#back in my day she used to be called cure earl but people are calling her cure art now?

[precureshowdown]

[juliandev0rak]

Snow Day

The morning after the Yule ball brings snow, laughter, and some friendly competition.

characters: Ella Sagen (of @leechobsessed), Leila Lonan and Lachlan Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens​), Beatrice Viano, also ft. a brief cameo by Julian Devorak

words: ~3000

notes: writing about snow in the middle of summer was a very nice distraction from how hot it is outside

a Hallmark Yule side fic set after Netherfield Ball pt 2

When Beatrice wakes up the morning after the Yule ball something seems different. 

The air feels colder, and everything is so bright, the edges of the furniture in her room are sharper than they should be. She rubs her hands against her eyes to clear her vision which is still fuzzy from sleep, but the lighting in her room remains the same. Beatrice never draws her curtains at night, preferring to let the moonlight in, but this morning the usually weak sunlight flooding through her window is almost unnaturally bright. 

Her bed is warm and comfortable and the room is cold, but ultimately her curiosity wins out and Beatrice gets out of bed to look out the window. She gasps as she sees the Lonan’s garden covered in a blanket of bright white snow, the source of the light. She’s never seen so much snow before and in her excitement she opens the window and sticks her head out. 

The snow is still lightly falling and Beatrice laughs as a cold drop of snow melts on her nose. Before she can help it, she finds herself thinking back to the evening before when she’d sat out in the garden with Lysander. The snow had just begun to fall by the time he escorted her back to the ball, the frozen flurries sticking to his dark hair and getting caught on his eyelashes. They’d sat out there for a few minutes, watching the snow fall and enjoying each other’s quiet company.

A knock on the door pulls Beatrice from her thoughts. She can tell by the knock that it’s Leila, and she rushes over to open the door for her friend. “Good morning, you’re up early!’ 

“It’s snowing!” Leila is practically bouncing with excitement and Beatrice privately wonders how many cups of tea her friend has had this morning.

“It is! Did you have anything to do with the weather, by chance?” Beatrice watches as her friend’s expression turns into a grin.

“I might’ve helped the snow a little, it’s not Yule without snow,” Leila laughs, tugging on Beatrice’s arm to pull her out of the door. “Let’s go out and look at it! You’ve never seen snow before, this is a special occasion.” 

“Yes, I must admit I’m quite eager to see it,” Beatrice smiles. “But perhaps I should put on more suitable clothing.” She gestures to her nightgown and socks with a laugh.

“Yes, but hurry!” Leila makes no move to leave the doorway so Beatrice sighs and tugs her inside, pulling the door closed behind her. She pulls on her warmest clothing and takes her time lacing her boots even as Leila paces in the corner out of impatience. 

“Alright, I’m ready. You’re so excitable this morning.” Beatrice allows herself to be pulled down the hallway towards Ella’s room.

“I’ve already had two cups of tea, and as I said it’s a special day, your first real snow day!” Leila knocks on Ella’s door and Beatrice smiles at her friend, pleased that she’d guessed correctly about the tea. There’s no response to her knock so she tries again, and this time the door opens a tiny crack. 

Ella’s face appears in the doorway, just one blue eye and a mess of dark hair visible through the crack. “Why are you two up so early?”

“Beatrice and I are going out to look at the snow, come with us!” Leila says.

“You two go on ahead, I’ll be right there.” Ella starts to close the door but Leila puts her hand out to stop her. 

“Why don’t you just let us in, we can wait while you get ready,” Leila suggests. Beatrice watches as a look of panic flashes across Ella’s face and she tilts her head to try to get a better look through the doorway. 

“No! That’s ok!” 

“Ella?” A voice calls from inside the door, a familiar male voice. Leila turns to Beatrice who turns to Ella who blushes and tries to close the door in their faces again. 

“Ella, who's in your room?” Beatrice asks, though she’s certain she knows the answer already

Her question is answered as the door opens a bit wider and Lachlan’s face appears in the crack of the door next to Ella. 

“Good morning, ladies, what brings you to Ella’s door at this hour?” Lachlan smiles, not the least bit concerned at the embarrassed blush on Ella’s face as she tries to push him back into her room.

“I would ask you the same question, but I don’t think I’d like to know the answer,” Leila wrinkles her nose. “Just meet us downstairs when you’re ready, Ella. And Lachlan, you'd better not distract her, I worked very hard to make the snow perfect.”

“I’ll be out in just a minute!” Ella says, successfully pushing Lachlan out of the way so she can shut the door. Beatrice and Leila are left out in the hallway staring at each other. A moment of silence passes before the two of them immediately burst into laughter.  

“Well, I’m happy to see the two of them have made up,” Beatrice says as Leila leads her down the stairs. 

“Me too, though I wish I hadn’t seen it first hand.” Leila’s face scrunches up again.

Beatrice laughs as she dips down to pick up Bramble who had followed her out of her room. “I’m sure the snow will make us forget all about it, but first I’d like to get some breakfast.”

They head to the dining room where an impressive array of breakfast foods awaits them. There's everything from scones and fresh fruit to eggs and cured meats, and like every meal at the Lonan manor it’s a veritable feast. Beatrice sets Bramble down on the seat next to her and reaches for a plate which she piles with a variety of pastries. She does her best to try a little of everything else as well, but the scones are still her favorite.

As they eat, Beatrice and Leila talk about their plans for the day. Beatrice feeds Bramble a bite of apple from her plate and finishes her cup of tea as she listens to Leila tell a story about Julian’s dancing from the night before. She reaches to pour a second cup of tea just as Ella finally appears. Her hair is neatly brushed and she looks less tired than she has in weeks, but her cheeks are still quite flushed and her expression is a bit sheepish as she looks at her friends.

“Nice of you to join us,” Leila teases. Ella takes the seat in between Beatrice and Leila, who puts a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry we laughed at you, I’m glad that you and Lachlan are on good terms again.” 

“As am I,” Beatrice says and Ella gives her a kind smile in return. 

The three continue breakfast, talking all the while about the ball they’d attended the night before and all that has happened since. Though the conversation mainly focuses on Lachlan and Ella’s renewed relationship, Beatrice does not escape questioning. She blushes furiously as Leila asks her about her night at the ball with Lysander.

“There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid,” Beatrice frowns as she stirs three sugar cubes into her cup of tea. “It was nice.” 

“Nice?” Ella prompts, and Beatrice looks away from her friends, her eyes travelling down to examine the decorative details on her plate. 

“That’s all you can say about the ball?” Leila asks, looking at Beatrice with a degree of confusion.

“What would you like me to say?” Beatrice says, perhaps a touch too loudly. Ella and Leila look at her in question and she sighs, keeping her eyes glued to the table. “I’m sorry. It was a lovely night and despite the fact that I hate balls I enjoyed myself immensely. Lysander was an excellent dancer and somehow he managed to make it feel like we were the only two people in the room. I wish the evening had never ended, and I wish that I could dance with him again.” 

“That sounds great, Beatrice!” Leila smiles, her open expression encouraging Beatrice to talk more.

“It feels like last night was a dream. We sat together in the gardens and he lent me his jacket, and for a moment I could almost pretend he felt the same way I do.” Beatrice looks down at her tea again. “But that’s all there is to it really, dreams and wishes and pretend fantasies.”

The table falls silent for a moment as Ella and Leila look at her. Beatrice keeps her eyes down, but her attention is pulled away from the table as Ella pulls her into a hug.

“I’m sorry, Beatrice.” 

“It’s quite alright, I just need to manage my expectations. He’s my friend, and I care for him a great deal no matter the outcome,” Beatrice sniffs, determined to maintain composure. Ella releases her from the hug and Beatrice reaches for her teacup again to have something to do, missing the way Leila and Ella look at each other with concern.

“He cares about you, too, Beatrice,” Leila says softly, “He doesn’t know how to tell you that, and he doesn’t exactly know how to show it either, but Lysander does care about you.” 

At Leila’s words, Beatrice’s lips pull up into a sad half smile and she takes a sip of her earl grey. As she drinks her tea, she takes one last moment to think about Lysander and the ball. She can picture his face so clearly, all of the smiles he’d given her, and the way his hands had felt in hers as they’d danced.

When Beatrice looks up a moment later she’s determined to leave her feelings behind, and she meets her friends’ eyes with a happier expression. 

“Yes, well I’ll simply have to think about other parts of the evening instead, like the chocolate fountain. We need those in Vesuvia.” Beatrice thinks back to the buffet full of sweets she’d enjoyed, most of them were things she had never seen before but everything she sampled had been delicious.

“I thought you’d enjoy that,” Leila smiles, “As soon as I walked in I told Julian ‘If we lose sight of Beatrice just look for the chocolate fountain’. I’m glad you had a good time, I know how much you hate events like that.”

“It seems we all had a nice evening.” Beatrice looks over at Ella with a raised eyebrow, wanting to turn the attention away from herself again.

“Yes, I think we’ve already established that fact,” Ella grimaces. “Now can we please stop talking about it?”

“We’re your friends, it’s our job to torment you a little,” Leila laughs as she gets up from her seat. She gestures to the door, “Now, how about we take both of your minds off of my brothers and go enjoy the snow!” 

Beatrice manages to laugh too, her mood brightened by Leila’s enthusiasm. She sets Bramble down and her familiar hops off to find a warm spot in front of a fireplace. She links arms with Ella and the two follow behind Leila, who leads them out towards the gardens. 

When she steps outside Beatrice can hardly believe how beautiful it all is. Her eyes widen in awe at the winter wonderland around her and she lets go of Ella’s arm as she begins to wander. Everything is sparkling in the winter sun, the landscape glittering with ice dripping frozen from the trees and benches. Beatrice had thought the Lonan garden was beautiful before, but its looks are only heightened by the snow.

The air is cold and her breath comes out in visible puffs, it’s much colder than she’s used to but Beatrice finds she doesn’t mind it. Still, she reaches into her pocket to pull her gloves on and casts a quick warming charm on her cloak.

“Leila, did you really do all of this?” Beatrice asks, turning to look at her friend. 

“Not all of it, I simply encouraged the weather,” Leila grins. She seems proud of herself and Beatrice smiles at the thought, remembering how long it had taken Leila to come to terms with her magic. Leila’s magic is powerful, but it’s also breathtakingly beautiful. 

“It’s gorgeous, Leila!” Ella says, turning in a circle as she revels in the still-falling snow. 

Beatrice reaches over to squeeze Leila’s hand. “You never cease to amaze me.” 

She turns to wander further into the garden, but before she can make it very far Beatrice feels something hit the back of her head. She yelps and reaches up with her hand to feel the icy ball of snow she’s been hit with. She turns around to find Leila gleefully laughing as she bends down to pick up more snow. Beatrice’s eyes narrow and she realizes this has suddenly become a snowball fight, a concept she’s heard of but never had a chance to participate in until now. 

Beatrice hurriedly bends down to scoop snow into her hands, cringing at the cold she feels through her thin gloves, but determined to get Leila back. If this is a competition she intends to win. Leila manages to dodge the snowball, but it hits Ella instead who yells and quickly starts scooping up snow of her own. 

Soon enough the air is full of flying snow and the sound of their laughter and screams. Ella’s aim is impeccable, and she manages to hit both Beatrice and Leila in quick succession before either can duck out of the way. Beatrice hides behind a hedge to catch her breath and takes a moment to stockpile snowballs. When she pops her head back up she throws one towards where she’d last seen Leila, only to find Leila has constructed a wall of ice as a shield. 

“Hey! That’s cheating,” Beatrice calls, though she has to admit it’s a clever idea.

Ella’s voice comes from behind her, “We all have magic, it’s fair game!” 

Beatrice ducks out of the way just in time to dodge the giant snowball Ella throws at her, the size clearly aided by her water magic. Beatrice runs across the lawn, looking for cover of her own as Leila emerges from behind her ice shield with a barrage of icy snowballs. Beatrice manages to duck behind a large tree and begins to strategize. Leila might have won this round with her ice wall, but she won’t win the war. 

Beatrice hears Leila laugh as Ella tries her best to get past the ice but ends up covered in snow. It’s a direct approach, and Beatrice decides on a more subtle plan of attack. She can’t scoop up snow fast enough so she uses her magic to conjure the falling snow from the air into a ball, hurling it towards Ella’s turned back. She hits her target and Ella whirls around, her dark hair flying in her hurry to retaliate.

Beatrice catches Ella’s next snowball in a shield of water, dissolving the snow on impact. Ella throws her own wave of water in Beatrice’s direction and she doesn’t duck fast enough and ends up drenched in cold water.

“Ella, this is a snow fight not a water fight,” Beatrice complains, casting a quick drying spell so she won’t freeze in the cold. Ella simply laughs and runs in the opposite direction before Beatrice can get her back. Leila finally emerges from her ice wall to go on the offensive, and the fight continues for a few more minutes. 

There seems no clear winner as the three each use their magic to give themselves an advantage, they are evenly matched and equally determined to win. Leila is about to throw a snowball at an unsuspecting Beatrice when a voice calls from an upstairs window. 

“What are you three up to out there?” Julian calls, his red hair standing out brightly against the snow. Leila turns to look at Beatrice and Ella with a mischievous grin and they all understand her silent meaning. They each throw their snowballs up at the window instead, all three hitting their new target-- Julian. 

“Hey!” He sputters, brushing snow off of his face, “No fair! Leave me out of this.” He shuts the window with a huff and the three burst into laughter. 

The attack on Julian brings them to a truce, and Leila plops down on the snow to make a snow angel. Ella collapses next to her, still giggling as she moves her arms and legs wildly. Beatrice sits next to them with a happy sigh, but she yelps as Leila grabs her by the leg, pulling her down into the snow. 

“Beatrice, you must make snow angels with us! The trio must be complete,” Leila laughs and Beatrice gives in, tentatively moving her arms as she’d seen the other two do. After a few minutes it gets far too cold to be laying in the snow and Ella stands up first, offering the other two a hand. 

“Let’s go inside, I’ll make us some tea,” Leila suggests, throwing an arm around Beatrice and Ella’s shoulders. The three walk towards the house and Beatrice nods and smiles innocently at Leila’s suggestion, but she’s got one more trick up her sleeve. 

When the other two aren’t looking, she pulls the snowball she’s been saving out of her pocket and shoves it down the back of Leila’s dress. Leila squeals and turns to glare at her and Beatrice resists the urge to stick her tongue out at her. She lunges out of the way before Leila can grab her and runs towards the house. 

“I win,” Beatrice declares, shouting over her shoulder. She nearly skips as she runs, all memory of her earlier melancholy mood erased by the snow and the laughter of her friends.

“Lysander had better watch out, she’s crafty,” Ella jokes as she and Leila follow Beatrice inside. 

Leila links her arm through Ella’s and smiles, “I think he likes that about her.” 

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

First Chance at a Family

Day 2 of 2020′s 31 Days of Ficmas.  Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the list!

Prompt: ginger/gingerbread

Rating: T

Pairing: 9xRose AU; mini-sequel to Second Chance at Forever

Summary: Rose & John’s journey to parenthood, told in 4 parts.  Warnings for: morning sickness, pregnancy, etc

2020 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist  |  Second Chance at Forever

AO3

---

“Ugh.”  Wiping at her mouth Rose leaned back, closing the toilet lid and reaching for the flush.  Tilting over onto her side, she rested her heated face against the soothingly cold bathroom floor, feeling like death warmed over.  “This is the third morning in a row, and I’m starting to think it’s not the New Year’s hangover,” she mumbled into the tiles.  “I’m not ready to go there.”

Her one comfort was that John was surely already at work, blissfully unaware of the physical and mental turbulence occurring in her stomach.  No need to worry him before she had to.

“If I still don’t feel well tomorrow, I’ll go see a doctor,” she bartered with her stomach, hand hovering over it for a moment before clenching her fist and lowering it to the ground.  That, she felt, would be a tacit acknowledgement of the increasingly-likely scenario, and she wasn’t ready to face that yet.  “And if not, definitely the day after.”

She lay there for a few more minutes, eventually determining it was safe to resume her day.  Moving gingerly, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, pulling her dressing gown tightly around her as she shuffled towards the kitchen-

And froze, shocked to see her husband sitting at the table sipping from a mug and writing on a piece of paper.

“Morning,” he said flatly, not looking up.  “That’s for you.”  His head tilted in the direction of a steaming mug across from him, and she sank into the seat without taking her eyes off him.

Lifting the mug to her lips, she found ginger tea, her stomach clenching at the implication.

“I thought you had office hours this morning,” she broke the silence once she’d drunk half of it. “Why…”

“My wife is sick, I wanted to be here if she needed me.  However, I didn’t want to intrude if she wasn’t ready to tell me what’s going on?”

And just like that, she knew- that her fears were correct, and worse, John had clearly figured it out first.  Shit. In the back of her mind she knew this was a good thing, she should be happy about it, but we’ve only been married a year, it’s too soon!

She let out a sigh. “Technically, I don’t know what’s going on.  I just have… growing suspicions.”  Peeking up at him, she met his eye, his expression softening.

“I see.”  Setting down his pen John removed his glasses, rubbing at his face for a moment before rising, coming around the corner of the table to kneel beside her.  “I realized yesterday, and… it’s more than a suspicion.”

“That’s what I get for marrying a doctor,” she joked weakly, rubbing her thumb along his jawline.  “I wasn’t… keeping it from you, I just… hadn’t faced it yet myself.”

Leaning up, he pressed a kiss to her cheek.  “Okay. I’ve already called us both off, so why don’t we lie down for a cuddle, and not talk about it?”

“Okay,” she agreed, heart filling with love for such a wonderful, understanding partner.  “I’m gonna finish this tea, first, though.”

“Absolutely.”  John stood, resting his hand on her back and offering her a small smile.  “The ginger will help with the nausea.  So will a nap.”

Deciding to bring the mug to the bedroom with her, she let him guide her into bed, curling up in his arms with her head on his chest and his hands on her belly.

-

Seven nausea-filled days later found them sitting in an exam room, Rose aggressively chewing on a piece of ginger candy as she sat on the table looking around.  John was seated on the guest chair, seemingly enthralled with a pamphlet, though his bouncing leg gave evidence to his own anxiety.

“Oi.”

He looked up, blinking. “Yeah?”

“Why ginger?”

“What d’you mean?”

She gestured with the bag of candy in her hand.  “Why does this supposedly help?”  With every minute they had to wait she was growing more nervous, and nothing distracted her the way her husband could when he fell into ‘professor mode’.

John immediately abandoned the pamphlet on the countertop, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees.  “Well, first, it’s a traditional remedy dating back thousands of years, mostly in India and Southeast Asia, where it grows naturally.  It’s fairly interesting actually – it helps with a number of ailments, and isn’t limited to the digestive tract.  Current thought is that it’s an anti-inflammatory and anti-oxidant, and can cure sickness from motion and chemotherapy, not just-” he paused to wave at her, but was prevented from continuing by a rap on the door followed by it opening.

“Good morning,” the doctor said brusquely, stepping in.  “Noble?”

“Yes,” they chorused, Rose adding, “I’m Rose, this is John.”

The doctor nodded, consulting the iPad in his hand.  “Great, I’m Doctor MacMartin.  So, I have your test results.”  He sat on the stool, setting down the tablet and looking at her for the first time. “You’re pregnant.”

Despite having spent the last week coming to terms with the idea, the confirmation knocked the breath from Rose’s lungs.  Pregnant. A baby.  She looked to John, who was silent, eyes wide and surprised but pleased, with a silly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  In response her own twitched, and suddenly they were beaming at each other, tears pricking at her eyes.

A baby.  A family.

And just like at the end of The Grinch, her heart expanded.

-

“I have literally never hated you more than I do at this moment.”

John, the bastard, had the gall to smirk, not pausing as he tucked her in.  “It’s just for two weeks,” he said cheerfully.  “Then our bundle of joy will be here, and you won’t want to get out of bed.  You should rest while you can.”

She huffed in response, folding her arms across her enormous belly.  At thirty-seven weeks she’d been placed on bed rest as a precaution, and two hours into it, she was already going mad.  John was fussing over her like a mother hen, and she already knew it would be worse when word spread and Donna and Jackie showed up to ‘help’. She was tired, and sore, and she hadn’t seen her feet in months, constant heartburn, and the most galling bit- “Why do you lie?”

“About what?”  Kicking his shoes off he settled himself next to her hip, one hand naturally settling to the bump and stroking, doing little to calm the rolling child within.

“‘Morning sickness’. More like ‘all day sickness’.  And why do you say it’s only during the first trimester?  Why am I still nauseous?  I mean, I know I haven’t actually been sick, but honestly, I don’t mind that so much- at least after I feel better, if only for a few minutes.  But there’s no relief!”

He clucked his tongue sympathetically, hand moving to caress her knee.  “I know it sucks, and you’ve had it rough.  But you’re doing brilliantly, really, and I’m so proud of you. You’re already such a great mum.” Leaning forward, he nabbed a ginger candy from the nightstand and handed it to her.  “Not much longer.”

“And to think, people say this is the easy part,” she muttered petulantly, unwrapping the candy and popping it in her mouth.  “I just wanna meet them.”  They’d decided, after weeks of squabbling, not to find out what they were having- the deciding factor had been when Pete had let slip Jackie’s plans for a gender reveal party, and Rose had put her foot down out of principle.

John was silent for a long minute, waiting out her sighing and grumbling until she settled.  “I know.  Me too. ��But for now, can I tempt you with a movie instead?”

“Don’t you have to go to work?”  Even as she said the words she reached for her mobile, pulling up Netflix to broadcast it to the telly he’d set up.

“Nah,” he said easily, moving to sit next to her, close enough they were touching from hip to thigh. “And, I had one in mind.”  Nabbing her mobile, he held it out of her reach, typing one-handed.

Moments later the telly flicked on, Netflix opening on the movie credits, and she gasped.  “Top Hat!  My favorite.”

“I know,” John said smugly, dropping the mobile on the bed in favor of taking her hand.  “I know you and your Mum have Cliff Richards movies, and I want us to have something similar with little Florence.”

“Not happening,” she didn’t glance at him.  “Ginger and Fred- yes.  Florence?  No. We’re not having a grandmother.” The baby kicked then, and she smiled down fondly at her stomach.  “Isn’t that right, little one?  Daddy’s just being silly, you’ll see, Earl.”

Her husband scoffed. “Is that a pun?  We are not name our child Earl Noble, Rose Tyler- talk about setting him up for failure!”

“Shush.  The movie’s starting.”

Grinning, they turned back to the show- neglecting the dancing on screen to focus instead on the movement of her belly, the child within dancing to the music far more interesting.

Two more weeks!

-

Fighting back a yawn, John made his way down the corridor to the waiting room, stopping just out of sight to take in the room.  Everyone they loved most was gathered there, scattered around in small groups.  At first glance the only person missing was his godson August, the baby likely with Martha’s parents; even Tony was there, though the six-year-old was asleep against his father.

It warmed his heart to see them all together, waiting, already loving the little life they didn’t know had arrived, and was currently be weighed and cleaned up.  Slipping his mobile from his pocket he took a picture of the group, wanting to capture this moment, show his child how loved they were from their first breath.

Taking the few steps needed to enter the room, he bit back a smile when no one looked up or registered his presence.  “You all waiting on someone?”

In seconds he had everyone’s full attention, eager eyes waiting with bated breath, and he knew he was failing to contain his joy as they gathered close, instantly dropping their newspapers and books and mobiles to focus on him.

“Well?!”  It was Tony who broke the silence, eyes still full of sleep, and John crouched down in front of him.

“C’mere, mate.”

The boy stepped closer, watching impatiently, little brow furrowing.  “Is my Rosie okay?”

“She is.”  John took a deep breath, nearly overwhelmed with the moment, and the weight of the words he was about to say.  “So’s your niece.”

The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop for one heart stopping moment; and then Jackie screamed “It’s a girl!” and everything devolved into chaos, as he was pulled in every direction for hugs, kisses, and congratulations.

“Wait!” Donna commanded, loud enough to be heard over the chatter, drawing everyone’s attention. “More information.  Is Rose okay?  What’s the baby’s name?  When can we see them?”

“Right.”  Still hugging Martha, somewhat leaning on her for support, he organized his thoughts.  “Rose is fine- a champ, of course, though she’s exhausted.  Baby’s good, big and healthy.  And you can see them in an hour or so.”

Martha poked him viciously in the side.  “And her name?”

His smile grew, thinking of his little girl – for so long she’d felt like an abstract concept, despite watching Rose’s belly grow and actively planning for her arrival.  But now she was here, and beautiful, and his heart was fully.  “Genevieve Amelia.  Jenny.”

This brought on more gushing, and far too many questions for his tired brain to track, much less comprehend or answer, until once again, his sister’s voice broke through.

“Who’s she look like?”

“Rose.”  He grinned; every baby he’d ever seen had just looked like a squirming blob, especially at only minutes old, but not his little girl- no, his daughter already looked so much like her mother it was uncanny. “But she’s got your hair.”

“Yes!” Donna crowed, clutching onto Lee’s arms.  “Another ginger!  We need more of them in this family, I always said that.  Does this mean I get first dibs on meeting her?”

This sparked a new, lively debate between Donna, Sylvia, and Jackie, John just shaking his head with a grin. Catching his grandfather’s eye he tilted his head slightly, before grabbing his brother-in-law’s hand and slipping away with a wink to Pete.

Everyone would have a chance to meet the baby, but they’d decided the oldest and youngest would have first dibs.

Overwhelmed by the urge to see Rose and Jenny, he quickened his step.

His family needed him.

[gendrya-gift-exchange]

Prompts for the Gendrya Gift Exchange have been assigned to creators. The Open Prompt List is now available for the third part of the event.

The prompt list has been updated with some new concepts for you to use to create whatever kind of fanwork you feel like making. Prompts that have been requested for the exchange have been removed to avoid a prompt being filled by more than one creator.

Anyone is welcome to use these ideas, but please credit the Gendrya Gift Exchange for the prompt. We’ll happily share works created around these concepts, just tag @gendrya-gift-exchange so we can reblog them. You’re welcome to post works based on these ideas at any time, you don’t have to wait for the posting period for the event.

Happy Creating!

Short Prompts

Stranded in the middle of nowhere

Attempting to throw a baby shower

Arya teaches Gendry to swim

Arya and Gendry are tricked into going to karaoke against their will

Laser tag: adrenaline, dark corners, and shooting people… but in a fun way!

Arya and Gendry visit a haunted house attraction at a theme park

A series of text conversations about a lost item of clothing

Gendry and Arya are moving in together, but moving day doesn’t go as planned

Gendry and Arya take the kids to visit Uncle Hot Pie

The Stark siblings sit Arya down to ask her whether she and Gendry are really ‘just friends’

Arya gets herself into more trouble than she can handle. She calls Gendry to help.

Dialogue Prompts

“Stop biting. You can’t leave any marks.”

“Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

“Huh. I was sure that would work.”

“I’d really rather have this conversation when we’re both sober.”

“I’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as when [he/she] broke that guy’s nose.”

“I’m not a thief, I’m just really good at acquiring things that aren’t mine.

“We’re your family and we love you. No matter what.”

“Of course I’m in love with [him/her] but [he/she] can’t know that.”

“No, I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.”

“Maybe this is what I deserve.”

“There was so much blood.”

“I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.”

“This war doesn’t end when the fighting stops.”

“I am the son of a king who forgot my name.”

“We only have one chance. Don’t miss.”  “I never miss.”

“I’d kill a thousand men before I let them take you from me again.”

Concept Prompts

Cops and Robbers Arya is a thief who steals from the rich and gives to the poor. Gendry is the cop/detective trying to put a stop to her ‘crimes’.

Winterfell Abbey Lord Stark and his family reside at Winterfell Abbey, ancestral home of the Earl of the North. When Gendry arrives to be the new chauffeur, the youngest Stark daughter takes a liking to him, despite their difference in status. (Based on Downton Abbey)

Room at the Inn Gendry is trying to help Arya get home to her family. Along the way they find a small inn they can stay at, but the owners clearly frown upon renting a room to an unwed couple. So, they pretend to be married for the night, and try to put on a convincing display for the innkeepers. (Based on a scene from the movie Leap Year)

Stark Family Circus Gendry has just been hired as a backstage crew member for the Winterfell Circus, owned and run but the Stark family for three generations. The small but feisty tightrope walker gets his attention.

Lifeguard Gendry is a lifeguard at the local pool. Every morning, Arya comes to swim laps before anyone else gets there. Gendry has no one to watch but her.

Con Artists Arya and Gendry make a great team when they’re pulling off a con, but neither of them can be sure if their romance is real, or if they’re being played. 

First Date When their eldest daughter is going on her first ever date, Arya and Gendry are reminded of what happened on their own first date, and how they finally ended up together.

Bachelorette Arya Stark comes from a well known family, so her relationships and breakups have always been splashed across the tabloids. She agreed to be the next bachelorette in the hopes of having some control over the publicity about her dating life this time around. She wasn’t expecting to meet a contestant like Gendry.

Fake Death Arya has to fake her death for a while to escape the people who are after her. Her family knows the truth, and they’re worried about how Gendry is handling it, and how he’ll react when he finds out she’s still alive.

Werewolf  Gendry has just been bitten by a werewolf, and Arya is tending to his wounds. They both know what this means for him. If they can’t find a cure within a month, he’ll turn at the next full moon.

Spectator Neither Arya nor Gendry are willing to give up control in the bedroom. When they can’t agree on whose turn it is to be in charge, they decide to ask someone else to watch while calling the shots for them.

Unfair Bet Gendry and Arya meet at a party. Arya’s friends bet her she can’t seduce Gendry within a month. Gendry’s friends bet him he can’t hold off sleeping with Arya for a month. Neither of them realise their friends are in on the bets together, pitting them against each other.

Quotes

The king now lies on a bed of stone, without a crown, without a home Caitlin Miller

Death is the only god who comes when you call Roger Zelazny

Have we not lips to kiss with, hearts to love, and eyes to see Oscar Wilde

If they stand behind you, protect them If they stand beside you, respect them If they stand in front of you, watch their back But if they stand against you, show them no mercy Unknown

Got nowhere to be ‘cause the world don’t know where we are Say Love – James TW

We don’t own our heavens now  We only own our hell And if you don’t know that by now Then you don’t know me that well Buy the Stars – Marina and the Diamonds

Holiday Prompts

Every year, Arya and Gendry try to embarrass each other by giving inappropriate/suggestive gifts

Arya and Gendry have both been roped in to participating in the local community holiday pageant

Gendry doesn’t have any family to spend the holidays with, so Arya brings him back to Winterfell. Arya’s never brought anyone home, and the Starks aren’t convinced that they’re just friends.

Secret Sansa Sansa organises a Secret Santa exchange for all the Stark siblings and their friends. She decides to rig the draw so that Arya and Gendry pull each other’s names, in the hopes that they might finally realise their feelings for each other. She recruits others to help with her plan.

Southern Holiday Everyone’s taking a trip to Australia (or Sothoryos) for the holidays. Unfortunately they all seem to have forgotten that in that part of the world, the holiday season is in the middle of summer. Some of them find interesting ways to cope with the heat, and some of them… don’t.

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[wayward-wayfinder]

“You could talk about it, you know?”

Prompt number: 20

Fandom: All For The Game / The Foxhole

Rating: G

Warnings/Tags: N/A

Now on AO3!

Matt set the cup of earl grey tea down in front of Neil, sat beside him, and waited.

He didn’t particularly like the fact that he was used to this, that he knew what to do when Neil woke up and stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. When he didn’t start getting ready for class, even after his warning alarm started ringing. When Matt said his name and Neil refused to answer.

Sometimes, Neil woke up in the morning and everything was fine. He was Neil Josten, striker for the Palmetto Foxes, Matt’s room mate and friend. Sometimes, though, Neil woke up and he was none of those things, face blank and emotions tucked far away inside a place Matt couldn’t reach. 

It was always difficult, when Neil was like that. Matt couldn’t really do anything, but Neil had grabbed his wrist the first time and whispered not to tell Andrew and Matt would much rather die than betray Neil’s fragile trust. So he always did the next best thing to calling Andrew that he could, bundling his friend in five different blankets and sitting him in the small kitchen shared between the floor after making sure Minyard had left for classes. Neil liked tea, Matt knew that from the ever-appearing boxes that appeared on Neil’s desk in their room, usually scrawled with some message in a sharp hand, and so that is what Matt always made him.

“You could talk about it, you know that, right?” Neil lifted his eyes for the first time since he woke up to look at Matt, who smiled encouragingly. “I don’t… I won’t understand everything that you’ve gone through. I can’t, really, but I can always listen, Neil. Sometimes that just helps, you know?”

Neil was still looking at him, eyes carefully blank, but this time at least Matt could see tiny cracks in Neil’s facade. They were in the way his eyebrows drew together just slightly, creating a wrinkle that Matt wanted to smooth out with his thumb. After a minute, though, Neil nodded and picked up his now-cool tea to take a small, careful sip.

That was progress, something that Matt would take home as a win. His fingers itched to text Dan about the improvement, but he forced himself to stay at the table and drink his coffee, chattering on about his classes while Neil silently listened (or not, Matt could never really tell when he was in this state, but he figured the voice of another, friendly person was something that always helped).

He had just started moaning about his upcoming midterm in chemistry when Neil opened his mouth. Matt immediately shut up, masking it with a deep breath and a sip of coffee, just in case Neil was spooked by the idea of interrupting.

“Sometimes,” Neil started, then swallowed hard. Matt could almost see his brain working, and took another sip of coffee before nodding Neil along. “Sometimes I wake up, and Lola is there.”

Matt frowned, setting down his mug to tap the table in front of Neil, getting his attention. “Like, she’s in the room? You see her in the room?” He didn’t think that there had been anything in their room that could have been mistaken for a person, but maybe he didn’t consider a jacket slung over the closet door, or what if he left his towel hanging on the doorknob and it was his fault that this was happening, because he didn’t pay enough attention–

Neil nodded, then shook his head in frustration. “No, not exactly. It’s like I can’t move, like sleep paralysis or something, and she’s just there, in the corner of the room. Staring at me and smiling.” He ground his teeth, knuckles white around his cup of tea, and Matt stopped the train wreck of his thoughts to reach over and gently pry his friend’s hands open before he shattered the glass and hurt himself. “I don’t know why it happens, like yesterday was perfectly fine! I don’t know why I can’t just get over it, why I’m so–”

Weak. Matt heard the word, even as Neil refused to say it. 

The silence was oppressive, hanging over them like a dark cloud. Matt didn’t know what to do; this seemed like something that Andrew would have known how to handle, but Neil didn’t want to involve him, and Matt would respect that. Neil looked blank again, almost deflated in the mass of blankets heaped around his shoulders, smaller than usual. He looked… Matt would have thought ‘vulnerable’ but that didn’t seem to fit. He looked exhausted and strung out, but there was something made of steel that lurked behind Neil’s eyes.

“I don’t think that you’re weak, Neil.” Matt held up his hand when Neil made an affronted noise. “No, listen, we both know that’s what you were going to say. And I don’t think that you believe that. I don’t believe it. You’re strong, Neil. You have to be, to survive what you did. And you’re still here! You see Lola, but which one of you is dead?”

Matt counted the thoughtful look as a win, even as Neil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not weak, Neil,” he repeated quietly.

“I feel like I am,” Neil admitted, voice strained and Matt knew what it had cost him to say the words. “They’re dead but how? My uncle? There was nothing I could do but wait as someone else did all of the work.”

It was hard to keep the frustration from his voice, but Matt squashed it down because it wouldn’t help either of them if Neil though Matt he was mad at him. He didn’t understand how Neil couldn’t see that he wasn’t some fragile plate made of china, he was a Fox and he was strong. But it wasn’t his job to understand, it was his job to convince Neil that he was wrong. “From what you’ve said, Neil, that’s his job. Killing people. You, on the other hand, aren’t even twenty and play exy in college. I feel like there’s a world of difference between those two things, you know?”

Neil didn’t look totally convinced, looking at Matt skeptically over the rim of his cup, but at least he wasn’t emotionless and silent anymore. Matt would count that as a success. 

The clock showed eleven, which meant that Matt had missed his only class of the day, so he stretched his arms up high, cracking his back loud enough that Neil gave him an admiring glance. “Want to watch movies until someone else gets back?”

With a nod, Neil drained his tea cup, getting up to set it in the sink on his way out the door. He paused, just for a second, refusing to turn his face towards Matt. “Thanks,” he said, quickly before darting out of sight, no doubt going back to finally change out of his pajamas even though he was wearing the ones Allison had gifted, patterned with foxes and completely adorable in Matt’s opinion. 

Matt’s ego wasn’t so big that he thought that their conversation had cured Neil. He was sure that eventually, Neil would wake up and instead of wishing Matt good morning he would stare up at his ceiling with blank, unseeing eyes. It only mattered that Matt was able to draw him out of his shell, bring him back to the real world, banish imaginary Lolas.

[salems-varieties]

Anime for Halloween

I should have posted this before my movies list. But hell, It’s here now and Y’all can binge-watch over the next month. But little disclaimer. These are anime I have seen and ones I associate with Halloween because they have to do with something from the holiday. So anything with Vampires, witches, demons, etc. Anything I got a Halloween-y vibe from. This list is gonna be kind of long. Now time for me to suffer typing it and yall to get an idea from reading it. 

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Title

Synopsis

My thoughts on the Anime

Everything in bold is strictly my opinion. Agree to disagree with me, and put down your own opinion in repost or in the comments but be respectful. Rude or anything of the sort will be deleted or reported depending on the severity.

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07-Ghost

Teito Klein, a student at the academy, is one of the most promising soldiers produced. Although ridiculed by everyone for being a sklave (German for slave) with no memories of his past, he is befriended by a fellow student called Mikage. While preparing for the final exam, Teito uncovers a dark secret related to his past. When an attempt to assassinate Ayanami, a high-ranking official who killed his father, fails, Teito is locked away awaiting punishment.

This one is religious, HOWEVER, Demons and the Gods of Death kinda make it more Halloween-y so :p Also as a side note; It’s only subbed so all y’all who prefer dub are gonna be disappointed.

Ancient Magus Bride

Chise Hatori, a 15-year-old Japanese girl, was sold for five million pounds at an auction to a tall masked gentleman. Abandoned at a young age and ridiculed by her peers for her unconventional behavior, she was ready to give herself to any buyer if it meant having a place to go home to. In chains and on her way to an unknown fate, she hears whispers from robed men along her path, gossiping and complaining that such a buyer got his hands on a rare "Sleigh Beggy." Ignoring the murmurs, the mysterious man leads the girl to a study, where he reveals himself to be Elias Ainsworth—a magus. After a brief confrontation and a bit of teleportation magic, the two open their eyes to Elias' picturesque cottage in rural England. Greeted by fairies and surrounded by weird and wonderful beings upon her arrival, these events mark the beginning of Chise's story as the apprentice and supposed bride of the ancient magus.

I love this one so much. My only issue is what would have made it more Halloween inspired would have been if they’s gone through Samhain and not skipped straight to Yule. BUT monsters, mages, witches, alchemists, and fae make this anime perfect for magic inspire Halloween watch.

Another

In 1972, a popular student in Yomiyama North Middle School's class 3-3 named Misaki passed away during the school year. Since then, the town of Yomiyama has been shrouded by a fearful atmosphere, from the dark secrets hidden deep within.

Horror, horror, horror and gore. Enjoy this with friends and family who have a strong stomach and are old enough to not get scared. The deaths are absolutely horrific and it takes place all around a middle school class. (Read the novel, of the same name, it’s based off if you dare)

Ao no Exorcist

Humans and demons are two sides of the same coin, as are Assiah and Gehenna, their respective worlds. The only way to travel between the realms is by the means of possession, like in ghost stories. However, Satan, the ruler of Gehenna, cannot find a suitable host to possess and therefore, remains imprisoned in his world. In a desperate attempt to conquer Assiah, he sends his son instead, intending for him to eventually grow into a vessel capable of possession by the demon king.

Anyone who’s been around anime long enough knows or knows of this anime. Who wouldn’t have added this into their Halloween Anime list? It has to do with Demons and the Son of Satan.

Black Butler  

Young Ciel Phantomhive is known as "the Queen's Guard Dog," taking care of the many unsettling events that occur in Victorian England for Her Majesty. Aided by Sebastian Michaelis, his loyal butler with seemingly inhuman abilities, Ciel uses whatever means necessary to get the job done. But is there more to this black-clad butler than meets the eye?

Classic as well. Don’t forget the movies and season 3. We don’t speak of season 2 0.0″ Also the manga has taken a VERY dark turn as of recent so if you’re looking for reading material, there you go.

Blood-C 

Peaceful schoolgirl by day, fearsome monster slayer by night, Saya Kisaragi is leading a split life. Equipped with a ceremonial sword given to her by her father for sacred tasks, she vanquishes every monster who dares threaten her quiet little village. But all too soon, Saya's reality and everything she believes to be true is tested, when she overhears the monsters speak of a broken covenant—something she knows nothing about. And then, unexpectedly, a strange dog appears; it asks her to whom she promised to protect the village, curious as to what would happen if she were to break that promise. Tormented by unexplainable visions and her world unraveling around her, we travel with Saya through her struggle to find a way to the truth in a village where nothing is as it seems.

Another very gory anime. Children, please do avoid.

Bloodivores

60 years ago, a strange case of insomnia struck the population, forcing them to stay awake for more than a full week. The victims, completely sleep deprived, all went mad. To cure this illness, a new medicine was produced, but the side effects turned the patients into vampires. Humanity went to war against this new species and triumphed, but some of the vampires managed to survive. Born from a Human and a Vampire, the main character Mi Liu, "The Child of Hope," is to represent the new hope that will connect the two species. Ringleader of a bank robbery, Mi Liu is arrested and transferred to a special prison of the National Defense Agency that monitors Vampires.

Genetically created vampires. Need I say more?

Blood Lad

Staz Charlie Blood is a powerful vampire who rules the Eastern district of Demon World. According to rumors, he is a bloodthirsty and merciless monster, but in reality, Staz is just an otaku obsessed with Japanese culture and completely uninterested in human blood. Leaving the management of his territory to his underlings, Staz spends his days lazing around, indulging in anime, manga, and games.

A vampire otaku... Thank you, this is exactly what I needed. 

D.Gray-Man

Losing a loved one is so painful that one may sometimes wish to be able to resurrect them—a weakness that the enigmatic Millennium Earl exploits. To make his mechanical weapons known as "Akuma," he uses the souls of the dead that are called back. Once a soul is placed in an Akuma, it is trapped forever, and the only way to save them is to exorcise them from their vessel using the Anti-Akuma weapon, "Innocence."

*Piece of advice. D. Gray-Man the first series was not finished in Dub if you’re one who prefers Dub. So heading into D. Gray-Man Hollow, you’ll be confused as hell. It’s best to just watch Sub so you don’t have to worry about missing a huge chunk of info. 

But if you like anime about demons and exorcists there’s more than just Blue Exorcist. This one I suggest because it’s phenomenal, but that’s personal opinion XD

Dance with Devils

Ritsuka Tachibana has always been a good student, so she is completely shocked when she is suddenly summoned by the student council. Even more, they seem to think of Ritsuka as a troublemaker. Led by the handsome Rem Kaginuki, the student council—also consisting of Urie Sogami, Shiki Natsumizaka, and Mage Nanashiro—tries to question her, but it soon becomes clear that they have ulterior motives.

This is one based off an Otome (Dating game) so try YT for gameplay if you wanna see the whole story. Yet another about demons and exorcists, but this time there are vampires and Cerberus added to the mix. Plus for those who know-how Otome heroines are basically pushovers, this one has a strong-willed girl as our protagonist. Thank you, Ritsuka for breaking the mold T/\T

Diabolik Lovers

At the behest of her father, Yui Komori goes to live in a secluded mansion, home to the six Sakamaki brothers—Shuu, Reiji, Ayato, Kanato, Laito, and Subaru—a family of vampires. Though at first the siblings are confused as to why the girl has arrived, they soon realize that she is to be their new "sacrificial bride," not to mention their other, more carnal intentions for her. After meeting the brothers, Yui quickly begins to question why her father would have sent her here and why she feels a strange, new pain in her chest. With each brother more sadistic than the last, Yui's life as a captive takes a harrowing turn in her new home. As her days turn into endless nights, and each brother vows to make her his own, Yui falls deeper and deeper into madness and ecstasy.

Otome with like 4? games, try YT for gameplay. I’m a little sad that it only has two seasons and the episodes are like 13-15 minutes long. Still, if you like Otome based games, you’ve most likely seen this. DO NOT EXPECT VANILLA ROMANCE. THIS IS NOT A FUN RIDE IF YOU EXPECT THAT.

Death Note

A shinigami, as a god of death, can kill any person—provided they see their victim's face and write their victim's name in a notebook called a Death Note. One day, Ryuk, bored by the shinigami lifestyle and interested in seeing how a human would use a Death Note, drops one into the human realm.

Classic... But not my personal cup of tea. I added it because it’s a salute to one of my dear friends.

Little Witch Academia

"A believing heart is your magic!"—these were the words that Atsuko "Akko" Kagari's idol, the renowned witch Shiny Chariot, said to her during a magic performance years ago. Since then, Akko has lived by these words and aspired to be a witch just like Shiny Chariot, one that can make people smile. Hence, even her non-magical background does not stop her from enrolling in Luna Nova Magical Academy.

This one is just cute and intense. Witches are starting to die out but one girl wants desperately to be a witch like her idol was. I love how this brings in witchy elements and some fairy tale elements.

Makai Ouji: Devils and Realist

The story revolves around William, an aristocratic family's progeny with rare intellect. One day, his uncle lost his possessions after his business failed. Fearing that his family's name has been tarnished, William returns home and searches with his family's butler for anything that can be converted into cash. A search of the premises yields an underground room left by an ancestor. In the room is a magical seal, and William unintentionally summons a devil. The summoned devil tells William his name Dantalion and reveals that William is the designator who can choose the acting ruler of the demon world.

If realists were like William, I think the world would be on fire. The poor people that have to deal with him. At least most of them are demons, maybe that will knock his head into gear... right?

Miira No Kaikata 

High school student Sora Kashiwagi is accustomed to receiving bizarre presents from his father, who is on an expedition around the world. Unfortunately, these gifts have been nothing but nightmares. As a result, when his father sends him a huge package from Egypt, Sora prepares himself for the worst, only to be greeted by Mii-kun—a cute, pint-sized mummy! While initially wary, Sora soon learns that Mii-kun is harmless, a delicate creature yearning for attention.

I can understand people who don’t like horror or gore. I was there once. So here’s a cute anime about a boy and his pet mummy. Sanrio really did a great job turning the manga, which was darker than the anime, into something so cute and so wholesome.

Mirai Nikki

Lonely high school student, Yukiteru Amano, spends his days writing a diary on his cellphone while conversing with his two seemingly imaginary friends Deus Ex Machina, who is the god of time and space, and Murmur, the god's servant. Revealing himself to be an actual entity, Deus grants Yukiteru a "Random Diary," which shows highly descriptive entries based on the future and forces him into a bloody battle royale with 11 other holders of similarly powerful future diaries.

I have no word on this.

Owari no Seraph

With the appearance of a mysterious virus that kills everyone above the age of 13, mankind becomes enslaved by previously hidden, power-hungry vampires who emerge in order to subjugate society with the promise of protecting the survivors, in exchange for donations of their blood.

The Apocolypse starts and vampires rule the world. I dunno if that sounds like heaven or hell for me? But in this world, it would certainly be hell. Vampires rule the world but that doesn't mean the humans are gone. An army rises to protect what’s left from the bloodsuckers. And did I mention demons? Along with the concept of corrupt angels? Oh yeah, that’s gotta be hell on earth.

Pandora Hearts

To young Oz Vessalius, heir to the Vessalius Duke House, the perilous world called the Abyss is nothing more than a folktale used to scare misbehaving children. However, when Oz's coming-of-age ceremony is interrupted by the malicious Baskerville Clan intent on banishing him into the depths of the Abyss, the Vessalius heir realizes that his peaceful life of luxury is at its end. Now, he must confront the world of the Abyss and its dwellers, the monstrous "Chains," which are both not quite as fake as he once believed.

I couldn't have found a better gif for this anime. It’s Alice in Wonderland inspired but with a much darker twist than what Disney gave us (and yes I do mean both the original and the Tim Burton version). Enjoy this one because it’s not all dark there is humor to break up the heart-wrenching. But don’t expect it to always be comical. 

Phantom in the Twilight

Set in modern-day London, the story takes place in a world where "Shadows" are born from human fear and anxiety. A young girl arrives to study abroad, only to be caught in a bizarre incident as she enters university. In a city with no acquaintances, the helpless girl wanders into "Café Forbidden," a mysterious café that exclusively opens at midnight. She meets an assortment of handsome men employed at the café, where guardians who protect the boundary between humans and shadow convene

Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and even demons; this one would be great for Halloween. I will admit though, it’s lackluster considering these guys are supposed to be Dracula, the Wolfman, and so on. It might be someone’s cup of tea, just not everyone’s 

Rosario to Vampire

Youkai Academy is a seemingly normal boarding school, except that its pupils are monsters learning to coexist with humans. All students attend in human form and take normal academic subjects, such as literature, gym, foreign language, and mathematics. However, there is one golden rule at Youkai Academy—all humans found on school grounds are to be executed immediately!

I couldn’t get through this one. I’m not gonna lie. It was basically light hentai and I’m not into that kinda stuff, but I feel like someone would have called me out for it not being here so T-T

Servamp 

Mahiru Shirota firmly believes that simple is best and troublesome things should be avoided at all costs. It is troublesome to do nothing and regret it later—and this ideology has led the 15-year-old to pick up a stray cat on his way home from school. As he affectionately names the feline Kuro, little does he know that this chance meeting will spark an extraordinary change in his everyday life.

I’m gonna be completely honest, the manga was better. I love the anime don’t get me wrong. I’ve rewatched it many times. But it cut out so much from the manga. So as an anime, watch it first before reading the manga, then go back and nitpick. If you do it the other way around you may be more disappointed.

Soul Eater

Death City is home to the famous Death Weapon Meister Academy, a technical academy headed by the Shinigami—Lord Death himself. Its mission: to raise "Death Scythes" for the Shinigami to wield against the many evils of their fantastical world. These Death Scythes, however, are not made from physical weapons; rather, they are born from human hybrids who have the ability to transform their bodies into Demon Weapons, and only after they have consumed the souls of 99 evil beings and one witch's soul. This one is perfect for Halloween with it’s dark but funny themes. If you prefer the cutesier stuff like I do sometimes try Soul Eater NOT! The concept of soul-eating monsters and a school that teaches teens to fight and destroy them, A+ content. Plus some of those teens turn into actual weapons. Where is my sign up sheet? I would gladly take that over normal boring high school. Also add the grim reaper into the mix then give him a funny voice and disposition. Gold I tell ya.

Togainu no Chi

In the wake of a third world war that left Japan in ruins, an organization known as Vischio seized control of Tokyo and renamed it Toshima. Taking place in its back alleys are battle games known as Igura, overseen by the Vischio, in which contestants battle and bathe in each other's blood to earn the chance to go up against its tournament's king, Il-re.

This one is for all my lovely fujoshi/fudanshi peoples. It’s a dark anime and based off a rated M, BL Otome. Sinners welcome.

Tokyo Ghoul

Tokyo has become a cruel and merciless city—a place where vicious creatures called “ghouls�� exist alongside humans. The citizens of this once great metropolis live in constant fear of these bloodthirsty savages and their thirst for human flesh. However, the greatest threat these ghouls pose is their dangerous ability to masquerade as humans and blend in with society.

This one is mainstream for a reason. It’s a good story, anime or manga. Mainly manga. Anyway, I haven’t seen Re yet, but I’ve heard it’s sheit. Still gonna watch it though cause why the hell not.

Uragiri wa Boku no Namae wo Shitteiru

Growing up as an orphan, Yuki Sakurai questions his reason for living and the ability to see a person's painful memory by simply touching them. After receiving anonymous notes telling him to die, Yuki is unable to shake off the nagging feeling forming inside of him. Unbeknownst to him, he is being watched, both by people who want to harm him and those who want to protect him.

Reincarnation from a girl to a boy and the girl had a hot lover that is now with her male reincarnation. And the lover is a vampire. Man, that’s confusing but the story is good. I have yet to read the manga. The anime was great from what I can remember, so give it a shot. It’s another BL anime, so proceed with caution.

Vampire Knight

Cross Academy is an elite boarding school with two separate, isolated classes: the Day Class and the Night Class. On the surface, Yuuki Cross and Zero Kiryuu are prefects of the academy and attempt to keep order between the students as classes rotate in the evenings. As the Night Class is full of utterly gorgeous elites, this can sometimes prove to be a bit difficult. It is completely necessary, however, as those "elites" are actually vampires. Yuuki and Zero act as guardians, protecting the secrets of the Night Class and the safety of their ignorant morning counterparts.

If twilight was an anime, but Bella and Edward were siblings and Jacob was another vampire. This is not a great anime but let's face it, some of us watched it as preteens, enjoyed it, and were head over heels for Zero and/or Kaname. It’s a trash anime, but great for those who are 21 and over. Do I hear drinking games, anyone?

All synopsis came from My Anime List (where the links take you). Also, I’m sorry it’s a lot to read, I just didn’t want to cut them down. Feel free to add what you think should have been on here, or what you think is a Halloween favorite on reposts. Comments are welcome and have a happy spooky season!

[ozma914]

Your Own Anti-Anxiety Advocate

I was rather anxious about something the other day, and when I   mentioned it to my wife, she told me I was suffering from anxiety.

Well, yeah. And poor people are suffering from a lack of money.

What  she meant was anxiety disorder, a disorder that can make people   anxious. Several years ago I was diagnosed with Seasonal Affected   Disorder,  a disorder that affected me in the winter season. See,   medical stuff isn't really all that complicated, once you diagnose the   names.

You know nothing, Mark Snow.

Emotional  problems have a stigma--the idea that maybe it's not a medical thing, but somehow  your fault for being weak, or complaining too much, or   maybe watching too much "Housewives of" programming. Okay, maybe that   last is a personal fault. But if you have a real problem, you should be able to talk it out.

One thing that could make anxiety  disorder worse is getting anxious about it. So best to just tackle the  issue, find out if you have it, and deal. I turned, as most people do in  these important moments, to the internet.

I have to  admit, I was fixated on the outcome of my investigation. That's why I  wasn't surprised when I found a list of common symptoms, which started  with a fixation on the outcome of events.

What  could have caused this with me? Well, as of this month I've earned full  retirement from my 911 dispatching career, but I wanted to make enough  money writing to supplement my income after that. In other words, I  wanted to retire so I could write full time, but I'm not making enough  money writing to retire. As that time neared, I became more and more  fixated on it. Thus, anxiety.

Second on the list was restlessness and difficulty concentrating.  Here on the written page, where I can edit to my heart's content before  hitting "publish", I seem fairly put-together. In reality, I kept  getting distracted by puppy videos, chocolate snacks, and winter storm  warnings.

Yes, I'm aware winter storm warnings might contribute to my anxiety.

Third, problems with decision making. I don't think I'm indecisive. Well. Sometimes, maybe. Or maybe not. I'm not really sure. Maybe you should ask my wife.

Next: Worrying about anxiety  or, in a nutshell, worrying about worrying. People who know they're   suffering from anxiety often get anxious about it, which is--let's face it--what led me to this point to begin with. It's a vicious cycle, like  weekly lawn mowing, or Congress.

Five, mental stress can wreck you physically.  Fatigue, irritability, headaches, all the things I thought came from   taking 911 calls for a living, may actually be caused by the anxiety I   experience after taking 911 calls for a living. It's a fine line. Also   on the list are being easily startled, frequent aches and pains, and   throwing things at the TV whenever adds for "The Bachelor" come on.

Next: Sweating, which is followed by shortness of breath and palpitations.

Ah--those I don't have! I'm cured! I never had a problem to begin with! Put that in your cigar and smoke it, Sigmund.

Next is insomnia.  Got you there, too. I usually have no problems at all falling asleep, especially after taking my bedtime meds, which cause drowsiness and I   think I just figured out why they're to be taken at bedtime. Sure, I   sometimes wake up just a few hours later and have trouble getting to   sleep again, and sure, only about half of people with general anxiety   disorder report sleep problems, but oh, shut up.

Irrational fears.  I'm not sure about this one. Define irrational. Do I fear machines   taking over the world? Yes, I do, but the other day I asked Siri for   directions and she said "don't worry, we'll find you" ... so I really don't think it's so irrational.

Luckily I never do anything scary, like public speaking.

I also have a fear that no one will ever  read my books, because so many people have stopped reading that there  are more writers than readers, and the writers don't have time to read.  I'm not so sure that's irrational, either.

There are  similar symptoms, such as fatigue, irritability, and feelings of  impending doom, all of which I have, but in all fairness this country is  locked in a 24/7 election cycle--even though we just keep electing the  same morons back into office, anyway. Is there anyone who's not irritable?

I  found the list of treatments for anxiety interesting. Sunlight? All for  it. Warm baths? An excellent idea. So is lowing caffeine intake, and  I'll get back to you as soon as I retire from my third shift job. Then  there's exercise, but no treatment plan is perfect.

Dietary  modifications are important, and also easy: Just stop eating everything  you like, and start eating everything you don't. Increase your intake  of something called superfoods, which have lots of vitamins, minerals,  and fiber. By sticking strictly to superfoods you're bound to lose  weight, because you'll no longer be interesting in your meals. Anybody  want a nice avocado? Me neither.

Essential oils are  also supposed to help, specifically lavender oil. The way I see it,  what's the harm of trying? It smells nice. I tried the same thing with  chocolate aroma therapy, but the scent goes away quickly once you eat  those candles.

Maybe  I could make a tea out of the lilac bushes in my back yard, bathe in   the tea while breathing deeply, then drink it. Maybe not that last one.

Finally we have tea, which I thought was a great idea. "Earl Grey," I told my wife. "Hot."

She  patted me on the shoulder and said, "You just have fun making that",   which I must say increased my anxiety. But that wouldn't help anyway,   because apparently the stress-fighting tea of choice is Chamomile. Have you tried it? Doesn't taste like tea. Maybe I can combine it with Earl Grey.

In the end it's modern life that causes much of  our anxiety. But it's also modern life that keeps us so happily modern,  so I'll avoid the Amish solution. As for the rest, I'll keep you  updated, now that I've become an anti-anxiety avocado advocate.

(And yes, I went to the doctor about it. I'm now stressed about being on another med. For stress.)

Meanwhile,  as I go down the line and check yes on almost all the boxes, there's   something calming just having a name to put on the problem. Yes, blaming  all the stupid people in the world has a certain therapeutic effect,   but the difference is you can treat anxiety disorder; stupid people   aren't going anywhere.

[purplecloaks]

Custom Made, Part Twenty-Six

Ragnar x OC, Bjorn x OC

Everything tag: @squirrelacorngliterfarts

Custom made tag: @kingbouji3

           I go with Aslaug to greet the warriors who have come back from the raid. Bjorn passes us, supporting Porunn. I reach out my hand to help but Bjorn brushes me off.

           “She will be alright.” He says. He walks away with her.

           I look for Ragnar and see him and Athelstan supporting a shield maiden. He leans the shield maiden on Athelstan and comes towards us. When he reaches me, he pulls me in for a desperate kiss. It makes me weak. He then turns to Aslaug.

           “Where are my sons?” He asks.

           “I have something to tell you.” She says. Before Ragnar came back, I told Aslaug she has to be the one to tell him what happened. My punishment to her.

           I hear Rollo calling for Siggy and my heart breaks.

           Ragnar grabs Aslaug’s wrist and says “I said, where are my sons?”

           Rollo walks by us. I reach my hand out and stop him. He looks at me confused.

           “Where is Siggy? I cannot find her.” Rollo says.

           “Rollo…Siggy is dead.” Aslaug says.

           He pauses for a moment. “How?” His tone is harsh.

           “Ubbe and Hvitserk fell through the ice into a frozen lake. Siggy saved their lives but she drowned. And we could not find the body.” Aslaug says. I feel the anger rolling off of Ragnar.

           “The gods are mistaken.” Rollo says.

           “No, the gods are never mistaken.” Floki says, coming up behind us.

           Ragnar moves in front of Rollo.

           “This is my fault.” Rollo says.

           Ragnar shakes his head.

           “I…I did not treat her well. It’s the truth. You all know it. This is my fault.” Rollo’s voice breaks on the last part. He turns and leaves.

           Ragnar goes after him. I quickly follow. He calls out for Rollo. Aslaug comes up behind us.

           “Why was Siggy taking care of our children?” He asks.

           “We were taking it in turns. That day it just happened to be Siggy. On another day it could’ve been me.” Helga says coming up behind Aslaug.

           “I wasn’t asking you, Helga. I was asking you.” Ragnar looks towards Aslaug.

           “Helga is right. We women took it in turn to care for all our children.” Aslaug says and then brushes part Ragnar.

           “See, I find that funny considering that Siggy’s children are dead.” Ragnar follows her and I follow him.

           “I must go see Porunn.” Aslaug says and leaves.

           Ragnar turns to me. “Tell me what happened.”

           “She left constantly.” I whisper.

           “Why?” He grabs my wrist.

           “A man came. Harbard. He seemed to take Ivar’s pains away but I know in my heart he was cursing my sweet love. I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen.” I tell him softly.

           Anger rolls around him.

           “Did she have sex with him?” He asks.

           “I think so.” I cup his face in my hands and kiss him softly.

           Later on, I sit on the bed, watching Ragnar.

           “Why did you leave Siggy to look after my sons?” He asks.

           “I told you.” Aslaug says.

           “Why did the boys walk over a frozen lake? What do you think made them do it?” He asks.

           “They are curious. Just like their father.” Aslaug says.

           I scoff.

           Aslaug walks over to where Ragnar is sitting.

           “Is that all?” Ragnar asks.

           “What else can I tell you?” She leans down on her knees and cups his face. She kisses him but he stands.

           “Don’t you want to have sex?” Aslaug asks.

           He walks away.

           “What is it? You had so much sex in England you don’t need it?” She yells.

           Later on, I sit in Lagertha’s lap by the hearth. Athelstan, Floki, and Helga are with us.

           “Perhaps more of our people can go and join the settlement.” Lagertha says.

           “Yes! They can go and work for a Christian king, in a Christian country!” Floki laughs. “Perhaps they can also become Christians! Why not?”

           “Whatever they choose to do will be up to them.” Athelstan says.

           “Who asked you, priest?” Floki says quickly.

Helga smacks him. “Floki!” She chides.

“What? He is a Christian. He’s always been a Christian. I don’t know why Ragnar listens to him.” Floki says.

“Shut up Floki.” I say.

“Thank you Ingrid.” Athelstan nods towards me. “It’s true. I don’t know why Ragnar listens to me. Not when he can listen to you, Floki!” He stands. “Good night. May the gods keep you.” He leaves.

           Suddenly I get shoved off. “Bjorn!” Lagertha says. She stands. I stand too when I see his face.

           “What?” He says.

           “What do you mean ‘what’? What happened to you?” Lagertha asks.

           “What happened to your face?” I quickly make my way over to him and try to pull his face towards me to look at it. He brushes me off.

           “I got into a fight with my uncle.” Bjorn says.

           “You fought with Rollo?” Floki asks.

           “I wanted to stop them killing him.” Bjorn says.

           “I don’t understand.” Lagertha says.

           I try again to pull his face to me. He gives me a quick kiss and pulls out of my grasp.

           “It doesn’t matter.” Bjorn says.

           “Are you going to see Porunn?” Lagertha asks.

           “No. She does not want to see me. If she needs me, she will tell me. She’s a woman not a child.” He says. “Good night.” He leaves.

           I sit down by the hearth again.

           “What are you hiding?” Floki asks Helga. “I’m not a fool, Helga. Something happened here when we were away. Something happened that led to the death of Siggy.”

           Helga looks over at me and I nod, encouraging her.

           “A wanderer came here. We had all dreamed of him. Aslaug, Siggy, and me. He said his name was Harbard. And he possessed some gifts.” Helga says. I scoff at the last part. “He told stories, and he could cure people. He cured Ivar of his pains.”

           “His name was Harbard?” Floki asks.

           “Yes. That is what he said.” Helga says.

           “And what else did he do? This Harbard?” Floki asks.

           “Cursed my sweet Ivar.” I say. They ignore me.

           “He seduced Aslaug. She slept with him. It was because of him that she was not looking after the children.” Helga continues.

           “And this…he said his name was Harbard? Are you sure he said that?” Floki asks.

           “Yes, he said that. But what does it matter? He took Aslaug away from the children. It’s his fault that Siggy died.” Helga says.

           “No. Not his fault. Her fault, your fault, everyone’s fault.” Floki says.

           “What do you mean?” I ask.

           “You frighten me.” Helga says.

           “Harbard is not a human being. Harbard is a god. He came to visit. And such a visit must always be celebrated.” Floki says. I wrinkle my nose.

           “Even if it leads to death?” Helga asks.

           “If it leads to death, it also leads to life. That is the way with the gods. That is what Ragnar must understand.” Floki says.

           I’ve heard enough then and stand quickly and leave.

           Later, I am with Lagertha talking to some shield maidens. Well, I’m not talking, Lagertha is. I just hold Lagertha’s hand.

           “Earl Ingstad, we just heard of your return.” Says a messenger coming up behind us. We turn towards him. “There is some news. Your properties, your lands, your Earldom…all have been usurped.” I cover my mouth with my unoccupied hand.

           “Say again!” Lagertha demands.

           “It’s the truth!” The messenger says. “You have been removed from power.” She lets go of my hand and starts toward him. “Forgive me. I am only the messenger.”\

           “Who has done this? Who has usurped me?” She asks.

           “Kalf.”

           “Kalf.” She gasps. “That’s impossible.”

           “And yet it has happened.” The messenger says. “Kalf has made himself the new Earl of Hedeby.”

           Ragnar and Lagertha have a chat. I stand off to the side, listening.

           “I supported you in Wessex, now you must support me. Together we can overthrow this usurper.” Lagertha says.

           “Firstly, you came to Wessex of your own volition. Secondly, if there is a civil war many of our own people will die. Is your Earldom really that important to you?” Ragnar says.

           “Yes.” Lagertha says.

           “Why?” Ragnar asks.

           “Because it is rightfully mine!” Lagertha says getting closer to Ragnar. I stand up and put myself between them.

           “Oh.” Ragnar says. He rubs his face with his hand. “Well there is never much use in arguing with you, Lagertha. We shall go and talk to him.”

           Later, I sit with Ragnar at the table as he eats. I stroke his cheek. Aslaug is at a different table across from us.

           “Who is Harbard?” He asks suddenly. She doesn’t answer. “Who is Harbard?” He asks again. He taps his spoon on the table in front of us. “Who is Harbard?” He asks for a third time.

           “You want to know?” Aslaug asks. “I’ll tell you about Harbard. I’ll tell you about who he was to your son. The son you leave behind. When you went away, Harbard helped him. He took away Ivar’s pain. Look how peaceful he is. He’s sleeping. He never slept before. And it was Harbard who stopped his suffering.”

           “Was he good? This Harbard?” Ragnar asks?

           “Yes, he was a good man.” Aslaug says.

           Ragnar stands up and goes over to Ivar’s crib. He lifts from it and rocks him. Ivar starts to cry. I stand and go over to him, holding my arms out. Ragnar puts Ivar into my arms. He stops crying immediately. I kiss his little forehead.

           “I’m sorry.” I whisper to him. He walks away.

[lostinfic]

The Raven and the Goldfinch | 4

≒  Complete  ≒

Previous chapters

Summary: In turn-of-the-century London, the famous illusionist, Peter Vincent, must use his skills to reclaim the love of his life, a woman he thought was lost to him. Now that he’s given a second chance, he won’t lose her again, not even when supernatural forces get in the way.

Rating: here be lemons (and fluff)

Word count: 3.8k

Ship: Peter Vincent (Fright Night) x Jenny (Spirit Trap)

*You don’t need to have seen either movie*

A/N: thank you so much to everyone who read this despite the obscure ship. I really hope you enjoyed it.

Available on Ao3 (not linking because of Tumblr shenanigans)

≒

The London Post, 13 December 1895

In other news, we reported two weeks ago that a peculiar illness had struck the Westmorland household. We have it under credible authority that, not only has one of their maids died when no medicine could cure her, but the countess Iphigenia herself is now suffering from the same symptoms. She has rescinded many invitations and cancelled social engagements. Naysayers like to remind us of the fate that befell the Earl’s first wife. But the most superstitious among us favour the supernatural hypothesis. Is a vampire preying on the London gentry?

≑

The stagecoach careened along the roads, leaving tracks in the fine coat of snow. At six o’clock, night had already swallowed London.

Peter toyed with his wooden raven. He twirled it from one finger to the next, then onto the left hand. It disappeared down his sleeve and reappeared in the right palm.

He’d last seen Jennie a week ago, but newspapers had kept him informed of her condition when he couldn’t go to her.

In front of the Earl of Westmorland’s house, Peter paid the driver and walked to the front door. With each step, the knot in his stomach tightened.

“Vincent, finally..”

“You asked to see me, your lordship.”

“It’s about my wife, she’s very sick as you may have read in the papers.”

The Earl walked down the corridor, crooking his fingers at Peter so he would would follow.

“Indeed, I did. But I am no physician, I don’t see how I can help.”

“I know, I know. But I need you to put these rumours to rest. Rumours of vampires.” He scoffed. “If you say she’s sick of natural causes, people will believe you.”

In the bedroom, the sight of Jennie gutted him. Her skin was ashen and clammy, her lips had lost their color. Thin blue veins marbled her eyelids and hands. He had to reign in his instinct to rush to her side, the Earl still didn’t know about their acquaintance. He didn’t seem half as disturbed as Peter by his wife’s illness, more annoyed.

“People are talking,” he said. “They have lost their minds because of your show.”

“Well, that is no fault of mind.”

“They say she’s… under some spell. You must say publicly that your theatricals are all an act.

And announce that my wife is under no such spell.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“May I?” Peter gestured towards Jennie.

He approached the bed as he had never approached another woman’s bed before-- carefully. When his fingers neared the high collar of her nightgown, she recoiled and hissed at him.

“Your ladyship, I must take a look.”

He tried a second time, he lowered the collar enough to reveal a dark mark between her neck and shoulder. His eyes widened in shock.

“Her life is being sucked out of her. Can you not see it, you lordship?”

The Earl rocked on his heels. “Well, hum, I admit this is all rather peculiar.”

“And your maid, the one you showed me the other day,” Peter said.

“She died. It’s obviously some contagion.”

“Yet you are not ill.” Peter squinted his eyes at the Earl. “Unless you are the cause—“

“I will hear no such thing!”

“Where is the maid buried? If she died of natural causes then her body should have decomposed as any other.”

“If it is, then you will announce you are a fraud and put these rumours to rest?”

Peter hesitated, but if that was what it took. “There is only one way to find out. Where is the maid buried?”

Torches in hand, Peter followed the Earl outside. They grabbed shovels and axes from a shed and crossed the backyard. Their boots stamped the fresh snow, smudging the pure white with mud.

Because of the rumours in the newspapers, the two nearest cemetery had refused to take the body. Since the maid had no family that they could find, she had been buried at the far end of the backyard.

Three marble headstones stood by the undergrowth at the edge of the property, they were dedicated to the Earl’s hunting dogs. A small cross made of rotting planks nailed together marked the maid’s resting place. The soil above the coffin was still upturned and loose, though congealed from the cold.

Standing in the small circle of light provided by the lanterns, Peter and Westmorland dug.

It wasn’t long before their shovels hit the wooden coffin. Whoever had buried her had done it hastily or carelessly, a shallow grave with the top of the coffin ajar-- which worked in Peter’s favour.

“There is soil in her coffin, even on her hands.” Peter lifted her arm, it was limp. “No rigor mortis.”

And now, for the coup de grâce, Peter brought the lantern closer to the corpse’s head: a dark red substance stained the corners of her mouth.

The Earl covered his mouth with his handkerchief, his eyes bulged, sweat beaded on his forehead.

“But he said… Not her too...” the Earl mumbled. He lunged towards Peter and shook him by the lapels of his coat. “You should have let me kill her the other day!”

“Stop! You can still save your wife. Act swiftly before the vampire awakes.”

He pointed at the axe.

The Earl let go of Peter and grabbed the axe. Without a moment of hesitation, he swung it high and severed the corpse’s head. His promptness sent an icy chill down Peter’s spine.

Peter glanced at Jennie’s window-- it was open.

“Good man. We must go now and save the countess before it’s too late.”

The house was eerily silent, the servants nowhere to be found, avoiding whatever was happening here like animals who sense a storm coming. Well, they were right.

In the bedroom, Jennie wasn’t weak anymore, but standing by the open window, hair and nightdress billowing in the cold wind. She looked powerful. Magnificient.

The Earl and Peter stayed in the door frame, with the bed as a barrier between themselves and Jennie.

“Iphigenia, my dear--”

“Don’t you dare call me ‘dear’ after the way you have treated me. You’re too late, Richard. And it’s all your fault”

“But how is it possible?”

“Just like your first wife.”

“She was ill.”

“And why was that?”

“I don’t know what you are insinuating.”

“Yes you do. She was ill but you hurried things along, didn’t you? I will not suffer for you, Richard. You wanted me to have powers, well watch this.”

Smoke and sparks burst at her feet, obscuring her, and a raven appeared where Jennie had been. The bird flew out the window.

“We must catch her,” Peter said, rushing out of the room.

They ran after the raven across the backyard, but lost sight of it. Peter insisted they kept looking for it, they couldn’t let a vampire loose in London, it was their duty to prevent it from hurting other people.

“This is lunacy. What are you up to, Vincent? I have seen you make things vanish off the stage. This must be one of your tricks.”

“How? You invited me to your house. I was standing right beside you the whole time. I even came into the bedroom after you.”

“I-- I don’t understand… He would have told me...”

“Do you suspect treachery from your new wife, your lordship? Perhaps you know a reason why she would want to run away from you so soon after the wedding?”

The Earl bristled at the suggestion. He jutted out his chin and adjusted his hat. “Let’s keep looking.”

They searched the area of St. James’s Park, calling her name, shaking trees and holding oil lamps up to every wall.

Less than an hour later, the Earl already suggested they abandon the hunt. Proof, if any was needed, of how little he cared about Jennie.

Panting heavily, the Earl sat on a stone bench and wiped his forehead. Peter drank from a flask and offered a sip to the other man.

“What will I tell her family?”

“The same thing you told your first wife’s family, I presume,” Peter replied.

The Earl glared icily at him, and Peter regretted his quip.

“We shall never speak of this again.”

“It’s of no concern to me. Three more shows and I will be out of England.”

“Good.” The Earl emptied the flask.

“I will keep looking,” Peter declared, “these creatures are too dangerous.”

“As you wish.”

Peter sighed in relief at the Earl’s departure.

He continued to roam St. James’s park, then returned to his hotel in Pimlico, but not in a straight line. He turned left and right at random, still pretending to search for the vampire, but mostly making sure he wasn’t being followed.

Inside his hotel room, all the curtains were drawn, only a candle afforded some light.

Fabric rustled to his right. A dark hooded figure awaited him. He grabbed an antique chalice from his anti-vampire arsenal.

“Back, spawn of Satan!”

The black cape fell to the floor, revealing Jennie. She hissed at him, then very deliberately licked her upper lip, and pressed the tip of her tongue against her canine. He watched her, mesmerized, as she walked predatorily towards him.

When she licked a long line up his throat, he groaned. She pressed her body against his and asked in a sultry voice, “Is that a stake in your trousers or are you happy to see me?”

She dragged her fingers down the buttons of his waistcoat, then over his pelvis, and he bucked into her palm.

“Very, very happy.”

She broke character with a wide grin. “Me too. I’m free!”

Peter picked her up by the waist and twirled her around, both of them laughing, delirious with happiness.

When he put her down, Jennie was slightly dizzy and wobbled on her feet, knocking a bird cage. She remembered that in her haste to leave the house, she’d completely forgotten to bring back Peter’s raven. He didn’t worry about it, his bird would find its way-- it knew where the food was.

“You really performed that illusion like a pro. You completely fooled Westmorland.”

“I learned from the best,” she said with a coquettish smile.

“Clever girl. Maybe we will be a double act.”

“Like we were always meant to be.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then his fingers curled over her cheek. His gaze was

soft and full of love. “Draga mea.”

“What does it mean?”

“My darling, in Romanian.”

“Draga,” she repeated. “It sounds like dragon.”

“Even better for tonight you were fierce. Let me taste your fire.”

She giggled against his lips.

“Maybe you will find scales under my clothes and a tail under my skirts.”

“I had better look, then, and make sure you are human.”

He pulled on the lace at the front of her dress, wrapping it around his index finger until the dress opened. Jennie removed it, along with her bustle and discarded the items carelessly.

He undressed her slowly. With every layer removed, he pretended to inspect her body for dragon scales. She couldn’t stop laughing at his antics.

When she had only her chemise left, Jennie shivered, the room was quite cold and the candle almost finished. Peter lit and stoked the fireplace. A warm orange glow filled the room. The light from the flames highlighted Jennie’s silhouette under her thin chemise.

Peter undressed to his black silk pants and sat on the wide wingback chair. He crooked his finger to invite Jennie over. She sat in his lap, head on his chest, feet dangling off the side of the chair. He wrapped a blanket over them, waiting for the room to warm up.

For the first time since they’d reunited, there was no time limit, no hurry, no fear of getting caught, they could bask in this simple moment.

Last week, they had met in secret at her father’s house. They needed to discuss how to escape the Earl but also inform her father and sister of the plan so they would know if Jennie disappeared, she was, in fact, safe with Peter. Her father’s home hardly afforded any intimacy for the two lovebirds, so they got carried away in the stagecoach back to his hotel, but again they had ran out of time.

Peter carefully removed the pins from her hair and combed his fingers through it. She kissed his chest in gratitude.

“You prefer it loose?” she asked.

“Like the day I met you.”

“No matter what my nanny tried, at the end of the day, my hair was always a mess because you kept throwing bedsheets and empty flour sacks over my head to make me disappear.”

“It’s a shame you have to dye it.”

“Only for the train journey. By the time you join me and Ingwer in Romania, it will have faded out.”

“Still, don’t be too thorough in changing your appearance.” He raised her chemise to look underneath.

“Oi!”

Refusing to get off the chair, he stretched his arm as far as he could to grab the silver tray at the other hand of the table.

“Have you ever tasted Absinthe?” he asked. “No? You’re missing out.”

“I’m sure you shall remedy the situation.”

As he poured, herbal fragrances rose from the liquor.

He brought a cube of sugar to her lips. “Suck.”

She held his gaze as she licked both the sugar and the fingers holding it, then wrapped her lips around it.

“Minx.”

He kissed her, the cube between their mouths, granules of sugar coated their tongues.

Then they each drank from the same glass. Jennie grimaced, but asked for more.

His eyes never left her, still incredulous that she was here with him, at last. But a question tainted his happiness.

“Something’s on your mind, Peter.”

“Aye. How did you know about his first wife?”

“A little birdie told me.”

Jennie drank some more while she gathered her thoughts. He stroked her arms to reassure her of his support.

“Since we met again, I’ve been hearing this whistling, at first I thought it was a bird in the house, but then I realized it was more like a human imitating a bird’s song. The song of the goldfinch. Then we had our secret meeting at my father’s house. When I got home, Richard was in one of his moods because I’d arrived late. And I heard that twitter again even before I heard him coming my way, and I realized it had been warning me all along.”

“Are you saying someone has been spying on us? Someone knows, in your house?”

“No. Oh, gosh Peter, I don’t know what to think. I always refused to believe. After Mother died, I refused to hear her… but she was always there, looking over me.”

“You mean…?”

Jennie nodded and looked up to ward off tears.

“You see, we’d come up with a plan, but I— I had this feeling that we would need more. Leverage, you know. Against Richard. I was desperate for something, anything, to help us abscond safely. So that night I listened for real.”

“You talked to your deceased mother?”

“It’s not that easy, it wasn’t a conversation exactly, more like clues, signals, I had to decipher. And they all pointed to his first wife.”

Peter was gobsmacked by this revelation.

“Peter? Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Hell, if anyone else had told me this.” He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a puff of breath. “But I believe you, Jennie. I think-- even if we don’t like to admit it-- we’ve both known for a long time that some things can’t be explained rationally.”

They snuggled closer on the chair. And they talked about their past and their future. About their home in Northumberland and the one they would build in Romania. About their own parents and the parents they might become. About the magic they had witnessed and the one they would create together.

Before long, Peter filled a second glass with a generous amount of Absinthe. Between sugary kisses and sips of liquor, their hands roamed each other’s body.

They knew each other’s minds already, now they enjoyed this physical intimacy.

Jennie was tipsy, she’d never experienced that kind of drunkenness. A clear-headed form of inebriation that multiplied the effect of every touch. After a brush of his fingers, she felt each hair on her arm lift, each cell of her skin sizzle. His black-painted nails dragged over her thigh, and she felt it deep inside her, to the marrow of her bone, a delicious pressure.

Peter had built quite a tolerance over the years, and suspected his own lightheadedness was caused by his lover rather than the alcohol.

Jennie kicked off the blanket as the room was hot enough now. Her chemise slid off her shoulder, revealing the top of her breast. He couldn’t resist the appeal of her flesh. He dipped a sugar cube in absinthe and trailed it gently across her skin. His tongue followed the path and farther still, dragging down the cloth to tease her nipple to a peak.

“Do the other.”

“Who am I to refuse?”

She drank the last of the glass while he traced swirls over her breasts. To refill the glass, she straddled his legs. Peter took the opportunity to grab her bum. He pulled her forward so their crotches met. He was hard. They grinded lazily, still kissing and drinking.

She lost herself in the exploration of his torso, the taut skin of his stomach, the ripple of his ribs, the soft hair over his pectorals, the pulse beating in his throat. She covered his neck with sloppy kisses as she rolled her hips over him in languid circles. The silk of his underwear felt divine, and she soaked through it with her arousal.

His hand still on her bum slid between her legs. She canted her hips back so his fingers might enter her. Her head dropped to his shoulder with a moan.

“I love playing with you.”

“I love the way you play with me.”

He added a second finger, and Jennie started meeting his movements, rubbing against him every time.

“Faster.”

“Like this?”

“Yes!” Her nails dug in his shoulders. “Oh, but I would rather with you in me.”

“Go on, then.”

He raised his hip to help her lower his underwear, and she guided his cock into herself.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered as she slowly sank down on him.

Jennie’s giggles turned into a moan.

“It should have always been like this.”

She rested her forehead against his, ragged breaths mingled in the space between their lips.

“Let’s never be apart.”

“Never again.”

He claimed her mouth, and plunged up into her. And then there was nothing lazy or slow about their lovemaking, but a run for the ultimate pleasure. Jennie held on to the wings of the chair and bounced on him, encouraged by Peter’s compliments and grunts. The chair creaked and scraped the wooden floor with each feverish thrust.

“Oh, good Lord,” she moaned,

Suddenly, the chair toppled over.

After a second of shock, they burst out laughing.

“Are you alright?”

“Aye.”

She got on her knees to stand up, but Peter was quicker, he grabbed her hips from behind and impaled her right back on his cock. His pelvis smacked against her backside. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Don’t stop.”

She met each of his frenetic thrusts, black dots danced before her eyes. When he bit her shoulder, she exploded. Her whole body quavered. He continued pounding into her with abandon until he shouted her name and emptied himself. He sagged against her, and she held him close, caressing his hair and whispering words of love in his ear.

*

Just as Peter was drifting off to sleep, someone knocked at the door. They startled and exchanged a panicked glance. The knock was repeated with more urgency.

“Er, give me a minute,” Peter shouted.

Jennie sprung to her feet, gathered her clothes and hid in the armoire. Peter slipped on his underwear and a robe.

The Earl stood on the other side of the door, and he entered the room without an invitation.

“Bloody hell, what are you doing here at this hour?”

The Earl scanned the room. Peter had to think fast.

“Did Jen-- the countess come back?”

“Oh, she was never very far, was she?”

Peter swallowed thickly. “She stayed in London where her sire is, I presume.”

“You see, Vincent, Iphigenia was supposed to bring me great power. I killed for her, do you understand that? Then someone else came along and offered me more than communication with the dead. He offered me eternal life if I did his bidding.”

“What?”

“Please come in, Jerry, sir,” the Earl said.

A stranger walked in, dressed like a common man, but exuding grace, and the Earl bowed to him. His eyes were so dark pupil and iris were indistinguishable.

At the sight of him, Peter’s blood ran cold. He staggered back, patting every surface for a weapon.

“No, it can’t be.”

“Little Peter McHoolihee,” the stranger said with a Mediterranean accent. A menacing smile graced his lips.

Peter pointed a shaking finger. “You-- you killed my parents.”

“Yes. And now I will kill your beloved.” He sniffed the air and walked towards the armoire, already licking his lips.

Adrenaline rushed through Peter’s veins. He yelled and jumped on Jerry’s back. Jennie opened the armoire, smacking the door into the vampire’s face. Peter’s weight pulled him back, and Jerry tripped over the fallen arm chair. He roared like a beast. His impossibly wide mouth revealed sharp teeth. Peter scampered off to his trunk of antiques.

Jerry lunged towards Jennie with inhuman speed. She ducked. Peter attacked him with a stake. He hit the shoulder blade. Jennie grabbed a candelabra and set the vampire’s clothes on fire. The Earl jumped to his rescue.

The fire spread to the Earl’s clothes, but still he tried to save Jerry. But he had no such concerns and bit into the Earl’s neck for sustenance.

Peter grabbed a pistol and blindly shot silver bullets at the two bodies aflame.

The vampire and his devotee rolled on the floor. They ignited the rug and curtains.

Jennie grabbed Peter’s hand, and they scampered off. On their way out, they shouted to wake up the other hotel guests.

They made it out safely.

Standing on the sidewalk, wrapped in a bed sheet, they watched the hotel engulfed in flames. Snowflakes drifted down, twinkling in the fire light.

“It’s over,” Jennie whispered and hugged a shaking Peter. “We’re truly free.”

The End

(More Peter x Jenny?)

[punky-pinkhaired-hufflepuff]

Relaxing evening (Severus x Reader)

It had been a long day for the both of you. Severus was so tired he even regretted giving certain students detention. He wanted nothing more to be back in his shared flat with his love. She to was a professor at Hogwarts. All he wanted was to go home and lay down with her in his arms. He counted the minutes till that dream could be a reality.

Finally detention was over. A thought he typically didn’t have. But he was tired and new his love was waiting for him. So hurriedly rushed down the hall cape and robe flowing dramatically behind him. Ooh how you would have swooned.

Upon arriving he was greeted with a plethora of wonderful smells, lavender, Earl grey, and warmth all mixed together. But something with missing. Severus frowned.

“Darling?” He called out removing his not so needed robes and such leaving him in his button surplused shirt.

“just a moment” you called out happily. A few seconds passed and Severus decided to sit in his favored arm chair. The same chair he usually sat in to read the paper or do some grading if you kindly brought him a small t.v tray like table. It was cute how around your apartment you two collected various muggle pieces. Sure yes there wasn’t so much of a difference but it was the little things that made it so cute.

You soon entered the room happily carrying a tray over to the kitchen section of the apartment, pulling out Severus’s favorite meal along with pouring him some tea and bringing it to him. You smiled and picked up a small pile of pajamas Severus didn’t noticed was placed on the cure love seat next to his chair. He cocked and eye brow noticing they we’re his, and that you were in your pajamas as well.

“what’s all this?” He asked with a yawn.

“well I can see your tired but I could tell you were tired earlier when you delivered those papers to my class. So I took it upon myself to create a perfect night of relaxation for us. There’s a hot bath waiting for you, I made your favorite meal, brewed your favorite tea and figured we could just play silly little card games and snuggle tonight. I told Dumbledore we wouldn’t be attended dinner tonight.” You smiled walking behind him and started running his shoulders.

"what did I do to get to so lucky to have you in my life" he said with a sigh. You two say together finishing your meal ocationally venting a little about your day. When dinner was finished you took yours and his plate and brought them over to the sink. You turned around with a smile.

"professor your bath is waiting" you said cheekily while winking at him. He smiled in response then rolled his eyes a little.

"no role play tonight honey I'm tired" he joked. You couldn't help but laugh as you warmed up the water some more with a little magic trick you knew. Nothing special it was genuinely magic what did you think?

You each got in together (ooh scandalous) both sighing with relief as the hot water inclosed you to. You sat in front of him and leaned back onto his chest listening to the soft and steady heart beat of his. You smiled feeling happy believe he was now at ease and relaxed. He grabbed your hand out from under the water and brought it to his lips and gave it a gentle kiss.

"why did you do all of this for me darling?" He asked quietly. You smiled and turned around to face him. It was a little less smooth and more awkward given you were both in a tub but neither of you noticed.

"all day I noticed how tired you looked and how stressed you looked at times. I'm not dumb I know when your hurting weather it's something small or something big. I take it upon myself to help out to the best of my ability" you said kissing his cheek and smiling at him. He never felt like he deserved you and often had nightmares of you leaving him. He knew he wasn't the best man and that you could do better. But you were one of the few people to see the good inside him, work your way past the grump, over look how temper and ocational greesy hair. Witch since you two had gotten together those days were fewer and far between. You loved him deeply and wanted to show it in everyway you could.

"thank you " he said smiling and brushing your hair out of your face.

"for what" you asked smiling and leaning into his touch.

"everything."

[vaguelyrotten]

Like a Lily in a Flood

Title: Like a Lily in a Flood Artist: @myulalie Beta: @another-random-stranger​​ Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, mentions of Jimon and Reyhill Word Count: 70k Warnings: Mild Gore, Beheading, Nearly being eaten alive and burned at the stake, Discrimination, Sickness Summary:  Alec returns home to find his town plagued by a mysterious illness. Unable to find a cure, he ventures into the woods to seek help from an unlikely source. We must not look at goblin men... This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2021: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Chapter Four

Isabelle’s ingredients turned out to be a handful of seeds, spices, and spirits that they hadn’t had in the storeroom at the manor. Alec knew that he could pick up a majority of the ingredients at the general store. The others he would have to ask around for...and hope he got lucky. He tied Flame to the hitching post out front and went inside.

A bell jingled gently as he pushed open the door. The store was owned by Lucian Greymark — the step-father of the girl that Jace was absolutely smitten with. Lucian had been in his father’s army until an injury had forced him to retire early. Luke had always been kind to Alec and his siblings and had always paid them more attention than Robert had when the kids had visited or accompanied their father on routine patrols where they didn’t expect to see any action. He still helped out around town where he could — even if most days he was found working at Greymark's General Mart.

Luke was nowhere to be seen today, apparently, as it was Clary’s mother Jocelyn behind the counter. “Alec? Is that you? By the angel, look how much you’ve grown. You were barely eighteen when you left us!” She stepped around the counter to pull him into a tight hug. “How long has it been? Two years? Three?”

“Five, actually,” Alec replied. “Next year will be my last year of school.”

“My gosh, how time flies. What can I help you with today. I hear your mother is out of town — are you here for your household’s weekly order?”

Alec shrugged; he hadn’t known that there was a weekly order but if he was here, he might as well pick it up. His mother had left him in charge of running the manor in her absence, after all. “Well, I wasn’t, but I can certainly pick it up while I’m here. Izzy wanted me to grab a few things for her while she was preoccupied.” He pulled the list out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Do you have all this or know where I could get it?”

She scanned the small piece of parchment before nodding. “I think I’ve got most of it. It will take me a few minutes to put it together. Do you want to wait or would you like to come back? Shouldn’t take me long...maybe twenty, thirty minutes tops. If you’ve got other errands to run, now would be a good time.”

“I’ll come back, thank you,” Alec replied with a smile. “I want to stop by the Dough-Re-Me Bakery and pick Max up a treat. It’s been a while since he’s gotten to be spoiled by his big brother.”

“I’m sure he will most certainly appreciate it. This will be ready for you by the time you return.”

----------

The bakery was owned by the older sister of one of Alec’s old classmates. He and Andrew had been good friends growing up and they had often been the guinea pigs for Ava’s recipes before she’d finally been able to buy the bakery of her dreams. It may be the only actual bakery in town but Alec knew that she would be willing to whip him up a sweet treat for his younger brother if she didn’t already have any available.

The store was empty when he first entered, but a set of sleigh bells hanging on the door handle announced his arrival. Alec waited patiently, knowing that Ava was likely up to her elbows in dough in the back room. When the door behind the counter finally swung open, it was Andrew who stepped through.

“Alec? My gosh, when did you get back? I thought you’d gotten too good for us out there in the big city!”

“I haven’t been back long,” he laughed, extending his hand to Andrew. “Two weeks or so — my mother called me back to keep an eye on things while she went to Alicante to petition the king for help to find a cure. I had some errands to run so I thought I’d stop by and pick up something for Max while I was in town. Is your sister around? I was hoping to get some of her famous caramel cookies.”

Andrew’s smile faltered and Alec knew that he’d said something wrong. “Unfortunately, Ava has fallen to the stone sickness.”

“I’m so sorry,” Alec replied, grasping Andrew’s hand tighter and pulling the other man into a hug. “I didn’t know.”

“This illness isn’t your fault...and your father was one of the first to succumb. It seems no one is safe,” The other man sighed and stepped away from the hug. “In the meantime, I’m doing what I can to keep this place going. I can bake but I can’t work the wonders in the kitchen that my sister can. I hope your mother and the council are successful in Alicante. A cure for this cannot come soon enough.”

Alec wanted desperately to reassure Andrew that one way or another — whether his mother gained the King’s support or not — that he was determined to find a cure. How do you tell someone who was raised to be terrified of the magic that the woods hold that you’d gone to that very place looking for the monsters who live there in hopes that they could offer help that could save the town? He was fairly certain that the other man wouldn’t judge him for attempting to go to the goblins for help, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up regardless.

“Something will come, I’m sure of it. Everything happens for a reason,does it not? ‘After the storm, the sun will shine again’ as the saying goes…Now, I’ve got some time before Jocelyn has my order ready. Is there something I can help you with while I wait? We can catch up.”

----------

Helping Andrew around the store took longer than Alec had expected, but it had been nice to catch up with him despite the rather unfortunate circumstances surrounding it. By the time he made it back to Greymark’s General Mart, the sun was high in the afternoon sky. The bell over the door caught Jocelyn’s attention and she looked up from the counter. “Ah, there you are. You get tied up at the bakery?”

“Just catching up with Andrew,” he replied, stepping up to the counter and removing his coin purse from his pocket. “I haven’t spoken with anyone outside of my siblings since I moved to Alicante. We used to go to school together.”

“That’s right, I forgot that you’re a few years older than Clary. Such a shame about Ava — we’ve lost too many good people to this blasted illness.”

“Speaking of...Luke — is he…?

“Oh no!” She replied quickly. “Lucian is absolutely fine. We’ve had a lot of the guard fall victim however, so he was asked to go to the border to assist with strategy. Apparently there have been some skirmishes with the locals and being down so many men right now has the Captain worried. Lucian might not be able to fight any longer but he still has his tactical mind.” She handed him his change and patted his hand reassuringly. “I’ll tell him you said hello though. Hopefully, he’ll be here before you head back to the city. I know that he’d like to see you.”

----------

By the time Alec returned home, the sun had long since dipped below the treeline and Jace had apparently returned from the job that he had taken.

“Did you forget how to get to town since you’ve been gone?” His sister asked, barely looking up from a piece of parchment in her hand.

“No, I spent the afternoon helping Andrew out and catching up with him,” Alec replied, placing the bags that he had been carrying on the table next to her and fishing around in one for a small, white box. “I was hoping to pick up some of Ava’s caramel cookies but I didn’t realize that she’d fallen ill. You’ll have to settle for chocolate chip instead.”

Jace jumped off the corner of the table that he’d been perching on and made a desperate grab for the white cardboard box.

“I thought you were full,” Isabelle stated, leveling a glare in her brother’s direction. “That’s specifically what you said when I offered to make dinner.”

Jace winced all too aware of the lie that he’d just been caught in. “That was then and this is now. Besides, am I just supposed to say no to free cookies?” He replied, stuffing one in his mouth and holding the box out in her general direction as a peace offering. She hesitated for only a moment before she sighed and accepted a cookie.

“If I remember correctly, Ava was one of the first people outside of the soldiers who got sick.” She flipped the paper that she was holding over and pointed. “See: Ava Underhill - May 1st. She’s at the top of the list right underneath father’s men.”

“This is a list of everyone that’s gotten sick?” Alec asked, taking the parchment from her and paling as he realized just how many names were there.

“Since the beginning,” Isabelle replied sadly. “We just added three more names today. Trust me, a cure cannot come soon enough.”

“Speaking of — any luck with the paste? Or did we hit another dead end?”

“I haven’t been back upstairs yet...let’s go take a look.”

----------

Their father lay unconscious and unmoving and exactly how they had left him earlier that morning. The disgusting green goo that they’d rubbed on his arms had dried, leaving a slightly less disgusting flakey mess in its place. “Well, the clean up will certainly be easier than the application,” Alec muttered, scrapping at some of the residue that had been left behind. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the green out of my skin.”

“Oh, quit complaining,” His sister replied, following suit with their father’s over arm. She poked at the skin that had been revealed and then frowned. “Alec...I think it did something. He doesn’t feel as cold...and his skin isn’t exactly as hard? I mean, it’s definitely not entirely a cure but it’s definitely something.”

Alec finished flaking the rest of the paste off and tapped his father’s arm, repeating the process on an area of skin that they hadn’t applied the poultice to earlier. “It’s… I don’t know. You’re right...somehow. Magnus did say treat the symptoms and maybe they would lead to a cure. It’s a start...but I wouldn’t be getting my hopes up that we’ve managed to do what the various physicians couldn’t.”

“Those physicians didn’t have my stubborn older brother and his determination to take care of his family. We should make some more of that paste… and it can’t hurt to try some of the tea I whipped up earlier too…” Alec could already see his sister’s mind going a thousand miles a minute with all the possibilities that had now opened up with the first start of...hope.

“Izzy,” He grabbed her shoulders gently and forced her to stand still for just a moment. “Iz, just remember...this is a start, alright? It’s not the cure but it could lead there.” She nodded her understanding and Alec couldn’t help but pull her into a hug. “Alright, now… you want to make some more, you said? What can I do to help?”

----------

Long after his sister had finally finished ordering him around, by some miracle, he’d been able to herd her off to bed. He closed his bedroom door behind himself and sighed, glancing briefly at the clock as he did. If he managed to fall asleep within the next half an hour, he could get a few hours of rest before he had to be up to rein his sister in before she worked herself half to death trying something that may or may not work.

He began the arduous process of getting himself ready for sleep, realizing for the first time since he’d gotten home from his trip to town earlier that day just how exhausted he was. He laid down and closed his eyes when a sudden frantic buzzing had him jolt away. He sat up in time to see a small piece of paper fall to his bed and ignite the end of his quilt as it landed. He jumped out of bed, throwing the quilt onto the floor and beating at the small fire with his pillow until it was fully extinguished before slowly picking it up to get a closer look.

He couldn’t keep the small smile from his face as he read.

My darling Alexander —

I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize if I gave you a fright… it only occurred to me once I’d already made up my mind to send it that most non-magically inclined people may never have seen a fire message before. Ragnor assures me that I’m being a blind and besotted idiot but alas, there are some parts of our souls that we just cannot change.

I hope you are having much better luck than I am in finding a cure for the people of Idris. My poor friend Raphael remains very much allergic to sunlight. We’ve spent the day pouring over all of Ragnor’s books but between my innate magical ability, Ragnor’s tendency to be a packrat, and Catarina’s healing, we’ve yet to find something that actually works.

Though we only had three short nights together, I cherished the time that we were able to spend together. I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Alexander, and I do hope that one day our paths will cross once again. (Preferably sooner rather than later.)

Until then,

Magnus Bane

PS - I just now realize that this might be a little awkward with leaving you no way to return the letter. I forget that not everyone has access to magic. Until I find a solution, I’ll just have to imagine your responses.

Magnus had included a sketch below his signature of a sprig of what looked like rosemary (though Alec had to admit that he was certainly no expert.) He knew that Magnus had gone over the plant’s meaning and medical use during the few days that they had spent together but without going back downstairs to cross reference the pages of handwritten notes that he’d left in the workshop, he knew that the meaning of the plant was would remain a mystery until the morning.

He set the letter aside, hiding it under some letters from family in the drawer of his end table, and let himself drift to sleep with a content smile on his face.

----------

Two weeks later, he and his siblings were no closer to finding a cure outside of their mild success with the disgusting green paste. His father’s skin had remained hard but the paste had helped by returning some of the natural color, replacing the greyness that they had come to associate with the illness.

Unfortunately, his father remained unconscious.

“I hate to say it, Alec, but we might need you to go see if Magnus could offer any more assistance,” his sister stated with a sigh, wiping the remnants of their latest attempt at some sort of tea off on a towel that he had passed her. “I’ve tried everything I can think of here...I just don’t have the knowledge that someone who grew up in the woods would have. Our ancestors weren’t exactly close with the goblins...there’s probably a ton that the books haven’t included.”

Alec had known that eventually he’d be asked to venture into Edom Forest once again and he’d been anxiously counting down the number of recipes that were left in the little journal that his sister had been keeping. They’d crossed the last one off the list early the previous day and he’d been waiting for his sister to broach the topic of needing more knowledge or ingredients ever since.

Truth be told, there was another reason that Alec wanted to go try to find Magnus but that he’d never admit to Isabelle and Jace. Ever since Magnus’ first letter — fire message, he reminded himself — had come the day after he had returned home, he’d received at least a short message every night. Three nights ago, however, the letters had stopped and Alec had grown increasingly worried each night that passed without one.

His instincts told him that something had happened and that Magnus was in trouble and Alec had learned early on to listen to those instincts when they were trying to tell him something.

“Well, the plus side is that at least this time I have a way to find him,” Alec replied, trying not to seem too eager as he patted the chest pocket where he’d kept the magical coin since his return. “Do you have a list for me? Or do you want me to see what Magnus comes up with?”

His sister looked him over with a judgemental eye and Alec was certain for a moment that she could see right through him. “I’ve got a list, but I also wouldn’t be opposed to you picking your goblin’s brain for any other information that he can offer us.”

“I can leave shortly — just let me pack enough for a couple of days just in case and I can head right out.”

----------

By the time Alec finally set out to head to Edom Forest, he was an ever growing bundle of nerves. He couldn’t get to the woods fast enough. He spurred his horse down the dirt path without even hesitating at the entrance as he had each of the prior times he’d come before. Once he was past the entrance and where he was certain the wards that Magnus had mentioned before began, only then did he finally bring Flame to a stop so he could fish the coin out from his pocket without risking losing it.

Magnus had only given him the barest instructions on how to use the coin so he would just have to trust in the magic that apparently made it work.

He held the coin cat side down in his hand and waited a few tense moments where nothing appeared to happen. Finally, the coin spun slowly before pointing down a trail that Alec was fairly certain he hadn’t taken before. He closed his hand over the coin and continued to ride, pausing every so often to check the direction that the arrow was pointing.

He rode hard for the remainder of the day, wishing that Magnus had included some sort of spell to tell him just how close he was getting to his target. As night fell and Alec’s horse began to breathe heavily from the day’s exertion, he was starting to worry that he wouldn’t stumble across Magnus before the darkness completely took over the woods.

There was an unnatural scream from straight ahead and Alec was instantly on guard. Flame reared and Alec lost his balance and fell from his horse’s back in a way that he hadn’t since he’d first learned to ride. The gelding took off back the direction that they’d come from, leaving Alec sitting in the mud alone. “Hey! Flame! Get back here!”

There was another roar — this time louder and closer — and all the natural sounds from the woods came to a complete halt. The birds had stopped singing, the frogs had stopped croaking, and the crickets had stopped chirping.

A silent woods was a dangerous woods and Alec realized very quickly that he had made a grave mistake.

He dared not move hoping that whatever predator was in the woods somewhere in the darkness ahead chose not to come this way and investigate further.

He held his breath knowing that he’d have no such luck. That’s not the way things worked for Alec Lightwood.

There was no further shriek that came, but the crashing through the undergrowth grew louder and closer. He glanced up at the trees around him wondering if he could scale them as quickly and as quietly as his little brother could. Finally the movement stopped and Alec...couldn’t breathe. “Sire! Over here — we found somethin’!” A voice half-screamed, half-mewled from somewhere off to Alec’s left. He could only sit there frozen as the voices grew closer, and Alec found himself about to face the Goblin King himself.

A man stepped out of the undergrowth wearing a tattered suit of red and black that appeared to have mushrooms growing out of each shoulder. His feet were bare and he was wearing a hat that sported a gold and white feather that belonged to no bird that Alec had ever seen. “Well, well, well…” The man started, holding up the lantern and allowing Alec to finally notice his eyes.

Familiar cat eyes stared down at him with a mocking expression on the unfamiliar face.

“What do we have here?” The man asked, bending down to get a closer look at Alec. “A human, how strange. You’ve somehow managed to make it past my son’s protective wards and found yourself this far into the forest, without running into any of the beasts that lurk in the shadows waiting for their unsuspecting prey. What shall I do with you?”

He inched closer and Alec tried to scoot backwards, running smack into a set of legs that ended in clawed bird feet. The man grinned, his smile a little too large and his teeth a little too pointed for Alec’s comfort as he took a tentative sniff of the air in front of Alec. “Well isn’t that interesting. You smell of that stupid brat that wandered into the woods not too long that didn’t realize the danger that he walked right into...and there’s something else.” He took another sniff and the wolfish smile was replaced with a scowl. “And my son’s magic. You reek of him.”

There was only one person with magic that Alec had any sort of regular, well irregular, contact with in the last few weeks...at least to his knowledge.

That meant...Magnus.

Magnus was the son of the Goblin King himself.

Magnus was a prince.

“We’ve found hoofprints,” the goblin with the bird feet spoke up, his voice a whistling trill that was painful to Alec’s ears. “Not ones that belong to that damn vicious beast that he rides around on. These are shod — the horse was wearing shoes.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?!” Asmodeus screamed, his anger materializing in a flare of angry red magical flames behind him. The goblins took a few hasty steps back, terrified of their king’s power. The bird-footed one waited until the flames had subsided before he took half a step forward, his hands raised in peace.

“We were hoping to catch ‘im, they were often traveling together. We thought you would enjoy being gifted your son and his new toy.”

Asmodeus took a deep breath, apparently calming his nerves in a way that Alec was sure wasn’t actually working. “A little bit of warning when my son is involved is always preferred, especially after the brat stole something that was rightfully mine.” He glanced down at Alec, the disgust clearly written on his face. “Perhaps…”

He snapped his fingers and a mole-like goblin with large teeth and long toes scurried forward. “Yes, sire?”

“My son stole from me, so I shall take something that belongs to him. Take him back to camp; it looks like our dinner came to us today.”

Alec found himself roughly shoved backwards. Two goblins held him down, with a third coming up behind them and quickly began wrapping thick rope-like vines around his hands and feet. He thrashed about, trying to free himself from the goblin’s grasp, but one of the creatures holding him sent a quick jolt of magic through his body, effectively freezing his limbs. Alec opened his mouth to scream, hoping at least to be able to shout for Magnus and hope that the half-goblin was close enough to hear, but found that no words would leave his mouth.

Asmodeus grinned slyly at Alec’s bound state before turning and disappearing back into the forest, expecting his crew to follow after him. The bird-like goblin waved a hand in Alec’s direction and Alec found himself slowly lifting into the air and floating after the troop of creatures.

As the group moved back to whence they came, Alec could hear the screams and squeals turn to song. It was the same tune from the first night he’d spent in the woods — the one that Magnus had used magic to prevent him from hearing so he wouldn’t be called to the goblin’s camp. Just like before, he could feel the song call to him, promising him things that he knew it could not deliver. It was electric and inviting; but this time, Alec found himself not drawn to the mystery, magic, and danger that the goblin song contained.

Maybe it was something that Magnus had done or maybe the forest was having some sort of effect on him, but all Alec knew was that the song that had once lured maidens into the woods and lone travelers into their camp wasn’t working.

Their trek to camp lasted an hour. He begged and pleaded to whatever god would listen that Magnus would suddenly pop out from behind the trees and save him, but in his heart he realized that was wishful thinking. The woods were vast and full of dangers. Magnus accidentally coming across the goblins when he normally went so far out of his way to avoid them and protect himself from being found and hunted was little more than a dream.

When they finally reached the camp with the caravans that Alec had seen the night that Magnus had taken the medallion, the bird-footed goblin snapped his fingers and Alec fell quickly to the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of him and causing him to grunt in pain. “Where would you like the horrible creature?” The goblin asked Asmodeus as the king removed his hat and tossed it inside the red caravan with the black roof (the very one, Alec noted, that Magnus had gone into that night.)

“Well, I said dinner, so dinner he shall be,” The goblin king replied with a shrug, glancing over the crowd of assembled beasts. “Would you like stew or roast tonight?”

The creatures screamed and squawked in a language that was unintelligible to Alec but must have meant something to Asmodeus. The goblin grinned with that same unsettling smile he’d worn earlier. “Roast it is then. Get the fire going and get him ready. We’ll eat well tonight — a reward for all your hard work.”

The creatures left Alec lying in the dirt as they dispersed to take care of their assigned tasks. He rolled to his side and tried to push himself to his feet as he struggled against the thick vines wrapped around his limbs. “Now, now, little human. Where do you think you’re going? We can’t have a feast without the main course now, can we?”

An electric and biting wave of angry red settled over him like a small bubble, and Alec found himself even further trapped. “Good boy. Stay there until we’re ready for you.”

Alec’s bubble was too small for him to truly push himself up into a sitting position so he could only watch from his prone position on the ground as the goblins prepped for their meal. Meal. Asmodeus’ words were finally registering in his mind and Alec felt his blood run cold. They were going to eat him. He watched as two goblins finished piling up some firewood and called magic to their fingers, starting the large cooking fire with none of the ease that Magnus did.

They were going to roast him.

He needed to get out of here because this was not how he dreamed of meeting his end. He’d hoped that one day he’d grow old and die peacefully in his sleep as so many of his ancestors had. He refused to be eaten.

He tried to scream, but the words got stuck on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t sure if that was from the bubble or the magic that had been used on him earlier but even if he had been able to speak, it would likely have been a lost cause. What’s the point of screaming when there was no one around to hear him except the very creatures that were currently preparing to cook him?

He tentatively probed at the bubble with his foot and hissed in pain as a sharp jolt of electricity shot up his leg. Okay, so touching that thing was definitely not an option. He had to find another way out of here…

What would Jace do right now? He knew for a fact that his brother had his fair share of squabbles that have ended with him tied up, in chains, or in jail (and sometimes all of the above.) He was sure that Jace had needed to get himself out of seemingly impossible situations before.

So what would Jace do now?

He could almost hear his brother mocking him in his head. ‘How did you manage to make such a stupid mistake, Alec? Dad taught us to be more aware when danger could be afoot...but right now, you’re in a damn fucking mess and you need to get out of it. So...what do you have?’

What did he have? And what could he access with his arms bound the way that they were?

He had the clothes on his back - not useful. At some point, they’d divested him of his hunting knife so that was no longer in his pocket. He had the list from his sister, a crushed flower from the last time he’d been in the woods, and…

The coin.

He still had Magnus’ coin.

He knew that the coin’s main purpose was to lead him to Magnus’ location, but to do that, it used magic.

Alec didn’t know a lot about magic. Hell, he pretty much knew nothing about magic outside of what he had learned from Magnus, but there was one book that he’d come across in the manor’s library (which he’d been spending more time in than his own bedroom these days) that had focused on spells and enchantments that could be used by non-magical people. He hadn’t had a chance to do more than flip through it since they’d been so busy with trying to find a cure that he hadn’t wanted to waste time.

There was one thing he did remember from the few pages that he’d perused however. The book seemed to mention on each page that there was a special kind of magic in blood…

And that Alec did have.

Maybe there was a way to use his blood to reverse engineer the magic in Magnus’ spell. Instead of the coin showing Alec to Magnus, it would lead Magnus to him instead. It sounded like an absolutely impossible and improbable idea but it was the only idea that he had right now and he was very quickly running out of time.

Based on the cheering that was coming from the center of camp, Alec had a feeling that the goblin’s dinner preparations were close to complete. He wiggled as best as he could to get his arms in a position where they could secret the coin from his pocket. Once that was safely in his hand, he glanced around his cramped prison. He could bite himself, if necessary, but that was both tedious and way too obvious. He was hoping that there would be something he could use…

There.

Half-hidden under leaf litter and moss was a rock with what appeared to be an edge that was sharp enough to slice through his skin. Unfortunately, that rock was up by his head, and with no way to twist his body to get his arms closer within the confines of his bubble, that left Alec with no choice but to draw blood from the only part of his body that could reach.

His face.

He scooted a few inches closer, all the movement that the bubble afforded him, and placed his cheek on the edge of the rock. He paused only a fraction of a second to take a deep breath and steel his nerves before he pressed his cheek into the stone and drug it across quickly. He felt the blood start to dribble from the fresh cut and he sighed in relief. Now, to find a way to get some to the coin and pray that he could work some magic of his own.

He couldn’t lift his hands and move it closer to his head, but he could tilt his head and move it a little closer to his hands. With more flexibility than he realized that he had, he was able to smear a few drops of blood across the surface of the coin. Now, to pray for a miracle.

Alec closed his eyes tightly, remembering that Magnus had said that magic often worked through intent, and poured every ounce of his willpower and belief into accomplishing what he hoped he could — leading Magnus to him the same way Magnus had told him that the coin would lead Alec to him.

Please, Magnus, I need you. Be my knight in shining armor. I can’t get out of this one alone.

He felt the air pressure change and opened his eyes to find that the bubble was gone. He hoped to be staring into Magnus’ eyes but was sorely disappointed. Cat eyes indeed stared down at him, but they were unfortunately set in Asmodeus’ face and not his son’s. The goblin king had a hungry expression on his face. “Praying won’t help you, human. Your gods have no power in these woods. This is my domain. My rules. My decisions. And I’ve decided that you’re going to be dinner for my court.” He snapped his fingers and two of the more animalistic creatures rushed forward. “Get him up and ready.”

The rat-like creatures dragged Alec up into a sitting position and began tearing at his shirt with their sharp claws, the tips brushing his skin and leaving angry red welts. He closed his eyes, knowing that fighting would get him nowhere, and continued his silent mantra with the coin still pressed tightly into his palm.

Please Magnus, find me, please.

Suddenly the goblins froze, listening as there was a shout from somewhere behind Alec that followed by the sound of crashing and screams as creatures scrambled out of the way of whatever beast was heading towards them. Alec twisted his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of the monster before he met his untimely (but still better option than being cooked alive) end.

The noise came to a slow stop just a few feet from him, and he could hear the heavy breathing of an exhausted horse.

[sleepyskunk]

List of movies / 2017 Movie Trailer Mashup

P  A  R  T     O  N  E

0:08 - War for the Planet of the Apes

“What are you waiting for?” - Lars Eidinger in PERSONAL SHOPPER

0:10 - Geostorm

0:12 - The Greatest Showman

“We made this oath. Whoever died first would send the other a sign.” - Kristen Stewart in PERSONAL SHOPPER

0:14 - Annabelle: Creation (double shot)

0:16 - A Ghost Story (double shot)

“A sign. Have you, communicated with spirits before?” - Lars Eidinger in PERSONAL SHOPPER

0:18 - The Blackcoat’s Daughter

0:19 - Wind River

0:20 - Ghost in the Shell

0:22 - Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales

0:23 - War for the Planet of the Apes

“It was quiet, for all these years.” - Miranda Otto in ANNABELLE: CREATION

0:26 - It (double shot)

0:29 - Hangman

“We all knew, something was very wrong.” - Holly Earl in LOVING VINCENT

0:31 - King Arthur

0:32 - The Beguiled

“I saw something.” - Jaeden Lieberher in IT

0:34 - The Devil’s Candy

0:35 - Annabelle: Creation

0:36 - Get Out (triple shot)

“A clown. Yeah, I saw him too.” - Jack Dylan Grazer in IT

0:39 - Lavender

0:41 - A Cure For Wellness (triple shot)

0:44 - The Circle

“You know there’s a sickness. Stops them seeing the truth.” - Vanessa Redgrave in THE SECRET SCRIPTURE

0:46 - Thelma

0:48 - The Secret Scripture

0:49 - Jackals

0:50 - Professor Marsten and the Wonder Women

0:51 - A Cure for Wellness

“There’s something, calling them all here.” - Aaron Poole in THE VOID

0:52 - Annabelle: Creation

0:53 - Mother! (double shot)

0:55 - Flatliners

“Shhh. That’s not me.” - Shae Smolik in THE HATRED

0:56 - The Hatred

1:02 - Mother!

1:03 - It

1:05 - Annabelle: Creation

1:05 - Personal Shopper

1:06 - Polaroid (triple shot)

1:08 - The Bye Bye Man

1:09 - It Comes At Night

1:10 - Berlin Syndrome

1:10 - Wish Upon

“Mister Policeman. You could’ve saved her.” - Jonas Karlsson in THE SNOWMAN

1:11 - Jigsaw

1:11 - Rings (double shot)

1:13 - Happy Death Day (double shot)

1:14 - The Devil’s Candy

1:15 - Jigsaw (double shot)

1:16 - The Lego Ninjago Movie (double shot)

1:18 - The Snowman (triple shot)

1:20 - Flatliners (double shot)

1:21 - The Shape of Water (double shot)

1:22 - The Belko Experiment

1:23 - Breathe

1:23 - Brigsby Bear

“Make it a wonderful day!” - Edie Inksetter in IT

1:24 - Justice League

1:25 - Kidnap (double shot)

1:26 - Collide

“At the end of the day, people are out for themselves.” - Adria Arjona in THE BELKO EXPERIMENT

1:27 - Good Time

1:27 - Gerald’s Game

1:28 - Wind River (double shot)

1:30 - The Belko Experiment

1:31 - The Devil’s Candy (double shot)

1:33 - King Arthur

1:34 - Split

“Death always wins.” - Matthew McConaughey in THE DARK TOWER

1:35 - Ghost in the Shell

1:36 - The Void

1:37 - Paint it Black

1:40 - The Snowman

1:41 - The Mountain Between Us

1:43 - Blade Runner 2049

1:44 - The Shape of Water (double shot)

“We all float down here.” - Jackson Robert Scott in IT

1:50 - It

P  A  R  T     T  W  O

1:56 - Baby Driver

1:59 - The Boss Baby

1:59 - Despicable Me 3

2:00 - Baywatch

2:01 - Ingrid Goes West (double shot)

“Congratulations.” - Aubrey Plaza in INGRID GOES WEST

2:03 - Logan Lucky

2:04 - Going in Style (double shot)

2:06 - Catfight (double shot)

2:06 - Kong: Skull Island

2:07 - A Fantastic Woman

2:07 - The Square

2:08 - Brawl on Block 99

2:10 - The Nut Job 2: Nutty By Nature

2:11 - All Eyez On Me

2:11 - Detroit

2:12 - CHIPs

2:13 - How To Be a Latin Lover

“This doesn’t put an end to shit, you f*cking retard, this is just the f*cking start. Why don’t you put that on your ‘Good Morning Missouri’ f*cking wake-up broadcast b*tch .” - Frances McNormand in THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI

2:14 - Pitch Perfect 3 (double shot)

2:16 - The Disaster Artist

2:18 - Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

2:22 - Fist Fight

2:23 - Suburbicon

2:23 - T2 Trainspotting

2:24 - Song to Song

2:25 - My Name is Emily

2:26 - Raw (double shot)

2:28 - Patti Cake$

2:29 - A Bad Mom’s Christmas

2:30 - Girls Trip

2:30 - Tragedy Girls

2:31 - T2 Trainspotting

2:32 - Rough Night

“Come on, man.” - Armie Hammer in FREE FIRE

2:32 - Free Fire (triple shot)

2:35 - First Kill

“I got you all wrong, didn’t I? You got me just right.” - Bel Powley and Tye Sheridan in DETOUR

2:36 - Kingsman: The Golden Circle (double shot)

2:37 - Wolf Warrior 2

2:38 - Detour

2:39 - Geostorm

2:40 - War for the Planet of the Apes

2:41 - Wonder Woman

2:42 - The Great Wall

2:43 - American Assassin

2:44 - Thor: Ragnarok

2:44 - Spider-man: Homecoming

2:45 - Monster Trucks (double shot)

2:47 - The Mummy

2:47 - Baby Driver (double shot)

2:49 - xXx: Return of Xander Cage

2:50 - Baby Driver (double shot)

2:52 - Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (triple shot)

2:57 - Ghost in the Shell

2:58 - John Wick: Chapter 2

2:58 - Transformers: The Last Knight

2:59 - The Dark Tower (double shot)

3:01 - Transformers: The Last Knight (double shot)

3:02 - Logan

3:02 - Alien: Covenant (double shot)

3:04 - Wonder Woman (double shot)

3:05 - The Fate of the Furious (quintuple shot)

3:08 - The Mummy (double shot)

3:10 - John Wick: Chapter 2

3:10 - Sleepless

3:11 - Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (double shot)

3:12 - Renegades 

3:12 - Colossal

3:13 - Okja (double shot)

3:14 - Baby Driver

3:15 - Ghost in the Shell

3:16 - Outrage Coda

3:17 - Captain Underpants

3:17 - Okja

3:18 - Saban’s Power Rangers

3:18 - The LEGO Batman Movie

3:19 - The LEGO Ninjago Movie

3:20 - The Emoji Movie

3:21 - Atomic Blonde

3:22 - Spider-man: Homecoming (double shot)

3:23 - Blade of the Immortal

3:24 - Thor: Ragnarok (triple shot)

3:25 - Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle

3:26 - Justice League

3:26 - Cars 3 (double shot)

3:28 - Star Wars: The Last Jedi

“Jesus Christ! What happened to the seatbelt rule?” - Ryan Reynolds and Samuel L. Jackson in THE HITMAN’S BODYGUARD

3:29 - The Hitman’s Bodyguard (quadruple shot)

P  A  R  T     T  H  R  E  E

3:38 - Golmaal Again

3:40 - A Dog’s Purpose

3:40 - Realive

3:42 - Kedi

3:43 - My Cousin Rachel

3:44 - Downsizing

3:45 - The Snowman

3:46 - Fifty Shades Darker

3:47 - Leap!

3:48 - The Greatest Showman (double shot)

3:49 - Tulip Fever

3:50 - Split

3:51 - Wonder Woman

“Whatever you do, do it carefully.” - Vicky Krieps in PHANTOM THREAD

3:52 - The Book of Henry

3:53 - The Devil’s Candy

3:55 - Hounds of Love

3:56 - Loving Vincent

3:57 - XX

3:58 - All The Money in the World

3:59 - The Bad Batch

4:00 - Lady Macbeth

4:01 - Victoria and Abdul

4:02 - Phantom Thread

4:03 - Polina

4:04 - Coco (double shot) 

“I always told you, you were special.” - Ana de Armas in BLADE RUNNER 2049

4:08 - The Killing of a Sacred Deer (double shot)

4:09 - Jungle

4:11 - Leap! (double shot)

“Because you have something she can only dream of.” - Carly Rae Jepsen in LEAP!

4:13 - The Greatest Showman (triple shot)

4:16 - The Limehouse Golem

4:17 - Battle of the Sexes (double shot)

“Without our passion, it’s very hard for us to find our place in the world.” - Ken Stott in 100 STREETS

4:19 - I, Tonya (double shot)

4:21 - Molly’s Game (triple shot)

4:23 - Professor Marsten and the Wonder Women

4:24 - Worlds Apart

4:26 - First Kill

“If we may find a city, where one was considered impossible to exist, it may well write a whole new chapter in human history.” - Charlie Hunnam in LOST CITY OF Z

4:27 - Star Wars: The Last Jedi

4:28 - Alien: Covenant

4:29 - The Lost City of Z

4:30 - Dunkirk

4:33 - The Battleship Island

4:35 - Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales

4:36 - War for the Planet of the Apes

4:39 - Kong: Skull Island

4:40 - Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales

4:41 - Dunkirk

4:43 - Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets

4:44 - Life (double shot)

4:46 - Only The Brave

4:48 - Menashe

4:49 - Before I Fall

“A man’s reach should exceed his grasp.” - Sienna Miller in LOST CITY OF Z

4:50 - American Made

4:51 - The Promise

4:52 - Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales

4:53 - The Dark Tower

4:54 - Saban’s Power Rangers

4:55 - Blade Runner 2049 (double shot)

4:57 - Kong: Skull Island

4:59 - All the Money in the World

5:00 - Stronger (double shot)

5:03 - Spoor

5:06 - Your Name

5:07 - Smurfs: The Lost Village

5:08 - The Odyssey

5:09 - Ghost in the Shell

5:11 - A Ghost Story

“I know this is a sacrifice for all of us.” - Charlie Hunnam in LOST CITY OF Z

5:14 - The Lost City of Z

5:16 - My Cousin Rachel

5:18 - Goodbye Christopher Robin (triple shot)

“I’d really like if you wrote a book for me. Should we go for a walk? Aren’t you working?” - Domhnall Gleeson and Will Tilston in GOODBYE CHRISTOPHER ROBIN

5:22 - The Zookeeper’s Wife

“Why’d you leave my mama? I got lost. But you found your way back, right?” - Abby Ryder Fortson and Alex Roe in FOREVER MY GIRL

5:23 - Worlds Apart

5:24 - Columbus

5:25 - Phantom Thread

5:26 - Darkest Hour

5:28 - Forever My Girl (double shot)

5:31 - Wonderstruck

5:32 - It (double shot)

5:33 - The Big Sick

5:34 - Darkest Hour (triple shot)

“If all of this stopped, even if I were dead, I’d miss it... And i’d miss you.” - Gemma Arterton in THEIR FINEST

5:36 - The Post

5:37 - Megan Leavey

5:38 - Murder on the Orient Express

5:39 - The Shape of Water

5:40 - The Man Who Invented Christmas

5:41 - Okja

5:43 - Table 19

5:44 - Their Finest

5:45 - A Kind of Murder

5:46 - Everything, Everything (double shot)

5:47 - The Florida Project (double shot)

“This is what life looks like. People who love each other. You still have time.” - Patrick Stewart in LOGAN

5:49 - The Children of Chance

5:50 - The Lost City of Z

5:51 - The Shack

5:52 - Goodbye Christopher Robin

5:53 - Call Me By Your Name

5:54 - Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri'

5:55 - Breathe

5:56 - Gifted (double shot)

5:58 - The Sense of an Ending

6:00 - Queen of the Desert

6:00 - Lady Bird (double shot)

6:02 - Beauty and the Beast (double shot)

6:04 - The Greatest Showman

6:05 - Wonder

6:06 - The Greatest Showman

6:06 - Coco

6:07 - Murder on the Orient Express

6:08 - The Shape of Water

6:09 - Darkest Hour

Edited by Sleepy Skunk (sleepyskunk@gmail.com)

[shirtlesssammy]

10x08: Hibbing 911

Ah, the episode that planted the seeds for a movement. So happy to be recapping Dodio this week!

Now:

In Hibbing, Minnesota, a tagger artist preps to spray paint smiley faces on an alley wall. He hears a noise, but continues with his task. He’s suddenly attacked from behind, and beaten to the point where his blood flies out of him and on to the wall. Impressive! And stylishly cool, show.

After the title card, our fearless leader, Jody, finds herself at a sheriff’s retreat in Hibbing. “You can do this,” she encourages herself before taking the plunge to socialize. #relatable She runs into a bohemian homeless-chic young lady in the parking lot and gives her some lunch money, before heading inside to her doom.

Once inside, she’s greeted by the ball of sunshine herself, Donna Hanscum. Donna is 100% rolling out the welcome wagon for our reluctant sheriff, and she let’s Jody know she grew up here and knows all the town’s ins and outs.

Donna’s EXTREMELY UNLIKEABLE ex-husband Doug decides to make an appearance. His insults towards Donna do not endear him to Jody. Her face is priceless. (Also, petition for the show to not make weight loss/fat jokes for Donna this season and in Wayward? Plz and Thx.)

At the bunker, Sam and Dean continue to search for a cure for the Mark of Cain. (Also, I’m side-eyeing some of the titles of books the Men of Letters have.)

The sheriff’s retreat kicks off with one very awkward Sheriff Len Cuse announcing Partners! for the duration of the retreat. Jody’s busy checking in with Alex so she misses out on partnering up --but that’s ok, so did Donna. Looks like they’re stuck with each other!

Another sheriff asks Donna if she “heard about the body?”, piquing Jody’s hunter interest. Donna assures her that this is very uncommon. 

Jody heads off alone to make a call to Sam. Some minor clunky exposition ensues where Jody finds out Dean’s back, and mostly normal. She then tells them about the case, and Dean offers their assistance. Jody declines. Jam flirtations intensify. Dean’s going stir crazy though so the boys head to Hibbing.

Jody tries to make inroads on the case by examining the body, but is rebuffed by the morgue attendant. Donna arrives and makes nice with Shelly, and the two are quickly ushered over to take a look at the victim. Donna can’t make heads or tails of the bite pattern on the vic. Jody quips, “I was afraid of that.” But keeps Donna in the dark about what she suspects.

Meanwhile that night, secret smoker Howie takes the trash out, and ends up Hibbing’s next mysterious victim.

At the retreat, Donna and Jody start asking Sheriff Cuse about the case, but he’s interrupted by Deputy Graham. They have an issue with “the raffle.” They take off, and it’s then that Donna notices Doug the Dick flirting and dancing with another woman. She exits so she doesn’t have to witness the gross. Jody heads off to pester Len again. He admits there’s been another attack. Jody’s on Hunter High Alert.

She makes a check-in call to Alex, and this episode is kind of hilarious when it comes to her interactions with Alex. Alex is painted as a total hellion that Jody can barely control, but that’s just not the Alex we met in Alex Annie… or in any other episode. I know it’s in the show, so it’s not out of character.I just have to accept that Alex went through a brief phase of adjustment. Donna catches the phone call, and calls Jody out on her less than perfect homelife. Jody admits there was another attack. Then they proceed to have a conversation about Alex and teens and I’m still baffled about it all. Alex isn’t a normal teen? Approaching it simply from Jody’s point of view --connecting with a teenager that she didn’t raise, etc. --does help. I think in many ways Jody had slammed the door shut on any domestic home life for a long time. Suddenly she’s in charge of someone, and that alone is a struggle --it’s extra fun when she’s an ex-blood slave to vampires.

The next morning, the boys pull up to the sheriff’s retreat.

For science:

They share notes with Jody. It seems that both victims were missing leather items. Donna arrives with coffee for her new BFF, and recognizes “Agent Frehley” and “Agent Criss”. (Boy, I hope they used the same names! I wonder if they use names regionally?) 

They make small talk, but in order to keep Donna in the dark about the supernatural, Jody agrees to distract her while the brothers investigate.

Dean and Sam head off to talk to the sheriff...(four men raise their hands)...of Hibbing. Sheriff Len gives them an update on the “animal attacks” while everyone whips out their dicks and measures them right there in the hotel lobby.

Sam wants surveillance video of the attacks but the Sheriff denies there’s any record of it. Meanwhile, the deputy sips his coffee...shiftily. After the flock (herd? flight?) of sheriffs departs, Sam heads off to crack the police evidence database while Dean decides to crack the deputy. (Note to self: Mind out of the gutter Mind OUT OF THE GUTTER failed)

Classic dialogue alert:

Dean: This badge means something.

Sam: I made it at Kinkos.

Dean: Yeah, you did. Be proud of that.

Meanwhile Jody and Donna tour the expo and end up next to a firearms dealer. He tries to sell them a small handgun so they can be armed while they have their nails done.

The two sheriffs exchange a LOOK and proceed to display their weapons knowledge and prowess about a larger gun on display. “Ten pounds pull weight. Cute,” Donna notes.

“Call this a big one? Hope you drive a porsche,” Jody says. Boom DEAD.

Donna’s douche ex husband Doug strolls up and calls Donna a wolf in sheepskin. “Thank you,” Donna replies, adorably. “Wolves are majestic creatures.” Doug proceeds to rip Donna about her weight again, asking why she’s not out on the prowl herself.

Donna tries to laugh it off (while we stop paying attention to the episode so we can start plotting an elaborate “Goodbye Earl” death for Doug). Jody’s had enough. She asks Doug what his problem is, calls him a douche, and off he goes. Donna is understandably pissed about this because, even as we all get Jody’s motivation, she’s also made things harder for Donna. “‘Til you’ve actually lost a husband, you keep your mouth zipped about mine.” Jody suffers a bloody flashback from this, remembering how she found her son eating her husband. UUUUGH (Me: Gives Jody a hug and a warm blanket and a bunny.) Donna notices the dead look on Jody’s face and apologizes quickly, then heads outside to get some air.

Meanwhile, Dean circles around to the deputy and schmoozes him over. The deputy admits that the password on the surveillance server was changed by the sheriff a day ago.

Armed with information about the suspicious sheriff, we cut to Donna. She’s outside when she notices a blood trail. She follows it to find Sheriff Len busting out in fangs and crouching over the body of the pretty young Sheriff Goodhill. (Me: The one part of this episode I didn’t like because I felt like that sheriff was being punished for going out on a date with our protagonist’s ex.)

Jody checks in on Dean, asking how he’s been doing since she heard he took off a while ago. God, I love how Jody takes the time to care about her friend. JODY you are the best. Sam tells them the surveillance videos were deleted and we think we’re at a dead end when Donna runs up. She pulls Jody aside.

Jody immediately apologizes for butting in but Donna is one billion percent past this. “You ever think there are things out there? Things that don’t end up in the police blotter?” She tells Jody about the fanged sheriff. Jody believes her immediately. Donna quickly recalls which room the sheriff booked at the hotel because she is my very favorite sunflower.

Jody and Donna bust into the sheriff’s room. There’s sunscreen on the bed (heh heh vamps) and Donna scribbles out the tracings of a note on the bedside table. It’s an address.The door rattles and Jody whips out a machete. It’s the Winchesters! Hey, buddies. Donna learns quickly that the sheriff is a vampire when Jody drops this fact like a dead potato (shut up, that’s totally a popular phrase).

“You wanna give her the talk?” Dean asks Jody. Well, sure I do, pardner.

After “The Talk” they all head outside. “Heck,” Donna says. “When we were at the weight loss spa?”

“Monsters,” Dean says. “Suckin’ on your fat.”

Dean. Bean. Just...sigh.

Anyway, they’ve got an address now and it’s time to head out. Dean tries to get Donna to stay at the retreat. DEAN. BEAN. >:( But Donna and Jody insist.

The farmhouse is indeed old and creepy and mist covers the ground. Dean pulls out machetes for everyone (YAY) and tells Donna that she’s gotta chop of the head of the vamp. She takes this in totally calmly because she’s Donna Fucking Hanscum.

Sheriff Vampire pops up and tells Sam to run but a vampire gang’s already got everyone else. They knock out Sam and Dean and hold Jody and Donna hostage. Everyone gets tied up in the barn.

Hippie Vampire runs her hand longingly down Dean (get mind out of gutter get mind out of GUTTER) and tells him they’re going to use “every part of the buffalo.” Sheriff Vampire tells the hippie that he doesn’t kill people anymore. In fact, he stood over Sheriff Goodhill and vamped out over her blood, but didn’t bite.

“A vampire that doesn’t feed is like a tiger eating salad,” the vampires explain. (So...like Sam, amirite?) It’s a nature v. nurture argument and they’re going to destroy Hibbing until Sheriff Vampire goes back to the nest. They only found the sheriff because he got his photo in the paper from running a police retreat. “You didn’t just go straight. You became a damn cop. Now THAT is wild, man.”

Len and the hippies (the worst band name) chat while the hunters all saw at their ropes. The hippies try to force Len to kill the trapped hunters but he refuses, so Hippie Vampire chops his head off. Just then Dean busts free and starts to fight the vamps. Sam and Jody do what they can while still tied up when suddenly Hippie Vampire hisses at Jody, ready to chomp her. WHAM SLICE Donna chops her head right off.

“Hakuna matata, Lady,” Donna says. We all jump up and cheer shouting BEST CHARACTER EVER.

Outside everyone checks in with each other. Donna feels sick about chopping off her first head but she’s still standing. Jody and Donna MEGA BOND over it.

Dean and Sam check in with each other because oh yeah, this isn’t Wayward yet. Dean admits that for the first time since he got back he doesn’t feel like the Mark of Cain is pushing him to do things. Sam raises his brow at this because MY DUDE that’s a long time of pretending everything is fine.

“Knowing that these things are out there makes the world seem...I don’t know...bigger, darker,” Donna says. Jody offers to keep Donna apprised of how to fight monsters and they all head off to their lives while Dean rubs the arm with the Mark in a totally normal, not-suspicious manner.

What the Quotes?

You are true blue as ever, Donna.

I love the smell of parchment in the morning.

She smokes grass under the bleachers but at least she’s not luring men to their deaths.

Oh, pal, the FBI doesn’t do cute.

What the cuss? A vampire?

I’m sure it was all kombucha and kumbaya.

Are you feeling dirty, Len? ‘Cause we’re about to have a bloodbath.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[jenhikes]

The Evolution of Gear

I recently, as a member of the Green Mountain Club, read an article in their quarterly publication about a man who decided to thru hike the Long Trail using the gear early hikers would have used back in the 1910s (when the trail system was officially open for use). This interesting read got me thinking to how much gear has changed in the past 100 years.  I thought it would be fun to do a little research and share my findings with all of you guys.  I hope you find it as fun to read as I did writing it!  Since the article I read was replicating a thru hike of a trail in 1917, that's as far back as I decided to go.  Since the National Park System in the US was developed and created only a few years prior to this, I decided that many people were more than likely not camping recreationally before this period.  Granted, people were following their herds to the high country for the summer and camping out long before this, I find that those "headed to camp" accounts don't really make for good backpacking gear stories.    

The Early Years

One of the first things that stuck out to me in the article I read in Long Trail News about the gear was this paragraph: 

"For food, bread and bacon will keep you going with little weight." "No person should ever travel The Long Trail without axe, compass, and matches" "A tent is not necessary on most of the trail; it may be needed in the southerly part if the hiker desires to sleep out, in which case a very light, small tent of balloon silk is advised" 

Already the gear differences and advice are pretty fun to read about.  I also loved reading that Mike MADE HIS OWN PACK out of brown ash wood.  Yep, that's right.  A "pack basket" was all the rage back in those days.  For an example of gear you would have carried in those days in your pack basket see below (it's also worth noting that back in those days it wasn't uncommon for hikers to cut boughs off trees to make a bed for the night; since that is no longer done for obvious LNT ((Leave No Trace)) reasons, it's worth noting that the hiker here stuffed a pillowcase with leaves): -Wool blanket -Homemade waterproofed cotton tarp and cotton groundsheet -Camp knife (hand forged) in a leather belt sheath -2 Quart metal canteen -Bug Net -Alcohol stove with alcohol carried in a GLASS bottle -Tin cup -Matches -Waxed cotton food bag -Candle for nighttime -Wool knickers -Wool knee-length socks -Leather hat -Leather boots -Rubberized poncho FOOD:  -Hardboiled eggs, rice, cashews/almonds/raisins, bread, cheese, cured meat, canned fish, and hershey's chocolate

I also love that for this hike Mike used birch and beech twigs to brush his teeth!

1940's-1950's

I couldn't find much for the period in between our history hiker and the WW2 era, so I'm going to skip ahead to Earl Shaffer - the first ever thru hiker on the Appalachian Trail.  It can be said that Shaffer was the first ever Warrior Hiker - he took to the trail to "Walk off the War" in 1948.  Earning himself the name "The Crazy One", he was the first person to ever hike the trail all the way through in one year.  At first, even the Appalachian Trail Conference (later, Conservancy) didn't believe him!  He may also be considered the first minimalistic hiker, being that his tent failed in the first week on the trail and he got rid of it, saving himself an additional five pounds!  Back when Shaffer thru hiked in 1948, he was taken in by friendly fire tower wardens and fed meals; he even hiked hunting camp to hunting camp in Maine.  On his thru hike in 1998, Shaffer relayed via letter to Gene Espy (the second thru hiker of the AT) by letter that the trail had become much more difficult than when they hiked it decades before, the trail conservancy having routed the trail up to the higher and harder ridge lines instead of being down low near the hunting camps.  An example of his gear can be found below:  -Mountain Troop rucksack -Military issue poncho (which also served as his rain shelter at night!) -A Daisy Mae Rainhat -Match safe -Compass -Sheath knife and small handaxe -Sewing kit -Snakebite kit -Mountain Troop cook kit -Wool blanket -Wool pants -Russel Birdshooter Boots

Gene Espy, our second-known thru hiker went through northbound in 1951.  He had some great gear as well, including one of my favorite luxury items - an inflatable pillow! His gear weighed in at a whopping 50 lbs and included the following (from gearjunkie):  -Steel frame pack -Lamb’s wool used as comfort under the heavy pack straps -Tent (without a floor) and tent posts -Down sleeping bag -Watch; to know his time between shelters -Guide books -Hatchet and rope -Inflatable pillow -Camera -New Testament Bible -Diary and pencil -Collapsible cup -25 caliber pistol (which he claimed he used as protection from bears) -Carbide lamp (this is what miners used back then as a headlamp - it requires chemical reaction to make it work!) -Nylon poncho used for a rain jacket and as flooring in the tent -Pants from the Navy to protect his legs from thorns -Two long sleeve shirts -2 pairs of hiking socks -Hat -Tin water cup -Snakebite kit -Boots FOOD:  Gene carried about a week of food at a time, and his favorite foods included chocolate pudding, loaves of bread, and Baby Ruth candy bars.  

1960's and 1970's

With the 1960s and 70s came the "heyday" of the American National Park System.  More and more folks were able to get out and enjoy not only the national parks of our country, but also the backcountry and hiking trails provided by our parks!  Check out some of these vintage ads I found while scouring the internet.  Heck, I know some sleeping bags that weigh more than 3.5 lb have even tried to make their way out onto a backpacking trip I was leading!

During the late 1950s the AT saw it's first female thruhiker, Grandma Gatewood.  She would go on to hike the trail two more times during her life, making her the first multi completer of the trail.  While I couldn't find a comprehensive gear list, I did find a photo of her gear (circa 1960) (thanks, Reddit!) at the Appalachian Trail Museum.  It's safe to say she was the first ever "dirtbag hiker", hiking with a homemade denim sack, a rain cape made from a shower curtain, and was the first hiker to ditch the heavy boots for lightweight shoes, recommending Keds to all hikers she met! She was also the first thru hiker to "slackpack" her way along the AT.  She often wandered off the main trail to knock on doors to ask for a place to stay or to get a hot meal.  

The 1970s is when backpacking really started changing.  Jansport and Kelty led the way in creating lightweight external frame packs with specially designed pockets for hauling gear ergonomically.�� Also during this era we see the very first Therma-A-Rest mattress hit the market.  Now, instead of cutting live tree boughs, hikers can sleep on an ACTUAL mattress in the woods! Check out the weight of those "lightweight boots" by the way - only THREE POUNDS!

You also start seeing the commercial freeze dried and dehydrated food industry taking off.  Yes, America - you too can eat like our astronauts!

(Photos here are sourced from google images)

1980's and 1990's

Lightweight was the name of the game!  Ultralight was truly being developed during this time period, despite how many of us would think it was something more recent.  In fact, 2-lb packs were being developed during the late 1970s and early 1980s!  Nike was even on the forefront of developing a lightweight hiking shoe/boot hybrid - the Lava Dome! While many folks were still carrying external frame packs during this period, the frame during this time started moving to the INSIDE of a pack - something unheard of before now!  During this time period we also meet some of THE names in backpacking that many hikers still know today, the most famous of whom is Ray Jardine.  Ray and his wife, Jenny, began thru hiking in the late 1980s and can still be found out on the trail today.  In 1991, Ray wrote a book about his PCT thru hike, talking about how it was possible to hike much faster and lighter by making homemade gear.  In fact, he still regularly publishes and hikes today.  

During the 1990s we see many what we would call "Cottage Industry" companies starting to pop up as well.  Dana Designs and Gossamer Gear both got their start in the 1990s when regular hikers started getting fed up with not being able to find what they wanted in gear that was commercially available.  

During this time we also see people hiking in light athletic shoes versus heavy boots.  Laurie "Mountain Laurel" Pottieger (of ATC fame) switched to running shoes during her 1987 thru hike of the AT.  While she switched back to boots for rockier sections of the trail, at the time it was practically unheard of (and was done by the Jardines as well!)

(photo of the boots from google images and Jenny and Ray from RayJardine.com)

The 2000's and 2010's

These days, fast and light is the name of the game.  With more and more FKT (fastest known time) attempts on the trail and more hikers getting savvy to the "less is more" way of backpacking, it's possible to hike more than 2000 miles carrying little more than a daypack.  Some of the more famous names in the game right now include Anish, String Bean, and Lint.  For an example of what these ultralighters are carrying, check out Lint's thru hiking gear list.  

While not everyone is going ultralight, it's pretty unusual to see anyone out on the trail these days carrying more than 35 lb.  We know now that the average pack should be 25% or less of your total body weight.  With lighter packs comes the ability to wear lighter shoes as well. In fact, reading surveys of commonly used gear online you'll see that less than 20% of hikers are now wearing boots on trail, opting for lightweight trail running shoes instead.    

And there you have it - a pretty comprehensive history of how gear has changed since the early days!  Gone are the days when heavy boots and 50-lb packs are the norm.  Here to stay are the lighter, easier to carry packs with quick drying shoes and gear to get you from point A to point B in relative comfort!

Would you have been able to thru hike Grandma Gatewood style?  When did you first start collecting your backpacking gear?  What piece of gear do you remember and miss the most? 

[madfatty]

this here and now with you is how - an mmfd fic No. 21

First of all, lovely anon, thank you for asking.  It’s been a long six months of me trying to write anything, and your ask gave me a direction to go in, so ta very much. I think this is a much happier concoction than my usual fare.  I hope that’s what you were hoping for.

In the interest of full disclosure “she’d start an argument in an empty room” isn’t mine.  I heard it on telly and it struck me as exactly the way Finn would have thought about her, so I’m borrowing it. It comes from S1E1 of Shetland. Another excellent show.

I cannot state loudly or often enough just how vital @how-ardently is to you seeing any of this.  She is amazing and I couldn’t do it without her. If it turns out that no one else likes this thing, I will be forever sustained by the little gleeful noises she made during our editing session. Erin gives great squee.

Much love and thanks to @bitchy-broken for some pertinent information, mainly pickled onions and Peugeot 205’s.  Turns out, Finn’s favourite is Dawn’s favourite too. Who’d have thought! Thank you darling girl. xo

The title comes from the Cure song, This. Here and Now. With You. from the album 4:13 Dream. 

I haven’t tagged anyone, save to thank those who helped, because interest seems to be waning and I don’t wish to assume.

I thank you for your interest. xo

this here and now with you is how

If you’d asked Finn that morning how he thought the day would go, it would be nothing like this. It’s not how his life usually works, but as he’s about to discover, the universe hasn’t completely given up on him just yet.

He’s spent the morning moping about the house, growing more and more disheartened with every passing hour, the prospect of the rave without Rae sitting heavy on him. He needs to find a way to tell Chop and the others that he’s changed his mind about going, without Chop making a big deal out of it and maybe saying something to Rae before Finn gets the chance to. He’s working himself up to calling her and seeing if she wants to hang out, at the pub or the chippy, or even here at his. He’ll walk up and down the high street for three hours window shopping, or sit in her room and silently watch her read all night. Whatever, wherever she wants, as long as it’s the two of them.

He keeps sideling up to the phone, as if he’s trying to take it by surprise. He picks up the receiver and dials the first four digits of her number before hanging up and scuttling back to the safety of the front room. To his great relief, attempt number eight is interrupted by a knock at the door and suddenly the girl in question is standing on his front step, shrugging her way past him and apologising for showing up unannounced. He’s had fantasies that started like this.

Rae tells him she’s had a huge, hurtful, screaming row with her mum, so awful that she threw some things in her backpack and slammed the door behind her, with no idea where she was going. She says she just started walking and before she knew it, she was outside his house.  She hopes he doesn’t mind.

Mind? Finn knows it’s bad and that she’s upset but he can’t stop smiling. She’s come to him. Not Chloe, not Archie; him. His face is starting to hurt. He has to drag himself away, offering tea so he can get himself together, but it’s no good; a glimpse of his reflection in the kitchen window while he waits for the kettle to boil only proves how horribly he’s failing.  

When Gary strolls into the kitchen on the lookout for a cuppa and a biscuit, Finn doesn’t even pretend to hide his excitement.

Gary knows all about Finn’s romantic woes, since the evening, not two weeks ago, when a very drunk Finn had come home fed up and forlorn after a particularly dismal night at the pub of not snogging Rae. It had taken very little prompting on Gary’s part for a weepy Finn to share the whole sad and sorry tale. He been supportive and sympathetic and a little damp eyed himself, so it’s hardly surprising that this latest development has Gary wearing a grin to match his own.

There’s an embarrassing but endearing bum wiggling dad-dance that would normally have him groaning, but all is forgiven when Gary offers to go and make up the spare room for Rae. It earns him a fierce bear hug and the last of the Hobnobs. The pair stop short of high-fiving each other, but continue giggling like three year olds. It takes Finn another couple of minutes to compose himself before he can head back upstairs. He really should be at least a little bit ashamed of just how pleased with himself he’s feeling, but he’s not. She picked him.

Before she can change her mind, he calls to tell Chop that there’s been a change of plans; Rae isn’t just going with them, she’s stopping at his (That’s right, Chop. Rae Earl is staying at mine. How’s things with Izzy?), so Chop’s going to have to collect Chloe, because of course, Rae will be riding with Finn. Even Finn can concede that the thrill it gives him to say those words out loud is borderline pathetic. He’s still buzzing when he hangs up midway through Chop’s razzing him for finally making a move.

The thought of her getting ready behind his bathroom door has Finn reciting starting line ups from the last ten Cup finals and trying not to touch himself.  He has to hold his shirt down in front of him quickly when she appears shyly at his bedroom door, all powdered and perfumed in the prettiest blue dress and leggings.  It’s an awkward shuffle past her to his turn in the bathroom where he’s immediately enveloped in a sweet scented cloud of her making, and he spends the next three and a half minutes moaning her name into a washcloth while the hot water runs.

+++

She’d start an argument in an empty room, he used to gripe to anyone who’d listen, but it’s mostly him she seems to argue with, and he doesn’t pretend to not know why. It was all his fault, them not getting along from the beginning.

He’s always been a bit shit about new people and by the time he’d figured out he’d fucked up, she’d decided she didn’t want a bar of him either, and the more he tried to fix it, the worse it got. Every time she’d make an effort he’d get all flustered and think she was taking the piss and he’d snark at her, earning her silent, seething ire and even the pursed-lipped disapproval of the gang. So he couldn’t really blame her when her response to his feeble, yet heartfelt attempts to make amends the next time he saw her was to snap and snarl and roll her eyes.

Thankfully, he stopped being quite the dickhead and she eventually took pity on him. Now they’re friends. He wants them to be more, and he wishes he knew if she did too. It keeps him awake nights, trying to figure out if she likes him as much as he likes her. It’s so hard to tell sometimes.  

It’s easier in his fantasies. She leaves no room for doubt there.

+++

Not an hour goes by where he’s not thinking about Rae Earl.  

The sun is warm on his bare skin but it’s nothing to the heat coming from Rae’s gaze. She doesn’t like football, she’s said it a million times and yet here she is, sat in the middle of a beautiful summer Sunday watching him intently, albeit surreptitiously.

It’s just a friendly kick-about with some of the lads but skill will always out, and he makes a blinding break down the length of the whole field. He’s so fast, none of his team can keep up with him and he has to go it alone. The opposition are so flummoxed by his dexterity that the goal he scores is inevitable and nothing short of poetry.

The tiny crowd of assembled friends goes wild and Finn waves humbly in their direction.

Out of the corner of his eye he catches Rae on the move. One minute she’s sitting on the sidelines pretending to read (he knows she’s pretending because he hasn’t seen her turn a page since he took his shirt off) and the next she’s walking straight across the pitch. The other lads have to run round her as she cuts a determined path directly to him. He’s all sweaty from scoring his goal and he’s pretty sure he smells but it doesn’t stop her. In front of God and everyone she wraps him up in the tightest of hugs. This time she uses both arms, it’s not just an awkward pat on the back and when he chances to squeeze her, she squeezes him back. Her breath is hot on his already overheated skin when she whispers, ‘I have to have you. Now. Fancy coming back to mine?’ He doesn’t even stop to pick up his shirt.

Or he’s sitting across from her in the pub when she goes off on one, her perfect mouth going a mile-a-minute as she rants and raves, holding everyone around her in her sway. She is majestic and unstoppable and everybody wants her. He takes a shallow sip of his beer, licks at the foam on his lips, and in a strong, sure voice that carries through the pub, says something inflexibly flirty and devastatingly funny and Rae is undone. She reaches for him across the glass strewn table, knocking over drinks in her haste to get to him. The pub erupts in catcalls and cheers and he smiles in the knowledge that every man in that room wishes they were him.

Sometimes they’re in his room, just the two of them and he’s searching for the perfect record to tell her how he feels. He’s spouting some insightful and practiced nonsense about the band or a particular song or whatever and she’s suddenly overcome by how smart and cool he is and Rae can no longer keep her hands off him. Many an album has suffered in this scenario, as she throws him up against the wall to have her way with him. No matter that the stylus skates heavily across the imaginary vinyl causing irreparable damage. In Finn’s mind, there is no sacrifice too great for the taste of Rae’s kiss.

That’s one of his favourites, because after the mind bending, body melting sex, it’s just them lying on his bed, the room full of music and his arms full of her. He can look at her as long as he wants. He gets to hold her, and listen to all her secrets and tell her all of his, and when she goes, he can still smell her on his pillow.

Finn’s got a million of them, lots of little dreams to shore him up and keep him going on those days when nothing else can.

There is a pain, a tiny little hurt, an ache that he carries every day. It’s sits in his chest, in his throat, in his belly and it belongs to her. It flares when she’s with him and it screams when she’s not. It’s not a sad thing, at least he doesn’t think so. It has a sweetness and a softness that soothes and comforts him. He wouldn’t know himself without it now. It’s how he knows he’s alive.

+++

The Lou Reed line drifts in and out, too impatient to wait it’s turn among the other thoughts in the loop tumbling around head, Bright blue and yellow. Green apples. Happy. It feels like forever since he’s held anything as sharp and real as the hope that’s filling him now, the promise of something wonderful a definite taste on his tongue. The road rolls out before them, straightforward and clear and he follows it eagerly.

What if he just keeps driving?  Down this road as far as it will take them and then onto the next, with Rae wrapped around him for warmth, for safety, forever. Into the dark, into another place where he can have this all the time.

He’s not going that fast, but her hands tighten around him until her fingers lock together and her palms are flat across his chest. She shifts a little further forward until all he can feel is all of her pressed up close behind him and the poke of her pixie chin resting on his shoulder.

Finn’s heart is tilted so far forward in his chest it’s up against his ribs and the butterflies in his belly are doing cartwheels. He may be about to black out. The scooter jerks and swerves. He can’t keep his eyes on the road or his hands still on the throttle.  Everything in him is drawn to the girl at his back. If he doesn’t tell her now, they’re going to crash. There’s a stretch of road just up ahead that’s shaded by an avenue of trees. At the first opportunity he pulls over onto the grass verge and stops the bike.

“What happened, what’s wrong? Is the bike broken?” Rae frets, as she steps off the back of the scooter.

“No. I… I just,” he begins, shaking off his helmet.

“Then why did we stop?” She’s standing there with her hands on her hips, her helmet still on and framing the soft roundness of her face.  God, she’s adorable. It takes him a second or two to answer her.

“You need to know something.”

“Are we out of petrol? Did you get us lost?” The worry is gone from her voice and she slips back into her teasing tone. Always teasing.

“No. We’re not out of petrol and we’re not lost. I need to tell you something.”

“It couldn’t wait till we got there?”

“No. I have to tell you now. While we’re on our own.”  

“We’ve been on our own all afternoon, you could’ve…” She’s still teasing, and he does like it, but there are times when he wishes she didn’t feel the need to fill the air with noise. When she’d see that he just needs a moment to get there and he’ll tell her what she wants to know. It comes so easy to her, she’s so sure of everything, maybe she thinks it’s easy for everyone.

“Please, shut up Rae.  I need you to shut up and listen to me. Christ,” he groans, “I can’t breathe.”

“Oh God, Finn.  Sit! Sit! Put your head between your knees.”

“I don’t need to…”

“Put your head between your knees, Finn. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth… slowly.”

“Just stop!” Finn’s hands fly up, a barrier between them, a physical attempt to stop the flow of her words. He might have been a little too loud and a little too adamant. He’s not cross, just desperate to get her attention. He’d hoped it would be obvious but from the look on her face, he’s doubtful.

He’s long been a fan of her facial gymnastics, he has an actual list of his top ten favourites and if the stakes weren’t so high, he’d be admiring the current set of acrobatics that are rapidly manifesting themselves into an impressive expression of outrage. There’ll be no way back from it if she gets a full head of steam so he’s got to get in first. It’s now or never.  

“What you need to know is; I like you Rae. A lot. Proper, full-on, hand-holding, snogging, you’re-the-one-for-me ‘fancy’ and I think you might fancy me too, well I hope you do, but I can’t tell for sure.”

There was a plan. He’d had a plan and this was not it. In all the time he’d practiced this, never once did he imagine that it would be happening by the side of the road. Shit. And now he’s lost control of his hands and his feet. He’s pacing up and down like a mad man and waving his hands about but he can’t stop moving.

“I was going to wait to see how tonight went, but today has been so amazingly perfect and I figured if I wait, I’m gonna blow it. I’ll do something or I’ll say something stupid and it’ll cock everything up and I don’t want everything cocked up, I’m sick of everything getting cocked up.  I just want to be with you, Rae. That’s all I want and I don’t want anything to get in the way. Not me, not our friends; not anything, because, because…” He stops in front of her, scared shitless because he could be about to commit romantic suicide, but he needs to see her face when he says this next bit, “I think we belong together Rae.”

He’s compiled a list (another one, he has many), collecting all their similarities like some cheesy TV detective in the hope that she’ll see they are meant for each other. He’d had thoughts of introducing the contents of his list gradually, over a period of time but he’s about to burn up the first four or five casual ‘me too’ conversations due to blind panic, because she’s starting to open her mouth. She’s not supposed to talk yet.

“Listen Rae, just listen.” And there go his hands again, waving frantically between them, without his permission “We’re the same, you and me. You bite your nails, I bite my nails too.” It’s not the strongest of openings, but he can still feel her hands on his chest and his are flapping about like landed fish and it’s the first thing that comes to mind.  The pacing starts again. “We have all the same posters on our walls. You can talk shit about music for hours; no, not shit, stuff, smart stuff, and music is the one thing I feel confident talking about because I know my stuff too. You always choose pickled onion flavoured Monster Munch. Pickled onion is my favourite. I’ve got a whole drawer full of tazos saved for you because I know you collect them.”

“You prefer Q to the NME and you think Select and Melody Maker are okay but Vox is a try-hard Q and you never buy Smash Hits ever,” he forces himself to look at her. Her eyes are so wide he has to look away again or he’s never going to get it all out. “It’s just for nicking the posters out of in the newsagents if there’s anyone decent in them. And you’re right. About all of it.” He’s rambling, he can hear it, but it’s so important that she knows.  He studies the flattened grass beneath his boots for a moment before he continues.

And, and… we dress the same.” He stumbles here, his voice breaking just a little because this one makes him giddy. They wear the same uniform, and it has to mean something. It’s partly how he recognised her. When he thinks about her red flannel shirt and how he has one almost exactly the same… the idea that it could be one of his shirts she’s wearing, that it would still be warm from the heat of her… it’s one of his favourite thoughts.

At some point, she’s taken off her helmet while he wasn’t looking. He’s looking at her now. It’s cooler here under the trees, but her face is still flushed. Her hair is flat against her head except for the bits that the breeze has stirred up. It’s caught the hem of her dress too and her frustration at trying to contain them both is evident, but there’s an underlying agitation he knows has nothing to do with the wind. There’s an anxiousness about her, something that says she wants to run. He rushes on.

“But it’s not just that. The sameness. There’s loads of things, Rae. How independent you are. You never just follow along and you can exist outside the rest of us.” His voice is lower, he’d been excitable with the urgency of the situation before, and it had all come pouring out at high speed and possibly top volume, but now the seriousness of what he’s saying sets in. He wishes he were physically closer to her, but she may not be quite ready for that yet so he stays where he is. “How smart you are, and brave. And fierce and kind. And how you look after everyone. How you looked after me the night Nan died. I don’t think I would have got through that night, or the funeral, if it wasn’t for you. Did I ever say thank you? I hope so. I’ve thought it a million times since.”

It’s no good.  In his room, where he’s practiced this a hundred times, he’s already touching her by now, but she’s still so far away. On shaky legs he takes a deliberate step forward and waits.  

“Have I said pretty? Because you are Rae, so, so pretty. Sometimes, when I’m looking at you, I forget to breathe.” He can’t breathe now. While he was speaking he didn’t dare look at her and now that he’s stopped, he can’t look away. Her hands are knots, one around the strap of the motorcycle helmet, which she’s banging painfully against her knees and the other, still gripping the hem of her dress, is clawing at her thigh.

He’s never seen her lost for something to say before. It’s probably the shock, which Finn can understand, as he’s a little stunned himself. It’s killing him not knowing what she’s thinking, but he doesn’t dare ask.

“Is this a joke? Is that meant to be funny?” she says finally, her face a sour twist.

“Jesus no, Rae. I’ve never been more serious in my life.” He thought he’d been very clear. What did he miss? What didn’t he say?

Well done fuck-face. Happy now? You’ve broken her. Any other time you can’t string two words together, now you can’t shut up, and she thinks you’re joking.

He’s not stupid, despite recent appearances. In the beginning, he let his wariness and his mistrust override his good sense and so everything that came from his mouth was petty and catty and cruel. Since then, he’s fought so hard for her to like him that he rarely says anything at all in case it’s the wrong thing. He’d hoped the impression he gave off is of the thoughtful, strong, silent type, but he’s afraid he just comes across as thick and surly.

Before Rae, he always thought of himself as maybe kind of cool, but she reminds him who he really is, some saddo teenage boy trying desperately, and failing miserably, to impress someone infinitely cooler.

It’s such a specific feeling, this thing for her that’s been growing steadily inside him for weeks now and he knows what it is.  He’s not sure if the feeling is enough though.  He knows he should tell her before someone else comes along, someone smarter, who sees what he sees and who can say the words in just the right way so she’ll get how amazing she is, because Finn’s been trying to tell her through touch when maybe what Rae needs is the words.

He didn’t mean to hit her with it all at once, he was going to take it slow. The latest plan, formulated in the bathroom while he got his breath back, was to spend tonight glued to her side, take every opportunity to touch her, to finally let her know how much he feels, but when he started, he couldn’t stop.

The hope that filled him and encouraged him to speak up wobbles at the look on her face. She looks like she’s trying not to cry. This is not how this was supposed to go.

“I… I’m sorry, Rae. I didn’t mean to upset you.  I’ll, I’ll take it all back if it’s not what you want, if I got it all wrong.” He can feel the panic rise as his world falls. He’s going to lose her. She’s going to break his heart. “I like you so, so much Rae, please don’t say we can’t be friends. That I can’t be around you. I know I’m an idiot and I’ve probably ruined everything, but please don’t say that.”

She’s fidgeting with the strap of her helmet but her eyes are locked on the grass beneath her. She’s quiet for the longest time, each second drags heavy before the next.  More than ever, he wishes he knew what she was thinking.  And the next moment, there’s that steel he knows and loves. Rae takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. She stands more solidly on the ground. The looks she gives him is of reservation and resolve.

“Finn…” she stops. She starts again. “So do you mean you…” she swallows thickly, “want to… that you really… fancy me? That you want to snog me?”

“For starters.” His smile is small and tentative at first until his face gets the better of him and he can no longer contain it. It splits sharply in two. “I want to snog you senseless,” he confirms eagerly, “all day, every day, and buy you chips and make you mixed tapes and hold your hand…”

With each new declaration, Finn inches closer, until she’s within his reach.  He leans in slowly because she hasn’t said yes yet, and he doesn’t want to count his chickens. The helmet she’s still holding comes away from her grasp with the lightest of tugs. Finn throws it behind him and it bounces noisily off the back of the scooter. Oh so gently, he takes the tips of her fingers between his and smiles at their ragged edges.  

“Well, go on then, if you’re going to.” She whispers, her eyes crinkling. It’s a challenge, just like she is and he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s one of the million things he likes about her, it’s on more than one of his lists, but what he also likes is that it’s coloured by a hint of nervousness that stirs a tiny hope in him that he may not be the only one who’s thought a lot about them doing this before.  There’s nothing but a breath between them and then there’s not even that. It’s the softest of touches, his lips on hers, and he’s lost.  

The pressure increases when she fits herself to him and it happens exactly like he knew it would. It drops like a stone down the middle of him, there’s a shift and a ‘click’, the last piece of the puzzle. Whether she realises it yet or not, she’s stuck with him now.

She’s got him caught up by the front of his jacket and the leather squeaks and sighs in the clutch of her fingers and he can’t think straight.  All the times he’d dreamed about her hands being on him.  

Her body against him like this is a gift he thought she’d never give. Her mouth is a revelation.  He searches out the softness of her skin. First the bits he’s learned by sight. He cradles the cool length of her neck, because he always wanted to know if she’ll shiver when he runs his finger from her hairline down beneath her collar. He traces the shell of her ear, brushes the apple of her cheek.  It’s a start and it’s perfect, but he wants to know all of her.

Finn bends himself to her, his grasp moving, greedily exploring. He’s hard for her and he wants her to know that it’s all her doing. He rests his hips against her and squeezes the delicious curve of her arse. He drags his eyes open to watch. Rae gasps a tiny ‘o’ and it’s devastating and addictive. She grips him harder, gently buffeting against him as if they were floating in a deep dark sea of green. She presses back into him with equal enthusiasm. She’s a natural, her mouth hungry and insistent, expertly drawing soft vowel sounds from Finn’s throat. He’s going to die here. They’ll find nothing but a little pile of ash and leather.

“Did I mention inappropriate touching? I meant to.” He murmurs, barely moving his mouth from her mouth. “Lots and lots of...”

“Walk before you run, okay Nelson? Let’s see how the kissing thing goes, shall we?” she chides him, before she falls on him again. He can taste the smile in her kiss and when her hands go through his hair he all but swoons.

The kissing goes great and for a long, long time.  So great, in fact, that between it and the face-splitting grin he’s wearing, his jaw is starting to ache, but there’s no way he’s stopping.  He will stand here by the side of the road in the growing dark surrounded by bugs and foxes and all manner of weird night-things as long as he can keep kissing her.  He doesn’t even care about the hooting and jeering coming from passing traffic, not even when he recognises the familiar grind of the not-quite-in-gear engine of Chop’s Peugeot 205.

Despite all her bravado, Rae becomes a little skittish when the car idles beside them and Finn swears by all that is holy that he will kill Chop a thousand times over, if he does anything to shatter the divinity of this moment. He can’t have that, so while Chop makes crude jokes and the others whoop and holler, Finn keeps his mouth on hers, not sparing a single breath to tell them all to bugger off,  just gathers Rae up closer, hums his pleasure across her tongue. He won’t risk even the slight movement of extending his middle finger to flip them off in case the spell breaks; instead, he chooses to ignore them until they get bored and drive off. He’s beside himself that she does too.

Whatever happens next is entirely up to Rae.  If she wants to find their friends and dance, he’ll dance, if she wants to ride around all night, just them and the dark, he’ll drive, and if she wants to see where all this kissing leads, Finn is more than happy to oblige.

This here and now is their beginning and he can’t wait to see where it takes them.

[thestarsofthenight]

Chapter 5: A Fine Laugh is the Best Medicine

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler

Pairings: mainly Ciel Phantomhive/Elizabeth Midford

Summary: “There is nothing more ridiculous than living in a country in which an orange-skinned man won an election,” Francis had said, ending the Midfords four-year-long stay in the USA. Three days later, Elizabeth lives in gloomy London, wishing to be back in sunny LA, when a murder case suddenly turns her life upside down, entangling her with Ciel Phantomhive, his duty to the crown, and his school-intern detective agency…

Navigation: Chapter Index

“I love people who make me laugh. I honestly think it’s the thing I like most, to laugh. It cures a multitude of ills. It’s probably the most important thing in a person.”

― Audrey Hepburn

London, England, United Kingdom – November 2016

That was not what Elizabeth had awaited.

After seeing the look on Ciel’s face and hearing his ominous words, she had braced herself to go to a very strange place – like something resembling a witch’s house. But now, she and the others were standing in front of St Bartholomew’s Hospital – the oldest hospital in Great Britain, having been founded in 1123.

“I thought that we would go somewhere odd,” Elizabeth told Ciel while they entered the building through the back door.

“The place is not odd,” he answered her, not looking at her but keeping his eyes in front of him. “The person we are about to meet, however, is.”

They headed downstairs, and people who saw them only glanced at them before continuing to where they had to go. The hospital staff had indeed got used to seeing a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy wandering around these halls, flanked by a weirdly mixed group of adults. If anyone of them was surprised to see Elizabeth, they did a magnificent job not to show it.

Elizabeth followed Ciel and the others into Barts’ morgue – a huge room in a sickening white with the doors of the containers on the walls and tables resembling operating ones here and there. Except them, there was nobody else in the room.

“I am not in the mood for your silly games, Undertaker,” Ciel said into the room, and Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at his words.

“Hi hi. I knew that you would come~” suddenly came a voice from somewhere around the room, interrupting Elizabeth who had just wanted to ask Ciel why the person they were here to meet was called “Undertaker.”

“Welcome, Earl…” continued the eerie voice, and one of the container doors opened. “Do you want to see how it feels to sleep in a container?”

Elizabeth got goose bumps when she saw a tall man with long silvery grey hair crawling out of the container. How morbid – a living person in a place for the dead.

The man wore a black suit which was a little bit too big for him and a black hat. The bangs of his hair were so long and unruly that they covered most of his face, but she could still see a scar running over his face and the wide grin on his face when he finally stood tall and odd in front of them. A glimpse at Lau, Angelina, and Grelle told Elizabeth that the man’s entrance had scared them more than it had her: They were staring at him with open mouths and Grelle cowered on the ground, completely horrified.

The man seemed to be quite amused by their reaction.

“Like I’ve said: I didn’t come here to play today,” Ciel replied with slight annoyance in his voice.

The strange man walked towards Ciel and pressed a finger against his mouth and only now, Elizabeth could see that he had very long fingernails which had been painted black and wore a ring on his left index finger.

“You don’t need to tell me. I know why you came. With just one look I can tell what is on your mind.” He giggled, and when he saw Elizabeth, his grin widened.

“You brought an interesting girl with you, Earl,” the man said. “And since you went out of your way to visit me, I’ll certainly do everything I can to help.” He walked to the morgue’s exit. “Please take a seat first; I’ll go make tea. It is all right when you sit on the tables. They were cleaned~” With these words, the man left the room.

“And this was…?” Elizabeth said, sitting down next to Ciel. Except for Sebastian who had positioned himself behind his master, Ciel had been the only one not to hesitate to sit down on one of the tables.

“Undertaker, yes,” he replied.

“Why is a forensic pathologist called ‘Undertaker’? I mean that cannot be his real name, right?”

“Because I am primarily a mortician, dearie,” the man, Undertaker, answered Elizabeth’s question when he stepped back into the room, a tray in his hand. “What I do here, I do for fun because I cannot get enough of the beauty of death.”

He offered them bone-shaped biscuits which he had stored in a jar looking like a cinerary urn, and Earl Grey poured into beakers.

He is like a darker version of the Mad Hatter, Elizabeth thought while eating one of the biscuits which were surprisingly quite delicious.

“Now then,” Undertaker started, sitting down himself, “you wanted to know about the Copycat?”

“No, I want to talk about the other prostitute-killing maniac walking around Whitechapel – Leather Bib,” Ciel replied, resulting in Undertaker starting to giggle.

“Sarcasm surely runs in your family, doesn’t it? It is always so refreshing to have a Phantomhive around~”

“If you do not start telling me soon what you have found out, you can as well start working on my funeral.”

“It would be a pleasure to put you in one of my custom-made coffins, Earl, but after the numerous times you have come to me have you forgotten that my services have a price?”

“I see, so that’s how it is. You’re very good at making business, Undertaker,” Lau said, trying to sneak into the conversation like he usually did. “How much money do you want for your information?”

“How much money?!” Undertaker exclaimed and jumped in front of Lau, startling him. His sudden movement and change in tone made Elizabeth flinch. What a Mood Whiplash.

“I don’t want any of the Queen’s money!” Undertaker snapped at Lau before walking back to Ciel, cradling his head in his hands. “Now, then, Earl… I only have one requirement…”

It has to do something with jokes! Elizabeth thought, eagerly watching the scene before her. Ciel implied that, and having got to know Undertaker’s nature it is quite likely!

“Show me a first rate laugh. If you do, no matter what you want to know, I’ll tell you!” Undertaker said with crossed arms.

100 points to Midford House!

“Fu, Earl, if that’s the case, let me handle this,” Lau said, stepping forward. “The sleeping tiger of the Shanghai’s New Year’s party, also referred to as my soul – this should satisfy you!”

And with a triumphant smile on his face, Lau told the lamest joke in the history of jokes in an insanely confident manner. Elizabeth was not even sure if this could still count as a joke as it had been so utterly terrible.

“It looks like he won’t talk, Lau,” Angelina said after recovering from the shock after hearing Lau’s excuse of a joke. “It can’t be helped.” She stepped forward. “Then, I, Madame Red, a beauty of high society, shall make my appearance now! If I ask him, he’ll sure be sure to tell us!”

“Madame!” Grelle yelled from the back, but Angelina already started to talk. Quickly, he covered Elizabeth’s ears, apparently knowing very well what would come now, and she saw Sebastian covering Ciel’s ears as well.

What could be worse than Lau’s “joke”? Elizabeth wondered. After an hour, Undertaker had enough of Angelina’s tale and wrapped a bandage around her mouth to make her shut up. He did the same to Lau – perhaps in the fear that he could make another “joke.”

“Thank you, Mr Sutcliff,” Elizabeth said to Grelle after he removed his hands again. He politely bowed at her.

“I guess it is your turn, Lady,” Undertaker announced, an amused smile on his lips.

“Leave her out,” Ciel interfered.

“Why should I? Let the Lady have her chance – maybe she can make me laugh?” He chuckled.

I am so in trouble, Elizabeth thought. After Ciel had asked her if she knew any good jokes, she had gone through the files in her mind – and had found not a single acceptable one. All she could think of had been silly rabbit jokes.

What do you call a happy rabbit? A hop-timist!

What did the rabbit give his girlfriend? A 14 carrot ring!

What do you call a rabbit transformer? Hop-timus Prime!

And so on.

I cannot tell any of them. But everyone stared at her, and her mind was blocked, and she ultimately blurted out, not forgetting to change her voice for the rabbit parts: “Comes a rabbit to a bakery and asks the baker: ‘Do you have bee sting?’ And the baker answers: ‘Yes, I do have bee sting cake.’ ‘Have to apply ointment.’”

In the silent morgue, the only one who giggled was Grelle.

This is beyond embarrassing – hopefully, this just stays a Big Lipped Alligator Moment.

Undertaker grinned at her. “Cute but not really suitable to cause laughing. You’re the only one left, Earl – it is your turn now.”

“Damn,” Ciel mumbled, but before he could start, Sebastian stepped forward. “It can’t be helped.”

“Sebastian?!” Ciel exclaimed, puzzled, and Undertaker said: “Oh, it’s the butler’s turn now?”

“Everyone, please step outside for a moment. You absolutely must not peek inside,” Sebastian said, and they dutifully obeyed.

Elizabeth, Ciel, Angelina, Grelle, and Lau stood in front of the morgue’s entrance for only a short period before they heard Undertaker’s hysterical laughter through the thick walls.

What has Sebastian done? Elizabeth asked herself when Sebastian opened the door for them and she saw Undertaker lying on the floor, his hair now covering his entire face, and holding his body in laughter.

“I have noticed that there are not enough ‘guests,’” Undertaker said after he had calmed down from his outburst and everyone else was seated on the tables again.

“Not enough?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes, not enough. Internal organs, of course. Don’t you think that the eternally sleeping ‘guests’ that lie in coffins are so cute? My hobby is to take out the organs for research.”

Immediately, Lau, Angelina, and Grelle stared at their beakers, turning white.

“They were autoclaved,” Ciel told them, annoyed.

“Ah, of course, they were,” Lau said with a knowing nod. “It is foolish to assume they weren’t.”

“You have no idea what ‘autoclaved’ means, right?”

Lau smiled confidently at him before he raised his hands. “Not at all.”

“To recite Wikipedia: ‘An autoclave is a pressure chamber used to carry out industrial processes requiring elevated temperature and pressure different from ambient air pressure. Autoclaves are used in medical applications to perform sterilization and in the chemical industry to cure coatings and vulcanize rubber and for hydrothermal synthesis.’”

Lau nodded at Ciel’s words.

“You still have no idea, right?” Ciel said, and Lau nodded. Ciel rolled his eyes. “It is a pressure chamber often used to sterilise things – this means that whatever you put in them, afterwards it is cleaner than CPR depicted in movies or TV shows. And this means that no matter what Undertake has done to these beakers, it is safe to drink from them.”

He turned to Undertaker. “Please, just continue.”

“Hi hi, of course, Earl.

“The prostitute, Anna Walker, isn’t a whole woman anymore – because her womb is gone. Just like the other three.”

“Interesting,” Ciel said. “The canonical five victims of the Ripper were badly-hit but only the second’s, Annie Chapman’s, and the fifth’s, Mary Jane Kelly’s, uterus was at least partially removed. But everyone’s, except Elizabeth Stride’s, abdomen was mutilated.”

“Indeed. Apart from that, the Copycat murdered their four victims – Courtney Alizarin, Molly Marrow, Erika Weikopf, and Anna Walker – in the same exact manner as the original Ripper did.”

“This could indicate that Jack the Rip-off’s real objective is to remove the uteri of these women but, for some reason, they made it look like it is the work of a maniac, only wanting to re-enact this famous crime.”

“Perhaps they want to pin the murder on a very desperate Ripperologist?” Elizabeth suggested.

Ciel looked at her like he had forgotten that she was still here before he spoke. “A nice suggestion, but flawed. After all, this would mean that the Copycat does not only either hold a personal grudge against these women or even needs five uteri for some reason but also that they also hate a Ripperologist whom they may or may not know. However, until now, there weren’t any hints suggesting that one – or all – of these overenthusiastic fanboys and wannabe detectives could be the culprit. Furthermore, if the Whitechapel Copycats indeed planned to pin the murder on a Ripperologist – don’t you think that they would have done a better job with the re-enacting? The dates of the murders are wrong, the times too. No letters have been sent so far. And, of course, there’s still the aspect of all four victims missing their uterus. A real Ripperologist wouldn’t have made such mistakes. And it’s not like it’s hard to find information on Jack the Ripper on the internet.”

“There’s something which makes me wonder: the CCTV cameras,” Elizabeth began. “London is one of the metropoles with the largest CCTV network. There are thousands of them, hidden in every corner. How could none of them have filmed the crime?”

“CCTV cameras could not prevent the bombings of July 7, 2005 – they may be everywhere, but the system is not flawless. In case of the Copycat Murders, there were cameras at the crime scenes but, mysteriously, all of them malfunctioned at the time of the killing. I do not know how but they somehow managed to manipulate the system.” Ciel shook his head. “If they had used my new, improved cameras, such a thing might not have happened. I showed them to some higher-ups, but, of course, they refused my offer. I work in the dark – and do a better job than them. Of course, they would not accept it if I invaded their beloved CCTV business.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Doesn’t Funtom only sell sweets and toys?”

“Yes, it does. Designing and building electrical devices is a hobby of mine – I created my cameras during an especially boring German lesson.”

“Ciel, why am I sending you to school if you don’t learn?” Angelina said, shaking her head.

“Because you refused to let me be homeschooled so that ‘I could learn how to socialise,’” Ciel replied.

They sound like Artemis Fowl and his mother whose name is, coincidentally, Angeline.

“Can I continue my report?” Undertaker said after a while. “Yes? Very well, hi hi.

“The Copycat may not have followed the Ripper’s moves until now, but the removal of Anna Walker’s left kidney could suggest that they will follow the original crime’s procedure more closely now.”

“And why should a cut-out kidney hint such a thing?” Angelina wanted to know.

Ciel blinked at her. “Don’t you remember? I had told you quite a lot about Jack the Ripper when you came over for dinner a few years ago.”

“You did? I guess, it slipped my mind.” Angelina shrugged.

He sighed. “After Jack the Ripper killed his fourth victim, he sent his famous letter ‘From Hell.’ Many letters have been sent by people, claiming to be the Ripper, but this particular letter is one of those which could truly be from Jack the Ripper themselves. ‘From Hell’ was sent to George Lusk, the chairman of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee, on October 15, 1888, alongside half a kidney because the letter states that the Ripper ate the other half of it.”

Grelle spitted out the biscuit he had just been eating into his beaker.

“Gross, Ciel,” Lau remarked. “People are eating here.”

“We are in a morgue, sitting on operating tables, eating bone-shaped biscuits, and drinking tea out of beakers while discussing a serial murder case.” Ciel looked at Undertaker. “Please, just continue.”

“The wombs and the kidney were removed with odd precision, signifying that no regular person could have committed these murders. Besides, if we compare the double event of November 21 to the original one of September 30, 1888, it is also evident that the killer is someone experienced. After all, just like Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes, Erika Weikopf and Anna Walker died around an hour apart from another. Unlike the original victims, Weikopf and Walker were not in possession of their uteri when they were found. It is impossible for someone not familiar with the handiwork to remove them with such precision and carefulness in such a short time like our Copycat did. After all, Weikopf and Walker did not die next to each other.” Undertaker poked one of his long fingernails into Ciel’s cheek. “You should have been able to figure that out too, Earl.

“It’s very likely that the murderer is an expert – in today’s world, there are numerous people possessing this very knowledge. This information will not cut down the list of suspects. Maybe if he knew you were here, it could lure them out. They will keep committing crimes, they definitely will, unless someone stops them. Can you stop them? Aristocrat of Evil, Earl of Phantomhive?”

“The world of darkness has the world of darkness’ rules. They wouldn’t murder random people for no reason. There must be an influence manipulating them from behind,” Ciel responded to Undertaker’s words. “I won’t be scared. No matter what tricks I have to use, I will solve this crime.

“Thanks for the tea and biscuits and providing information, Undertaker. It is time for us to go now.”

  ***

  It was already quite dark when they returned to the townhouse after leaving Lau in East End, and right before they could get out of the car Ciel’s mobile phone rang. He got it out of his coat pocket, and Elizabeth leaned in a bit to take a glimpse at the message he had received:

Come to my house, ASAP! S7616.

“Aunt Anne, we cannot discuss the information we have received just now,” Ciel said to Madame Red, putting away his phone. “I have to go to McMillan’s now.”

“Can I come with you?” Elizabeth asked.

“You should take her with you,” Angelina interjected before Ciel could say anything. “She is part of your team now, and it wouldn’t be gentlemanlike at all to leave her out.”

“Wouldn’t it be more ‘gentlemanlike’ to bring her home before it gets even darker than it already is?”

Angelina just wanted to reply something when Ciel’s mobile rang again. He took it out and read the message.

Just take Lizzy with you. No time to argue with DD.

I barely knew McMillan but… What is he? A psych?

Ciel sighed and put his phone away again. “You can accompany me, Lady Midford. Good evening, Aunt Anne, Mr Sutcliff.”

  ***

  “There you are!” McMillan greeted Ciel and Elizabeth when they entered his house, closing the door behind them.

The McMillan house was an old Victorian building, flanked by similar looking edifices. The façade was greyish-white, but lovingly raised flowers left and right on the way to the entrance, a friendly doormat telling you to ring the bell and visit them as well as colourful curtains hanging in the windows let the old house shine with life.

“My parents are not at home, and Niall and Nuala are at a sleepover,” McMillan informed them while they took off their coats.

“How is the party organisation going?” Elizabeth wanted to know.

“It’s going well. Thanks for asking. And, Lizzy, how was meeting Undertaker?”

“He’s a very interesting person,” Elizabeth replied.

McMillan chuckled. “Yes, he is. And he bakes the best biscuits. I always ask him to give me the recipe, but he keeps refusing.”

Undertaker’s cookie recipe is something even McMillan does not know? What is happening to the world as we know it?

“Lizzy, you can give me your coat, I will put it away for you.”

Elizabeth handed it to him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. C?”

So cute. They call each other by the first letter of their names.

Ciel also gave him his jacket, and in the few minutes McMillan was gone to hang up the coats somewhere, Elizabeth could take in the inner beauty of the house.

Everything about it was narrow. In every corner were books, books, and more books; here and there were toys. Everything was stuffed with signs of life, and still, Elizabeth did not feel claustrophobic – the house might be narrow, but the building’s warmth made you forget how small everything was. It was such a stark contrast to the wide and cold Phantomhive townhouse – just like the vibrant McMillan was the opposite of the cynical Ciel.

They climbed the stairs to McMillan’s room after he had returned. His room was just like the others – narrow and crammed to the ceiling.

“So… why did you tell us to come, N?” Ciel wanted to know, sitting down on McMillan’s revolving chair.

“There are two things I want to talk about,” McMillan said, putting a piece of paper and a box on his desk. Elizabeth moved closer to join the boys at the table.

McMillan folded out the piece of paper and revealed that it was a map with four crosses on it which had all been connected. “The first thing is this.

“While pondering over the case, I got the sudden idea to mark on a map where the crimes happened. When I marked the places, it did not come to my mind but, naturally, I had to connect the crosses – how could I not do it after all these maths lessons with Mr Boone? He literally screams at us to do this whenever we work with graphs.

“Well, I unconsciously connected the dots, and when I looked at it again, I noticed something odd.” McMillan ran his right index finger over the red line. “Do you see that? It could be nothing more but a coincidence, but when you see the linked marks, you see that these women were killed where they were killed in order to form a certain letter: ‘J.’”

“This could be helpful to determine the last crime scene,” Ciel said, and McMillan nodded. “But the ‘J’ looks a bit strange – the upper line is a little bit too round.”

McMillan nodded again. “Yes, I noticed that too. And then I experimented a little bit and…” He turned the map upside down. Ciel’s and Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the same time.

“Apparently, our culprit does not only want to carve in stone that he is indeed a copycat of Jack the Ripper but also wants to give you a message: ‘I know that you are there, Ciel Phantomhive,’” McMillan spoke out what all of them had thought.

“A game,” Ciel said, clenching his hands. “This is a game to them.”

“The Copycat is mocking you,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“They are, but I will not lose this game – I never lose a game.”

McMillan nodded. “You should see how often Ciel beats me at chess or Uno, Lizzy. And don’t get me started at Cluedo.”

“And what is the second thing you wanted to tell us?” Ciel wanted to know, and McMillan raised the box. “This was sent to me this afternoon.”

Elizabeth and Ciel shared a quick glance – The letter and the kidney – before they turned their attention back to McMillan who opened the box.

“I know what you are thinking – it has to be the Lusk letter, how can it not be the Lusk letter? I was thinking the exact same thing when the postwoman gave me a package without a sender, but I have to disappoint you. Well, at least, sort of.” He showed them the content of the box – a picture printed on a double sheet. Ciel took it out and put it on the desk.

On the right, the picture showed the image of half a kidney; on the left, there was the photographed letter “From Hell.”

From hell.

Mr Lusk,

Sor

I send you half the Kidne I took from one woman prasarved it for you tother piece I fried and ate it was very nise. I may send you the bloody knif that took it out if you only wate a whil longer

signed

Catch me when you can Mishter Lusk

“At least, this is more readable than the original letter,” Ciel remarked.

“It is,” McMillan replied. “Whoever our killer is, he or she might have copied the real Ripper’s letter with all its terrible spelling and grammar, but they did not have the heart to mimic Jack’s terrible handwriting.”

“But where is the real letter?” Elizabeth said. “The only reason I see for the Copycat not exchanging the name of the letter’s recipient is when the recipient’s name is Mr Lusk.”

“Hm. Possible. I will ask Sebastian to find everyone in London named Lusk and ask them if they received the actual package,” said Ciel.

“Uh, is that not a quite inconvenient and time-consuming procedure?”

“Sebastian can do that,” McMillan assured her. “He is one hell of a butler.

“There’s one more thing I want to point out.” He tapped on the bottom left corner of the paper on which the letter had been written. “It’s very small, but it is still a clue – a very small clue the Copycat themselves have missed: A tiny, tiny emblem belonging to Aleistor Chamber.”

Something clicked in Elizabeth’s head. “Aleistor Chamber? The Viscount of Druitt?”

McMillan nodded.

“I have once heard my mother talking about him,” she said excitedly. “She said ‘Which moron gave the Viscount of Druitt a degree in medicine? How could we end up living in a world in which even the biggest of idiots can become physicians?’

“The Copycat cut out the wombs of these women with the precision of an expert – and Chamber has a master degree in medicine. He certainly qualifies as a suspect.”

“This is a huge mistake on the killer’s part,” Ciel said. “And we cannot be certain that this is not a red herring. But a clue is a clue, and we should follow every one we can find. I heard that Chamber’s hosting a party Sunday evening, but you need an invitation to get inside.” He looked at McMillan. “Do you think you can get us a handful of these invitations until Sunday or do I have to ask Sebastian? After all, you still have preparations to do.”

McMillan shook his head. “This is a child’s play; it won’t take too much time and is even a nice warm-up.” He grinned. “There’s nothing easier than that.”