#but he is also shouldering the entire survival of his bloodline and he CARES about that shit

[whetstonefires]

yeah no matter how you slice it there is absolutely no way Jiang Cheng would not be married if he wanted to be, it's voluntary, but i love the idea of his actively conspiring with the local matchmaker to be taken off the market

So how do we know JC was banned by matchmakers? Like is this another rumor thing that has taken on a life of its own or is this like a fun fact thing. I’ve been seeing people trying to use his banning as proof of being a terrible person but I’m not sure where it’s stated. Like I wouldn’t be surprised if JC just said he doesn’t have time for matchmaking and it took on a life of its own in the gossip world.

I don't have the reference to hand, but I'm pretty sure it was a passing comment/joke in either an interview or author's note while the novel was first serializing. so it's never actually said by a character in canon, and I personally tend to take interview/author's note comments like that as at least 50% joke

also like, the second one starts thinking too seriously about the marriage economy of this world, the faster your brain will absolutely implode. first off: an entire generation of clan leaders that have failed to marry? absolutely no social pressure on any of them to do so? ooookay. how are these clans going to be continuing as clans, again?

secondly, even if we imagine that Jiang Cheng somehow offended every matchmaker... there will, no matter what, be Yao-guniangs of the world who will marry a rich, powerful, wealthy sect leader no matter his supposed personality. there is no realistic world where matchmakers would not continue working to pair up Jiang Cheng if he wanted no matter what he did.

[wondernimbus]

battleground — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

request: could i kindly request a draco x reader where they get into a fight before the war, and draco chooses to stay a hogwarts and voldemort but reader pushes herself in front of him to save him? but they both survive 🥺 if it's too complicated dw about it :)

a/n: i tweaked the request a little bit but this is set when the slytherins are sent to the dungeons during the battle of hogwarts! also it isn’t explicitly stated in the text so just in case there’s some confusion, the reader’s parents are death eaters

The cold stone hallway leading to the Slytherin common room is eerily quiet despite the hundred or so Slytherin students trickling into their common room. No one bothers to quell the uneasy tension hanging in the air or makes a move to address the sounds of chaos coming from just up above them, a mere stone floor away.

But at the very middle of the pack, there is someone shoving past people on her way back towards the way they came. Back to the first-floor corridor; back to the war. No one pays her much heed. Everyone is too busy lost in their own conflicted thoughts, and even if they do register the fact that there is a girl among them turning back to head into the very battle they were kicked out of, they make no move to stop her.

Somewhere along the back of the group, she catches sight of a face that brings with it a sudden rush of relief. [Y/N] pushes past the crowd of students clad in green until she stops right in front of him, grabs onto his wrist and drags him along.

The last of the Slytherins have filed into the common room. [Y/N] and Draco stand in the middle of the cold dungeon hall, illuminated only dully by the torches hanging on the walls.

[Y/N] wastes no time. She leans in and presses her lips to his, and it's all force; there is no time for passion or tears or dramatic farewell. She kisses Draco like a starved man, lips all pressure and no tenderness, and Draco kisses her back with just as much fervor, hands gripping onto her waist almost desperately as he holds her to him as close as he can.

And they would stay like that for as long as they can if only they are allowed to, but there is a war to be fought and there are people to be saved. So [Y/N] pulls away, breathless, forehead on Draco's and their lips mere centimeters apart as they breathe in each other's air the same way they have done so many times before.

Draco can think of no words to say; all that leaves his lips is a breathless exhale of her name. Just her name.

[Y/N] nods just a fraction of an inch as though she understands completely, and in a way, she does.

Against her will, she pulls away, fingers gently gliding down his shoulders and down to his middle, where they rest almost hesitantly. In a voice just as quiet as his, she whispers, "I need to go up there, Draco."

Silence. She opens her eyes only to find that he is already looking at her, gaze unreadable. A feeling of uneasiness settles in her stomach.

"Up where?" He's frowning. His hold on her waist has tensed.

"I'm going to fight," [Y/N] says, and her voice is throatier than usual, like a lump has already formed in her throat.

Draco blinks. There's a crease in between his brows; she reaches up to smoothen it out with her fingers out of habit, but his hand flies to her wrist and holds it there, hovering just above his lips.

"You're going to fight," he repeats, still frowning.

[Y/N] swallows. Nods. "And you should, too."

Draco stares at her, brows furrowed. It's at rare times like these that [Y/N] can't quite figure out what he's thinking, but she guesses that it's something along the lines of—

"You can't," Draco says, shaking his head. "You can't. I won't let you."

She reaches up and gently pries his fingers away from her wrist, but his grip on her only tightens. "Draco."

"I'm not letting you risk your life."

She stares at him for a moment, brows drawing together in the middle just like his, but the way she is looking at him is a sharp contrast to his suddenly stern gaze—she looks incredulous, like she can't believe what she's hearing.

"I thought you'd understand," she says, tugging her wrist out of his grasp and taking a step back. A foot of space rests between them, but for some reason it suddenly feels like they are thousands of miles apart. "I can't just hide here while people risk their lives to save—"

"What—to save ours?" Draco cuts her off, scowling. It's unimaginable to think that mere moments ago they were entangled in each other's arms, kissing as though the other will slip away if they don't hold on tight enough. Coldly, Draco says, "They'd throw us to the wolves if they had a chance."

"To save everyone's."

"Don't be ridiculous. If they saw you fighting alongside them, they wouldn't hesitate to turn their wands on you."

"And how do you know that?"

He advances towards her, and for a brief split-second [Y/N] thinks that he's about to kiss her again, but all he does is grab the black and green necktie hanging around her collar and hold it up for her to see.

"Because of this," he snarls. "The moment anyone fighting against the Dark Lord sees you're a Slytherin, they'll think you're an enemy. And the moment any of the Death Eaters see you fighting against them, they'll think you're a traitor—which you are—and they'll kill you. You'd be fighting against both sides."

She scoffs, the first few traces of anger surfacing. "You are making assumptions."

"It's the truth and you know it. You have no choice. Stay here and save your life." He grabs her hand and tugs her towards the direction of the Slytherin common room. The dungeon door has closed. There is no one left in the cold stone corridor but them.

But [Y/N] wrenches herself away from Draco's hold. "I can take care of myself and I am fighting," she says sharply, a sense of finality in her tone. "And I would have asked you to fight by my side but it seems like you'd rather stay and hide here like a coward." The final word escapes the confines of her lips without her even realizing, but the anger in her chest makes it hard for her to feel guilty for it.

"If wanting the love of my life to live makes me a coward then so be it." Draco turns to face her, jaw taut and his eyes flashing. "You're asking me to let you put your life on the line—"

"I'm asking you to trust me—"

"And what happens if you die? What do you suppose I do?" he hisses, and then, his face contorting into a sneer, "I apologize for my selfishness, [Y/N] but I'd much prefer other people die than you."

She scoffs in disbelief. "Always a selfish prick, aren't you, Draco?"

[Y/N] doesn't mean it. Of course she doesn't. But the frustration in her chest is reaching boiling point and the words that leave her lips do so without her even pausing to think about them.

Doing little to mask her scorn, she snaps, "I'd rather die in battle than sit back doing nothing while innocent children are slaughtered."

"Those innocent children hated us for the house we were sorted in," Draco sneers. "They saw the green on our robes and they made sure to stay away from us—they spoke ill of us and spread vile rumors about our families and you're willing to sacrifice yourself for them?"

"And you want to let them die just because they disliked us." She doesn't phrase it like a question.

Draco clenches his jaw. She would have been able to feel the slightest empathy for him if he showed even a tiny bit of guilt, but he holds his gaze in hers resolutely and shakes his head. "I don't want to die for them. And you shouldn't, either."

Her lip curls. "You disgust me."

And it scares her because she isn't sure whether she means it or not.

In one swift movement, [Y/N] reaches up and roughly yanks the green Slytherin tie hanging around her neck. "I don't care what they think about us or what you think about them," she seethes through bared teeth, throwing the necktie at Draco's feet as she holds his gaze with just as much fieriness as she sees in his. "But I refuse to stay here while those people risk their lives fighting for what they believe is right—what is right."

Draco narrows his eyes at her, lips drooping downwards in a scowl. "Even if it means fighting against your parents?"

Her parents. The people who had raised her her entire life and made her believe in things she held true not so long ago. Things that entailed the uselessness of Muggles and Muggleborns alike. Her mother and father, who once cruelly punished her for helping a lost Muggle boy when she was no more than a mere child eager to offer a helping hand.

Parents—do they really deserve to be called that?

With her jaw set, she nods. "I'm done doing things for them. It's time I make decisions for myself."

A cold glare is all she has left to offer Draco before she turns her back on him and walks away, wand in hand.

Part of her understands. She knows that Draco is not much different from her. He has told her stories based on his own experience; stories just like hers that tell tales of pureblooded prejudice and exiled blood-traitors in the vicinity of his own home. But even if he hadn't found enough comfort in her to tell her, she still would have known.

She recognized the look in his eyes the very moment they first met. It was the very same one she saw whenever she looked in the mirror.

But [Y/N] has been luckier than most. Somewhere along her journey to what some would call self-discovery, she'd found something a great deal more important than bloodlines and family trees. Though hesitant at first, she met and came to know people whose blood was perhaps not as magical as hers but whose hearts were purer than any other she had ever seen. Purer than hers, certainly.

She came to know Muggleborns who viewed her as an equal, and everyone else along with her. Muggleborns who treated everyone with kindness not because of the blood in their veins but because it was right.

And because of them [Y/N] has learned to differentiate what is right and what is wrong; what is important and what is not. Now she knows fully well which category one's blood type falls under. She may have been a little late on the uptake, but if risking her life is what it takes to redeem herself, then so be it.

But Draco has a harder time wrapping his head around things. [Y/N] understands; truly, she does. He has been raised to think a certain way and so has she—but if she can break out of the box that her parents have caged her in for so long, why can't he?

Just before she disappears behind the staircase leading away from the dungeons, she stops, and with her gaze fixated on the stone steps, takes a deep breath.

"People like us—" she begins in what was meant to be a stone-cold voice, but her voice is shaky for the first time that day. "They think we're a lost cause. They think we're cold-hearted and we're rotten to the core because of our last names—and you're right—because we're in Slytherin. But if you don't want to fight against the Dark Lord because of your hatred for the people who looked at us as though we were devil's spawn, then at least fight because you want to prove them wrong."

From here, she can make out the sound of spells hurtling through the air and people screaming from up above. She hears panicked voices of people a tiny part of her feels as though she recognizes. Voices she must have heard in her classes. Voices she could have heard in the hallways or in the Great Hall. And despite the fear in her chest and the voice in her lovesick heart telling her to stay with Draco, it's those voices that urge her to put one foot in front of the other until she emerges in the middle of the first-floor corridor, right in the heart of the battle.

—

Death. Chaos. Destruction. She sees it everywhere around her—in the corridors and the classrooms she grew up in, and in the Great Hall, where the large glass windows have been reduced to mere shards and the long house tables have been flipped over and cracked to splinters.

Why take this away from her—from everyone who has lived their childhood in that castle?

For so long Hogwarts has been her sanctuary. Her safe place. The only place in the world where she feels as though she could be at peace. And now it is nothing more than crumbling stone foundations and broken glass and soot and dust.

Jets of red and green light whiz past her almost every step she takes. Fear: she feels it in every fiber of her body like a parasite waiting for the right moment to consume her whole and render her immobile. Part of her wants to run back down the dungeons and join Draco and the rest of the Slytherins—it is so much safer down there—she doesn't have to narrowly dodge recklessly-aimed curses every corner she turns, wondering which one will finally hit her—which one will kill her—

But then she sees none other than Colin Creevey amongst the blur of destruction around her, and just like that she remembers why she's here.

"Colin!" she yells, darting forward. He stands in the middle of the corridor, wand drawn in front of him but looking so lost and confused he might as well have just been an innocent passerby unfortunate enough to come across the Battle of Hogwarts. From this distance [Y/N] can tell he is shaking but no one seems to notice him amongst all the madness; "Colin!"

His name tears out of her throat again as she wills her legs to move as fast as they can, weaving through all the dueling and in some cases, brawling—and she doesn't know what she aims to do, exactly, but she just knows that she has to protect this timid little fifth-year Gryffindor who she has treated like her brother for so many years. The same one who, despite her infamous blood-smattered family tree, was one of the first ones outside of Slytherin to treat her like a normal human being.

She shouts his name again, and somehow, despite all of the noise and the yelling and the sounds of spells being cast all around them, Colin hears her; his eyes meet hers and they flood with relief and recognition, flood with the same bright light [Y/N] has grown so familiar with—

And then the light dies out.

[Y/N]'s entire world freezes.

"No," she gasps.

From behind Colin, a jet of bright green light hurtles straight towards him and hits him in the back—he jolts forward at the impact, and then falls to his knees. A half-moment later, Colin Creevey crumples to the ground, lifeless.

She skids to a stop. A dry sob leaves her lips as the hand holding her wand falls to her side.

No.

—

Five minutes.

Draco spends five minutes in the chilly dungeon corridor, staring at the stone steps [Y/N] had disappeared through only moments before.

If he walks up those steps, it will be to the sight of the school he has come to call his home destroyed. He will see numerous spells hurtling through the air, some finding their targets and others lodging themselves into stone and causing walls to crumble in on themselves. He knows that he will bear witness to a nightmarish scene, but that is not what has Draco hesitating: what stops him is the thought of fighting alongside students just like him who will give him mistrustful glares, as though they are waiting for him to jinx them when their backs are turned.

And perhaps worst of it all is the fact that he will have to fight against familiar faces. He will recognize his aunt, his uncle, his best friend's father, his own parents. And he will point his wand at them and hope that his curse hits them before theirs hits him.

Draco is scared.

He doesn't know if he has enough courage to climb those steps and fight alongside people who barely trust him, and fight against the people who have raised him.

But he can't lose her.

He may be scared, but he can't lose [Y/N].

So Draco unravels his Slytherin tie from his neck, takes a deep breath and walks up the stone steps. He can't lose her—not in this lifetime. He loves her far too much to care about who he has to kill and who he has to fight alongside.

The rest of the world be damned, so long as he doesn't lose her.

—

"You killed him," she whispers. Tears are in her eyes but they haven't quite fallen yet, and despite the invisible hands that have reached into her chest and started squeezing her lungs to a pulp, she manages to say louder, "You killed Colin."

[Y/N] looks up at the Death Eater standing amidst the countless fierce duels. She thinks she hears him laugh behind his mask; cruel and jeering and oddly familiar.

She doesn't pause to think. As soon as the feeling floods back into her arms, she cries "Stupefy!" and a burst of red light explodes out of the end of her wand.

But the Death Eater deflects it with little to no effort. He lets out another laugh, this time louder.

[Y/N] is sure of it this time: she knows that voice. She catches sight of a strand of long platinum blond hair trailing beneath his hood and recognizes him even before he reaches up with one hand and wrenches the mask off of his face.

"Foolish girl," Lucius Malfoy snarls, stopping a mere few feet away from her. "Instead of saving your own skin, you decide to betray the Dark Lord and your own family along with him."

He brandishes his wand; a jet of green light rushes straight towards [Y/N] and she cries "Protego!" at the very last moment, stumbling a little upon impact.

Lucius advances forward, long black robes billowing behind him as [Y/N] backs away, wand trembling slightly in her hand. "You care far too much for those who do not deserve your sympathy," his face contorts into an ugly, spiteful glare, "For Muggles and Mudbloods and filthy blood-traitors—"

"Stupefy!"

Just like the one before it, Lucius deflects this one effortlessly. His upper lip curling contemptuously, he stops in his tracks, wand still pointed at [Y/N] as her chest heaves with deep, heavy breaths of both anger and grief that hasn't quite gone away. "I have always wondered why my son adores you so much."

Another jet of red light bursts from [Y/N]'s wand, but her attempts are futile.

"But he will move on," continues Lucius. "He will forget you and wed someone who is worthy of being a Malfoy." And then the jeering smile on his face droops and intent floods his features as he sneers, "I just have to get rid of you first—Avada K—"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

This time, the spell hits Lucius and his limbs snap to his sides before he topples to the ground, spine rigid.

But [Y/N] hasn't even opened her mouth.

Standing right behind Lucius Malfoy is the last person she would have expected to see—

"Draco," she breathes.

Draco's wand is still drawn and his eyes are blown wide, mouth slightly agape as he stares at his father, who lies face-down on the ground unbeknownst to the fact that it was his own son who had cursed him.

Shock is etched into every inch of Draco's face. He is just as stunned at his actions as [Y/N] is. But when he snaps himself out of his trance and finds it in him to tear his gaze away from his father, the first thing he does is stride towards [Y/N], pull her to him, and hold her with the desperation of a man who has been longing for his lover for centuries.

"You—your father—"

"I know."

"Draco," she exhales into his shoulder, breathless. "Draco—"

"Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No—no, I'm okay."

Draco takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods. Keeps nodding.

And when he takes her hand in his and runs with her to the courtyard, where there are more Death Eaters to fight and more innocent lives to protect, he can't help but look back and catch a last glimpse of his father on the floor. His father, who is still rigid and unmoving, at the mercy of Order members who might stumble upon him.

Draco doesn't regret it.

The rest of the world be damned—including his own father—so long as he doesn't lose her.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

My Favorite Smile

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (this one has a couple ✨swear words✨ in it lol. I don’t usually write them out, but sometimes you just gotta say what you mean)

Original Idea: X (Obsessed with this channel right now)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 2,182 words... it’s a longer one again. I casually wrote this in, like, two hours. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

Holding his coffee and croissant, Jason looked around the crowded café for a place to sit. Every table was occupied by at least one person, and the rules of personal space in public said the couches were full, with one person sitting on either end.

His eyes fell on a table with a single occupant.

His heart stuttered to a stop. Wait… is that her? Damn, she looks good this time. He scoffed at himself. Who am I kidding? She looks good every time. Should I talk to her? Should I tell her? She didn’t believe me last time… and I don’t know if I can stand another lifetime without her… but last life we didn’t meet till I was almost fifty. I really wasn’t expecting to find her this early.

He straightened up and strode over to her table. “Excuse me, is it alright if I sit here? The café’s pretty crowded and the other tables are full.”

She looked up and Jason’s brain stopped working as she met his eyes. She was just as incredible as she always was. Thousands upon thousands of years, and he still never got over how beautiful she was. “Sure, go ahead,” she said with a smile before going back to her phone.

—

“I’m Jason, by the way,” the man said, sitting down.

I glanced back up and gave him my name in return.

He smiled. He had a handsome smile. Just looking at him… something tugged in the back of my mind. “That’s a pretty name,” he said.

My ears warmed and I looked away. “Thanks,” I muttered. I looked back at him. “Sorry if this sounds… weird—but have we met before?” I cringed but smiled. If we had…oh it’d be so embarrassing if I’d forgotten him. And a man as handsome as him—how could I have forgotten?

But a look of delight crossed his face, before being replaced by one of neutrality. “Not in this lifetime,” he replied.

“Kind of an odd way to word it,” I remarked before I could overthink whether that sounded really rude or not.

Jason’s ears turned red. “Well… yeah I guess so. Sorry.” He looked down at his coffee cup and croissant and chose to take a sip of his drink. After swallowing, he looked back up at me. “This is probably gonna sound really creepy, but please just hear me out for a few minutes. Do you believe in soulmates?”

I reached up and scratched an itch just behind my ear. “I mean… kind of? I think maybe they exist for some people, and other people could be matched equally well with multiple potential partners,” I said.

His shoulders slouched with a sigh of what might have been relief. “Thank goodness,” he said. He met my eyes. “Because… we’re soulmates. You and I. Sometimes—very rarely—two people are so destined to be together, that they’re reborn over and over to stay together throughout thousands of years’ worth of lifetimes. Sometimes we both remember, sometimes only one of us does. I don’t think there’s ever been a lifetime where neither of us remember. Besides the first, I guess. Back when we didn’t know we’d be reborn. We never look the same twice—different bodies, different backgrounds. But we always have the same soul.”

A reasonable person would have thought he was making up a really long, bad pickup line. But I stared at him with rapt attention. Like some missing puzzle piece I’d been looking for my entire life fell into place. It just sounded… right.

“How do we find each other, if we look different every time?”

He took a deep breath. “Well… when one or both of us remember, we can… kind of sense it? Kind of see it? Like, right now, I see you, but I also see every face of yours that I’ve seen across every lifetime.” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes we don’t. Find each other, I mean. The distance between where we’re born or the timing of our rebirths keep us apart. But there’s only been… three of those, if I remember right.” He laughed. “So glad you believed me this time. It would have sucked if you got a restraining order—because those are a thing now—and I had to spend this life without you.”

I leaned forward, shoving my phone in my pocket. “Tell me more,” I said.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Um… I don’t know. The beginning? Our first life?”

He nodded. “Ancient Greece,” he said. “Like, really early in Ancient Greece’s history. The gods blessed us. Bound our souls for eternity. Your hair is actually the same color now as it was back then. Kind of a… nostalgic favorite of mine. You’re absolutely stunning every time I see you, but I have some favorites. You do too.”

I snickered. “Oh really? Like what?”

“Well… I always think you’re adorable with dimples or freckles. Green eyes are a favorite of mine too. And your current hair color is my favorite. There were also a few times where you were a little taller than me. Those were nice. You’re most comfortable to hug that way. But, without fail, every single lifetime I see your smile and I think, ‘That one. That one’s my new favorite.’” He chuckled. “As for you, you’ve told me that you like me best with brown eyes—even though you don’t like brown eyes normally. Um… you also like it when my hair is curly.” He gestured to his black hair, slightly curled, with two white curls arcing down the center of his forehead. “You told me… seven lifetimes ago? That you like me best with piercings and tattoos, but when I brought it up last lifetime you said even when I have them I still look like, and I quote, a ‘giant nerd.’”

We both laughed. Jason sighed and shook his head.

“Then again, you said that was your favorite during our pirate lifetime. And I can also say hot damn you looked good with tattoos and a big hat.”

I gasped out a laugh. “We were pirates?”

He laughed too. “Yeah. Well, you were. To start with, anyway. You and your crew were visiting my town and you, absolutely drunk, stumbled into my house. I was a carpenter that time. Thank the gods we both remembered that lifetime or I probably would have shot you. You spent half the night drunkenly blathering about how much you hated my hair when it was long the way it was and that you’d cut it off if I didn’t. The next morning, when you’d sobered up, you apologized. And I’d said it was fine. And… you asked me to come with you. I’ve spent dozens of lifetimes endlessly in love with you. So, like the lovesick fool I am and was, I said yes.

“It… was not a long lifetime. Pirates rarely made it to old age. We were both killed when a Royal Navy ship attacked us. I went down first. You told me in our next lifetime that you single-handedly killed half of that crew’s sailors in revenge even though you knew you’d see me again—because you’d been having so much fun that life and they ruined it. Eventually their captain killed you himself.” He took a bite of his croissant.

It was certainly a lot to take in. But everything he said was so vivid… I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination coming up with the images or… memories that had merely been locked away somewhere deep inside. The sea. The deck of a ship. An octopus tattoo on my left forearm, tentacles reaching to the back of my hand, a similar one on his tanned, scarred neck. Curly auburn hair, a scruffy beard. Brown leather coat and blood under his nails. Pierced ear and eyebrow. A tattoo of a mermaid with a face and wild hair that I knew must have been mine on his right thigh as we found alone time together in my cabin—a pile of leather clothes in a heap on the floor, topped by a big hat with a big feather.

I met his eyes again. “Tell me about another one.”

He smiled. “Well… there was another time I was a soldier. You remembered. I didn’t. I passed through your town on my way to report for duty, and the weather got bad. Your family owned a tavern that doubled as an inn. So, that was where I stayed. You didn’t tell me. I fell in love with you anyway. You would tell me stories and sing for me and make me food in private. When the weather improved, I went off to war and, miraculously, I survived. Even though I spent most of my time that fight thinking about you. I came back to your inn and asked you to marry me. You said yes. We were married soon after. I had to leave a lot. Fighting battles I didn’t care about. Eventually, I came home injured and dying. You held my hand and promised you’d see me soon. I thought you meant heaven or just said it to comfort me. You never told me we were endlessly-reborn soulmates.

“When I was about fifteen my next lifetime, all my memories came back. We both remembered that time, actually. When we ran into each other again we got into such a big argument about you not telling me. Literally picked up right where we left off. Two twenty-year-olds bickering like the old married couple we were. The life after I don’t remember is always a bit of a wild ride as all my memories come back. I imagine it’s similar for you. It’ll be similar for you.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. I squeezed his fingers. Our hands fit together perfectly. I wondered why I’d told him I liked him best with brown eyes when his blue eyes were absolutely gorgeous. “So… what now?” I asked.

He made a face. “Beginnings are always hard when one of us doesn’t remember. Because I have thousands of years of love for you, and you don’t even know me.” His fingers tightened around mine. “I’d like to take you out on a date, if you’ll let me.”

“Does it count as a first date?”

He smiled. It was a sad smile. “It can. It does for this life.”

“Have we… ever had children? Together?”

Jason regarded me thoughtfully. “We have,” he said. “But our bloodlines never last long. Usually we’re lucky to get great-grandchildren. We’re blessed to be together forever, but our families die off quickly. You speculated once that it’s the blessing’s attempt to make sure we’re not reborn into our own bloodline.”

“So we have no living descendants.”

“No. It’d be a little weird if we did. Like ‘Hey, kiddo, you’re our great-great-great-grandson! I know we’re younger than you but trust us!’” Jason laughed.

I could get drunk on that laugh. “I’d… I’d like to go on that date.”

He looked elated—and relieved. “Me too. I’d like to get to know you again.” He glanced around the crowded café. “What do you say we get out of here and go somewhere quiet and I can tell you more stories about our lives? You’ve always been the far superior storyteller, but I learned from the best.”

I smiled. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here. I want to hear everything.”

He helped me to my feet. I gathered my jacket, cup, and phone. “Great. I can’t wait to tell you about the time I was a magician.”

I giggled. “My place or yours?”

“Mine. I have a memento from our most recent past life that I tracked down. I’d like you to have it.”

“What is it?”

Jason didn’t answer immediately. Just held my hand as we left the café. Gotham’s overcast autumn sky was chilly. “I… I want it to be a surprise but I’m also too excited to tell you.” He bit his lower lip, staring at me. “Gah. Fine. It’s your wedding ring. I found it at an antique shop not far from where our oldest niece lived. We didn’t have any kids, last life. We didn’t meet till I was forty-nine and you were forty-three. We both decided it was too late for kids. But I had a few nieces and nephews. Our oldest niece was in charge of our estate. We died in the eighties. But I found your ring. You can use it again, eventually, if you want. Or we can get you a new one.” His face reddened. “I don’t mean to presume. But I don’t know if I can live without you this lifetime after having you for such a short time last life.”

I squeezed his hand. “Let’s try that first date first. I feel this pull toward you I can’t explain, but we’ll build up to the soulmate thing. Okay?” I smiled at him.

—

Jason couldn’t help but stare at her. Those eyes, that stunning face. This one, he thought. This smile is my favorite.

[phantom-curve]

mads!!! congrats on the follower milestone 🥰

could i please request juke with the following:

ansare - to hardly breathe, to be out of breath

thank you & good luck:)

ahh thank you!💕 I thought this was gonna be fluffy and then it got...kinda angsty😬 set post season one in a mostly canon world where Julie can touch the boys but they're still ghosts, ft. yet another Juke moment on the studio couch (sad & soft edition)

ansare - to hardly breathe, to be out of breath

Breathing was a privilege Luke had never properly understood until he was dead. When he had been alive, it was just another everyday thing that he never once stopped to think twice about. His heart beat, his blood pumped, his lungs expanded and collapsed in time to the rhythm of all other bodily functions. When he went swimming, he plugged his nose and dove deep until he felt the crushing pressure of depth against his chest only to return to the ocean’s surface and inhale once more, everything righted within his system with that single burst of oxygen. It was so simple there were countless idioms derived from the action, and every single one seemed to emphasize the life that existed within the movement. Breathing was as instinctual as living, and Luke never really thought about either one of those things until he was no longer doing them.

Ghosts didn’t need to breathe. Dead boys didn’t have hearts that beat, blood that pumped, lungs that filled and emptied in the same way that the tide pushed against the shore, relentless and unending. Everything that had once made him feel alive now existed as a reminder of the fact that he never would be again.

Except that wasn’t really true. Because Luke couldn’t deny the way he reacted to Julie.

Julie made his heart race and his blood sing and his lungs trip over themselves in an attempt to catch up to the breath that she always seemed to steal from him. Julie was wickedly beautiful, an insane wrecking ball of musical talent, and also probably the most amazing person he had ever met in his life period. She made him want to be better in all the best kind of ways. Smarter, funnier, nicer, happier. She made him want to be the type of guy that could look her in the eye and promise her a lifetime together.

Except he didn’t have a life anymore. He just had more time than he knew what to do with and no way to promise anything.

The thought ate him alive up inside.

Especially at night. In the dark and the quiet and the oppressive stillness of it all he would sit and think about all of the things he had missed out on, all of the things he was still missing out on. Stuck in limbo, neither here nor there, just...existing but not. Living but not. Breathing but...not. Death had changed everything. Julie had changed it again. She was his sole reason for being anymore. He loved the boys, loved the band, loved everything about whatever existence he had been given. But all of it paled in comparison to Julie.

“Luke?”

The sound of his name on her lips made his breath hitch every time he heard it.

It was late, well after the time she normally went to bed. The studio had been dark and quiet for hours. Alex was off with Willie, Reggie had swiped Carlos’ laptop and disappeared into the loft with an old pair of headphones, and Luke was hunched over his notebook on the couch, trying and failing not to write about Julie. And now here she was, wearing mismatched pjs and oversized slippers, standing in the doorway to his kind-of home, taking his breath away once more.

“Hey, Jules.”

Her lips curved into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, and he felt himself mirroring the expression. It was new, the nickname thing, but it felt right. Their interesting little relationship had shifted recently, they both knew it. He sat up straighter, sliding over to the side of the couch in a clear invitation. Julie didn’t hesitate. Her steps were silent as she closed the distance between them, settling herself onto the worn-out leather next to him, legs tucked up as she angled herself towards him, close but not quite touching.

“What are you working on?”

Normally, Luke wouldn’t think twice about passing the notebook over to her. He would lean in close, listen to her hum the melody, watch her mouth the lyrics, and then, when she would turn to him with suggestions, he would watch that same spark that lived within his soul flare to life in hers as well. The rest of the world would cease to exist, everything shrinking down to just the two of them, Julie and Luke, alone in their own little musical bubble.

But this song? The one he’d been writing while thinking about her and all the things he wished he could give her? He wasn’t sure he was ready to share that part of himself yet. Wasn’t sure he was ready to shift their relationship anymore when he knew it was basically doomed no matter what.

Julie inched closer, like she could feel his reluctance. Her leg brushed his lightly, the sensation still so new and unfamiliar that it made him gasp quietly. He had waited so long to touch her, had wanted to reach out for that kind of physical comfort so badly, so many times and every single one of them had been a lesson in rejection. Dead boys didn’t get to touch girls who were alive.

Except that had changed, too. And he could touch her, now. But he was still a dead boy. And she was still alive.

Something about the way his breath caught in his throat seemed to capture her attention. Her brows softened, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. She seemed to get it then, she always saw through him so easily, but she didn’t pull away.

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Her words ripped through him. Luke’s arm was moving to pull her close before he could stop himself. She fell against his chest, head coming to rest over his silent heart.

“I know.”

His whisper was just as pained as hers had been. His chest burned, but it wasn’t from lack of oxygen. It was his soul, desperately reaching out for hers, seeking any way to keep them together, forever. He was already touching her, already holding his breath so he could stretch this moment into infinity, already crossing another line that moved them farther away from being just friends, so he didn’t stop himself from reaching up to run his fingers through her hair softly. The curls were wild, and he had to be careful not to snag his rings. Julie softened against him, soothed by his touch, forbidden as it was. If his heart had been working, he was sure it would be skipping all over the place by now.

“I’m sorry, Julie.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was apologizing for, exactly. Being dead? Being a ghost? Being here but not here? He sure as hell wasn’t apologizing for loving her. He couldn’t, wouldn’t apologize for something like that. It was the one constant in his life now. It was as undeniable as his breath had been when he had been alive, linked intrinsically to his very existence in this world.

“I’m not.”

Her tone was genuine. Something hard in Luke’s throat melted, his breath whooshing back in like he was being given permission to breathe again even if it wasn’t necessary. He felt the rise and fall of his chest, felt the echoes of where a heartbeat would have lived. There was no more pulse to his bloodline, just a melody running pure and true throughout his veins, Julie Julie Julie.

He pulled her closer, settled her more securely against his side, tucked up next to the heart that no longer worked but belonged to her just the same. Without shifting any farther than necessary, he reached out to snag his notebook off of the table. He left it open to the page he had been working on, laying it across his lap. Julie didn’t move except tuck her chin down a bit so she was looking at the pages, eyes squinting as she strained to read his chicken scratch in the dim light left by the hanging string lights. He watched, mesmerized, barely breathing, as her eyes traced over the paper. A low vibration reverberated against his chest as she hummed, her brow crinkling as she took in the words that had been written and the ones that had been slightly marred by scratches. All different versions of the same sentiment.

“Luke...” her voice was breathy, eyes shining as she shifted her gaze to meet his. “This is beautiful.”

He gave her a soft smile. He didn’t have to tell her that it was about her. She knew. Just like she knew every other piece of him. Just like she had always known him, it seemed.

He didn’t have to say the words to her. She didn’t have to say them back. It was enough for them to know just between themselves. He loved her. She loved him. Nothing had ever been so simple and yet so complicated. But loving Julie wasn’t something he would ever be able to stop doing. Just like breathing, it had become a part of his everyday world. Something that was completely necessary to his survival.

Julie returned her gaze to the notebook; reached for the pen he kept hooked over the pages for easy access. Her curving script put his messy scrawl to shame, her words intertwining with his as she added her own parts to the song. No longer just a song for her, but a song for them. He watched her work, kept his fingers nestled in her curls, twirling the strands absentmindedly just because he could.

She fell asleep like that, pressed up against him, fingertips smudged with ink. He knew whatever they had couldn’t be forever. Not the kind of forever she deserved, stuck with someone on the cusp of disappearance, neither of this world or gone from it. But he could have this. These quiet moments, just the two of them, without the rest of the impossibilities bogging them down. And one day, when reality caught up with them and he inevitably lost her, he would know that a piece of him lived on with her. Caught in her memories, written on the pages of his notebook, tattooed on her heart the same way she would be on his.

[fullmoonremus]

Take Everything From Me | Caspian x Reader

Warnings: Arguments, Jealousy, Mention of battle, A few cuss words

Time/Era: Prince Caspian

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Caspian is jealous because of Y/N’s newfound love for high king Peter Pevensie

Request: hi!! first of all i love your writing and thank you so much for saving time to write for us💜 also can you please write a Caspian imagine where reader is his best friend since childhood and while they're having a heated fight about his fight with Peter in the second movie (the reader is trying to explain that they're both wrong), he angrily (because of jealousy maybe?) confesses his feelings and they end up kissing?? pretty please?? lots of love✨

A/N: Thank you for such a nice compliment and for acknowledging the time I spend on my fics! Each imagine usually takes me 1-4 hours (depending on the length) and it’s super fun! I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting! If anyone would like me to write for them (Edmund, Caspian, Peter and some Harry Potter characters) send a request my way :)

masterlist | read on ao3

Prince Caspian was a stubborn, natural-born leader; he had to be. He was raised with harsh expectations and responsibilities due to his bloodline. Because of this, the young prince never had many friends, especially any outside of his bloodline. Y/N L/N was the only exception. She was the daughter of the highest knight in their army, so she was entrusted within a close proximity of the royal family. She was under the same care as Caspian since they were very young, and the two grew to be inseparable.

When the wife of Miraz, Prince Caspian’s uncle, gave birth to a boy and Caspian was threatened to be assassinated, their beloved professor awoke Y/N first. He was in a tizzy and insisted Y/N grab anything she needed in case she was to never return. Confused, but with haste, Y/N packed up her belongings and followed the plump man out of her chambers. She and Prince Caspian had barely made it out of the castle before arrows were being shot at their backs. 

“Hold on tightly,” Caspian directed Y/N’s arms to fall around his waist as they rode out of the castle. He sounded out of breath and panicked when he spoke, something Y/N had never heard from him. 

“My Prince, they’re gaining on us,” Y/N responded, her voice shrill and strained. Her hands gripped the stiff leather of his chest piece as the horse twisted every which way. Caspian didn’t respond, but instead took one of his hands and placed it over hers. 

~

“I’m not sure I’ll ever grow fond of them,” Caspian grunted, digging a small knife into a wooden stick. He wasn’t whittling anything, nor sharpening anything, but he needed something to keep his hands busy. He observed how the wood splintered into thin curls and how those curls fell onto the forest floor. 

“Who? The Kings and Queens of Old?” Trufflehunter responded. The two were sat a distance away from the rest of the group. They were all talking animatedly around a small fire and sharing stories from the past. King Peter seemed to be very invested in whatever tale Y/N was sharing. Caspian stabbed the wood in hand. 

“Yes, the Kings and Queens of Old. I thought he was supposed to be magnificent, I’ve heard so many stories.” Y/N reached out and pushed King Peter playfully. He grasps the girl’s wrists and pulls, making her fall forward. The entire camp laughs as she stumbles into Peter. A growing fire develops in Caspian’s stomach and with one flick of his knife, half of the stick falls to the floor. 

The badger watches the wood and looks up at Prince Caspian, “Are you disappointed in them? Or just in King Peter?” 

“They are much younger than I expected. Much more boastful than I expected.” 

“You are also quite young, your highness.” 

“Not within the mind, Trufflehunter.” Caspian glances back at the group. King Peter was acting out something using his sword. He had also taken off his armor, leaving him in a loose-fitting shirt and trousers. Y/N looked enthralled as the boy sliced the air with the sharp blade. Caspian’s jaw clenched and he looked back at Trufflehunter. 

“See what I am talking about? He is dueling when there is no one to duel! He’s showing off his skills when it is not necessary to use them. And I have to follow his commands.” Trufflehunter placed a paw on the thumb of Caspians right hand, stopping him from slicing his skin in place of the wood. 

“And you will be no better without a hand.”

~

The invasion of the Telmarines went awful. Caspian insisted Y/N stay behind with Lucy, but of course, High King Peter had spoken up. 

“No, she needs to come. She’s a valuable soldier. I know because we’ve sparred. We’d be wasting a valuable resource if she stayed behind.” A smile graced Y/N’s face as she made eye contact with Peter. Caspian let out a shaky breath and his grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. 

“She’s also close to the majority of the Telmarine Knights. They know her weaknesses. They know all of our weaknesses, this is a bad idea.”

“Which also means I know their’s. Cas, loosen up. I’m going.” Y/N still had a smile on her face. 

Peter took hold of her wrist and tugged it gently. “Can you cover my back? I know they’re going to try and overpower me.” 

Y/N’s cheeks heated up and she nods shyly. This made Caspian’s blood boil. Not knowing what to do, he makes eye contact with Edmund. The young king rolls his eyes. 

When they returned, there was a sorrow surrounding the surviving warriors. There was little speech and the only sound heard was the metal of their armor rubbing against itself as they walked. Y/N had experienced her own father ambush her new friends and kill multiple. She predicted sleepless nights for the following week. 

“What happened?” Lucy asked her older brother, a certain softness to her voice. It only made Y/N’s heart break more. 

“Ask him,” Peter responded. His voice was sharp, a contrast to the funny, caring guy Y/N had spoken to around the fire. Caspian stopped walking and his head shot up. 

“Me? You could have called it off. There was still time.” Caspian responded. How dare King Peter place the blame onto him. He strongly advised against the entire mission, which the High King ignored. This wasn’t Caspian’s fault. He wasn’t the bad guy. 

“No there wasn’t, thanks to you.” Peter took a few steps towards Caspian, his face twisting into a scowl. “If you stuck to the plan, those soldiers would be alive right now.” 

“And if you had stayed here like I suggested, they definitely would be.” Caspian could feel the hatred for Peter bubbling in his chest. No matter what Caspian did, Peter was always better. Peter was the King and there was nothing Prince Caspian could do about it. He glanced over at Y/N; her arms were crossed against her chest and her eyes were filled with flames. 

“You called us, remember?!” The vein in Peter’s forehead was starting to bulge. If Caspian was in any other situation, he would have found that amusing. 

“My first mistake.”

“No,” Peter’s voice wobbled and he began to walk away. “Your first mistake was believing that you could lead these people.”

This made something break deep within Prince Caspian’s soul. He had been preparing his entire life to rule and the second he is finally able to do so, some scrawny blonde child rips it away from him. 

“HEY!” Peter turns around at Caspian’s outburst, words begging to escape off his tongue. “I am not the one who abandoned Narnia.”

Peter stalked towards the Prince until they were near nose to nose. “You invaded Narnia. You have no more rights here than Miraz does; You, him, your father. Narnia’s better off without the lot of you.” 

Caspian ripped his sword out of his hilt and rushed towards Peter. 

“That is enough!” Y/N bellowed as if her voice was subdued thunder. “Both of you, get some air. Now.” 

“Y/N-” Peter began, placing his own sword in his hilt. She cut him off before he could finish his sentence. 

“I don’t want to hear it. Go.”

~

Caspian sat at the edge of the cliff, swinging his feet and watching Y/N speak with Peter. He observes how Y/N’s shoulders shake with laughter and how Peter swings an arm around Y/N fondly. They had been at it for almost an hour, chatting, laughing, and hugging, yet Caspian forced himself to watch. It’s what he deserved; he had driven Y/N away and now she was Peter’s. Peter was the perfect king with the perfect hair and perfect attitude. He had so much to offer. The only thing Caspian had was Y/N, and now High King Peter the Magnificent had that too. 

“Hey,” Y/N’s voice sounded from behind him. Caspian must have been staring off into the distance for longer than he thought. 

“Shouldn’t you be with Peter?” Caspian replied, not bothering to move his eyes when she sat next to him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that he is your new boyfriend and you should spend time with him. That’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do.” 

“What? He’s not- what are you on about, Cas?” She placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t call me that,” He shugged her hand off so she wasn’t touching him. “And yes he is, don’t lie to me. You were so fast to comfort him, after all.”

Y/N looked at him with a hurt expression. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Caspian looks over at his supposed best friend for the first time. She was already looking at him with a hurt expression. He turned his head away. 

“You were so fast to jump to his aid and you haven’t left his side since we met him. For the love of Aslan, Y/N, you practically drool over the guy.” “I didn’t jump to his aid, I was scolding him about what happened. And I’m sorry, he’s my friend and the only person who has actually spoken to me in the past month.” “Scolding him by hugging and laughing? Very effective, I should use that tactic in the next fight I’m in. ”

Y/N sputtered for a second. “Were you spying on me?!” 

Caspian let a single breath rush quickly out of his nose. “No, you just happened to ‘scold him’ in the middle of the courtyard.” He stood up. “You know what? I hope you two are very happy together. Just know he’s going to blame you for shit you didn’t do.”

Y/N quickly stood up as well. “Is that what this is about? Aslan, help me. You were both in the wrong.”

“I didn’t do anything. I advised against his plan, Y/N. This so-called Peter the Magnificent led the Narnian people to their deaths.”

“And yet you thought the best course of action was to disobey his plan? You were just as responsible as he was.” Y/N’s voice was picking up in aggression. 

“I had to save him, Y/N.” Caspian started to walk away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Y/N instantly pulled his arm back. “Wouldn’t understand? May I remind you that you’re not the only one with Telemarine family?!” Caspian turned so he was looking directly into Y/N’s eyes. 

“I’ve had everything taken away from me, I was not about to have Doctor Cornelius taken from me too.” His eyebrows were furrowed and he pointed at the ground dramatically. 

“Everything? Caspian you still have me-”

“That’s the thing, Y/N! No, I don’t! What aren’t you getting? I have loved you since we were six years old and the second I think I have you, some shitty blonde king comes and takes you away from me. Just fucking go, Y/N. Go to your king and be happy.” Caspian shouted so loud he was sure all of Narnia could have heard. What had he done?

“Maybe if you just fucking listened to me, you would realize I love you too, you big dumbass!” Y/N didn’t miss a beat, staring at him with such intensity that he might explode right then and there. 

Caspian grabbed either side of Y/N’s face and kissed her. Hard. There was so much emotion wrapped into the simple action and it made both of their heads spin. Anger evaporated with each motion and soon, the two were softly running their hands over each other’s skin. Y/N could feel her angry tears trail down her cheeks but before she could do anything, Caspian brushed them away with his thumb. Her face was cradled delicately in Caspian’s rough hands. 

Years worth of unresolved feelings seemed to clear as Caspian worked on her. He kissed firmly, his mouth dominating hers easily, but his hands moved in delicate patterns. First, they were housed on her cheeks, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. Then, they traced her body until they landed on her hips. 

“You dork,” Y/N grinned when she pulled away. “I never liked Peter. Aslan, I never liked Peter. It’s always been you.”

Caspian flashed her a toothy smile in return. “I am so in love with you, Y/N. I am so sorry for yelling at you.” 

Y/N grinned mischievously and pulled away. “Don’t be, you’re extremely hot when you’re jealous.”

She winked, and Caspian pulled her to him once more. The newfound couple shared a second quick kiss before following the narrow trail for which they came. 

[desiraypark]

Take What You Want

Characters: !CEO Ben Solo x Plus Size Female Reader Setting: Alternate/Modern Universe  Summary/Content Warning: Fuckin’. On a boat.  Unprotected PIV sex (assume you’re on BC, or don’t!), oral sex (female receiving). Reader is a bit insecure about her appearance but I worked to avoid the whole “woman doesn’t like how she looks, a MANLY MAN-MAN says HE likes it, therefore a lifetime of hurt disappears in seconds YAY!” trope lol. Ben just wants to fuck you in front of the ocean, okay?

*Use of “Ben Solo” is more so to establish his legacy/bloodline, not necessarily his character/personality or anything like that. BEN’S YACHT (Video: 00:15 is where you’re sitting) - I don’t know if I got the terminology right but who cares, let’s get to the bangin’. 

The past five months had been...Interesting. Different. Thrilling. Perfect. Almost, too perfect--but you didn’t fight it.

It was during the second week of January when you strolled through the cool, bland, and dull-lit spaces of Dice6, LLC.--all the way to the conference room where its young CEO, Ben Solo, sat at the head of the table. The receptionist led you inside. You shook his hand and sat two seats to his right. He asked very few questions and listened intently to your answers. Or so you assumed.

Barely five minutes into the interview, he closed your folder, leaned back in his seat, and looked you over. 

“I’m not hiring you,” he said. 

“Oh...okay...” you’d responded, confused and disappointed. 

“I’m going to take you on a date.”

“...excuse me?”

“Why did you apply for this job?” he asked.

“Um, because this is a reputable com--”

“What do you need money for? Do you have a new place? New to the city?”

“I just...I want a well-paying job to survive, Sir...”

He leaned back in his chair and smiled. 

“I’ve got a feeling about you,” he said. He crossed his leg over the other. “I always listen to my instincts. How would you like to survive and thrive on my bank account?”

You freaked out and excused yourself from the interview. Of course, he gave you a call that you ignored. The next day, you got an email reminder about your soon-to-be due student loan payment, and well...you went on and called him back.

____________________

“I’ve never been on a yacht before,” you’d told him over the phone.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“What do I wear?”

“Dresses, shorts, bathing suits. Lingerie. Preferably nothing.”

“I’ll have to go shopping, I guess.”

“I’d like to see you in jewel tones. And bright reds. I never see you in red.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You’d sent him pictures of the clothing you’d bought with his money. In his calm abrasiveness, he’d called you and told you that he hated your swimsuits and lingerie. Later, he sent you photos of things he wanted you to wear--lots of things you’d never felt comfortable wearing. Or rather, things other people would make you feel ashamed for wearing. But you took another shopping trip and did your best.

____________________

Ben stood at the door to the outer deck waiting for you. You smiled as he took your hand and led you into the open space for dessert and champagne. The two of you sat close on the plush sofa as you ate a fluffy, strawberry cake and stared out at the sparkling waters.

“Are you enjoying everything?” he asked, breaking the serene silence. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and planted a kiss on his jaw.

“I’m loving it. Thank you for this.”

His eyes didn’t leave you when you pulled away. The pupils were dilated and he was chewing on his lip. You were familiar with that look. Past loves had also signaled their desire to fuck with darkened and narrowed eyes, and working jaws. 

Ben traced the outline of your red lips with the tip of his index finger. You parted your lips, signaling for him to place the tip into the small hole that had formed. He smirked and pressed his finger inside and you licked it. He pushed it further, making you suck. 

“My dirty girl,” he purred. “Where else do you want my fingers?”

You smiled, took his free hand, and guided it to between your legs. He hummed and grabbed your fleshy mound. Then, he removed his finger from your mouth and replaced it with his lips and hot tongue. When he was satisfied with the amount of your saliva he’d collected, he pushed the small dining table back, knelt to the floor, and lifted your emerald green sundress.

You froze and clamped your thighs shut.

“Shouldn’t we go inside, Ben?”

His hungry eyes met yours. He squeezed the soft fabric between his fingers and proceeded to lift your dress until it stopped at your knees. 

“No.”

He placed a hand between your knees to space them apart but you kept them clamped shut.

“What if somebody sees us, Honey?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he said with shortness. “I’m not waiting another second to taste you.”

You exhaled. Your clit perked up, but Ben was still. His eyes still on you and the skirt of your dress still scrunched between his fingers. 

“I don’t care about your size, Y/N. You know that,” he said.

“I know you don’t,” you started. “But, sometimes, I do.”

Ben released your dress and rubbed your clothed legs. “May I ask a favor of you?”

“Sure, Baby,” you responded, running your fingers through this hair.

“For me--just this one time--let me fuck you right here,” he requested. You swallowed, but before you could speak, he continued. “I want to see your pussy clench when the cool air hits it, then feel it melt when I wrap my lips around your clit...”

He tugged at the skirt of your dress again. “I want to see the sky behind you when I hold your legs in the air.”

Your knees weakened and your ass began to sink into the sofa. Ben pushed your skirt to your thighs and pulled your panties down.

“No more underwear this weekend,” he demanded. He balled your panties up, stood up, leaned over you, and threw them out in the ocean. Then, he fell back to his knees and pushed your heavy legs back.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you fell back on the sofa. You jumped at the feeling of cool air on your moistening pussy and bare thighs. Ben rubbed his fingers up and down your ass and reached up to pull the sandals off your feet. 

“I want to see how your skin glows under a sunset when I’m making you come...”

Ben gripped the back of your right knee with his left hand and rubbed circles over your ever-spreading labia with the pads of his right fingers. You moaned for him--moaned for yourself. Your mind relaxed as your nipples awakened. 

“Is your pussy as juicy as it looks?” he asked.

You threw your head back, now a complete goner. Suddenly, you felt a quick sting on your pussy lips, making you gasp. Your head shot up and you looked beyond your belly and into Ben’s fierce eyes.

“Answer me.”

You nodded profusely. “Yes, Baby. It is. Get a taste, Baby. Please.”

“Mmm...” he said, his index and middle fingers retreating from the others to rub deep into your slit--the crevice keeping your plush pussy lips together slowly drifted apart as your clit poked through them. He slid the two fingers over your wet clit--the insides of his digits stroking the soft bud, and the outsides stroking the warm inner flesh of your labia. Finally, he turned his palm up, pushed his middle finger inside of your welcoming hole, and trailed the very tip of his tongue from your opening to the pointed end of your edible rose.

“Oh, God...” you whispered. 

Ben took his time--licking every centimeter of your delicious pussy--slurping, sucking, smelling--burying his nose inside to get it sticky. You were helpless under him--pussy melting, ass cheeks sticking together with sweat and arousal. Ben would look up to see your contorted face--your breasts jiggling every time you moaned or groaned. He glanced at the orange sun setting behind you, smiled, and returned his focus to his task. When you grabbed his hair, he pulled away.

“I want your first orgasm from me to be on my dick,” he said, unbuttoning his pants. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him. Once Ben’s pants and boxers were on the floor, he sat on the sofa and gestured for you to come toward him. “Get on top.”

You froze again. 

“Ben, I don’t--”

Suddenly, his long arm reached out and his hand was around your wrist. He yanked you close--your face nearly falling into his lap. 

“Don’t be disobedient, Princess,” he said. You exhaled, and as fast as you could, climbed onto your knees, hiked up your skirt, and threw your leg over Ben’s lap to straddle him. He alleviated some of your worry by holding your left ass cheek in his hand, and his dick with the other. With his help, you slowly sank on his length. He stared at you the entire way down--patient, but hungry. He seemed to have an aversion to showing too much emotion, but you saw his eyebrows scrunch when your hot walls stretched for him--when he felt just how slick you were.

“That’s it, Gorgeous,” he mumbled. He bit his lip and smacked your ass. “Now, bounce on it. That’s your dick...”

You lifted your hips and fell back down with a pained-but-pleasured moan. 

“Give that tight pussy what it needs.”

“Fuck!” you shouted, picking up your pace.

Ben’s hands rested on the bottom of your ass as it jiggled and bounced in the salty, aqueous air. “Shit! Yes! God! Fuck! Ahh!” a chorus of obscenities you sang out to the sky--so loud, so free that the few remaining clouds parted so that the praise of your own pleasure could be heard by the naughty sector of angels. 

You covered him in your juices. Your flesh clapped against his. He’d ripped the bust of your dress and licked the sweat off your breasts. You pulled his hair. You called him Baby, he called you Princess. You screamed “yes!” he grabbed your throat to momentarily trap the sound. The heavens couldn’t have all of your “yeses”--your body needed to absorb some of your beautiful sounds, too. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered--your fingers falling to your clit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you shouted as your clit turned to mush under your fingers--gushing and clenching around Ben’s girth. Your head flew back and your eyes crossed as you rode out your wave. When you came to, you recognized Ben’s grazes against your flesh. 

After a quick, hot kiss, you climbed off his lap and he bent you over the sofa. He sucked at your juice and swallowed sticky cream. And as you observed the waters part for the heavy boat, you felt your walls part once more. Ben buried himself deep inside of your sensitive pussy and leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“You feel so good,” he said. He dragged out of you and slipped back inside. You turned your head in his direction and he found your lips and kissed you with passion--with fire. Then, he slammed into you repeatedly, chasing his own orgasm. He reached around to rub your clit, hoping to bring you to your second.

“No!” you squealed--squirming away from his touch, but he pressed down harder.

“Yes,” he retorted. “I know you’ve got some more in you. Give me another one.”

Feeling the pressure building inside of you again, you bounced back against Ben’s crotch. 

“There you go,” he said through gritted teeth. “That’s it. Take what you want, Princess...take what you want...”

Just seconds after you exploded on his fingers and around his rock-hard dick, you felt him pulse inside of you. After a few more strokes, he stilled his movement--and you felt his warm cum spreading around inside of you--filling you up. 

Ben collapsed on your back but quickly crashed onto the sofa--as did you. The two of you caught your breath, then you finished your dessert and champagne. When the sky was completely dark, you’d gone back inside of the boat, washed, and changed into warmer clothes. Then, you went back out onto the deck, cuddled on your christened sofa to look at the stars. “I saw you in a dream,” he said out of nowhere.

“Hmm?”

He ran his fingers up and down your arm. “I dreamed about you before I met you. That’s how I knew you were my girl.”

You smiled and felt the urge to break up the sappiness before you started to tear up. “A genius and a psychic. Are you strong with The Force, too?”

Ben smiled--something he rarely did. “Don’t tease me when I’m being sentimental, Princess.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. You gazed into each other’s eyes, then Ben gave you another kiss and pulled you closer to him. ______________________ Thank you to @bluestarego @ellelaconi @xxcatrenxx @millenialcatlady @mariesackler and @clydes-hole for helping me out with this one!

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Origin of MC

Just filling in some blanks here. Heheh

“Are you really okay with leaving her there?”

Principal Hilbert Ron Anjou had just boarded the helicopter and soared into the stormy skies over Tokyo headed for an artificial island. An impossible number of Corpse Guards, zombie creatures enchanted by alchemy, had awakened and answered the call of the Light King’s arrival. Not only would that many creatures overwhelm Japan and cost thousands of lives, they would announce the existence of dragons to the world. The Nations of the world would come across a power more dangerous than nuclear bombs and the resulting slaughter that would come from a new Cold War would make a disaster in Tokyo fade from the history books. They were the last stand against the encroaching horde and the potential world shattering disaster. It was likely that Anjou wouldn't survive this encounter. The possibility of failure was high. Their only hope was to attract all of these beasts and survive that concentrated number of monsters long enough to set off a bomb that would kill them all in an instant.

And yet Caesar was asking about that girl.

Principal Anjou reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a swiss hand powered gold watch. He pressed his thumb and it snapped open. “You lasted five whole minutes. It seems this mission has matured you.”

“Answer the goddamn question.”

The tone in Caesar’s voice would have made even a seasoned mobster beg for his life. Caesar was good at bluffing and bluster and could be intimidating for fun. Anjou turned his head and looked Caesar in the eyes. That icy stare was completely serious. Whatever Anjou said would likely define their entire relationship going forward. Either Anjou would win Caesar over now or potentially end up on a hit list down the line.

Anjou returned the watch to his pocket and  then dug out another object. He handed Caesar a black thumb drive marked with the Cassell World tree. These black drives were top secret and only issued to those directly involved in high level operations. “The password is Lenin.”

When Caesar plugged in the drive into his tablet computer, he had twenty seconds and one chance to enter the password correctly. His eyes widened slightly when Chu Zihang deftly reached over and entered it for him. Caesar leaned away. “Hey! He gave it to me, not you!”

Chu Zihang was expressionless and silent. He knew Caesar had an issue with remembering and entering passwords on the Trieste.

Caesar huffed and looked at the image before him. It was the MC lying covered in cloth on an operating table. An IV was in her arm and an oxygen mask was over her face. She looked asleep.

“When she arrived we thought she was dead. Not only was she frozen solid with no pulse, she was riddled with bullets from large caliber machine gun rounds.”

“Where did she come from?” Caesar flipped to the next picture that displayed the last clothes she wore. It was a colorful and warm coat and dress, like a young girl should wear to a party.

“She came with no postmark or packing slip. It’s not like UPS would deliver cargo like that.” Anjou chuckled. “She was hand delivered to our doorstep like a baby in a basket.”

Caesar flipped to the next picture. There was a note on modern notebook paper that had two numbers on it. “Coordinates?”

“Yes, when we entered the coordinates they took us to the middle of the sea of Japan. Nowhere near Siberia.”

“Then the person who sent her knew about the dragon’s awakening before we did?”

Anjou didn’t turn around. He stared into the stormy sea ahead of them. The dark ocean was foaming white and was hilly with waves, like a moving mountain range. “She also came with two injections of a special serum that would stabilize her bloodline.”

Caesar flipped to that photo of the serum that was entrusted to Chu Zihang. It was labeled in Japanese script with the symbol of the Devil Clan on it. “Who ever sent her... knew… everything?”

“You haven’t written your report yet. If you say they knew everything… then I assume you understand what you're looking at more than I do. What I remember most was when her heart finally started to beat. It was within that hour that I received notification that the dragon embryo was detected at the exact coordinates on the note she came with.”

Anjou sighed. “How could I not send her with you? Hybrids like her are not permitted into Cassell College with good reason. It was a gamble. After all, she could have been sent to sabotage us.” Anjou finally turned to face Caesar, eyes narrowed. “Was she?”

Caesar’s shoulders lowered and released their tension, looking at the tablet. “No. She has been an asset to the mission and knew vital information. I don’t know how we would have made it without her.”

Anjou nodded sagely. “It’s not that I’m okay with leaving her at the Well. I trust that is where she needs to be. Where she was assigned to be by the one who sent her. I believe MC was sent to kill the god.”

Caesar looked up, eyes wide. “Then why bother using the weapon at all? Just shut it down!”

“I’ve left the kinetic weapon in the care of the Vice Principal.” Anjou grinned. “He has the same information I do.”

Caesar sat back in his seat, letting all his breath out. He smiled, running his hands through his hair. “You could have just said that.”

Anjou turned to face front. “Consider it a trust building exercise, my boy!” 

Anjou was serious on the outside but inside he was gleeful. Judging from Caesar’s response alone the MC had made a fantastic impression on her first mission. If she completed this assignment, she was sure to get a passing grade and scholarship at the college! 

[outshinethestars]

To Lose a Home Piece by Piece (Merlin fic)

When Gwaine was nearly twelve he was sent away with his mother and his sister with nothing but the clothes on their backs and a small purse full of coin that his mother clutched like it could save them, and his father’s sword.

(“What on earth are you bringing that for?” his mother asked, “We can’t hope to sell it without buying trouble.”

“It’s my father’s sword.  I’m keeping it.”

“Well, you’re carrying it then.  Don’t expect me to help if you get tired.”)

Gwaine’s father had never been a very skilled knight, but he had been loyal.  He had, as far as Gwaine could tell, been a nearly flawless person.  Gwaine thought that loyalty should be rewarded, even if it wasn’t particularly practical.  His father had been a mostly useless knight, but he had been a good one.  But good meant nothing to Caerleon.

Maybe if his mother’s begging had been more begging and less demand, maybe if his mother were less haughty, or if her family hadn’t been a nuisance to the king and kingdom in general for generations, it could have been different.  It could also have been different if his mother’s family cared at all for their youngest daughter who had married a fourth-rate knight.  But it was Gwaine’s father, with his unremarkable connections and bloodline, and his unfailing faithfulness, that had died in Caerleon’s service, and in reward for that, the king sent his wife and children away without hope or thanks.

(“That was a very foolish thing you did, my lord,” Queen Annis said.

“We were in the midst of a bad harvest even before the war, it is entirely impractical to feed and house the woman and her children out of charity.  You cannot call me too cruel.”

“If anyone calls your actions cruel it is your own conscience.  But I meant that they were foolish.  From what I’ve observed, the boy, Gwaine, has the best head on his shoulders of any of your knights’ sons, and he’s certainly the most skilled in his sword practice.  In five or ten years, he could have been one of the best knights of his generation, and you need good knights.”

“What do you know about knightly arts?” said the king, brusquely.  He had never thought to pay attention to the children who would one day serve him.)

In the small town where Gwaine’s mother managed to buy a tiny hut for herself and her children, Gwaine’s family were not well-liked.  His mother and sister were too proud and withdrawn, and Gwaine was too angry and too eager to prove he was tough.

They survived, that first year.  They survived, and by noble standards they barely managed to, but by the standards of the homeless peasants they were (for they were not houseless, but they were homeless , cast out by king and family and place, and left with few belongings and no belonging at all) they survived quite reasonably.

Because of this, Gwaine’s mother and sister, remembering their days of satin and comfort complained bitterly throughout the cold winter.  But Gwaine, seeing that his lot was no worse than his neighbors’, felt that he had no right to be bitter, which of course only made him more miserable.  His mother talked proudly of what they deserved as nobility, as though they ought to be given everything simply because of who they were, that the commoners, their neighbors, should be grateful, for what she would not say.  His sister nodded along, but Gwaine did not hold with such things, not when, so far as he could tell with his own eyes and heart and mind, people were just people.  Gwaine’s anger was instead directed towards the king and nobility in general, and the more his mother and sister bemoaned the sad loss of their noble rights, the more Gwaine disdained them, and so he lost what remained of his family.

Gwaine was a lonely boy, then, and he spent much of his time practicing with his father’s sword, because he liked it, and because he felt as though it proved something.  What, he did not know.

(“Aren’t you too old for games?” His mother snapped.  She had become increasingly snappish, but then so had Gwaine.

“It’s not a game,” Gwaine said, “What if bandits attacked the village?”

“What,” his mother laughed unkindly, “You’d fight them off all on your own?”

Better to die fighting than to live like this, Gwaine thought.)

But the money ran out, and their neighbors' kindness ran thin.  Gwaine helped in some of the wealthier farms, and in return they gave him food and wool and other necessities.  (Gwaine’s mother did not know how to spin, and refused to learn, so they had to pay someone else to do it.)  But even the most well-off farms didn’t have enough money to spare to pay Gwaine for his work, and Gwaine’s mother saw the gifts of food as charity (which it sort of was) and her pride could not abide it.  So she put an end to Gwaine working at farms, and they scraped by on what money they could make from Gwaine’s mother and sister doing mending and embroidery.  (The embroidery they mostly sold in town, which was nearly a full day’s walk away).

It was not enough.  It certainly wasn’t enough to feed a growing boy, just entering adolescence.

“What good are you?” his mother said to him one day soon after Gwaine turned fourteen, with winter approaching close on their heels,  “You’ll eat us out of house and home without an ounce of gratitude.”

And Gwaine, half starved and angry to his bones, looked at this woman who was his mother, whom he had no respect for at all.  He felt certain that he had loved her, once, when their lives were kinder, but he could not remember it now.

“All right,” Gwaine said, “I’ll leave then.”

And so, when Gwaine was fourteen, he walked away with nothing but the clothes on his back and his father’s sword.

[lynelovespopculture]

THE CHILLING ADVENTURES OF ZELDA CHAPTER 19-SALEM FAUSTUS MUST RESCUE HIS DAUGHTER FROM WHERE NO WITCH SHOULD GO.

Zelda didn’t believe what she just heard. She walked across the room so she could read the text herself. She read it twice and still shook her head. “No, I don’t believe it. Our Cordelia just can’t be on her way to Salem. She just can’t be!”

Jake, who wasn’t exactly in the loop, gasped. “You can’t mean that Cordelia is on her way to Salem, that Salem, THE Salem?!”

“Apparently so,” Ambrose answered him.

Faustus, meanwhile, checked his watch and walked quickly to the front hall where everyone followed him.

“Where are you going, Uncle Faustus,” Ambrose called out.

“It’s 8:30 now and I know that the bus should have left at 5:30. Despite that 3-hour head start, I going to see if I can catch it before they reach Salem.”

“I’m going with you.” Zelda reached for her coat but Faustus stopped her.

“No, dearest.” Faustus shook his head. “I understand completely why you want to come along, but if worse comes to worst and I have to go all the way to Salem, I won’t be able to explain your presence. It’s my class on that trip. The only reason I’m not with them right now is that I told them I was sick.” Zelda looked upset and Faustus sought to comfort her with his next statement. “Our girl is very clever. She might get away and come home on her own so someone needs to be here.”

Zelda was still upset but managed to put on a brave face. “Faustus, your trip will go by faster if you don’t have to stop much. I could pack you some sandwiches if you want.”

“Excellent idea, my love.”

10 minutes later, the car was packed and Faustus was ready to go. Jake and Ambrose hung back to allow Zelda and Faustus a private goodbye.

“Do you have everything?” Zelda asked.

“I think so.”

“Call me as soon as you find Cordelia. I don’t care where you are.” Faustus nodded and Zelda sighed and threw her arms around her husband. “And for Hecate’s sake, Faustus,” Zelda whispered into his neck. “Please, please be careful. I simply wouldn’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to you or Cordelia.”

“Shhh, hush my love, the only thing that going to happen is mine and Cordelia’s safe return. Any other outcome is unacceptable.” He then kissed her goodbye. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Zelda returned “Bring home our girl.”

Faustus nodded, kissed her again before he got into the car, and drove off. Even before Faustus’s car drove out of sight, Zelda could feel Ambrose’s arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Aunt Z, if anyone up to this task, it’s uncle Faustus.”

“Absolutely,” Jake agreed. “They’ll be back before you know it.”

The 7-hour bus trip flew by. From the very back, Cordelia watched the other students filed off the bus. Cordelia took a deep breath and got up and tried to get off the bus. However, Mrs. Robinson blocked her.

“Not yet, Cordelia. They’re not ready for you.”

“Ready for me?”

Nina didn’t respond but when Cordelia was allowed to leave the bus, Nina was right by her side. Cordelia noticed that the rest of the class had formed a half-circle. Then, a tall, scary man dressed in a black robe walked out of the shadows and stopped right in front of Cordelia. “Is this the child, then?”

Nina nodded. “It is, your honor.”

Your honor? Cordelia looked from 1 adult to the other.

The man in black pointed at Cordelia. “Has she been charged yet?”

“No, your honor. We thought it best to get her down here and then charge her.”

Charge me? The horror finally dawned on Cordelia. This was no field trip, this was a witch trial. HER witch trial!

Meanwhile, the man in black continued. “What is the child’s name?”

“Cordelia Spellman.” Nina answered.

The man in black arched his eyebrow. “Really? SPELLman? And the name Cordelia hasn’t been in fashion for at least an century. It’s like she’s not even trying to hide it.” For the 1st time, the man in black spoke to Cordelia directly. “So, what do you say, girl? Do you deny it? Do you deny that you’re a witch?”

Cordelia stood tall. “Of course, I deny it. Everyone knows that witches don’t really exist.”

“Is that right, girlie? Let see if you say that after you see this!” He grabbed Cordelia roughly by the arm and guided her between 2 old houses.

“Hey!”

The man in black let go of Cordelia after giving her a little shove. Cordelia looked up and was in shock. There they were; all in a row, bound and gagged, all standing on barrels with nooses around their necks. Her entire family, Faustus, Zelda, Jake, LJ, Prudence, Ambrose, Sabrina, Hilda, and even Dr. C.

Without a 2nd thought, Cordelia turned to the man in black. “Okay, you got me. I am a witch. But I’m the only 1. My family didn’t even know, they’re completely innocent. Do whatever you want to me but let them go!”

“Bull!” The man in black declared. “Everyone knows that magic goes through the bloodline so if you're a witch, so is your family.”

“But I’m adopted!” Cordelia stressed. It was the 1st thing she could think of.

“Then why do you look exactly like your mother? You’re lying!” The man in black turned to the men behind the barrels. “Hang them!” He ordered.

“NO!” Cordelia screamed but the man in black held her as the barrels were kicked and the Spellmans were hanged.

“And as for you,” The man in black stared hatefully down at Cordelia. “You’re a witch by your own admission. Your punishment will be to burn at the stake.”

Cordelia didn’t, couldn’t say anything. Her entire family was just murdered for just being born witches. She choked back tears as she was tied to the stake.

“Daughter, would you like to do the honors?” The man in black asked.

“I would love to.”

Suddenly, Cordelia was face to face with Sara, who had a torch in her hand.

“I knew you were trouble since the 1st day I saw you!”

Sara only smiled. “Goodbye, witch. Thanks for the friends.” Sara lit the pyre and Cordelia watched the orange flames crack, flickering, and then it jumped? When the fire jumped for the 2nd time, Cordelia felt her body jump with it.

The next thing Cordelia knew, her eyes opened and she realized she was still on the bus. As the other students were laughing and talking, some about the recent speedbump they just passed, Cordelia sat up. Her hand on her chest, willing her heartbeat to go back to normal. Cordelia looked up at the sound of loud laughter. She grew sad when she realized it was Sara and the triplets. Cordelia frowned; she was so happy and excited to get the text this morning. She practically ran all the way to the schoolyard. When she discovered that they were already on the bus, Cordelia thought nothing of going on the bus. Yet the more she talked, the more Cordelia saw the triplets’ faces grew blanker and blanker. They had no idea what she was talking about! Cordelia’s heart sank yet she knew she wasn’t crazy. She knew that the text came from Erin’s phone. Cordelia suspected that Sara may have stolen the phone and sent the message herself to make Cordelia look foolish. Cordelia turned to get off the bus when Mrs. Robinson stopped her. Mrs. Robinson then showed her the paper and the name on it. Cordelia knew it was faked, (it must be!) There was no one there to save her. Cordelia’s heart fell into her shoes when she realized the bus to Salem was moving and she was still on it. With no other choice, Cordelia sat in the very back, which on a deluxe bus was like a padded bench with seat belts, and tried to control her breathing, just like she was trying to do now.

“Are you okay, Cordelia?” asked a classmate who sat nearby.

“I’m fine, Anne.” Cordelia lied. She was anything but fine! It was actual life and death if someone discovered her secret. As she sat up and looked around the bus, she envied the happy carefree smiles of her peers. Half of Cordelia just wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole. The other half of her just wanted to stand up and scream. This entire journey was billed as an educational trip but Cordelia couldn’t understand what, if anything, could be ‘educational’ about a town infamous for killing witches, her kind, her people. For Cordelia, this was just as cruel as taking a person of the Jewish faith to tour a WW II death camp. Cordelia sighed as she quickly wiped a tear away. She had already decided that the only way to survive this weekend was to stay down and keep quiet. Hoping to distract herself, Cordelia took out her phone.

“Aw, man!” Cordelia groaned as she read the new message. Cordelia decided earlier not to involve her family. After all, nothing good could come from bringing even more witches to Salem. Despite this, by around 8:30, in a fit of panic, Cordelia texted her father. The instant she hit send, she regretted it. The only thing she could do now was hoping against hope that Faustus didn’t get the message. Now she knew; not only did her father get the message, but he also sent a reply.

Dear Cody,

Stay clam. I’m coming to get you as soon as can. I love you. Dad.

With a defeated sigh, Cordelia let her phone drop into her lap and rested her forehead against the window. She was already stressed as hades and they weren’t even there yet! When Cordelia noticed the sun was beaming down on her, she reached for the golden crescent moon at her neck. “Father sun, mother moon, make time fly. Make this weekend end soon.” She whispered.

Faustus didn’t understand. It was only 2 days ago that Cordelia came home crying at the mere thought of going to Salem, convinced she would die. Now she was on a bus going there? It just didn’t make any sense. Faustus knew how important Cordelia’s friends were to her but still, he just couldn’t imagine his strong-willed daughter being so desperate to win her friends’ favor that she would be talked into taking the trip. Further proof of this was Cordelia’s own text message. The message wasn’t a confessional of a kid who got carried away. It was more like a cry for help. It actually contained the phase S.O.S, which had to be a plea for help. Even if Cordelia had gone to Salem willingly, it shouldn’t have been allowed by her teachers. Even though he had always planned to claim illness and pull out at the last second, as the 7th-grade teacher, Faustus was preparing for this trip all week. Therefore, he knew that every student needed a permission slip signed by a parent or guardian to even go on the trip. Now he knew that Zelda would never sign anything that would put their daughter anywhere near Salem and Hecate knows he didn’t sign a permission slip so Cordelia should have never been able to leave with the others. She should have been kicked off that bus the moment a teacher saw her. Every time Faustus thought of his sweet, youngest child alone in that witch-hating town make Faustus pressed his foot hard on the gas pedal. He was driving on the highway, just about to enter yet another town, when something odd happened. The bottom left side of the car bounced and then dragged. The sudden movement startled Faustus so he took his eyes off the road for just a second to see what was wrong in the back. When he turned his attention back to the road, he saw a cat lying in the middle of the laneway. On instinct, Faustus turned to miss the cat and went up onto a curb. As soon as Faustus collected himself, he got out of the car. He slammed the door, angry at what he saw. The rear left tire had a big nail in it and was still leaking air. The front tire was busted up from hitting the curb.

“Damn!” Faustus swore. So much for catching up to the bus before it got to Salem. Unless…Faustus knelt by the rear tire, raised his hand, and was about to say a spell when-

“Hi there, fellow. Do ya need some help?”

Faustus looked up and saw a kind, elderly man with a tow truck right behind him. Faustus sighed, now he felt stuck. Yes, it would undoubtedly be faster to fix the car by magic, Faustus couldn’t use magic in front of a witness nor could he deny that he was in trouble. So he greeted the man, who was named Gus and it turned out that Gus owned an auto shop in the city. So Gus hooked Faustus’s car up to his truck and they drove to the shop. When they got there, Gus left Faustus in the lobby. 10 minutes later, Gus returned, frowning.

“I’m sorry, friend, but I just found a note from my partner and he had to go tend to an emergency so I’m the only 1 to look after the shop. Plus, I was just in the back, and I swear this never happens, but we seem to out of tires. So, I’m afraid you’re stuck here for a while.”

Faustus sighed. He knew he should have used magic! “Thank you for the ride into town.” He told Gus. Faustus began to walk around the waiting room as Gus went back to work. In the seating area, among the magazines, Faustus found a town map.

“Hey, do you have a bathroom here?”

“Yeah. 1st door on the left.” Gus answered.

“Thank you.” Faustus was pleased to discover that it was a private, single-person bathroom. After locking the door, Faustus unfolded the map and studied it until he found that there was A Walmart supercenter in this town. Astral projecting to a place you never been before was always risky, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He laid the map on the floor and then he laid beside the map. Faustus closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. It worked; for when Faustus opened his eyes again, he was right in front of the store. After thanking Hecate, Faustus entered the store. It was big and crowded so Faustus knew he had to hurry. Faustus made quick work of finding the auto department and selecting the correct tires. The trouble, as Faustus soon learned, was upfront. There was only 1 check-out station open and a very long lineup. Faustus stood in line, carrying a tire in each hand when he saw the 1st of those hateful birds in the window.

Oh no! Come on, come on, come on! Faustus silently willed the line to get a move on already.

Soon after, came another bird and another. By the time there were 4, Faustus realized his nose was bleeding. When 6 birds were all in a row, Faustus’s entire body was shaking and his head felt ready to explode. He could hold on no more. Sighing, Faustus dropped the tires and closed his eyes, only to return to his body on the bathroom floor. Faustus sat up and hit the titles with his palms. “Damn it!” He had to find another way to fix his car and get to his daughter and soon!

After all the stories about how all the mortals tortured and killed them, Cordelia wondered if any of the Salem witches ever simply died from boredom. If so, Cordelia may have found their descendent. It was late afternoon and the class was listening to a lecture in an old town hall. The only thing that Cordelia found remotely interesting about this guy was he has been talking for over 2 hours and had still to get a single fact right. If this so ‘witch expect’ attended the academy, Cordelia felt certain that he would easily fail 1st-year witch history. Cordelia sighed and looked out the window, only to see a graveyard, because, of course, there was a graveyard right there! Maybe it was because she was a real witch, but ever since she had arrived in Salem, Cordelia has been experienced odd things. Like wherever she went, Cordelia heard noises, like moaning and weeping, possibly from the murdered witches. Even though the Salem roads were paved, Cordelia could swear she heard splashing, as if she was walking on blood. Cordelia shook her head and turned the other way. Cordelia managed to lock eyes with Erin, and they smiled at each other. The bus had arrived in Salem at 12:30. So the first thing the class did was have lunch at a restaurant called The Witch’s Brew. (Salem got absolutely zero points for subtly.) Cordelia had a bit of luck when she was seated next to Erin at lunch. She was finally got to explain about the text, how the girls wanted to talk to her before leaving for Salem and how it came from Erin’s phone. Erin then explained that she lost her phone 3 days ago. In fact, the last thing Erin did before she left the house this morning was to ask her mom to keep looking for it. Therefore, Erin couldn’t have written that text. Still, the 2 girls got to talking during the meal and at least, for now, there was peace between Cordelia and 1 of her friends. The lecture was finally over and the class started to file out. Cordelia sneaked away to the bathroom. She did this several times today, whenever she felt the need to regroup.

You’re doing great, girl. Cordelia thought to herself. All you have to do now is get through supper, another walking tour, and then it’s off to the motel for the night. Then just 3 more days, Cordelia sighed.

When Cordelia returned to the front, she noticed that everyone from before had gone and only 2 maids were talking to each other.

“I don’t know, Dru. We come in here every day and we listen to that blockhead, every single day, telling lie after lie. But it seems especially wrong to let him tell all this to schoolchildren. It just seems so irresponsible to me.”

Drusilla, the other maid, sighed. “Shelley, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times. It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, he’s just another mortal spinning fairy tales for mortal children. It has nothing to with us.”

“Us?” Cordelia jumped into the conversation without thinking. “You’re not mortals either? Are you witches?”

The 2 maids were visually shocked. “Mortal? Who said mortal?” Drusilla asked. “I said more tell, yeah, more tell. That darn lecturer is always leaving without telling us.”

While Drusilla was trying, very unsuccessfully, to talk herself out of trouble, Shelley knocked over the bucket of water she was mopping with. “Oh, for Hades’s sake!”

Cordelia smiled. “For Hade’s sake? That sounds like a witch phase to me. Don’t worry, I’m a witch too.”

“Oh, great. Another little girl who thinks she’s a real witch.” Although Drusilla muttered this to herself, Cordelia still overheard her.

The Spellman witch raised her hand and the spilled water was back in the bucket. “Now do you believe me?” Cordelia smiled.

“You are a witch.” Shelley said with awe and then pointed to the door. “What about the class you came in with? Are they witches?”

“No.” Cordelia shook her head. “They’re all mortals, I’m the only one.”

Drusilla raised an eyebrow. “You’re here all alone? What are you? 11?”

“12, actually,” Cordelia answered. “Yes, I’m alone, but it’s a long and confusing story and I don’t know how to explain it. What about you 2? Do you live in Salem as well as working here?”

“Dru lives in town, but you wouldn’t find me here after dark.”

Drusilla rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be such a baby, Shelley. I figured I’m safer here than anywhere else, kind of how like a farmer will never search for a fox in a henhouse.”

Cord smiled, she wasn’t sure whether that statement was madness or brilliant.

“Don’t worry, kid.” Drusilla continued. “Your day trip must be almost over. You’ll be home before you know it.”

“Oh, it’s not a day trip. The class will be here until Monday.”

“You’re staying overnight? Here? At a motel? But what about the rebels?” Shelley seemed frightened.

“The rebels?” Cordelia asked. “Who or what are the rebels?”

“They’re a secret group of mortals who believe that witches never left Salem. It’s said that to this day, they go around at night, leaving fresh blood on the motel door of witches.”

“Don’t scare her with that old wives’ tales! I’ve lived here for almost ten years and that never happened to me.”

“That’s because you don’t use motels.”

Drusilla dismissed Shelley with a shake of her head and took something out of her pocket. “Pay no mind to Shelley, but I would feel better if you took this good luck charm.”

“I just can’t take it. What if I pay for it?” Cordelia suggested. “$5 bucks?”

They agreed and as they exchanged items, Drusilla caught sight of Cordelia’s wrist. “Oh my gosh! Have you always had that?”

“What? My birthmark? Yes, I’ve always it.”

Drusilla rubbed it a bit with her thumb. “It’s not coming off. If this is what I think it is, well, honey, you are not a witch, you are THE witch.”

“What does that mean?”

Before anyone could speak further, Mrs. Applegate, another teacher from Greendale middle school, appeared at the door. “Here you are, Cordelia. Come along, it’s time for dinner and it’s starting to rain.”

It was still raining when Faustus watched the sunset from 1 of the auto shop’s windows then he sighed and turned away. Faustus simply couldn’t believe he had wasted most of the day here. This partnership with the van had yet to show up and Gus was busy with a steady stream of customers. Despite being in the same place most of the day, Faustus tried desperately to make contact with his daughter with a series of calls, texts, and video messages, all to no avail. It wasn’t surprising. After all, the class must have arrived in Salem hours ago and the 1st rule of any field trip was to turn off any and all cell phones. As for Zelda, Faustus sighed again. Faustus was too ashamed to call Zelda. Yes, he promised to call his wife as soon as he found Cordelia, but not only had he yet to find their daughter, he had no new news of her whatsoever. Maybe because it was later, Faustus thought he should try to reach Cordelia again. He took a seat in the waiting room and once again, pulled out his phone.

“Hey, I know that girl,” said the guy next to and tapped where Cordelia was on the family picture that was Faustus’s screen.

Faustus turned to the stranger. “You do?”

“Sure. I’m a traveling salesman and today I had a business lunch in Salem. Anyway, I was just leaving the restaurant when I saw a bus with a pile of kids coming off it. I remember that girl because she was the last 1 off the bus and she didn’t seem at all happy to be there.”

Faustus nodded as he listening to the other man. Knowing that his daughter was in fact in Salem and had been since lunch lit a fire under Faustus. He stood up and walked with purpose.

“What are you doing?” asked the salesman.

“What I should have done hours ago,” Faustus murmured to himself. He borrowed a phone book from behind the front desk, looked up the listing for a local cab company, and called. He then took a taxi to Walmart and picked out the 2 correct tires in person. 20 minutes after he returned to the auto shop, a man came to see him.

“Mr. Spellman, your new tires are on and ready to go.”

“Great!”

“But I’d like to have a look at your muffler.”

“My muffler?” Aside from the tires, Faustus knew that his car was fine. This guy was just trying to play him for a sucker and Faustus simply didn’t have time for this.

Still, he just said, “Sure, do whatever you have to.”

The man went back into the garage. Faustus found a discreet place to hide, where he could see his car. He waited until someone touched his car before he whispered a spell in Latin. Then the car roared to life, seemly by itself.

Faustus then ran up to the man. “Wow, you seem to have the golden touch. My car is purring like a kitten now. I gave Gus my address so you can bill me. Thank you.” Faustus got into his car and drove off while the man was still trying to figure out what just happened.

Before long, Faustus was back on the highway. One advantage of driving at night was there was barely any traffic. However, as the hours passed and Faustus got closer to Salem, the rain came down harder and harder. So hard that the paved road, that Faustus could barely see, seemed like silver. Still, Faustus kept on driving because of heaven or high water, he was determined to find his daughter…tonight! The clock on the dash read 10:37 when he finally passed the Welcome to Salem sign. Now, all he had to do was find the motel with a bus in front of it. He found it on the 3rd block he went down. Faustus parked his car and ran out of the rain and out the roof of the motel. He ran into some of his students that were lingering outside. They seemed surprised to see him but unfortunately, none of them knew where Cordelia was. Faustus was making his way to the motel’s office. He rounded the corner and ran into Nina, who smiled at him.

“Fausty! You made it! I knew you would.”

“Mrs. Robinson, please tell me, where is my daughter?”

“Oh, she’s rooming with a couple of other girls.” Nina said casually but then she leaned in and whispered “As for me, I’m in room 13, alone and ready whenever you are.”

As Nina walked away, Faustus rolled his eyes and beyond him, he heard a door open, girlish laughter, then a firm closing of the door, and finally a splash, as if falling in a puddle. Faustus turned and indeed, it was a mud puddle. It took a second for the girl to moan and turn over.

“Cordelia?”

Her eyes widened. “Dad?” Cordelia got up and went up to her father. With a quivering lip, Cordelia let go of the tears that she had kept inside all day as she threw her arm around Faustus’s waist.

“I’m sorry, Dad” She nodded. “I really am. I got scared and panicked. I regretted that text message the moment I sent it. I never meant for you or any of the family to come here.”

Faustus gently put his hand under Cordelia’s chin and forced his daughter to look up at him. “Never mind that text.” Faustus gently said. “What are you doing here?”

Cordelia shook her head, furiously. “I don’t know, I really don’t! I meant it when I told Jake I would be back in 10 minutes. I only got on the bus because the triplets were already on it when I reached the schoolyard. It was a total bust because Erin didn’t even send me the message and they just kicked me out because, for the 1st time in my life, I lied to the triplets about believing in witches.”

“Cordy, why didn’t you get off the bus?”

“I tried, but Mrs. Robinson wouldn’t let me. I begged and begged. I even considered teleporting myself home but there were too many witnesses. Then she showed me my permission slip.”

Faustus was confused. “What do you mean? Permission slips are useless until they’re signed.”

“But it was signed, Dad,” Cordelia told him. “It had your signature.”

Mine? Faustus thought, dumbstruck. Then, Faustus thought about how everyone was rightly surprised to see him, except for Nina. Faustus took off his coat and wrapped it around Cordelia. “You’re wet, muddy and you must be cold. Go and wait for me in the office. I’ll be right there, I promise.”

As soon as Cordelia was out of sight, Faustus sighed, turned, and muttered to himself, “Nina Robinson, for your own sake, I better be wrong about this!”

Faustus walked up and knocked on the door of room 13.

“Come in.”

As soon as he opened the door, Faustus noticed that there were candles everywhere in the darkened room, even on the 2nd bed. On the 1st bed, lay Nina, on her stomach, posed as if she was in a playboy magazine. All she wore was a black leather corset, a matching thong, and heels. “I knew you would come. All I had to do is get you away from the school and your wife.”

Furious, Faustus entered the room and slammed the switch that turned on the big light.

“Where are they?” He demanded.

“Where is what?” Asked Nina.

“The permission slips. You have them with you I know it!” Faustus returned, quite fiercely.

Nina said nothing so Faustus looked around and saw a teacher’s leather briefcase leaning against the TV.

“Ah!” Faustus went to the case and searched through it. 1 brief look in the mirror told Faustus that Nina had crawled to the end of the bed and was now was dangerously close to him. “Madam, I advise you to keep your hands to yourself.”

Oh?” said Nina in a flirty manner. “And why is that?”

“Because anything of yours that touches me, you are not getting back!”

Nina frowned. “You’re in a mood.”

Faustus turned to face her. “Yes, I am. Especially since I just found these.” There was a piece of paper in each hand. “Here is a permission slip for Cordelia Spellman and it does indeed bear my signature but I don’t remember signing this but this might explain it.” Faustus raised his other hand. “This is a lined paper, with nothing but my name written on it, over and over again, front and back. Yet the strange thing is at the top of the front paper looks like your handwriting, but the bottom of the back page looks like my handwriting. You forged my name on this permission slip, didn’t you?”

Nina wore her smile proudly. “It worked, didn’t it? You’re here.”

“I came here to bring Cordelia home!” Faustus fumed. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with you! And where do you get your nerve? Kidnapping my daughter and bringing her here, of all places!”

“Kidnapping? Oh, don’t be so overdramatic. It’s only a field trip.”

“To a town infamous for its injustice and murder! It wasn’t your place. It’s up to me and Zelda to decide what our daughter is exposed to!”

“Did you really have to bring your wife up again?” Nina asked, looking bored. “If you ask me, I think that Zelda is too old for you.”

“Not that’s any of your business, but Zelda and I are the same age and you want to know what I think? I think you’re not worthy enough to speak Zelda’s name!”

“Oh, come on, next you’ll tell me that you’re not attracted to me.”

“I’m not and another thing- “Faustus’s voice was drowned out by the ringing of a phone. Faustus automatically looked to the bedside table, where Nina’s phone lay charging. However, Faustus soon realized that the ringing was closer to him. In fact, the phone was in the briefcase. Nina leaped off the bed, trying to get the phone first but because he was closer, Faustus got it.

The pink, sparkly girlish phone looked oddly familiar. “Hello?” Faustus answered. “Mrs. Warner?” Faustus listened for a moment. “Oh, I see. May I ask how long has Erin been looking for this phone? Oh, I see. Yes, I’ll bring it by soon.” He ended the call and then turned to Nina. “Oh, this is low, even for you.”

Nina gave an innocent shrug. “What?”

“You know perfectly well ‘what’” Faustus snapped. “This cell phone belongs to Erin Warner. According to her mother, Erin had been looking everywhere for this for the past 3 days. This makes it impossible for Erin to send that message to Cordelia about wanting to make up at 5 this morning. You did it, didn’t you? You knew the girls were fighting and you knew that Cordelia and I were not coming on this trip. You took advantage of my daughter’s desire to make up with her friends, and once you got her on that damn bus, you kept her there, knowing full well I would come to collect my daughter!”

“But Faustus, I did it for us.”

“There is no us, you lunatic!” Faustus spat. “And I’m getting so tired of rejecting you.”

Nina smiled. “Then don’t.” She tried to put her around Faustus’s neck but he fought her off.

“Enough!” Faustus growled. “I have had it with you! I’ve tried to reason with you, to avoid you, and to explain to you how important my family is to me. All that’s left is the ugly truth so here it is. I will NEVER sleep with you! You could be the last woman, scratch that, the last person on earth, and I would still never sleep with you. In fact, you sickened me because you remind me of who I used to be and who I swore I would never become again. The fact that you would steal a child’s phone makes you a disgrace to the entire teaching profession!” Faustus then ripped up the permission slip and let the pieces fall to the floor. “Consider this me taking back custody of my daughter.” Faustus turned and left without another word, slamming the door behind him. Faustus didn’t want Cordelia to see him angry so he took a moment on the motel’s tiny porch. That’s where he first saw the thunder and lighting in addition to the rain.

The Spellman house had been filling with family all day. As word got around about Faustus, Cordelia, and Salem, people came running. Prudence was first. She was worried when Zelda, who was never late, missed the morning assembly at the academy. Prudence was even more worried when she learned when Zelda wouldn’t be leaving the house today. Hilda learned everything when she called the mortuary. By the time late afternoon rolled around, all the family knew and Ambrose, Jake, Prudence, Hilda, Sabrina, and LJ were all at the house. After dinner, they were joined by Dr. C and the other 2 weird sisters. At first, the plan was simple, just keep Zelda busy and distracted until Faustus called then everything would calm down. But the later it got, the more worried everyone got. By 11, they had run out of topics of conversation and games to play. They all felt helpless as they just sat in the drawing-room and Zelda walked0 up and down the hallway for the million time. Zelda couldn’t sit down; the only reason she ate at all was due to Hilda’s pleading. Zelda refused to go 10 feet without a phone so she stayed on the main floor all day. Zelda had no idea what to do with her hands since her last cigarette was long gone. Zelda sighed when she checked her watch. It was getting so late. If there was still no word from either Faustus or Cordelia by dawn, Zelda had already decided to go to Salem herself but she hadn’t told the others because she didn’t want anyone to talk her out of it. Zelda’s head whipped around as the phone began to ring. She ran to the phone and picked it up.

“Hello, hello?” Zelda tensed as the family gathered around her.

“Zelda? Dearest?”

Zelda’s grip tightened on the phone and closed her eyes and cherishing her husband’s voice. “Faustus! Finally, how are you? Where are you? Have you found Cordelia yet?”

“I’m fine, my dearest,” Faustus assured Zelda. “It’s been an insanely long day but I’m finally in Salem and as for Cordelia” The line went silent for a second and then… “Hi, Mom!”

Zelda bit her lip to keep her tears of joy and relief in check. “Oh, Cordelia, my sweet, precious girl. How are you? Did anyone hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine, Mom. I’ve been with the class all day and no one suspected me at all, I promise. And I definitely feel safer now that Dad’s here with me. Mom, is LJ there?”

“Yes, she’s right here.” Zelda passed the phone to her stepdaughter.

“Hello? Cordy? What’s wrong?”

“LJ, I’m so sorry.”

LJ was confused. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

“Because tonight was the night you were supposed to bring your boyfriend to dinner to meet the family.”

LJ was touched. “The fact that you remember that after all, you had to deal with today proves that you are the sweetest little sister in the whole wide world. Peter can wait. What’s important now is to get you and Dad home safe and sound.”

The sisters chatted for a few minutes and then LJ gave the phone back to Zelda and after a few moments, Cordelia passed the phone back to Faustus.

“So, now that you’re located Cordelia, are you in your home now?” Zelda asked.

“Oh, not exactly dearest. I know that it was my idea to just grab Cordelia and then drive all through the night back to Greendale, but there’s a problem here. You see, there’s a raging storm here and it’s not safe to be on the road. I barely made it here.”

“Can’t you teleport?” Zelda suggested. “Surely you must know the way home.”

“I do, but people saw Cordy and I come in this motel room so we just can’t up and disappear.”

Zelda frowned. “I don’t like the idea of you and Cordelia spending the whole night in Salem.”

“Neither do I,” Faustus agreed, “but it could be a lot worse. You see, Mrs. Applegate was kind enough to give up her room so she will have to share with Mrs. Robinson.” Was it Zelda’s imagination or was there laughter in her husband’s voice? “Anyway,” Faustus continued, “this is a single room so Cordy and I will have to share the bed tonight. The storm is sure to be over by morning and then Cordy and I will be on our way. I can assure you, dearest, I won’t be in this town a moment more than I need to.”

Zelda sighed; she still didn’t like it, but she understood. “Please be careful, Faustus, and give Cordy a goodnight kiss for me. I love you.”

“We’ll be home before you know it. I love you too.”

Although she had taken her wet clothes off when she first got to the room, Cordelia was still cold after the phone call home, so she treated herself to a hot bath. Since she had no PJs, she put the white plush motel robe back on and double knotted it so she could wear it as a nightdress. Faustus then took a quick shower to wash off his road trip. When he stepped back into the main room, he found Cordelia standing before the window, the rain and the moon casting her face in a ghastly glow.

“You know; you were born on a night very much like this.”

Cordelia looked up at him. “Don’t you hear them, Dad?”

“Hear what?”

Cordelia frowned. “The moans pleads and cries of our people. Thousands and thousands of them, crying out in pain and for justice. I’ve been hearing them all day, ever since I got off the bus.”

Faustus heard nothing and thought it must be a divine child thing. “Come on honey, we have a long drive home tomorrow. We better get some sleep.”

As they made themselves comfortable in bed, Faustus noticed something he hadn’t before. “Cordy, why are shivering? Didn’t that bath warm you up?”

“Oh, am I shivering?” His daughter asked. “I’ve been doing it all day. I guess I don’t even notice it anymore.”

Faustus could help smiling to himself. As a 12-year-old witch who had in the company of mortals, doing a tour of Salem all day, Cordelia had every right to be afraid but she would never admit it. She was so strong, so proud, so like her mother. “You’re very brave.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. If I was so brave, I would have never caved and texted you that message.”

“Oh, will you stop! I’m glad you sent that message. I’m glad that I was able to track you down. Besides, the text doesn’t take away from the fact that you just spent an entire day learning about 1 of the darkest chapter in our people’s history.”

“Yep, that’s me. Cordelia the brave…and the friendless.” She muttered.

Faustus felt his face grow hot. This whole thing started because Cordelia wanted to make right with her friends. She must have been heartbroken to learn that her friends didn’t text her this morning. Damn you, Nina! Faustus thought and then said out loud, “Don’t worry Cordy. You’ll make up with the Warners soon, I know it.”

Faustus turned off the lamp and despite being quiet, neither Cordelia nor Faustus slept all night. Maybe they were overtired or overstressed by being 2 witches in Salem. It was dawn when exhaustion finally took Cordelia and she rolled over into her father’s arms. Faustus curled his long-limbed body around her protectively before kissing her forehead. “Don’t worry baby, Daddy’s got you.” He whispered before sleep claimed him too.

1 hour later, a scream woke them up. They jumped out of bed and open the door to see the class, teachers and all of the hotel staff were in front of them. Faustus looked at the door. “Is that paint? Or blood?”

“The rebels” Cordelia whispered, suddenly remembering what the maids told her. She looked around and froze. Her room wasn’t the only marked. There was also blood on the door of the room that the triplets shared with Sara.

[harrowscore]

Mikasa Ackermann, Levi Ackermann, Amane Misa, Aeron Greyjoy for the charactet ask :3

SOMEONE HEARD MY PRAYERS AND NOW MY TIME HAS COME, tysm!!!!! <3

okay, let's start with levi (my beloved):

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life (THEE little feral anime man after my heart)

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang (Dark, Tall and Snarky + piercing grey-blue eyes and chronic insomnia? clearly my type ❤)

hogwarts house: gryffindor (maybe....?) | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

ugh, the hp sorting house system is way too reductive. he has qualities of gryffindor, slytherin, and hufflepuff - brave, astute, loyal to a fault, etc. so it's a hard choice. but if i really have to choose, i'd go for gryffindor. i know that his Bad Boy facade shouts slytherin, but while he has larger goals (killing all the titans, then saving the world etc.), he's got no actual ambition for himself. hufflepuff would also be a good option.

daemon (from the his dark materials series): (because i've just decided that's just way more accurate than the hp method) some kind of big feline. maybe a panther - a black panther would be the ideal - aloof, predatory, dangerous, fiercely independent.

best quality: besides his obvious strenghts as a leader and warrior, the way he cares for his comrades-in-arms. it's very hard to gain his trust and respect, but once you have it, it's forever. he's pragmatic and ruthless, yes, but he also has a huge capacity for compassion and friendship. not that he would be effusive about his affections, of course.

worst quality: none, he's absolutely perfect ❤ jklsdfhjk jokes aside, he really struggles to open up (a serious understatement), idt he ever talked about his traumatic past with anyone. i mean, maybe he mentioned it to hange and erwin (erwin knew him when he was still an undergound thug, so...), but... he's not great with feelings. despite his apathetic, intimidating mask, he feels and cares deeply, but he has a long history with losing the people he loves, so he tries to not personally care about his squadmates, which can be both a strenght and a weakness. of course, he spectacularly fails at this.

ship them with: well, it's not a secret that i'm a huge rivamika fan, this ship is almost literally consuming my waking thoughts lmao. imo they're perfectly compatible: very similar personalities (stoic, the strongest warriors, absolutely terrifying on the battlefield but with a soft underbelly), very similar pasts/experiences, so many parallels that it's actually ridiculous, etc. i love how they're both each other's equals and likeness (yes, i took it from jane eyre. no, i don't regret anything lmao). a lot of tropes i love, too: Terrible First Impression (the Pride and Prejudice vibes are so strong with these two, you have no idea), Kindred Spirits/Mirror Images, Veteran/Young Prodigy, The Last of Their Kind, even Height Difference lmao. i could write a whole rivamika manifesto, but this is already too long. (maybe for some other time 👀) i would've loved for their dynamic to be more explored in canon but alas, isayama clearly didn't give a shit about the ackerman legacy, he just used it as a plot shortcut to give them conveniently unique powers, since they never really talked about it 🙄 (and before some troll comes into my askbox shouting "you iNcEsT fReAk!!!!1!!", they're only very distantly related. we know shit about the ackermans but we know for sure that they've got at least several generations between them. biologically their shared DNA is 0%, obviously they don't see each other as family, all the eldians have a dead ass common ancestor from 2000 years ago so they're all basically ⁓related anyway. if you really wanna scream about i.ncest, go watch got/dark/the borgias and shut the fuck up please. or alternatively go outside and touch some grass) sorry for the rant, uh. anyway, i can also see levi/erwin. idk if i'd ever care enough to read a fic about them (i'm usually a huge multishipper, but for some weird reason not when it comes to rivamika? same with braime and kastle tbh), but still, i can see it.

brotp them with: hange and erwin, obv. veteran trio >>> ema trio, sorry not sorry (at least h. and e. died before yams had the chance to ruin their character arcs)

needs to stay away from: ...uh, filth, i guess? lmao

misc. thoughts: besides the stupid teenage fangirl crush i have on him, i'm genuinely fascinated by the man himself. he's a huge mess of a contradictions, and yet somehow it works: he's violent and brash and kind of an asshole, but also has a strong moral code and integrity; he's obv very skilled at all the killing/torturing stuff and yet he has a huge respect for life; he's got a potty mouth to say the least, and yet some very aristocratic manners/tastes (the way he sits, his preference for tea and usually refined clothes); he comes from what's supposed to be an illustrous bloodline, he's methodical and very precise, and yet he was born and raised in the underground, he's been used to filth and blood and poverty since he was a child, kenny of all people was his father figure, and probably has known no other life than a perennial survival mode existence. he's "humanity's strongest soldier", but while well-built he's also small, the david to the titans' goliah, and probably not what people would assume a born warrior looks like. he's also one of the few characters who stayed true to himself and his original characterization until the end, bless you smol king ❤

(okay, this is getting long!)

mikasa:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them (so much. she deserved better ❤️) | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! (stunning lady ❤) | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

this is actually easy: mikasa belongs to hufflepuff and no, i won't take criticism (just joking lol). enough with this "hufflepuffs are fluffy puppies/Cinnamon Rolls <3" thing: mikasa values loyalty and duty more than anything else. she's also hardworking... and fierce, strong, lethal. yes, hufflepuff and lethal are not mutually exclusive concepts.

daemon: (finally the better option) a she-wolf, fiercely protective of her pack.

best quality: loyal, brave, incredibly strong (alongside her more fragile qualities). practical and level-headed on the battlefield, at least when eren is not included in the picture.

worst quality: struggles to let go of the past (understandable, considering her trauma). tunnel-vision when it comes to eren, obv. extreme levels of delusions ("if only i spoke openly about my romantic feelings for him - as if i didn't made them abundantly clear in ⁓6 years - he wouldn't kill 80% of humanity :(((" lmao okay. just. okay), but that's more on the writing. she's sadly more static than any other main character throughtout the whole series.

ship them with: see above :) but recently i've also started to be intrigued by mikasa/annie and mikasa/sasha. also, i'm sympathetic to jeankasa fans, though i don't actually care for the ship.

brotp them with: EMA trio, especially armin+mikasa. their friendship is so beautiful and special. also sasha.

needs to stay away from: ...... eren, at least romantically. again, that's more on the writing than anything else, but e.remika unfortunately encompasses many tropes i loathe with all the strength of my old shriveled heart: childhood friends-to lovers where the (male) childhood friend doesn't acknolewdge/is completely indifferent to the other (female) friend's romantic feelings, she hopelessly pines for him for years without anything more than a cold shoulder... until in the last chapter it's revealed that he loved her all along and doesn't "want other men to have her!!! :((" (then why did you have no reaction whatsoever to jean's years-long crush on her while she was jealous of any vaguely female-shaped human being you were friendly to, including hange? are you that dumb, man?); the female character's development and entire arc 100% revolves around the male protagonist - she has no goals, no dreams of her own except staying with him forever and ever; the romance is based on an idealized childhood dream, therefore reaffirming those childish illusions would make the character regress, not actually grow up (and nope, epilogue!jk doesn’t count; that also lacks build-up - i would’ve said the same about rm as well, so it’s not about shipping, guys, it really isn’t - and mikasa needed an inner change; getting married to another man but still praying to eren’s shrine is not substitute to actual development lol). post-time skip she's never really frustrated/angry with him, they never get a confrontation about him becoming a, y'know, mass-murderer of gigantic (pun intended) proportions; she puts him on a pedestal, and never stops idealizing him/never sees him for what he actually is (the narrative framing him as some kind of tragic martyr/saint eren from paradis with zero agency and basically... no clear motivation for the abovementioned mass murder, and not the actual complex tragic anti-hero/villain motivated by revenge and righteous fury he deserved to be, does not help). it lacks a good or even decent build-up - it's basically all tell and not show. now, if they'd actually been childhood friends to enemies to lovers/mutually co-dependent... it could have been interesting. sadly, it's not my cup of tea. of course this is just my personal preference, no hard feelings to the shippers.

misc. thoughts: enormous potential. she's been my fav female character since s1 - and ah, i miss s1!mikasa, when she had actually other stuff to do besides mothering eren. i love that she's the strongest warrior (second only to levi, obv), that her skills are never called into questions despite her gender, i love how she stands up for herself and the people she loves, that she may seem cold and stoic and yet has a such a huge heart, that she's not perfect but also sometimes awe-inspiring. sadly, she never really gets out of eren's shadow; what she lacks is an arc focused on herself. that's why imo getting deeper into the ackerman lore would've helped (also, you cannot make the main female character and the most popular male character descend from the same Unique Bloodline or whatever, and never really make them acknowledge it out loud; as a writer, you just can't lol). my spite is so strong that i'm currently writing a ridiculously pretentious fic that's 70% development for her character, to give her a voice, and 30% ackerthirsting. (yes, that's the fic i'm always vagueblogging about lmao, rip @ my brain). if any other rivamika fan is interested… mind you, it’s in italian tho, and idt i have the skills to translate into english.

misa:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

daemon: mmh, maybe some kind of butterfly? beautiful, colorful, and short-lived.

best quality: glorious fashion sense, more inventive and ingenious than fans actually give her credit for.

worst quality: shallow, impulsive, and obv her dependence on/obsession with light (which stems from trauma btw, but still… the very opposite of a relationship between equals).

ship them with: rem, kinda (monster/human ftw!). also weirdly enough mogi, a little bit? she deserves someone who actually respects her… though she’s far from being a perfect angel. she may actually be crazier than light on some aspects. but in this house we stan evil ladies anyway, so i have no problem with that <3

brotp them with: uh, idk, maybe matsuda?

needs to stay away from: obv light. also takada.

misc. thoughts: a tragic victim of sexist writing. she may be… unhinged to say the least, but she didn’t deserve the abuse she got from light (and from the fans). the female characters’ writing in dn is so bad that idk if it’s on purpose, to kinda mirror the reality of women in a patriarchal society (dependent on men, housewives whose life entirely revolves around their husband/boyfriend etc.), or just casual misogyny lol. it’s even more baffling since we don’t know the author’s gender (they may be a man, a woman, nb, anything really). i tend for the latter option tho.

aegon greyjoy (now, i wasn’t expecting him lol):

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

i’m so sorry, i haven’t the slightest idea lmao. maybe gryffindor? mind you, it’s been a long time since i’ve re-read the books, so i don’t have many thoughts about him.

daemon: maybe it’s cliché, but some kind of fish/squid lmao

best quality: ugh, i really can’t remember much from his chapters :(( he’s not a coward, i guess? (lame answer, sorry!)

worst quality: definitely his religious fanaticism.

ship them with: no one.

brotp them with: uh… his family, ig? except euron.

needs to stay away from: obv euron. brr ://

misc. thoughts: i genuinely like the greyjoys chapters, though i vastly prefer the martells (with the exception of theon and asha, bcs i love them). yes, they’re deranged. yes, victarion is… well, victarion lol. but the drowned god religion is actually interesting, grrm knows how to write trauma - every time aeron mentions euron and that freaking door i’m like… :// - and the tragedy of it all… just great writing all around.

okay, that’s the end lmao. thank you so much, love!!! ❤❤

[gwenore]

The Trollslayer. Chapter 9

Chapter 26: Strickler and Barbara finally talk about the situation and have plenty of drinks, which has never ended well for them.

Note:  I have really appreciated all the comments on this so I decided to add another chapter. I doubt I will come back to this regularly, but I might to a chapter here and there.

“So… how is drinking as a troll?” Strickler questioned as Barbara was slamming back another shot of the bourbon which they had found buried back in a cabinet.

“Makes me wonder how you got so stupidly drunk back in university,” she said as she wiped her lips. Strickler chuckled softly before he nodded his head slowly.

Strickler cocked his head slowly before he made a slow nod.

“They snuck up on me,” he said with a soft laugh in his voice. Barbara raised a brow towards him before she shook her head.

“If you say so…” she said before her head slammed into the kitchen counter that they were seated around. Despite himself, Stickler had to wince ever so slightly.

“You alright?” he had to ask. Barbara simply let out a groan.

“Horns are heavy…” she simply muttered.

“Mhm… they are indeed…” Strickler simply agreed with her as he poured himself another drink. Barbara lifted her head slightly.

“I want to fight…” she then stated with a furrowed brow.

“That is a very common troll emotion… it happens often,” he said with a soft laugh in his voice.

“Never seen you be like that…” she muttered.

“Well… I am old… and I have learned to repress that side of me. If you want to pass as a human you cannot make such outbursts. In fact… it takes a changeling long to learn how to balance their two opposing natures. It has cost many their lives,” he sipped his drink deeply.

Barbara looked at him for a long time.

“I am sorry…” she swallowed.

“That was what the Janus order was supposed to prevent to some degree. But as changelings first and foremost look after themselves… you can imagine that there is limited success with this…” he shrugged his shoulders. “Still… something that a changeling has to learn.”

Barbara ran her hand through her hair, twitching a bit at the feeling of horns under her fingers.

“I… I can see how that has been a challenge… how about Jim then… since he is part changeling…?” she had to ask.

“I do not know… but I think that boy has far greater worry about besides his bloodline,” Strickler sighed as he poured himself another drink.

“Yes… the whole trollhunter thing… I have to confess… I really do not like it, but…” Barbara’s voice faded out.

“No… it is good reason for that. At least Bular is gone, but Gunmar is always going to be a threat. There will also always be other dangers…” Strickler glanced over towards her.

Barbara swallowed, looking down rather nervously, clenching her hand.

“You could have lied to me to make me feel better,” she took another swig of her drink.

“I have done that too much already… and it ruined everything good in my life…” he let out a defeated sigh. “Suppose lies always do catch up with you in the end…”

Barbara swallowed… brushing a bit of her hair behind her horn… which was odd in itself as she sipped her drink.

“Suppose you have plenty to regret…” she whispered. Strickler let out an amused chuckle.

“Suppose so…” he murmured, but he then cocked his head. “Or… well… there is not much I actually regret believe it or not… I always just… did what I felt I had to in order to survive… what changelings do I suppose… but hurting you. Lying to you… that I do truly regret.”

Barbara swallowed, before she nodded her head.

“So… James… what are we going to do with him…?” she then asked. Strickler simply pounded back another drink, as he let out a soft hum…

“James…” he shrugged his shoulders. “I doubt nothing good is going to come of it. Hate to say it… but… he is who he has always been…”

That was everything which needed to be said really.

“I just worry what well… what if Jim finds out that I have been lying to him… I don’t think that he could handle that I have been lying to him… and… doesn’t he deserve to know that his father is back… I mean, he must have so many questions! Fuck! I have so many questions!” she growled slightly.

Strickler sighed.

“That is something you have to decide about what is best for your son… and you. I already can tell you that he left you two… and he didn’t look back. I do not know if that is something Jim needs to hear… or you need to hear from him…” Strickler then said, keeping his voice low.

Barbara swallowed.

“It just… feels so strange… that he could walk away from everything… and never once look back…” Barbara furrowed her brows. “Have you done that?”

“I have left several lives behind… what you have to do when you are as long lived as we are… we really have no other choice in the matter…” he then let out a soft sigh. “But… before… I kept my distance really. Put myself in situations where the humans might wonder what had happen to me, but only as a passing thought. I always said that, we shouldn’t get involved. Get too close…” he let out a soft chuckle. “Before you… I was good at sticking to it too. Suppose I figured that the changeling bit was so difficult to get over… but… ignored all the awful things that I did…”

“That sounds lonely…” Barbara was now leaning on her chin, feeling that her horns made it a bit too hard to keep her head up. However… she feared that if her head hit the kitchen counter it would crack the tiles with how heavy it felt.

“I suppose…” Strickler muttered. “But… I am used to it… and it is nothing more than what I deserve…”

Barbara looked at him again, narrowing her eyes, before reaching out her hand and delivering a punch directly into his arm.

“BARBARA!” Strickler exclaimed as he rubbed his arm.

“You piss me off…” Barbara grumbled.

“Well, that still hurt!” he grumbled as he moved a bit away from her.

“You just… annoy me endlessly,” she grumbled.

“From what I have heard that is not an uncommon reaction regarding me,” he muttered.

“I should do far more than just hit you,” Barbara’s stare was enough to make the changeling move slightly away.

“Again… a very troll like emotion, but I would rather you take it out on the punching bag in the basement,” not that he particularly minded a spirited fight with Barbara now that she was able too… but between trolls, friendly… or even not so friendly fighting had a… connotation which he was certain she was not intending at all.

Besides… he was not certain how happy Jim would be to find the house entirely trashed.

“Sounds boring,” Barbara grumbled as she looked at the shot glass. “Why do I want to eat this?”

“As you saw when Jim ate his phone… trolls have a… different appetite from humans. I would advise against eating it though… especially as we don’t know how long this will last-”

Strickler was interrupted by the sound of crunching glass. He could not keep from letting out a slightly exhausted sigh.

“Were you even listening?” he had to sigh.

“I… I meant to…” she simply said.

“Well, let us hope that your troll form lasts long enough for you to actually digest that!” Strickler huffed himself up a bit. “Or else you might have to go to your own hospital!”

Barbara simply stared at him. “I mean… that would be bad…”

“Lucky for you troll digestion is quite efficient, just… next time stick to things that won’t destroy your human stomach when you get it back,” he rolled his eyes.

His tone was making it very tempting to punch him again.

“I understand why Jim would get so annoyed with you, you are not the best teacher when it comes to these things!” Barbara crossed her arms.

“As I told him, this is not exactly my subject!” Strickler retorted. “Which… he really needs to learn how to control his changing… It will be a disaster waiting to happen if he doesn’t.”

“From my recollection, you weren’t that eager about changing your form either,” Barbara stated. Strickler simply shrugged.

“Suppose it was part of me who still was not ready for you to see me like that…” he then murmured.

“I never cared…”

“I know… I know…” he simply said. “It was me who… it was just…”

He was struggling to find the words.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. This is ending… I am leaving which… is for the best. But… I did love you, Barbara. For the first time in my life… I loved someone. But… I knew I didn’t deserve it… didn’t deserve any of it… so that was why I still felt the need to hide. I am better at lying with this face,” he mentioned towards his own face. “As well… it is nothing more than a lie.”

“Walt…”

“No need to say anything… I…”

Before he could say anything he was pulled practically over the kitchen counter and he felt those protruding tusks press against his lips as Barbara had dragged him into a kiss.

“Barbara…” he gasped softly. “What…?”

“I don’t care, just…” she grasped before she kissed him again, his large hands wrapping around her now stone form as she pulled him closer.

This was a mistake.

They both knew it.

And neither cared.

[furiousgoldfish]

okay I’m gonna go off about something that annoys me. What the hell is with people telling abused children to “break the loop”??

Like I get it, it means “don’t become abusive yourself, don’t abuse your kid! make the next generation better!” but .. how fucking dare you? Imply i would abuse my own kid? Assume I’m already abusive and now I need to “break the loop” like I’m automatically going to abuse my kid, but now, because you told me not to, you changed who I am and life I'm going to have? I’m sick with the assumptions that I’m no better than my parents, and also I don’t want fucking advice about how to treat my kids, I’m obviously not gonna have kids! Watching nuclear family at work makes me want to escape the fuck out of the entire family system, i’m not gonna form that shit on my own, on fucking purpose! I’m not gonna bring a child in the world where it’s likely they’ll end up struggling just to survive! Thats bullshit, i don’t want anyone else living in toxic world like this! 

And the other thing is, why the hell am i responsible for “breaking the loop” like I can change the entire fucking bloodline. Because with the abuse it’s often not just parents, it’s relatives and cousins and whole fucking shithole of abusive people, and me, I, am literally just one person who somehow came out of that hell, and I’m supposed to, make everything better? How? Am I supposed to slave my life away trying to change all that shithole of people? Even if i did it wouldn't fucking work! I can’t change entire clan of abusers, i can’t stop them to multiply, i can’t stop them from bringing more shit in the world, and don’t tell me “but you can not bring any shit in the world yourself” I’M ALREADY NOT DOING THAT, and fuck you for assuming otherwise.

Do you think children of non-toxic parents are assumed to become abusers unless convinced otherwise?  No. So it’s just us who have to deal both with abuse, and with outer world being like “oh yea yea it’s so sad you got abused but LISTEN! YOU MUST NOT BECOME ABUSIVE YOURSELF!!!” like okay thanks for the empathy i guess, so nice of you to conclude i’m automatically same as parasites who destroyed me, and you know what, if i was abusive, there’s no way in hell you could just feel free to put pressure and assumptions on me, abusive people will fuck you up if you assume anything less than perfection of them. 

Also I didn’t fucking put any of these people on this planet, i literally put no abusive people on this planet at all, so they’re not my fucking problem! I’m not responsible for what the entire clan that spawned me has been doing on this earth! it’s not on me to contain them or to ensure they don’t hurt anyone else, hell I’m their first choice of a victim! How the fuck can you laugh and then put responsibility of dealing with them on my shoulders, I was already taking on everything they threw at the world for years and years! I was already being lashed out on for every fucking time someone upset them or stressed them out or gave them any shit! I was already doing hella lot than anyone else to take on their shit! Meanwhile you just come here and tell me to “break the loop” fucking what? 

I'm not meant to be a solution to their abusiveness! I'm not put on this earth to bear their crimes, and I'm not here to put myself between abusers and rest of the world so that nobody else would get hurt - I literally cannot do that! It would take a whole village to stop abusers, for one person, who is also extremely affected by them and in danger of them - it's completely impossible. It's like telling a trapped mouse to take care of the cats so they don't get to the birds. Like what the fuck do you even want.

And also stop supporting the idea of the fucking loop, there's no loop, there's just excuses! Abuser says they're abusive because life was tough for them, and they were abused too, and they sell this shit over and over and then you people go "OOO THERE'S A LOOP" No there isn't! They're just making excuses and diverting your attention as usual! Every single act of abuse is an individual choice! The culture of abuse and history of watching how other people got away with it will make this choice way easier, but in the end it's still a fucking choice! There was no loop over their head telling them "Bob, you have to be abusive, you have to hurt your kid, it's only right" THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN! BOB JUST FELT LIKE LASHING OUT AT THE KID AND and his brain immediately informed him he would 100% get away with it if he only blames the loop and plays a tragic victim later if necessary! Stop buying into this bullshit!

Saying break the loop is the feel-good lazy way to turn on victims and put responsibility for fucking everything, once again, on their shoulders, you go and break the fucking loop if you can, only there's no loop, there's bunch of abusive sociopaths who will suck your blood dry, and don't forget to take responsibility for everything they do, after all it's all your fault if you can't take control of bunch of older, more powerful, insane sadistic psychopaths who would kill you for fun anytime.

[dvlwthn]

“  i’m  tired –-  ”                .... of what?      “  of surviving and not living.  ”

Is that MADISON BAILEY? No, that’s just ALEXIS RYAN KING. They were born on 29/01/99 and are in their THIRD year at Northknot University. They live in Northknot because they are a WEREWOLF from Kaleb’s bloodline (Moon Valley Pack Beta). Some they're COMPASSIONATE and AMBITIOUS, but I’ve heard others say they’re SHORT TEMPERED and SKEPTICAL. When you think of her, don’t you think of A FREE SPIRIT WHO’S ALWAYS LOOKING FOR THE NEXT ADVENTURE, THE SOUND OF THUNDER BEING HEARD FOLLOWED BY STRIKES OF LIGHTNING, HEART OF GOLD THAT WEIGHS HEAVY ? 

A E S T H E T I C

dark  scars  on  the  heart  .  thunderstorms  ;  wild  and  chaotic  .  broken  girl  ,  fearless  woman  .  stubborn  heart  .  fire  in  her  eyes  ,  darkness  in  her  soul  .  not  afraid  to  get  her  hands  dirty  .  just  survive  somehow  .  heavy  heart  ,  dark  past  .

Q U O T E S

“  some days i am the flower, some days i am the rain  .   ”   –   pavana. 

“   she is both hellfire and holy water. and the flavour you taste depends on how you treat her  .   ”   –   sneha pal.

“   i wasn’t born soft and quiet. i was born to make the world shatter and shake at my fingertips   .   ”   –   unknown.

M U S I C    P L A Y E R

“   you keep things bottled up inside–- i wish you'd give someone a try. you fell apart a million times.   ”   happy face by tate mcrae. 

“   listen closely ‘cause no one told me, but you deserve to know: that in this world, you are not beholden. you do not owe them your body and your soul.   ”   fall in line by christina aguilera. 

“   i can bleed, i can hurt. knock me down in the dirt. i am strong i’ll show you even when i’m black and blue: i’m bulletproof.   ”   bulletproof by dimante.

“  keep me from the cages, under the control.. running in the dark to find east of eden.  ”  east of eden by zella day

P E R S O N A L I T Y  

+ intelligent, protective, and observant - stubborn, distant, and ‘apathetic’

there is a lot that goes into making alexis who she is. from who her family was, to the trauma she experienced, even to her pack. a little bit of everything lives on in her... alexis ryan king is a bit of a conundrum to be honest. she’s protective yet distant. after losing her family, she doesn’t want to feel that loss again. so she tries to keep her distance, the less people around her, the less people she can hurt over is something happens... but she can’t always help how close she gets and to those that manage to become close to her, she very protective over because, again, she doesn’t want to lose them. the young woman TRIES to be apathetic, hopes that if she can act like she doesn’t care long enough she just won’t... it’s hard not to try to fin way to protect yourself (physically and emotionally). so she tries to focus on school or work. just to keep her mind busy.. but she can’t JUST survive anymore. she wants to live her life... live the life her father made sure she could... she has to do it for him, for all of them. 

H E A D C A N O N S

001. alexis was born to into a family of wolves, she had two older brother and two younger brothers. both of her parents were very in touch with their wolf side, which made alexis and her siblings feel very much the same. they all loved what they were, even if at times they seemed to lose control... the king pack was very in touch with nature and life, so after each kill they had a little goodbye prayer for. tibi gratias ago pro tui sacrificium tuum pugnet ( thank you for your sacrifice, your fight is over ). no kill was taken advantage of or forgotten. the family paid respects to every living thing they killed (human or animal). alexis was never sure if it was their way of honouring kaleb or just the way her parent were. 

002. while most supernatural creatures had started to live in harmony and even had a special location for supernatural only to live, the king family never felt the need to move there. though it was always the plan if things went bad. it was something they talked about since she was a young pup. she never actually thought the time would come.... she especially never thought that she’d have to make the trip solo.

003. a couple of years ago her family was attacked. she had no clue why or what happened, she just remembers that after her and her youngest brother got home from running through the forrest behind their house, she wanted to nap on the floor in the living room. she was asleep when the screaming started but she heard it and started to wake up. by the time she was half awake and trying to process everything, her eldest brother was kneeling next to her and shaking her shoulders. the young girl would never forget the look on his face. wasting no time, the only female child in the king family was up and trying to collect her two younger brothers. “ it’s time to leave. ” her father had told her when he had passed her briefly... but it seemed whomever wanted them dead wasn’t going to allow that. there was fire everywhere, she couldn’t inhale without breathing in smoke. she never understood how it spread so fast. when she found her two younger brothers she remembers instantly falling to her knees and reaching out to try to hold them. their lifeless mangled bodies lay side by side and she couldn’t see past the tears anymore. it was than that her father found her, she could see he was injured and just that look in his eyes... she KNEW no one else survived. her father was yanking on her arm, pulling her away from the scene. he was speaking to her but she couldn’t hear him. it wasn’t till they reach the back of the house that they stopped and her father placed his hands on her shoulders, looked her right in the eye and spoke “ just survive, somehow. ” kissed her forehead and gave her a look that said it all. goodbye. i love you. i’ll hold them off. please survive. i’m sorry. she wanted to scream, scream that he could come with her, or that she’d stay and fight with him... or even die with him. he entire family fell, why did she get to live? but the look he sent her before turning to face the shadows of whoever killed her family told her everything. someone needed to survive this. SHE needed to survive this. so she did.

004. she took her time getting to northknot. it was the plan so she knew where she needed to go, but she was never prepared to make the journey alone. her mind just wasn’t in it. her heart wasn’t in surviving, she wanted to be with her family. but as weak as she felt, she knew she had to keep fighting. her heart and soul were broken, she really didn’t think that anyone or anything at northknot would make it better. but upon arriving she met this older woman... another wolf, and when the lady met her gaze alexis just felt like she could read her like an open book. hated it but also welcomed it at the same time. the lady took her in, helped her settle before introducing her to an alpha.. they all seemed patient with her. and eventually as time went on, the moon valley pack reminded her of her family... and while she felt like an outsider for awhile, they ended up becoming like a second family. it never truly fixed her, but it did make things easier.

005. NOW: she still lived with the woman who took her in and has been going to school at the university. bonds have been formed and while she will always miss her family and sometimes dazes off to think of them, she’s started living her life again. she’s happy here, or at least as happy as one can be after everything she went through. 

C O N N E C T I O N S

best friend. could be anyone, pack member or not, but just someone she bonded really well with. someone she can confide in. 

ex. it definitely took her awhile to come out of her shell to even think about dating but this person was her first real relationship since arriving to northknot. relationships like this aren’t always meant to last, so it really came as no surprise that they ended... (if you are willing to play her ex, we can talk about how exactly they ended)

friends. friends from school, work (i picture her working at a coffee shop or bookstore to help her with school), pack members, etc. anything and everything.

dislike. maybe a member from a different pack? or maybe even someone from her own pack and they didn’t trust her when she first arrived? idk. we could do anything with this. but it’d be fun.

[kzbrandt]

The Shadow

The Shadow

    It will come for us all at one point or another, rejection, doubt, failure… The Darkness is here. This virus is only the beginning, she has many faces. Plague, Influenza, Covid-19, starvation, corruption and so on. She is the faceless, the nameless lurking everywhere and no where, she gave birth to night, leaving only one light to reign under the day.

    The twelve have Gathered, but a Reckoning warms the horizon, a smothering, burning yearning… If you close your eyes and listen for the wind, you can hear the sound of destiny breaking decades of silence. Now, when your eyes peel back the blindness, the long lost mother Earthenia is salivating in divine femininity. Ascending from dirt and sand, the first beasts prowled, still drawing breath in the obscurity of the wild. The shadow has descended and it is but a finger of what lies ahead.

    I think back to simpler times, back at the drafting table, where life began at the mere stroke of my hand. Few know my name and even fewer conscious of its existence, but still, there is one who will come to gain such a power. A true mystery is a rare gift, especially when one knows almost everything. Even as curious as my aching mind grows, I worry for all of you, my creations. How will you fair in such perilous waters?

As the Creator, I am responsible for a great many things. Contrary to popular belief, many divines are not without imperfection. The most pristine landscape is riddled with flaws. Human or god-gifted in the end we rise the same. To rise a mountain, first we must meet the flood.

    I remember every seed I’ve ever grown, teaching this skill to only one other, there is no greater joy than cultivating life. Some I plant, others I mold with clay from the Vale. Murky and Earthen in color, it glows with a bright, white light, powered by the Ancients essence, springing life eternal. Each bloodline has strength, big or small, the past can never be forgotten.

    Of all my memories, the most unforgettable was the maiden queen. Monarch butterflies flock to their beautiful mother, as did I. Alas, a fatal mistake I would come to mourn for centuries. There was a time long ago, when as a young boy was unrestrained and unrefined. I loved and lusted for artistry, power and creation. I got swept away by the pleasure and trivial aspirations. I forgot who I was meant to be.

    In doing so, a small shadow was unleashed from he Abyss, a dominion of emptiness and horror, a universe of nightmares. It only took one time, one mistake, and I opened the door across the realms and invited a single spore of Darkness and she grew.

    After pulling back each grisly layer, I was surprised to find a woman, comely in nature. Cloaked in mystique, she still remained nameless.  How could she elude me so easily? If I recall correctly, she spoke only once.

    “I must find my sister,” and like a vacuum in outer space, all of her opaque shrouds were suctioned back. A sister, a twin? This thought has burdened me for eons. Soon to be a lifelong obsession, I had to know as Creator, what I brought into this verse. If there were answers I needed to find them.

    Falling back to where it all began, I found myself on the Isle of Ness, where there are no beginnings or endings, the story here is ever-flowing. You may have heard of it, many in the past called it Eden. A great crime was committed forcing the retreat of all mortals, but more on that another time. This is the residence of the remaining Elders, the ones who managed to cling to immortality. This floating island could not be seen by human eyes or felt with such fragile hands, it was an impossibility. It is a realm within a world, location of the first sin and lost things.

   Whenever the script gets too cluttered and chaotic, I like to start new and wet my quill with fresh ink. There were thoughts that needed to be satisfied. For starters, what was the Darkness? I deduced that it wasn’t pure malevolence, there was something more. Whoever she may be, a tragic, scarred tale was waiting to unfold.

    Humanity was consummated with greed, selfishness, survivalism and corruption. But, there was also love, compassion, selflessness and a humor that kept you going, even in the darkest of times. As an older man now, I can look back and see the true gift in mortality is the brittleness of it all. In one second everything you hold dear could vanish, this makes life that much more precious. How can one really appreciate this if they’ve never had a shelf-life or expiration date? If death never comes knocking, do we even glance at the door?

   With the modern age comes many magnificent wonders, but it lacks the true knowledge of how things really began. The first beings go by many names, and they are the cosmic designers you’ll never see. The old ways can be both worshiped and abhorred. There was a time when things were very different, well before the age of Síandra. I wish I could tell you what happened, but this is  yet another fabric of history ripped away. For thousands of years, I did nothing but search and study all the way from Taboo to the Abyss. Once the Isle of Ness went missing, things became significantly more complicated.

   It’s a gamble for sure, risking it all to have faith in one unique soul. The Golden one, the key, a wick to light up the dark, if she can learn my name maybe all creation can be saved. To see my children full of such corruption and e useless is a fate worse than death. I am a father first. There was only one other place that might ail my torment.

    The great tree of knowledge, Ymir, husband to Ymira and virility of all barken-folk, was my answer. Constructed from my hand, he was a painting that filled me with such joy. The ingredients were tricky, blood, oak, willow, half of Ymira’s heart, and saliva from my own mouth. A wonder for the ages still written about today. Bonded by blood and bone, out tether couldn't be severed. His story I knew too well.  

    Seeing Ymir was dangerous and a near impossible journey to any who sought the truth. Down the rabbit hold under Lycanthrope Dr. lies a doorway. An old portal leading to the Vale. A land seldom traveled, even rarer still was for anyone to return. Nothing was solid in the realm of spirits, a path you started on may change or cease to be. The Vale will claim us all one day, ever-thirsting , always desiring another soul, mine included. If ever I should fall, my immaculate energy would swim ashore and embrace the afterlife, drinking Valean tree wine with my kin, Ymir. How we would rejoice deep in irrevocable peace.

    Of course, if this ever happened the universe would be thrown too far, unlikely to recover. Apocalypse would rise up, ready to maim and ensnare. What happens to the body once the heart stops beating? The feelings of all flow inside, the suffering and turmoil as well as happiness and determination. Blood pouring from too many, some wielding the knife on themselves. How can I judge them, when I think of it also? So much responsibility, an entire universe weighing down on my shoulders. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. How can I ever discard it when so many continue to cry out?

    I will never give up on mankind, though we wear many faces, we are the same. Put down the hatred and open your eyes. For what comes will destroy everything, unless you care enough to change it. Until we meet again…

            Sincerely, your Creator.

A note from KZ: Like what you see check out my short film of the shadow on my you tube channel (

https://youtu.be/9NVLCajZ3vM

) , maybe go a step further and find The Gathering on Amazon under KZBrandt. Thanks for visiting!

ᔓKZBrandtᔕ

[dalekofchaos]

Poe Dameron did nothing wrong

Hot take and total offense. Poe did the right thing in destroying The Dreadnought

While he lost a lot of lives, Poe was right in trying to bring down that Dreadnought. Poe’s reasoning for this run is that the Dreadnought is a “Fleet-killer”, and taking it out now could save hundreds, if not thousands of lives down the line. Yes, they lose all of their bombers and some of their fighters. Maybe 50-60 soldiers. However, the run is successful. The Dreadnought, which we see obliterate the surface of a planet with a single shot, is destroyed. 

Poe was revealed to be completely justified with the attack at the beginning, that destroyer was the only First Order ship with orbital bombardment cannons that have longer range, punch through the toughest shields and shred the biggest ships. If he didn’t do that, it would’ve followed them through hyperspace and destroyed the Raddus pretty quickly.

Poe didn’t disobey an order, he had convinced Leia of the plan. She was always in command, the call was always hers, and she decided to go through with it. However, when the consequences of the run are made apparent, she blames Poe instead of taking responsibility for her own call.

The Resistance drops out of hyperspace and is followed by the First Order. Poe’s concerns are entirely vindicated, and I think it’s hard to deny that the following engagement would have gone far, far worse for the rebels had the Dreadnought still been in play. Even assuming they survived that, what were they going to do once they got down to the salt planet? We saw this thing kill a planet earlier in the film.  

If The First Order was lead by competent leaders, that Dreadnought would have fired the orbital cannon on The Raddus and by destroying The Resistance and their fighters could’ve easily picked off their transports one by one. And guess what, if The First Order did have another Dreadnought on stand by, then they would have destroyed The Resistance on Crait. Poe Dameron single-handedly saved The Resistance. He should be commended and praised, not demoted and demonized. Leia slaps him, yet if Poe followed her orders they all would have died. Holdo keeps Poe in the dark despite Poe being her second in command and having the respect of the entire Resistance. Leia sanctioned the mission and did not see the bigger picture. Holdo kept the entire Resistance in the dark and they have the audacity to lecture Poe.

Poe did nothing wrong. Holdo didn’t just keep Poe in the dark, she kept the ENTIRE RESISTANCE in the dark. Holdo did more damage to The Resistance than the actual people trying to kill them

The only reason the rebels ultimately survive is because of this bombing run. This is never acknowledged, however, and Vice Admiral Holdo takes command and proceeds to dress Poe down just for asking for his orders and the plan. Keep in mind that Poe isn’t just some grunt. Even with his demotion, he’s your second or third in command, and he has the respect of the entire crew(Poe is the one who destroyed Starkiller Base yet that’s ignored), as evidenced by his later leading a majority of the crew in mutiny against Holdo.

Finn and Rose come up with a plan to stop the Hyperspace Tracking. He knows The Supremacy will continue to track the Raddus no matter what,  at this point Poe doesn’t really see any other alternative besides just possibly letting everybody die at the hands of an incompetent commander. It’s the only plan he’s been given, so he goes for it.

Holdo brought her personal crew from her ship and worked with them while snubbing the main rebel crew entirely. That’s a bit of a dick move, protocol or not. Continuing on Holdo.  In Bloodline, Holdo doesn’t stand up for Leia when Leia presents evidence that the First Order is a real threat. Why would Holdo have a ranking position in the Resistance when she didn’t think there was a need for it?

Connix assisted in Poe’s mutiny and she is  the “ultimate authority” on carrying out a retreat. Why was she not told about the plan? Her position and placement on the bridge next to Holdo is pretty “need to know”.

One of the biggest issues was not that Holdo wasn’t telling Poe the plan, but it was acting as if there was really no other plan. She was literally taking personal jabs at him when he was trying to find something out. If she said something like. “While it seems bad , we are working on a plan right now. We are not just going to stay here and have everyone die. Just have your pilots ready to go at a moment’s notice” But she didn’t even give him that. Remember up until Poe taking over, they were watching ship after ship being picked off slowly. The crew was given nothing and was told just to trust her. Blind faith in leadership is a horrible message. If that is the take away then why not just do what the First Order or the Empire wants. I mean seemingly they are in charge of stuff now. And we should follow orders blindly. Moreover they were down to < 1000 people, and from the POV of everyone else she was just watching people die. Rank be jammed. Anyone who cared about their crew would do something. He was a Commander and the flight commander there is NO way he should have been left out in the cold. Then Holdo has the nerve to say “he’s a trouble maker, I like him” while stroking his unconscious body.....THIS ALL COULD’VE BEEN AVOIDED WITH SIMPLE COMMUNICATION SKILLS 

When Poe finally mutinies with a large portion of the crew, Leia stuns him and it’s revealed that the plan was to empty their fuel reserves and send the escape pods to a nearby salt planet. However, when the plan goes into action, Finn and Rose’s contact betrays them and tells the First Order about the escape pods. This results in many of the escape pods being destroyed.This is played up to be Poe’s failure, but I disagree immensely. It’s Holdo’s failure.She had literally no reason not to tell anyone the plan. Poe, while his plan ultimately failed, had no reason to believe that Holdo wasn’t going to get them all killed. Nor did the crew. She’d given neither of them any indication that she was a competent commander, or that she had anything resembling a plan. In the face of that, Poe had the choice of either possibly letting everyone die, or trying something that, while it probably wouldn’t work, might just save the lives of everyone on that ship. In the context of the situation, I think Poe absolutely made the right choice, and any blame for what happened falls firmly on Holdo’s shoulders for being an incompetent leader who never inspired her crew or gave them any reason to believe in her, and yet expected them all to trust her with their lives and just believe that she was making the right decisions.

Holdo’s plan was stupid. Based on the First Order not having any WINDOWS. And based on being unwilling to admit she HAD no plan, and WAS in fact just trying to bail everyone out and see how many, if any, survived. She didn’t ram the Supremacy until almost every escape pod had been destroyed. HOLDO caused the deaths of far, far more Resistance personnel and soldiers than Poe ever did. HOLDO let her vanity and vainglory get in the way of effective leadership – if the people ON THE BRIDGE, FUELING YOUR TRANSPORTS, are helping to organize a mutiny against you because your plan is bad and going to get them killed, that’s a bad plan.  Holdo’s entire action was based on wanting Leia to be proud of her, and not Poe, honestly. And granted: that’s a perspective we know that Poe can have, too, but what Poe wants more than anything else is to make sure the Resistance survives and the First Order is brought down without a chance of restarting the way the Empire did. Holdo mainly seems to want to be in charge and restart the New Republic that failed to stop the Empire’s roots to grow into the First Order in the first place, and she was unwilling to ACT against the First Order until what, twelve Rebels were left?  She could have saved all of those unarmed, unshielded escape pods if she’d rammed the Supremacy as soon as the last pod detached from the cruiser. But she didn’t, because she never planned to take any actual actions to stop the First Order. Holdo’s idea of resistance was so passive, so laissez-faire, that she might as well have been a First Order mole for all the good she did. The difference between “the fire that will restore the Republic” and “the fire that will burn the First Order down” is immeasurable. Holdo – quintessentially in a White Feminist move – wanted to “rebel” only as far as it restored her own place of power in the Galaxy as a Senator in the broken New Republic that ignored the growing threat of fascism until the NR itself was destroyed. (This New Republic she wants to restore being the same one that allowed slavery to flourish “in secret” across the Galaxy, allowed for poverty like that on Jakku, allowed for the immoral disparity of wealth and power on Cantonica). In the novel Leia Princess Of Alderaan, Holdo’s “rebellion” doesn’t actually exist – she cares about people, specifically her own friends and the people for whom she is the Junior Senator, on Gatalenta. Holdo doesn’t really care about the good of the Galaxy. She cares about herself. Poe doesn’t care about restoring the New Republic. The New Republic is who looked him in the face and said that deaths caused by the First Order didn’t matter – or didn’t exist. They were corrupt and complacent, and they refused to acknowledge that the ideals of the Empire had not actually died down. Their treatment of poor, disenfranchised Systems – those whom the Empire had most exploited, in some cases – caused those same Imperial ideals to take root again and blossom as an open secret. They allowed for the Centrists’ (literal) xenophobia to be communicated like a legitimate viewpoint, keeping some Imperial POVs mainstream when they could have been condemned. The New Republic did not deserve to be destroyed with Starkiller Base, but it also didn’t do enough good to warrant being restored as it was. Poe cares about ending the First Order. Holdo doesn’t. If Holdo doesn’t care about preventing the tyranny of the First Order, then what exactly is she resisting…? Poe Dameron did absolutely nothing wrong in this movie, and he’s by far the most competent commander the rebels have at the moment.

[ours-is-feral-love]

Summary - A witch with a vendetta learns Klaus’s biggest secret, and Klaus must break his promise to Caroline Forbes to keep her safe. 

A/N: I haven’t touched these guys in a while, so excuse any screw ups. Very AU story, post 5x11 - like, really post - but also I’m basically ignoring everything that happened after 5x11. Such as Caroline’s babies, Stefan, and so on and so forth. 

Enjoy.

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In Death I See Only You

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The witch has his heart. She has his heart clenched in her bony fist, and she is unafraid. Her hand has gone through his chest, pushed past his ribcage, and is clutching his bloody, undead heart, and she is smiling. A wicked sort of smile that displays the evil beneath her young face. The evil, she claims, that was placed within her by him.

Klaus’s legs buckle. His face contorts in confusion—how has this girl managed to overpower him?—and he staggers back, bringing the raven-haired witch with him. Her fingers bare down and her nostrils billow out as he opens his mouth, gagging on pain. With a gentle push, the witch has him on his knees before her. Her short stature means she does not have to distort her own body to accommodate this shift. She stands above him now, his head level with her collarbone.

He is entirely at her mercy.

Niklaus Mikaelson, the fiercest, most depraved creature to walk the earth is bowing at the feet of a teenaged witch.

Anger writhes away inside of the Original vampire. This is impossible. This is not right. He is more than a millennium old. He has fought demons about which this girl has only read. He has laughed in Death’s face. He has survived so much. What power has this girl been granted? What gives her the strength, the right, to look down upon him?

“Do you know why I’m here?” the girl asks. He doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t want to. But she won’t let him go silently. She places a gentle pressure on his cold, dead heart, her lips quivering with the power coursing through her, and says again, “Do you know why I’m here?”

Klaus stares at the dirt by the witch’s feet. “Yes,” he growls.

“Look at me when you speak!” she demands, squeezing hard. His heart feels as if it will burst. Yelping like the dog he is, Klaus’s head snaps up. He glares at the girl, his breathing staggered. Blood pours out of his mouth. Runs down his chin. His canines drop and dig into his bottom lip. Her mouth twitches in satisfaction. “You remember me, then,” she says.

“Yes,” Klaus says, spraying red.

“Good. Now the real fun can begin.”

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He should not be have been there. There—out in the open. From where he stood, leaning against the large tree by the playground, moments before she found him like she promised she would when she was only five years old, he could see a mother pushing her little girl in a swing. And that was probably when she decided to corner him. When she decided he was vulnerable enough, weak enough, to be taken. Because no matter how badly he wished for that child to simply disappear from Hayley’s womb, the moment she was brought into the world Klaus awoke to a love unlike any he had experienced before. It was a primal sort of love. There was nothing he could do about it. The preservation of his bloodline had always been the most important thing, and then there was something new carrying his history, and he knew he would do anything in his power to stop her from leaving him.

But all good things must come to an end. While he was busy doing all he could to protect the girl, the rest of the world was thinking of ways to destroy her. An ancient coven, having heard of the impossibility of her existence, awoke from a millennia-old slumber in order to find her, fearful of the power brewing inside his infant child. Klaus heard of their emergence. An instant chill settled in his evaporated soul. A sickness spread through him, and he worked to hide her from their plan. Using all of his influence, every member of his family, his attempt lasted little more than a month before they found her.

Their anachronistic spells quickly tore through every barricade. The long, sharp sliver of white oak their leader carried with her helped aid their destruction of his family until he and the small child were the only ones left. And soon, all that remained was him. But even the most powerful coven in existence is no match for a vengeful father. This woman, her magic having cloaked them from the world and turned day into twilight, is all that remains of that group of witches after Klaus ripped all of their heads from their shoulders.

“I’ve been following you for a long time, Niklaus,” she says, and he can feel the poisonous wrath pulsing against her fingertips as she holds his heart. Night falls fast under the witch’s spell, and soon there is hardly any light in their bubble. “Watching you. Studying your movements, your strength. I’ve bided my time, and now look at us. Once, you made me afraid, but I was only a girl then. Are you ready to fear me?”

The truth is, Klaus already fears her. But he isn’t stupid or weak enough admit that. He has sensed her throughout the years. Each move he has made has been a calculated step away from her. But today, at the playground, he lost himself in memories of his dead child, and she took advantage of his sudden dip into humanity. He can hardly blame her.

And if he is being truly, truly honest, he has been waiting for this. Yearning for this. God, he is so tired.

With her free hand, the witch reaches inside her back pocket and pulls out a folded cloth. “You know what this is,” she tells him, because there is nothing else it could be. White oak. He can sense its desire to puncture his heart. “But I won’t use it yet. I want to have some fun with you first.”

Still with her fingers wrapped around his blackened heart, she returns the splinter to its holding place and touches his forehead. She digs her nails into his flesh and scrapes his temple slowly. Blood trickles down his cheek. Pressing her index finger against his open wound, sending a shockwave of pain down his spine, her eyes roll back and before he can struggle against her interference, she enters his mind.

Memories course through his mind, clashing against one another in a great battle for dominance. The memories are filled with people. Enemies. Friends. Family.

Lovers.

He sees his brothers, sisters. His parents. His mind reawakens to the childlike fear his father instilled within him. He remembers the love of his mother. Their betrayal.

He sees his child in the arms of the woman who birthed her. The memories flash forward, and he sees only blood. The witch has taken them to the day her coven took his family from him. Klaus feels himself crying out in pain. His throat aches, but he cannot hear his own screams. Silently, he watches every person he has ever loved be ripped to shreds.

Then, the images stop, as if the witch has paused them. In the distance, Klaus sees a blond curl. A flash of blue.

“You like horses,” he hears himself say. He watches her follow him with unamused eyes, an exhausted sort of smile flickering on her mouth.

“I’m not talking to you until you tell me why you invited me here,” she says, and even in the haze of an old memory he feels that throbbing ache in his dead heart.

“I fancy you,” he confesses blatantly. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes.” There is shock in her voice. He hears that now. He didn’t back when the word was first spoken.

In a flash of light, the picture in his head moves, and she is there again, only this time she is wearing a dress that rides up her thighs with each frustrated step she takes. They skip forward a moment, and he is standing in front of her, speaking of hummingbirds.

Then, he is grabbing her by the hair and sinking his teeth into her neck. He can still taste her blood, feel it quench his centuries’-old thirst. Then, she is lying before him, and he is stubbornly refusing to save her.

“I know that you’re in love with me,” she says weakly. His chest burns as if she has pierced him with a stake. “And anybody capable of love is capable of being saved.”

He remembers exactly what he says next without needing to hear himself say it.

“You’re hallucinating,” he says, because she has found him out, and it frustrates him. It kills him. He can’t even look at her.

“I guess I’ll never know,” she whimpers, and his body goes still, and he looks at her with fear burning his eyes. He says her name. Once. Twice. No response, so he goes to her, lifting her head, and forces her teeth into his wrist.

The satisfaction of her feeding on him is indescribable. It’s like sinking into a warm ocean with no fear of dying.

The memories buzz forward, but come to a halt as the image of her in a red graduation gown bursts to life. She’s smiling at him. She never had smiled at him like this before. Like she forgives him. Or, at the very least, is starting to forgive him. And even with his heart in the hands of a fellow monster, a warmth spreads through Klaus as he looks at this phantom.

“Tyler is free to return to Mystic Falls.”

“What?”

“He is your first love,” he says, his lips tingling, warning him to stay silent. There is danger afoot. Always. And if he speaks these next few words, if he confesses to her, then she will never again be safe. He is assuring her doom. But he can’t help himself. He really can’t. So, he says it. “I intend to be your last, however long it takes.”

His lips burn as he presses them to her cheek, and as he pulls away, the image of Caroline Forbes splinters until she is no longer standing before him. In her place is the witch, whose face has contorted in hesitation. Confusion.

“You loved her,” she says, her eyes still glazed over. Terrible fear bursts inside of Klaus. “You still love her, I can feel it.”

“Please,” Klaus says, the word tasting of blood.

“How is this possible? You have never cared for anyone outside of your family for so long.”

He says it again. Debases himself again. “Please.”

The witch’s eyes snap back into focus. She stares at him, dropping her hand from his head, her pupils the size of pinpricks. “You’re just as human as the rest of us, aren’t you? The great Niklaus Mikaelson falling in love with a baby vampire. How pathetic. Maybe I should pay this girl—Caroline, yes?—a visit. After I’ve finished you off, of course.”

“No,” Klaus shrieks, though it comes out as a muffled groan. The witch has tightened her hold on his heart.

“There’s nothing you can do to stop me, Niklaus,” the witch taunts. She retrieves the white oak. “Nothing at all.”

But she is wrong. Klaus fell in love, and that love, the love that still courses through his blood, is not a weakness. For so long, he thought it could only be the source of his downfall. Of both of their downfalls. It’s why he made that promise to her in the woods. Why he has kept away from her for all of these years. But Caroline Forbes is in his mind again, and she is lifting his right arm, encircling his hand around the witch’s wrist, tightening his fingers so hard that a snap resonates from the bones in the witch’s forearm.

The witch screams in pain. Her fingers go limp around his heart, and in one pull he is free. Gasping, bleeding, Klaus scrambles to his feet. He wants to attack the witch. He lunges for her, but she disappears before he can get his hands around her neck. He grabs at air, staggering forward. Light returns to his surroundings. The families in the park eye him worriedly, but he pays no attention to their intrusive stares. There is nothing left of the witch. She has gone to search for her.

He must go too. Find her before the witch. Run away with her, like he should have done ages ago.

Klaus knows where she is. He always knows. In a flash, he is gone.

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Rain splashes over his head, whipping him as a wind carries it forcefully into his face. He knocks again on the door. If it doesn’t open in five seconds, he will rip it off of its hinges.

The witch’s attack has worn him down. He feels sluggish. His chest smarts with each movement. He may be the most powerful being on earth, but having his heart toyed with like that has reminded him of the witch’s words. You’re just as human as the rest of the us.

Gearing up to burst through the wooden structure, Klaus stops short when his ears pick up on creeping footsteps. He recognises her footfalls, and suddenly there is an altogether new type of pain running through him. An anxiety. A trepidation. The door unlocks. Opens only an inch. Where he is standing, he can see through the slight crack. Her blue eyes pierce through the rain and sear a hole into his already open chest.

She gasps. The door falls open. “What the hell are you”— She doesn’t finish her question. Her eyes land on the fabric of his white t-shirt running pink with blood. “What happened?”

He is about to speak. About to explain. To beg. He takes one step forward, but a coldness seeps into his bones and he falls to his knees. His hands slam into the ground. He hears Caroline gasp again before a blackness consumes him.

.

Someone is stroking his hair. Running their fingers along his scalp and threading through his curls. He relaxes into the touch, which he knows he should not do. He should get up. He needed to tell someone something.

“Hey,” a voice says, right next to his ear.

Klaus opens his eyes slowly. Caroline Forbes tilts her head to the side. What alternate universe has he entered?

Then, it hits him. The witch.

Klaus sits up suddenly, realising momentarily that he must be in her bedroom. On her bed. Caroline’s hand falls from his head and she jumps to her feet.

“What?” she asks, a quiver in her voice.

He can imagine, just imagine it so well, how she has been living her life the past few years. Small town in Washington state. No lurking evil vampires. No werewolves. No magic of any kind. Working as a journalism teacher at the local high school. Pretending not to miss the menacing thrills that greeted her every day during her time as an infant vampire.

All that is about to change. There can be no more playing make-believe now.

“A witch,” Klaus sputters. “I killed her coven and she tried to get her revenge. She almost did, but I managed to get away, but not before she found you.”

Caroline’s eyes blossom. “Found me? Found me where?” She makes no mention of the fact that he wiped this girl’s coven from existence.

Klaus touches his temple. Then, he pats his chest, and it is here that he realises she has stripped him of his shirt. His wound has healed nicely. How long has he been unconscious? “She knows of our connection,” he says. “I have to get you out of here.”

“Out of here? What, so she’s hunting me down, preparing to kill me,” Caroline says mockingly. “I don’t attract that kind of stuff anymore. And if you leave me, like you promised you’d do for, like, eternity, I’m sure she won’t be able to find me. Bonnie lives nearby. I’ll call her and get her to cast a cloaking spell or something.”

“That won’t bloody work,” Klaus says, recognising the tang of metal still sitting on his teeth. “She is more powerful than you can imagine. She nearly killed me without using any sort of spell. Imagine what she could do to you.”

There it is. A small jerk of her eyes. A twitch. Caroline is afraid. “Yeah, but, what’s the point in killing me?” she asks. She has always done this so well. Pretended as if she has everything under her control. “I mean, what am I to her? I’m a nobody.” She laughs nervously. She has lost her touch after so long out of the supernatural spotlight. He doesn’t even need to be paying attention to pick up on her unease.

“You’re all I’ve got left,” he says, staring past her at the photograph of her and her group of meddling friends at their graduation. The room is spacious. Tidy. He remembers something about her love of cleaning.

“Klaus,” she says with a sigh, and hearing his name fall from her lips is almost enough to bring him to his knees once more. “That was a long time ago. Haven’t you moved on yet?”

“Have you?” he says, and she turns to see where his eyes have landed. Beside the window looking out onto the stormy, dark street hangs the picture he drew of her. The sight of it makes him ache for a time long since passed. He looks back at Caroline to find that she’s avoiding his eye line. “Run away with me,” he says, and he reaches out for her hand. It hangs limply at her side and she makes no effort to pull away.

“If I don’t,” she says, “the witch will kill me.”

“Yes.”

“And if I do . . .” she trails off, finally catching his eye. He has missed her. So much. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he parrots, unsure if he heard her correctly.

She nods. “I’ll go with you. You’re afraid, and if you’re afraid, then I’m absolutely fucking terrified.”

“You trust me?”

“I trust you.” She laughs, squeezing his hand. “Oh my, God, I can’t believe I just said that.”

And he laughs too, and it feels good, and he thinks maybe the time and the distance has been good for them. Enough to wipe away the toxic air of their past.

She’s missed the dangerous side of being a vampire. He can tell, because even though he has told her all about this coven’s history, their supremacy over the magical world, she is giddy as she packs a bag full of essentials. She has the workings of a small smile as she phones her boss to say she’s had an emergency and must leave town for an indefinite amount of time.

“Where do we go from here?” she asks when she’s done, and he thinks that, maybe, she has missed him too.

“Somewhere she’ll never find us,” he says. “Somewhere we’ll be safe until we can think of a way to kill her.”

Caroline finishes tying her hair into a bun and picks up her bag. She stands at the doorway in her bedroom, far away from Mystic Falls, but no longer far away from him. “Lead the way.”