#annabel ward's ring

[just-jessiejames]

Woah, I just realized why Annabel Ward's ring looked so damn familiar to me. My mother owned a ring like that, near identical, and I still have it. My mother's is sapphires, diamonds and gold though. I'm not entirely positive of what gemstone is in Annabel's ring. This is really cool though, I think. Perhaps the style was really popular. Still, it's neat that I own practically the same ring. For reference, this is Annabel Ward's Ring:

And this is my mother's ring:

They are kind of... Scarily close haha. Idk just thought this would be fun to share? Guess if I ever want to cosplay Annabel... Oooh or Lucy?

[witchy8464]

Let Go of Me - Anthony Lockwood x gn! reader

This is my first oneshot! Let me know if you have any feedback.

Summary: The reader takes the place of Lucy, and contacts Annabel Ward. They end up possessed, and bring up all sorts of emotions in Lockwood.

Lockwood & Co. isn’t the most prestigious agency. They lit a house on fire, investigated the death of an 80’s actress, jumped into the River Thames in the middle of the night, and had a certain disregard for the rules that tended to get them in trouble. But 35 Portland Row was your home, and would be for a long time coming. You possessed the talents of Touch and Sight, but while your Touch was exceptionally strong, your Sight was not, and you couldn’t see visitors all that well, so you spent more of your time doing research for missions, more of the logistical work. Having worked for Lockwood for almost as long as George, the three of you were a very tight knit group.

Lucy was a very welcome addition. You couldn’t keep up with Lockwood in the field, and George wasn’t exactly able to curb his self-destructive tendencies, so when Lucy proved to not only surpass Lockwood’s own abilities as well as provide him with a new found will to live, you could feel nothing but happiness for them, right?

The real problem lay in your heart, where concerning feelings had been bubbling for a while. Every night that George and Lockwood were on another case, you had been unable to sleep, petrified that it would be the last time you would see either of them. Lying awake, you would nervously think about what you would do if Anthony had died. You certainly cared deeply for George, but not quite the same as you did Anthony.

For the longest time, you had convinced yourself that you were more concerned for Lockwood because he was so self destructive, and while that was certainly part of the reason, you eventually couldn’t deny the fact that you were deeply and truly in love with Anthony John Lockwood.

__

Lockwood was apprehensive about waking you. You were a very polite person, and wouldn’t really mind, but he knew about your stress filled nights, staying awake until he and George showed up on the doorstep. 

On the other hand, he knew if he didn’t you would berate him in the morning for not letting you help. 

Lockwood snuck into the corner of the basement, rapier at his side, and gently shook you awake. He had originally tried to get you to take the room in the attic, but you had insisted on sleeping in a corner of the basement, claiming that it was cozier down there. 

You awoke groggily, emerging from your cocoon of blankets. 

“Annabel Ward’s ghost’s here.”

“...Shit.”

__

Every time you thought you had lost all sense of sanity you manage to find a scrap to lose. Now you were sitting in a chair, in the middle of the library, about to try and commune with Annabel Ward’s ghost. Whoop de doo. 

Lucy had wanted to do it, but you had insisted, knowing your Touch was much stronger and that she’d had a long day, and you didn’t want to stress her anymore. 

walks

Lockwood walked up to you, ring in hand, “If she takes any liberties, we’re right here, okay?” 

Gently lowering the ring into your hand, you raise your thumb to brush his, as if to say ‘it’s okay. I’ll be okay.’

As Lockwood steps back, fear brimming in his eyes, you close yours, wrapping your fingers around the ring. 

You feel a chill immediately rush over you body, quickly replaced with a kind of fuzzy warmth. You feel joyous, light-hearted, and… and like everything is perfect. 

“She’s… happy.” you say, feeling Annabel’s lover watching her. Is it admiration in his eyes? Is it love? “She… she loves him.”

You feel a swirl of adrenaline, dancing to a song. It’s an important song, their song. Annabel spins and spins, her skirt flowing around her legs. The sun shone through the window, lighting your face as he smiled. He… He loved you right? That was what he felt for Annabel? For you?

You stood up, your eyes still tightly shut, and took a step forward. And another. 

“She… she doesn’t know if he loves her.” And another. “I… I don’t think he does. She’s trying to convince herself.”

You feel the warmth creep a little too high. Slowly, slowly it feels oh so uncomfortable, beginning to feel fear, as he stands up. As your lover stands up. He’s saying something, calling you a liar. And another step. You’re begging him now, telling him to listen, that you didn’t do anything.

Your eyes fly open, inches away from Anthony.

“He’s angry,” you whisper, as if afraid you’ll set Annabel’s lover off. “She’s… She’s so afraid.”

Some kind of switch flips, and now you’re smiling at Anthony, but it’s a pained smile, he can tell. Your hand reaches out to cup his cheek, and the touch burns Anthony’s skin. His hand comes up to grasp your wrist, but he can’t bring himself to pull you away.

“It’s all right,” you reassure him, looking at him with such love in your eyes. “He loves me. You love me, don’t you?”

Your face is pleading, begging him to tell you ‘yes, yes I love you’ but in his heart, Anthony knows this is not you. But when you look at him like that… How long has it been since someone held him gently? Since someone loved him? Is it okay for him to love someone like this again? What if… what if you see him for who he is? What if you hate him for it?

You lean in, “You gave me the ring. He’d never hurt me,” you plead with Anthony, tears beginning to bubble to the surface. “He doesn't mean it.”

You’re trying desperately to convince yourself that it’s all okay, that loving him isn’t causing you so much pain. That Anthony isn’t hurting you. 

“You love me, right?” your voice is straining, desperate to reach him. “You’d never…”

“We need to stop this. Now.” He can’t bear to watch you like this.

“Let’s just see what happens,” George says.

“Lockwood’s right,” Lucy interjects.

“No, don’t.” You interrupt, “Look at me,” your arms are gripping Anthony’s tight, drawing his attention back to you. “Look at me.”

Anthony whispers your name gently, as if speaking too loud might shatter you into a million pieces. 

“Look!” you shout, the tears at the edges of your eyes just now beginning to fall. 

A feeling of tightness begins to constrict around your throat, and all of a sudden you can’t breathe. You grip Anthony harder, your nails beginning to dig into his skin.

“No, stop,” you plead, looking for some semblance of the man you fell in love with. 

You gasp for air, you’re not ready to die. Anthony looks at you, nothing but horror on his face. He’s terrified, he can’t lose you, but what should he do now? What if he pulls you out and you die right then and there?

“Stop,” you beg, pulling yourself back, away from Lockwood. 

“Stop, please!” your yelps are getting more desperate as your grip begins to hurt.

Anthony doesn’t know what to do. 

“Ow! You’re hurting me! Don’t,” you’re begging him, trying to convince yourself that it will all be okay, that the mere sight of him isn’t causing you pain, that Lockwood doesn’t kill everything he loves.

“Look! Stop, please!” your shouts are tearing through every wall he’s ever built., “Let go of me!”

Your arms are tearing at your neck, pulling at your sweater, trying to get air into your lungs. Tears are streaming down your face.

“I can’t… Let me breathe!” you choke out.

Anthony grasps your shoulders, trying to shake you out, to do anything, because you are dying. You are dying and he can’t help you, just like he can’t help anyone.

“Annabel, Annabel stop it!” he shouts because he can’t lose you too.

George runs to the window.

“Let go of me!”

The curtains are flung open, the light of dawn filling the room as the chair you had been sitting in minutes prior flings itself into the bookshelf, narrowly missing Lucy.

Anthony had grabbed you and thrown the two of you against the couch, shielding you with his own body. 

“He… choked her to death,” you whisper, body trembling.

As soon as you got the words out, you pass out in Anthony’s arms, your tear-stained face landing against his arms.

[bella-rose29]

deep analysis of a very obscure thing in lockwood and co (bc why not)

Omg ok (spoilers for episodes 2 and 3 of lockwood and co, and also the books)

So the song that plays when Lucy is holding the ring in episode 2, during the experiment, that she says is Annabel Ward and her lover’s song (“it’s their song”), is Peer Gynt Suite No. 2: Solveig’s Song. 

The version I listened to that made me go “oh okay this is the same song” (after playing it through my earphones in one ear and playing the episode in the other and desperately trying to get the timings to match up to see if there were differences in the singing) is by Edvard Grieg — Yvonne Kenny, The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra & Vladimir Kamirski. From what I could work out, the song starts in the episode from just before the singing starts. 

The story behind the song is as follows:

"The long-suffering Solveig is devoted to Peer and she sings the song just as he – once more – abandons her. As she sits at the spinning wheel, she sings that although the years may pass she knows that he will come back to her – and that he will find her waiting for him, just as she promised.”

Lyrics:

Perhaps both winter and spring will pass by And next summer and the whole year will expire But surely you will return to me, I am certain And I shall be waiting as I once promised. 

May god give you strength, wherever in the world you may go May god give you joy, if you before his footstool stand Here I shall wait until you come back And if you wait above, we’ll meet there again, my friend.

I did an initial analysis and stuff and then did further research, so I’ve rejigged the document I had before to make more sense here :D

Story of the whole play:

The title character, Peer Gynt, is based on a Norwegian folk hero who is a rogue and will be destroyed unless saved by the love of a woman. 

He is described as a lazy and arrogant peasant youth who leaves home to go in search of his fortune. He’s very confident that he’ll succeed, but he keeps having disasters on his journey. 

At one point, he goes to the wedding of a wealthy young woman (that he might have married), where he meets Solveig. She falls in love with him, so naturally his first thought is to abduct the bride from her own wedding and abandon Solveig. 

Then he has really cool and awesome adventures, going around the world and gaining wealth and fame from all his different exploits, but he is, at the middle of it all, deeply unhappy. Eventually, when he is old and disillusioned, he goes back to Norway, where Solveig awaits him, welcoming him home and redeeming him. 

Annabel and John Fairfax are sort of foils to Solveig and Peer respectively, in that they are what happens as a result of a different kind of abandonment (Annabel’s murder). 

Solveig is what Annabel would have been had she stayed alive and Fairfax had simply broken things off in a more traditional sense (i.e. if he hadn’t killed her), and while Peer is redeemed and saved by the love of a woman, Fairfax is destroyed by it, because he twisted the love into hate. 

Now for the parallels between Fairfax and Peer:

Peer is a peasant with little success in life -> in episode 3, as they get off the train, Lockwood notes how Fairfax “came from nothing”. 

Peer has a series of unfortunate disasters on his hunt for success -> Fairfax (in the books), before the Problem, spent his time drinking, gambling, and getting into show business, instead of going into the family business. In the show this does not seem to be the case, but it’s a nice parallel that includes the books!

Peer abandons Solveig to run off with the bride -> I interpreted this as Fairfax abandoning (murdering) Annabel for his own bride, which is his desire for success. In a way his bride is the Fairfax iron company, because he’s practically married to it. 

After the abduction, Peer has really successful and fantastical adventures, very different to the disasters that he had previously experienced before the kidnapping -> after Annabel, Lockwood again (Lucy says he has a hard-on for Fairfax which I think is hilarious) in episode 3 (just before talking about how Fairfax came form nothing) notes that Fairfax “succeeded in everything he’s tried. Publishing, show business - he didn’t even start smelting until he was in his thirties. Now look at him”. Fairfax by his own admission also worked in casinos, adding another job (or adventure) to his list. 

Peer gains wealth and fame -> Fairfax gains wealth and fame (just dropping in “miss Kingston got her hair done special” because I love it and it's vaguely related)

And this is where the similarities split off from one another:

Peer is deeply unhappy -> Fairfax seems to be perfectly fine with his situation. 

Peer comes back home old and disillusioned -> Fairfax in a way comes home, as he ends up back in Combe Carey Hall (although this is not where Annabel was killed, it is still one of his properties), and he is old, but he is not disillusioned. He says in episode 3 that he doesn’t regret buying the ring, he regrets “leaving it behind when I bricked her into that chimney” and that he “knew it was monstrous. But I couldn’t throw my whole life away for one mistake. Not then, not now.” He still isn’t willing to give up his life, because he is perfectly content where he is. 

The final parallel I want to note is between Annabel and Solveig. While one was murdered and the other neglected but still devoted and in love, both women wait for their old lover. In completely different ways, sure, because one is sitting at her spinning wheel hoping that he’ll come back and see that she’s the right one for him (cue “you belong with me”) and the other is bricked into a chimney as an angry Type Two ghost that kills people, but both are waiting. 

“She’s been wanting to see you for a very… long time, Mr Fairfax” Lucy says.

Annabel is devoted to Fairfax, and as she dances and sings along to the song, he abandons her (kills her). while waiting in that cavity in the wall, and her spirit is bound to the ring/necklace, she is waiting for him. 

We see in episode 3 that when Lucy lets Annabel out of the ring, throwing it in the air to set her ghost free, Annabel doesn't attack the agents, or even Ellie who is stood nearby. 

She goes straight for Fairfax, because she's been waiting for him. Her devotion to him may have changed into devotion for revenge over the years, but she was waiting for him nonetheless. In a way he did come back to her, even if it was unintentionally, and he ended up being greeted by her one last time. 

He is not saved by coming home and finding his version of Solveig, he is instead destroyed, because his version of Solveig was killed along with any love she might have had for him. 

[stray-kaz]

Stuck in the Middle With You : a George Karim x f!reader oneshot

Anonymous request: a fic in which reader takes the place of Lucy in the possession of Annabel Ward and George takes the place of Lockwood. Let the madness ensue.

A/N: Pretend that in the above gif, George is saying: “I think something’s wrong with *insert name here*.”

18+ with characters who are of age.

“Something is wrong with both of the girls” George announced, half falling into the chair opposite Lockwood in the sitting room.

He glanced up from the paper he was reading.

“What now?”

“I have now found both of them, one after the other, doing things that should get them acquitted, Lockwood. First, Lucy taking a bath with her clothes on, and just now, I caught the love of my life staring like a zombie at Annabel’s ring spinning on top of her desk. Just sitting there, staring. I tell you, they’re both losing it.”

Lockwood’s eyebrows rose.

“The love of your life, eh?” he mused, trying and failing to hide a grin.

George showed him two unfriendly fingers and Lockwood snickered.

“If you tell her I said that, I will kill you and your ghost.”

“Lockwood?”

There was a brief knock and the two boys looked at the door to see Lucy waiting there, and you standing a little behind her, your gaze dancing between George and the carpet.

“We need to find out what happened to Annabel Ward” Lucy said quietly, but firm. “We aren’t going to be able to sleep until we do.”

George looked at you and saw the purple circles beneath your eyes and clenched his hands together in his lap.

“So who...?” Lockwood trailed off, glancing between the two of you.

You raised a hand.

“Me.”

George shot out of his seat like a rocket, deep armchair be damned. 

“No!”

His exclamation shocked you, and heat filled your cheeks.

“Why not?” you demanded. “You think I’m not strong enough?”

George stammered as as he struggled to respond.

“That’s not it!” he managed eventually. 

You propped your hands on your hips, creasing your nightie at your hips and tightening it across your chest and stomach. George looked down, muttering to himself. You stepped toward him as Lockwood and Lucy watched, intrigued.

“Then why?” you asked.

George lifted his head to meet your eyes, your head tipped back a little for his height.

“Because I don’t want you to” he said softly.

You blinked up at him; his eyes were dark and luminous behind his glasses, his mouth set in a firm line; his jaw shook a bit.

“Lucy is exhausted” you told him.

“So are you” he retorted, avoiding eye contact.

“But I didn’t just almost drown myself” you reminded him, apologetically glancing over your shoulder at Lucy; she gave you a half smile in return.

Lockwood came over and draped an arm across your shoulders. George glowered at the casual touch, jealous of Lockwood’s ability to do that without screwing it up.

“Come on then” he said, ruffling your hair. “George, prep us, would you?”

George opened his mouth to protest, but Lockwood winked at him so he shut it, confused. He turned and shuffled out of the room, heading for the basement.

Fifteen minutes later, you were seated on a chair in front of pulled curtains, gripping the edges with anxious fingers. George paused in front of you, his gaze serious.

“I’m right here” he said quietly, surprising you. “I won’t leave you. If she takes any liberties...”

His voice tailed away as his mind recoiled from the idea of anyone or anything taking liberties with your body.

You nodded, focused on him.

“I know, Georgie” you murmured. “I’ll be okay. Promise.”

He went to stand with the other two and you slowly folded your fingers over the delicate ring resting on your palm, and they watched as a gentle glow took over your body. You closed your eyes and George wrapped his hand around the edge of the door, welcoming the dull pain as the wood dug hard into his skin.

“She loves him, I think” you said softly, tilting your head to one side. “The man who gave this to her.”

Lockwood put a hand on George’s shoulder to steady him as a dreamy smile unfurled across your mouth.

“They’re playing her favourite song. She wants him to dance with her, but he won’t do it.”

You stood up slowly and walked towards them, hands outstretched until you came into contact with a stunned and slightly afraid George. You cupped his cheek gently and pushed your fingertips into his hair, his skin warm against your own.

“I love you” you said clearly, and Lockwood’s grip on George’s shoulder tightened. “You know I love you. I’d never cheat. You’re all I want.”

George’s mouth opened slightly and then his eyebrows drew together in a frown as you grabbed his hands to pull them onto your shoulders and then tried to withdraw while simultaneously holding onto him. Fear changed your voice and George thought he might faint.

“But you love me” you whimpered, your eyes rolling a little in your skull. “You would never hurt me!”

You wrapped your fingers tightly around George’s wrists, so hard he couldn’t have pulled away even if he’d made an attempt. Lockwood’s brown eyes were wide and Lucy was staring worriedly at you as you started shaking.

“Stop! Stop!” you cried out, as you started to choke on nothing.

You lifted your hands away from George to your own throat, your eyes widening.

“No” he breathed out, raising a hand to try and pull at yours, free you.

Lockwood raced past you and flung the curtains wide open, letting early light flood the room. The chair you had been sitting on previously flew through the air. Lucy flung herself to the side and George pushed you down to the floor, his body shielding yours. His right hand felt along your arm until it reached your hand, at which point he pried open your fingers and flicked the ring away, skittering across the floor to land at Lockwood’s feet. He bent to pick it up and returned it to its silver glass case.

“Is she all right?” he asked George, concerned.

George scrambled off you and helped you to sit, your gaze now perfectly clear and entirely your own, your face hot to the touch. You shook your head groggily and rubbed your eyes.

“He choked her to death” you said, visibly upset.

George looked to Lockwood, who gestured wildly at you. He gingerly reached for you and touched your shoulders, and you folded into him, your breath falling hot under his collar. At an unusual loss for words, he began to hum a discordant tune and run his hands up and down your back, feeling the cotton of your nightie shift and give with each pass of his palms.

Lucy eyed Lockwood and jerked her head at the doorway, and he followed her out of the room, leaving you two to rock together on the floor.

Later, George walked you to your room you shared with Lucy, when she wasn’t in with Lockwood. You turned in the doorway to face him, soft cotton swishing around your knees.

“Thank you, Georgie” you said quietly. “Good...morning.”

He nodded, a little stiff.

“Good morning.”

Just before he could leave, you reached out and took his hand, squeezing briefly before dropping it once more. And as you slowly closed your door, he stared down at his hand as if he had never before seen it in his life.

You slept fitfully for a few hours, tossing and turning, until the room became too bright to bear and the thoughts in your head buzzed louder than a hive of bees. That was when you gave in and swung yourself out of bed, padding on bare feet downstairs to George’s door. It was slightly ajar, but you knocked all the same. He liked his privacy, and so did you.

“Yes?”

His voice, thick and raspy from sleep, arrived a few seconds late and then he appeared in the doorway, curls in utter disarray and no glasses. The sight weakened your knees even as it strengthened your resolve. He blinked at you; you were close enough to see and to focus on, but he didn’t understand what you would be doing at his door after everything that happened only a few hours ago.

“Georgie?”

“Yeah...”

You took a deep breath in and released it slowly, your fingers toying with the hem of your nightie. George caught a flash of inner thigh and his jaw tightened briefly.

“Those things I said before. That wasn’t just Annabel.”

George stared at you, one hand on the door, the other in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“What are you saying?” he asked slowly, aware of his pulse increasing and the light flush to your skin as you looked up at him.

You slowly stepped closer and lifted your hands to his face, sliding gently over his skin and into his dark hair. His eyes fluttered closed and then open again, focusing hopefully on yours even as his pupils expanded and he found himself thinking about where that flash of inner thigh led to.

“I love you” you whispered, biting your bottom lip. “You’re all I want, George Karim. Is there any way that you...that you feel the same?”

He let go of his resignation, his deferred hope, and he grabbed hold of you instead. He smoothed his hands up your arms and down your back, grabbing fistfuls of fabric over your backside as his lips collided with yours, his heart a raging inferno in his chest.

You whimpered and tightened your grip on his hair, nerves singing and pulse bounding. George pulled you inside his room and reached around you to push the door shut, all with his eyes closed, refusing to stop kissing you. He had wanted to kiss you since the day you arrived three months ago, and now he didn’t think he’d survive if you ever asked him to stop.

And then your hands were gone from his hair and he would have complained loudly about it if he wasn’t too busy losing his mind at the feel of your hands slipping underneath the oversized t-shirt he slept in and searching hungrily for his warm skin. Your blunt fingernails scraped over the arrow of dark hair low on his abdomen and he gasped into your mouth as his hips jerked, connecting fiercely with yours.

You hesitated against him and he pulled back, scrambled for a way to rectify the situation.

“Sorry, sorry!” he said hastily, eyes wide and blown out, wild and black.

You shook your head and yanked his t-shirt off, your gaze running over him as he stared at you, biting his lip. 

“George” you said softly. “Can I touch you?”

His mouth fell open and a broken whine escaped before he could stop it. You held out a hand to him and he clasped it gently before running his fingers up to your wrist and loosely wrapping them around it. He tugged your hand forward gently until you were a hair’s breadth away from the obvious stretch in his grey sweats. You looked up at him with big eyes and he was done for.

“Aw, hell” he muttered, and pulled your hand the rest of the way onto the material covering him, hissing through his teeth as you palmed him through the barrier.

He swore as you curled your fingers around what you could manage with fabric in the way, teasing and stroking. He looked down at you, mapping your way around him.

“Love” he said thickly, his voice suddenly husky again; the pet name and the sound set up a throbbing heat between your legs that had you shifting on your feet and clenching on nothing; he saw. “It’s hardly fair, is it? Are we taking turns or something?”

You removed your hand from him and stepped back, stretching your arms above your head in silent invitation. George bit his lip and lowered his hands to the hem of your nightie, lifting the fabric up and off over your head, leaving you naked except for your plain black underwear. You watched him gaze at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world and the heat of it rushed to your belly and made you squirm.

George reached out and drew you back to him by your hips, groaning when the tips of your breasts brushed his chest and his covered erection settled against your lower belly. 

“Georgie, you can touch me if you like” you murmured, arching one eyebrow.

He stared at you breathlessly, dark eyes wide and wild.

“Where?” he demanded.

You smiled and nudged your nose against his.

“Wherever you want to.”

He groaned, slid one hand up and one hand down. His left, slightly less dexterous, palmed and knuckled your breast and his right dove past the elastic band of your underwear, slender fingers questing. You widened your stance, your head dropping to his shoulder, as the hard base of his palm bumped against your clit and his middle finger swept through the wetness already dampening your underwear.

Your body moved of its own accord, rolling down against his hand as he leaned his cheek atop your head. The tender gesture, in your current situation, felt like the sun shining on you and you shuffled nearer, pressing your hand against his heart. It cantered against your palm, a horse running wild. He was warm and good to you, his lone finger curling and stroking inside you, and you took a chance.

George’s eyes flew open and then shut hard, all senses on high alert, as you found him inside his sweats and straining boxers, your fingers gently circling him, memorising the hard and smooth of silky skin. You lifted your head from his shoulder to look into his eyes, and his breath caught. Your beautiful eyes were almost all pupil, but you were still looking at him like he was the most precious thing on earth, even as you gave a few experimental tugs and he growled at you.

The slightly feral sound sent another roiling wave of heat through you and you shimmied out of your underwear, George’s finger still up to the knuckle inside of you. You tucked your fingers into the waistband of his underwear and stretched it out a little.

“May I?” you asked quietly.

George nodded frantically and you bit back a smile as you pushed his sweats and underwear down his legs and waited for him to kick them away before bearing him down onto his bed. You glimpsed his surprise before kissing it away, your lips landing all over his face before they reached his again, already parted and waiting for you.

You settled your knees to either side of him, more than a little enjoying the writhing movements he was making under you, the tip of him just barely making contact with your entrance when he raised his hips high enough off the bed.

“Quit the torture, would you?” he griped, his palms roughing over the twin curves of your hips. 

“Do you love me, Georgie?” you asked him, readying yourself for the inevitable plunge.

He rolled his eyes, even as his mouth opened to give the answer.

“Infuriating, beautiful menace, yes, I love you!”

You sank down on him with a gasping moan and he could have sworn he’d died and gone to heaven.

[multifandumbmeg]

I HAVE CRACKED THE CODE. THE RING IN LOCKWOOD AND CO.

God I wish I had screencaps, but unfortunately internet is broken in my house so my options are limited.

If you're like me, you noticed Lockwood's very conspicuous ring in the show. You've also read the books and know there is no such ring.

SPOILERS INCOMING:

Theory: The ring IS the necklace from The Empty Grave. It is clearly some kind of family heirloom. It has a blue stone in it, like the sapphire necklace.

My evidence:

1. They replaced Annabel Ward's locket with a ring. They really had no reason to do that apart from making the relationship between her and her killer seem more serious/intense AND/OR making a parallel. They make a very clear connection between Annabel & her abusive lover's relationship and Lockwood and Lucy's burgeoning relationship. We see this in the scene where Lucy becomes possessed. When Lockwood hands her annabel's ring they have a moment (their hands touch) we not only see Lockwood's ring in the shot, we then immediately get a shot of him walking away from her (many have noted his abnormally soft attire in this scene) and as he does he is actively worrying his own ring. Because he is worried about her. And at this this point he's maybe starting to like her as more than a friend- a romantic relationship is being built. Then she becomes Annabel and touches him, accidentally forcing them into these roles- lovers. Lockwood is absolutely shaken by the whole situation for a lot for a lot of reasons, the main one being discomfort with that parallel.

Which brings me to!

2. The emphasis on hands and EXTREME CONSPICUOUSNESS OF THAT RING in almost EVERY MAJOR LOCKLYLE MOMENT. Oh, you thought holding was just hand holding? WRONG! It's set up!

Lucy grabs his hand in Combe Carey hall. We see the ring. Lockwood tends to Lucy's wounds? We REALLY see that ring- the scene is 90% hands. When he makes Lucy toast. It's not very noticable in the scene at Winkman's. But perhaps this is intentional because Lockwood makes a mistake and in the subsequent conversation pushes her away. When he has his panic attack, the camera pans close and he latches onto her with his hands cupping her face. THERE'S THE RING. Ep 8?

Which brings me to my final point: the future. Why change it to a ring?

Answer: he's going to give her THE RING instead of a necklace at the end of the series. They will basically be married. These showrunners were way too careful with every little visual detail in this show. I don't think it's an accident it was made so evident in connection with their relationship AND I have yet to see it brought up in any promotional interviews or mentioned by anyone on staff. Because spoilers. They are planning for the long run.

In short: if we get the renewal, especially the whole run, we are going to be SERVEDDDD that Locklyle.

[bellysoupset]

Halloween Saga - Part 6

WARNING: Heavy angst. Enjoy.

-------

His phone was ringing. Kit stirred on the bed, trying to figure who the hell would dare calling him in the middle of the night.

He didn't bother glancing at the ID, pressing the phone to his ear without lifting his head from the pillow, "Hello?"

Heavy breathing answered him, like someone struggling to breathe, so Kit frowned, finally putting back enough to glare at the phone screen. His stomach immediately dropped when he was met with a picture of his son.

"Luke?" he sat up, wide awake all of sudden, "Lucas? What's wrong?"

More sobs answered him and now Christopher was already getting out of the bed. His body complained immediately, but that didn't matter. He kicked the blankets off, turning on the lights, "Lucas? Answer me!"

"Dad...I-I-"

Clearly Luke was beyond distressed, but Kit felt a sparkle of relief. It didn't sound like Lucas was hurt.

"What's happening? Where are you?"

"I'm- I'm at the hospital..." his voice trailed off, interrupted by more tears, "they're s-saying there's nothing to be done, I don't know- I can't- She won't wake up."

Suddenly Kit was transported seven years before. He was in Venice, drenched in sweat after a show and Lucas was saying these exact same words to him through the phone.

She won't wake up.

"Luke? Lucas, I don't understand-"

"Dad, I don't know what to do..."

He hadn't heard his kid sound like his kid in forever. Kit's heart broke in a million pieces.

"Okay, where are you? At the school? I'm going over."

"Yes-yes, I am-" Luke mumbled, sounding dangerously close to tears again. This wouldn't do, Kit shook his head even though no one could see him.

"I need you to man up," he said strongly and heard his son's breath catch, he didn't stop to hear any complaint, "she's your wife, is she not? Man up, stop crying. I'll be there in..." How many timezones to Maine? Did they still have the pilot on call? ...Was this really a jump-in-the-jet type of emergency?

Lucas let out another sob, trying to quit the tears and Kit made up his mind, cursing his own softness, "in six hours," he said, walking across the room towards the closet to slip on something that's not the silk boxers, "I'm gonna transfer this call to Chloe-" he trailed off once again. When had been the last time Lucas talked with Chloe? Did he even remember her?

"O-Okay," Lucas answered quietly, getting a hold of himself, "what do you want me to tell Chloe?"

"Anything she asks. She'll probably ask about Annabelle's medica-"

"Isabella," Lucas corrected, sharply, and Kit rolled his eyes.

"Her medical history and whatever. Have you called her family?"

"...Not yet," once again he sounded small. Kit pinched his nose bridge, struggling to conflate the man he knew his son was and the teenager he sounded like.

"Well, if she's dying you probably should get to it," he said coldly and flinched at his own words when he heard Luke's breath catch. It was harsh, yes, but he knew it was right. If it was as serious as Lucas was making it out to be — which he was doubtful about, given his son histrionics about illnesses —, then the girl's family should be warned. He could hear Luke trying to ward off the water works all over again, so Kit made the executive decision to shut it down by saying, "I'm transferring you to Chloe now... Stay strong, kiddo."

He pulled the phone away from his face and transferred Lucas' call to his insurance broker.

----------

Leo wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Lucas' had called Jonah around 6 AM and, despite the fact Leo and Jon were running on three hours of sleep maximum, they had rushed back to the hospital immediately.

Luke had been distraught and Leo had no idea what exactly was going on, because he was struggling to string a sentence, but whatever he did manage to get through, had Jonah paling and going in full work mode.

Since then nothing and too much had happened. Leo finally got the full picture of what had happened — Bella had sported a nasty concussion and had been completely unresponsive since passing out at home with Luke — and got to keep the other man company, as Luke stared off into space, clutching her hand in his.

Bella's head was covered with all sorts of wires, but it was the tube coming out of her mouth that was easily the scariest thing. Leo had felt a buzzing in his ears just glancing at it, panic clawing his insides. He had no idea how Lucas was sitting quietly next to her, without completely losing his shit.

"Is she in a coma?" Leo whispered, once he caught sight of Jon again. He had changed into his baby green scrubs and clocked in, despite not being scheduled.

"Medically induced," Jonah cleared up, sounding rough, "when we put someone under, they quit all automatic functions. That's what the tube is for..."

"Why?" Leo frowned, once again studying Bella from across the room. She had been moved to a private room exactly twenty minutes before, after Lucas had disappeared for ten minutes in a phone call. Leo pretended he didn't notice how swollen his friend's face was from all the crying.

"Why what?"

"Why are you keeping her in a coma?" Leo picked at his nails, anxiously, "wouldn't it be better if she was awake...?"

"They're trying to reduce the ICP with-"

"ICP?"

"Her brain is swollen from the injury, they're trying to reduce the pressure using the medication and keeping her under. If it doesn't look up in a couple hours, they'll take her in for surgery," Jonah cleared up, sounding frustrated. Leo paid him no mind, he knew they were both existing on the end of their rope, he didn't mind a few harsh lines and awkward jabs.

"And what are the chances-"

"Don't worry about it," Jonah cut him off, "all we can do for now is wait and monitor, until they change directions."

"Sounds fucking useless," Leo said bitterly, unable to stop himself and he could see Jon flinching as if the complaint was about him. Leo cringed, "I didn't mean you-"

"I know," Jonah moved away from him, "I- Look," he turned to look at Leo firmly, "Luke called his father."

"How do you-"

"My mom texted," Jonah rolled his eyes, "he's coming over, maybe, so just... Stay out of the line of fire, alright?"

"I can handle myself, Jon, I'm not-"

"Just don't get involved. Kit is a manipulative asshole during his best days and today is not one of them," Jon patted his chest, "don't get in the middle of their little soap opera... What is Vince doing here?"

Leo made a face, "I texted him..."

"After I told you not to?!" Jonah glared at him, groaning as he saw Vince walk inside, hand in hand with Wendy, both looking worried.

"Jon, what's wrong, what happened!?"

"Where's Bella?!"

"Where's Lucas?!"

"Why isn't she waking up?!"

The questions all jumbled together and Leo saw a flicker of exhaustion pass over Jonah's face, which made him feel bad and step in to answer the questions.

And then there was nothing to do.

Absolutely fuck-all to do, except for pacing the waiting room and take turns into going into Bella's room to check on her, get some sort of update, or try and pry Luke away from her bedside.

He was planted there like a statue and twice Leo went inside the room and tried to get him to drink water, eat anything, and twice he got the coldest glare he had ever received.

It was off putting, to put it mildly.

"Marisa, hi..." Leo looked up from the chair he was occupying and saw Vince pace around, phone glued to his ear as he talked with Bell's mom. The poor woman was hours upon hours away, since it was a thirty hours drive from New Mexico to Maine.

"Fuck," Wendy whispered and Leo turned his head to look at her. Last he had seen her, she had been on a bed and now she was up and about, all pale. This couldn't be remotely alright.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, Wen?"

"Doing fucking what?" she snapped, without thinking and Leo let out a snort. So very much like Jonah.

"I don't know, resting? You were in the hospital just now..."

"I'm fine," Wendy rolled her eyes, hunched forward, her elbows resting on her knees, legs bouncing with anxiety, "I can't be home and know she's fucking dying here. I just can't..."

"She's not dying, don't say that," Leo mumbled, feeling nauseous at the idea. He glanced towards the doors that led to the ICU rooms, "I wish we could get more news."

Wendy raised her eyebrows as if saying agreed, then stood up, arms crossed to her chest as she started to pace around. Down the hall, Vince came back with a morose expression, then sat down on the chair Wendy had just left.

"She's beyond herself," he said, voice hoarse, accent thick. Wendy nodded, not paying any attention, so Vince leaned his head back, thumping the cellphone to his forehead lightly, "mio dio..."

"Is she coming over?"

"She can't leave right now, she can't..." he hesitated and Leo knew what the next word was before Vince said it, "afford it."

He felt a whole new level of queasy. That was a panic he knew far too much, to have his feet cemented down in the middle of chaos, because you couldn't afford the luxury of panicking or caring or doing anything. He had been in those shoes for twenty years of his twenty five years, he knew it so well it made his head fucking spin.

"Do you-" he gulped down, his heart racing out of sudden, hands sweaty, "do you have her number? Give me the phone, I'm getting her here-"

"What? Leo, a ticket over right now is thousand-"

"Give me the fucking phone," Leo said harshly and Vince frowned, but unlocked the phone, pointing the first contact.

Wendy had stopped pacing altogether and she watched as Leo got up, stepping away with trembling hands, white as a sheet. She frowned, glancing at Vince with a puzzled expression, but it was lost on her boyfriend.

Out of all their friends, Vince was the one who was closest with Bella and it showed. He was a shaky mess, feelings taken for a spin after Wendy herself had gotten hurt. Wendy stepped closer, standing right next to his chair and pulled him to her, his head resting on her stomach.

"Honey, hey..." she rubbed his back, planting her lips to the top of his head. It was still humid, they had rushed out of the house, the morning already seeming like a distant memory, "she's going to be okay."

"You don't know that," Vince mumbled, voice muffled by her shirt and Wendy ignored it, hugging him closer.

"How can I help?"

"...Is there a chapel here?" Vince looked up and Wendy raised her eyebrows, surprised.

"Uhm, yeah, actually. Do you want me to take you there?" she was already pulling him up as she spoke and Vince nodded, looking drained as he clutched the silver cross that always hung around his neck.

Wendy wasn't a religious person and she was definitely not catholic, but it didn't bother her. She guided him out of the ICU floor and down to the maternity wing, in the third floor. The chapel was down the hall, so she squeezed his arm, "go ahead. I wanna go back, but I'll come get you if anything changes."

Vin opened a grateful smile, leaning in so Wendy could plant a kiss on his cheek.

Alone for the first time all day, Wendy leaned back against the elevator wall, her head a mess. She hadn't had time to process anything, from yesterday night, to the difficult talk with Vince about pressing charges, to Bella...

Wendy stepped out of the elevator and didn't bother going back to the waiting room, slipping in one of the bathrooms and inside a stall, planting her forehead to the solid plastic wall and banging softly.

Her whole body felt jittery, mouth dry and stomach churning. Everything was completely out of her control, spinning out of axis and Wendy muffled a sob against her fist, sinking her teeth in the soft flesh until it hurt.

What a fucking mess.

"FUCK!" Wendy shouted, then slammed her fist against the wall and the erratic energy did nothing to help, nothing to ease the squeeze in her chest, so she lifted up her blouse and sank her nails in the soft flesh, clawing with such a force she left a red, splotchy mark. Her heart was hammering away, tears stinging her eyes, but the bright, sharp pain in her stomach was grounding, mind clearing.

She sat down on the closet toilet, staring at the ground between her sneakers and counting her breaths. Her nape was wet with cold sweat.

"Wendy?" a female voice called from the outside and Wendy's head snapped up, before she recognized the shoes and mentally cursed herself for even entertaining the idea it was Bell.

"Claire?" Wendy wiped at her eyes and smoothed her shirt, walking out of the stall, "hey..."

"Uhm, Jon asked me to come get you," Claire shuffled uncomfortably, "how are yo-"

"Get me?" Wendy's heart almost stopped beating. Jonah sent their classmate to come and get her in the hospital bathroom? This couldn't be good. This couldn't be remotely good, "what's wrong? What happened-"

"They're gonna take uh... Mrs. Atwood...?" Claire cringed and Wendy stared at her confused.

"You mean Bella."

"Yeah, Bella, they're taking her to surgery. There's a specialist from Boston here," Claire let out an incredulous chuckle, "I feel like I'm in a Grey's Anatomy's special."

The humor was wasted on Wendy, "a specialist? They're gonna open-" Wendy turned around, giving up questioning Claire and barging out of the bathroom and towards the ICU area. Jonah was standing, in front of Leo, arms crossed and shoulders up to his ears with how tense he was.

"Jon," Wendy all but clashed into him and he wrapped his arms around her without thinking, "what is it that Claire said? A specialist? What fucking specialist-"

"Dr. Peters wanted to wait, but Lucas' got someone from Massachusetts General to fly in and they want to open to depressurize right now."

"This is good, right?" Leo asked, sounding confused and frustrated, "right? It's a good hospital?"

"It's a great hospital," Wendy said, frowning at Jonah. He didn't look happy, he looked... He looked terrified, "Jonah, Leo's right, this is good. I agree, they should try and get ICP down quicker, waiting-"

"I know," Jonah rubbed his face, "but there is still a chance she can recover without opening her head, Wen. If they drill her in there's no coming back-"

"No," Wendy shook her head vehemently, "no, quit it. Stop. You're getting involved-"

"Of course I'm getting involved, aren't you!?" Jonah snapped at her and Wendy let out a sigh, unbothered.

"I think you should go home for today, Jon. Or at least get out of the scrubs, you're no help like this."

"Fuck you, Wendy," he said, but there was no venom to his voice. Leo looked between the two, alarmed, and got up from his seat, grabbing Jon's arm.

"Baby, Wendy's right... It's been a really long night and I know you want Bella to be better, but this is out of our hands now. Let's go down to the cafeteria, alright? Just for a bit."

"I can't believe you're siding with her," Jonah scoffed, sounding dangerously close to tears, "this is an arrogant procedure, if we waited-"

"You're not a neurosurgeon," Wendy said calmly, "you're not, Jon. You're a graduate doctor. I know it hurts to hear, but it's true. Lucas is right getting a specialist and the doctor is right drilling her in."

"If she fucking dies because Luke was hasty and arrogant, as he is with fucking everything, then what?" Jonah glared at her and Leo flinched in Wendy's and Luke's behalf.

"You don't mean that, angel," Leo's voice was all gentle, "you don't. You're exhausted," he cupped his boyfriend's face, ignoring when Jonah tried to push his hand away, "we're going home."

"I'm not a stupid toddler, I'm not-"

"We're going home," Leo repeated, glaring at him, "even if I have to drag you, we're leaving and you're going to sleep at least four more hours before we come back."

"I'm not-"

"C'mon," Leo tugged at his arm, "Jonah."

Wendy threw Leo a little grateful smile as he managed to all but drag Jon out and then she sat back down, alone, waiting for any news from behind the shut doors.

TBC

[lockaluu]

still cant get over annabel ward’s ghost apparating in lucy’s room by her hand slipping into the ring - its so satisfying I love it

[saibugslegacy]

Chapter 2 - A Proper Hogwarts Welcome | Percival

A Mourning Warning Masterlist A Mourning Warning Tag Read it on AO3, Read it on Wattpad

Percival felt a bit awkward as he, Idris, and Professor Fig half walked and half ran towards the Great Hall. Thankfully they didn't pass anyone. Everyone else was already in the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. So much for the first impression Idris had been so worried about. They were going to burst into the Great Hall late, in the middle of the sorting, Percival covered in his blood. Fig opened the door just enough to peek inside.

"Oh good, we haven't missed the Sorting Ceremony," Fig sighed in relief as he pulled back. He turned to them only to stop and give them a considering look. "I'm not an expert, but this seems more appropriate."

Fig gave his wand a wave and before their eyes their clothes melted away, covered by white button downs, gray vests, black ties, and black hooded robes with a small Hogwarts logo patch on their chest.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Percival sighed and reached to adjust his sleeves only to see Idris glaring at him. “What?”

“I put a lot of time into that coat,” Idris huffed. “And my outfit.”

“I’ll miss the coat, Dris,” Percy said. “I’m just glad to not meet my classmates and teachers covered in my own blood. Plus you said you couldn’t fix the coat anyway.”

“I said I couldn’t get the blood out of it, and I might have been able to with a spell. Plus my outfit was fine.”

“I assure you, none of your clothes are gone,” Fig said. “I’ve simply sent them to where the rest of the students’ things are waiting to be sent to their dorms. Now, I need to study this locket as quick as I can but first I must contact the Ministry, they need to know about George and must be informed about Ragnarok. For the moment, I ask that you keep all that’s happened this evening between-”

“Oh shit,” Idris realized. 

“What now?” Percival groaned.

“All our stuff,” Idris looked close to hyperventilating again. “It was on the back of the carriage. We literally brought everything we had and, and everything Mom and Dad left us, all the stuff Annabelle made that we kept, my sketchbook-”

“Mom and Dad’s wedding rings,” Percival could feel the tears gathering in his own eyes. With everything that had happened to them just to get to Hogwarts, this was just too much. He wasn’t much up to this Sorting Ceremony anymore.

“I’m truly sorry,” Fig sighed. “I’ll talk to the faculty, see if we can arrange sending a few house elves to search for any of your things that may have survived.”

“Thanks Professor,” Percival muttered, to be polite more than anything else. Those rings were the only things recovered from his parents’ body. The dresses Idris spent hours designing with and for Annabelle. All their pictures of them. Fig had gotten them both made Wards of the Ministry as they didn’t have guardians anymore, meaning they couldn’t go back to Rosewood. They’d had to bring everything. Now it was probably all gone. 

Fig peaked through the door again and Percival immediately pulled Idris into a hug. As he’d expected, Idris quickly wrapped their arms around Percival in return. Every time he tried to say something, anything, the words couldn’t through the tears clogging his throat. But what could he even say? That it would be okay? How could anything be okay? His heart had already been ripped out of his chest in April, and now it was like whatever piece he’d shared with Idris was gone too. 

“Phineas Nigellus Black,” Fig grumbled. He quickly hurried back over to the twins. “I’m sorry to interrupt children, but you must prepare yourselves to meet the Headmaster.”

A man stepped through the ajar door, dressed in a handsome green waistcoat with a gold chain linked to his black satin vest. He had a black beard and mustache, accenting his neatly styled black hair. Percival could feel his skin crawling already, he didn’t even need Idris’ muttered translation that Fig did not like the Headmaster. The Headmaster only gave them a single look —a look that made Percival even more grateful he wasn’t covered in blood—before glaring at Fig. Actually it wasn’t even a glare, more of a haughty sneer.

“Fig!” Black chided. “Nice of you to join us. The Sorting Ceremony is over!”

“There were…complications,” Fig tried to explain.

“Complications?!”

“It seems the goblin problem-”

“Enough!” Black scoffed. “Goblins. I’ve no time for rumors, Fig, and I’m rapidly losing whatever patience I had left.”

Black sighed and turned to the twins. Percival had to fight the urge to take a step back, maybe hide behind Idris to escape the Headmaster’s gaze.

“If you’re lucky we might be able to get you Sorted this evening,” Black huffed. 

Black walked off without a word and Idris hurried after him, making Percival realize they were supposed to follow, despite Black not saying anything to indicate so. 

Percival was lucky he didn’t run into a table. The moment he stepped into the Great Hall it wasn’t the tables covered in more food than should be possible that he noticed, the risen stage where the faculty and a three legged stool were waiting, the giant fireplaces, or the enchanting floating candles. It was the ceiling. Spread out above them was a perfect recreation of the very stars in their sky, from the stars to the color of the sky to the clouds. It wasn’t a skylight, it was as if they’d simply removed a piece and placed it above the room.

The twins followed the Headmaster toward the stage, where a red-haired woman with spectacles was holding a hat so ancient Percival was waiting for it to disintegrate in her fingers. Sorting, right. Percival braced himself, knowing he’d be called first if this was done alphabetically. “Percival” didn’t come before “Idris” but the name Percy had been born with did and that always seemed to be the one used. 

“Professor Weasley, two more to be Sorted,” Black commanded. 

“Welcome!” Professor Weasley greeted them. She already seemed much more cheery than the Headmaster. “You’re just in time. The Valley twins I presume?”

“Yes ma’am,” The twins replied in unison.

“Wonderful,” Weasley gave them a reassuring smile as she checked a list on the table next to her. “Idris, you are first. Have a seat.”

A smile flitted onto Percival’s face for a split second to match the one Idris flashed him before they ascended the stage and sat on the stool. Weasley placed the hat on Idris’ head and simply stood there and waited. Idris kept making faces like they were talking to the hat, but no word left either of their mouths. Minute after minute passed as more and more mutterings began to fill the Great Hall. Even the teachers at the faculty table behind Idris were glancing at each other in confusion. Percival couldn’t make out what anyone was saying but he swore he heard someone mention the words “hat stall”. It took six whole minutes before the hat spoke.

“Better be….GRYFFINDOR!”

The table directly to Percival’s right covered in children in red uniforms roared their approval. They began cheering like crazy and even though Percival wanted to chop his ears off he had to laugh a little as he also applauded his sibling. Oh yeah, Idris was definitely going to fit in there. Weasley waved her wand the same as Professor Fig had out in the entrance hall and Idris’ uniform transferred from a plain one to a red one, getting yet another cheer from the Gryffindor table. Idris was laughing as they gave Percival a rushed hug before finding somewhere to sit at their new table.

“Percival, your turn,” Professor Weasley said.

Percival sat down on the three headed stool and tried to sit as still as possible to put the hat on his head.

Ah, another older one. 

Percival nearly jumped out of his skin. Well that explained Idris’ conversation. He’d known the hat talked but hadn’t realized it was inside his head.

Of course I’m in your head. This is where the things that matter are. I see you’ve studied profusely with your mentor, good, good. But you’ve come with preferences and preconceptions and theories. Expectations.

I’m looking forward to my classes, Percival replied. I’ve hardly learned anything about magic compared to what I’ve seen just today. I want to know everything there is to know.

Curious…yes, I see. You love an unanswered question but hate not knowing. I know exactly what to do with you. 

“RAVENCLAW!”

Percival felt a rush of relief go through him as the other center table started clapping and cheering for him. He was sure the other houses had their merits, but none of them had ever felt quite right to him. Somehow he’d always had a feeling he’d belonged in Ravenclaw, from the day Fig told them about the Houses.

Percival got off the stool and Weasley waved her wand again, turning gray to a deep sapphire blue that was immediately calming to his mind. The grin on his face probably made him look like an idiot but he didn’t care. Everything was finally hitting him. He’d been excited for Hogwarts before but this was different. It wasn’t just something coming up on the horizon. He was here. He was a student. Better, he was a Ravenclaw.

As Percival found a seat at the end of the table, the girl next to him immediately leaned over to talk to him.

“Welcome to Hogwarts!” The girl said. “I’m Samantha Dale, I’m a fifth year too. It’s wonderful to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too,” Percival replied.

The conversation was cut short by Professor Black stepping up to the front of the stage.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Black said. “Due to the unfortunate injury on the pitch in last spring’s final, this year’s Quidditch season has been canceled.”

Immediately Black was bombarded by boos and protests. Percival himself couldn’t care less. Fig had told them about Quidditch and Percival had no interest in it. Less, actually. But he knew Idris had been looking forward to at least watching a game, maybe even trying out for their house team, so he felt a little bad for them he supposed. 

“Enough!” Black commanded. “It’s not as though I’ve banned flying altogether. But don’t tempt me. You are here to focus on your academic futures. I’m sure you all have plenty to do before classes begin tomorrow.”

He made a motion with his hands but clearly no one understood what on Earth he was supposed to be saying because the whole hall just stared at him waiting for him to clarify. Eventually he repeated himself much more forcefully and all but shooed them away, leading the students to rush from the hall.

“You two!” Black pointed to Percival and then Idris. He gestured for them to approach and they did so hesitantly. “Professor Weasley, would you be so kind as to show our new students to their common rooms.”

“I shall see to it, sir,” Weasley agreed.

She waited for Black to walk away before she started talking to the twins with a warm smile.

“You two made quite the entrance,” Weasley chuckled. “I’m Professor Weasley. Pleased to meet you.”

“Great to meet you too, professor,” Idris replied and shook her hand, Percival following their example. 

“As Deputy Headmistress it is my distinct honor to show you to your common rooms,” Professor Weasley told them. “The Ravenclaw common room is right this way.”

Percival and Idris followed Professor Weasley as she led them through corridors and up staircases. Even with the sight of the castle from where they'd landed after Gringotts, Percival still couldn't believe how expansive Hogwarts was. Every time he thought there would be a dead end or exit of some kind there was another hall or another staircase. The star cases especially seemed endless. 

Finally, after climbing a tower, they went up a much shorter flight of stairs that led to a door blocked but a fixture of a large bronze eagle. It seemed to double as a door knocker but it was much too large to be practical in that regard. Before they could fully approach however, Weasley stopped and turned to talk to them.

"It's quite uncommon for a student to begin as a fifth year," Weasley told them. Percival could almost physically feel Idris restraining themself from commenting on how often they've heard so. "Might be a bit of a challenge, but one I'm sure you're up for."

"We are, Professor," Percival said. 

"Yeah, we aren't going to let a little thing like a challenge stop us," Idris agreed. "We're ready for this. We've been ready for this for months."

"I appreciate your confidence," Weasley chuckled. "Now, Idris, if you will retreat down the stairs for a moment, I'm afraid entry into the common rooms is a closely kept secret."

Idris nodded and nudged Percival with their shoulder.

"See you tomorrow," Idris promised. "Don't get eaten by a dragon."

Percival barked out a laugh from surprise, immediately covering his mouth until he collected himself. "I'll try my best."

Idris pulled them into one last hug before heading on down the stairs. Being separated from Idris and knowing it would be further was a strange feeling. It was just because of everything they'd been through together just that day. Not to mention they had been attached at the hip since April. Now they were wandering away and Percival was somehow both relieved and anxious as Idris disappeared.

"This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room," Weasley explained, pulling Percival from his thoughts. "You must solve a riddle to enter."

"A riddle?" Percival bit back a smile. 

"I'm glad it excites you," Weasley said "This sort of thing always confuses me."

Percival stepped up to the door and locked up at the knocker. He expected the beak to open like the sorting hat with its almost-mouth. Instead the voice of the eagle simply rang out into the stairwell.

Who lived longer, the ghost or the poltergeist?

Now how was he supposed to know that? He doubted the eagle would engage in a round of context questions. How long would a poltergeist have lived? That was not something he studied with Fig much.

Wait.

"Neither," Percival realized. "Neither a ghost nor poltergeist has ever lived. They aren't truly people anymore. A nonbeing can never have been."

The eagle lowered its head and folded its wings, letting the door swing inwards. Percival just caught a glimpse of white stone floors, vaulted blue ceilings, and a large stone statue of another eagle before Professor Weasley spoke again.

"Well done," Professor Weasley said. "Now, go on in and get some sleep.  Professor Fig has already made us aware of your situation, so there will be nightclothes and a spare uniform sitting on your bed."

"Thank you Professor," Percival smiled at her.

He entered the common room, the door closing on its own behind him. The stairs split in front of him, following the curve of the tower. When he got to the top he had to pause in his tracks for a moment. It was perfect. He could feel that with just a glance but he decided to wait to really look around until the morning. 

Now that he wasn't running on the adrenaline of a dragon attack, goblin attack, and the excitement from the Sorting, he could already feel his eyelids growing heavy. He was glad he wasn't forced to meet a bunch of people while exhausted, but he was now running into the problem that he had no idea where the dorms were.

"You look lost there, stranger," A thankfully familiar voice approached and Percy forced his eyes open. 

"Samantha," Percival sighed in relief. "I'm glad to see a familiar face, even if we only just met."

"I was on my way to my dorm but I noticed you hadn't arrived yet," Samantha told him. "I remember how strange and disorienting it was my first year, I can't even imagine how strange it must be to start as a fifth-year. So I decided to wait for a bit to see if you made it alright. I'm happy you did."

"I am as well," Percival smiled a little, too tired for anything more, but he could already feel a small flower of connection blooming. "Thank you for that, I certainly appreciate the gesture. I don't suppose you could also show me the dorms?"

"I'd love to," Samantha gave him a warm smile and gestured for him to follow her.

She led him to the seam separating too large circular rooms. On either side of them was a staircase leading up and down, the entrance to each side flanked by two suits of bronze or silver armor. The silver was on Percival's left while the bronze were on his right. 

"The girls and boys have separate dorms," Samantha explained. "The armor is there so they can't enter the other dorms. Your dorm, the boys, will be past the silver armor. Two flights down should be the fifth year dorms."

Wonderful, dorms separated by magic. He hadn't even thought of that, but the gendered dorms of course made sense. He should have asked Fig or even Weasley about it but it was too late now. He went to step toward the bronze armor only to pause. They'd used his name in the Sorting Ceremony, the one he picked, not the one he was born with. Maybe...

He took a deep breath and stepped toward the silver armor instead. He prepared himself for it to block him but the armor didn't even twitch. He let out a breathy, relieved laugh and glanced at Samantha over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Samantha," Percival said. "Again."

"You're welcome," Samantha replied. "Again."

When Percival managed to find his dorm there was only one other boy already in there, a boy who was already unpacking his things. He seemed like he was Percival's height, with neat black hair and skin that matched the wooden accents of the common room. When he finally looked up from his trunk and spotted Percival his eyes were a rich dark brown that reminded Percy of Idris' eyes. 

The dorms themselves were everything Percival ever wanted from a dorm, and certainly much nicer than Rosewood's. The twins' room at Rosewood had two beds, one nightstand, two dressers, and that was it. But the Ravenclaw dorms had the same vaulted ceilings as the common room, all stained glass windows, wooden floors with matching accents along the walls. There were large wardrobes to Percy's left, allowing plenty of spade for storage so the bed areas wouldn't get crowded. There were of course four writing desks, this was Ravenclaw after all. The beds were bunk beds but they were built to be like their own tiny rooms, with wooden frames and curtains that could be drawn for privacy.

"Why, hello!" The boy said. "Oh, you're the new fifth year aren't you? I'm Amit. Pleasure to have you in Ravenclaw."

"Percival. I'm one of the new fifth years, yes," Percival nodded. "My twin sibling is in Gryffindor."

He glanced around and saw the bed across from Amit's didn't have any trunks ready to be unpacked, just a pair of nightclothes and an extra uniform folded neatly on the bed, just as Professor Weasley promised. He pushed the thoughts of his lost luggage aside before they could overtake him.

"Ah, I remember now," Amit nodded.

He opened a trunk which seemed to have been entirely dedicated to a telescope which he set about reconstructing. Percival found himself staring. He'd always wanted a telescope, ever since he was a toddler and his mother taught him his first constellation. But it had always slipped his grasp. Amit finished setting up his telescope but caught Percival staring. 

"Sorry," Percival shook his head like he was trying to escape a telescope-induced trance. "I just have always wanted a telescope like that."

"Would you like to take a look?" Amit offered. "You'd be surprised how much of the sky you can see from the tower at night."

The correct answer was 'absolutely fuck yes' but Percival was able to restrain himself. He let Amit finish adjusting the telescope before he went over and peaked through the lens. Immediately it was like he forgot how to breathe. 

"It's beautiful," Percival whispered. He pulled back from the telescope already grinning at Amit. "No wonder you'd set up a telescope in the dorm."

"There's another in the common room and of course plenty in the Astronomy Tower!"

"If you know the location of every telescope in this school I take it you like Astronomy?"

"Oh yes," Amit nodded enthusiastically. "So much to be learned from the stars. Also, there's something about the open air and night sky above the tower. It's invigorating."

"Finally, someone with sense," Percival sighed. "My sibling is clever in their own right, but they could never understand the appeal of the stars. I've read every book on them I could get my hands on, but honestly it wasn't many."

"You will adore Astronomy," Amit promised. "Professor Shah is incredibly knowledgeable. And don't worry, it's a required class for all fifth-years so it will definitely be on your schedule. You'll be enthralled with the Astronomy Tower. You should try to find a good quality telescope, they can show you things you never dreamed of."

"I think you and I will end up friends," Percival grinned. "It was nice to meet you, Amit."

"You as well!"

Percival changed as quickly as he could, unlacing the corset and feeling his spine immediately relax. It was a price but a very small one in his opinion. He stuffed it under his bed once he was done changing just in case and climbed into bed, his eyes falling closed before he even hit the pillow. 

He didn't get to meet his other roommates yet as by the time he woke up the dorm was empty already. Percival donned his spare uniform and hurried back up to the common room. He wasn't really sure what to do next. He didn't have a schedule yet, Fig had told them days ago there would be someone to explain their schedule and classes something about arrangements for a system to catch them up to their peers. So he supposed he just had to wait? He wasn't supposed to meet them somewhere was he? Did he just stand there? Did he mingle? He didn't see Amit anywhere, but Samantha was off to the side moving around a plant pot.

"Good morning," Samantha greeted him, then gestured to the plant. "I want him to be in the perfect place. A place he'll be happy with. But I can't seem to find it. Great golden Gobstones, I want him to thrive here."

"Golden Gobstones?" Percival cocked his head as he considered the phrase.

"My own little expression," Samantha giggled. "I brought this dittany seedling from home and I so want him to feel cosy. Dittany is amazing, isn't it? So much healing power in such a little plant."

Percival tried to rack his brain for anything he could remember about dittany. He didn't exactly have the best track record with Herbology so far.

"Dittany..." Percival hummed. "That's used in Wiggenweld potions, isn't it?"

"It is!" Samantha confirmed. "Looks like someone's been studying up on their Potion-making." 

"Quite a bit, yes," Percival said. "We studied some with Professor Fig before the term started to help us catch up. I did quite well with Potions but not so much with Herbology."

"I've got a bit of a thing for plante, as you can see," Samantha chuckled. "What was it like getting to learn directly from Fig? He's always been an enigma to me. Teaches about theory yet seems to know a lot about practical magic."

"He knows a little about a lot of things," Percival answered. "He's quite knowledgeable which was very helpful."

"I hope he taught you enough," Samantha said. "You've lots to catch up on I'm sure."

"I'm curious, is it common practice for students to grow their own ingredients?" Percival wondered. If so, he was already grieving his potions grade.

"Oh yes!" Samantha nodded. "In fact, our herbology teacher, Professor Garlick, encourages it. And I don't think Professor Sharp—our potions master—cares where you get your ingredients as long as your brews are all perfect."

"Is the new fifth year in here?" A voice echoed through the common room. "Percival Valley? Professor Weasley is waiting for you outside the common room."

"I'd better hurry," Percival said. "It was nice talking to you, Samantha. Good luck with your dittany."

"You too!" Samantha replied. "And good luck to you too on your first day!"

Percival went down the stairs he'd entered through - thankfully he remembered which ones they were - and the door swung out for him, revealing Professor Weasley with her hands clasped in front of her and an impatient Idris pacing the balcony.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long Professor," Percival apologized and prepared himself for the crushing hug Idris pulled him into.

"The Gryffindor common room is so cool!" Idris told him. "It's got this nice warm tone so it's nice and cozy and it feels really lived in and comfortable with all the warm woods and this huge fireplace."

"The Ravenclaw dorm is gorgeous too," Percival told him, already feeling his lips twitching to smile as Idris shook their hands excitedly. It was so nice to see them so excited. "I think we're keeping Professor Weasley waiting though."

"Right, sorry Professor!" Idris winced and quickly stepped away from Percival, clasping their hands behind their back.

"It's alright," Professor Weasley chuckled. "It's always gratifying to hear students' excitement over their common rooms, especially Gryffindors. Now, I trust you two are ready for your first day at Hogwarts?"

"I've been ready for the last four years," Idris answered.

"I've been dreaming of this day for months," Percival agreed. "I almost can't believe we're here." 

"Well you are here," Professor Weasley smiled. "Make the most of it. You only have one first day at Hogwarts. Now, in light of your unique situation, joining us as a 5th year, you'll need to catch up with your classmates, and not fall behind. Especially as you'll be expected to complete your O.W.L.s at the end of the year."

"Owls?" Idris' eyebrows scrunched up a bit in confusion.

"Yes, your Ordinary Wizarding Level exams," Professor Weasley explained. "They will determine what type of career you can have when you leave here. After much discussion with the Headmaster and the Department of Magical Education at the ministry, we;ve devised a few ways to ensure your success."

"The first of these is your classes," Weasley continued. "To begin you will only be attending Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology. Other classes such as Beasts, Astronomy, and the electives you selected with Professor Fig will be added to your schedule as you progress so as to not overwhelm you too early in the term. The second is this."

Professor Weasley held out her hands and two large leather bound books fell into them. She handed one to each of them. Percival tried to open his but it burst open all on its own, Idris' just behind it. Pages flew from the books shrouded in golden light. They swirled through the air, weaving through each other and the pages from Percival's book, until they all filed back into the book and into Percy's hands again.

"What is it?" Percival wondered.

"It is a wizard's field guide," Weasley answered. "It will help you to keep track of what you're learning so that you master all that's expected of a fifth year. You would be wise to take advantage of this exceptionally valuable resource."

Professor Weasley spent a few minutes explaining the Field Guide to them. Pages were in the book and scattered around the world for them to learn Wizarding lore, there were challenges listed in the book to help track their milestones, a map, and a place where they could take notes of their own. She also took the time to show them the floo flame system, leading to them descending the staircase in the Central Hall, an absolute monolith of a room with a fountain of stone mermaids, a chiseled dragon mural, an overhang leading to the library, and what looked like the entrance to a greenhouse.

"You can get almost anywhere in the castle quickly from Central Hall," Weasley told them. "Always something happening here. It's the heart of the hive. Our 'Kings Cross Station,' so to speak."

Professor Weasley stopped at the bottom of the stairs, giving them a moment to gaze around the wall. Idris was staring right at the dragon effigy with rapt attention. They seemed entranced by it but was pulled back when Weasley spoke again.

"What should be all for now," Weasley said. "You'll be expected to attend both Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts classes today."

Professor Weasley made a motion like plucking something out of the air, conjuring two pieces of paper. She waved her wand and handed them to the twins.

"These are your schedules for now," Weasley explained. "The other classes will appear as the Headmaster, Professor Fig, and I approve your progress."

While Percival was a little disappointed he wouldn't get to attend Astronomy yet, and he imagined Idris was disappointed they would be missing Beasts class, but he also understood the reasoning behind it and was grateful for it.

"I'd also like to speak with you about your belongings," Weasley said. That got their attention. "Deek!"

A creature Percival only recognized as a house-elf from pictures appeared next to Professor Weasley.

"Children, this is Deek, a house elf here at Hogwarts," Weasley introduced the elf. "Deek, these are the students you were told about. Deek and a few other house-elves were asked to search for and salvage as many of your things as you can."

"Deek and his friends are still searching," Deek said shyly. "It is taking longer than Deek expected, but all your things are being delivered to your rooms as they are found. But Deek found this and thought Idris would like to have it back. Deek tried to repair it as best as Deek could."

"I'm Idris, what is it?" Idris asked, words coming out in a breathless rush.

Deek made the same motion Professor Weasley had to summon their field guides, but what fell into his hand was a different leatherbound book. This was much smaller and simple, held closed with a brass latch and with a rose carved into the leather of the front cover. It was certainly more worn and dirty than Percival remembered, but there was no doubt what it was.

"My sketchbook!" Idris gasped and quickly took the book. They started flipping through it faster than Percival would have been able to, eyes darting around and taking in information that mystified Percival but apparently brought Idris so much relief there were tears in their eyes. "You said you fixed it, Deek?"

"Deek hopes the drawings are alright," Deek wrung his hands a little but Idris just laughed.

"They're amazing," Idris assured him. "Thank you so much, Deek."

"Some things did not survive," Professor Weasley informed them. "Namely many of your school supplies. As such, I'd like to be sure you get to Hogsmeade as soon as possible to replace them."

"Hogsmeade?" Percival asked.

"Hogsmeade is the only all-wizarding village in Britain, and is home to an array of shops and pubs," Professor Weasley said. "You should be able to find all of the supplies you need, along with anything else you may want, even wands of your own."

"Thank you for explaining all this, Professor Weasley," Percival replied.

"A lot to absorb on your first day, I know," Weasley said. "And you have much to learn. Happily, your professors have agreed to create additional assignments for you outside of class. You’ll be up to speed in no time. Judging by your adept use of revelio earlier, I'd say Professor Fig succeeded in at least showing you the basics.”

“Very much so,” Percival confirmed. “We didn’t quite have time to go over all the spells he wanted to teach us, but we have plenty to build up with, both in spellcasting and in subjects like Potions and Herbology.”

“Wonderful,” Weasley nodded. “While we’re on the subject, Professor Fig has been terribly vague about the events preceding your arrival, specifically about what happened after that awful dragon attack. My suspicion is that there’s more to the story than a fruitless search for belonging and an extended trip up to the castle.”

Percival frowned a little. He vaguely remembered Fig asking them to keep the story to themselves but he would think that meant their fellow students, and perhaps Professors like the Headmaster. Professor Weasley was very unlike Black. Besides, she was a teacher, and had on repeated occasions shown concern and care for their well being in the last twelve hours alone. Percival opened his mouth to speak but Idris did so first.

“I’m afraid there isn’t,” Idris said. “I’m sorry Professor, but that’s really all there is to it.”

Percival seriously considered interrupting them but as much as he disagreed with them, he didn’t want to get them in trouble for lying before they even got to their first class. So, he remained silent but internally made a note to speak with Fig about this at length after classes.

“Hmm, almost precisely what Professor Fig said,” Weasley hummed. 

As if he’d been summoned, the man himself approached from Percival’s left.

“Speak of the devil,” Weasley said. “Professor Fig. Your ears must have been burning.”

“Oh?” Fig replied.

“Yes. You seem to have provided our new fifth-years with a solid foundation in the basics of spell-casting.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit there, Professor. They’ve a rare aptitude for magic it seems.”

“Hmm,” Professor Weasley hummed again, which Percival was pretty sure meant she did not believe them at all. “Well, I’m just glad you all arrived in one piece. Perfectly good boats and carriages to Hogwarts and you chose to fly in the path of a dragon.”

“I wouldn’t say I chose the dragon’s path professor,” Fig pointed out. “Rather, unfortunately, it would seem that it chose us.”

“Very well,” Weasley sighed. “Enough chit-chat. I need to get to class myself. Might I rely on you, Professor Fig, to explain the details of the Field Guide’s compass?”

“Of course.”

Professor Weasley turned back to the twins.

“Good luck today,” Professor Weasley told them. “And remember to use your Field Guide. It will be invaluable to you. And, invaluable to me as I’ll be using it to keep up to date on your progress. Come and find me in my classroom after you’ve attended both your classes today, and I’ll explain more about those assignments I mentioned. And we’ll see if we can’t get you to Hogsmeade for those supplies.”

As Weasley walked away Fig stared after her. The moment she turned a corner and was out of sight, Fig stepped close enough to the twins he could drop his voice to a whisper.

“Did I hear you masterfully evade Professor Weasley’s interrogation regarding our late arrival?” Fig questioned.

“Yes you did, Professor,” Idris answered with a grin, practically glowing with pride.

“Though I’m not sure we should have,” Percival spoke up. “I don’t like the idea of keeping secrets like this, and certainly not lying about them. Perhaps we should tell someone, Professor Weasley especially. I’m fairly certain she already suspects we aren’t being entirely forthcoming. She may be able to help us. She seems to be quite the capable witch.”

“She is a brilliant and astute witch,” Fig agreed. “But it was right to keep the details to yourselves for now. We don’t know where this path we’ve embarked on will lead. It may require a bit more…flexibility with your time than she would approve of. And she may feel obliged to share details with the headmaster that would be better left between us.”

Percival had to admit hiding it from Professor Black seemed a good idea. The Headmaster had seemed flippant at best about his students and neglectful at most. But what he kept coming back to was the fact they shouldn’t be on this path at all. If Fig wanted to continue to investigate, that was his right. Percival would even be willing to help in certain situations, but this was not his or Idris’ responsibility. They’d already countered dragons, Ranrok, deadly suits of armor, and the colossus that fought Ranrok and nearly killed the three of them too. No children should be involved with that.

“Professor, I don’t-”

“Understood, Professor,” Idris interrupted him again. Percival made another note to argue with Idris later as well. 

“Good,” Professor Fig said. “Now. As capable as the two of you are, I believe the ability you possess obliges you to be well-trained. Happily, you have the benefit of an exceptionally skilled team of witches and wizards to guide you.”

Percival barely caught sight of Idr’s eyebrows scrunching up a little but they didn’t say anything as Fig continued on to explain the Charmed Compass in the Field Guide, which would certainly come in handy. A map of the castle was handy but Percival could hardly decipher the thing. There were too many random corridors and staircases and oddly placed doors to easily track your path. 

“Now, sounds like you’ve quite a day ahead what with classes and a trip to Hogsmeade,” Professor Fig commented. “Including your wands, which I know you are particularly excited for. You’ll enjoy Mr. Ollivander. He’s an exceptional craftsman and a good friend. For now, focus on your glasses. I shall reach out when I have more information about our mysterious locket.”

“See you soon Professor,” Idris waved to Fig as he stepped away. 

Idris pulled out their field guide and copied the wand motion Fig had shown them. A golden page burst out of the book and flew out up the stairs, thankfully leaving a golden trail of light behind for them to follow.

“Guess Charms is that way,” Idris snickered.

Percivla was silent as they followed the compass the page left behind, too busy engaging in a debate with himself to try and start any sort of conversation. Idris obviously had no qualms about this Ancient Magic path, while Percival had more than a few reservations. But what really grinded his gears was the way Idris had kept talking over him during the conversation with Fig. It was a habit Idris had and normally Percival could tolerate it, but that didn't feel like habit. It seemed more purposeful, to keep Percy from saying anything against what Fig and Idris thought best. 

“Hey Perce?” Idris said. Apparently they were having a conversation after all. Percival hummed in acknowledgment. “Am I a witch or a wizard?”

“What?”

“Sometimes I’m more of a man or a woman, but not all the time,” Idris reminded him. “Most of the time I’m not really either. I guess sometimes I’m both, but that’s not helpful here. So would I be a witch or a wizard?”

“Huh,” Percival tilted his head as he considered it. The debate could wait, this was something important to Idris. Besides, it was an interesting question. “I suppose neither.”

“What am I then?”

“You could make up your own word,” Percival suggested. “Or choose a different one.”

“Have you seen any in those old legends you read?” Idris wondered.

“Plenty,” Percival answered. “Sorcerer could be neutral, as could warlock, mage, sometimes I’ve seen the word shaman-”

“I like mage,” Idris grinned, bouncing on their toes a little now as they walked. “Mage feels good.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful mage,” Percival laughed and Idris made a little noise of excitement as they approached the end of the compass’ trail, which presumably meant they’d found their charms class.

The Charms classroom was like no classroom Percival had ever seen. It reminded him of an amphitheater, now that he thought about it. A lower floor through the center of arcing tiers, each with a long table with three chairs. At the opposite end was a platform like a viewing box with what Percival assumed was the Professor’s desk. Already their classmates were waving to each other and finding seats, leaving Percival and Idris to stand there aimlessly.

“Where do you want to sit?” Percival asked.

“No idea,” Idris sighed.

“Here!” A girl’s voice came from their right. On the top tier was a girl in a Gryffindor uniform and Idris immediately smiled. “There are open seats here.”

“Up there, come on,” Idris decided. They grabbed Percival’s hand and dragged him up, like he wasn’t perfectly capable of following on his own. They steered Percival to the seat on the end and they sat in the middle, between Percival and the girl.

“Percy, this is Natsai, or Natty,” Idris explained. “We met in our common room this morning and she’s freaking awesome. Natty, this is my brother I told you about, Percival.”

“I remember!” Natty replied. “They told me quite a bit about you. It’s nice to meet you Percival. Have you met Professor Ronen yet-”

She was interrupted by a man clearing his throat on the other side of the classroom. At the top of a curved staircase their professor appeared, dressed in purple and green and looking far too cheerful for such an early morning. 

“Shall we begin?” Professor Ronen exclaimed. “Welcome to year five of Charms Now, this will be a crucial year in your education on the art of Charmwork, but I am confident that we will take hold with the passion and rigor requisite of such a challenge.”

“He talks like you,” Idris snickered into Percival’s ear and Percy elbowed them.

“Right, now everyone, please open your textbooks to page five one seven,” Ronen ordered.

“Do you think he’ll take ‘a dragon ate my homework’ as an excuse,” Idris winced.

“It’s just the one class, we’re getting new books this afternoon,” Percival reminded them. “But…yeah, this could get annoying fast if we need books in Defense Against the Dark Arts too.”

“We can share mine,” Natty offered and slid her textbook over to Idris since they were in the middle.

“Told you she was awesome,” Idris commented as they opened the textbook.

“Buuut, before we begin,” Ronen cut them off before they could find the page. “Can anyone tell me the difference between the incantations of the Colour Change and Growth Charm?”

Percival immediately threw his hand in the hair, having studied this exact thing so he didn’t get the extremely similar incantations confused. Apparently no one else had done the same as no one else raised their hands.

“Only one?” Ronen clicked his tongue disappointedly. “Mr. Valley I believe?”

“Yes sir,” Percival nodded. “The growth charm begins with cres, rather than colo, but both incantations end the same.”

“Well done Mr. Valley, ten points to Ravenclaw!” Ronen clapped his hands. “As for the rest of you, the summer months must have really taken a toll on you. By the looks of it, you all spent your holidays practicing obliviate on each other!”

Professor Ronen laughed to himself as he considered his students.

“Do you even remember how to perform a basic summoning charm?” Ronen wondered.

It wasn’t that Percival had forgotten , rather that he’d never learned how. The summoning charm had been on the list of spells Fig had not gotten around to teaching them, leaving Percival to look just as oblivious as the students who should have learned it in fourth year. “Hm. Well, it seems we are in dire need of review.”

Professor Ronen directed them all to stand on opposite sides of the classroom, Percival across from Natty and Idris across from a tall Gryffindor boy with short ginger. Ronen made sure each pair had a book and instructed them to take turns summoning them from each others’ hands. Thankfully he took the time to quickly teach the twins the wand movement and incantation for the spell so they could participate in the exercise. 

Idris’ first attempt at the charm only gave the book in their partner’s hand a small yank, but when Percival tried the charm Natty’s textbook flew from her grip and into Percival’s hand so fast it almost hit him in the face.

“That is certainly not bad,” Natty chuckled. 

“You are a swift learner!” Ronen praised him. “I see a lot of potential. But remember, potential is nothing without practice! Keep at it, you might just rival Miss Onai here!”

A few minutes passed of the students summoning the books back and forth. It looked like Idris and their partner made a sort of game out of it, even though they couldn’t speak to each other from opposite sides of the classroom. Idris managed to get the spell down too which Percival was proud of them for.

“Well!” Professor Ronen grabbed their attention again. “As you all seem to have the basics down, and it is an exceptionally lovely day, I was thinking we might have ourselves a little excursion outside for a spot of fresh air. After me!”

Percival and Idris shared a glance of confusion before following their professor down through the castle and onto the lawn. 

“I’ve always found that fun goes hand-in-hand with mastery, as I’m sure the quidditch players amongst us would agree,” Professor Ronen chuckled. “So, what better than a bit of sport to put our prowess with the Summoning Charm to the test?”

Professor Ronen waved his wand through the air and the class watched as colorful planks of wood constructed themselves into two platforms, one with numbers at each color and the other with stairs. Large blue spheres like marbles dropped onto the far platform as Ronen waved Percival up the stairs.

“So, why don’t we have one of our new students start us off?”

Ronen quickly explained the game to him, which was called Summoner’s Court. Apparently the goal was to use the summoning charm on the balls and pull them towards you, but time the release of your charm so they landed as close to the edge as possible without falling off. Charms and timing. Percival could definitely handle this. And sure enough, he came out of it with a near perfect score, having ended with only one sphere outside the final zone.

“Excellently done!” Ronen cheered. Percival expected him to switch Percival out for another student, but instead three more balls dropped onto the court, this time red.

This time Percival had to play against Natty. He would normally deny it but Natsai won very easily. He hadn’t even thought of the fact they could knock each other’s marbles off the court, docking their opponents’ points significantly. 

So next round, even with the moving boxes Ronen decided to add, Percival was ready. Not only did Percival win this time, but he won with a perfect score and beat Natty by fifty points.

“Very good both you, well done,” Ronen complimented them both as they descended from the platform.

He matched up a few more students but soon they were headed back inside to the Charms classroom to retrieve their things as Ronen dismissed class.

“Good game back there Percival,” Natty chuckled. “I must admit, I think I underestimated you. Took weeks for me to get proficient in accio. Took weeks for me to get anything right when I transferred here. It gets easier, I promise.”

“I’m glad someone understands,” Percival said. “It’s a lot to take in all at once.” 

“To put it lightly!” Natty agreed.

“At least we’re holding our own so far,” Idris pointed out. “Especially Percival over here. Already mastering a charm we didn’t even get to glance at.”

“Charms are easy,” Percival shrugged.

“Maybe for you .”

“You’re good at other things,” Percival argued.

“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it,” Idris grinned. “Natty, did you say you transferred to Hogwarts too?”

“Yes, I transferred here from Uagadou just before my fourth year,” Natty answered. “My mother received an offer to teach divination here. Before I knew it we had left Uganda and were halfway around the world at a new school in a new country.”

“Is Uagadou another wizarding school?” Percival asked.

“Yes, Uagadou School of Magic is the largest Wizarding school in the world,” Natty giggled. “But it never felt intimidating. It only felt like home.”

“You know, we could have ended up at Uagadou,” Idris realized. “Remember, we almost ended up staying in Gauteng because that’s where mom’s family was from and they couldn’t find Dad’s, which suddenly makes a lot of sense. If we’d stayed there we probably would have ended up at Uagadou instead of Hogwarts.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” Percival hummed. “But you’re right. Wow. That’s strange to think about. Now I’m even more curious.”

“I’d be happy to talk about Uagadou,” Natty said. 

“This might seem an odd question, but is magic the same there as it is here?” Percival wondered. 

“Mostly yes,” Natty hummed. “But I did have to learn how to use a wand when I arrived here. Hardly anyone at Uagadou uses one.”

“Oh yeah, Professor Fig mentioned wandless magic,” Idris remembered. “It’s instinctive, right?”

“You’d know wouldn’t you?” Percival teased.

“I don’t follow,” Natty said.

“This?” Percival gestured to their hair. “Their fault. They accidentally turned it purple when we were little and no one’s been able to change it back. I’d certainly call that instinctive magic.”

“Or perhaps a jinx,” Natsai chuckled.

“Mr. and Mx. Valley, a moment if you please?” Ronen called out as the last few students filed out of the classroom. 

“See you later Natty!” Idris waved.

“Yeah, what they said,” Percival laughed. “I look forward to seeing you around, and continuing to make you work for your Charms reputation.”

“I look forward to seeing you try,” Natsai laughed too before leaving.

Professor Ronen congratulated Percival again on his success and praised Idris for how quickly they learned the charm. Then he reminded them of the extra assignments Professor Weasley had mentioned which Percival would admit he had forgotten about. Ronen told them to expect one from him in the near future and sent them off to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Well that was definitely a class,” Idris laughed as they followed the compass again, this time from Percival’s Field Guide.

“What do you think this one will entail?” Percival wondered. “Didn’t Fig say you seemed to have an aptitude for these spells?”

“Hell yeah he did,” Idris said. “Did you see me fighting the armor at Gringotts? I was kicking metal butt.” 

“Well as long as you’re humble about it.”

“Maybe we’ll fight a dragon and you’ll get bit again.”

“Shut up Idris.” 

Idris was still laughing as they entered the classroom, only to curse as they jumped to the left to avoid a purple spell that nearly hit them. 

“Oh great, this guy,” Idris rolled their eyes.

The Gryffindor boy Idris had gotten paired up with in charms was trading spells and shields with a Slytherin with shaggy brown hair and covered in freckles. 

“What did he do to you?” Percival questioned. 

“His name’s Leander Prewett,” Idris rolled their eyes and crossed their arms. “An arrogant prick if you ask me.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” The Slytherin taunted Leander. “ Bombarda !”

Leander threw up a shield just in time to deflect the spell, but unfortunately for him it went straight up, knocking off the head of a giant dragon skeleton suspended from the ceiling. Leander ducked and covered his head with his arms but at the last second they heard a cry of “ Levioso!” and the skull stopped in mid air, hovering just a few centimeters above Leander’s head.

“Professor Hecat!” A girl exclaimed.

“Perhaps you’d be good enough to blast each other to pieces on your own time,” Hecat scolded them. “I get new students every year but I only have one Hebridean Black skull. It was a token from the Great Poacher Raid of 1878. No doubt you’ve heard of it.”

Professor Hecat lifted her wand and the skull floated up back into place.

“Now, you may be asking yourself how an old woman like me single-handedly took out the largest poacher ring in eastern Wales and lived to boast about it,” Hecat said. “Knowledge.”

“To the wise, age matters very little,” Hecat continued. “Today we will review a spell that has saved me from death at the hands of Dark wizards more times than I can remember: Levioso .”

“ Levioso ?” Leander scoffed. “A levitation charm?”

Hecat whipped around and casted that exact charm on Leander, making him fly into the air and hover, barely able to hold onto his bearings. 

“A surprised opponent is a weak opponent,” Hecat said. “Care to defend yourself, master Prewett? No?

“Oh this is the best class ever,” Idris decided and Percival snickered as a crowd formed around Hecat. They’d ended up next to the Slytherin boy Leander had been dueling with and he snickered at Idris’s comment too. 

“One thing I’ve learned as an Unspeakable is the value of simplicity,” Hecat explained as she lowered Leander back down. “Especially in the heat of battle. Now, let’s practice what we’ve just learned, starting with something small. Mx. Valley, join me please.”

Idris approached Hecat who summoned a wooden dummy to stand in front of them. She conjured a shield charm around it but rather than the normal purple it was a golden yellow. She had Idris try a basic cast which was immediately deflected and almost hit poor Samantha. Then she taught them Levioso and had them cast that. The charm broke the shield and Idris was able to quickly follow up Levioso with a few basic casts, knocking over the dummy and even leaving a few marks on it.

“Well done,” Professor Hecat nodded. “But the best way to practice is by dueling. We’ll start with you and Mr. Sebastian Sallow. Duellists, take your marks!”

“Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome,” Sebastian, the Slytherin boy from earlier, drawled as he passed Idris and Percival considered tripping him. 

To their credit Idris just rolled their eyes and went to their mark on the floor. The floor immediately rose, leaving a platform they could try to knock each other off of. 

“Now I want a fair duel,” Hecat warned them. “Only use Levioso , Basic Cast, and Protego . You may begin.”

As it turned out, Fig saying Idris was “proficient” in defensive magic had been an understatement. As soon as Hecat said the word both duellists Idris was casting, levitating Sebastian into the air and following it up with a burst of Basic Casts. Sebastian was clearly a gifted duellist, that much had been obvious when they first walked in. But Idris was destroying him. He didn’t even have time to cast Protego with how often Idris was throwing spells at him. It took only seconds before Sebastian was on the ground looking up at Idris with wide eyes while Idris smirked down at him.

“Thanks for the welcome, Sebastian,” Idris snickered. 

Idris climbed down from the platform and offered Sebastian a hand which he surprisingly took with a laugh. Percival was immediately at Idris’ side just in case.

“Not bad for a beginner,” Sebastian chuckled. “You give as good as you get.” 

Sebastian walked off and Professor Hecat approached them. 

“I put you on the spot and you rose to the challenge,” Hecat said appreciatively. “Points to Gryffindor.”

“Thank you, Professor Hecat,” Idris nodded. “I was just glad to finally practice these spells.”

“If what I’ve seen today is any indication, we can expect great things from you,” Hecat hummed. “I demand excellence from my students. They are capable of it and they must achieve it. A classroom duel is one thing, but battling dark wizards—or, as ever more likely, goblins—is a different kettle of Grindylows entirely.”

“I can assure you we have no intention of finding Dark wizards,” Percival promised. “But we understand all the same.”

“So, I’d advise you to keep practicing whenever you can,” Hecat suggested. “Perhaps Mr. Sallow will have some ideas for you. Again, well done today. I shall reach out soon with additional assignments.”

Hecat dismissed class and as the twins prepared to leave Sebastian stopped them.

“Nice work,” Sebastian said.

“Thank you,” Idris replied. “I enjoyed that.”

“That duel was quite something,” Sebastian agreed. “Everyone’ll be talking about it.”

“It was certainly good practice,” Idris said. 

“Practice?” Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “It felt more like I was dueling an expert. Didn’t expect a new student to be so deft with a wand. Then again, perhaps this wasn’t your first duel.”

“In fact it was,” Idris replied, which Percival supposed technically wasn’t a lie. They’d certainly fought with their wand before but not another wizard.

“Perhaps you have a knack for it,” Percival shrugged.

“Be coy if you like, but I know better,” Sebastian smirked. “Magic requires intention and talent. You know, you might be a perfect fit for a certain exclusive, unsanctioned dueling organization.”

“Exclusive and unsanctioned?” Idris grinned. “Count me in.”

Percival sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Excellent, I knew I was right about you,” Sebastian said. “If you want to get the most out of your time at Hogwarts, you’re going to need to break the rules now and then.”

“Oh I know,” Idris snickered and narrowed their eyes at Percival who just rolled his eyes again. “I’ll keep that in mind though thank you.”

“Good,” Sebastian nodded. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

Sebastian left and Percival kicked Idris in the shin.

“A secret dueling club? Really Dris?” Percival sighed. 

“If you don’t like it you don’t have to come,” Idris huffed and stuck their tongue out at him. “Now come on, we're supposed to meet Professor Weasley. I’m way too excited to see Hogsmeade.”

[clonerightsagenda]

L&Co ep 6. I am going to start this by saying something nice.

I do think they're doing a good job of showing George feeling isolated. It's tough to do when you squash the timeline so much - he doesn't have months of grievances, they've only worked together for a few weeks - but being able to move outside Lucy's pov allows the show to emphasize it. Tbh George is head and shoulders coming out of this show looking the best because he's not being filtered through Lucy's uncharitable pov.

Ok starting the episode now, let's see if I find anything else nice to say.

"We found Annabel Ward's murderer." I mean, you cheerfully walked into his deathtrap and then clocked it after the attempted murder but ok.

Oh man I didn't think about the fact that Lockwood can now see a death glow every time he leaves through the front door. And after the last book, also one in his kitchen. The poor kid cannot lose his talent soon enough. Might be good for his mental health.

I imagined the skull's grotesque distorted faces more as the result of taking a human face off its underlying bone structure and then squashing it behind glass (like smushing your face against a window but worse because #boneless) but evil smoke is probably easier to animate. Also the former might stray into cartoonish territory and this show is far less interested in being funny.

Lucy has entered her conspicuously glowing backpack era

They're calmly considering letting him out much earlier than in the books, I'm surprised Lockwood didn't freak at the mere suggestion

Well we haven't gotten any colorful death threats yet but we have gotten a 'let your dipshit friends die already' so maybe they haven't entirely nuked the skull's personality. Well played on manipulating him right back though Lucy.

TV Bickerstaff made his own sources by killing his patients? Suppose that's faster than robbing graves (although messier because you have to do all the defleshing yourself), but then why was he robbing graves? Unless I guess he killed them, pretended they died of natural causes, and then went back to the graves after the burial. Personally I think harvesting old sources is the better option, then the visitors don't hate you personally. The bone glass spirits all seemed relatively chill just kind of bummed out.

Except, hang on, he couldn't have harvested these ones for the bone glass, because then their ghosts wouldn't be here.

Shame they did the dead patients and not the rat ghost, that would've been fun to see animated (but probably a bitch to do which presumably is why they changed it)

It's odd to hear them consistently using 'he' for the skull already. In the books they tend to switch between gendered and it pronouns for all the ghosts until the very end when everyone but Lockwood switches to he/him exclusively. Stroud is pretty deliberate about characterization via pronoun use in both his series I've read, so this seems a bit hasty.

Show!Lucy: I'm the nicer more sensitive one <3 I respect your pronouns <3 I am still not letting you out of that jar though

You can force a source? That's interesting.

Also, ok, here the old notes show making the glass with seven sources. Iirc the book only had 3 or 4 which is what I'm guessing Bickerstaff fucked up, since we know spirit goggles work. He made it with too many and opened the gate a little too wide.

"You've got a good track record with precious necklaces." Did they write that line before switching Annie's source to a ring?

Also, Lockwood was very brave and/or optimistic to gift Lucy a second family heirloom after she lost? left behind? stopped wearing? the first one. Maybe switching to gold was a tacit acknowledgement that she’s going to keep chatting up dead people no matter how much he hates it and so silver isn’t going to cut it.

The only color in this crowd is blue. You'd think people would avoid black for party wear. Too funeral

Wrecking her shitty boss is actually a great play to gain her trust, nice one Penelope. People's bribes are much better in this version

"They're not looking at me. Not really me. They're looking at the great Penelope Fittes." Lol you don't say

"Like a date?" "Is that so hard to believe?" It is for ME because in the BOOK he is TWENTY and she is FOURTEEN and I am in HELL

You know if they pursue this thread seriously I bet they would've killed him off for real in The Empty Grave. This man's life was saved by the Netflix cancellation

Assuming this is Rupert Gale. He's got guyliner now

A golden sword is actually really interesting because rapiers are meant to be used against ghosts and gold does nothing to them. But gold plate (I assume, a fully gold sword would bend or break immediately) is delicate and would get scratched to hell immediately if you crossed blades with another living human. A golden rapier would be a great toy for some rich bastard who wants to show off how much they don't need to use it. It's an odd thing to give a powerful person's hired enforcer.

Salt sprinklers… having a ghost alarm is actually a great bit of worldbuilding. I was going to say regular fire sprinklers should work just as well since ghosts hate running water, but salt is easier to clean up. Less property damage. Wonder what the nightclub blue light is for. Does it make visitors show up better?

[desos-records]

Chapter 1: Symptomatic of the Larger Problem

Next

Ghost possession doesn't happen often, but fatality rates are high. Even if an agent does survive, there are the aftereffects to worry about.

After surviving a possession, Lucy Carlyle struggles with recovery, delving ever deeper into the memories of Visitors and, in the process, stumbling into the world of blackmarket Sources.

Meanwhile, George Karim races to learn the truth behind ghost possession in order to protect Lucy and save future agents.

And Anthony Lockwood must face his own past with the London underworld if he wants to save his friends and himself.

-

The light in the kitchen of 35 Portland Row pierced through its curtains despite best efforts from the house's exhausted occupants. They each privately acknowledged that the light could be much worse (things could always be worse), but even the pale, fragile light from the overcast London winter hurt them all sure as rapier blades. 

For once, the cause of their exhaustion was not the long, late hours of a case, but the morning result—senses delicate as they adjusted to the sights and sounds and feel of the present, living world again, the comfortable silence as they dug into toast and eggs and day-old donuts, the slow discovery of new aches and bruises—was the same.

The stumbling silence held until Lucy left for a shower (her second in eight hours). When her footsteps faded and the creak of the last attic stair sounded, George pulled out a casebook. It shook the table and rattled the dishes with its weight as he flipped it open.

Lockwood blinked, a piece of toast loaded with too much strawberry jam half in his mouth. Then his eyes flinched wide, even as a furrow appeared between them and the whites of his eyes flashed under the ever-present shadows. The toast clattered softly onto a plate.

"Oh, no," he groaned.

George ignored him, producing a pencil and beginning to scribble notes.

Lockwood sat up straight and laced his fingers together over the Thinking Cloth, trying for business-like despite the grey hoodie and spikey, ruffled hair. He very nearly managed it. "I said no more experiments."

"This isn't an experiment," George said without looking up.

"No more pet projects. I believe that was my exact phrasing."

"It was." The pencil scraped as George underlined something. "But this isn't a project anymore, Lockwood. You realize what happened is of historic importance, don't you?"

"We almost got Lucy killed."

"Almost being the operative word."

Lockwood scowled, the shadows over his eyes darkening despite the sunny kitchen. George continued.

"Exactly three people in the entire recorded history of the Problem have been possessed by a Visitor and survived to describe the experience. Now, there are four."

Several hours before, while experimenting with Lucy's Talent in order to learn more about the murdered starlet Annabel Ward, the ghost possessed Lucy through its Source—a stolen ring now safely inside a ghost locket. George remembered the moment he realized the expression on Lucy's face was not a Lucy expression. 

It had started with the same distant stare she always had when gripped in a particularly strong Sense—those times when she heard shouts while he and Lockwood heard whispers, if anything. Her smile as she described music, laughter, joy, that still felt like Lucy, if a rarity with her. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when she did, when she stepped forward. He saw Lockwood reach his hands out instinctively, waiting to steady her if need be.

When she opened her eyes, however, his heart jumped, knocking hard against his chest. The feeling rather reminded him of an angry poltergeist he once dispatched at Fittes and the table it sent straight through a steel door. But like on a case, he held that fear in check, took measured breaths and wrote quick notes to keep himself focused.

She had smiled a very un-Lucy smile. It was a smile meant to reassure, he thought—or no, to mollify. He doubted that Lucy had ever tried to mollify anyone, ever. The smile flickered on and off as her eyes focused on Lockwood. And her eyes. He saw a kind of love in them, he supposed, but not one that fit Lucy. Adoration, sure, but fear too, eyes wide and frantically searching for something—safety maybe.

Then she reached up and gently touched Lockwood's face. George couldn't see his expression, but he saw the way his shoulders tensed as he leaned away from her. And yet, he still tried to hold her steady.

"We need to stop this. Now," Lockwood had said.

Even though his hands and voice wavered, even as his instinct shouted at him, George had said, "Let's just see what happens."

Immediately after he'd said it, Lucy began to mimic what he quickly realized were the death echoes of Annabel Ward. She'd braced her hand against her own neck, dug her nails into Lockwood's arm, taken shallow, heaving breaths as if…

I can't breathe. Let me breathe.

Possession.

A spike of adrenaline burned through him and he'd run to open the windows, banishing Annabel's spirit, jarring Lucy out of her grip.

Lockwood picked up one of the ever-present pens lying on the Thinking Cloth and started spinning it over his knuckles and back. "Now isn't the time, George," he said. "We can't afford to be distracted."

George's pencil stopped and he glanced up, raising an eyebrow at Lockwood. "Funny, that."

"What?"

He turned back to the casebook. "Did you know there's only twenty cases of possession? Over the last fifty years, only twenty cases. However, Holloway suggests that the actual frequency is much higher, but largely goes unreported due to the high rate of fatality. She found that—"

"George." Lockwood used his tone of voice that underlined things with a fountain pen. "We can go about making history after we settle this debt."

"We'll still need to keep an eye on her."

"What does that mean?"

George set his pencil down, frowning at Lockwood. "The after effects? Psychic Dissociation Syndrome? Echoes of the Visitor's characteristics even after it's contained? Even those trashy magazines you read have talked about it."

If he felt a sting from that last comment, Lockwood didn't show it. "She wasn't under very long," he said evenly. "And it was after sunrise. That wouldn't cause much after effects, surely."

"Maybe. I don't know. No one does. That's why we need to be careful with her. She nearly drowned herself in the bathtub just being around the Source. What happens now that it's been inside her head?"

Lockwood stopped spinning the pen, instead using it to stab at a wraith sketch Lucy had drawn a few weeks ago while they reviewed a case. He held the pen there, staring down at its wide maw.

"Alright," he sighed. "For Lucy."

[soakedinbloodandmagic]

MEET LAYLA HAWTHORNE

NAME: Layla Estelle Hawthorne.

AGE: Forty years old (born September 9th, 1983).

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo (and she does fit the stereotype, the poor perfectionist).

ORIENTATION: Bisexual.

PRONOUNS: She/her.

SPECIES: Creaturewitch.

LOCATION: Nightshade Hollow, Virginia (though she lived in Baltimore for a while, but that… didn’t end well).

OCCUPATION: Public defender (Nightshade Hollow’s only practicing lawyer, who mainly handles traffic court cases and DUIs; not that she minds, she loves her job).

FACECLAIM: Christina Ricci.

ABOUT: The first child of David and Maria Hawthorne, Layla’s parents were more than thrilled to have had a daughter like her father had wanted for some time, and even more relieved when their little girl turned out not to be a bloodwitch. No, their little Layla Estelle was a creaturewitch, as they discovered when a little three-year-old Layla had proclaimed to them that the family cat had a bladder infection they had even fully realized it was in pain - she could speak to animals and sense their emotions, more connected to the world’s beasts than any other type of witch would ever be with even their own familiars.

However, just because Layla wasn’t the current Hawthorne bloodwitch did not mean she was fully free from the burden of the family’s curse. The reveal of her younger brother Addy’s witch type had added considerable tension to the Hawthorne household, with David and Maria incredibly worried about being able to protect their son and, as a result, sometimes neglecting Layla in the interest of keeping her brother as safe as possible.

(Examples of this included leaving Layla to play outside longer than was probably reasonable while they researched the strongest protective wards known to witchkind, and that one time David had accidentally left Layla at a gas station because she’d gone in to use the bathroom and he’d seen a suspicious-looking woman eyeing Addy in the backseat of the car. Layla still hasn’t quite gotten over that last one.)

And while Layla didn’t resent her parents or her younger brother for any of this, knowing the risks that came with the Hawthorne curse - and indeed, she would often babysit Addy and Dante, once he was born, while David and Maria researched - it did make her start to long for new horizons, places beyond Nightshade Hollow where she could make her own life away from the struggles of being a Hawthorne witch. As such, as soon as she had finished high school (valedictorian of her class, of course) and been accepted into the University of Baltimore’s law school (regrettably without a scholarship, but she was willing to work part-time to pay it off), Layla departed from her little Virginia town and headed off to Maryland, ready to make a life of her own.

Layla’s years in Baltimore were some of her happiest; while studying to become a public defence lawyer, she made many friends both magical and human, and even met the woman who would become her fiancée. Annabelle was a spiritwitch, like Layla’s cousin Olly, and had run a small café in downtown Baltimore that Layla had frequented in order to assuage the stress of her new public defender position with caffeine. The two young women had made an instant connection, beginning to date after two years of knowing each other and moving in together quickly, and eventually Annabelle had proposed, getting down on one knee and popping the question on Layla’s thirtieth birthday and receiving an enthusiastic and tearful yes.

But their happiness hadn’t lasted - in between arguing about plans for the wedding and Annabelle spending more and more time at work, eventually Layla found that they had been engaged for two years and had made very little progress. And it all came to a head when Layla had come home early one night to find Annabelle sharing a bed with her assistant manager at the café, resulting in a bout of tearful shouting, a thrown engagement ring, and a sobbing Layla calling her mother from a motel room later that night and saying that she didn’t know where to go.

Of course David and Maria, who despite completely supporting their daughter had missed Layla terribly, where happy to welcome her home, Layla couldn’t help but fear that returning to Nightshade Hollow meant being a coward and simply running away from her problems. Even so, she couldn’t stand to be in Baltimore any longer, what with all the memories of Annabelle it held, and so Layla made her way back to her hometown, back to the woods and the small-town atmosphere and the family that, despite loving her life in Baltimore, she really had missed.

It took some time for Layla to get used to being in a small town again, but eventually she got back into the swing of things, relearning how to do her “hunting” in woods instead of dirty back alleys and taking over for the county’s former resident public defender, who had been looking to retire for some time. She even managed to find an awesome paralegal in the form of Sky Moorland, sibling of Nightshade Hollow’s police deputy, who also quickly became Layla’s best friend. She even adopted a beautiful little black-and-white cat she named Marilyn, who, despite not being her familiar, became a trusted confidant to Layla due to the creaturewitch’s ability to communicate with animals.

But then, so shortly after Layla had started getting her life back together, came the deaths of the Hawthorne siblings’ parents, which almost broke her cleanly apart. It had taken weeks for Layla to be able to even get out of bed and do things for herself without Sky’s prompting, and despite how hard she tried to remain the strong older sister for her brothers, she couldn’t even look at a picture of David and Maria without bursting into tears. Even now, she’s still not fully okay, but took months for Layla to climb out of the pit she’d fallen into and slowly get back to work, leaning heavily on her family (as well as Greer, the young shapeshifter Addy had recently adopted as a familiar) and Sky in order to, but by bit, piece herself back together.

Six years later, and Layla’s life has mostly gone back to normal - she works her public defence cases with Sky’s help, does some spellwork and goes hunting when she needs to, and does her best to keep her brothers from doing anything too stupid (an undertaking she and Olly get together to commiserate about quite regularly). But given everything that’s happened in her life so far, and the memories of the warnings her parents always gave her, Layla has never been completely confident in this happy period in all their lives being something that lasts.

And Christ, she will reflect later as the dangerous force pushing its way into Nightshade Hollow gets stronger and stronger, this might be the one time she takes no pleasure in being right.

Confession time: I know Addy’s going to be the focus of the main storyline, but I honestly think Layla might be my favorite character in this universe. She just loves so fully and fiercely and would do anything for the people she cares about, and I really hope you guys love her as much as I do!!

Tagging the slasher OC fam: @raraeavesmoriendi, @jmathesonandsiblings, @shadowworldwanderers.

[gaintsnowflake]

𝐒𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐘? [ magic AU ]

PAIRING - Lucy Carlyle x Fem!Reader

ONESHOT - in which lucy goes to lockwood for helping geting your hand in marriage

SONG - So You Wanna Marry Daisy by Spence Hood

TRIGGERS - inferred death, stealing

A/N - y/n does not appear and is only talked about !! please mind any typos or grammar mistakes, it is proof-read only by me so I won’t be able to catch everything

WORD COUNT - 1.2k

masterlist

LUCY walked into the small house, a wooden sign was on the fence in front of the house, "A.J. Lockwood's magical needs." It didn't take long for the door to open after she put three light knocks on the door. A tall boy with black hair greeted her, he was dressed in a suit with an extremely long coat. He gave her a crooked grin as he set aside to let her inside.

The house was small but cosy, not something you would expect from someone who is in the magical black market so to say.

Lucy was here to ask for the help of Mr Anthony Lockwood, who was well-known in the black market for magical help. She needed help trying to marry a girl that inchanted her, they had only ever met once when the girl was out for coffee, and she got lost and asked Lucy for help. This girl was more than famous, she was y/n l/n. She came from a very powerful magical family, one that most likely shouldn't be messed with.

"So how can I help you," Lockwood grinned once again at the girl as he led her into a living room. His lengthy body moved very theatrically. "Miss?"

"Lucy, Lucy Carlyle," Lucy sat on a rather comfy couch.

"Great to meet you, Lucy, now how can I help," Lockwood asked standing across from her, with the quick movement of his hands he was now holding a skull in a jar, "possible a skull of a tortured soul?"

With that the skull began spilling insults at the two, Lockwood quickly vanished at Lucy's shocked look. "You are better off without him. How about the stolen ring of Annabelle Ward?" The ring of a famous actress appeared in his hand, moving through his fingers effortlessly. "or perhaps maybe you want to marry someone yourself."

"I- How did you?" Lucy stuttered for words as Annabelle Ward's ring once again disappeared.

"George, could you bring us some tea?" Lockwood called, and only a second later a shorter boy with dark curly hair appeared with a tray. He went and sat in a chair next to Lockwood as he snapped his fingers the spoon in the tea started to spin as it changed a different colour adjusting to Lucy's liking.

"So Lucy, who would you like to marry?" Lockwood grabbed a biscuit as he sat back, assuming this would be an easy job.

"y/n, y/n l/n."

With that Lockwood began to cough, as Georges's face became very tense. They looked at each other before Lockwood stood. He put his hands down on the table, leaning forward to Lucy.

"So you wanna marry y/n," He hummed, looking her in the eyes. "Yeah well, good luck with that."

Lockwood stood before moving his hand as if spinning a hat, just then Lucy watched as a top hat did appear on his head.

"You have about as much of a chance as licking the brim of my hat," with another spin that hat was once again gone.

"And why is that?" Lucy asked, although she was sure she knew, given y/n's family history.

"Cause she's a purebred," George exclaims from his seat, judging Lucy for her lack of knowledge, "Her forehead's worth as much as your car. So let's just say a little bouquet won't get you very far."

"Slow down there slick," Lockwood spoke to George, with a playful tone, before sitting back down to look at Lucy. He crossed his legs and grinned. "You see my sleeves are full of tricks. Just say the word and I'll have you birds kissing at the Ritz."

"What's your price?" Lucy asked, attempting to seem unamused by his theatrics. At this Lockwood moved again, sitting up, he moved his legs to be placed fully on the ground as he rested his elbows on his wrists.

"My price? It's nothing, it's cookie crumbs..." Lockwood kept his grin.

"It's more of a steal if you ask me," George commented looking between the two.

"What about conditions? What are your conditions?" Lucy questioned again.

"In terms of conditions my friend, I've only got three."

Lockwoods smirk grew as he flicked his wrist, three playing cards appearing in his hand. He turned his hand again, making the cards condense, he slid it on the table in front of Lucy.

"Rule one, congratulations, love, you've been promoted to private eye," Lucy grabbed the card off the table as it turned into a paper in her hands. The paper was a contract to work for Lockwood. "I want a page a week on every word she speaks," Lucy goes to question him before he cuts her off knowing what she will say. "And darling, don't ask why."

Lucy looked at the contract before looking towards lockwood again, "The other two?"

Lockwood ran his hand over the table this time as a playing card appeared like before. This time he flipped it over to reveal a hologram that showed active footage of the l/n house.

"Rule two, you see that window, right about mademoiselle boudoir," Lucy nodded as he pointed to a window. "Won't you be a doll and unlock it? I gotta make a quick withdrawal and small deposit."

George only laughed at Lockwood's comment, only making Lucy question what he was talking about. With that Lockwood flipped the card back over before placing another on the table. Lockwood leaned closer with this one.

"Last but not least, listen up close kid, 'cause this one's for your own good. If that girl ever twirls her hair and leans in close to say," Lockwood stopped as he pressed down on the card only to hear an audio of y/n talking to someone.

"Meet me under the magnolia tonight, if you wanna get a little crazy..."

"You turn and run for the hills," Lockwood commented as the audio stopped.

"Straight and fast." George leaned back before grabbing a newspaper off of a nightstand next to the couch and opening it to read.

"Cause that's crazy y/n's way of saying you'll end up on the wrong side of the grass." Lockwood paused shuttering at the thought, before looking back to Lucy. "So still wanna marry y/n?"

Lucy thought for a second, looking at the two cards that lay on the table and the paperwork now in her hand. She quickly put it down, making George believe that she was going to say no. But just as George was going to tell Lockwood "Told you so" Lucy grabbed a pen and signed her name at the bottom of the contract.

"Yes," Lucy said, leaning back after she signed.

"Well, that death with don't come free," George sighed, closing his newspaper to grab the now signed papers.

"But a wicked dream needs a wicked schemer," Lockwood smiled at Lucy. "So thank heavens you met me."

"She's got a two-ply, cream pie, uni-degree, on stealing from suckers like you," George whispered to himself as he looked over the papers.

"Great to have you on the team, how about we get started on the plan," Lockwood smiled as George only walked away from the two, unfazed by their plan that was most likely going to end in y/n stealing  Lucy's life just like the last few of Lockwoods "amazing" plans led to.

George wasn't unfamiliar with this, many people asked for their help to get their girl's hand in marriage, just none of them made it out alive. Cause as George would say y/n has a she's got a two-ply, cream pie, uni-degree, on feasting from suckers, on suckers like LUCY.

[pearlcaddy]

Is this where I request a gif set? My request is short. The scene in Lockwood & Co right after Lockwood gives Lucy Annabel Ward's ring, right after they gently linger, when he steps away fiddling with his ring.

And the scene from Pride & Prejudice right after Mr. Darcy hands Elizabeth into the carriage (after Jane's illness) and then walks away stretching his hand.

Please & thank you.

It is indeed! Here is the gifset. Thank you for the request--that parallel makes me so soft!

[delicatebluebirdruins]

Lockets and Rings

disclaimer this will be a ramble... no one should be surprised

so I just started rereading the Screaming Staircase and Lucy just picked up the locket of Annabel Ward (well obviously i am also finished at the time of posting) and I was thinking about how it is in the show and I won't presume to know why they changed it (maybe because it would be easier for Lucy to remove and how easy it was to put it front and center on Annie's finger and frames her face and i just think its a haunting image) but both serve to show the relationship between her and Fairfax in different lights (heck in show verse he could have given her a locket as well)

Lockets are often ways to remember something or someone. They contain pictures most of the time and sometimes locks of hair or maybe little love letters.

So often it is a connection to the giver a way of keeping them close. It contains a image or a piece of them.

Onto how it is in the book.

page 57 of my copy "once, that girl's living hands fixed it around her neck, think to make herself look lovelier for the day"

180 "maybe I just wanted to save something of her, so she wouldn't be completely lost" a thing that came through in the show (also glad the show added Lucy acting "odd" when connected to it

186 noticing the seam without noticing the seam

Later on I mention the presentation of the memories attached to this precious things in the show but here is the book 191-192 "first a man and woman talking; the woman's high-pitched laughter, the man's voice joining her as one. Then a sensation of fierce joy, of passion shared; I felt the elation of the girl, her feverish delight. A great bulb of happiness spread out to fill my world... The laughter changed, became hysterical in tone. The man's voice grew harsher, the sound twisted. I felt a cold, sharp jolt of fear... And then at once the joy was back and all was well, well, well... Until the next reversal, until contentment curdled, and the voices rose once more in anger, and I was sick with jealousy and rage... the mood-swings flashing past... And all at once came sudden silence, and a cold voice talking in my ear, and a final blaze of fury that ascended to a desperate shriek of pain"

emphasis mine the cycical nature the jealousy and rage of both parties "I was sick with jealousy and rage" and the final moment of anger

Inscriptions on the locket: same quote from Hamlet and 196 latin "my torment, my bliss" which is again very telling on how jealous and insecure Fairfax was.

page 218 "The necklace doesn't really add anything. Even without it Blake is clearly guilty" I have to add this line because it made my eye twitch like this is a reread and I know Lockwood follows up on it and it's incriminating evidence but still I had to share it. Inscriptions are important be it as simple as initials, words or what Fairfax did with the locket which is add a reference to a specific passage from "their" favourite play and "my torment, my bliss" and there is a record of it rings inscriptions depend on the size of the band and those can be slender so it would be very small writing (and we who have bad eyesight suffer with it example i have looked over the wedding rings in my grans jewellry box many times and today i found that does have an inscription of her name and my grandads it was in a bag that I halfheartedly labelled "not inscribed") but still receipts exist

244 Both show and book have an intruder working on behalf of Fairfax try to take the precious item back... inadvertantly shoving the trio onto the right path. That the importance of it is more than meets the eye.

250 I am very glad the show added more emphasis on Annie playing Ophelia in Hamlet as it joins Fairfax, Blake and her in this unwilling jealous love triangle (assuming Blake felt anything for her other than fondness of a coworker in the show we know she dated him for little bit) If we had more time maybe we'd have more than one mention of Fairfax and showbuisness.

and then we get a big gap and resume with

407 Fairfax performing under his middle name and the history of his acting stint being something he remained proud of and probably something he always wanted to do but expectations of his life kept him from his real true love his great pride but still love of money is greater than anything else.

409 "passion is what Annie and I shared" passion goes both ways it's a very strong emotion and we see it in the glimpse we got of their relationship

410 "Annie was not of the correct social standing, you see her father was a tailor, or something of that kind- and my parents would have cut off my inheritance if they'd known about her. Well, finally Annie demanded we go public. I refused, of course - the idea was impossible-so she left me... For a time she went around with Hugo Blake: a fop, a worthless dandy. He was no good and she knew it. Before long she was back with me." Everything Fairfax did was to keep the relationship secret and keep Annie with him it was Hugo Blake dropping her off at the door that was the ignition for his jealous rage ending with Annie's death. Fairfax also visited her in secret and waited for her inside. I don't think I have to say how terrifying it must have been to come home and the moment you're inside you're being confronted by an angry jealous man'

412 admitting he forgot the Locket for weeks vs "I often regret leaving it behind when I bricked her into that chimney. I knew it was monstrous. But I couldn't throw my whole life away for one mistake" which is actually not completely discrediting the idea that in his panic and guilt it slipped his mind to take it with him (but still him keeping it with him somebody could find and ask about it)

428 Annie hopefully moving on and the locket being destroyed in the funaces

Now lets talk about rings

When rings come into play in romantic relationships people tend to lose their minds a little. What with the empahsis on extravagant engagement rings and the simpler wedding bands.

Symbolically as a whole rings are unending circles a sign of an unending bond, a show of committment. No matter the relationship type.

so promise rings: it's a commitment ring without being a engagment ring or wedding ring "It's given by one partner as a token of their fidelity, and in turn worn by the other to show that the commitment is mutual." and can be used to signify a future engagement

Engagement and wedding rings can become heirlooms passed down through the years, and it's obvious what they mean but its the greater/ greatest emotional show of romantic commitment.

And I think having it be a ring in the show is incredibly cruel of Fairfax. We don't know what the interaction was like when she got given the ring and it's inscription but just think about the hopes she had for their relationship, for their future. All brought up because of a ring and a significant inscription for her "never doubt i love" because of what she did as an actor and the quote itself.

The snippets of conversation when Lucy channels Annabel. Fairfax seemingly making a mountain out of a mole hill and working himself into a rage. Talking about Hugo Blake dropping her off "did you tell him where to go?" and Annie not knowing what the problem was and just being happy that she gets to spend to time with the man she loved. "She's afraid *pants* It's alright he loves me you love me don't you." As well a the confusion and the desperation of "you gave me the ring. he'd never hurt me, never... stop, stop look at me you're hurting me stop please I can't bloody breathe" all draws out the pain Annie is feeling.

modes of death and other things

in the book Annie's death was seemingly accidental a hand raised in anger and a broken neck it was the cover up that made it murder. And I don't why I started thinking about this but lets diverge to another show another story. The Haunting of Hill House adapted by Mike Flanagan and Nell Crane's passing in the show. Her mother's locket (holding the images of her and Luke) turning into a noose. And with a hanging there is two ways to die a broken neck and suffocation. Suffocation is a hard way to go intimate no matter where you are, you are sharing the last breath of another person. It also a little premeditated? nobody gets accidently strangled right

[solticeenery]

Okay hear me out I adore how they changed sources to fit in logical picture and to be able to notice them and see. Because truly, if it was a bracelet on Marissa, it wouldn't be so easy to show it on Penelope, because you have to change the scene and frame and all this stuff. Same with Annabelle Ward. We wouldn't see a necklace on a glowing figure so easily, but the ring on a hand literally in front of our eyes? Yep. It is noticeable.

I adore everyone related to the series, they made this show a masterpiece

In the show the necklace Penelope wears is definitely the source (replacing the bracelet) because we also see Marissa wearing it in that interview Lucy watches on TV

[mellkellyismyhero]

not sure if anyone’s noticed this, but i had some thoughts about annabel’s ring

So I’ve only watched episode 1 so far BUT it took me until 2 AM to finish it because I kept pausing it to write down all my thoughts

and one of those thoughts had to do with why they changed Annabel’s necklace to a ring.

Logically I know it’s probably nothing, it’s such a tiny change, but I got stuck on it for one reason and one reason only.

In the books, there was a nice little bookend with the series beginning with Lucy stealing Annabel Ward’s necklace, and then at the end, Lockwood gives Lucy his mother’s necklace to symbolize his character growth or whatever. 

And now Annabel Ward has a ring, that Lucy stole. A ring, guys.

so if they continue to adhere to the books as closely as they did in the first episode... what do you think the chances are of lockwood giving lucy a ring instead of a necklace at the end?