#hello yes I’m indeed 24 years late

[measurelessdreamer]

One of these scogan Post-X-Men: Days of the Future Past fics where Logan changes things so everyone from the original timeline is alive and he’s back at the school and about to find out somehow that he and Scott are a thing in this new timeline, but first, after Logan is done explaining himself to Charles, Scott is charged with showing him the way to his room and they talk sort of but not really and all of a sudden they both hear a very happy “Dad!” screamed through the hallway and they both turn and there is a little girl of age four (or more), smiling and running towards them and Logan doesn’t get it because he hasn’t seen her before and he had no idea a child so young could even be at this school and someone here is her father but who? Cyke himself? And he’s about tu turn to see if someone else is standing behind them when all of a sudden the girl slams herself against his legs with such force that it wavers his stance for a moment and surely she hurt herself just now because there is adamantium on his skeleton and there isn’t any on hers and she is only a child after all but then he looks at her and not only is she completely okay, she is also staring at him and she is smiling and as much as it doesn’t make sense, it slowly dawns on him and just as he is about to accept it, the girl lets him go and then hugs Scott, more gently but with no less amount of affection and Scott is affectionate right back but he is also trying to send her away. Only for a moment, though, so he can talk with Logan, and the little girl frowns and doesn’t like it but caves in when he promises to get her some ice cream and Logan doesn’t get it yet again and as if it wasn’t already bad enough, the girl finally smiles again and nodds and then she says, “Thanks, papa!” and runs back where she came from, leaving Logan so awestruck it feels as if he’s a mere breeze away from losing his balance.

Part II | Part III

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Seven

(Gif's not mine.)

I am so sorry for only posting this chapter when Christmas is already over. I lost my initial draft and it was difficult to find time for writing since this season means lots of family time for me.

Anyway, I hope you'll still enjoy this last chapter. Previous chapters can be found on my Masterlist, just follow the link.

Chapter Seven 

Chapter warnings: Smut (mild), alcohol consumption (very mild). I think that’s it.

Ada grinned to herself as she slid under the white cotton bedcovers. It wasn't every day that she woke up before the Captain and she intended to make the most of it.

Kneeling on the mattress between his outstretched legs, she bent forward and licked the underside of his proud morning erection, from the base to the soft, pink glans where she made sure to trace the small slit. Sy's hips bucked up and his cock twitched in response, a soft moan escaping his parted lips, but he didn’t wake up just yet. Ada pouted for a moment - she wasn't feeling too patient this morning, not after the dream she had had.

This time, she grabbed his erection firmly at its base and proceeded to take him as deeply in her mouth and throat as her gag reflex would allow, hollowing her cheeks and humming softly.

His reaction was instant. His body went rigid and Sy sat up at once, a glazed look on his soft blue eyes. "Fuck, Ada!" He cursed loudly, carding a hand through his hair as he lifted the covers to look underneath.

His wife merely hummed around his cock, looking up at him with innocent eyes. Sy moved a hand to her cheek, caressing her skin with his thumb and feeling the outline of his cock inside her mouth. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling sharply. "Come up here, I want to kiss you," he rasped, surprising himself with his own words when her mouth felt so heavenly around him.

Ada pulled her head back with a slight pop and scooted forward, straddling his strong thighs. They shared a kiss before her lips moved to hover by the shell of his ear. "Happy three-year anniversary of our first meeting," she whispered smugly. No, she had not forgotten.

Sy laughed, draping one large hand over the back of her neck and pulling her closer to him, her wet folds sliding over his cock in the process and making them both freeze for a second, caught up in the sensation. "Guess I hit the Jackpot three years ago."

Ada chuckled and began to roll her hips against his. The friction felt too good on her clit to stop. "Pity you didn't hit the Jackpot in Vegas," she teased lightly, her hand moving to his shoulder for balance as she raised herself on her knees before slowly impaling herself on his cock. Ada gasped quietly as Sy buried a moan against her neck, his beard grazing her skin.

"If memory serves, I did hit the Jackpot in Vegas when I married you," he murmured.

Ada laughed lightly, her walls rhythmically clenching around his cock. "Stop being so sweet and fuck me already."

For all his natural authority, the Captain did know how to follow an order, especially when it came from his wife. With her holding on to his shoulders for leverage as she rode him, Sy found his head nuzzling her cleavage, his beard leaving the skin of her breasts raw and sensitive. Neither seemed to mind.

All too soon, Sy lost his patience and wrapped an arm around his wife's middle. He began a punishing pace, making her cry out in the mixture of pain and sweet rapture.

The doorbell rang just as they were catching their breaths, still dizzy with bliss. Sy groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. "Is this becoming a trend now?!"

Ada laughed at his reaction, disentangling herself from him. "So, it seems," she chuckled. "Go see who it is."

Sy huffed next to her. "Why should I be the one going?" After all, he had been the one who had let Tom in when he had come over for dinner.

Cocking a brow at him, Ada's voice turned mischievous. "I don't mind getting the door. But I'll go naked with your cum running down my inner thighs."

He glared at her dumbfounded, but nothing indicated that she was joking. With a sigh, Sy got off the bed and put on a pair boxer briefs, pointing an accusatory finger at her as he walked out of their bedroom. "That shit's not funny."

°°°

Ada picked up the small envelope that came attached to the wicket basket that had been delivered by a deli, a smile spreading on her face as she read the message.

"It's from Tom," she announced. "He wishes us a merry and delicious Christmas."

“Why is it that anytime the bell rings at the worst moment, Tom’s always implicated.” Still, Sy looked impressed as he started taking out the various foods from the basket. There was all you needed for a copious brunch and even a cold bottle of champagne and orange juice to make mimosas.

Ada got up from bed to grab the plastic goblets where they kept their toothbrushes in from the bathroom. Drinking mimosas in those would be a first but she really didn't want to walk downstairs. When she got back in the bedroom, Sy was already munching on a warm cinnamon roll. "What did we get Tom for Christmas?" He asked with his mouth full.

Ada rolled her eyes, climbing back on the bed. "We," she said, stressing out the word as she looked pointedly at her husband, "gave him a perfectly preserved 1925 Underwood typewriter and had it delivered to his parents' house in Wiltshire two weeks ago already."

Sy swallowed the rest of the pastry. "We are very good and generous friends, indeed," he jested, trying to imitate Tom's British accent.

They ate and drank lazily in bed. With a full belly, Ada had half a thought to take a nap – she had exerted herself this morning after all - but it was noon already and she still had lots to do.

"What time does your mom want us over?"

"Seven o'clock is the official time but she's probably expecting us much earlier to help with the cooking and the baking."

Ada bit her lip. Sy wasn't going to like this. "I won't be able to make it before seven. I've got errands to run."

Sy sighed in response. "If you want to avoid them because of the sex tape thing-" He was interrupted when she hit him with the pillow.

"It's not about that but thank you very much for reminding me of it right when I had finally managed to stop thinking about it." She laughed, gulping down the rest of her mimosa to help with the remaining mortification.  

Leaning forward to kiss her, Sy stopped just before their lips could touch. "I expect you at seven o'clock at the latest, Mrs. Syverson." He warned before finally landing a peck on her lips. "And if that errand of yours is to find me a gift, I wouldn't mind a new desk chair to play the console."

Ada barked a laugh. "Did you really think I would leave it until Christmas Eve to get your gift? Let me tell you, Sy, I got you the ultimate present."

He cocked an eyebrow. Was that a challenge? After all, he had stayed up very late three nights in a row to organize her gift. After all the care packages she had put so much thought in while he was away, Sy really intended to surprise her. "Whatever it is, I'm sure yours won't beat mine, darlin'."

She looked pensive for a second and then stretched out her hand, smirking. "Wanna bet on it?"

Sy chuckled, throwing back his head against the pillow before finally nodding. "As you wish, darlin'. May the most thoughtful gift win."

°°°

The airport had always felt like a real maze to her and the unusual hordes of people really weren't helping. Apparently, a snowstorm had taken over the entire East coast and tons of flights had been either cancelled or delayed.

Ada groaned as she tried to find a path between the crowds. This would have been so much easier if Sy had been there with her - people had a tendency to naturally move out of his way. Eventually, Ada gave up and took off her high heels, deciding to walk barefoot instead. She was already dressed for the Christmas Eve dinner since she knew she'd be cutting it short and it was unlikely she'd have time to get changed later.

When her phone rang, she fished it out of her pocket and took the call without looking at the screen, cursing under her breath. If she didn’t get to the counter in time before it closed, her gift would fall through. "Yes?"

There were some rushed whispers from the other end of the line, but she couldn't make out a single word with the loud ambient noise. "I can't hear you."

"Please tell me you're not leaving! On Christmas of all days!"

Ada stopped in her tracks, a frown taking over her face. What the fuck was going on? "Madie, calm down. I'm not going anywhere."

"Then why are you at the airport?!" Madie retorted, her voice a stressed whisper.

"How do you even know I'm -" Right. She had forgotten she'd given her sister-in-law the ability to track her phone a few years ago when she was still new to the city and afraid of getting lost somewhere. "Never mind." Ada interrupted, shaking her head. "Look, I will be there tonight. I am simply running a little late. Is Sy okay?"

"I - He - Urgh!" Madie groaned in frustration through the phone. "He's in the kitchen with mom, they're making cookies. Sy was worried about you because he thought you would have been here by now. Something about it not taking ages to buy a desk chair."

"Did you tell him where I was?" Ada asked, cutting off her sister-in-law. She had finally arrived at the right counter.

"No! God, no! I didn't want to worry him."

"Good. Don't tell him. I'll be there in two hours, give or take."

"Two hours?! Ada no-"

She had already hung up and slid her phone back in her pocket. Plastering the biggest smile on her face, Ada walked up to the lady at the counter. "Hello. I'm Ada Syverson. Please forgive me for being late."

°°°

The quick stop at the store had been hell. Why there were still so many doing their Christmas shopping on the 24th at six in the afternoon, was beyond her. Admittedly, she was there as well but it was simply because Sy would have found it if she had purchased it sooner. Frantically, Ada rubbed her hands over her dress and coat, trying to remove as she waited for someone to open the door.

Helen’s house appeared to have been fully decorated for the season. Luke and Elaine excitedly grabbed Ada hands and dragged her inside before she could even remove her thin coat, proud to show her the table they had helped decorate. It was a nice, festive table indeed, and Ada decided not to point out that cutlery was put in the wrong order. Apparently, her parents were the only ones absolutely pedantic about that.

Sy came running to her with a plate of cookies in his hand. "I made them!" He announced, showing off the Christmas treats as if they were precious jewels.

Before Ada could grab one, Madie appeared behind him, playfully slapping the back of his head. "He might have made the cookies, but I decorated them. I want credit for my work."

Ada rolled her eyes at their siblings’ antics and picked up a cookie, humming appreciatively just to elicit a proud grin from her husband. The fact that they tasted this good didn’t leave a doubt that Helen has kept a close eye on him.

"You made it on time after all, darlin'," Sy pointed out.

Ada ran her tongue over her lips, catching the crumbles. "There was not much traffic," she replied, electing not to mention her excessive speeding.

Dinner was a cheerful affair. Phil mostly kept them entertained with stories of dumb, sometimes rude, customers from the hardware store. When dessert eventually rolled around, Helen thanked everyone for being there, tearing up. It was the first time in years that the family was fully reunited for Christmas and she wished her late husband could have been there with them.

When it got to midnight, Ada learned that the Syversons had a special Santa Claus conception that they taught the kids: Santa did exist, but he only brought gifts to less fortunate children whose families were unable to provide presents for Christmas. If a child was lucky enough that their family could afford gifts, they each had to donate a present to a charity. Joshua had accompanied Elaine and Luke to do so this morning.

They had long finished exchanging gifts and the kids were already playing with their new toys, yet Ada was still going over the binder on her lap, tears in her eyes. Sy had planned this meticulously. He had even made sure she got two weeks off in February and that they would have the same car waiting for them in Vegas so they could do their West coast road trip in the Camaro they had driven to Vegas the first time. 1811km from Las Vegas to Seattle – she couldn’t wait!

She was so enthralled by her gift, she hardly even noticed Sy squeezing her shoulders or Josh calling her name. "I'm sorry, what?" Ada blurted out, jumping up when Sy decided to tickle her to finally get her attention.

"I was asking whether you'd forgotten to get Jack something?" Her brother-in-law teased gently, making her realize that everyone had already exchanged gifts and she hadn't even noticed.

Ada laughed. "I didn't forget. It... It's just not something I could give him here," she replied, attempting to stay vague but it sent the wrong message and she saw Madie chuckle, looking away with a knowing smirk.

"Oh, it's something naughty, then?" Josh asked playfully and Ada swore she could almost physically feel the daggers Helen was staring at her. First, the sex tape and now this, she was slowly getting afraid of what his family would think of her at this rate.

Sy cut off the teasing with a sharp and stern 'hey' in Josh's direction who immediately raised his hands in defeat, much to his Luke's amusement.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Sy leant down over Ada’s shoulders and whispered in her ear, smirking. "Is it? Something naughty, I mean."

Ada turned back at once, still sitting on the floor between his legs. Sy had the dumbest grin plastered on his face. "Not everything has to be naughty, you know," she chided light-heartedly, but Sy only laughed, until she pinched his thigh.

"Ada, will you come help me with the dishes?" Helen called from the other side of the room, startling her.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Ada silently pleaded Sy for help. The kitchen wasn't a big enough room for both Helen and her to come out alive. Yet, instead of getting her out of this, like any good husband would – might she add – Sy merely gave her an equally encouraging and bemused look.

Sighing, Ada got up on her feet and followed her mother-in-law into the kitchen. She grabbed a rag and awkwardly stood by the sink, waiting for Helen to hand her the clean dishes. They worked in silence, Ada carefully drying off the glasses, lest she have the bad luck of breaking something.

"I wanted to apologize," Helen said out of the blue.

Ada was caught by surprise. "What?" She blurted out before composing herself and shaking her head. "Excuse me, what?"

Helen sighed, drying her hands before turning to her. "I am sorry, Ada. For the way I've treated you."

"Oh." She gasped. Miracles did happen on Christmas then. Ada wasn't sure what to say. "It's okay."

The older woman frowned at her reaction. "Don't you want to know the reason?" Ada shrugged slightly. She was happy enough with the apology as it was. "I disliked you from the first moment because you were the reason my Jack missed Christmas with the family three years ago. It was the first time he was home for the holidays since he had been deployed."

Ada nodded slowly. Well, she could understand that. "Then my late husband slowly managed to convince me to give you a chance. He said that Jack wouldn't just marry any random girl," Helen paused, smiling briefly. "Well, on your first birthday here in Austin, I came by your house to drop off a gift and ask if maybe you wanted to go out for dinner. Once I got there, I saw you were already having dinner with someone else. A man. It looked like you were fun, and I naturally, perhaps foolishly, assumed the worst."

Ada opened her mouth, wanting to say that it was just Tom, but Helen silenced her with a wave of her hand. The woman had authority, it ran in the family apparently "A few weeks later, I saw you at the movies with the same man. That only confirmed my suspicions. I never told anyone, least of all Jack, because I didn't want to see him hurt, especially while he was still in Iraq but I was never able to move away from that."

"The man you saw me with is Tom. He's a good friend-,” Ada quickly explained as soon as her mother-in-law had finished talking.

Helen smiled, nodding softly. "Jack told me about Tom today. Said you three had dinner together, that Tom a kind man, and that the two of you were just friends."

"Well, it's true," she chipped in quickly.

"I believe you." Helen reassured Ada with a squeeze to her shoulder before heading back to the living room where the family was gathered.

Ada remained in the kitchen for a few seconds more, surprised by the turn of events but just as thankful.

°°°

"Nervous?" Sy inquired in the car, quickly glancing at her before moving his eyes back to the road.

Her brows furrowed. "What? Why would I be nervous?"

"You're biting your nails and checking your phone every few seconds." Sy told her, just as smug smile started taking over his face. "If it's about the gift, don't worry, darlin’. I know you couldn't possibly come up with a better gift than the one gave you."

Ada scoffed indignantly. "Let's see if your smugness remains once you see her."

"Her?" Sy asked just as she groaned at herself. Why had she let that slip? He laughed heartedly. "Darlin', Rihanna could be waiting for us at home for a private concert and it still wouldn't top my gift."

It was Ada's turn to laugh. "Perhaps not, but I'd definitely top her!"

°°°

“So, where is it?” Sy inquired as soon as they had made it through the threshold, looking around the ground floor to see if there was something new or unusual.

Even Ada was surprised nothing looked amiss. Her friend, Lily, also a volunteer from the animal shelter and who did not celebrate Christmas, had stayed over most of the evening and miraculously managed to keep the house intact. “Your present is in the study upstairs.” She told Sy, watching bemused as he quickly discarded his shoes to head upstairs.

“If you did get me a desk chair after all, I’ll kill you for all this suspense,” he threatened her playfully, landing a small kiss on her cheek before rushing up the stairs.

With a knowing smile, Ada leaned against the wall, waiting for Sy to open the door. Five seconds later, her husband’s excited voice reached her ears.

“Aika!”

The German Shepherd barked cheerfully in response. Despite the carpet flooring, she could hear the pitty-patter of the dog’s paws on the floor. Yes, they had both aced the challenge, Ada mused as she hung up her coat and took off her shoes. She grinned, shaking her head softly with amusement when she listened to Sy giving Aika the grand tour of the house upstairs.

"This is the bathroom. As you can smell, it ain't stinky like in Baqubah."

"Bedroom here. If you're real nice to mama, she might let you sleep here."

"The walk-in closet. Please don't come here a lot because you’ll get fur everywhere."

She looked up once she sensed them coming closer in the hallway upstairs. As soon as they appeared on the stairs, Ada started laughing at the sight. Sy was caring the German Shepherd in his arm like he would a toddler and Aika really seemed to be enjoying it.

"Be careful with the stairs, it's slippery 'cause of the varnish," Sy told the dog very seriously, sporting an authoritative frown before he caught sight of wife and smiled broadly, almost skipping over the last few steps.

"This is your mama," Sy introduced her, bringing the dog close enough to her face so that Aika could lick her cheek. Ada grimaced, making Sy scoff. "She's a bit uppity, but she's the best," he playfully whispered into the dog’s ear, as if sharing a great secret.

“Aika and I got acquainted in the car when I drove us home from the airport,” she told him, petting the dog’s snuff.

Sy finally set Aika down and she promptly ran off, exploring the ground floor and more specifically, the couch.

"I never thought you'd let me get a dog," Sy admitted, the grin still not leaving his face even as he leant down to kiss his wife. "Didn't even think you liked them."

Ada pulled back, looking offended. "I literally volunteer at the animal shelter weekly!"

"I know, darlin'. Just thought you would rather get a cat or a parrot, or something more Ada-ish."

She chuckled. Truth was she was still keen on getting a cat but now she'd have to find one that would get on with Aika.

Something weird in her peripheral vision caught her attention now that the lights were on, making her turn her head. "Is her fur... stained green?" It was the first time she’d had a good look at the dog under a bright light.

Sy laughed, clasping her shoulders. "Yes. Green dog means good dog. It’s a long story."

°°°

This is it. I hope you enjoyed the series. Thank you for reading!

I wish you a very happy New Year!

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​ @rn7rocks​

[deliquescentnightmare]

Easy Come, Easy Go- CH 3

~Coffee, guns, and disappearing doctors~

“So you’re Lestrade’s daughter then?” John asked as the two walked side-by side towards the main road.

“I am indeed. Have been since my birth- an impressive career of nearly 25 years,” She smiled, pulling her hair down to cover her ears- attempting to combat the cold England winter.

“You’re only 24? And have a PhD?” her companion seemed borderline incredulous, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying.

“Yes, I finished high school early, and got my bachelors within a year after that,”

“You’re awfully clever, then,”

“That stands to be seen. I still struggle to spell the word necessary,” she joked and they both laughed, “So you’re a doctor too then?”

“Yes, military actually,”

“Oh, well I don’t know how things works here in the land of cool accents, driving on the wrong side of the road, and the queen, but in America we thank Armed service members for their service,” She smiled, “So thank you for your service,”

“Oh- I’m- Uh, thank you,” John replied, stumbling slightly over his words as they came to the main road. A telephone booth near them began to ring and Delila gave it an odd look.

“Do- telephone booths normally do that?”

“Ring?”

“Yeah-”

“No, not normally,”

“Huh, alright,” Delila replied, startling slightly as her pocket began to vibrate and a tune could be heard from it., "Guess ringing phones just like us," she joked and he smiled a little. She pulled it out and hissed a curse, “Do you mind if I just step away to take this real quick? I won’t be long,”

“Go ahead, take your time. I’ll try and flag us down a cab,”

“Perfect, thank you,” Delila stepped away, ducking into a quiet alley, and answered the phone.

“Hello?” a voice crackled on the other end.

“Mom.. how- uhm- How nice of you to call..?”

“I heard you’re visiting your father,”

“I am indeed doing that,” she replied

“Well I just wanted to call to check in on you,”

“Well… that’s nice of you.”

“Have you talked to Jameson lately? He’s always been too busy to talk to me, but he likes talking to you,"

“Is that what you really called me for?”

“I was just wondering! No need to get so defensive,”

“No mom, I haven’t talked to him lately. Have you at least talked to Theo then?”

“Yes, actually. He mentioned something interesting,”

“And that is?”

“You are considering moving to London?”

“I’m considering it. Nothing is set in stone,”

“Listen, Delila. I know it’s been very difficult for you considering your previous situation, but I don’t think up and moving to another country is going to help much,”

“Mom, I know you’ve had it great and all, and you care about my well-being, but I don’t know how much of a say you really have in this,”

“Delila, I am much older than you- I’ve lived double your lifetime,”

“Please don’t pull the seniority card again mom. You don’t realise how stressful dealing with this has been,”

“You’re right, Delila. Just- don’t forget to come back to visit, okay?”

“Mom it’s really late there, you should get some sleep,”

“Oh don’t worry about me, I’m about to go out with some of the girls from work,”

“Mom, you mean the girls who are about 30 years younger than you?”

“Yes, actually! Oh- that must be them! I’ll call you back later, Delila!”

“I- ugh, stay safe please,”

“No promises!” her mother laughed and hung up. Delila sighed and stared at the contact photo for her mother for a moment as if it would tell her how to deal with her. After a silent moment, she shoved her phone into her purse and returned to the street, where John was no longer standing. She looked around in confusion, but didn’t see any signs of the doctor.

“Looking for someone?” Delila turned to see a woman in her late 20’s, with kind, dark almond shaped eyes and dark hair cut in a pixie cut.

“Yeah I was, actually,” Delila furrowed her brow, “I just stepped away for a moment to take a call and he’s gone…”

“What did he look like?”

“About yeigh tall, blonde, cable knit sweater, black jacket, cane,”

“Walked with a pronounced limp and looked like he was under too-much stress all the time?”

“Sounds like him, yeah”

“He stepped into the telephone booth, looked around a bit, hung up and got into an expensive looking car as it pulled up,” the woman said, looking down the street, “Odd fellow, your friend,”

“Yeah…”

“I’m guessing that wasn’t a part of your plans then?”

“Not really,”

“Do you think he’ll be comin’ back?”

“No, honestly I don’t know. I just met him today,”

“Well that’s a shoddy friend if you ask me,”

“I guess so. Would you know where I could go for a cup of coffee or tea?”

“They make a good cuppa at the cafe two stores down,” The woman explained, “Could I treat you to one? My treat,”

“That would be nice, actually,” Delila said and the duo walked to the coffeeshop. Li held open the door and Delila thanked her, grateful to be out of the cold.\

“Of course,” The woman smiled, “I never actually caught your name,”

“Oh, Lestrade, Delila Lestrade,” Delila stuck her hand out as they seated themselves at a booth.

“Ji-Li Hart, but you can call me Li,” The woman shook Delila’s hand, “So you’re American?”

“Yeah... well, my dad is from London,”

“Wait, is he the suicide-gating bloke from the papers?”

“I’m sorry what?”

“You haven’t heard? He did this interview about these serial suicides- three of ‘em so far- and when he was asked what people should do to keep themselves safe he said ‘don’t commit suicide’. Caused quite the uproar, it did,”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Delila sighed and buried her face in her hands, “I love my dad but he’s not the most soft-spoken or sensitive person,” She let out a small laugh, “At least he tried,”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Li laughed as well. Delila wasn’t quite sure how much time passed after that. A cup of coffee later, she was laughing along with Li to a story when her phone buzzed. It was an unfamiliar number and her heart stopped as she raised the device to look at the message.

Tell John to check his phone as soon as possible.

-SH

“Everything alright?” Li asked as Delila struggled to register the message. After a moment, however, the words sunk kin and she let out a breath, shaking her head slightly as if dispelling the panic that she unknowingly wore clear as day.

“Yes- I just-” Delila stared at her phone, “just seeing ghosts I guess,” she chuckled drily.

“What do you mean? If you don’t mind me asking,”

“A new acquaintance of mine spooked me by texting me out of the blue,” she shook her head and smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “guess he didn’t know I don’t have his number yet,” Her hands shook slightly as she clicked the power button to darken the screen and she slipped it into her pocket. Time felt like a train that had slammed on the breaks, and she struggled to keep the panic from rising as a blush into her pale cheeks.

“Ah, I see,” Li said, gaze dancing across Delila’s face, “well I’m sorry he worried you,”

“It’s nothing big, it’s just something an old… friend… of mine used to do,” Time seemed to jerk to a start as she heard a familiar voice.

“Delila?” Her head snapped up and her face broke out into a bright smile of relief. She pulled herself out of the booth and nearly crushed him in a hug.

“John! There you are! Where were you?”

“It’s a long story that I don’t think I can tell you right this moment,” John explained, “listen. I can’t stay. Sherlock texted me and he said it might be dangerous and I-”

“Was wondering if I’d come along?”

“Well erm-”

“Are you kidding? Of course I’ll come. You owe me a cup of coffee though,” She smiled before glancing back at Li, “I’ve gotta blast, but I can call you later?”

“Sure! Here’s my card, just text me whenever!” Li passed Delila a crisp black business card, and in one fluid motion, the orange haired young woman had slipped into her jacket and shoved the card into her pocket. With a wave, she and John had left the cafe.

“There’s a lot to tell you, but I can’t really until we get to somewhere safer,” John started to explain as he held the door open for her.

“I’m going to guess it starts with ‘That sketchy black government-looking vehicle is our transportation’?” Delila cracked, running her fingers through her curly hair and pulling it up into a ponytail as they approached said car.

“Well, yes, but,” John sighed, “I’ll tell you when we get to Baker Street,”

“Sounds like a plan,” Delila thanked the chauffeur and slipped into the car, startling slightly at the woman already inside.

“Hello again,” John said as the door closed behind him, “This is my friend, Delila,”

“I know,”

“Oh um- hi?” Delila waved awkwardly, “And your name is?”

“Hello Dr Lestrade,” The woman remarked, ignoring the second half of the young woman’s statement, “We should be at baker street shortly,”

“Okie dokie, well then,” she turned to John, “this is a fancy car. Do you always travel like this?”

“Not usually,” John replied, “This is actually a first for me,”

“Friend of yours?” Delila asked, gesturing to the woman.

“Not particularly,”

“Any use in asking who this car belongs to?”

“A friend of your friend,” the brunette supplied and Delila furrowed her brows. John shook his head as if to say not me, and she let out a frustrated huff. The rest of the ride was completed in silence, and as soon as they came to a stop, she nearly scrambled out of the car, unable to shake the feeling of unease that had settled on her skin like summer heat. She approached the door, and then halted as she realised her companion had stopped to talk with the woman in the car. After a moment, he sighed and shut the door, limping over to where Delila stood. He reached for the door but her hand reached out to stop him; she stayed silent as she watched the car pull away from the curb and into the flow of traffic before she reached under her coat and behind her to retrieve the gun she’d holstered there.

“What are you doing?”

“He said danger, right?”

“Yes?”

“So we’re going in prepared. Have you ever cleared a building?”

“Not in the middle of London in the dead of night,”

“Well there’s a first time for everything I guess,” Delila smiled, checking the gun magazine before clicking it into place, “Now stay behind me and don’t move until I give the signal. Unless you know something I don’t, there’s no telling what we’re heading into,”

“You know everything I know,”

“Where’s the main apartment entrance?”

“Second floor, first door you see when you reach the top of the staircase,”

“Right. Okay, follow behind me,” Delila instructed, opening the door of 221B before clicking the safety off. She moved quietly and cautiously, but with an air of confidence and trained precision; she knew what she was doing and she knew she was good at it. Moving up the stairs with a look of steely determination, she gestured with her head for John to follow and he did so as quietly as he could, shutting the front door tightly and silently behind him. Finally, his companion reached the door to their flat, which was wide open, he took a deep breath. She swung into the doorway, gun trained on whatever awaited out of his sight.

[sana-katarn]

👀👀👀

yes hello I am looking at Mitth’la’rajin and would like to know more (if you want to share, no pressure though) she sounds so interesting! a chiss imperial spy?? yes yes yes

KYLIE I am so sorry for answering this late, I had an exhausting day at work and immediately crashed when I got home hdhdhdhdhdjd ALSO THANK YOU FOR ASKING!! This made my day 😭

Sooo Mitth’la’rajin is my SWTOR OC and she is indeed an Imperial Agent for the Sith Empire! In my opinion, the Imperial Agent has one of the best (if not the best) story in SWTOR, so I totally recommend checking it out on youtube. I’m currently working on writing the story into a novel/fanfic form and I’m very excited about it! ☺️

A few random facts about her that nobody asked for:

Her core name is Lara (sometimes she’ll go by Lara Jin)

She’s roughly around 24/25 years old

Highly independent and a critical thinker. Definitely an INTJ lol

Part of the Mitth family bc I love Thrawn

Because of Imperial Intelligence training, she is highly skilled at sniping and vibroblade combat! Queen 💅

Very quiet. Doesn’t speak unless she has something to say. When she does speak, she is very matter-of-fact and has a sharp, biting sense of humor.

Despite her icy demeanor, she can be quite amiable with people she is very close to. But only if she feels safe and comfortable with them.

Also she is def into science. Especially botany and astronomy.

[idjitlili]

You're dead lachance.

Spike btvs x reader

Summary: Being Giles niece, going to America with him, only to meet Spike. There is anonymous request in here, 'getting locked in a room with Spike.'

A/n: slightly in Sundale , but mostly based in Los Angeles, the reader is British, due to being related to Giles. Hey, that's good for me , I'm British too. There's a request from anon but I'm not going to say to keep it a surprise. Malteser is a chocolate ball. How come I can write this much now? But I've got assignment s at are only 2000k words.

Word count:5019 Longest imagine yet.

Warnings: Language, Twilight hate references,period, questioning if vampires eat that answer is no or unconfirmed.

Not even a week ago, you had came home , only for your parental figure to rush to the door to greet you. Not long after that you were packing your suitcase for America , apparently your uncle Rupert had invited you out there. It had quite literally been years seen you had seen him, but not long until you would again.

In fact , it hadn't been even twenty four hours , before you were stood in his magic store. You weren't even sure why Rupert had brought you here. The suitcase that held your belongings , stood at your feet as Rupert  had welcomed you in, unlike your uncle had expected , the shop was completely empty, people wise.

Forced to sit down, while Rupert  made you a tea,informing you that he would get you settled at his home once he finished closing up his shop. What it felt like hours to you ,waiting, deciding it was best to read the book you had brought with you, not that you could really concentrate you just wanted to get cleaned up , in honesty.

Fingers tapping against the pine table , trying to read Boromir's last moments in Lord of the rings, re reading the same paragraph over , and over. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo ' , he glance strayed to his fallen enemies,20." Re reading those words same words, unable to comprehend them, like your brain was blocked by a tinfoil hat, that's bullshit. Three arrows he had been struck with, yet he was still able to kill twenty highly trained orcs , more than an average vampire could do.

You were no stranger to vampires , you hadn't encountered one to say, but you knew of Rupert  job as a watcher. Though you had watched Lord of the rings many times (or not it's just replace it) and yet you still couldn't pass it , didn't Rupert have workers to clean his shop? Repeating those words , still. "Hello ,love." You almost peed yourself , standing up abruptly launching your book at the thing that had pulled you out of your distracted book reading.

Bragging your lighter from your pocket, self defence lighter, holding in front of you. As the flame lit,lifting your head up at your 'attacker' , only to be met with a smirk and platinum leather wearing man, who had caught your book with ease. "Really a lighter?" British, you had not spoken to one American , since landing.

You had just continued to stare at him not quite certain what to say, until he did again. "So , Boromir ,hm?"  You hadn't notice him step forward , holding your book for you to take back, hesitating you took it from him slowly. "Uh, yes. Thank you,but ,um, who are you?"

"Spike, and you are?"Who names there son after a sharp object? Spike had smugly smiled , placing his in his trouser pockets, it was if he was proud. You didn't get a chance to respond to Spike, before Rupert had reappeared , standing between you and Spike.

"Spike , get away from my niece, I will not allow you to corrupt her." Spike had gasped dramatically, putting his had over his mouth ,"You're related to him? But Blimey he's all ARGH and you're not." Spikes face of disgust when he looked at your uncle, Rupert had removed his glasses and began cleaning his glasses.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" Picking up your bags , as Rupert ushered Spike out of the shop, with you behind to lock up, it now being dark.  "It was lovely to meet you , Giles attractive niece.." "Y/n." "Y/n.." Repeating your name back slowly smiling , only if you knew he was an evil defective vampire.

"Quit the flirting Spike, she's not going to be here long." That was the last you saw of Spike , for now anyways. It wasn't even another 24 hours later , your uncle had sent you off to Los Angeles , to Wesley at Wolfram & Hart.

Wesley...you had seen him in years , since he left England. You being younger than him by some years , but you had been friends with him , being connected to Giles and all. You were brought to America to work for an evil law firm not your ideal future.

That was a year ago , not as bad as you had originally thought, Angel the CEO was indeed broody but he was trying to make a difference. In fact , the job paid very well, and all you did really read up on demons and sometimes view bodies for symbols and such.

Perhaps,yes, it did get quite lonely, it  wasn't like you had you mum to make you meals or anything. All you could have was calls from her now and then. Wesley was your friend; but he was too busy flirting with Fred. The others well, you weren't close friends, just friends.

Today was not a great day for you, first you had gotten to work  without lunch, forgotten a jacket, and Angel scheduled a meeting but you had fallen down the stairs three times. Ten minutes late, a huge bruise on your head , ruffled hair and clothing not looking very bodacious.

Knocking on the door to Angel's office three times gently , before waiting for his response to allow you in. Everyone staring at you , your face flushed with embarrassment. "I-I'm so sorry, you won't believe today has been horrible, I wouldn't have been late if I hadn't of fallen down the same stairs three times."

Heavily breathing from all the rushing, head aching like you had just hit your head falling down the stairs, Angel and the others looking at you with slight sympathy. "I've got to get a look at this muppet." That voice, you knew that that voice, until Spike had appeared from the corner of the meeting room , as you and Angel were about to walk into the room.

Almost bumping into Spike as you and him both met the door at the same time. You two would've bumped right into each other, but he passed right though you. Turning back around to see if you imagined that or not, turns out you didn't Spike was stood in front you , looking at you , with gaped mouth which didn't last long until he was smiling.

"W-what?H-how did y-" "Nice to see you again , love. Well, not long after you left I saved the world, and died. No need to thank me , love," Angel had coughed , pulling your attention from Spike charming smile he was sending your way, to him gesturing you to sit.

Spike had not decided to sit down , but to stand behind Angel at an Angel, one to annoy Angel which you could already see in his face , two to be in eye range of you. Not that he liked you , he full loved Buffy, for now anyways.

Angel had officially began the meeting , head-aching still, probably why you couldn't concentrate, concussion. All you could think was , wow Casper the friendly ghost, well you didn't know he wasn't , and that he was a vampire.

So lost in thought ,well no just pain , you didn't hear the calling of your name or snapping of fingers in front of your open eyes.

"Y/n? Y/n?" Only when there is a touch of a small hand on your shoulder , you realise , looking up to see Fred. "Yes, sorry. Um , I hit my head a bit too hard."

"Angel , she needs to go to a doctor. Her head is literally bleeding out , ""Yeah you should've sent her straight away, she fell down the fucking stairs, for a vampire with a soul , you have no compassion." Spike had interrupted Wesley, to criticise Angel.

You had a couple of days off last week , to visit your family, hence you hadn't seen Spike there before that. You had fallen off your chair when you had felt a hand on your shoulder, moving to see if that was Angel or Lorne, but it wasn't.

"Already on your knees for me?" Spike, staring down at you , smirking what a shock. "I'm not even on my knees, I'm on my butt. Plus what you want me to do mime."

"Okay, okay, Hon, let's go take to a doctor." Lorne had helped you up, as Spike had smiled Wider, as you both left, with some calls of sympathy's.

You only had to have you bloody head , in your hairline glued back together. Not surprising when there was blood dripping down your face like a waterfall. Other than that you were back the next day, carrying on your week like you would normally would.

Each week that went by Spike would come visit your office, mostly at lunch, knowing you didn't leave your office to socialise, only to use the bathroom. It had started with him using the excuse that he wanted to see how you were doing , after falling down the stairs, which was quite hard to believe,as he didn't seem like the caring type.

Then it he came to your office to tell you stories  about him saving the world and just recently , almost being killed by another ghost.

You hadn't even seen that when he entered your office he used the door by turning the handle, instead of going through it. Not at least until he had spooked you again ,placing his hand your shoulder squeezing it slightly.  Falling again out of you chair, probably would've smacked the back of your head on your desk.

If you weren't grabbed by your forearms, and were lifted back onto your feet, by rough hands... Spike had scared you to death again, yet this time he had saved your fall.  Pulling a arm from his, looking into his eyes, as you brought your hand to his cheek, your finger tips against his cheek bone. His skin soft, not how you would've imagined.

Cold.

His skin, cold , but now he isn't a ghost? So why does he feel like the other side of the pillow on a summer night. Moments go by ,not many , before you pulled away again. "Fred , s-she figured out how to bring y-you back?" Still wondering why he felt like ice,  also to hide the embarrassment that you had touched his face without asking.

"No, someone sent me some post,"  The distance between you two was more than close, your legs pressed against your desk, Spike's face barely inches away, he must've closed in on you. "Oh lovely,um have you had anything to eat yet?" He had smiled at you , with lust in glittering in his eyes , but not for what you might think, but hunger.

"I have not." Don't turn Edward ,please, no one wants that ,'Oh I'm sorry Bella but you might die if we fuck, because of my huge Thanos sized dick.' "Oh , well I've got , um, some sandwiches, that's if you want to share." You had gently made your way passed Spike as he nodded slightly suggesting we would share, to get into your bag, reaching for your lunch bag.

Both sitting at the sofa in your handing Spike a sandwich, as you held yours, facing each other, sitting on your calves, well Spike couldn't do that , if you know what you mean. Not long after you had reached for your flask , pouring it into your cup. "Tea?" Spike had grabbed the cup from your hand, drinking a fair lot down, before handing it back to you, mixture of crumbs and tea around his mouth. "You know how to make good tea, not those bloody Americans , milk first , bloody bullshit."

Before anything was said, Lorne had burst into the room , panic washed over his face. "Angel needs you both , quick honeys! We don't have time to spare." To say the least you were confused , never less you all headed to Angel's office and soon enough you were all, Angel, Spike, Fred, Gunn, Wesley, and Lorne were driving to a safe house. 'A rescue mission.' Apparently, you didn't even know who you were supposed to rescue, all you knew was you was all supposed to stay here until they arrived.

Sounded fishy , and you were right to think so, not long after you all discovered it was a trap. Probably just about a hundred vampires, were lurking around the property, waiting...

The floors creaking as you all walked across the the pine wood hallway, not to mention you had barely any fighting stills, all you held was a stake. The others well that ways a mixture of axes , and stakes. Sorry not only vampires in this house, spirits too. Spike had paired off with you , whilst the others did the same , you both walked into a bedroom, which was thick with mould and dust.

Not even one step in the door had slammed shut, Spike had immediately tried the door body slamming against , but it was no use. As you made your way to the window, "Spike.." BANG still going at the door , "SPIKE." Whisper shouting to him, gesturing for him to come over , once he had heard you.

"Vampires..." pulling you away from the window, out of sight." We need to get out of here, now."

"Where? we can't get out of here." Looking around the room there was no options. You don't even get to take a breath ; before the window is smashed in as well of the door, you are both completely circled , 7 vampires.  Before you know it they are lunged for you , gripping your stake tightly , as you fight  a vampire off , with struggle , god damnit. Where's David from lost boys, instead you are stuck with one that's never brushed it's teeth.

Finally stabbing it in the heart. Proof another one bites the dust. Now there was even more dust in this house. The rest of the vampires were dead, you didn't realise that Spike had taken on the rest with no struggle, turning to face you after dusting the last one, his face,his face. He was one of them, he had been dead this whole time , even when he was brought back.

"Y-you're a vampire?" Shocked was to say the least what you were feeling , he had turned back laughing lightly.

"What were you expecting? The Easter bunny?Did you think I was human? This whole time, oh love." It wasn't that you felt like you trusted him less after finding out but still, you're an idiot, no you are not.  "I thought you were because you are my food; Plus I thought vampires were evil?"

"I wasn't going to refuse a sandwich. I have Soul, love. For your information, I got it the hard way, not like that brooding bugger."

"Sorry, Can we go now?" Thus Spike tried the door again, it had opened, both of you rushed out and down the stars , out the doors to find the others in the car waiting , like it was a robbery.

Your lunches with Spike continued even months after finding out he was a vampire; yet now you packed enough lunch for the two of you. Though he could just have his blood, but no he wanted your food. In honesty he was lucky that you actually shared your food with him.

You were sure that Spike must've preferred the company of Fred over you, and there was a day that he didn't have lunch with you. Apparently he had went to see Buffy , yet he was back the next day, why he hadn't stayed with the woman he loved , that was unknown to you. Thus there he was having lunch with you everyday you were at work.

You had even watched Lost boys with him one lunch. "You think I'm like that ponce?" Why the offices had TVs you had no idea. You had told Spike that he had reminded you of David. "W-what, It's not that hard to believe , first both of you have cool hair , two he is evil but the evil that you're like wow he's not that bad , he's cute and maybe he not what he seems. Like Loki, God of mischief." Spike had scoffed, laughing slightly.

"Did you just call me cute? I'm bad , I'm evil, mortals quiver under my wrath." He had made a toothy scrunched face , whilst bringing his hands up like he was a bear attacking, only to make you grin harder. "Okay, now you are a kinky Loki 'quiver under my wrath' seriously?"

"And how would you know what's kinky, love?" His words delivered with a smirk , that made your cheeks redden just by his gaze. "Uh,um, well I read a lot- I MEAN I do stuff all the time like last night.. he had a cane."

"Oh really, he had a cane?"

"Yep thats correct."

"Well that's a shame, love , because I've seen you face stuck in your books , blushing... and I can smell the innocence radiating off of you."

"Hey! Don't go smelling that, so you're telling me that when I have my period you can smell that too? You know what don't answer that, nor do I want to know if you've ever eaten that. Nor do I want to know why I thought of that.." Throwing a Malteser at him, would've hit him if he hadn't caught it in his mouth. 

"I cannot believe you just said that. Love, you have too much time over thinking."

"No doubt , that's why I was never popular , let's pretend I never said that thing and only that compared you to David and Loki, hm?"

"Of course, I wish you hadn't given me the idea,joking I swear."

"Uh, I don't know if you like men or not but when the male part is erected it's one of the most blood filled appendages plus I looked you up, William the bloody, maybe that's how you got your name.." Yes maybe you spent more than your lunch hour not doing work, sitting cross legged now facing Spike completely , who just had turned his upper body from the tv.

Angel though, you'd think he was just happy , happy that Spike wasn't in his office constantly annoying him. It wasn't easy for anyone to keep Spike entertained. "I do not suck cocks nor have I ever , love, I have nothing against those that do,but I assure you that my terrible poetry is the only reason for the name, "

"Nothing to do with you killing hundreds of people?"

"Oh yeah, that too." Nothing more was spoken, you both had went back watching until lunch was over, then you were back to work. By five you had left to go home , not even two hours later you had realised you had left your house keys in your office. You had went to the shops, for some general stuff , hence why you hadn't realised you had left your keys.

Making it back to Wolfram & Hart , around nine o'clock, deciding to get some food , for after you got your keys and got home finally. The security man, Dean, had let you , well no he had was turned doing something and you slipped in, the rest of the firm was dark , everyone had left, or that's what you had thought.

Opening your office door, with your key, why you had it separated from your house key , you don't know , but it was lucky you had one set otherwise someone could've went through your stuff. Well there wasn't much really interesting, ancient books and such. Rushing to your desk in the dark searching everywhere , under your desk, in the draws, the floor.

Finally finding them down the side of the sofa , which you were sat at with Spike, watching Lost boys. When the door swings open , you are quickly grabbed by the foreman's and are shoved against the wall."what are doing here?" The mans voice, aggressive, yet you know who it belonged to, Spike. No very difficult to figure out as you spent at least an hour with him , five times a week, for months.

"Uh, I just left my keys." Spikes grip had loosened on your arms slightly. " Y/n?" Pushing him off of you,"yes, yes it's me , thanks for attacking me, " It was pitch black in your office , only the light from the moon , now on your face , part of it anyways.

"Well, Bloody hell, love you shouldn't be in an evil law firm by your lonesome , especially at night."

"What you are going to eat me now?" Spike wasn't even a foot away; if he was a live you'd feel his breath on your face. Instead the cold air surrounded you, Spikes arm above your head closing you in, only being able to look at his face , an outline of it. "Oh, you'd just love that, wouldn't you,pet?" You had scoffed lightly at him.

"Shut up, my foods getting cold , and I don't like it in here." Ducking under Spikes arm, grabbing your food and key, before making your way out your office and the building. Spike following you ,but the security guard was gone and the door was locked , no way out.

"Well isn't that bloody brilliant."

"There's no way we are getting out of here , till morning ,"

"Can't we call someone?"

"I don't know , do you have anyone's number?" That was it , you both had headed back to your office , found some candle, since the electricity had been turned off, at on the floor with your food. You weren't sure why he decided to stay with you , maybe it was just that you had food.

Your back against the sofa , as you both ate , you were in no doubt that you were talking tomorrow off. You knew you or Spike was going to have to sleep on the sofa, ah yes perfect, back pains. "Why were you here so late anyways?" After finishing your mouthful of food, why Spike would want to lurk here at night , that was unknown.

"Just snooping through Angels stuff, then I heard you, so."

"Ah, of course." Smirking at you , leaning back his palms behind him, sideways on from you, uh , you're not Ryan Reynolds? Actual um, sorry but you're hotter. Your food all gone , except the small amount of drink left.

"Honestly this couldn't be a better day, my keys fell down the side of the sofa , and I didn't realise until I went home. Then this happened , and now we are stuck here, when I could be at home, sleeping."

"It's not so bad, you could've been stuck here with Angel, love."

" You really don't like Angel, I'm not surprised he makes small problems seem unsolvable. Yet within a couple of hours , all is fine. Actually that sounds a lot like me, over thinking everything. But yeah Angels is a bit of an arse."

Spike only smirking at you, in return.

Glancing at your watch , 12:03 , you were only lucky that Spike was able to pick the lock on the toilets. Otherwise you don't know what you would've done, ah yes, peeing yourself in front a rather good looking , dead man. Leaving your office to go pee again , before returning rubbing your eyes as you walked through the door.

"Are you going to get some sleep, love?" Spike had cleaned up all the rubbish, throwing it all away, you wouldn't expect that from dead guy, former mummy's boy. "Uh, if the sofa wasn't built like a rock, yes , but since that's the case no." Settling back onto the floor, careful not to catch on fire, as you crossed passed some of candles.

Instead of Spike replying yet , he had stood up and made his way to the sofa , plopping himself onto it, with poof. "You got to be joking love , you clearly never have lived in a crypt." W h at was it wish vampires living in crypts , or complaining that their huge cold dick will spilt a human in half. Turning to face the sofa, not being able to see Spike, letting out a dry laugh.

"Yeah that doesn't convince me, are you just so old that you don't remember that every day at lunch that I sit on that sofa with you?" Spike had sat up to look at you with a glare ,yet again scoffing. "Well then , Pet, how about you come lay on me, I'm very comfortable."

Without thought you had gotten up , and thrown yourself onto Spike, both groaning as your back slammed into Spikes chest. He was lucky really that your butt bone , not tail bone, the top of your leg one, didn't smash into his parts. Instead he had wrapped around you so you were stuck in place. "I see what you are doing."

"And what is that?"

"I body slammed you, now you're cuddling with me? Mental , you're an ice cube, yeahh sureeee so comfortable, I love being engulfed by Vanilla ice."  Not that he looked much like Vanilla ice but it's a little funny, not really but.

"Hey, I won't stand to be your cushion , with your bullying."

"Didn't you kill hundreds of people? And you get defensive when I call you Robert van Wrinkle?" Turning your head to look up to Spike who was looking down on you, shuffling so that you were laying next to the sofa back and on Spike with your hand on his chest.

"Love,I'll eat you, try sleep." This isn't a Loki imagine when he kidnaps you and it turns out he's a vampire , and he gets busy and drinks your blood for a fetish. Spikes arms around your shoulder , eventually falling asleep with your head on his chest.

Everything was fine, until Wesley and the rest of them had came looking for you. As you was supposed to be in a meeting with them in the morning , so was Spike but they were worried for you.

"Couldn't they do that at home?"

"Can I poke them with a stick?"

"Ah yes, poke the mass murdering vampire , very smart ,Gunn. "

No consideration of being quiet, you both had been woken, it wouldn't be that surprising if Spike was pretending to be asleep , to avoid talking to people he didn't like very much except Fred.

Waking up to see a bunch of people just smiling at you at , wasn't the best. "So, Spike what about Buffy?" Sitting up ,before standing up from Spike, must've hurt having a whole body on you all night , maybe it didn't effect him because he has super strength? Spike just turned to sit on the sofa , unimpressed facial expression, hunched.

"Buffy has her own life, I'm not apart of it."

"I-is this all you came her for? To wake us? And   taunt? I'm taking the day off ," No uncertainty that you wanted to get home, and shower and eat. You had looked back at Spike who had looked back , standing up. "I'll drive you."  Grabbing your bag, before bow in front of Angel for whatever reason. "Thank you so much for locking us in an evil law firm all night. Bye Fred, Wesley, Gunn , Lorne."

"Bye hon." Lorne was always a sweetheart , wishing that every guy was like him, kindest soul and very much cute. Spike and you had left after you had sent Lorne a smile. Walking out with bed hair and day old clothes , not that Spike had offered his arm but you were still holding onto to walk.

Walking past Harmony, she had sent daggers your way, why doesn't she just kidnap Orlando Bloom or something. Gripping onto Spikes arm tighter , walking down the stairs, not falling this time, thankfully. Before you made it to Angels' car park, and got into one of this favourite cars. "Uh, are we supposed to be taking Angels car?"

"What? It's mine, love, what are you going on about?" Opening the the car door at the same time , settling in the seats before slamming the door shut. The windows of the car , made from the same glass that wolfram & Hart was supplied with, since the cars were supplied by wolfram & Hart for Angel, a vampire. That also meant that Spike could drive in the sunlight protected.

"Okay, okay." Once you had made it into your building car park, Spike had walked with you up to your door. Being finally able to unlock your door, with your shopping ,lucky there wasn't any fridge nor freezer items. Turning back to Spike who just stood at your door, grinning slightly.

"T-thank you for staying with me yesterday, and for driving me home." A small blush upon your face, it wasn't unknown to you that you had developed a crush on Spike , how couldn't you? "That's alright ,love." Still stood in front of you, looking into your e/c eyes , you staring into his brightly lit blue ones. He was waiting for you to say or to do something.

Leaning to the side of his face, to press a peck onto his pale toned cheek. Instead of course , he had turned and you ended up pressing your lips , onto his briefly. Pulling away red cheeked , Spike now smirking at you again. "H-hey um, do you want to come and watch Lord of the rings with me?" You weren't sure what you was supposed to say after kissing someone accidentally.

"I would," thus that you held your door open wide, "I invite you into my home."

Therefore, you watched Lord of the rings with a dead man.

[ohtobeaspettyasleah]

Can we get more background on Lori and also a reason why Adele left

Adele Samuels and Lorelei Figgs had known each other for the better part of a decade, not the type of best friends to be attached to the hip 24/7-- they mostly went about their lives after high school following different pathways that would ultimately lead them to communicate on a casual basis. The every second-day check-in, the occasional Snapchat, Facebook tag under a meme that had them both crying with laughter. It was casual, a strong connection that didn’t need constant validation or communication to understand Adele would always be in Lori’s corner and Lore is Adele’s. 

That was until, well, until Lorelei started dated Jacob Marshall. A Character to say the least and Adele’s slightly estranged step-brother, from her Fathers second marriage. In Jacobs short 21 years on earth, he had racked up a pretty hefty tally in regards to misdemeanours and assault charges. Swearing he’d be a better man for Lorelei he enrolled in community college, straightened himself out a little more. Got a job that didn’t see him evading his taxes or being paid cash in hand for jobs that had him running from authority. Sometimes people do indeed change? Other times? It’s just a matter of time before the bomb explodes--you can’t change those who don’t truly want to change. Jacob Marshall was absolutely no exception to the eons-old rule. Adele knew that well before Lorelei ever sensed the change. 

She should’ve known better than to get mixed up with the kid from school who got caught selling cocaine under the bleachers to the football team before their homecoming game. But Lorelei and Jacob always had that on again off again classic toxic frenemies relationship. He had a spell on her, someone Lorelei nor Adele could ever explain. They were entangled well before Adele’s dad married Jacobs mum down at the courthouse on 5th ave-- whatever was meant to be had already been put in place years ago. It’s just the fact Lorelei and Jacob couldn’t have been more different, more polar opposites if they tried. Jacobs had always been the hardass, the guy with the home job tattoos, the roid muscles he swore were all-natural. The crackjaw that swung left to right whenever he’d get on the gear with the boys. The law-breaking, gym junkie with a white card that allowed him to work construction and heavy machinery.

Lorelei? Well, she could’ve had it all. But settling for the only guy that had ever given her the time of day was all she ever knew how to do- especially when throughout highschool? He wouldn’t let another guy ever get close enough to say hello. It was always mental mind games. The suttle manipulation-- always with the gaslighting that had Lore feeling less than. She was smart, bright. But her lack of street smarts always got the better of her. Especially when it came to Jacobs. Fuck, it was always Jacob. 

By the time Grayson had finished with his much need shit shower and shave routine, Lorelei was finishing up with Ethan in the podcast room. Taking in all he had to teach her and all she had to learn. 

“And don’t even sweat it, if you forget I can just show you again, or Gray can-- whoever’s around.” 

“Seems pretty straight forwards, it’s an amazing setup.” Lorelei sat on the chair Grayson would normally sit on for filming podcast videos-- feeling a little lightheaded. Nothing she couldn’t mask. Focusing on her breathing, Lorelei watched as Ethan powered down the monitor and flipped back to the cameras. “Pretty secure security system huh?” 

“We’ve had a few incidences, can’t put a price on security.” Ethan shrugged. “If you want we’re just gonna be hanging out for the rest of the day, so you can stay and chill or go home, either way, its a pretty full day tomorrow, have some errands and shit to do so we’ll need you here from what? Maybe 10?”

“That’s fine, I can do that, do you want me to bring over breakfast for everyone? Coffee?” Lore asked with a soft smile, she was just happy to be needed. Happy to be living. Happy to be in the presence of people who valued her. It was nice. A welcomed change. 

“Monty’s open at 11 so we’ll do burgers for lunch instead, you vegan?”

“Not exactly but I try--”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Ethan laughed as Lorelei followed him down the hall out to the kitchen. “So you staying?” she wanted to. Lorelei would’ve loved to have said yes, but she needed to sleep. Suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. 

“Id love it, but I better get going, still have some stuff to do at home so I better--”

“I’ll walk you out” it was Grayson. His hair a sopping mess of dark locks that could’ve used a towel dry. The Grey sweats hanging low on his hips as he pulled over his hoodie-- the same Ethan and gifted Lorelei yesterday. Her favourite. Lorelei stared for a moment too long but ultimately nodded in shyness. 

“Sounds good.” there was a short shared silence for a few minutes while Grayson walked slowly beside Lorelei back to her car. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, how to act. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the whole hiring process, kinda have a few things going on.” Grayson pressed his lips together as the pair approached Lore’s car. “Sometimes a bit of fresh air is all I need, but I’m here now and I’m excited to have you here, really, Adele, she uh-- she said good things about you.” Grayson was never a fan of lying, but he didn’t think this little white lie would hurt anyone. A victimless crime. He knew only what Ethan had told him Adele had said. Lorelei blushed. She could instantly feel the heat on her cheeks. 

“She’s such an idiot but I love her, she’s done a lot for me, especially setting this u, couldn’t thank her enough, or you guys, even if I wanted to.” Lore was speaking from her heart, Grayson could already tell she was genuine. Not a lot of people were genuine in L.A anymore. “I better get going.”

“Let me take you out for lunch soon? I feel like you and Ethan hit it off really well, I just want the same kinda opportunity to get to know you, you have access to my bank account I feel like I should at least have your number?” Lorelei chuckled but nodded in response. Grayson had never been so straight forward-- he wanted to crawl inside himself. Someone, anyone had to stop him before it was too late. Because he wasn’t about to stop himself, no not this time. Not with Lorelei. Her name alone had him making sure his inhaler was on his presence 24/7 and he’d known her for all of an hour. Grayson realised at that moment as she asked his assistant to go grab lunch with him, not for him, with him-- that he was in fact pathetic on a new simp level only unlocked by the very few men who fall in love in three seconds flat. 

“Oh yeah, sure lets us, gab lunch-- but I’m pretty sure my numbers on the fridge, I put it there on a pink sticky.” 

“Cool, alright well, ill see you tomorrow, uh here--” Grayson opened Lorelei’s car door for her. She beamed a bright smile. No one had ever done that before. Not for her, she thought it was something that only happened in movies. Sitting down, she strapped herself as her window went down. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, have a good day Grayson.”

“I’ll text you.” Lorelei laughed as she reversed, shaking her head playfully as she drove off biting her lip. Wondering if she was in fact reading too much into such a small encounter with the younger Dolan. Grayson stood in the middle of the drive speechless with himself:

“I need another shower.”

[microcos-pod]

Bonus Episode #4 - The Fire Is Slowly Dying

*** JESSE Hey, it’s Jesse Smith! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Believe me, we’ve missed being in your feeds every two weeks so much, but we are sadly still on hiatus. In good news: we are getting very close to being ready to return, and we will keep you updated on our social medias of an estimated time of returning to normal scheduling.  About a year ago, we released our first bonus episode on a whim, having written all of the trailer and the first draft of our pilot. Who would’ve thought that we’d have come so far in just a year. But, we couldn’t have done it without the amazing support of all of you, listeners, and for that we thank you so very much. Anyways, without further ado, our newest mini-episode: The Fire is Slowly Dying. Work well.

*** ANNOUNCER Futuristic Trail Mix Productions Presents Micro-Cosmos: A Science Fiction Podcast. ***

JASON Mr. Lacount? I have your coffee.

[sfx: knocking on the door, opening it]

JASON (CON’T) Mr. Lacount? Uh, Hello? Hello?

VIOLA I’ve collected a series of voicemail messages addressed to a select number of company employees, Mr. Lacount, just as instructed. Would you like for me to play them?

[Jason yelps.]

JASON Uh, ah, oh. Oh.  [He puts on an impression of Mr. Lacount in a panic.]

Um, um...Yes, yes, dear, that would be perfect?

VIOLA Message 1: Addressed to Dr. Emily Macey. December 11, 2093. 3:41 PM.

[sfx: a voicemail beep] OCTAVIA Good evening, Emily. This is Octavia. Though I appreciate your fast response to my previous email regarding my son’s upcoming project, I would appreciate it even more if you could return my calls. This is, after all, a rather time sensitive matter, I hope you recognize that. 

[Octavia sighs.]

Irregardless, I would appreciate an ETA and a description of his accessibility to communication. I would like to speak to my son. Thank you very much. 

[sfx: a voicemail beep]

VIOLA Message 2: Addressed to Dr. Emily Macey. December 14, 2093. 6:53 PM.

[sfx: a voicemail beep] JEANETTE Hey there, Dr. Macey, it’s Jeanette. Is Marsha still at the office? She’s normally home by now and she’s not answering the phone, it’s not like her to-

[sfx: a door creaks open, footsteps as Marsha returns]

JEANETTE (CON’T) Oh, hey there, doll!

MARSHA Hi-a, honey. Sorry I’m running late, I had to stop by Ann’s for some flowers.

[sfx: cats meowing distantly]

JEANETTE Oh, Marsh, they’re beautiful! I- One moment, I’m sorry. Problem solved. Sorry about that! Thanks, anywho. Chag Sameach!

MARSHA Aww, were you worried about me miss-

[sfx: a voicemail beep]

VIOLA Message 3: Addressed to Receptionist Marsha Francis. December 15, 2093. 10:27 AM. [sfx: voicemail beep]

MINERVA Hey, Dr. Macey? It’s Minerva, um, Minerva Romero. My sister came in to see you last week and she’s just been… super cryptic about it since then. Like, she doesn’t normally tell me everything, but this is different, and I really don’t need that energy hanging over Christmas dinner. So…to herselfI know this is probably a long shot.steadying herselfI was curious to know if I might be able to get some information on the project she’s been training for? I totally understand the confidentiality part and all, I’m not asking for much, I just want something. Please? You’ve got my phone number, please call me back when you can. Merry Christmas.

ATHENA Minnie, I’m about to head-

[sfx: voicemail beep]

VIOLA Message 4: Addressed to Dr. Felix Couvillion. December 17, 2093. 12:48 PM.

MOTHER Good evening, Felix. I’m reaching out to you on behalf of my son, your supervisor. It would be quite appreciated if you could visit his office within the next 24 hours and receive your instructions. Your lack of response to his, and now my, calls is quite unprofessional.

[sfx: voicemail beep]

VIOLA Message 5: Addressed to Receptionist Georgina Hollinghead. December 17, 2093. 2:54 PM.

[sfx: voicemail beep]

FELIX Gnädige Frau, good afternoon! You see, that's incredibly interesting- your last message! Very interesting, indeed, because the funny thing is: I did not intentionally miss any calls! Speaking with your son is …A joy, and I would never miss talking to him for the world! Such a good supervisor, oh boy, yes indeed! I have just been

[He continues as if he’s struggling to push something] - with some work- in the lab. [Felix pants slightly but appears to have succeeded at whatever his task was.] But yes, I am on my way to his office right now, as a matter of fact! I will see him then! Thank you so much, have a lovely day. Happy Holidays.

[sfx: voicemail beep]

VIOLA Message 6: Addressed to Receptionist Marsha Francis. December 21, 2093. 3:02 PM.

[sfx: voicemail beep]

MINERVA Hey, it’s Minerva Romero again. Was hoping you could work on getting back to me with that information, please? I know you’re not supposed to, believe me, I know, I’ve looked into the legality, but I just want to be aware of what is happening. She won’t tell me anything. I won’t tell anyone if you tell me, okay? I swear on my life. I swear on her life. I just want to know what my sister is doing, since it’s clearly so important. Please, Dr. Macey.

[sfx: voicemail beep]

VIOLA Message 7: Addressed to Receptionist Marsha Francis. December 22, 2093. 9:34 AM.

[sfx: voicemail beep]

GABRIEL Sorry if this is the incorrect use of this phone number, I don’t want to schedule an appointment or anything, I just wanted to see what the status of Alex de la Cruz’s training was? Is there a chance she could come home for the holidays? Her son and I have missed seeing her, and God knows she could use the break. Just consider it, please? 

[Gabriel sighs.]

Thanks. Have a happy New Year.

[sfx: voicemail beep]

VIOLA Message 8: Addressed to Dr. Emily Macey. December 23, 2093. 10:43 AM.

[sfx: voicemail beep]

MARSHA Hey there, dolly. I know it’s your day off, but I am just hopin’ and hopin’ to everythin’ nice and good out there that you’re gonna listen to your voicemail for once. 

[sfx: paper shuffling and typing for a moment]

I’ve had a coupla family members of the Ophiuchus-22 crew contact me, and… Well, I think you should reach out to them when you get the chance? I just know if this was about Jeanette, or one of my sisters, or someone else in my family or what have you… I don’t know. I just can sense the fragility that they’re left with right now. This is a big project, y’know, and they can tell! They don’t even know anythin’ about it and they can tell. They deserve to be treated with some humanity. It’s a lot to ask, I know, but… One was a girl. Sixteen or seventeen, maybe eighteen at most? The other had a little boy. I just… I can’t in good conscience let them sit without some answers. You already know how much that M.J. kid pulls at my heartstrings, and they’re grown! 

Just consider it, Em. These are real people. Real families. And they’re countin’ on you, hun. I don’t have the standing to do anything, but you do. I just emailed you their phone numbers and names. Reach out if you can. I’m gonna look into that Dawkins case some more tonight, I think. Have a good evening. Kisses.

[Marsha sighs.]

[sfx: voicemail beep]

VIOLA Message 9: Addressed to Receptionist Marsha Francis. December 27, 2093. 10:58 PM.

[sfx: voicemail beep]

ARCHIE Oh, whatever could this be? A freshly submitted HR report?

[sfx: Jiminy produces the sound of an audience gasping]

[sfx: shuffling and tapping of papers]

ARCHIE (CON’T) Now, I don’t typically respond to these funny little things, but this one really caught my eye! Y’know, you and I, Marshy poo, have always been very similar, I think. I like you a lot, Mrs. Francis, I do! I really, really do! So I think you’ll understand the little twinge I felt in my chest, oh so painful, when I caught a glimpse of this silly little thing on Ms. Lacount’s desk.

[sfx: Jiminy generates the sound of the world’s saddest violin]

ARCHIE You wouldn’t be doing anything to taint company face, would you, Marsha Marsha Marsha?

[Archie laughs after a moment, delighted]

No, of course not! 

[sfx: Jiminy produces the sound of an audience cheering]

ARCHIE (CON’T) Of course not, you’d never do anything like that. You’re a loyal, dedicated employee.

Right?

Right! Well, call me when you can, I’d like to discuss this sometime. Just as I’ve got that heavy focus in Company Portrayal, y’see, I need to make sure our associates are sticking to the fine print and not harming our branding in any way! I’m sure you understand. Alrighty then. Toodles!

[sfx: Jiminy produces various cues indicating a goodbye]

[sfx: voicemail beep]

VIOLA Message 10: Addressed to Dr. Emily Macey. January 1st, 2094. 3:01 

LADY Good morning, Emily. Just popping in with the Season’s Greetings.

There’s something magical about the New Year, isn’t there? You’d think with all of our calendar troubles across establishments that it would have lost some of its charm, but as we do with all things, we’ve kept it in shape. The snowfall is rather picturesque outside of this window. Any revelry has faded out by this hour. Only those of enough mind and ambition to appreciate the wee hours of a blank slate, of change, of a birth, if you’d like, find themselves awake. You are awake, aren’t you? Happy New Year, Emily. Here’s to the big year ahead. 

VIOLA End of selected voicemail messages. JASON (impersonating Mr. Lacount) I would drink to that. 

VIOLA May I ask why you gave me these instructions, Mr. Lacount?

JASON (impersonating Mr. Lacount) “Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die”.

VIOLA Of course, sir.

[sfx: Viola powers off]

[sfx: retreating footsteps, door opens and the coffee is spilled]

[Jason yells.] ***

[sfx: a phone dialling]

WOMAN Find anything?

MR. LACOUNT (over phone) Oh, much. But first, if you’ll humor me enough to listen to these…

WOMAN Tapes? What are those from, the 20th century?

MR. LACOUNT (over phone) Last year, actually. Just listen.

[sfx: inserting a tape into a tape deck]

***

[Miles’ voice sounds considerably younger, this memory being from a number of years ago.]

NORA Pass me that one, honey.

MILES This one?

NORA Mm-hmm.

MILES It’s from me.

NORA Oh, perfect. Those are my favorite kinds of gifts.She shakes the box lightly, and then opens it.

[sfx: shaking the box lightly]

NORA (CON’T) Oh, Miles, you shouldn’t have!

SHAWN The hell is that?

NORA Shawn… 

Go on, Miles, you can explain it to him if you’d like.

MILES It’s fine, Mom, it’s not his gift.

SHAWN It looks like a piece of trash to me.

NORA I think it’s perfect. The yellow accents, the–

[sfx: button pressed, a noise is generated by the gift]

NORA (CON’T) Amazing! Miles, your little inventions just keep getting better and better! 

SHAWN Don’t encourage this, Nora.

MILES Thanks, Mom.

NORA Stop it, Shawn. You really need to… 

[The tape fades out.]

***

[Miles sounds to be their usual age.]

MILES -wasn’t really a fan of my gift giving, anyways. Plus, I haven’t really got a reason to celebrate anymore, y’know? EMILY I understand. I was the same way when I was your age. Then I… well, I told you that story. With, er—

MILES Barf, yes, I remember.

EMILY Right. But after we… you know-

[Miles gags.]

MILES Spare me those details please, Em-

[Emily laughs.]

EMILY You, you are a pain! After we split, effectively, I went back to… This, I suppose. 

MILES That’s surprising, honestly.

EMILY Is it?

MILES Sort of. Not sure why, but… They shrug.

EMILY I see… the hot chocolate is good though, yes?

MILES Oh, hell yes. 

[Miles takes a sip.]

MILES (CON’T) By the way, thanks for letting me know ahead of time about training last week. Alex would’ve had my ass if you didn’t tell me to look over those…

[The tape fades out.]

***

WOMAN Pardon me for my lack of enthusiasm, but I am still confused as to why I am wasting my time with… tapes?

[sfx: loading the tape deck]

***

ALEX (whispering) Oh. My God.

GABRIEL (whispering) How does it look?

ALEX It looks… great. Very red.

GABRIEL Jolly?

ALEX You could say that. He’s fast asleep in his room, you know, I’m not sure this is entirely necessary.

GABRIEL Sure it’s necessary. 

ALEX Mm…

GABRIEL Think about the cookies! The milk, the candy canes, the stockings hung with care? A job for Saint Nick, methinks.

ALEX Gabe…

GABRIEL Come on, it’s fun!

ALEX It’s 1 AM… 

GABRIEL It’s Christmas! If you really think about it, you can thank that Dr. Macey from your work for this. She’s the one who gave you the opportunity to be a part of this in the first place.

ALEX Sure… can we not bring up work right now?

GABRIEL … Right. Right. Well, what are you waiting for, get the camera!

ALEX God…

[The tape fades out.]

***

MR. LACOUNT (over phone) Do you understand now?

WOMAN Right! Yes, of course! I can see oh-so-clearly that this is not robbing me of precious hours. I understand with full clarity.

[sfx: loading the tape deck]

***

MINERVA So that’s it? You’re just not going to say anything?

ATHENA Minerva, we’ve discussed this over and over and over again, alright, legally I cannot.

MINERVA Why? I’m blood.

ATHENA Blood isn’t enough.

MINERVA Blood isn’t enough? You favor the law over your sister?

ATHENA It’s not favoring, Minnie, I never said that! I just can’t. I need this job, I— we can’t afford to lose it.

MINERVA You’ve been under Omni-Corp’s toe since you were 16, Athena! You—

ATHENA It was different then. 

MINERVA You know what? Yeah! Sure, that’s true! Back then, you came home at night. You told me what you were doing.

ATHENA Things can change.

MINERVA I just want you to stop lying to me.

ATHENA Lying?! When have I ever—

MINERVA Dr. Macey told me everything.

ATHENA … What?

MINERVA She told me everything, like how you have been… 

***

[sfx: the tape is popped out of the deck]

WOMAN Hm…

MR. LACOUNT (over phone) Do you see now?

WOMAN This is… interesting… Elaborate, please. 

***

ANNOUNCER Micro-Cosmos: A Science Fiction Podcast.

This mini-episode, The Fire is Slowly Dying, was written by Jesse Smith, edited by Lauren Tucker and Luka Miller, and directed by Jesse Smith and Lauren Tucker. It starred Jayce Pelletier as Viola, M. Furch as Octavia, Sivan Raz as Jeanette Francis, Jackson Rossman as Miles Abbott, Luka Miller as Marsha Francis and Alex de la Cruz, Mae Sokolik as Minerva Romero, Jesse Smith as Athena Romero, Kaleb Piper as Felix Couvillion, Oscar “Tumbleweed Tom” Ramos, Jr., as Gabriel de la Cruz, Lauren Tucker as Dr. Emily Macey, Nikki Paige as Nora Abbott, Colin Tucker as Shawn Abbott, and Griffin Berlstein as Archie Armstrong, with additional voices by Billie Willett, Emma Johanna Puranen, and Briar Zachary. Original music by Julia Barnes, and sound editing by Jesse Smith. Be sure to stay tuned to our feed for upcoming episodes from the new backpacking intergalactic adventure from Futuristic Trail Mix Productions. Keep an eye on updates to the show's hiatus on our social medias. Enjoying the show, and want to give us a boost? You can support us by rating and reviewing us on iTunes, or wherever you get your podcasts, or telling a friend about us. To follow the show and find transcripts, you can find us on Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram as @MicroCosPod. Questions, comments, and concerns can be emailed to us via futuretrailmixpros@gmail.com. Thank you for listening.

[wlfkssd]

Midnight Caller

based on the prompt ‘hvithelred + midnight / early morning hugs’ sent in by @issadoragreen <3

summary : after a rough week, and with hvitserk not answering his calls, aethelred (thel) visits the lothbrok house at midnight to see him.

warnings : smoking, brief mention of ragnar yelling at hvitserk, mentions of divorce and a bad impression of gimli from lotr. a little bit of angst, not much though.

pairing : hvitserk x aethelred. small appearances from alfred, rollo, ubbe. as well as a tiny flirtation between ubbe and thel. 

words : 2,380.

notes : aethelred is referred to as thel a lot in this fic. just because it’s a little more modern.

The dial tone continues in its monotony and Thel shakes his head, lowering the phone from his ear before he hangs it up again. He stares at the screen and his brows instinctively pull close and tight.

Why aren't you picking up, Hvitserk?

"Any luck?" Alfred, his younger brother, stands in the doorway. He looks anxious; hands buried so deep into the single, long pocket of the oversized, borrowed hoodie to keep him from picking at his fingers in worry.

"No. It just keeps ringing." Thel's defeated and to pretend otherwise would be idiotic. Perhaps Hvitserk doesn't want to talk to him. Perhaps he doesn't want to see him anymore. "I should go over there and see if he's alright."

"At this time of night? What would mum say?"

That's hardly a threat and they both know it. Life at home hasn't always been plain sailing, especially with Alfred's illness and the fact that it's clear he's the favourite. But Thel doesn't mind. Quite the contrary; sometimes that leaves him free to do just about whatever he likes without much fear of repercussions.

Still, this? Maybe his brother is right. It's no time to be showing up unannounced.

"You're right, Alfie." That garners a smile from Alfred - nickname having been with him, practically since birth - and he turns to leave for his own room just as the dial tone strikes back into life.

Some seconds pass, long and unnecessary in Thel's opinion. He can only imagine what the excuse will be.

"Hello?" Ubbe's voice is quiet, softer even than usual and something about it sends a tingling jolt straight up Thel's spine. They're best friends - more like brothers, really - but some things just can't be denied.

"Is Hvitserk alright? He's not answering his phone."

There's a silence and Thel hears the heavy sigh come through loud and clear. In fact, it's far too close to the receiver for comfort.

"Our father came home." Four short words that set the scene for the whole conversation and the coming night. So easily let out and yet their weight now holds itself in the space between the two boys. "He has a way of speaking that isn't always what you would call nice."

And that's putting it lightly. In truth, Ragnar had come home after three long years of globe-trotting and demanded to know which of his sons intended to take over their family business. It was sudden and off-putting and had ruined the last of everyone's Sunday night.

He'd barely spoken to Ivar, choosing instead to focus on Ubbe and Bjørn as his successors. And why not? They are the oldest of his sons. Why wouldn't they want to inherit his empire, his wealth, his standing in Scandinavian society?

Because, for one, Ubbe had told him, he was still in school and wanted very much to become something other than what had come before him. Bjørn had said much the same; giving details that he was going into business with their uncle Floki for a while.

That left Hvitserk and Sigurd and being faced with a father he hadn't seen for years, yelling into his face and asking if he's man enough, wasn't the ideal reunion.

It also explains exactly why none of the brothers have been at school for the past two days. Now Thel understands and his heart eases off its hammering just a little.

"Do you think Hvitserk would see me, if I came over there?"

For the first time in the conversation, Ubbe seems to relax. The sigh slips into something more amused and he hums, lowly. "I think so, yes. It's a shame you like him so much. I could use someone like you right now. Calling at midnight and asking to come over, just to see me."

Shame indeed. Were it not for the fact of Ubbe's younger brother's charm, Thel might have eventually fallen out of friendship and into love with him, instead. But both know it's not to be and there's a moment of comfortable silence.

"I'm on my way, then."

They hang up and Thel takes a deep breath, relieved that the sudden silence isn't anything he's done.

Dressing warmly, Thel makes his way down the stairs and out into the night with a single thought; how can he cheer up his boyfriend?

Several different ideas run through his mind as he walks the short distance from one house to the other. He could pick a flower from each of the gardens on the way and present them to Hvitserk. He could jog to the 24-hour corner shop and buy him some sweets or a large bag of popcorn. Or he could just bring himself and the space between his waiting arms that so perfectly encompasses the one he's chosen to show and give his heart to.

That sounds about right. Sappy as it is.

Coming to the Lothbrok house, Thel slows and considers his ways of entrance.

Knocking on the front door is definitely out. That's far too obvious, isn't it? Plus, he doesn't know who might be sleeping. There is a light on in the living room but the windows blinds are all the way down and disturbing whoever is inside might not end well. Especially if it's Ragnar.

As he's standing there, looking at the house, a throat clears and sends him almost out of his skin.

"Staring won't get you anywhere." Flame of a lighter flickers into life and, for a few seconds, the identity of the voice shows itself. Then it's gone. Thel stands his ground, though, relief filling his veins now instead of fear.

"And scaring the shit out of teenagers won't get you anywhere, either."

Tongue kisses teeth in a gesture of disappointment at the language and Rollo stands up, causing the lamp above the side door to come on, illuminating him. The sterile shade reminds Thel of a hospital.

"What are you doing here, Aethelred?" Rollo asks on the exhale of his cigarette, smoke blown in a steady stream as his eyes focus on the boy before him. "It's a little late for studying, isn't it?" His expression holds so much knowing.

"I'm here to see Hvitserk." And that's all the explanation he's going to give.

"So it's true then? The two of you-" Rollo cuts himself off as he takes another drag on the cigarette, which now looks as though it's due to be snubbed out any moment. He holds in the smoke to delay but lets it out as he comes closer, towering over Thel the way one does when he should be feared.

Flicking away the cigarette gives a single notion.

Threat.

Instead though, it's an embrace that passes between them. A hefty one in which Thel is lifted quite literally off of his feet. And a hearty laugh bellows uncaring from Rollo's chest, still rumbling as he lets go and claps both hands to the teen's shoulders, looking him over.

"You're both terrible at hiding things, you know. Anyone with eyes can see your affection for each other." Maybe in the dark it's easier for him to say things like this; the veil of night covering all manner of distress at discussing affairs of the heart. Lagertha and Siggy have both torn him apart in their own ways but love spreads just as much as anything else. "Now," he sniffs and clears his throat, squeezing one of Thel's shoulders. "Do you need help getting into his window?"

"What?" What, indeed. Thel blinks up at Rollo, brows coming together as they had earlier over the screen of his mobile phone. "I was going to use the front door." He lies and hopes it's convincing.

It isn't.

"Nonsense. You English need to have more adventure." Rollo observes, all the while leading Thel towards the overhang beneath Hvitserk's bedroom window.

They come to stand, looking up at it together. From on the ground, it doesn't seem too daunting but Thel isn't keen on breaking a bone when he's got a big game at the end of the week.

"You expect me to climb up there?" Thel shakes his head, wishing he had asked Ubbe to wait up and let him in. Better than risking life and limb for the sake of adventure. In fact, he's sure Hvitserk would prefer he arrive in once piece and upset Ragnar than show up and immediately have to spend the next day and a half in the hospital with him because he fell.

"Come on. I'll help you."

Bending at the knees, Rollo widens his stance and lays his hands palms up in front of him, interlocking his fingers. He gestures for Thel to come closer with a jerk of his chin. Silently his eyes say he'll never forgive Thel if he doesn't find the courage to at least try it.

"Oh, fine. Fine." Thel huffs and, putting one hand firmly on Rollo's shoulder, he lifts a foot and places it into the waiting hands. One swift motion sees him launched up and onto the overhang. No problem whatsoever.

Rollo gives him a thumbs up for good luck and disappears, presumably to smoke some more.

Then it's just a glass pane that separates him from the one he loves. It feels strange to think, let alone to say, especially given that each of them is so young but, apparently, when you know, you know. And he knows.

Crawling on his hands and knees, uncaring as to the scuff to his black jeans, Thel gets close enough to see his own breath fog up the window and he pauses to peer inside. One hand cups over his eyes, blocking out the light of a nearby streetlamp.

Hvitserk is on his bed, curled around his blanket. One leg on top, one beneath. He wears only a pair of bottoms - Thel's, he notices. They're a loose fit and black and the pull strings are frayed from years of play and fretting. They're old but, somehow, Hvitserk makes them new. He makes everything new; vibrant.

The catch is unlocked so he doesn't even have to struggle with it before he's pushing up the window and slipping through. Hvitserk would say he's like Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible but that's difficult to believe.

Cool air moves the curtains and breathes life into what is otherwise a morbidly still room. Hvitserk's mobile phone lays dormant on his bed, placed in the concave created by his rounded position. As though he just watched Thel calling and calling and chose to ignore it.

No.

Maybe he couldn't bring himself to answer. Shock does strange things to people. Aethelred's own parents almost divorced when his father found out Alfred wasn't his. But they worked through things, eventually. So he's all-too-aware of just how debilitating that emotion can be.

"Hvitserk?" Thel whispers into the dark. It's the softest he's ever spoken and thinks, perhaps, he didn't actually make any sound at all. So, he tries again, not wanting to startle Hvitserk too much if he wakes.

"Mmm?" The noise is an obvious sign of exhaustion and Hvitserk doesn't turn over, immediately. He clearly thinks it's one of his brothers; come to disturb what little sleep he's managed these past few days. "What is it, Ubbe?"

Chancing the gesture, Thel sits on the side of the bed and tentatively lowers a hand onto Hvitserk's exposed shoulder. "It isn't Ubbe. It's me."

"Hello... me." For the first time in days, Hvitserk smiles. His eyes are still closed but that simple touch to his shoulder - naked skin prickling at it - is enough to lift his spirits from even the deepest of depths. "How did you-?"

"Your window was unhooked. I've told you about leaving it that way. Strangers could get in." The hand moves from bare skin to sandy braids and Thel's long fingers gently sweep through, earning him a contented sigh.

A contented sigh that precedes Hvitserk's eyes opening heavily. He blinks, adjusting to the light. "Did you climb up here?" His brows furrow at the thought and he turns over fully now, onto his back. The side of Thel's face that is visible looks to be smiling but it's hard to tell.

"Your uncle tossed me." Doing his best impression of Gimli, Thel ducks his face and laughs. It's almost silent but the moment is one of utter closeness, despite the humour, and after a minute, even that dies away, leaving nothing but the gaze of a sad boy looking into the face of the one he knows can rescue him.

Abruptly, Hvitserk embraces Aethelred's waist; not sitting fully but no longer laying as still and placid as he had been.

"I'm sorry I didn't answer you before. My father-" The very fact that Hvitserk buries his face tells them both all they need to know about the life of that conversation. It needs to be cut short.

"Ubbe told me everything. So you don't have to explain."

It isn't made clear exactly what it is Hvitserk has to do but by the way Thel directs him steadily with a hand at the back of his neck, the other having moved now from soft hair to rubbing at the space between his shoulder blades, and kisses him, it doesn't appear to be anything too taxing. Just be kissed. Even he can manage that now.

For a long moment, there's nothing in the world but them and it's blissful. All the heavy decisions in their futures and all the things they've done wrong in the past just melt into nothing. They're living for the moment.

Lips leave their tender mark on one another as Thel pulls away, briefly, nose bumping Hvitserk's, along with a touch of their foreheads to bring about the signal of parting. Not that it lasts long. Tiredly, Hvitserk shuffles further towards the wall, letting the blanket tangle itself even tighter into his legs and Thel kicks off his shoes and strips down to his shorts.

As they get comfortable, skin presses against bed-warmed skin; the soft, downy hair of Thel's soft tummy tickling the small of Hvitserk's back. Naturally, a groping hand reaches and finds an arm to pull over and a hand to hold in the darkness. The same lips, too, now part and breathe as one, chests rising and falling together.

"Will you stay until I fall asleep?" The question comes around a yawn and Hvitserk hugs Thel closer to him, looking back briefly and offering himself up for another kiss. Aethelred gives it, freely, leaning in for a series of small, affectionate pecks. Each brings about a satisfied sigh.

"I will stay until you fall asleep."

[dahliawolfe]

Something More

CSI NY fanfic

Danny Messer/OFC

The buzzing of her cell woke her. Grunting, Nora reached for the phone and flipped it open.

“Hello,” she rasped.

“Nora, we’ve got a case,” Mac Taylor said, no preamble.

“Gotcha, Dad. Text me the address, please,” she swung her legs over the side of the bed and snapped the phone shut, throwing it onto the nightstand. She hurried into a pair of jeans from the floor and turned to look back at the bed. “Yo, Messer! Up and at ‘em! We got a case,” she demanded, throwing a balled up sock at Danny’s head. She and Danny had been fooling around for a few weeks now. When a case was stressful (and they usually were) they met up and blew off steam. She’d known Danny for nearly 6 years, and he was her best friend. It was strictly no strings attached when they hooked up.

“Lemme sleep,” Danny begged tiredly. They had been up until after 2 a.m. working on finishing up a case. It was now a little after 6.

“No can do. Boss man called himself.” She slid into her lace black bralette and grabbed the first discarded t-shirt she could reach. She shoved her feet into her boots and stood. “Lock up, will ya? See ya there.” Danny gave her a limp wave from the bed, and she snorted. She threw her leather jacket around her shoulders and made her way down to her Tahoe.

…

The Crestmont loomed in front of her, and Nora took a second to peer up. This place had always given her the creeps. Shaking herself, she made her way inside, flashing her badge at the patrol officer out front. She made her way to the elevator, taking it all the way to the 15 floor. She could smell the latex and print powder as she stepped out of the doors. She smiled. It smelled like home. Even before Nora became an investigator herself, her dad had been doing the job, and he always came home smelling like the tools of the trade.

“Nora, over here,” Flack called, waving her over. She nodded and made her way carefully across the penthouse suite.

“What have we got” she questioned, grabbing gloves from her kit and snapping them on.

“Alexander Trenton. He was a judge. On his way to the Supreme Court.” Nora whistled and stooped to take a look at the body.

“Looks like a through and through. Execution style,” she remarked, standing up.

“Is that Danny’s shirt?” Flack questioned, wrinkling his forehead in confusion.

She froze and glanced down at herself. It was indeed Danny’s shirt.

“Oh, yeah. I spilled coffee on myself last night. He lent it to me, and it was just what I threw on this morning on the way out the door.” The lie was easy enough. She needed to be more careful.

“Hmm. Well, you might wanna change before Mac gets here.”

“Where is Father Dearest, anyway?”

“Mayor wanted a word.” Nora rolled her eyes.

“Of course.”

“You guys start the party without me?!” Danny demanded, coming out of the elevator carrying 3 coffees.

“Fashionably late, as always,” Nora teased, grabbing her camera to document the scene.

…

Nora was leaned over the desk in the print lab when someone spoke behind her.

“Detective Eleanor Taylor?”

“Nora,” she replied, placing her file down and turning around, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the light table.

“We would like a word,” replied the man; obviously a federal agent of some sort.

“We can talk in my office,” Mac replied, coming out of nowhere. He led the two agents and Nora to his office, where he shut the door.

“What’s this about?” Nora asked. She didn’t have time for their bureaucratic crap.

The second agent pulled out a file and passed it to Nora. “We believe you know this man.”

Nora opened the file and felt her stomach tighten. “Jared Weston,” she said, the words threatening to choke her.

“Yes. You attended North Peak Academy with him, did you not?”

“That was years ago. Why are you here? I haven’t seen him in 7 years.”

Another file was handed to her. She flicked through it briefly, spotting bloody crime scenes and pages of notes on victims. “Okay?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“In the last 6 months, 6 judges, 3 military personnel, and 4 police have been murdered from Virginia, to Boston, to Delaware. The M.O. is all the same. And all evidence points to someone with a serious grudge against the government.” Nora felt the blood leave her body. She thought he was just an angry kid. Mad at his parents. She never thought he’d do anything like this.

“If you know all of this. And you have evidence against him, why are you here?”

“We’re always one step behind, but we got a lead on his next victim.”

“Judge Trenton?” she questioned, feeling the pieces fall into place. The agents shared a confused face.

“We thought he was a possible target, but Detective Taylor, we think you’re his next target.”

“Me?! What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Weston has it out for you. We found his manifestoes on our last case. He talks about how you betrayed him. And how you’re worse than any of the others.”

“Betrayed him how?” Mac asked, speaking for the first time.

Nora swallowed against a dry throat. “I need a minute,” she croaked, slamming out of the room, and making her way as quickly as possible to the roof, bending over, roughly hugging herself in a demand for oxygen.

“Nora!” came the call, as Danny joined her on the roof. “Hey. Hey. It’s ok. What happened?” he demanded, pulling her into his chest.

“We were kids! We were scared! And we were pissed that our parents sent us to a fucking military academy! That place was hell, Danny, and he was the only bright spot of it! How the hell does this happen?!”

“Ok. Ok. Shhh. It’s ok. I’m right here. I gotcha.” He held her close, rocking her gently until she could breathe again. When he deemed it safe, he pulled her away a pushed a stray curl out of her face. “Now, tell me. What happened in there.”

“Jared went to North Peak too. And we bonded. His mom and dad were both in the military. And he hated them for sending him away to be trained to be like them. And I was mad and Mac for sending me away to a military school upstate. I felt like he didn’t want me. Like I was a fuck up and he wanted to get rid of me and have something better. So, we would sit behind the bleachers and smoke cigarettes and drink beer and rage against the machine. I thought it was all just angsty teenage bullshit. Then the towers were hit. And Claire was gone. And I was devasted. She was the only mom I’d ever known. And she was gone. And I was scared. I was so angry, Danny. I remember just screaming at the stars and demanding to know why any of that bullshit had happened to us. And Jared, Jared sat with me all night and screamed too. And the next morning, Mac came and took me home to finish my senior year at St. Agatha’s. And I never saw Jared again. Truth be told, I didn’t want to. He reminded me of how ungrateful, and angry, and hurt I was, and I didn’t want that. But then I became a cop. And I betrayed him. I left him. And I don’t know what happened to him. But now he kills people, Danny. And he wants to kill me. And hell, maybe I deserve that.”

“Hey! Look at me!” Grabbing her chin, Danny forced her to look up at him. “You do not deserve that. You were a child! And he was sick! And none of that was your fault! You did not do this! He did! You hear me?!” He pressed a firm but gentle kiss to her lips then her forehead and pulled her close again.    

…

“We want to put you on 24-hour protection detail,” the FBI agent informed her, once she had relayed her story to them.

“We can do that in house,” Mac stated, folding his arms over his chest. He knew his people could protect his daughter better than the feds ever could. She was one of their own, and they took care of their own.

“I’ll do it,” Danny quickly stated, jumping into the conversation. He’d followed her back inside when she’d finally gained the courage to come in.

“Ok, who else can take a shift?” the agent asked, raising a brow at Mac.

“No, I mean I can be with her 24/7 until we catch this guy,” Danny said, standing straighter. The agent snorted, but Mac nodded.

“Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Roger, Boss.”

…

Nora tossed her keys into the bowl by the front door and kicked her boots off. It had been a hell of a day, and she needed a drink and a hot bath.

“I’m making myself a rum and coke and I’m gonna sit in a hot bath for an undetermined amount of time. Make yourself at home,” she informed, stripping her tee off and throwing it somewhere to her left.

“Pizza tonight?” Danny asked, leaning over to look into the fridge.

“Sure. Extra cheese.”

͠

By the time Nora made it to the bathroom, she was down to her underwear. She had a cold glass of Bicardi and coke, which she sat down beside her claw foot tub, turning the water on, making sure it was hot enough, and adding some mint soak. After putting some music on her record player, she slid into the warm bubbles, sinking up to her neck. She sighed, feeling at least some of the day’s tension melt away.

͠

Danny peeked into the bathroom, admiring Nora. She looked like a goddess, head laid back, surrounded by bubbles, singing softly to the Frank Sinatra playing in the background.

“See something you like, Messer?” she teased, opening one eye and raising her brow at him.

“Very much so,” Danny replied, coming in to kneel by the tub, dipping his finger under the water. “But, pizza’s here.”

“Mmm. Good, I’m starving. Give me five, and I’ll be out.”

“Sure thing.” Before leaving, Danny leaned down and gave Nora a deep kiss. “Don’t keep me waiting,” he urged, heading back to the living area.

͠

When Nora emerged, she was wearing nothing but an overly large Led Zepplin t-shirt and a pair of black boyshorts. Danny had already set up the tv to reruns of The Golden Girls and had the pizza box open with a beer bottle on each side of the table. He gave her a grin. “Your feast, ma’am,” he joked, bowing for effect.

“Why thank you, sir. Truly, you do provide.” Nora took a seat on the couch, snagging the blue wool blanket from Danny’s end, snatching a slice of pizza, and hooking a beer with her ring finger and pinkie. Danny settled in close, lazily slinging his arm over her shoulder and sitting back with his own slice.

͠

“Fuck, Danny! Don’t stop!” Nora moaned, looking down to catch Danny giving her a cheeky wink, delving even deeper into his ministrations. And Nora was almost there, but then someone knocked on the door.

“Nora, it’s Flack!”

“Fuck!” she hissed, pushing Danny away from between her legs. “C-coming, Flack!”

“Two words you don’t really wanna hear when going down on your girl,” Danny commented, wiping his face off on the duvet. Nora frowned.

“Shut it, Messer. Your girl?” She huffed, standing to locate her discarded underwear, tossing Danny his jeans and making her way to the front door. She checked to make sure Danny was decent before unlocking the door and opening it.

“Flack, what’s up? It’s late, man?”

“Nora, there’s another vic. Mac wanted me to come pick you guys up.”

“Shit. Ok, let me get my pants.”

͠

“Jeffrey Conrad. 57. He’s an ex-homicide detective from Brooklyn,” Mac informed the second Nora got out of Flack’s car.

“Conrad? Why does that name sound familiar?” Nora questioned, grabbing a pair of gloves, ducking under the crime scene tape. Mac handed her a picture. It was of a greying man in a uniform. “Wait, Conrad. There was a kid at North Peak. Tyler…Tommy…”

“Trevor?” Mac replied.

“Yes! That’s it. Trevor, he was in our class. He killed himself a couple of years ago, I think.” Nora sighed, rubbing her temples. “He was always telling anyone who would listen how much of a bastard his dad was. I guess Jared blamed Trevor’s death on his dad.” Mac frowned. Nora could see that this case was wearing at him too. She tried not to give him a hard time. He was a single dad just trying to do what was best. And she knew he loved her, but she also knew how hellish North Peak had been. She gently touched her father’s arm. “Hey, listen. I know why you sent me to North Peak. I’m fine. Those other kids, their parents were terrible to them, but you weren’t like that to me. You and…” she gulped. “And Claire, you guys gave me a lot of good opportunities. You did your best. And I…I don’t blame you for anything.” Mac gave her a sad smile and nodded.

“I shouldn’t have sent you away. I’m sorry, Nora.” She gave him as soft smile.

“Mac! Nora!” Stella called from across the room. Sharing a brief glance at each other, Mac and Nora walked quickly to her side.

“What did you find, Stella?” Stella handed her a sealed envelope.

“It has your name on it.”

[fanartfunart]

Prom Date

Me: *listens to Prom Dress by Mxmtoon* ...Ah, time to write a fic.

Summery: Logan’s at prom. Alone. Roman’s gonna fix that whether Logan likes it or not. 

Ships: Platonic all around basically, w/ emphasis on the platonic Logince & miss-it-if-you-blink implied pining Dukeceit. (It’s not like, shippy-shippy, but there’s some mild flirtation & talk of crushes.... if you’d like, please feel free to imagine that it turns into Analogince or LAMP eventually, because that’d be where it would headed. >w<)

Warnings: Um, being lonely? Hh, Remus is an absolute dork who intends to do a prank?? ....idk man, I think it turned away from the key inspiration a bit and turned fairly cute for the most part.

Words: 1751

-

The clouds were a hazy orange as dusk fell over the courtyard. The air was brisk and cool now. The muggy heat of summer only just at its start.

Logan tugged at his tie, adjusting it for what must’ve been the hundredth time this night. Half his suit was borrowed, the blazer a different shade of black from his slacks. Awkwardly tight across his shoulders and chest.

Music was blaring at a level that was certainly harmful to one’s hearing. If he could hear it from out here, the doors closed, it must be absolutely deafening inside. How could anyone hear themselves in there? Logan was clearly much saner than the rest of the crowd for having migrated outside.

Logan let out a huff, fixing his hair back. (For perhaps the 15th time tonight. Surely it was messier now than before he began fixing it back). 

Prom.

Boring when you’ve got nobody to go with.

He glanced back towards the inside of the building, lights flashing and dizzying. Shadows of people dancing- having fun. He turned his head to look at the early stars of the night. This was stupid. He didn’t like the social climate of traditional high school, why would he ever agree to go to their prom?

That was the thing, wasn’t it? It was Their prom. He was just an intruder none of these people had seen since middle school. He groaned and leaned his head against the wall. God even the wall was vibrating from the music. How could any of them stand it?

The music was briefly allowed outside as the door opened, and Logan sat up, excuses ready on his tongue if it was a chaperone who was supposed to keep them inside.

Instead it was an individual he didn’t recognize. (however, Logan was rather confident that the groups he once knew were busy with their prom.) 

Their attire was… interesting. Possibly homemade, now that he inspected the shimmering golden embroidery, swirling on the draped skirt swishing around their ankles and the dress shirt cuffs. The mostly white outfit was accented with a red vest peeking out from under the unbuttoned white blazer. A corsage that nearly held the whole rainbow in flowers was tied around their wrist in a way that only half-worked with the ensemble. Eccentric. That was the word for it.

They swore under their breath, glancing back through the windows as if searching for someone… that they were avoiding. 

They finally glanced at Logan, blinking rapidly. “Oh.” 

A polite smile flickered across Logan’s face, although he was rather more inclined to ask them why they were so inclined to interrupt his silence, he uttered a polite, “Hello.”

“How long have you been out here?” The individual opted to ask, pleasantries apparently the least of their problems. 

“Approximately 30 minutes,” Logan responded, pushing his hair back and adjusting his glasses, he glanced back through the window, “Why did you come out here?”

They sighed so heavily Logan was mildly concerned they had expelled the entirety of their lung’s capacity. “I needed an escape from my brother.” They gestured at the bench Logan had taken to himself, and he shifted so they could sit next to him.

“What about you, what’ve you been doing out here for the past 30ish minutes?”

“Um. Thinking, I suppose.” Logan gestured towards the building, “It’s loud.”

“Is it?” The individual tilted their head, “Must be used to it.” They leaned back on their palms, glancing at Logan, green eyes examining every inch of Logan’s face. “Have I seen you around before?”

“Unlikely,” Logan huffed, “I’m Homeschooled.”

They hummed, “Nah, I think I know you from somewhere- I’m good with faces- admittedly bad with names- but!” they gestured to the whole of Logan’s face, “Good with faces!” 

“Ah, so I assume that’s why you never mentioned your name then?” 

“Oh! I’m Roman-” they-Roman, threw out a hand and Logan glanced them over before accepting the hand.

“Logan. He/him pronouns.”

“Oh, frick, pronouns are a thing-” Logan laughed, taking his hand back to cover his smile. Roman let out a gasp, “Hey, don’t hide that shining smile, it just made you 5% cuter!”

Logan quirked a brow, “Only 5%?”

“Well, you were already cute, and I need to give all the rest of your features a percentage of the pie.”

“That’s not how percentages work in that context; but, I’ll take it. Clearly the classic brick and mortar schooling system has done you a disservice.”

“Who doesn’t it do a disservice to?” Roman scoffed.

Logan shrugged, eyes flickering over the other, “Returning to the previous topic of introductions, pronouns?”

Roman glanced over Logan, smiling a little lopsided- Logan might presume they were a little nervous if he was confident at all at understanding emotions. “They/them is preferable.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Roman’s smile grew. A small silence followed. A timid space where each of them were searching for something to say. 

Roman’s eyes lit up, “Oh, wait, Logan-”

“Yes, that is indeed my name.”

“Logan Sanders?”

“That is the other half of my name-” Logan tilted his head, raising a brow.

“You’re that mysterious nerd who dominated the debate club in like, 8th grade, aren’t you! Virgil complained about you a whole year, and then complained about another two years after you dropped.” 

Logan glanced up at the stars, taking a breath of the cold air. “I, hadn’t considered anybody would have- cared enough when I stopped.”

Roman laughed, “To be honest, I think he had a tiny crush.” Roman’s nose crinkled up when they smiled, bright and wide, “I can see the appeal.”

A soft “Oh” is all that left Logan’s lips, feeling the hint of warmth rush to his face. Out of embarrassment or from the compliment he wasn’t entirely sure.

The music intruded on the quiet space again. “Excuse me, but shouldn’t you two be inside?”

Roman spun, eyes wide. They clutched their chest, and laughed, bright and boisterous, “Pat! You scared me!”

Patton raised his hands, “What? You’re not supposed to be outside, you’ll get in trouble!” 

“Well there’s hardly anything they can do at this point. We’re graduating soon. It’s not as if we’re doing anything wrong in of itself, and I don’t even go here-”

“Ohmygods he doesn’t even go here,” Roman whispered.

“I have no idea why you found that amusing, it is simply true.”

“Well it’s cold out here- oh and Remus is looking for you, said he needed you to help him with something?”

“He wants me to help him slime the prom royalty because he likes the Prom King and doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

Patton glanced back through the doorway, “Oh geez-”

“He can’t do it without me, I hid the slime and I doubt he’ll be able to scavenge more unless he gets real creative. He might dump water on them though and somehow blame me when he gets in trouble. Virgil’s supposed to be watching him anyway.”

“Still!” Patton squealed, promptly turning heel, to, Logan assumed, find one or more of the involved parties.

Logan’s eyes flickered over the door as it shut again, and he curled his legs against his chest.

Roman leaned back again, eyes looking up to the sky. “Have you had a chance to dance yet?”

Logan shook his head, “Again, homeschooled, loud. Not- This isn’t my usual scene.”

They nodded, “What’s the usual scene then?”

A far away look fell over Logan’s features, inspecting the stars. “I don’t think I really have one.”

Roman huffed, “You’re starting to sound like Virge. You two would get along, I think.”

Logan practically whispered in response, “A bit late to be making highschool friends.” A laugh bit through the quiet. Logan turned to glance over at them, “Did I say something amusing?”

“Sorry, it’s just- Better late than never, sometimes, right?”

“Well it’s bound to fail after we go to college, as most relationships do when stressed by a decrease of face to face communication and communication overall.”

“Mm, sounds like somebody’s just scared.”

Logan turned sharply to stare at the eccentrically dressed teen, leveling a glare.

Roman tilted their head, a melancholy smile flickering on their face. “Can’t lose a friend if you don’t try to keep one, right?”

Logan folded his arms, he glared at the corsage rather than Roman’s face. With all it’s paled, mismatched colors- Logan considered the possibility that it too, was homemade. And maybe that was part of the charm.

“I get it. I even actively pushed people away sometimes. 10th grade was rough, ok?” Roman laughed, “Look, I know I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but, I would very much like to try to be your friend. Even if for a summer.” 

“That’s stupid.” Logan grumbled.

“Eh, stupid is fun though. Remus is stupid 24-7, and he’s the happiest guy I’ve ever met. He’s absolutely terrible and I want to defenestrate him, but my point stands.” 

Logan kicked at the ground, and sighed, “I’m- not amazing at friendships. I don’t understand people. And I’m exceptionally unpracticed at social interaction.”

“Perfect, we like ourselves some terrible social interaction. Adds some flavor, can’t bake a cake without the salt and awkwardness!” Roman smirked.

“I’m quite sure you can bake a cake without awkwardness. And also probably salt, given you replace it with another ingredient that fulfils the role of salt-.”

“God, you and Virgil are gonna get along perfectly-” Roman muttered in a way that Logan was unsure if he was meant to hear or not.

Roman abruptly stood, and held out their hand, “Anygay. May I perhaps have this dance? It is prom, you gotta dance at least once. If not for yourself, then to tell your parents that you did.”

Logan scoffed, “That’s true. At least to tell my parents I did.” 

Roman smiled, bright and wide and a little lopsided. Logan stood, brushed off his jacket and straightened his tie. He took Roman’s hand and smiled in return, gentle and soft and a little awkward. And in a fashion fairly similar to the rush that was their entrance, Roman pulled Logan back into the blare of music. It was loud, and probably still too loud for the safety of one’s ears, but it wasn’t quite as intimidating as it had been before.

Prom. Boring when you’ve got nobody to go with. 

And there would never be another dance where Logan had to go alone again. That was for sure.

[thetravelerwrites]

Monster Match #24: Bugul Noz

The Traveler's Masterlist

For: @voxnipop​: Hi there! I'm Ariel (Voxni on Kofi). I'm female-presenting agender, and use they/them pronouns. For a brief description, I'm a software engineer and genre-fiction writer. I love learning new languages and skills in my free time. Physically, I am clearly the designated nerd in a family of badasses. Tall, pale, and soft with curly red hair and thick thick glasses. (Compared to the rest of my tattoo-ed, super-athletic family. I love them though, do their taxes for them every year lol.) Always down for a fight to defend my family or friends, but thankfully as a super-soft sweet female-bodied person in the Southern US, most people disengage quickly after that.

In a partner, I honestly want to feel valued and protected. I know my default is to take control and basically be the protector and nurturer, but I'd like someone who reciprocates that care that I give. Intelligence isn't all that important as much as sweetness, and also maybe the ability to cook? I'm living that takeout lifestyle haaaard. Physically, I have a slight preference for larger partners, but I'd be pretty excited to see whoever the match happens with! No preference on SFW vs NSFW, whatever you feel more inclined/simpler to do. Thank you, and hope you hit your goal soon!

You’ve been matched with a Bugul Noz!

In Breton beliefs, the Bugul Noz, or "Night Shepherd"), is a fae-like being who lives in the woodlands of Brittany. He is the last of his kind and is said to be incredibly ugly, which causes him distress. His appearance is so awful that even woodland animals avoid him, and he sometimes cries out to warn others nearby of his approach, so that he won't frighten them and that they’ll go home. He is called the night shepherd because it is generally not safe in forests late at night, when he is most active. The Bugul Noz is not malicious (indeed, rather kind and gentle), he is always alone because of his hideous visage.

Rather than being a spirit to be feared, he’s said to, "fulfill a beneficial office, in warning human beings, by his coming, that night is not made for lingering in the fields or on the roads, but for shutting oneself in behind closed doors and going to sleep. This shepherd of the shades would then be, take it altogether, a kind of good shepherd. It is to ensure our rest and safety, to withdraw us from excesses of toil and the snares of night, that he compels us, thoughtless sheep, to return quickly to the fold."

It was the baleful moaning that alerted you, making the hairs stand up on your neck.

When you first heard the sound, you were spooked but unsure what you could do. You only had your bag, which had a map, compass, and a cellphone that had no service. You’d gone hiking before and never had a problem, but it only took one wrong turn in the woods to lead to disaster.

You didn’t work out much, as you kind of enjoyed being squishy, but walking along hiking trails was your favorite form of exercise because you could take it in your own pace and sit to sketch if you were tired.

You’d gotten lost while hiking during your vacation in France and night had rapidly come upon you. You eventually found yourself in some sort of ravine with a sheer cliff face preventing you from leaving. You followed it until you’d become tired, finding a cave-like cliff hollow to shelter under.

It was then that a gigantic brown bear decided to come back to what you realized was its den, and panicked. It reared up on its hind legs and bellowed at you, and you shrieked in reply.

“Oh, god, please don’t let me die,” You prayed. “All I wanted was a vacation in Europe before I became a serious adult! Please let me live to see the Louvre!”

You heard the moaning again, but it wasn’t coming from the bear. The bear came down from its hind legs and looked behind itself. It stiffened, and then jumped as if startled. The moaning grew louder, and the bear grunted, shying away from whatever it was. Apparently deciding that a fight with whatever it was looking at wasn’t worth it and moved on.

After a moment of waiting for the bear to return, you cautiously stood up. It was still dark out, the stars were clear and bright, but not enough to illuminate the way out.

“Hello?” You called to the darkness. “Who’s there?”

“Est-ce que tu vas bien?” The voice called. It was deep and scratchy, like someone who had a cough.

“I’m sorry,” You said. “I don’t speak much French.”

“Parlez vous anglais?” They asked.

“Angl--English! Yes, I speak English,” You replied, relieved.

“My English… not good,” They said in a very heavy regional French accent. “Follow, s'il vous plaît. Lead you to trail.”

“I can’t see you,” You said.

“C'est pour le mieux,” They replied. “Come now. Not far.”

“How can I follow you if I can’t see you?”

They were quiet for a moment. “Sing?”

“You’ll sing?” You asked, slightly amused.

“Oui,” They said. “Ça va?”

“Okay,” You said, unsure whether or not this was a better option than the bear. “Lead the way.

The… person… began to sing in French a song you didn’t know. Their voice was coarse, but they could carry a tune, and you could follow it well enough to be able to join them for the refrain.

“Singing est très jolie,” They said during a pause in the song.

“Thanks,” You said, smiling. “I like your voice, too.”

“Merci,” They replied with a happy, sing-songy tone. “Sing alone often. Nice to have… partenaire.”

“Do you live out here?” You asked as you walked.

“Oui,” They said. “Près de.”

“Close?” You asked. “I don’t want to impose, but I’m very tired and thirsty. I ran out of water hours ago. I just want to rest for a little while and have a drink and I can manage.”

They were quiet, and for a moment you wondered if they had understood you. You opened your mouth to rephrase it more simply when they said, “Juste une minute.”

“Thank you. Uh… Merci,” You said.

You followed their humming until you reached a hut made of stones. It looked old, like centuries old. It looked like someone had been keeping it up by replacing the old crumbling stones with newer ones. There was a simple door made of sticks and vines.

“Il y a un puits sur le côté de la maison,” They said. “Water. Must draw bucket. Go in. Sit. I get.”

Inside, there was a small fire inside a stone circle on a dirt floor. There was a rudimentary chair sitting next to it, and a simply carved table next to it with a bamboo cup. At the farthest end was a straw and large leaf pallet that you assumed they used for sleeping. Maybe it was an old man who shunned modern society and made his life out of leading lost people out of the woods. That would be noble.

Well, it was much better than your worst imaginings, which were running rampant in your head at the moment.

There was a thump at the door and you heard their voice again.

“Water,” They said. “Outside. You drink. I wait.”

You opened the door slowly, and there was a bucket sitting on the ground full of water. Though you couldn’t tell in this light, it looked clean enough, and you were too thirsty to complain.

“Where are you?” You asked.

“Here,” They said, though you couldn’t see them. “Go now?”

“Why won’t you let me see you?”

“Ugly,” They said. “Scare you.”

You laughed. “That’s silly. You won’t scare me.”

“I scare toutes les choses,” They said sadly. “Best no see. Get you home.”

“If you say so,” You said. “Okay, I’m ready.”

They began to sing again, and you followed the sound of their voice until you eventually came upon a trail. You laughed in relief and rushed to it.

“Go west,” They said. You heard shuffling, as if they were moving away.

“Wait!” You called. “What’s your name?”

“Auberi,” They said. “Be safe.”

You made it back to the town where you were staying as dawn broke. There had been a search team out looking for you, and they were relieved to hear you were alive and unharmed for spending an entire night in the woods.

You insisted you were fine, but they called an ambulance anyway. At the hospital, you asked the nurse, “Have you heard about someone living out in the forest?”

“Que voulez-vous dire?” She asked. “Did you see someone else out there?”

“Not see,” You said. “Heard. There was a person out there who led me out of the woods, but they wouldn’t let me see their face. They sang a song and I followed their voice out of the woods.”

“Ah,” The nurse said with a knowing smile. “You must have met le Bugul Noz.”

“The what?”

“Night Shepherd,” She translated. “It’s a kind creature that helps keep people and animals safe, but it’s said to be so ugly that it scares everything away from it. Not even animals will go near it if they see it. It is lonely and cries because no one will be friends with it.”

“Is the Night Shepherd real?” You asked.

“It’s a fairy tale,” The nurse replied. “But who’s to say it is real or not?”

A week later, you went hiking on the same trail, with a GPS this time in case you got lost again, and went searching for the Night Shepherd. You tried to sing the song they had, but you could only remember the refrain, so you sang that over and over, hoping it would draw their ear.

After a few hours of nothing, you sat down on a large stone and sighed unhappily. Perhaps you had hallucinated the voice, but how would you have hallucinated a song you’d never heard in a language you barely knew?

“Lost again, petit oiseau?” You heard the rough voice say.

“Auberi!” You said, jumping up and looking around only too see nothing but forest. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you?”

“Moi?” They said, sounding surprised. “Pourquoi?”

“I heard a story from the nurse after I made it out of the forest,” You said. “About a creature so ugly that no one would stay with it. Is that you? The night shepherd? Le Bugul Noz?”

They sighed heavily. “Oui,” The admitted. “Je suis.”

“Is that why I heard you crying before you drove off the bear?” You asked gently. “You are lonely, aren’t you?”

They were silent.

“You saved my life,” You said earnestly. “No matter what you look like, I want to thank you for that. Please, can I see you?”

“Je ne veux pas te faire peur.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Scare you,” They said. “Don’t want.”

“You won’t,” You said. “Come out, please? I have a gift for you.”

“Not ask for gift,” They said. “Just want safe.”

“I know,” You said. “But I brought you one anyway. Please? Please let me see you.”

There was a large breath followed by a deep, heavy sigh that blew the low branches around. Then the saplings in the low brush were moved aside as the creature came out into the light.

They were hunched and crooked, with a long neck like a horse, complete with a main of tangled, coarse tan hair. They had three pairs of arms, one of which worked in tandem with their feet to propel their large body forward. They were covered in the same coarse fur as their mane, only shorter and curlier. Their face was flat and revealed a dark hole that seemed to lead to nowhere. They had no visible eyes or ears, but they seemed to hear and see just fine. There was a long tail stretched out behind them that dragged the ground as they walked. You had no way to determine their gender, so you didn’t try.  

They were certainly unusual, but you didn’t think they were ugly.

“Not running?” They asked, their head turning in surprise. You had no idea where the voice was coming from, as they had no mouth, just the dark maw in the middle of their face.

“Not running,” You said. “I told you, you saved me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re as handsome as a prince.” You reached up to touch them, and they shied a little in fear, but allowed you to put your hand on their neck. You stroked their hair and scratched their skin, and there was a strange guttural purring sound from the maw.

“I’m going to be in the village for another month,” You said. “And I came to France to learn about it’s art, it’s culture, and it’s people. You’re part of that. I think I’d like to spend my month with you.”

They leaned their head against your cheek, and there was an odd hollow whistling from the maw, but it wasn’t so bad.

“Teach you all my songs,” They said. “We sing together, petit oiseau?”

“I’d love to sing with you, Auberi.” You said, laughing and snuggling against them.

To get your own Monster Match, buy me a Kofi!

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal.

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[missdutch21md]

Music of the Night (1)

A/N: Hello Dear Readers, 

Here is Part 1 of this precious series of mine! I have put a lot of love and care into this story, I hope you enjoy it! (There’s more to come of course) 

All my Love, 

Soul 💖

Summary:

The time is 1856. Location: Paris, France at the Opera Populaire. Taehyung is living his life when who should stumble into his life than the most beautiful singer he has ever heard? She was the missing instrument to his orchestra. She would complete the score for his… Music of the Night.

Pairing:  Opera Ghost! Taehyung x Singer! Ballet Dancer! MC

Universe: Phantom of the Opera AU

Characters: rich! Seokjin, rich! Yoongi, dance instructor! hoseok, officer! Jimin, stagehand! Jungkook, chorus girl! BlackPink 

Genre: Fluff 🥰, Mature 🔞

Length: 2.1k 

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of religion, stalking, slight yandere themes

Please keep in mind this is a work of FICTION this in no way reflects on any BTS members or Taehyung as a person. This is simply a story for the imagination.

Go b a c k | Turn p a g e | M.List | Request 

As I sang, my voice steadily got louder claiming the attention of those who were still around. All at once, Jin and Yoongi’s conversation came to a halt. The stage hands and the ballet dancers practicing for the show in the coming weeks all stopped to hear as I sang. The music built to a crescendo and I kept in pitch perfectly but kept in time with the music a little clumsily but still pushed on.

I finished singing the notes that maestro Namjoon gave me and timed it with him ending the music.  

“Brava!”  

“Tres magnifique!”  

The two owners of the opera house made their way from the back of the orchestra seating going onto the stage to greet the new ballet dancer that was meant to be an addition to the ballet.  

I nodded and bowed blushing slightly. “Merci monsiuers, I am most humbled by your applause,” I greeted them kindly. “I am _____.”  

“Ma cher, that was quite wonderful,” The taller man began.  

“A diamond in the rough,” the shorter man beamed at me.  

“Mademoiselle, please meet Monsiuer Kim Seokjin,” the taller man bowed. “And Monsiuer Min Yoongi,” the shorter man bowed. “They are the owners and operators of the Opera Populaire,” Maestro Namjoon explained to me from his place in the orchestra pit.  

I nodded and curtseyed again as gracefully as I could. “Thank you for taking me on as part of your chorus, I will do my very best.”  

“Chorus?!” Seokjin hollered down to Namjoon.  

“That is entirely unfitting” Yoongi protested.  

“You forget that you signed on Francesca for another year,” Namjoon reminded the two owners with a tired sigh. “Also, Minnie got pregnant Mademoiselle ____ is meant to fill her place.”  

“Right,” Jin looked down at me with pleading eyes. “ the moment to contract with our current leading soprano has finished. You will be our star,” Jin took one of my hands and got down on one knee. “Please don’t even think of leaving to another house until such time as we can give you a proper spotlight?”

I giggled at how dramatic the tall and striking man was being. Didn’t he know how happy I was to be just accepted as a chorus girl? “My good sir,” I pulled on his hand to get him to stand. “There is no need for that. I want to be here. No matter where you put me.”  

“A true lady, indeed,” Yoongi smiled at me softly. “And you’re punctual?”  

I nodded eager to please. “Oh yes, of course.”  

“How old are you mademoiselle?” Yoongi inquired.  

“I am just 24,” I answered with a small smile.  

“How darling you are,” Seokjin hummed. “Please call me Jin.” I nodded agreeing to this.  

“See to it that she is settled in.” Yoongi called to a chorus girl who came up eagerly and he turned back to me.  “We will take this first year to train you and get you ready for the spotlight. See to it that you don’t lose this kind and polite manner.” He gave me a hard look but I could tell he was fighting off a smile.  

I nodded. “I won’t disappoint you, monsieur.”  

“Well go get settled then, if you please,” Jin ushered me over to one of the chorus girls.  

“I’m Jennie,” she smiled up at me warmly.  

“I’m ____,” I introduced myself to her as we made our way to the back of the opera house where the real magic happened. I watched as everyone kept working to build the world for the upcoming production.

“How old are you?” she asked me keeping me engaged in conversation. 

“I’m 24, and you?” I smiled at her as we passed by sculptures being made. 

“I’m 23!” she beamed. There were costumers sewing and there were carpenters working on the set and stage hands setting up the rigging. I looked on in wonder and did my best to follow Jennie back to the bed chambers. Though she said we would be making a stop along the way. 

We stopped by the costumers to pick up a uniform for me.  Jennie held up some tights and dug for another pair when she saw the poorly mended run. A skirt. A shift. A bodice. When she had gathered all the items she wanted, she instructed for me to follow her further into the back of the grand opera house.  

“You’ll be sleeping beside me,” she giggled and allowed me to set down my things. “You have your own pointe shoes, right?”  

I nodded.  “Yes I do,” lifting up the small sack I carried. It was the last thing that I had from my father. He had bought them for me when I was a little girl, saying he would make sure I was trained by the best teachers, and he kept his word. I started taking lessons right away. My eyes gleamed at the thought of my recently passed father and tried to blink the tears away when Jennie turned to me again. 

“Why don’t you get changed into this then and we will go see monsieur Hoseok before lunch?”

I nodded and waited for her to shut the door to quickly get changed. I found the silk ribbon in my sack and tied back my hair as I made my way to Jennie who was conversing with one of the stage hands while waiting for me.  

“____-ssi, this is Jeon Jungkookie,” Jennie introduced me to the cute boy.  Another glance in his direction showed me he was more like a boy-man. His face was so sweet, but he had the build of someone that always had to work. 

“Nice to meet you,” I smiled in greeting with a small bow.  

“She’s my Unnie so you better be nice and watch out for her Kookie,” the girl glared at the boy.  

Jungkook looked offended. “As if I never look out for you Jennie –noona,” he guffawed.  

“I’m watching you,” she challenged with a finger pointed to his chest.  

Jungkook turned to me and bowed to 90 degrees. “It’s nice to meet you ____ -noona.”  

I nodded and thanked him bowing my head a little. “The pleasure is mine. Jennie mentioned we would be late for lunch. I hope to see you around,” I smiled kindly.  

Jennie then took my hand and we made our way to the kitchen. Where we bumped into other chorus girls. Jisoo, Rose, and Lisa. I learned that I was the same age and the unnie of the other girls as well and they all were so glad to have me around.

Jennie mentioned again that we should go meet Hoseok and Jisoo said it’d be better for us to wait. “He isn’t very happy. No one told him that Minnie was dismissed last night,” she explained with a sad look in her eyes. 

He knew it was coming of course. He just didn’t think they would turn it around so quickly.  

I gulped in nervousness. Maybe he would purposely try decide to hate me and make this next year torture for me? We ate lunch quickly and then made our way out to the stage again to find monsieur Hoseok and maestro Namjoon as they were discussing the upcoming production.  

When we came out to the stage again. Everyone was present. Even Francesca had risen from her bed. Jisoo and Lisa pointed out that she only ever came out from her quarters when someone important was coming to visit. And someone important must have been coming today. For the diva was dressed to the nines. Her costume molded to her form, her make-up was well done, and her hair was perfectly in place.  

As Francesca was warming up with maestro Namjoon, I timidly made my way over to Monsiuer Hoseok to introduce myself with Jennie at my side.  

“You must be the new girl,” he smiled warmly at me.  

I nodded, bowed low and introduced myself.  

“Such a cute thing,” he mumbled mostly under his breath I wasn’t sure that I really heard it. “I have been informed that we will be training you for the coming year. Please know that I am strict. And I will not tolerate any loose behavior. We can’t replace you as easily, or so I’m told.”

I nodded and promised that I would abide by his rules.  

Hoseok seemed satisfied with my answer and asked me to join the rest of the girls to warm up and asked Jennie that she show me how things are done around here.  

Once we warmed up, we started the dance for the upcoming production. And Francesca began her rehearsals for her aria. I suddenly understood why Jin and Yoongi were so desperate for me to stay on with the promise of the future.  

While Francesca wasn’t necessarily a bad singer. She was technically very good. She had good control and her voice could carry. But the quality. The quality was lacking. Her voice was grating on the ears so much so that even some of the maids stuffed their ears with cotton so as to lessen the assault on their ears that her voice inflicted.  

“I wonder how long it will take for him to notice her.” Jin hummed while watching from stage right while us chorus girls were at practice. I was in the back with Jennie learning the dance and doing my best to keep up trying to not let the voices of the managers distract me.  

“The opera ghost?” Yoongi questioned softly. As though just saying the words would make him appear.  This made my ears prick up I’d always had an “unhealthy interest” in the macabre as my aunt once put it to our priest. 

Jungkook, as though on cue, came down from the catwalk with a sealed envelope. “Here please Sir’s. It is addressed to you,” Jungkook bowed and stepped away once Yoongi took the letter.  

“It seems our resident genius may already be aware,” he gave Jin a meaningful look before bringing his attention back to the crisp stationary. Yoongi broke the seal on the letter and read it quietly to himself.  

Francesca at Jungkook’s interruption and the mention of the note waited with bated breath for Yoongi to finish reading. “What does he have to say, my manager?”

Yoongi looked over at the diva almost rolling his eyes. “He is pleased with the newest addition to our chorus. And some other administrative concerns.” He answered handing off the letter to his partner Jin who now took the letter to pour over the words.  

“How could he possibly know of the new patron?!” Jin practically screeched.  

Yoongi shared a dark glance with the man with an insincere smile. “Someone likes to talk. Loud.”  

Murmurs seemed to spread through the crowd. Yoongi turned to address us, the ensemble. “Yes. We have a new patron. It is Vicomte de Chagny, Park Jimin.”  

There were audible gasps of excitement in the crowd. “He is coming to visit today actually,” Jin tacked on after.  

“Ah, I see you’ve made the announcement,” Jimin said as he entered from stage left causing some in the crowd to cheer and applaud. I gasped not believing the sight before my eyes.   

“Do you know him Unnie?” Rose queried.  

I nodded. “We grew up together. He was like my little brother. I haven’t seen him since my parents died and I had to go live with my aunt. That was so long ago almost 10 years now.”  

Jimin stood among the other men smiling and conversing while we all talked excitedly amongst ourselves. Jimin then announced he wouldn’t hold us up and said he would be with us on opening night for the new production next week.  

I stood up taller hoping Jimin would notice me. And visibly deflated when he walked past without a second glance.  

“He didn’t see you,” Jisoo tried to reassure me. I nodded and brought my attention to Hoseok when he tried to bring us back to order. The rest of the day was a blur. So much so that I asked Jennie to show me where the chapel was. I needed a moment to breathe before bed. And I needed to pray.  

While I sat in the small room. I did not know there were dark piercing eyes watching me closely. I said a quick prayer and asked God to please continue watching over me. As I sat praying. I faintly heard the most beautiful voice.  

I reveled in its sound and even joined in singing along to the hymn.  

I was sure it was someone far off singing loudly so they couldn’t possibly hear me, I assured myself. I slowly became quiet again as a yawn forced its way from my lips.  

“Good night angel,” I called out before making my way up to the chambers. I changed into a simple shift and climbed into bed beside Jennie and promptly fell asleep once my head hit the down pillow.  

Go b a c k | Turn P a g e | M.List 

[thelanternlight]

Source

Witchy Asks!

Hello fellow witches! Here’s 50 Witchy Asks written by the-lunar-vixen. Please follow if you enjoy them. Blessed be!

1    What type of witch are you?

A gay one.

2    What deities do you like to work with, if any?

Angels, faery, guides, Mother God, Father God, Christ, saints, and ancestors. I'll also work with deities from various religions as they pertain to a spell or ritual (e.g. I may work with Hathor for a love spell).

3    Have you ever created your own spell?

Absolutely, most of the spellwork I do is original at least to some extent.

4    What’s your favorite time of year?

All the year is beautiful and wonderful for a myriad of reasons but Springtime is sacred to me.

5    Do you have a witch you look up to?

I think I have teachers that come and go in my life. They can be famous or not famous, witches or not, etc. Currently I'm loving Ember Honeyraven.

6    What makes you feel powerful?

Balance and freedom. Knowing that I'm on the side of what's good and right.

7    Do you have a favorite myth?

I'm an author and storyteller so I have many, many favorite myths. Off the top of my head I love the stories of Medusa, Apollo, the Christian Creation myth, Germanic and Scandinavian folklore, Anansi and his stories, Arthurian legends... the list goes on, but yes I LOVE stories. I think have so much meaning and wisdom to share.

8    Which famous/fantasy witch do you relate to the most?

I've grown up watching witches in movies, television, reading about them, etc so I've related to witches one way or another since day one. The Charmed Ones (all four) were role models for me when there were no role models for little, effeminate weirdos like myself as a child. The Sanderson Sisters were person heroes to me and I tried to emulate them from the very first time I saw the film; in fact those three are perhaps the original witches with whom I related the most. Since then there have been SO many wonderful characters in entertainment and in real life that inspired me so incredibly much that they've become a part of me.

9    Are you a wiccan?

I am not.

10   What’s the most unique item you’ve ever used in a spell?

I guess a dildo? I think 'unique' is a relative term.

11   Do you own any witchy books?

Apart from my personal book of spells I've owned many books on witchcraft but have parted ways with the majority of them. I'm currently trying to downsize the amount I have currently as it happens. Anybody want some free books?

12   Which misconception about witches annoys you the most?

That magic isn't real and this is all nonsense. I think it's especially irritating when people of other faiths criticize my own as if a prayer is anything different from an incantation. In fact I would argue that spells direct energy in a more concentrated way to affect change than simply petitioning a deity.

13   Have you ever created your own sigil?

You bet. Sometimes you just need something original and unique for the rite/spell.

14   What element are you most drawn to?

Water.

15   Do you have a familiar?

Some people use the word "familiar" interchangeably with "pet". I do have a pet but she's not my familiar. Other people define "familiar" as "spirit animal" which I'm not entirely sure is correct either. I'm in a bit of a gray area on this subject, but I see question 17 below touches on it as well.

16   Are you a part of a coven?

No. I've tried working with others to do magic but I think the synergy/chemistry has to REALLY be on point to do effective magic. Very often there's a clash of philosophies or practice that sort of spoils things all too easily whereas working alone allows me to concentrate so much better.

17   What’s your spirit animal?

Again this is a vague term that means different things to different people. I consider my spirit animal to be more or less my "familiar". When I was younger I was walking in the woods one evening praying really hard about something that was weighing very heavily on me. Then suddenly I looked up and there was this gorgeous and perfectly white stag looking back at me. He stood there for quite a while before slowly walking off again and the whole situation had such a profound sense of meaning to it. I saw the stag a few more times until finally, late one night while I was walking through the woods by a lake under the glow of a bright full moon I saw the stag one last time on the far side of the water. Ever since then the white stag has been sacred to me. So that's what I consider my spirit animal/familiar. It's a guide of sorts, a good omen, a sign, a representation of Spirit/Soul/God-energy and Self. I identify with it. So that's my spirit animal.

18   Do you do tarot readings?

I do indeed!

19   What’s your favorite witch movie?

I have several, but Hocus Pocus has been my favorite since I was a wee tot.

20   How many crystal do you have?

I actually don't really know. I don't go out and buy crystals but sometimes they come into my life and then go when they've served their purpose. For example, I had a beautiful large quartz that my grandmother had bought me from the nature store when I was a kid. I loved it so much. But one Halloween night I was doing a ritual with a friend of mine in the woods and ended up losing it. Interestingly, that friend was pursuing me romantically unbeknownst to me while also hooking up with the guy I was hooking up with and also really liked (ugh, gay culture). And during that ritual I was speaking with my grandfather (husband to the grandmother who bought me the quartz that I lost that night). So what does all that mean? I have no idea. But I figured all things considered maybe it was just time to let that thing go, along with other things that night.

21   What’s the most unique item on your altar?

I don't really have the privacy to set up an altar but generally I like my "work area" to be neat. Everything has a purpose and a meaning and a function. If I need to burn something I have the item/items, the cauldron, the lighter, oils, and anything else needed for what I'm doing. So nothing in particular stands out as "unique"... unless... Well I do have a small copper cauldron with a handful of dirt from my grandmother's house that I've kept for almost twenty years now. I guess that's unique?

22   Have you ever enchanted anything?

Oh god, yes, lots of things. I've enchanted things so as to protect them, or so that the item will protect someone else or some place... I've enchanted things for love, or to keep something or someone away. I've enchanted things to help in a greater ritual or spell. And so on.

23   What’s your religion?

I was raised Christian Baptist but following one horrible experience after another I've absolutely left that faith well behind long ago. I don't have a particular religion in the sense of organized religion. I'm spiritual and I cast spells. I also believe in science. I don't call myself a witch but I do everything a witch does.

24   Do you have a favorite crystal?

"I could no sooner choose a favorite star in the heavens".

25   What are some of your favorite spells?

Oooo I'd have to say I'm rather partial to love magic. I'm particularly good at it too.

26   What do you like to do to cleanse your space?

After physically cleaning a space I like to use the Violet Fire to cleanse an area as well as cleansing using a broom and a wand and/or athame.

27   When do you feel the most powerful?

When nature and I have our little moments. When the wind is warm and strong. When I'm out in a storm. When I can "feel" things growing during the Spring. The silence of a frozen winter night in the woods... Also when I'm cooking. I fucking LOVE charging a pot of boiling ingredients with good juju.

28   Do other people know you’re a witch?

A few people close to me know I practice witchcraft. Others think I'm just a little bit daffy.

29   Has one of your spells ever gone wrong?

Definitely. Mostly when I was still learning and practicing. Like this one time in sixth grade I cast a spell so that a popular girl in school would like me and we could start dating. Obviously since I was gay I didn't really want to be with her, I only did it because I wanted to be cool (although I did like her and we ended up being fairly good friends until we went to different high schools). That spell backfired and I ended up 1. not getting the result I intended because I was doing it for the wrong reason and simultaneously trying to force another to do something against her will, and 2. I ended up having one shitty fucking love life for the longest time.

30   What outfit makes you feel the most witchy?

Oh I love me a good cape. Even just walking around with a long blanket around me.

31   Have you ever tried astral projection?

Yes, successfully, several times. I like to use it for meditation. Often I go to the artic sea where there's just ocean, ice, and darkness.

32   Do you have any enchanted jewelry?

Probably.

33   What does your altar look like?

A space on the floor where I cast a circle and set up my stuff.

34   Have you ever seen a spirit?

YES! I've seen fairies, spirits, ghosts, shadows, sparks, heard voices, etc.

35   What’s your favorite spell sachet?

I can't say that I have one.

36   Do you have a favorite sigil?

I'm especially fond of the Sigil of Venus.

37   What’s your astrological sign?

Sun sign Virgo, Rising Pisces, Moon in Sagittarius

38   Have you ever interacted with a deity?

Well, yes, of course... per the previous questions.

39   What color are you most drawn to?

Purple.

40   Do you believe in past lives?

Without a doubt.

41   Where do you like to practice your craft?

Wherever I have privacy and calm.

42   What’s your favorite season?

Springtime, as mentioned previously.

43   Have you ever cursed someone?

That's not what my magic is for. Yes I'm familiar with the how-to, but no I don't partake in that kind of thing. The "worst" I've ever done is cast binding spells to keep someone from harming me and/or even coming into my presence.

44   How long have you been a practicing witch?

I'm telling on myself now but I'd say about 24 years practicing in earnest.

45   What drew you to witchcraft?

A natural inclination.

46   In what moon phase do you feel the most powerful?

The Moon itself does not change with the phases of its shadow. The phases are representational, of course, and its symbology can be evocative and meaningful, but otherwise the Moon is what it is. Therefore I'd have to say I personally feel most connected or at least most aware of the Moon when it's full. Else, I would say when it's waxing as that's when most of my spells are done simply because of the type of spell I usually work.

47   What’s your favorite holiday?

Wisterlimas, and then Halloween. Although I love all the holidays.

48   Do you know anything about your past lives? (if you believe in them!)

Yes, wow, I've done extensive work on discovering my past lives. I've lived in San Francisco at the turn of the century, in Scotland, England, France, Japan, China, as a woman, as a man... It's all very fascinating but you can't delve too deep because it's simply not necessary. You're not really *supposed* to know about your past lives. That defeats the purpose of the great forgetting once you're reincarnated. Yes, you can revisit the major themes and lessons learned, but one shouldn't really fret too much about what happened in the past.

49   Have you ever done an energy reading?

Certainly. I think most people do energy readings even when they don't know they're doing it. There's "reading the room" or "getting a bad vibe". There's also reiki and the like. And healing work. And of course magic is all about directing energy so to achieve a specific goal.

50   What time of day do you like to practice your craft?

Usually at night but it has more to do with the individual spell. Astronomical positioning is also important as well as weather, season, personal mood, day of the week, et al.

[brucethecrocodile]

This is my story and art so please don’t repost on other sites thanks

Behind the Door

WARNING: This story is not for the faint of heart.

It all began one thousand years ago, in the small tribe of Shamungga, in West Africa. The Shamunggan shaman’s apprentice was reciting a spell, which he thought would bring rain to the tribe when in actual fact it was a spell to release the Hashnawa, a terrible demon that devourers all beauty, life and soul from everything. When the spell was complete and the Hashnawa was released, chaos and ruin took Shamungga, hundreds were killed and the rest wounded. The chief banished the apprentice and the remaining people sought refuge with the shaman. The Old Shaman with her powers vanquished the demon, but she died of exertion. What the people of Shamungga did not know was that the Hashnawa was not killed but lay in wait for the day where he would be freed from his prison and destroy anything and anyone in his path.

Now we come back to the present day where I’ll introduce our five victims, did I say victims because I meant to say…uhhh…”heroes” that’s it sorry, lost my train of thought, but let’s continue. Shall we?

Our first person is a lowly man by the name of Cadmus, he is 42 years of age, single, balding from the back forward, has no friends, his family really dislikes him, he is obese, his skin colour is white, has no children (but likes children) and he works as an underpaid cook at a fast food place.

Our next person is a very depressed man, who is fabulously rich, by the name of Richard Richie Richmond, he is 24 years of age, single(but has adoring fans who love him), blonde hair, grey-black eyes, well built, his skin colour is white, has a tremendous amount of fake friends, he is an only child, when he does see his parents they are always on the phone, hates children, is cruel to his employees and under pays them, he owns dozens of fast food places and he would like to hire an assassin but has no one to kill.

Our third person is a beloved, kind actress by the name of Erica Patience; she is 40 years of age, married with 3 teenage children, she looks half her age, pitch black hair (no grey/white hairs), strikingly green eyes, her skin colour is black, has a close group of true friends, a loving family, is kind to everyone and anyone, hates violence and can’t dance or sing.

Our fourth person is actually three people by the names of Nutella, @ and Cyanide Cornfoot-Bonefat, they are 24 years of age, blonde, brunet and fiery red coloured hair, they have heterochromia eyes which are blue and brown, brown and green and green and blue, they are studying to be doctors, all of them are single, their skin colour is black, are orphans, they have friends but are their own best friends forever, they are passive, timid and aggressive and hardly ever do as they are told.

Our final person is a criminal of high security he has 50 life sentences his name is Bobby Bill, he is 11 years of age, doesn’t have a family anymore, has no more friends left, his eyes are black with hatred and pleasure, his heart has no more colour, his conscience…what conscience he has none, his hair is a cruel colour, his skin is so sickly white it is translucent, his teeth are a vile shade of yellow-green, his ears look like rats have chewed them almost completely off, his nose is like a rats, his face is quite rat like with his beady little eyes, rat nose, whiskers and mouth, he smells of rotting flesh and garbage, he has a skeletal appearance and has the warts a toad would be grossed out from.

So now that you know our “heroes” let’s start our true story. Let’s bring the chaos…an archaeological dig, in west Africa have found the ruins of an ancient tribe, where lies the remains of hundreds of humans and a cave with a passage written in the Shamunggan language of tyticky, the archaeologists did not know that the text was indeed the spell that set Hashnawa free and the warning to NEVER read the spell aloud. The archaeologists sent the text to a master of deciphering dead languages. It took a month but the “master” finally deciphered the text and gave it back to the archaeologists, and they read it… aloud. With that one little mistake they endangered the lives of everyone and everything in the universe.

Hashnawa curled up under the tribe in his prison. In that moment opened his eyes for the first time in one thousand years.

Cadmus had an appointment with his boss; he wanted to ask for a raise because he has worked there for so long. When he stepped into the office building he felt a sudden rush of fear, flood through his veins. After about an hour of waiting in the waiting area, he knocked on his boss’s office door. The office was on the top level of the tallest building in the city and the whole one wall was made of glass, which gave it an excellent view, the desk was close to the window and was an antique black oak writing desk. Cadmus’s boss, sat in a black leather swivel office chair, he was facing the window so you couldn’t see his face.

“Please come, sit…I don’t bite…usually.” joked, Cadmus’s boss in a deep sinister, masculine voice that was unquestionably smooth and suave. Cadmus gulped and gingerly took several small baby steps forward, toward his boss. “Now…uhhh…Cadmus is it?” asked, Cadmus’s boss in that same voice, “um…y…ye…yes…sir.” Squeaked, Cadmus awkwardly saluting his boss’s back, his boss slowly turned his chair around to face Cadmus, with his blonde hair and penetrating grey-black eyes that seem to stare right into your soul.

“Now there Cadmus, no need for those formalities, you can just call me Mr. Richmond. My friends either call me Richard, Richie or RRR/triple R. But obviously you can’t call, ME that now…can you? So now Cadmus, hilariously stupid name by the way, what have you come to ask me, today?” inquired Richard, with an obnoxious look on his face. “Well, sir I mean Mr. Richmond. I have come to…well…uhhh…um…I have come to ask you for a rai…” started Cadmus. “Now let me just stop you right there, what makes you think that I’m going to give YOU a raise… huh! Why do you deserve it?! Tell me, don’t just stand there looking at the ground like an idiot, and tell me already…no well ok then this meeting is finished I have a movie premiere to go to.” interrupted Richard.

Richard stood up and stormed out, mumbling about the likes of Cadmus…as he was passing Cadmus. Rude much, I mean he didn’t even say goodbye and have a good day. Anyway, Cadmus decided to follow his boss and try to “persuade” or in other words “beg” and “plead” his boss for the raise.

Meanwhile at a high security prison just outside of town, a certain deadly prisoner is “making a break for it” or he is trying and succeeding at breaking out of prison.

Yet at the movie premiere a crowd swarm as they try to get a glimpse, of the celebrities walking down the red carpet. In this swarming mass of people is someone unlike anyone else there, because they are a three headed girl. Some might call them conjoined triplets; they might call them a three headed freak of nature.

The star of the premiere was walking around, by herself, nearby the premiere, her family was already inside. She passed an alleyway and she heard a sound as if someone had ran and hid. “Hello…is anyone there…” Erica Shouted cautiously, as she stepped toward where the sound came from. She suddenly heard another sound right behind her and she felt as if she was being watched. She turned around…slowly. “AHHHHH!” she screamed as she got the shock of seeing the little 11 year old boy for the first time.

Erica was shocked at how this boy looked and smelled she was even slightly scared of this boy, who looked almost like the devil incarnate. Erica soon found herself again. “Hello there. Sorry I screamed, you just startled me that’s all. What is a young boy like you doing in an alley way late at night, and all by yourself to?” asked Erica, to the small terrifying boy.

“I’m hiding, from the pol…uhhh…bullies who were...picking on me. They are very violent.” lied the strange looking boy. “But why are you out here, and not at home? And where are your parents?” Erica asked suspiciously, with a raised eyebrow. “Well I…uhhh…don’t have any parents there deceased and I...live at a…orphanage. The thing is the orphanage is awful and everyone bullies me because of how I look, they…uhhh…call me names like freak and rat-face and rodent boy.” explained the boy with a sad, innocent look on his face. Erica asked the boy one last question “So what is your name? Mine is Erica Patience.” He answered with a smirk “Erica, my name is Bobby Bill.”

Cadmus followed Richard to the premiere, but he couldn’t go in through the front door, because he didn’t have a ticket, so he snuck in the back door through the staff entrance. The conjoined triplets were inside, and took their seat next to Richard. Erica and Bobby sat with Erica’s family, who were coincidentally next to Richard and Nutella, @ and Cyanide.

In the middle of the premiere Cadmus suddenly was on the stage with a mic and told everyone what Richard told him. The security dragged him out of the premiere, but little did they know that he would not give up there.

Most of the people who were at the premiere went to the after party; this includes Richard, Nutella, @, Cyanide, Bobby and Erica. Erica’s family went home but she had to stay because she was the star of the movie. Cadmus followed soot.

Keep in mind that our “heroes” still have not properly met except for Bobby and Erica, and Richard and Cadmus.

Richard went straight to the bar and ordered a couple of drinks for himself.

Nutella wanted to dance but Cyanide wanted to drink and @ just wanted to leave, so Cyanide drank, on the right shoulder, while Nutella danced, with their feet, she was on the left shoulder, and @ was just there, in the middle looking awkward as ever.

Erica tried to persuade Bobby out of the shadows to dance with her, but he was unwilling.

A little while later, Erica had given up and was dancing, Bobby was still in the shadows. Richard was almost drunk, at the bar ordering more drinks. The conjoined triplets getting tired of dancing headed to the bar, on the watch for cute guys. Cadmus was inside the gates, trying to think of how to confront his boss…without getting fired.

Richard had just had his third drink and was a…wee bit tipsy. When these three girls came up to him at first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him because these girls had one body. There was a red head with a pixie cut that was very punk rock, she had one blue eye and one brown eye she was on the right, holding an empty drink and she looked quite fearless. The girl on the left had brunette hair styled in that tight 60’s curl, with one green eye and one brown eye she held herself confidentially bopping her head to the music. The last girl was in the middle, she had one green eye and one blue eye, and she hid behind her long straight bleach blonde hair and looked shy and awkward. They were wearing a short tight red dress with black heels.

The girls sat down next to Richard at the bar. “Can I get a drink…please?” yelled the girl on the right with the fiery punk hair; she sounded like she had already had numerous drinks. “I don’t think you should drink anymore, you’ve already had lots.” shyly whispered the girl in the middle, looking down at their hands. “What did you say? Are you trying to tell me what to do?” Spat the first girl. “No…I mean yes…I mean…I don’t know.” mumbled the second girl. “That’s what I thought your just a little scaredy cat, you know what I think you’re just…” “Stop it right now!?” interrupted the girl, with the 60’s do, in a passive but serious tone.

After the girls had cooled off Richard introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Richard…and you fine young ladies are?” inquired Richard. Blushing they answered one at a time, “I’m…@.” giggled the girl in the middle. “I’m Nutella, it’s a pleasure to meet you Richard.” blushed the girl on the left, sticking out her hand to shake formally. “I’m Cyanide, and are you…single? Because we are.” drunkenly stated the girl on the right. “Uhhh, yeah...ok. Do you guys want a drink?” awkwardly answered Richard. “Yes thanks, we would love a drink.” exclaimed Nutella.

Just as Nutella finished her answer there was a low pounding sound, like giant footsteps, coming closer and closer. Until, finally this colossal reptilian looking beast with six legs, stood in front of the party goers. Standing on its hind two pairs of legs, it had raptor like talons, a skeletal tail with no flesh at all just the bear bone, on the tip of its tail a venom excreting mace, its twenty blood-red eyes were plastered onto the front of it gnarled scar ridden face and as it roared its unruly, blood-curtailing, deathly roar it unfurled its satanic bat-like wings.

This dreadful beast was in fact Hashnawa, the terrible demon, in his full strength, for the first time in one thousand years. He devoured all the beauty, life and soul from the people that were near him. Their lifeless bodies slouched over, with stark white eyes and hair. Hashnawa leaned over and grabbed a carcass in his powerful jaws. He crunched down shattering the bones, tearing the flesh, muscle and skin to shreds with the person’s blood cascading down both sides of his jaws, meeting on the tip of his chin, only to drip down onto the floor.

The crowd screamed and ran as fast as they could trying to get far away from the beast, but our “heroes” stood there frozen staring up at this 100 foot monster their feet bolted to the ground, their eye transfixed on this thing. They only snapped out of the creature’s hypnotic trance by an ear-splitting scream as a girl cried out as she was deprived of all her beauty, life and soul. Cadmus sprinted to his car and shouted out to the others “GET IN THE CAR, BEFORE YOU GET EATEN!” and they hurried to squash into Cadmus��� car, and he sped away without any hesitation.

After they were a safe distance away from the creature Cadmus slowed down. “What was that...that thing?!” yelled Nutella. “I don’t know...but did you see what it did to those poor people.” exclaimed Erica. “Hey you’re Erica Patience the actress, it is a great honour to meet you.” chorused everyone, except Bobby and of cause Erica. “Thank you all, it is always great to meet a fan. Now you all know me but the only person I know is Bobby here.” smiled Erica pointing to the small 11year old disgusting boy, who was sitting next to her. They then introduced themselves, before telling each other about themselves.

That night Bobby stayed with Erica and her Family.

The next morning on the News.

News reporter: “Good morning ladies and gentlemen, I’m here with some professors from the University of Archaeology, who say they can explain the recent rash of disappearances. So professors what’s the verdict?”

Professors: “Stay home lock your doors, bolt your windows no one is safe from the wrath of Hashnawa the demon who devourers all the beauty, life and soul from everything. He will bring chaos and ruin like he did to the ancient tribe of Shamungga, hundreds were killed and the rest wounded they were only saved by their shaman and she could only imprison him. Our best advice to you is run and hide, go underground if you have to just save your selves and your loved ones.”

News reporter: “ok...so they are crazy...oh they’re now singing the song ‘it’s the end of the world as we know it’ so that was a dead end...I’ve just got news that this has happened in West Africa, where people suddenly started disappearing. So I guess that’s all from me now back to you Earl.”

Erica turned off the TV, gobsmacked she had to sit down.

When she was finally herself again she phoned, her new friends from last night and told them what the news had said. They were all shocked too. They later decided to meet up for lunch and talk, she brought Bobby with her, since he wasn’t going to school. When they were all at the café they discussed it fully, but as they were getting up to leave...they heard a terrified scream and they all turned to see what the fuss was about, and what they saw shook them to the core.

The army was called in but as the tanks and soldiers, were about to fire. The tanks stopped and the soldiers collapsed to the ground like human ragdolls. One by one they were eaten in shocked silence the only sound was of the crunch, snap and crack of the Hashnawa eating the lifeless corpses of the soldiers. Then the beast roared its horrible roar, and continued eating. In that moment the human race saw its defeat, some gave up, some ran and hid, but the few that didn’t give up banded together in rebellion, they then tried to fight Hashnawa with weapons...it did not work and they were killed then ripped to shreds then eaten.

News reporter: “It has been a month since the demon Hashnawa arrived, there is now no electricity. Our numbers are declining and we suspect that he will not stop, he will wipe out everything on the face of the planet, if the world is listening then...go underground and hide because there is no one to save us.”

Our “heroes” lives are quite different now. Erica’s family has moved away to safety, it is just her and Bobby, they keep each other company. She still has no idea that Bobby is actually a wanted criminal of high security. Cadmus now has friends and he got the raise, not that it matters now anyway. Richard now has actual friends and is a better person; he is dating Nutella, @ and Cyanide and it is serious, he still has no one to hire an assassin for though. The conjoined triplets have graduated university. They have all stayed in contact and are great friends.

*1:00am* ring, ring...ring, ring “Hello, yeah this is he...yeah...hmm...ok...how come...sure but...hmm...I know...I’ll try...ok bye.” Richard sighed and phoned his friends.

“What do you mean we have to try and defeat Hashnawa?! It’s suicidal...but why us, why you this makes no sense...I know but...sure...yeah but...ok...right...I know and you’re right...ok see you tomorrow then bye.”

The next day the friends set out on their mission, they were all terrified. “Ok let’s do this.” They shouted together, to pump themselves up. They charged Hashnawa to get his attention, and then they led him out of the city and into the dessert. Once they were far enough away they began shooting at him from all angles always moving so he couldn’t kill them. “It’s working, it’s actually working. This is great! Hey you guys, I haven’t told you this before but you’re the only friends I have ever had.” Cadmus shouted over the roars of Hashnawa. “Cadmus you are an awesome person, and we’re lucky to be your friends.” Everyone chorused.

Just then Hashnawa was about to hit Erica, but Cadmus saw this and ran to save her and pushed her aside shouting “Noooooo...” before being hit with the fatal blow, in the middle of nowhere miles from anywhere.

His friends cried out when he was hit. Bobby Bill, who had grown attached to the kind, obese man who was balding from the back forward, tried to run to him but got held back by Erica and the others. So he just cried out in vein. Bobby was hoping, wishing and pleading that his friend was still alive, yet after he didn’t stir and say something like “don’t worry ‘bout me l’il chipmunk I’m a tough old geezer.” That’s when Bobby knew he was gone forever and he cried. He cried until there were no more tears left to cry, when that happened he just then moaned, heart breaking moans of sadness.

“At least he died with a smile on his face.” Said Richard who had knelt down next to Bobby, who was kneeling next to Cadmus’ crushed and deformed pale body and Richard gave Bobby a comforting hug. “Let’s destroy this monster, once and for all!” shouted Bobby angrily.

By sunset they and Hashnawa were tired. Richard fired a shot gun at the demon and it fell down. The friends leapt in victory, Richard went up to Hashnawa and did a little dance. Hashnawa quickly slammed his mace tail down on Richard wounding him then he devoured all the beauty, life and soul from him.

He hit the triplets with his tail as they ran to the body of Richard; they were flung into a rock and couldn’t move they had a venom injecting spike stuck in their stomach. @ died with her eyes and mouth open, blood rolled out of her mouth her sisters cried out in sadness. Nutella was the next to die. Cyanide was the only one left, she screamed in pain and sorrow and told them she was sorry for being mean to them and she died with her eyes closed hugging her sisters bodies in her arms, a single tear ran down her cold lifeless cheek.

Erica suddenly pushed Bobby away and shouted to him “run and be safe.” Those were her last words to him, because after that Hashnawa ate her in one clean bite in front of him she had been waving goodbye to him, when it happened with tears in her eyes and a proud motherly smile on her face. He cried and cried for what must have felt like hours, he had found himself a family after so long and then one day it just vanished. He remembered everything they had been through together, only to cry some more.

He felt himself stand up and grab all the remaining weapons and he just fired them blast after blast at the demon while walking closer and closer then he activated all the bombs strapped to him and let himself be eaten.

Bobby died. The demon Hashnawa was never seen again.

On our “heroes” grave stones it read:

R.I.P Cadmus at 42 years old, Richard Richie Richmond at 25 years old, @, Nutella and Cyanide Cornfoot-Bonefat at 25 years old, Erica Patience at 40 years old and Bobby Bill on his 12th birthday.

Saviours of humanity. Beloved by many, known by few.

But what no one knew was that the Hashnawa has hundreds of thousands of demon spawn in his cave...

By,

Shayna M.

[writehardwhumpharder]

Don’t leave Carson alone with a fever

More young Carson. In this one he is 17 and has to stay home from the school with the flu. What starts out as a normal flu gets out of hand because of course it does. Whumpy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833043 (Ao3 link)

“Mom!” Carson yelled from his bed lazily, “Mommmm! Momm!”

“Oh for fucks sake what is it?” She said, throwing open his bedroom door. Some days she felt like she was still raising a five year old.

“I’m sick I can’t go to school.” He stated.

Carson’s mom glared at him for making her stop getting ready for work just so he could tell her that, “You’ve already missed too much school.” She turned to leave.

“No, but I’m actually sick.” He protested. Now that she looked, the dark circles under his eyes did look a little worse than usual against his pale skin. 

She sighed, “Carson, sweetheart, when you’re an adult you have to go no matter how hungover you are.”

“I’m not hungover!” He yelled.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said firmly.

“I’m serious!” He whined.

“Fine,” She closed the door and Carson listened to her footsteps retreat. He knew that that didn’t mean he was off the hook and he could go back to sleep. She was going to get the first aid kit and so she could go all nurse on him and find out for herself whether or not he was telling the truth. If he didn’t try to get out of school like this at least once a week he’d actually be insulted by how little she seemed to trust him. A minute later she came back with a small box that had the thermometer in it. In her closet was a much bigger first aid kit stocked with medical grade supplies that had been “misplaced” at the hospital where she worked. Carson’s mom thrust the thermometer at him and he let her place it under his tongue. Her wet hair dripped onto the end of his bed, she obviously hadn’t had time to dry it before he interrupted her routine.

It beeped three times and she pulled it out to look at it. She was careful not to make any kind of expression that would allow Carson to say he told her so. “Hmmm, it’s a bit high.”

I fucking knew it. “What does it say?” he asked.

“102.1. Definitely a fever. Come here.”

Carson reluctantly sat up and leaned against the wall opposite her already knowing what she’d do next. With absolute focus she felt around his neck and throat for any swelling in the lymph nodes.

 “Seems normal. I’ll let you stay home but you have to take some medicine and promise to email all your teachers about your missed classes.”

“Whatever. Can I go back to sleep now?” He asked.

“Take some ibuprofen first. I have to get to work.” She leaned in to kiss his forehead which Carson of course had to make a look of disgust at that went completely ignored by his mother. Knowing she’d be running late now he didn’t ask for anything else before she left to finish getting ready. He let his head sink back down into his pillow. He really did feel awful. Probably caught some kind of virus from school. A familiar ache settled into his bones as fatigue threatened to drag him back to sleep. He knew he should get up and get the medicine like his mom told him to but he was just so tired. The mere thought of moving made him nauseous so Carson decided to take a little nap to escape his discomfort.

Oh god. He was drowning. Carson was sure of it. While he was sleeping a river must have come through and gotten his bed all wet and sticky. He tried to move his legs but they were trapped in the current. His eyes snapped open suddenly and Carson looked down to find that he was still in his bed and while it was soaking wet, it was actually because he had sweat through the sheets which also explained why they were sticking to his legs. He kicked them off, letting all the blankets on his bed slide onto the floor. The fresh air on his body felt refreshing for a solid three seconds before he became unbearably hot again. Fuck, what time is it? He rummaged around in the crack between his bed and the wall for his phone and ended up pulling it up off the ground by the charging cord. He turned it on, 11:47am. Shit. He had slept for hours. And over the course of those hours he had only gotten worse. If he just took the damn fever reducers in the morning he might feel fine by now but instead his sick ass let it get worse and worse until he woke up covered in sweat with a pounding headache. Good job, Carson, good job.

He slowly sat up and winced as a ray of sunlight from his window lined up with his eyes. It sent shooting pain into his head along with an overwhelming surge of nausea. The instinct to not throw up all over his bed kicked in and got him up and running for the bathroom even though just seconds before he would have thought running to be impossible. Since he was alone in the house, Carson didn’t bother to shut the door before falling in front of the toilet to hack up everything he had eaten in the last 24 hours, or by the looks of it, everything he’s eaten in the last 17 years of his life. He definitely had the flu. Carson didn’t really mind throwing up though as long as it was quick. Is that strange? Don’t most people hate it? At least for him once he was done the feeling of nausea went away so it was worth it to just get it over with. He leaned against the tub for a good long while before moving again. He was going to go lay back down, again forgetting that he’s supposed to take medicine for this, but the phone rang and interrupted his thoughts. He found one of the house phones on its charging stand in the hallway and answered.

“Hello?” He said, surprised how hoarse his voice sounded.

“Oh, hello, I’m from the school. I’m calling for Diana Hall?”

“Well too bad, you got Carson,” he said. “She forgot to call and excuse me didn’t she?”

“Yes it seems she did, can I talk to her?”

“No, she’s at work. Just go ahead and write down that I can’t come in because I’m dying of the flu.” With that he hung up. They would probably just call her cell number next but either way, it was no longer his problem. Carson put the phone back on it’s stand hearing his mother’s voice in his head saying “stop leaving the phones in random places, they need to charge”. He almost took it back off the stand just to be a little shit but he didn’t. Truthfully, his mom was the one person he shouldn’t cause trouble for. She worked long shifts and spent all her free time at home cooking them food, cleaning the house, and worrying about him. As he stood there in the hallway reflecting on his life, Carson felt a little bad for being so incapable of taking care of himself. His mom never complained though, she was an angel like that. He wished she was here now to take care of him because he was indeed doing a shit job of that himself. Ugh, time to go lay back down.

Carson dragged his feet as he walked the whole three steps back to his room, perks of living in a small house. He crawled onto his bed and sighed. How was it possible to ache even more when lying down? A loud ding by his head startled him awake again, which was strange because he didn’t even realize how close he was to falling asleep again. There was a text from his mom. 

“Remember to drink water and try to eat something. There’s soup and broth in the cupboard that you can microwave. Take more medicine every four hours. Love you!”

His eyes were a little blurry when he tried to read the small text but he managed. That was all good advice. He should really do all those things. He should go do them right now before he forgets…

---

The next time Carson wakes up he knows he fucked up. His entire body shook with chills and yet again his bed was soaked with sweat. It was a lot like earlier that morning except he felt a million times worse. The headache had turned into a full blown migraine and his fever must be pretty high too considering how freezing cold he felt. This was bad, really bad. He tried to get up to go find the thermometer but only succeeded in falling on his face. His arms and legs didn’t want to cooperate with him. The ache he felt before was now accompanied by severe weakness. So severe that he knew walking anywhere would be impossible. He would literally have to crawl to the bathroom. Thank god no one was around to see this. He must look pathetic.

The fever made it really difficult to keep his thoughts in order so Carson had to repeat his task in his head over and over again until he got it done. Go to bathroom, check temperature. Go to bathroom, check temperature. Go to bathroom, check temperature. Fuck. The first aid kit with the thermometer was kept in a high cupboard which he would have to stand up to grab. Using the sink, he pulled himself up to his feet and leaned heavily against the wall. Carson had to stop and catch his breath before reaching up to grab the box. His legs shook with the effort of standing and his head swam with dizziness. Carson managed to drop the box onto the lid of the toilet as black spots took over his vision. It was the same feeling you get when you stand up too quickly and everything goes black for a second as you sit down before you actually get to the point of passing out. He almost didn’t want to know how bad he let his fever get untreated but he needed to know so he could decide what to do next. One thing was certain though, he needed to take some fever reducers stat. Luckily he found a small packet of aspirin in the box so he wouldn’t have to stand up again to grab the bottle above the sink. As Carson tore open the small pouch he realized he didn’t have any water to wash them down with. Pills or not he definitely needed to drink something if he could stomach it. The sink was too far away but the bathtub wasn’t.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered to himself before he turned on the water and leaned far enough into the tub to put his mouth under the stream of water. He swallowed the two pills with it and took another couple sips but had to stop because the stale taste of tap water made his stomach turn. Carson turned off the water quickly and gagged into the tub. As much as he wanted to throw up he couldn’t let himself because then he’d have to take more medicine and in the state he was in he wasn’t sure if he’d even get that far. It took a minute or two for his stomach to settle down and stop trying to eject what little fluids it had. Now that he thought about it he hadn’t eaten or drank anything all day. That on top of throwing up earlier meant that he was almost definitely severely dehydrated. Those couple sips of water wouldn’t be enough but if he tried to force more down he’d lose it again pretty quickly. That was a problem for later though, he still needed to take his temperature. This part was significantly easier than the others as all he had to do was sit there with the thing in his mouth until it beeped. Carson’s eyes slipped closed and he would have fallen asleep sitting up if the obnoxious beeping didn’t snap him out of it. Carson pulled it out of his mouth and struggled to focus his eyes on the tiny numbers. He had to blink a few times but there it was, 104.8. Holy shit. Did fevers even get that high from just the flu? Did he have a raging infection that he didn’t know about? Had he overused his magic and forgotten about it? More likely this was just his punishment for not listening to his mom and neglecting to do anything to break the fever earlier. The smart thing to do would be find a phone and call his mom but he wasn’t even sure if he had the time for that. Carson wasn’t sure how high a fever had to be to be dangerous but his was certainly getting there. It was getting harder to stay awake too.

“Something, gotta do something…” he rambled to himself. He racked his brain for a solution to all his problems. What would his mom do in this situation? No… he couldn’t. No way… Even as he was denying it to himself Carson got back on his hands and knees and started crawling towards his mom’s closet. If he couldn’t get himself to a hospital he’d just bring the hospital to him. Or the next best thing at least. Maybe he could have gone back to bed and everything would have been fine but he just as easily fall asleep and die or something. Carson just didn’t trust himself to pass out at this point. If he didn’t do something now he’d lose his chance. 

He pushed open his mom’s closet door. There it was, the big first aid kit. His mom had an entire crate full of medical supplies stashed away for emergencies including everything one would need to do surgery at home, various medications that she couldn’t possibly have obtained legally, IV kits, needles, oxygen, and some other stuff he didn’t recognize. Carson wondered if she had all this stuff just because she could or if she went through a lot of  trouble to sneak this out of the hospital because of how unpredictable he was. She never knew what kind of reckless injuries he’d come home with, especially when he was a little younger and even more depressed. Remembering each time they had opened this crate in the past he realized that having it really was justified. Carson sifted around through the supplies until he found what he was looking for. His mom had been smart enough to put everything he’d need into one plastic bag labeled “Saline IV”.

He dumped out the contents onto the floor in front of him and stared at them in confusion. He knew how to place an IV but it was admittedly harder to figure out while his brain was busy frying itself. There were a lot of tubes and for a second they moved around on the floor like snakes. What the fuck? he thought, Oh yeah I’m hallucinating. He put one hand down on them so they couldn’t move and used the other to sort out the supplies. He found the actual IV bag and attached the first tube to it then pulled a hanger down from the pole above him that his mom used to hang all her sweaters and jackets in the warmer seasons. The small hole at the top of the bag was big enough to get the curved part of the hanger through then with some difficulty he hung it back up next to the sweaters. Damn, a sweater sounded pretty good right about then, he was freezing. Why was he so cold? The fever, can’t forget about the fever. With the bag situated he turned to the more difficult parts of the IV. Carson found the little plastic piece attached to a needle that was used to put a tiny tube into the vein. Most people don’t realize that it wasn’t actually a needle that stayed in the vein, the needle was only used to insert the flexible tube then was removed. Otherwise it would hurt every time someone moved their arm. After taking inventory of the rest of the contents of the bag he finished assembling the IV and made sure there was no air in the tubes. Now for the hard part, actually inserting it. Carson tried not to think about it as he sanitized the needle and spot on his arm he planned to place it. His mom made him practice finding the vein and inserting the needle maybe a thousand times when she taught him how to do this so it was basically second nature to him but that didn’t mean he was comfortable around needles. There was a tiny pinch as he put it in and Carson breathed a sigh of relief when it was finally over. He put a thin piece of medical tape over it to keep it in place. Wow, he actually did it. This time when he fell asleep he knew he’d feel better when he woke up instead of worse. He couldn’t help but scold himself for not just taking the medicine in the morning. Maybe he could have avoided all this. Oh well. Carson tugged at a jacket to pull it off it’s hanger so he could use it as a blanket. In any other situation sleeping in his mom’s closet would have been uncomfortable but he was so damn tired it didn’t make any difference to him.

---

It was night time when his mom finished her shift at the hospital and drove home. They actually let her leave early because she was worried about the lack of response to all the texts she sent him to check in. She just had to trust that Carson could take care of himself for a while. He was almost an adult, she couldn’t afford to miss work every time he was sick. She rattled off excuses to herself as she parked in the driveway to reassure herself she wasn’t a bad mom for leaving him alone all day.

“Carson? Are you sleeping?” She called out as soon as she got in the door. No response. She ran up the stairs without taking off her shoes or jacket so she could check on him as soon as possible. His mom opened the door to his room expecting to see him lying where she had left him but his bed was empty. Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe he was in the bathroom. The door was left open so it didn’t take long to find that he wasn’t there either. She did however find a mess left on the floor so he had obviously been in there. Where the fuck could he be? It was highly unlikely that he’d go to her room but it was the last place she hadn’t checked so he opened the door with high hopes. Her bed was untouched and the light was off. Now she was really worried. Just as she was about to have a heart attack something caught her eye. The closest door was ajar. When she left in the morning it was closed. His mom flicked on the light and threw open the door. Oh thank god. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath until she exhaled again. There he was, sleeping in the bottom of the closet with medical supplies littering the ground. Kneeling down next to him she shook his shoulder.

“Wake up, honey.”

“Huh… what?” He stirred.

“What’s this?” She asked, seeing something on the inside of his left elbow. Her eyes followed the tube all the way up to the bag hanging on a clothes hanger. Judging by the amount left he had started the IV a while ago. His back is gonna hurt after sleeping like that for hours she tisked.

“Come on. Get up.” She told him.

Carson frowned and tried to push her away but he didn’t have the strength to resist her. She felt his forehead, he still had a fever but it was a low one. As much as she wanted to ask what the fuck happened while she was at work she knew she should wait until he was well again so with some struggling she managed to lift him up and drag him over to her bed. The makeshift IV stand/clothes hanger was moved to one of her corner bedposts and she checked it to make sure he did it right. Being a nurse it only took a quick glance to make sure everything was in order. She tended to him the rest of the night. Carson never fully woke up but she managed to spoon feed him some soup which he threw up... Then she spoon fed him some more, having more success the second time. Eventually she got it out of him that he didn’t take any medicine and let his fever get to a ridiculous 104.8 degrees. She sighed knowing that she should have forced him to take the medicine before she left that morning but she did have to give him some credit for taking the necessary precautions later on when he realized that not only was his fever dangerously high but he also had little chance of lowering it as dehydrated as he was. All in all, it was a rough day that dragged on well into the night. 

[belphegor1982]

…it’s done. Finished. My monster Mummy fic, the one I started in 2003, started publishing in 2004, and left dormant since 2008 – I finally completed it o.O Weirdly (or not), this is the chapter which gave me the most trouble, if you don’t count chapters 16 and 17 (which took me 2 and 16 years to write, respectively). It was hard to say goodbye to this story and these characters, even though I knew I literally just had to get an idea for another story :-/

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Summary: 1937: Two years after the events of Ahm Shere, the O’Connells are “required” by the British Government to bring the Diamond taken there from Egypt to England. In Cairo, while Evelyn deals with the negotiations and Rick waits for doom to strike again, Jonathan bumps into an old friend of his from university, Tom Ferguson. Things start to go awry when the Diamond is stolen from the Museum and old loyalties are tested… (story on AO3; on FFnet)

(Chapters on Tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23)

Chapter 24: Departure (on AO3 here; on FFnet here)

London, September 1937

A little off Paddington Station, almost in Marylebone, was a small pub called the Stars and Crown, its red brick façade almost exactly similar to the others along the street. It was an unassuming little affair Jonathan liked to patronise every now and then, and not just because it happened to be situated not too far from his flat.

It was a balmy mid-September late afternoon and one of the double doors was wide open on the quiet street. Jonathan and Tom were seated by one of the stained-glass windows, drinking – G&T and a ginger beer, respectively – and talking. Jonathan, remembering the promise he’d made after blowing up Hamilton’s lorry, had bought the rounds.

But for small details like the mostly healed-over scratches on Tom’s hands, the old scar in Jonathan’s left palm, and all the subtler little ways the past two decades had changed them, they might as well have been twenty year old students again.

Well, apart from the subject of their conversation.

“I got off easy, if you ask me.”

“Nonsense. You were the only one who tried to fix this bloody disaster. It’s only fair that you didn’t… You know.”

“…Pay for my mistakes?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

Tom gulped a mouthful of ginger beer, still looking glum.

“I suppose – I know – I should be grateful I didn’t end up like Hamilton, at least.”

Jonathan winced.

Charles Hamilton had made it back to England in a slightly better state than he had made it out of the pyramid, but that wasn’t saying much. From what they had heard, he was lucid for about an hour a day, and that was it – and not very coherent at that. Which made the fact that he allegedly hung himself in his cell a week before his highly sensitive trial very suspicious indeed. The man didn’t appear capable of putting on his trousers on his own, let alone do anything as complex as a slipknot.

The Lord Chancellor’s Department had issued a statement half-heartedly lamenting Hamilton’s demise, the newspapers had stayed surprisingly quiet about it, and Evy had fumed for an entire fortnight. And that had been it. Hamilton had taken the gentleman’s way out. Case closed.

At least Gabriel Baine had been tried, convicted, and sent behind bars for a lengthy period of time. Jonathan didn’t particularly care where he was, as long as he could be elsewhere.

Baine had stated a few times that there hadn’t been anything personal about shooting and ordering his men to shoot Jonathan, Rick, and Tom. Jonathan had silently begged to differ. Baine’s shouts of “Kill them” followed by the sudden excruciating pain in his back, not to mention the confusion and terror as he fought not to die and lost, had felt pretty damn personal.

Tom stared into his glass for a while, then looked up with a brighter expression.

“But enough about this fiasco. How’s your family? I seem to remember your sister’s birthday was coming up, you were lookin’ for a present when we bumped into each other at that bazaar. Did you find one, in the end?”

Jonathan perked up. “I did, actually. Got her a signet ring. She seemed to like it.”

Now that memory he would treasure as long as he lived.

An inventory of his pockets had revealed a hodgepodge of small trinkets which he was still trying to trace. The little medallion with the amethyst cameo must be early Regency, stolen by the pygmy mummies from some unfortunate Napoleon soldier’s corpse; the lapis earring was probably from the Ramesside period (a few Rameses had sent their armies to find or reclaim Ahm Shere, Jonathan had found); the couple of gold and silver rings bearing the Roman SPQR were a little incongruous but easy to chalk up to Julius Caesar’s expedition. There were also some 4th Century Persian coins, proving Alexander the Great’s men had also reached Ahm Shere – the Oasis, anyway – and a number of little amulets from various Egyptian expeditions, mostly heart scarabs made of red and green jasper, copper, quartz, bronze, or gold. He hadn’t determined the nature of the green gemstone yet, saving it for last.

Jonathan had been so excited by his find that he hadn’t gambled a single object. Tracing their origins took time, but he had not even told Evy about it yet. Instead he had not only called on every scrap of expertise he had concerning treasure, but also on every book he could lay his hands on. Evy would have been very surprised – not to mention highly suspicious – if she learned how much time he had been spending at the British Library lately.

He had always enjoyed a good riddle. For some reason this one looked promising enough to justify doing some actual work for. Besides, having the artefacts authenticated meant he would be able to get a much better price selling them.

The only thing he had parted with was the (probable) Napoleon coin, the soft gold nibbled almost beyond recognition by the pygmy mummies’ teeth. Another look at it the morning after his resurrection had given him an idea.

Before they left the Medjai camp, Jonathan had obtained from Ardeth a sketch of Nefertiri’s personal cartouche and the address of a talented goldsmith in Cairo; once back in the city, he had wandered down to Kerdasa, the coin and the folded paper safe in the inside pocket of his (whole and clean) jacket.

Just before he reached the little shop, however, he heard a yelp and a startled cry, and was knocked off his feet by something large and hairy. His vision was filled by long camel’s lashes and lips drawn back on long yellow teeth in what Jonathan might have taken as a smile if he hadn’t known better.

Why did every single camel have to have such foul breath, he wondered.

“ʾAhlan1, Djem,” muttered Jonathan with a sigh that was half annoyance, and half amused resignation.

And was astonished when the camel immediately disappeared from view, replaced with a familiar face. Satiah’s big brown eyes went wide when she saw him.

“Oh, it’s you, bāša2. Hello,” she said with a smile.

Jonathan got up and dusted himself off, irritation quickly fading away. The jacket could survive a little dirt; besides, Satiah’s smile as she hung on to Djem’s bit had lost some of its previous shyness. Considering how fearful she had been the last time – and who could fault her for that, really – it almost made getting knocked over by a foul-smelling bag of hair and wind worth it.

“Good morning, Miss Satiah,” he said in Arabic, picking up his hat from the ground so he could salute her with a flourish. Her hand flew to her mouth to hide a giggle. “It’s a stroke of luck finding you, really. I wanted to thank you for your help the other day, and for, er…”

He reached his limits of the language, and finished in English, “I mean, thank you for returning my wallet to my sister. That was very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Satiah said in Arabic, her cheekbones a little pink. “I’m glad you and your friends got away from those men.”

Jonathan’s smile slipped a notch or two, but he rallied quickly enough.

“Yes,” he said just a little wryly, “we did, at that. In the end.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve just reached my destination,” he added, pointing to a door above which hung a sign saying something about gold in painted Arabic script, “so I’m going to wish you a—”

“You’re going to see Cousin Ashar?” Satiah interrupted, her eyes shining. Immediately afterwards she clamped both hands on her mouth and cringed. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. Small world, eh?”

She gave a small smile and led the way into the shop, stopping only to tie Djem to a post.

Ashar – the goldsmith Ardeth had recommended – was a tall, wiry man with a long face, his hair going grey at the temples. He welcomed Satiah warmly and sent her to the backroom to get what she came for. Before she closed the door, she gave Jonathan a little friendly wave, which he returned with a smile. Ashar gave him an odd but not hostile look, eyebrows raised.

Jonathan placed his order, left the coin, and was about to leave, when Ashar called him back, frowning slightly.

“You’re one of the O’Connells, aren’t you.”

Jonathan’s mouth opened and closed as though of its own accord.

“You could say that, yes,” he said finally. “Why?”

“Because word of the second raising of Anubis’ Army made it to Cairo recently.”

This time Jonathan’s mouth dropped open and remained like that for a handful of seconds. Ashar gave something that was almost a smile.

“Not all of us wear the ritual tattoos, you know.”

“I do know,” Jonathan articulated with only the slightest difficulty. Dr Hakim was a Medjai, and his face was devoid of any tattoo as well. Dr Bey had been the same, now that he thought of it. His gaze went to the door that led to the backroom. “Satiah, too…?”

“Yes. But her mother’s family has lived in Cairo for fifty years. The girl has never seen the desert. She will get good schooling and find a trade, inshallah3. The time for living legends is coming to an end.” Ashar looked at the cartouche Ardeth had drawn for reference. “I know what this says. Who the name belonged to. Your commission is either a hollow trinket or a great gift.”

Jonathan drew himself up and said, as dignified as he could, “I’m rather hoping for the latter.”

His own signet ring had been gambled and lost in some card game or another, years ago. His parents would have been so disappointed had they still been alive. The least he could do was make sure his sister had a ring of her own, one that paid tribute to the woman she was and the woman she had been, three millennia ago.

Evy’s reaction when she opened his present proved him right, and even surprised him.

She stared into the box long enough for Jonathan’s brain to go into overdrive. Her silence made him panic ever so slightly. Then she looked up at him, her eyes very bright, lower lip trembling.

Jonathan barely suppressed the need to shuffle like a schoolboy and buried his hands into his pockets, hoping his face didn’t give too much away.

“I know I wasn’t… there – or, you know – then,” he said, almost sheepishly. “But I thought… Well. I hoped you’d like it. The cartouche must be right, I got it from Ardeth, and the goldsmith was a bloody good artist, as it turned out, but—”

Evy cut him off by launching herself at him and flinging her arms around his neck, throwing him off balance. As usual, Jonathan stumbled, but managed to catch her in the end.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered into his neck. “Thank you, Jon.”

If his smile was a little wobbly, his eyes a little moist, nobody seemed to notice. Rick and Alex had picked up the little box; Rick’s face lit up in strange recognition, while Alex deciphered the cartouche slowly and grinned.

“Nice one, Uncle Jon. That’s a pretty good present.”

“Yes, about that,” said Jonathan irrepressibly while Evy broke away and wiped her eyes, “I hope you realise that this is the last birthday present you’ll ever get from me, old mum. Since – judging by your reaction – nothing I could give to you could ever top this, I have decided to simply refrain from trying.”

Evy had slapped his arm and called him an idiot with a big smile, then hugged him again. And he had hugged her back, just because he was alive and able to.

The ring hadn’t left her finger since.

“Jon?”

Jonathan was abruptly pulled back to the present, the Stars and Crown, and Tom’s curious smile across the table.

“Hm?”

“You were a thousand miles away.”

“Sorry about that. What about you and Lizzie? Dorset been treating you well, I hope?”

Tom shook his head with a smile.

“It has, sort of, but we’re moving to Oxford. Did Liz tell you she’d been replaced while she was gone?”

Jonathan nodded. Lizzie disappearing for two weeks had not gone unnoticed in her little town, but since the police didn’t have the beginning of a clue and nobody was able to reach Tom, they had moved on to other things and her boss at the telephone exchange had hired someone else. There had been a subtle but definite irony in Lizzie’s letter as she described her and Tom’s return and the scrutiny they’d had to stand up to in order to prove her husband hadn’t killed her and stashed her body away – or vice versa – before his former Chamber of Horus hierarchy stepped in to explain things.

“Well, they needed an operator at the exchange on Pembroke Street. And you know the interview I had this morning at Whitehall? I won’t be too far, as it turns out.” Tom took a deep breath, then said with one of the goofiest smiles Jonathan had ever seen on his face, “I’ll be workin’ from the Bodleian.”

This could only mean one thing. Jonathan grinned.

“The British Antique Research Department accepted your application, didn’t they? Congratulations, old chap. That’s fantastic.”

He downed a mouthful of his G&T and laid an elbow on the table, his chin in his hand.

“Haven’t been to Oxford in almost fifteen years,” he said thoughtfully. “Not since Evy finished her degree. I wonder if the city’s changed.”

“It’s Oxford,” said Tom quietly, looking like his mind was straying down the same path Jonathan’s thoughts were. “I can’t imagine it’ll ever change that much.”

Jonathan smiled quickly into his palm. Then he raised his glass.

“To the two of you, then. And to publicans hopefully not holding grudges, otherwise we’re still banned from half the pubs in Oxfordshire.”

Tom snorted and raised his own glass, now almost empty. “To the three of us, and testing that theory sometime. And let’s not wait two decades this time,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

The two glasses clinked.

For just a second, the decades fell away, and Jonathan was twenty years younger.

Lizzie was already waiting for them on the platform by the time they finished their drinks and walked back to Paddington. She carried a shopping bag that looked entirely too small compared to what should be expected of a woman who’d just spent a few hours in the old metropolis. Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you say you planned to go to Harrods while we were in London?”

“I also said I only needed a new suit and the latest Agatha Christie novel,” she said, light teasing in her tone. “The next one will be out sometime in November, I think. Have you heard what the title will be? Death on the Nile, of all things.”

Jonathan gave a mock shudder. “I might just give this one a miss, then.”

The train’s whistle pierced the air, cutting the rest of the conversation short. Tom picked up his wife’s bag and Lizzie turned to Jonathan with a smile.

“Goodbye, Jonathan,” she said softly.

The use of his first name had always been a signal that the game was paused and the masks were off, as clear as a referee blowing halftime. Jonathan answered in kind, his throat just a little tight.

“Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

They hadn’t even actually said ‘goodbye’ last time. They had just stood there, she leaning out the train window in her brand-new nurse’s uniform, he and Tommy on the platform amidst the soot, the steam, and the throng of people, until the train departed. The memory was an old hurt that still twinged sometimes, like his left shoulder when the weather was bad.

He cleared his throat and smiled.

“See you on the next Christie novel, then?”

What Lizzie did next might have shocked twenty year old Jonathan, who thought he knew her well, and as such very much surprised his current self, who had a little too much experience of the world to truly get shocked anymore. She took his hands in hers, flying in the face of propriety and what had been her rules of conduct in public, and kissed him on the cheek near the corner of his mouth with an aching sweetness. The old Lizzie, so shy and unsure of her self-worth that she was terrified of what people may think, would have been appalled.

It had taken a while for Jonathan to truly grasp how much the years had changed Tommy and start thinking of him as ‘Tom’ to account for that change. Through this apparently simple gesture – simple only to someone who didn’t know Elizabeth Ferguson, née McAllister – Lizzie became ‘Liz’ in an instant.

“I can’t bear to think you died,” she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. “When I think… Without that – that book…”

She took a deep breath. Tom caught Jonathan’s eye and gave a small nod. Of course he had told her. Knowing Liz, she’d take the secret to her grave anyway.

“Take care of yourself, Jonathan, please. The world would be so dreadfully dull without you in it,” she added with a tentative smile, to which he replied with a smile of his own, one that hopefully looked steadier.

“Likewise.”

Her hands tightened around his. Just for a second or two, he softly ran his thumb on the back of her hand, an echo of the old intimacy that used to bind them; then their gazes fell away, their hands separated, and the moment was over.

Tom held out his hand with a smile, and Jonathan’s mind was whisked back to that sunny afternoon in Cairo, almost two months ago, and a chance encounter that had reshuffled the cards in a major way. Tom’s handshake was slower this time, steadier, warmer.

“Bye, Jon.”

“Cheers, Tom,” said Jonathan, determined but failing to swallow the lump in his throat. “Have a pint at the Oxford Arms for me.”

Tom nodded, and added his left hand to the handshake, not saying anything. He didn’t need to. As usual – almost – everything he meant to say was on his face and in his eyes for the world to see.

The train let out a burst of steam. Tom hastily let go and made for the train door, stopping only to help Liz aboard. Jonathan looked wistfully at the train for a minute and was about to turn around and go home when he heard his name being called over the din of the locomotive and the running gears chugging into motion.

Tom and Liz were leaning out of a window, wearing identical wide smiles. Liz was waving, her other arm wrapped tightly around her husband. The light in her eyes and her curly hair whipping around her face made her look like the girl from Jonathan’s memories.

“Send my love to Evelyn!” she called. “And say hello to your brother-in-law for me! You’re all welcome anytime for tea!”

“I’ll make sure they know!” shouted Jonathan as the train gathered speed.

The blatant disregard of platform etiquette made several passers-by turn and stare at him with a touch of glower. Jonathan ignored them and kept his eyes on the departing train. Tom’s and Liz’s beaming smiles remained in his head a long time after they had gone back inside the carriage.

He would see them again. This time he was determined not to leave the possibility of a reunion to chance and the vagaries of life. They had been through too much – both twenty years and two months ago – to just go their separate ways.

Besides, Jonathan mused as he left Paddington behind to wade through the bustling streets, he still had some research to do before he set out to sell the objects he had found at Ahm Shere. The Bodleian Library was as good as the British Library; at least he didn’t risk meeting Evy there and being subjected to her prodding curiosity, which he wasn’t ready to face yet. At least not before he unravelled the mystery of the little gemstone. It looked like an emerald and felt vaguely familiar, as though he had seen it somewhere or heard a story about it.

This required some investigation, if only to be prudent.

After all, he was particularly well placed to know that you can only go so far on fairy tales and hokum alone.

THE END

.⅋.

1(أَهْلًا): informal “hello”, “hi”.

2باشا (bāša): “sir”, “mister” in Egyptian Arabic.

3ʾin šāʾa llāhu, (إِنْ شَاءَ ٱللَّٰهُ‎) – literally “if God has willed it”, “God willing”

Don’t look for the Stars and Crown in Paddington, or the Oxford Arms in Oxford. Unlike the Turf Tavern they’re entirely fictional.

Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile was indeed published on 1st November 1937. I couldn’t resist, I mean, come on ;o)

The Bodleian Library is the main research library in Oxford and one of the oldest in Europe.

If you’re wondering, yes, that little gemstone might be the basis for a sequel of sorts, but I haven’t really started to plot it. Considering my track record for these things you might see that story sometime in the next decade and a half :P

Writing and publishing Fairy Tales and Hokum has been such an adventure. I was 21 when I started writing it; now I’ll be 38 in four days. Much as I miss the old crowd of 2003-2006, reposting and updating the story here on AO3 allowed me to know some awesome people. I’m so glad these characters somehow – FINALLY – sneaked back into my head and my heart again with their quirks, their (updated) backstories, and their voices and allowed me to finish this story the way I wanted to. Like I’ve said before, whenever you started reading this, I hope you had a good time now that you’ve reached the end. If you’ve read and left a signed comment – if you’ve read and left an anonymous comment – if you’ve read and left no comment at all – know that I wrote this for you and I hope some of it made you smile.

Take care of yourselves, love you all, and see you on the next fic? :o)