failing; aside from the few school lovebirds, (who were already widely despised and avoided, without school-sanctioned and overly sugary displays of affection) most people took this as the perfect opportunity for your daily dose of sulking at the sidelines, and contemplating if magic was quite worth this amount of suffering. Not least of all Ciel, who was currently propped against the wall behind the food table. (Lizzie had pried him away from his brooding earlier to dance, but now he happily returned to the indent he’d made in the wall). He had made many attempts throughout the evening to sneak a piece of chocolate cake, but Sebastian always magically appeared to slap his hands away whenever he got too close.

Most people would have stayed in their dorms, given the chance. Lockhart, however, had sent everyone cards with his kissy face on them, telling them flirtatiously not to dawdle, and his commands got more sugary, and insistent, (not to mention awkward) the longer they stayed indoors, and floated over their heads until they dragged their butts to the ball. This was particularly affective at making sure everyone was there, because the girls melted for his voice, and the boys wanted to shut him up as soon as possible.

“Isn’t this wonderful, Ciel!” A certain Indian prince put his arm around the earl’s neck and noogied him.

“Wha—No!” Ciel struggled like a fish out of water. Upon release he wiped his hands on his dress robes (the robes Sebastian had thrown together for the event—his ‘thrown together,’ of course, looked like others ‘spent-months-laboring-over-this’)—as if he didn’t want to catch Soma’s contagious happiness. “And I’d thank you to not touch me so casually!”

“I’m sorry Ciel, it’s just seeing all this love in the air makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside!” he spun around, “Doesn’t it do the same for you?”

“That’s called acid reflux.”

Soma pouted.

“Ciieel!” Lizzie’s hug was a torpedo. She snared his hands and spun him around, “Come dance with me!”

“Ack…I just danced with you ten minutes ago! How many times do I have to dance with you before you’re satisfied?!”

“Don’t you want your fiancé to be happy?” Her green eyes, (which were already big), became the puppy dog eyes of a little girl who wants an expensive toy.

“Don’t you?” he grumbled.

“I’ll dance with you, Elizabeth!” Soma came to the rescue. “It would be an honor to dance with such a lovely young lady!”

She blushed—“Oh please! It would be more than an honor to dance with a Prince!”—and curtsied, shooting Ciel an icy look, before joining the dance.

The young earl folded his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes.

As if that wasn’t enough sappiness for a lifetime, cloying words floated to his ears:

“Oh Professor Michaelis~!”

Ciel’s brow twitched.

“Come now Lavender, that wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“Ahh, he’s so noble!” came a not-so-whispered consensus.

Ciel jerked his head to see the group of girls crowding around his butler, like birds to sunflower seeds in the park.

Rather than sharing his annoyance, and refusing their advances, Sebastian shimmered with flattery and flirtation. A few of them offered him boxes of chocolates and other sweets, which he took with flowery compliments, but surely had no intention of eating—it didn’t take a love expert to know they were all laced with love potions. (Or maybe he could eat them anyways; the jury was still out if love potions had any affect on the demon…some magical methods worked on him and others didn’t).

Ciel’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, “Don’t you have better things to do?!” he shouted over the throng.

Sebastian chuckled. “Mr. Phantomhive, don’t you know it’s rude to question a teacher?”

Ciel growled.

“These lovely ladies took time out of their day to offer me gifts,” the butler’s calm voice carried across the room. “It would be rude to refuse them.”

There was a syrupy sigh from the group.

“Ugh,” Ciel gave the opposite kind of sigh, and turned away before he gave into the urge to murder.

A familiar laugh at his side made him turn.

“What’s so funny?” he asked the Undertaker.

“Oh nothing much,” Undertaker forwent his usual dog biscuits for a piece of cake, “I just find your sour mood rather humorous.”

“You know me, I’m always in a sour mood.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he said, his mouth full of cake, “but,” he swallowed, “it seems the atmosphere of love and joy has put you in a particularly foul state of mind,” he pointed a black nail at him.

“I just don’t find romance being thrown in my face to make for a very fun evening, that’s all. One of Lizzie’s cutsey rampages is enough for me…but this?” he shuddered.

“Well, some would say it’s sweet. That it makes them feel happy and romantic.”

“When I rise to power, those people will be sterilized.”*

He laughed. “Always the life of the party, you are.”

“What? Are you one of those people?”

“I wouldn’t say so. But seeing you in such a state is worth all the romance any day.”

“Glad I could be of service,” he grunted.

Undertaker set down his plate and twirled in front of him, then leaned forward and spoke behind his hand, “What do you say we make this party…a party?” he reached into one of his drapey sleeves and pulled out a vial, teasing it in front of his face.

A quizzical look from Ciel made Undertaker whistle in the direction of the nearby punchbowl.

Ciel sighed and rubbed his temple. “Spiking the punch…really? Isn’t that a little too cliché, even for you?”

“I prefer the term ‘failsafes.’ Even you have to admit, the atmosphere could use a little...” he glanced around the room, “spiking. Besides,” he leaned in close and whispered, “this isn’t alcohol, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“…What is it then?” Ciel moaned, eyeing the ex-reaper.

He stood back up to his full height. “I’m not one to spoil the punchline before I tell the joke.”

The young earl sighed, “You really think we should deprive people of their misery? I’m not one to interrupt some good, old-fashioned sulking.”

“The general idea is that those who are miserable would like to…not be.”

“They also say that misery loves company. Misery and I, for instance, have quite the close relationship.”

As if called by them saying ‘misery’ too many times, Lockhart’s pretty face showed up.

Ciel coughed to cover his distaste.

“Ah Undertaker! Good to see you here! Everyone’s loving the party aren’t they?”—He gestured to the glowering room—“It’s so wonderful to see all these young people in love!” he gave a throaty chuckle.

“Well, I wouldn’t say everyone.” Undertaker had a way with honesty.

“What makes you say that? Did someone tell you they weren’t enjoying it? We can’t have that!”

“It’s not so much anyone specific, but—”

“…What’s that you have?” his eyes fell on the vial that Undertaker had barely tried to conceal. Despite Ciel’s theory that Lockhart was dumber than a bag of rocks (even if the rocks were magic), it didn’t take long for the truth to dawn on him, “Spiking the punch are we?” He held up an accusatory finger, “Naughty naughty. I would have expected this from one of the students, but shouldn’t a man of your stature know better?”

“What stature?” Ciel snorted.

“What’s that, Dear Boy?” Lockhart leaned forward.

Undertaker put his hand on Ciel’s head, covering his vision with his sleeve. “The young Er—student was just about to say that a man of my stature is not one to shy away from a little fun.” he put his other hand on Ciel’s shoulder, his grip a little too tight.

“I hardly think it’s ‘a little fun.’ We don’t want any students getting hurt, nor do we the party ruined, now do we? All it takes is one slip of the foot and someone ends up in the hospital.” He held out his hand, expecting him to hand over the vial.

“On second thought, do it,” Ciel whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be the kid who winds up in the hospital. Anything to get me out of this hellish party.”

“What are we up to?” Dumbledore joined the conversation. It appeared as though Lizzie had got to even the headmaster, as he had bows in his beard and hair, though he didn’t seem to mind much.

“I regret to inform you that our dear Undertaker has intents to spike the punch.” Lockhart said like he was a student tattling.

“Ah,” the headmaster said casually, popping a heart candy in his mouth and burping out a heart, “(Pardon me). Well you can’t blame him for trying to bring a little…sprucing up, to the room, can you?” he lifted his hands and smiled genially.

“Are you saying that my party is not of the highest caliber?”

“Oh we aren’t denying that you have an air for the grandiose, Gilderoy,” he began cutting the cake with his wand; “Mr. Phantomhive, would you like some cake?”

Ciel glanced at Sebastian, who was currently preoccupied, and tried not to smirk. “I’d love some, thanks.”

Dumbledore cut him a huge slice, handing it to him gracefully, as if he were dropping a tiny lemon sherbet into his palm instead of a mountain of chocolate. Ciel inclined his head in gratitude, (and made sure to eat a big bite when Sebastian was looking, and the incense on his face was worth it—he, of course, couldn’t do anything butler-like with the headmaster and another teacher standing there).

“Don’t beat around the bush Albus!” Lockhart cut back in, “What is it you’re trying to say?”

“No one denies your party-throwing skills, dear Professor Lockhart.” He stood, placing his hands behind his back, “But your em…” he cleared his throat, “other skills can sometimes be rather lacking…”

“I’m shocked, and hurt, Dumbledore.” He put his hand over his heart. “Shocked and hurt. I’ll have you know that I won ‘best party-thrower’ in three”—he held up three shaky fingers—“countries! I think that should more than make up for any spoiled brats who can’t see fun even if it’s standing in front of their face!”

“Was he talking about me?” Ciel murmured to Undertaker, without a hint of hurt in his voice, “I feel like he was talking about me.”

“And what countries were those?”

As they argued, Dumbledore inclined his head towards the punch bowl.

It was Ciel’s turn to be shocked. Everyone knew their headmaster was rather eccentric, but he didn’t take him to be so reckless. He’d expect this from Undertaker… but Dumbledore? He thought he had at least a little ‘responsible-grown-up’ in him (even though Undertaker was definitely a lost cause).

Ciel turned to stop the ex-reaper, but now a dotted outline remained where Undertaker previously had been, and a second later he saw a long-nailed hand appear above the punch bowl.

Ciel facepalmed.

Any desire he had to drink said punch, as well as be at this party at all, had gone into the negatives.

But, eh, at least he had cake now. So maybe it wasn’t all bad.

“Young Master!” Sebastian snatched the plate from his hand, “How many times have I told you—!”

“Oh, so now you can walk away from the girls?” Ciel spun to his butler, whose arms were full of assorted treats. (Ciel, of course, knew he’d probably have walked away sooner if it weren’t for Lockhart and Dumbledore).

He tapped his foot on the ground (which somehow didn’t imbalance the tower of sweets), “I won’t allow it. You’ll get a tummyache.”

“I’m not a child!”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at his whining. “That may be…but regardless, you have a delicate composition.” He leaned over and set Ciel’s unfinished plate in the ‘dirty’ pile. “Sweets of this size will certainly impair your gastrointestinal health.”

Ciel looked from side to side, hoping no one was listening, feeling his face grow hot. “Delicate!”

“Would you prefer a different term? Fragile? Frail?”

“I’m not a vase!”

“Tender?”

“I’m not a steak!”

Sebastian looked over his professor-glasses at him as if to say Do you think you’re talking to someone else?

Ciel groaned, giving his butler the victory.

Sebastian set his armful of gifts in a pile along the wall. Clapping his hands clean and wiping his brow.

“What, are you tired?” he mocked, knowing full well the demon couldn’t get tired. “Is having a bunch of high-school-girls fawn over you exhausting?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Sebastian joked back, feigning thought.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of—”

A mischievous idea curled itself around his brain.

“You must be thirsty,” he said in a mockingly-concerned voice, trying to lean sideways on the table by the punch (but he almost fell over, and had to catch himself).

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t really require hydration like you humans do.”

Ciel gave him a look as if to say No, go ahead, I won’t mind. You really do look exhausted.

“But I suppose it couldn’t hurt….If you insist.”

“Oh I do.” He smirked as he watched Sebastian pour himself a cup.

More likely than not it wouldn’t have any affect on the demon, but, presented with the potential, he wasn’t going to deny himself a few hours to imagine what it might be like if it did.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Young Master?” he asked before raising the cup to his lips.

“Oh…I’m just enjoying the party.”

That didn’t clear things up. Sebastian’s brow furrowed, but, after taking a sip, he didn’t have time to ask because—

“The party has arri-ved~!” a certain familiar voice sang.

Ciel was starting to wonder if this was God finally deciding to punish him. Both master and butler felt like they were going to be violently ill, and simultaneously had a thought something akin to that’s my cue to leave! Before they could even make the first step, however—

“Ahh Sebas-chan!”

They winced, turning slowly to see Grell waving a princess wave at the butler over the crowd, while Ronald followed suit, nodding and blowing kisses towards the girls.

“All this love in the air,” Grell materialized beside them (they jumped a little), and crossed his hands over his heart, staring blinkily into the ceiling, “Kinda gets you thinking, doesn’t it.” He sidled up beside the demon.

“If you mean thinking about ending your life, indeed, it does.” Sebastian showed him no mercy.

“Playing hard to get, are we? Ah! How saucy!” he slapped his shoulder playfully,

Sebastian sighed, folding his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the nagging presence.

“Ciel! Ciel! Are you going to introduce me to your friends?!” Lizzie and Soma arrived at his side, as if hopeless romantics were coming out of the woodwork.

“They’re most certainly not my friends.” He cleared his throat.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Old Chap?” Ronald asked, “We may not be close, but I thought all those times we tried to kill each other meant something.”

Lizzie stared at Ronald, inching slowly away.

“Oh that’s just…a joke we have,” Ciel defended weakly.

“Oh…” Lizzie looked away, then recovered quickly, “Well, anyhow, you didn’t tell me Prince Soma was such a lovely dancer!”

“How was I supposed to know?” he grunted, “I’ve never danced with him!”

“Don’t be so rude, Ciel!” Soma defended her, “Please, you were like a—what are those dancers called? That’s right, a ballerina! —You were like ballerina, Miss Lizzie.”

“Don’t be so modest! Ciel, should take a page out of your book!”

“What page?” Ciel demanded, “The one on being a spoiled brat?”

“Sounds like someone’s already read that one,” She punched his shoulder. Her attitude changed in a second again, “I’m so thirsty!” She reached for the punch ladle.

“Wait—NO!” Ciel grabbed her wrist.

She blinked. “What are you doing?”

“I—uh” his face was a thermometer slowly going into the red, “I just umm…You don’t want to drink that.”

“I don’t?”

“No…yeah…it uh, tastes like uhh… cat pee,” he started to pull her away.

“How would you know what cat pee tastes like?” Ronald’s butted in.

“Maybe a cat peed in my mouth one time, you don’t know my life!”

“I’m having a hard time believing a nobleman such as yourself—”

“I just don’t think she should drink it, that’s all! Is that so inconceivable?!”

“Sorry! Sorry! Sheesh,” he shook his head, “you Nobles are pieces of work!”

Ciel rolled his eyes, turning back to Lizzie. “Why don’t you go back to your dorm?”

“But… I don’t want to go back to my dorm.” Lizzie pouted, “I’m having fun! …Or at least I was,” she murmured.

“…Look I’m sorry. I’ll-I’ll dance another number with you, okay?”

As they walked out onto the floor, he watched the other students drink the unassuming punch over his shoulder.

At the risk of sounding even more cliché; the day started like any other. Ciel got up before the other boys in his dorm to a chilly February morning, and started his routine—an aspect of which was speaking to Sebastian about today’s mission and objectives before classes began. Chamber of Secrets, and the heir, figuring out who they were, and how to dispose of, or join them, accordingly, with little to no leads. With his day robes on, and homework and books in hand, he slipped out into the hall.

He’d soon wish he stayed in bed.

Once the common room door closed, his day-from-hell would begin.

For a magic school, not much happened day-to-day. Well, that wasn’t true, Harry Potter added some…pizzazz. But it was still a school, and once you get used to the magic…normal-school-things happen.

Today was one of those days which reminded him that this was not a normal school.

Sure it was the day after Valentines Day, but did those Huffpuffs have to kiss in the hallways?

And guess what? You there, standing in the hall, blocking everyone’s way? Yeah, you. There is a perfectly nice wall behind you, just waiting to be leaned against (ignore the judgmental painting in the background).

And why did anyone who wasn’t in the throws of *shudders* youthful passion have this glazed look in their eyes, like they’d eaten pot brownies for breakfast?

Most of the time, the few students who were awake at this hour chatted and giggled, inflicting the general populace with the daily gossip, at which, sure, he would still roll his eyes and groan, but it was at least better than kissing and clogging up the hallway (as well as each other’s mouths).

He was relieved to finally reach Sebastian in the The Defense Against the Dark arts classroom.

This was one thing that was no surprise, as he shared the teaching position of the class with Lockhart—(no easy task, as they were both divas who didn’t enjoy sharing spotlight, and one was totally incompetent, and the other was as overqualified a professional chef at a kids easy-bake bake off. But their even-keeled headmaster had to give them each equal time teaching. At the beginning of the year, after it was decided which classes would get which teacher, some students begged the heads of houses to reconsider putting them in Sebastian’s class. Sebastian, amicable and excessive as ever, decided to host extra classes after school to satisfy the disappointed students).

“Alright, shall we pick up where we left off?” Ciel marched towards Sebastian, throwing his books on the nearest desk.

However, unlike his usual, attentive I-solved-all-our-problems-overnight-here’s-the-solution self, the butler stared out the window…he didn’t even pay his master immediate attention.

Said master tapped his foot impatiently on the ground and snapped, “Oy, Sebastian!”

“Mm?” the demon faced him, slowly.

Again, there was that glazed look. Like he had been in a donut factory.

“Young Master, I… didn’t hear you come in.” His eyes darted around the room.

“You bloody well didn’t,” he continued to tap his foot, muttering, “Demon hearing my ass.”

When Sebastian didn’t use said demon hearing to reprimand him for swearing, he knew something was wrong. He stopped being aggravated for a second and looked a little closer.

There was a smudge on his glasses. His hair was sticking up in front of his forehead, and there was some cat hair on his robes (probably from a clowder he kept in his room).

He was…imperfect. His appearance, while still practically impeccable by human standards was sloppy by Sebastian’s. His attention, divided.

And that was reason to worry.

Ciel leaned over the desk and snapped in his face. “You can ogle photos on your own time!”

Sebastian looked at him, but every time he focused on him, as if magnetized, his eyes reeled back to a photograph on the desk.

“Do you think…do you think he could like me?” Sebastian said in a strangely uncertain voice that didn’t sound at all like him.

“Huh?”

He had never known Sebastian to be uncertain of, or fascinated by, anything, nor to pry his concentrations from the missions, especially not for something so trivial and/or emotional as photos.

Ciel walked around the desk to get a good look at it. He thought it might be Lockhart, as the room was crawling with his glimmering face. Instead, in a shattered case—(Ciel thought he might hurl)—the demon fixated on a picture of Grell.

The young earl vaguely remembered Grell giving it to him—mentioning passionately something about it being a way for him to be with him at all times, with hearts in his eyes. At the time, Sebastian had rolled his eyes, said, ‘is there a version of this when I can see you at no times?’ and tossed it into the drawer with enough disregard that the glass had shattered, and (now this is just speculation) hoped to never look at it again.

For what unholy (or holy, by demon standards…no, it definitely wasn’t holy) reason would Sebastian return to it now? And what’s worse, how could a picture of Grell possibly distract him from the task his master had placed before him?

Was it possible that all those pictures, cards, the cheesy lines, and sappy gestures, all the maudlin advances, had finally made it through to Sebastian?

Hell no. He’d watch the world burn before that happened.

Hang on a minute, let’s check.

Nope, still snow on the ground.

Okay, more plausibly, did he lose his mind?

Let’s tone it down a little; Maybe this was a—albeit not funny—joke?

“What are you on about?”

The demon picked up the picture. “Grell.” He rushed towards Ciel, putting the picture in front of his eyes—“Get that out of my face!”—“Do you think he’d ever want to be with someone like me?”

The earl began to laugh, a fake, loud laugh, then abruptly stopped.

“Very funny, Sebastian, you like Grell. Can we get back to work now?”

Sebastian grabbed a book off his table and Ciel had to duck to keep it from hitting his head.

“What are you on?!”

“I may be cleverly witty when the situation calls for it, but I am not joking, Young Master! And I’d thank you to treat my beloved one with respect!”

Ciel blanched, his eyes glued open, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. “You mean this,” he pointed to the situation at hand, the words soft and enunciated, a nervous laugh behind them, “This isn’t a joke?”

“No!” he cradled the picture, “I think Grell’s the most lovely person I ever met.”

He waited for the butler to burst into laughter.

…and he kept waiting.

He knew more than anyone, neither master nor butler pulled stunts of this caliber.

Ciel grabbed one of the scrolls on the wall and wacked his butler over the head with it.

“Quit playing around! We don’t have time for children’s games!”

“I don’t understand, Young Master,” he rubbed his head (as if that could possibly hurt the demon). “You aren’t insulting Master Grell, are you?”

“No, I’m insulting you, you twat!”

He swiped the picture from him (hurt flared in the butler’s eyes). “You see how the glass is shattered here?”

He placed his hand over his heart. “Who would do a thing like that to such a perfect face?”

“You, you bloody idiot! Don’t you remember?” he smacked his head with the paper again, making it crease, “When Grell gave you that you tossed it into the drawer and said you ‘wanted to see him at no times.’”

“Me?” he snatched the picture back, holding it tight to his chest. “No, I would never!” he said like Grell was the purest little ray of sunshine, and Ciel said he’d kicked a puppy yesterday.

“No, what you would never, is return said…” he cleared his throat and didn’t finish the sentence.

“I don’t understand, Young Master. Here I am, bearing my heart. Why must you squash it?”

His eye twitched. “To remind you you don’t have a heart!”

“I—”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” he slammed his hands on the desk, “There’s no way this can be real!” he slumped onto the desk and ran his hand through his hair, looking more deranged than the one who was actually delirious, “Why, in all that is—How—Why would you ever—?!”

“Be careful, Young Master, don’t let that anger fester; it’s bad for your health.”

And it dawned on him.

He slammed his palm into his forehead.

The punch at the party—it was so obvious. Undertaker had even told him it didn’t contain alcohol.

“Young Master, are you saying our love is not real? Are you insulting master Grell?” his voice became a sickening tone.

Ciel now fully understood the situation: Sebastian, having been given a love-potion—(turns out they did work on him…or, even if they didn’t, maybe Undertaker made some extra-potent, mutant variety)—and Grell being the first person he saw (or heard) after taking it, fully believed Grell to be his one-true-love.

And as he watched a shadow (much bigger and…than the demon’s human shape) spread across the floor, he realized he believed it enough to attack anyone who stood against said love. Even his master.

The young earl knocked into desks as he scrambled way, his outward attitude towards the situation performing a 180:

“Uh, no no! No, no, no! I believe you!” he grabbed his bag, “There’s nothing weird or horrifying about you being in love with Grell at all. I just was a little…mmmm surprised!” his voice went up an octave. He shoved a desk into the space between them, “That’s all?! I’ll…I’ll just be going, now! You uh…you go back to…what you were doing!” he gave him a thumbs up (something he’d never done in his life) as dashed out the door.

After getting some ways down the hall, he doubled over, breath sharp and fast, piercing his side, his thoughts whirring around.

He’d wanted to mess with Sebastian, but he, first of all, hadn’t thought it would work, and second of all, hadn’t meant to mess with him this much—especially not in a way that affected him. This wasn’t fun or funny, this was just…gross. And now he had to fix it, when, had he left the situation alone and not given Sebastian the punch in the first place, he’d have his demon butler to help him, and the predicament would probably be solved in less than a day.

Now when he saw the students making out, or walking around dazed, he understood the full ramifications of Undertaker’s little stunt.

Speaking of which…

He heightened his pace until he was rushing through the halls, speeding past dreamy eyes, and cuddly couples.

Everyone, everyone had been at that party. Not only had the whole school been at that party, the punch was one of the few things available for the sweaty and thirsty dancers to drink. Now instead of one night of suffering in a lovebird’s playground, the whole school could be set to pop music. And, like the villain in a fairy tale, it was his job to break apart the happy couples.

And his first order of business was to find the mastermind who put them together.

Undertaker performed many of the odd jobs around, and often made it a job to make things odd (but Ciel of course knew that his primary function was probably to make dead bodies disappear discreetly). He and Peeves were overly chummy, and their pranks could sometimes be unbearable…but neither had ever attempted something of this magnitude before.

He was close to Filch’s corridor—

When the bell rang.

In the pandemonium he had forgotten today was still a normal school day.

“Sebast—” he began, hoping for an easy way not to be late, but remembered that his butler was …otherwise occupied. He grit his teeth, clenched his fists, and hurtled towards the transfiguration classroom.

“Mister Phantomhive!” snapped a clipped voice as he swung open the door, gasping for breath. “I thank you not to be late! And while you’re at it, not to disrupt my class while in session!”

“Sorry—” he clutched at his side, “Professor— McGonagall.”

“Usually,” she ran her fingers along her wand, stretching out the word, “I would give you detention. However, as it seems you are not the only one…out of sorts this morning” she drummed her fingers on the podium, giving Ciel a moment to look around the room—There were always a few latecomers, especially during first period, but the number of empty chairs rivaled the number of students present—“I will let you off with a warning.”

“Thank you,” he coughed—“Professor.”—And slumped at his desk like an old sock.

Thankfully not everyone had been affected by the spiked punch. Certain kids in class had that far-off look in their eyes, and a few even kissed in class (they were definitely sent to detention, though, of course, nothing much mattered to them but their newfound love). There were also teachers who had starry looks, and instead of giving them genuine lessons, muttered trite words about love, like a broken radio that only plays emo songs. There were, however, others who acted just as confused, annoyed and shell-shocked as Ciel at the current predicament. Clearly they had either found something else to drink at the party, simply not drank anything, or escaped the festivities somehow.

McGonagall was clearly among the unaffected, and while he was grateful for a little normalcy, he might have traded her for someone a little more lenient, and liked to see how her disposition changed while under the affects of love.

Throughout the day, he told the few students who were still awake and alive to the world that someone had spiked the punch with a love potion the previous night. This seemed to give them relief that they weren’t going crazy, still, none of them had any idea what to do about it. Love potions weren’t exactly considered an important course in potions class, especially not with a teacher like Snape—(in fact, a certain Ravenclaw had asked how to make a love potion in class on Valentine’s Day, and later Ciel saw that Ravenclaw mysteriously lost ten points). Some worried for their friends, while others eyes lit with an impish glint at the realization that—as long as they didn’t insult their ‘true love’— they could do anything to mess with their friends.

He had to give Undertaker at least a little credit: that day was one of the most memorable in his entire time at Hogwarts:

During transfiguration, on multiple separate occasions, students, instead of transfiguring their hamsters into dominoes, transfigured them into rings, and flowers used to profess their love, or even propose to Professor McGonagall herself. She only looked down her nose, and demanded where this talent had been the entire semester, and wracked up a body count of detention-bound students.

In Herbology, while it was not nearly as exciting as others, Professor Sprout went on and on about how amazing Neville was—(whenever he passed him in the hallway that day) Neville looked like the red plants they were currently tending to. (He probably hadn’t had anyone else to talk to at the party).

If Divination wasn’t enough already, Trelawney made them look into their futures and see their potential for romance (…it was hard to tell if she was under the spell or not), and it was both worth noting, and a source of personal pride that she looked into Ciel’s and saw lots and lots of hate.

And best of all, during potions, which was his last class of the day, Snape looked like he was ready to kill someone…and got close when Lockhart burst in and proclaimed that he simply couldn’t take it anymore, that they were made for each other. (Out of all the the crazy, embarrassing things that happened that day, this was the one Ciel guessed would be the most difficult for either of them to live down).

Hilarious confessions aside, Ciel was relieved to find that the potions master was at least trying to counteract the curse himself, by having them make antidotes and anti-love potions, and drink them (allegedly, lots of students refused to drink them in earlier classes, so he had to forgo their Latin name and call them “Happy Sunshine Potions,” which was quite possibly the best string of words he’d ever heard Snape say, and the unaffected students looked like chipmunks holding in their laughter in when hearing it). Although this was another teacher Ciel would have liked to see under the affects, he was guessing the net worth of breaking the curse would be far greater.

However, as far as he could tell, currently, Snape’s attempts to douse the proverbial fire were ineffective. (Yet another reason to think Undertaker’s love potion was some mutant version).

At each break he had, Ciel attempted to find Undertaker—(Except at lunch, when everyone was screaming that Draco was running around, and in increasingly boisterous and/or risqué methods, trying to declare his love for Ron Weasley. While Harry and Ron were also running around, either avoiding him at all costs, or messing with him. It was, first of all, difficult to get around the crowd, and, second of all, not something to miss.)—But Undertaker had an ongoing disappearing act that had nothing to do with magic. The one thing Ciel knew, was that the old coot couldn’t have left; he’d want to see every glorious minute of the chaos he wrought, so Ciel wasn’t giving up on finding him.

After school, hungry, tired, and desperate (especially after a run-in with Peeves, through which he earned the ex-reaper’s location, but also a cluster of lipstick marks on his face) he finally found Undertaker back in the Divination Classroom (of course he just had to pick one of the tallest, most tiring towers to climb). The room was cold, and Trelawney was nowhere in sight.

The pretty, setting sky over the frosty roof outside didn’t provide an iota of solace.

Ciel rolled up his sleeves, his anger a newfound immunity to the cold, and, with fingers curled into fists, marched up to him.

“You.”

The Undertaker, resting against the windowsill, turned to the seething boy, grinned, and spoke as if this was no more than an ordinary meeting.

“My, Young Earl, looks like you’ve been getting busy.”

“Wh—?!” he remembered the marks on his face and rubbed them off on his sleeve as Undertaker cackled.

“You seem awfully upset about something,” Undertaker continued, “Don’t want to let it fester—as your butler would say.”

“You spiked the punch with a love potion.” The boy growled.

“Did I?” he put a finger on his chin as if thinking, “I can’t seem to recall.”

Ciel’s brow twitched. “You bloody well know you did, I watched you. Now tell me how to undo it.”

“How do undo it, you say? And why would we want to do a thing like that?”

“I am in no mood for your games.”

Undertaker shrugged. “‘Fraid I can’t help you then. You know the rules; no payment, no information.”

“The whole school is a joke! That’s your payment!”

He contemplated it. “Sure you wouldn’t like to give an old man a good chuckle?”

“I’m certain.”

He sighed. “I suppose you got me there. To tell you the truth, I hadn’t quite got to the whole undoing it part.” He twirled his hand in the air like the ringmaster in this show.

Ciel blinked, emotion flickering as he spluttered, “How can…? But you—? I—? What?!”

He laughed, and the Undertaker’s nonchalance and disregard made anger jumpstart his tongue.

“You made it, didn’t you?” he kept his voice low, and his hand on the wand in his pocket, marching forward, “You can at least tell me how you made it. Then maybe I can unmake it.”

Undertaker tapped his chin, as if knocking around the marbles in his skull, “Don’t much feel like it.”

“You don’t feel like it?! Listen here—!”

He no sooner pulled out his wand than it was in Undertaker’s hand. He hadn’t even noticed Undertaker draw his own wand.

Undertaker ruffled his hair as he walked by, dropping the boy’s wand back into his pocket, “Part of the fun is figuring it out for yourself, Young Earl. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?”

He headed down the stairs, leaving Ciel standing alone, angry breaths steaming up the chilly classroom.

When Ciel trudged back to his dorm, all the energy he had used to run around that day had given up the ghost. He barely noticed the smooching and starstruck kids in the hallways anymore, and didn’t have the energy to send even a derisive snort their way.

Sebastian was supposed to be the one running around trying to find answers. These menial tasks were beneath him. Hard work, and running around, looking for answers, was no suit for a fourteen-year-old boy to wear. Oh, Ciel would devise a particularly difficult and useless task for his butler to accomplish once he—or someone—finally broke the curse.

Caught up in thoughts of needless revenge, he ran into someone in the hallway, sending both their books to the floor.

“Sorry!” The boy called.

As they both crouched down to pick up their fallen items, Ciel looked up to see unruly black hair, crooked glasses, and lightning-struck forehead.

“Harry Potter.”

“Yeah…?”

“Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve formally met. I’m Ciel Phantomhive.” He held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry smiled, taking his hand.

“Likewise.”

They both returned to their task.

“It looks like you haven’t been…love-ified,” Harry noted.

“You seem to have your wits about you as well.”

“Lucky us…Draco wasn’t so lucky though,” he laughed. “I heard someone spiked the punch at Lockhart’s Valentine’s day ball.”

“I heard that too.”

“A perfect end to Lockhart’s ball huh?”

“Hehe…yeah…”

Ciel turned to the next book, about to hand it to Harry.

Here’s the thing, about dark magic.

It has this sort of…pull. The more you use it, the more sway it has on you.

A pure soul looks at a dark object and feels uneasy, but doesn’t know why.

Someone who has participated in the dark before, let it creep in and corrode the soul, is attuned to the darkness. Like a resonant frequency, a humming in the back of their mind, putting them on the same wavelength, (and if they listen too long, they might shatter). They may not always know what it is or does, and sometimes they wont recognize why something has this aura, but they will know that an object is not just that, in as much as darkness is not just the absence of the light.

Ciel Phantomhive was no ordinary student. While he may have learned from the teachers at Hogwarts, the reason he was here was at the request of the Queen, not for learning, and his most informative teacher, was Sebastian. Before they arrived at Hogwarts, Sebastian, going above and beyond as always, made sure he knew more spells than half the students in his year. More importantly, however, fear of the dark had long left them both. Knowing dark magic, they surmised, would put them ahead of their enemies (not to mention their friends), and could be a powerful trump card were the situation to call for it.

When Ciel looked at this diary everything slowed. Like in a movie, when you can hear your heartbeat, and the camera zooms in. From the moment he saw it he knew it would be both silly and dangerous to think it was merely a diary. One may pour their soul into the words dear diary, but the Something that lurked beneath it’s pages was far more than the heartfelt and trivial adages of teenage boys and girls. There was something living in those pages.

He knew it was alive. Unlike other dark artifacts, which gave off a hint, a whisper of more-than-I-seem, this was more than a whiff of untapped potential, or forbidden mystery; the resonant darkness, rather than a faint, inanimate hum, was a Horror singing old-fashioned lullabies to himself in the darkest corners of the pages.

Ciel was tired. Tired of running around, tired of searching for a cure, tired of doing all the work himself. He wanted an easy way out. That’s how he’d always been. People who like to take the long way ‘round don’t make contracts with demons.

So, in a moment of weakness…

…or a moment of strength

He slipped the diary into his own bag.

That night, despite being interested enough in the book to steal it, he hadn’t had any energy to begin figuring out what that darkness was, meant, or could do. Nor did he have any energy to spend on figuring out the antidote to the plague himself. In fact, he had had so little regard for either, that he ignored the dumb looks of his roommates, slipped the diary into the chest at the foot of his bed, flopped facedown on top of his covers (screaming into his pillows for good measure), and went to sleep.

The next morning wasn’t much better. He woke up with a splitting headache, the love-zombies were still up to their shenanigans—(he half hoped it would end in the morning)—and when he tentatively checked on Sebastian, the demon had traveled further down the Grell-obsessed rabbit hole than before.

When Ciel entered the teacher’s lounge (it had taken a moment to find him) the smell of flowers smacked him full in the face. Unlike some of the teachers present, Ciel was unimpressed, and quite honestly queasy, to see that he had moved on from admiring the picture of his affection, to creating his own; or rather than a picture, a bust made of flowers of none other than his…erm lady-love, Grell.

Just like Sebastian, he was attentive to detail; only the freshest of flowers for his beloved, and each component of Grell’s complexion was a different flower: the coat was made of red Amaryllis’, the vest, brown orchids, the shirt, white hydrangeas, the face was pale dahlias, the eyes were green carnations, and the hair was, of course, roses. He wondered if Sebastian went far to find all of them, though knowing him he probably ran to the finest flower shop in Paris at 1:00AM that morning for them and was back before anyone could wonder where he’d gone.

Yes, quite far gone. But not far enough to forget the ‘offense’ Ciel had caused to his new master the day before.

Or perhaps Ciel had caused him new offense by blurting out “What the devil is this?!” upon seeing his labor-of-love.

If it was good idea in general for the public not to talk to the young earl, today, it was an inescapable rule: if people didn’t give him a wide berth, they learned quickly he was not in the mood for human (or reaper, or demon) interaction.

Wasting his time before class on pointless attempts to slap the delusion out of his butler was idiotic. So he headed to the library to actually try and make some progress, and picked up a book on love potions—(Madam Pince was too busy writing love poems to scold kids like him for going into the restricted section. Knowing this was a rare opportunity, he grabbed several more books he’d had his eyes on while he was there.)—with the intent to read up on counter curses every spare minute he got, not excluding during certain classes overtaken by horny teachers.

More students were missing from classes today, and those who weren’t were either more randy than before, or losing patience and brain cells every second they were around those afflicted. The teachers who were still in possession of their faculties—namely McGonagall, Snape, Vector, and Flitwick, (Madam Pomfrey was too, but she wasn’t present)—made an announcement at lunch, in front of their dreamy-eyed headmaster, that they were trying their best to find a solution to the problem presently.

While it was comforting to hear they weren’t sitting on their asses, and it would save him a hell of a lot of trouble if they did solve it, he didn’t expect they’d figure it out anytime soon. If Snape couldn’t figure it out on his own, he wasn’t sure they would have much luck, even together. Even if he had had faith in them, he wouldn’t have stopped his own research. He and Sebastian always did it their way, this was personality, not practice—(he’d learned from a young age he couldn’t rely on anyone else)—and a setback, even one that kept his butler from his work, wasn’t going to stop him.

It was during a disappointing lunch that he saw a flash of red in the doorway to the great hall. At first he thought nothing of it—it was probably a banner some kid made to impress their one-true-love, or a bunch of heart-shaped balloons, or a leftover decoration—it didn’t matter, he was going to try his best to eat, and read, in peace.

Until the ‘banner’ came inside to steal his food.

When he finally realized who it was, he practically screamed;

“Grell!”

“That’s my name darling, don’t to wear it out,” he blew a kiss, sitting up on the table.

“Love potions, huh?” in his horror, Ciel hadn’t even noticed Ronald had stolen the book (as well as a sandwich).

“Ooh!” Grell called, leaning in closer, raising his eyebrows. “Is somebody looking to trick some poor soul into loving him?”

“No! No, in fact I’m trying to un-romance someone, thank you very much.” He stood.

“That shouldn’t be too hard…for you.”

Ciel rolled his eyes.

“So, not that crushing the dreams of others isn’t in your repertoire, why do you want to do that?”

“It may be difficulty for you to understand, but some of us don’t look for romance in every guy they meet,” he stole the book back from Ronald (who was starting to to look too interested for the young earl’s comfort.)

“Now that’s just rude,” Grell folded his arms over his chest and put his chin in his hand. “But, I’ll choose to ignore your impotence,” he turned, becoming more animated, “because you’re in charge of my Sebas-chan. Speaking of love,” he said the word like it was fine caramel, “where is my precious Sebas-chan?” he looked around, casting his eyes towards the blank spaces at staff table.

“He’s—”

Before the sentence could fall on his tongue, the words snagged on the mental image of Grell and Sebastian canoodling like schoolboys.

“NO!”

That caught their attention.

“I mean uh—” he coughed, “No…He’s uhh…I…”

He could barely think with these images making him sick to his stomach. He set down what was left of the lunch he was no longer hungry for, trying to shove his brain into the mode where it could formulate a cunning plan.

“Well? Spit it out, boy! We haven’t got all day! Some of us have plans. I, for one, have a hair appointment this afternoon,” he fluffed his crimson locks.

“You know what?” Ciel chose a more confrontational approach. “I don’t have to tell you where Sebastian is.”

“You don’t have to, darling, you should want to.”

“No. You know what? I don’t want to. And you know why I don’t want to?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

He had to think of something fast. Something clever. A good excuse.

“Why don’t you ever want to spend time with me?” he slammed the book on the table.

So much for that.

“Huh?” Grell, Ronald—(and Ciel’s own brain)—responded upon hearing the words.

“Yeah. You heard me.” It wasn’t the best plan—hell, it wasn’t even a good plan—but Ciel was committed at this point, and came up with a plot fiercely in his mind, “That’s right. It’s always ‘Sebastian this’, ‘Sebastian that’, but what about me?!”

“What about you, brat? You’ve never shown any interest in me. What happened to ‘we’re definitely not friends?’” he mocked his voice.

“….That’s what I say to my true friends.” They definitely weren’t convinced, so he added, “I’m only nice to my fake friends.” (Ronald lifted his head like a dog being told he was a good boy all along).

“Regardless if you’re telling the truth—which, I don’t believe you are—what makes you think I’ll give you the key to my heart now, after you threw away your chances? That’s no way to treat a lady!”

“I…I never had the chance to,” he looked away and hugged himself, trying to look pitiful, “what with you fawning over Sebas…chan,”—it made him sick to speak the nickname, but not as sick as he would feel if they found each other— “you never even pay me any mind.”

“What’s there to pay mind to?”

Ciel bit his tongue, and tried not to let that get to him, reminding himself everything could and would be far worse.

“Hey, hey!” Ronald stepped in the middle, noticing the rising tension of the scene, “There’s a simple solution after all; why don’t you and Mr. Sutcliff go for a walk today? That’s not too much to ask, right?” he turned to Grell, “You’ll still have time to see Sebas-chan before your appointment.”

“I suppose,” Grell bit his nails, ruining his manicure—which he quickly realized, and petted them as if to say ‘forgive me!’ “But I’d better get some quality time with my Sebas-chan!”

“Does that sound alright with you, Mr. Phantomhive?”

The thought of spending any amount of quality time with the reaper was repugnant. But not more repugnant than certain other thoughts and predictions his brain was happy to provide.

“Yes, that sounds just fine.”

“Then let’s get this overwith,” Grell stepped dramatically off the table, twirling his high-heeled shoes in the air.

Ciel’s thoughts exactly.

But there was something he had to do first.

“Erm, Ronald, would you mind doing something for me while we’re on our walk?”

Grell put his hands on his hips, suspicion and curiosity in his eyes.

“Uhh sure—I mean, that depends on what it is”

He pulled Ronald aside, towards the wall, out of earshot of the red-haired reaper.

“I just need to buy some time,” he whispered, “Will you please get Sebastian out of the teacher’s lounge for me.”

“Um…” he glanced between the two of them. “I suppose I could. May I ask why?”

“No you may not.” When Ronald seemed less than happy with this response, he added, “I can pay you back. Money, sandwiches…whatever you want.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” he grinned.

“Alright, Grell,” he cleared his throat, “it appears as though you and I will be going for a nice walk together.”

“‘Nice’ would be pushing it.” Grell muttered.

Ciel couldn’t agree more.

The scene reminded him too much of a Thomas Kinkade painting; the snow covered trees and grounds, the faint chirping of birds, the pitter of small animals in the snow, the patter of kids playing, as well as more than a few romantic escapades displayed for all the world to see—like everything else in this sugarcoated nightmare, it was so sweet and was sickening. Ciel spent great lengths trying to avoid the mystic hellscape that was ‘outside,’ and whenever he found himself forced into its grasp, he remembered why.

Well, he supposed it wouldn’t have been so bad…if it weren’t for the blithering idiot beside him.

“Yeesh… love really is in the air around Valentine’s day.” Grell commented in the direction of the kids kissing by the frozen river.

“Oh? I thought romance was…your thing.”

“When I’m involved! Not these ragamuffins slobbering all over each other,” he shuddered.

They spent a while in awkward silence, before Grell spoke, “So, what do I have to do to get you off my back, Brat?”

“Ohh just spend a little quality time with me,” Ciel sang, putting his hands behind his back and stepping in front of Grell like a mischievous schoolboy. “That isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

Grell looked away. “I better be Carlos’ last customer today; my hair’s going to be a mess by the end of this.”

Ciel laughed fakely.

“So…” Ciel tried to think of something to talk about, “tell me about Carlos. Is he…cute?”

“Oh come on!” Grell stomped in front of him, “You can’t possibly mean any of this! You’ve never shown any amount of interest in me. I may be prone to fantasy, but I’m no fool!” he crossed his arms and looked away, then his green eyes trailed to him suspiciously, “What are you plotting?”

“Plotting?” Ciel laughed again, “Why so sinister?”

“Oh things are always sinister when Sebas-chan is involved,” he said ‘sinister’ like a radio announcer telling you that sinister is what you want, “usually it sends tingles down my spine! But this is just…” he looked down at the earl, his lip curling in distaste, “freaky.”

Ciel tried to ignore the fact that they were on the same brainwave today.

But he could see that he wasn’t going to fool him for long if he didn’t do something.

“Well…” Instead of formulating a suitable answer, he subtly pulled his wand from his robe pocket sliding it behind his back, and cast a little nonverbal spell that sent a snowball hurtling at the back of Grell’s head.

“Hey!” Grell spun around to two kids playing on the bank. “Which one of you imbeciles did that?! Haven’t I suffered enough?” he held up a split end of his hair.

The kids glanced at each other, confused.

“Now Carlos will have to give me the extra treatment to cover this!” he took a strand of hair and petted it.

Ciel smirked.

Messing with the reaper seemed both more effective, and more enjoyable, than chatting, so whenever a risky topic came up, he had a little extra fun avoiding the subject (goodness knows he needed it)—until enough time had passed that, if Ronald had done his job, Sebastian would be out of the teachers’ lounge, and they headed back into the school.

“Sebastian’s right around the corner.”

“He better be, Brat, after the hell-walk you took me on.” Ciel tried not to laugh when he looked at Grell—the sticks in his frazzled hair, the smeared mascara and lipstick, the muddy clothes (he had eventually stopped trying to protect or fix his appearance).

Ciel gave the fake laugh again, opening the door.

Despite requests and expectations, Sebastian was right around the corner.

There the demon remained (apparently he had been there all day) with a finished bust of the reaper sparkling beside him, not to mention a few more, smaller art pieces of the Redhead in different poses of increasing erotica.

Ciel felt all the anger that had been briefly soothed by messing with Grell re-entering his body with ferocity.

Why hadn’t Ronald removed him from this place like he asked? All he asked for was one simple thing, and he couldn’t even do that. Well, maybe it was his own fault he had put his trust in someone so incompetent as Ronald. Whoever’s fault it was, this encounter, and the memory of it, might just stain his brain forever, and someone was surely going to pay for it.

He turned towards Grell (the real one). Both his eyes and mouth were open wide, focused on the statue of himself, leering down at him with a flirtatious grin.

When the butler emerged from behind it, and saw Grell, he too froze, but in the quiet, reverent way the hot dude does when they see their love in romantic movies.

Ciel wanted to grab one, or both, of them and wrench them away from each other—exorcise the romantic spirits out of them (it’s an odd day when you want to exorcise a demon out of a demon), and maybe wring their necks—but he knew that would be met with more than a little resistance, (and using the Imperius curse in the teacher’s lounge would be more than a little conspicuous), and there was something rather mesmerizing about the scene; like a horror movie you can’t bring yourself to look away from.

Sebastian closed his eyes, giving a small smile before rushing to grab a rather large bouquet (likely made of the leftover flowers) and bowed, presenting them to Grell.

“For you, my darling Mr. Sutcliff.”

Ciel covered his eyes with his hand.

“For…me?” Grell’s words were distant and confused.

Rather than taking them with honors—Ciel saw between his fingers—however, he took a step back.

Sebastian held them higher. “Only you.”

Grell glanced between master and butler, and his hands shook as he took them (then his arms sagged with the weight).

Ciel shut his eyes tight, waiting for hell.

Soon the scene would turn into the amorous novel Grell always dreamed of, and that would be it. They’d find love in each other…or what passed for love when it comes to love potions. Should Ciel leave now and spare his mind the eternal horror? Or should he wait and just make absolutely sure that’s what would happen? Maybe there was some sick part of him that was even curious what would happen.

His patience, however, was rewarded;

“Get away from me you freak!” Grell threw the flowers across the room, and rushed to hide behind Ciel. “What the hell have you done with my precious Sebas-chan?!”

This time it was Ciel’s mouth and eyes that dropped open, staring, dumbstruck, like a bird that had hit a window.

Grell had flirted with Sebastian from the moment he met him (to be fair, he did this with pretty much every attractive guy he came across, still…). There were times when master and butler could use this infatuation to their advantage, but most of the time it was just a gigantic nuisance. Luckily, Sebastian shared Ciel’s distaste for the reaper’s advances, and never returned them. Since it had seemed impossible, before today, Ciel hadn’t had much time to imagine what Grell would do if the butler returned his affection. Not one of the sickening scenarios his mind had provided today had Grell rejecting Sebastian. Grell had always appeared superficial enough that Ciel guessed he wouldn’t care how or why Sebastian returned his feelings, just that he did. The fact that he could tell this was not Sebastian’s normal self made Ciel think slightly higher of the reaper.

But only slightly.

Maybe it should have made sense; it was the flirtation; the game, that Grell enjoyed, more than true romance, and heart. He had said so himself—he was just as disgusted by the teen romances in the courtyard as Ciel. (Though, to be fair, most adults generally found teen romance to be gross).

He couldn’t help but feel a growing pride and satisfaction that he would not have to witness any romance, or worse. That the roles of disgust had now reversed, and Grell could walk a mile in their shoes. Not that he thought Grell would become a better, less annoying person after this.

“I…don’t understand,” Sebastian’s eyes were full of welling hurt. He stood, staring at the discarded bouquet (which had all but exploded on the wall), “I’ve done everything for you…” he gestured around the room, “I thought this is what you wanted.” He looked at Grell like a puppy who had been thrown from a warm and loving upper-class home, out into the streets of London. He pulled out the picture he had barely stopped staring at since the other day, “Remember?” he held it up, “You said you would always be with me.”

Grell seemed torn, almost like Sebastian’s puppy-like disappointment drew his pity, but he backed away further, (still holding on to Ciel, almost making him fall backwards).

“What is this?!” he pointed, “Some kind of sick prank?! I want my sexy, coy Sebastian, back! Not this coddling fool!”

Ciel had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. This was too rich.

Sebastian looked at the ground, sadness, anger, rejection flaring in his eyes. Ciel would have liked to stay and enjoy Grell’s blubbering a little more, but he could see a demon-sized tantrum coming a mile away.

He didn’t make it a practice to touch pests like Grell, but in this case, he didn’t have much choice; he grabbed Grell and pulled him out the door, dragging him down the hall.

“What the hell is going on?!” Grell ripped his hand from the boy’s grasp and blocked his way, “Who was that idiot?!”

Ciel could barely breathe from laughing.

Grell blinked at him, then anger flared in his eyes again. Before he could catch his breath, Grell grabbed the boy’s shoulders and shook him, “What have you done with my Sebas-chan, you little Punk?!”

This made him regain composure quickly. He brushed his hands away and explained, “You remember the Valentine’s ball Lockhart threw?”

“Of course. My Sebas-chan was looking particularly dashing that night,” he blinked dreamily, then his expression changed as he remembered he had just seen Sebastian, and he was not so dashing today as previously advertised. “What did you do to him?!”

“I didn’t do anything!” he half-lied, “Undertaker was the one who spiked the punch with a love potion.”

“Undertaker’s the cause of this?! He took my Sebas-chan from me?! Oh that sexy bastard hasn’t seen the last of me!” he started to march past the earl.

Ciel blocked Grell’s way. “I already talked to him. He didn’t have the antidote.”

“Well maybe he just needs a little roughing up!” he rolled up his sleeves and tried again to go around him.

“You really think a man who takes pleasure in ruining other people’s lives will help us fix this?” he said to his back.

Grell stopped, turned around, “Well you would know wouldn’t you?!” He looked away, biting his lip. “You put him back then!” he shoved his chest.

“Why do you think I was reading that book about love potions?!”

That quieted his rage slightly.

In that moment, a certain student walked by, though not one of Hogwarts. He was surrounded by a gaggle of girls, and didn’t even see them.

“Levicorpus!” Ciel shouted, and the girls’ gasped as Ronald was hoisted into the air by his ankle, his clothes hanging off him (showing off his stomach, and a bit of his underwear—the girls’ blushed and giggled).

“Whoa, whoa! What’s this—?! Oh…” the young reaper blinked upon seeing Ciel, recalling the task the earl had given him, and he rubbed the back of his head giving a mock-sheepish smile, “Hehe.”

Ciel tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. “Would you care to offer an explanation?”

Now that he knew Grell had no intentions or returning Sebastian’s artificial affection, the fact that Ronald hadn’t accomplished the task wasn’t nearly as big of a deal, but it could have easily been catastrophic, the anger was still there, and letting those who disobeyed him off the hook was a bad precedent.

“I’m sorry, Earl, but these girls…they just kept coming up to me! There something must be in the air today!” he held out his hands as if to say you really think I was going to turn them away?

Ciel rubbed his temple, muttering, “Nope it was in the punch.” He sighed, taking a step forward like a predator. “I’m going to let you off this time, but believe me, I won’t be making that mistake again.”

“Come on, it was an honest mistake!”

“And an honest—”

“Mister Phantomhive!” a deep voice rang out across the hallway.

Ciel winced.

“…Professor Snape.”

His footsteps were a judgment toll.

“Care to release Mister…?” he looked at Ronald quizzically, realizing he didn’t recognize him.

“Knox,” the reaper offered.

“Knox.”

“Yes, Sir.” Ciel murmured.

Liberacorpus he cast, nonverbally, and the reaper spun in the air until he was set upright again.

Strictly speaking, they weren’t allowed to do magic outside class, and the curse on the school evidently hadn’t made the potions master forgo any of the traditional rules.

“I’d like to know who you two are, and what you’re doing at Hogwarts.” Ciel felt a little smug thinking of the potential trouble they could get into….until Snape turned “As for you, Mr. Phantomhive…”

“Yes, Professor?” he said politely, as if his politeness could suddenly change his heart and get him a less-harsh punishment.

“Detention.”

“…Yes, Professor.”

Ciel glanced at Grell, who had crossed his arms and whose look said it’s-what-you-deserve.

“Well!” Grell broke the tension. “We can certainly explain who we are and what we are doing here…at a later date. As of now, I have an increasingly important appointment to get to—Good Professor, I’m so sorry you had to see me like this, I promise wont look this bad when when we next meet!” he bowed low, “Come along, Ronald!”

“Yes, Mr. Sutcliff!” He blew a kiss towards the girls.

“This isn’t over” Grell whispered in Ciel’s ear as he skipped by.

“Nothing ever is with you, is it?” he muttered.

“What’s that?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing, just excited for my detention!”

Snape raised an eyebrow, perhaps wondering if Ciel was under the spell after all.

Ciel didn’t even go to class that afternoon, as it was double Defense Against the Dark Arts. Once again he returned to his dorm, and flopped onto his bed. He had only made it halfway through the day this time, and he was already drained. After some time resting (though his mind raced too much to actually take a nap), he finished skimming through the book on love potions. In the end, the only help it gave was a comprehensive list of the usual ingredients in love potions.

As he was putting the book away a diary fell out of the trunk at the foot of his bed. In the fatigue of the evening, and the tumult of the day, he had forgotten about his run-in with Harry yesterday.

He picked it up; the same simple, dusty, empty notebook as before. When he opened it to the first page he saw the smudged name T. M. Riddle. He hadn’t thought it was Harry’s in the first place, but was still displeased that the name didn’t sound familiar to him. He wondered if he was a student who dabbled in dark magic. Still, the power it held seemed more than what a mere student could conjure…

Ciel had never been one for feelings and the kind of sentimentality a diary implied, but it couldn’t hurt to try it out. There wasn’t much else to do but write in it. Evidently it wasn’t just a diary.

Setting it down on his desk, he flipped it open to the first blank page, got out his quill, dipped it in the ink, and began to write:

“February 16th

“Two days ago, Undertaker spiked the punch at Lockhart’s god-awful Valentine’s ball with a love potion.

“Now Hogwarts is infested with a swarm of insolent, love-struck zombies, because Undertaker is a—”

As he wrote, the words, instead of staying in place like words should, they were swallowed by the paper. As the earl stared, the ink resurfaced like a serpent beneath water, a reply forming from secondhand ink.

“My, that does sound awful.”

The words disappeared as soon as they came, then reappeared…

“Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

*Yes this is a Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory) quote. I think I had just been watching that episode before writing, and when that came to mind for Ciel’s response, I couldn’t think of anything better XD I decided to keep it in, but I had to note it didn’t come from my own brain!

Once again, sorry for that ending XD

[james-baeder]

For the ship meme: ...Liz/Alan? c:

YES! THANK YOU

Who’s more dominant:Liz is. Alan is always a little bit intimidated by her job and how assertive she can be when she wants something. Granted, he’s just as stubborn and larger than life, but he folds so easily when Liz gives him the slightest bit of positive attention.Who’s the cuddler:Alan literally cannot sit next to Liz without touching her, and his colleagues never let him hear the end of it. He’s always got a hand on her thigh, or he’s kissing her cheek or her neck. He always makes sure they’re as wrapped up in each other as possible when they’re in bed, or on the couch. Snuggling with her is the high point of any day.Who’s the big spoon/little spoon:More often than not, Alan ends up being the little spoon. He likes wiggling back into her warmth, especially if he has to get up to pee in the middle of the night, or when she’s already in bed by the time he gets home after a long day.What’s their favorite non-sexual activity:Alan can talk to her for hours and hours about past cases that she���s allowed to expand on, and her expertise in psychology, and a book she recommended to him, and about her childhood with her dad. He likes to sit in her breakfast nook and look at her and listen to her, or cuddle up with her on the couch to listen to her heartbeat while she shares everything with him. Who uses all the hot water:Since Liz is late more often than not, she’s quite proficient at 5 minute showers, and even when she takes her time, it’s not likely to last for more than 10 minutes. Alan, however, has been living along for a long time, and is still not used to having to share the water with someone else. On the other hand, sometimes he does it on purpose so that she’ll join him in the shower (this happens A LOT). 

(more of these under the cut!)

Most trivial thing they fight over:Alan is an asshole - a lot. So they mostly fight about that. Alan stands by his behaviour for all of 2 hours and then he goes crawling back to her.Who does most of the cleaning:It’s a team effort for the most part - Alan will cook and Liz will wash the dishes. They rotate bathroom duty and dusting/vacuuming chores. Since Alan lives in a hotel, Liz has offered to do his washing so he goes over to help with that. It’s very efficient. Who has a season pass on their dvr/Who controls the Neflix queue:Alan is not much for TV, rather preferring to work or read (or fool around with Liz), so he generally keeps himself busy while she catches up on her shows (until he gets bored and well... Liz never complains)Who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working: Alan is completely fine with warming up with body heat, so Liz is usually the one to call. Who leaves their stuff around:Liz is so bad at this. Her clothes are flung on the bedroom floor, and tend to remain there until laundry day. They might get kicked into a corner. Without even realising it, Alan has cleared out a drawer for her, just so he can have a place to put the stuff she leaves behind. Who remembers to buy the milk:If Liz doesn’t remember, she sends Alan a text to remind him, and he always delivers (a lot of times he just steals a carton from work tbh). Who remembers anniversaries:Aw they’re both so sappy that they both do. Sometimes it’s only in the middle of the day though, when their thoughts have quieted, and they get a chance to breathe. What follows is a favour being called in at a fancy restaurant, and a lunch break spent shopping for something meaningful. They always spend the important days together though. Who cooks normally:Once Liz tried to cook for Alan and it all sort of ended up like that scene in Bridget Jones where Mark shows up to help but its a disaster anyway? So Alan doesn’t mind cooking, as long as she keeps him company, and refills their wine glasses.How often do they fight:For such stubborn, bull headed people, not as much as you’d think. When they do fight (usually because Alan was being the biggest asshole he could possibly be) it doesn’t last very long. He’s quite apologetic, and will try to smooth everything over as soon as possible. He likes her so much his heart honestly aches with the thought of her leaving him.What do they do when they’re away from each other:Miss each other lol. They text whenever they can and send pictures and it’s just... sappy as hell. Nicknames for each other:(as you well know, Auchen) Liz calls him Big Al (usually while patting his shoulder or his belly) and he counters by calling her Little Lizzy and slinging her over his shoulder whenever the impulse strikesWho is more likely to pay for dinner:Alan. He has more money than he knows how to spend so he gladly funds all their dates. He also reasons that he always chooses upscale places so he’s obligated to pay. Who steals the covers at night:When he’s not plastered to her side, Alan has a tendency to scrunch the covers up under his chin, so that Liz’s feet are left out in the cold. She’s grown skilled at knowing just how to tug to get it back from him though.What would they get each other for gifts:For Alan: Silly ties, and not so silly ties (green ones especially - to bring out his eyes), books and socks and trinkets for his desk (his favourite is a photo frame with a candid shot of them taken at a gala. Her one hand is on his shoulder and she’s laughing, the other hand pressed to her chest, while he looks at her as if she’s everything). For Liz: So much jewellery. Bracelets and necklaces and earrings and rings. Most of the time she can’t even wear them to work because she doesn’t want to risk it being a casualty of her job. He buys her books too, more fiction than what she gets him. Lingerie too. He loves getting her that. Who kissed who first:Alan kissed her. It was one of those desperate, sudden, I-couldn’t-wait-anymore-im-so-sorry kisses. Liz is very skeptical of her attraction to him, she knows it’s probably foolish to be falling for this amoral lawyer so she never works up the nerve, but once he does kiss her - hoo boy. She is screwed!Who made the first move:What qualified as the first move? Because if it’s kissing... see above. But also Alan actively pursues her soWho remembers things:Alan’s job requires him to remember all the things, but so does Liz’s so. Both of them.Who started the relationship:After the impromptu kiss, they had a very frank conversation about where they stand which ended with Alan asking her on a date, and her saying yes. And then she kissed him again. You decide.Who cusses more:Liz does, and Alan thinks her potty-mouthed outbursts are truly adorable.What would they do if the other one was hurt:Alan: Mother hen all up in this bitch. Tucking her in, kissing her forehead, giving her cuddles when she’s feeling especially bad. He insists on doing everything for her. Liz: Gets angry at first because WHAT HAS HE DONE NOW, but then she mellows out when he gives her a drugged out smile and says. “Lizzy! You’re heeeereeee.” and then she softens and does her best to take care of him Who is the dirty talker:Oh boy. We all Know Alan loves to dirty talk. It’s Alan.A head canon:At one stage in their relationship literally all Alan’s sweaters are at Liz’s apartment. She loves them so much, they’re so soft and they smell like him, and he’s only mildly ticked off when he opens his drawer one day to find zero sweaters.

[trainer-sean]

I JUST HAD A REALIZATION! What if the Grimm Brothers father was the original founder of Ever After high, after finding out that a world of storys existed, and the children of he characters were being impulsed to retell their parents stories unconsciously by the constant retelling of the storys in the human world.. he founded Ever After High in the attempt to at the very least attempt to change the storys to at least a happier ending for everyone, and at most, guide everyone to be able to live a completely new ending where they all have a happily ever after. That why the current versions are the light hearted modern versions and not the horrible and tragic Grimm versions. Milton said fuck that because of what happened with the ogres cave.

I’m not going to lie, but like, Cupid and Kitty have untapped potential to be one of the most chaotic duos Ever After High has ever seen.

I don’t quite remember if they ever interact in canon, or what their relationship is like if they interacted, but like, just think for a second.

Cupid is clearly against Headmaster Grimm and his whole agenda right, like, we all got that from True Hearts Day. Cupid believes that everyone should follow their heart regardless of destiny, while Headmaster Grimm is firmly against such ‘nonsense’ and believes that everyone should just shut up and follow whatever their destinies entail.

Then there’s Kitty, and her whole deal is causing chaos. She loves pranks and mischief, and generally just being a nuisance all over. Headmaster Grimm is someone who’s a stickler for the rules; of following things by the book (literally). I would like to wager that this both amuses and displeases Kitty, and she finds whatever way she can to make his life absolute hell while cultivating pure enjoyment for herself.

And that’s where they both come together. Because, bear in mind, Cupid’s destiny (if you could call it that I guess?) is to bring people together and help them fall in love. Kitty’s destiny as the Chesire Cat is to simply be as much of a hindrance to everyone that she can while partaking in several shenanigans.

Do you see where I’m going with this? 

Cupid and Kitty can cause so many problems together and when confronted, they can use the very viable excuse that they’re really just practicing for their destinies.

I would enjoy this friendship very much as it would lead to many moments of Headmaster Grimm almost having a stroke <3

We love Milton Grimm slander in this house.