#i had to stand there in that exact position while she drank the rain

[bamsara]

whatever. drink, my tortie

[gigglemugger]

The Naked and the Blind (or The Ballad of Meg Halsey) | Chapter 3.

Fandom: Re-Animator (Movies - Combs), Herbert West - Reanimator - H.P. Lovecraft.

Pairing: Herbert West/Meg Halsey

Rating: Explicit, or at the very least Mature.

Archive Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence.

Chapters: 1. | 2. | 3. | 4. | 5. | 6. | 7. | 8. | 9. | 10.

Synopsis:

"Meg Halsey had a problem. In fact, she had several problems, the first of which, she acknowledges while looking at her semi empty living room, is that she can't afford to live alone anymore. The second one is that she doesn't wanna go back to her daddy's house again. This would be an inconceivable notion to her thirteen year old self, even her sixteen year old self, but at twenty five, she'd really choose living under the bridge first. Ok. Maybe not that." Meg Halsey is perfect: Beautiful, accomplished, a bright future doctor. She escaped her hometown and moved to New York, where she likely would have stayed forever. After her mother dies, though, she is forced to move back to Arkham and face everything she wanted to leave behind. --- A.K.A I made a tumblr post about how Crampton/Combs are romantically involved in all of their collabs, got replies and decided to write down a suggestion of "what if Meg was the protagonist, not Dan?" Also I did the cop-out summary thing and pasted the first paragraph of the fic. It's highway robbery. Criminal (I'm sorry).

Word Count: Multi Chapter, so far 9 285.

AO3 Tags: I uhhh......... I have no idea what I made it started with one tumblr post then one reply and here we are, I included other works by Lovecraft here and rounded Arkham up and then ran, Character Study, In a way, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Dan Cain, he doesn't exist, Danbert shippers cry I get it, Canon-Typical Violence, Animal Death, Eventual Romance, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, this fic is an affront to god just like herbert's reagent, Not Beta Read.

Language: English.

CW: Meg went through some trauma. Dead parents, dead cat. She also helps kill her dad later on, considering, so. It's a heavy fic, but if you liked the movie you'll be fine.

Chapter summary: Asenath comes back. Meg does someything her younger self wouldn't do.

AO3 link.

Chapter notes:

Another make or break chapter, I think this one REALLY dictates whether or not you'll like where I'm going, cause all things are falling into place more or less. Anyway, yeah.

3. Your heart is a tart; My body's rent.

Meg was sixteen. She was standing by the stairs, going against her curfew. It wasn’t storming outside, but it was drizzling. She had her arms wrapped around herself and her white nightgown.

It was 1976. 1 am.

Meg listened to the rain. She knew that it was gonna be storming the entire week because she wanted to go out with Tommy Brooks, and couldn’t—which for a sixteen year old, was close to being told she was going to be executed on public square tomorrow.

“What kind of a name is Tommy?” Her mother asked at the lunch table, twisting her nose. “Not Tom? Tom is a strong name… Tom Brooks…” She took a sip from her glass of white wine. Meg observed the movement, slightly turning her head. Her mother’s bracelets tinkled.

Julia Halsey never drank much, not even when she was young, yet Meg started to see her do it more and more often: At dinner, at casual parties, at reunions her parents threw, at lunch sometimes for a pick me up, in the afternoon for a nice boost… Meg saw the bottles on the counter in the kitchen, halved, and yet her mother never seemed drunk to her. She always seemed collected, smiling and cheering. Her hair was perfect, her blue eyes were the exact amount of wet to indicate emotion. Her nails were groomed. Her suits were ironed.

That night, though, she was sure her mother must have been positively drunk. She had to have been, to be yelling that much and that loud.

A sneaky thunder caught Meg by surprise, and she jumped out of her skin, which was embarrassing. She hadn’t been afraid of storms since she was at least ten—which was a whole six years behind her, thank you very much. Meg took a deep breath, put her hair behind her ear, and started walking.

The wood floor was warm, but still sent shivers through her spine. The many rugs the Halseys had at home were sporadic, so the further comfort of them came and went under her. She could feel the breeze coming from underneath the front door and she could hear the rain picking up, which was strange, but fitting, as if the whole world was a stage and she was the main performer.

When she looked forward, it was as if the path to the library stretched impossibly.

Her mother’s voice became louder.

“...Your life!” She was saying, following it up with a loud, strained laugh. Meg haltered for only a second, curiosity pumping blood through her veins—a perfectly natural side effect of adrenaline.

She should be in bed. She should take another step.

“...this, remember?” Her dad now, probably on the other side of the room, speaking way lower than her mother had been.

Meg looked at the vase positioned by the wall next to the door, which was closed. Her parents always complained that the vase might break if anyone angry enough were to open the double hinged door with anger, forgetting their surroundings.

“Well, that’s unlikely,” Meg said, with a glistening smile. “None of you two are ever mad at me, or at each other.”

She stopped by the vase, as if to protect it. You and me, now.

“I… Well, I wanted…,” her speech was slurred. Something else they complained about was how thin these walls were for such an old house. She complained about it, too.

We can’t have sex in my room, Tommy, my parents will hear it!

“You wanted a daughter,” he answered, angry, tired. “You wanted to get married. You wanted kids. You wanted this house, I bought it for you!” Her mother was sobbing.

Meg heard her mother cry one other time, when she was eleven. She had to pick her up from school when class was canceled due to a teacher’s absence. She had pulled up in her white, beautiful car Meg could never remember the breed of, with a bright smile.

“Hi, honey. Had fun?”

“Gym was killer today,” she said, dropping her bag. “Can I sleep in the backseat?”

“Of course, as long as you showered.”

“Mom!” Meg opened the door, heavy for her small body, and climbed in. “Of course I showered! That’d be gross!”

“Good. Have a good nap, sweetie,” and so she did, until her mother started making too much noise.

The radio played ‘In The Mood’ by Glenn Miller. Her mom had always liked that song. What was wrong? Meg could hear it playing faintly in the background of her mind—or as if someone had a jukebox nearby, which would be impossible.

The room felt fuzzy.

“...What about the rest…” Julia was speaking softly now. “I was at Miskatonic too, once upon a time.”

“To be a sociologist,” her dad paused before continuing. He sounded almost pleading. “You would never have had the life you had now if you had become that. A sociologist, a scientist of society?” He made a mocking sound. “Jesus…”

“I wanted to go to New York.” Julia sounded defiant.

Meg looked at the vase. The rain picked up. She looked to her front. West was there.

“New York would have killed you. Imagine, Meg might have never existed if you went.”

West was looking at her with a silver coin on top of his hand. Meg narrowed her eyes. It was dark, the coin was shining. ‘In The Mood’ was playing. He slid the coin between his fingers, expertly picking it up before it fell to the floor.

“Meg is a treasure…” Her mother said. Another thunder. West passed the coin over each finger.

“What are you doing here?” She finally asked, keeping her voice low. He stopped the coin.

“It’s your dream, Ms. Halsey. What am I doing here?”

“You killed Gruber.” He snickered.

“Did I?” She paused. “Is that all?”

Who’s Gruber?

I’m sixteen…

Tommy is gonna break up with me…

“I should have gone to New York,” her mother’s slurred speech said. The song picked up. West snickered. The rain was hitting the window and she didn’t remember it being so strong the night it all happened.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have a life here. You should stop drinking and be more grateful.”

“I always liked Pennsylvania 6-5000 better,” Meg said, to herself. Herbert West nodded.

“Yes, I’m sure you would.” He put the coin in his pocket.

“I should have gone to New York…”

The beige lobby with fluorescent lights.

West was beside her, looking at the phone.

Two men left, the breeze.

“I’m not doing so great, sweetie…”

“What do you mean? Mom?”

“I…”

The cracking thunder cut through the night, putting Meg out of her misery, making her jump halfway out of her bed, almost falling. She gasped for air and touched the bed underneath herself. Arkham. I’m in Arkham… Her heart was sinking into her stomach, a sensation that wasn’t real, but felt like it. Her silky sheets, a house warming gift from her dad, were drenched in sweat. She never remembered her dreams, she remembered only the sensation of them.

The clock sounded from the living room, the only thing that made noise, Felix the Cat’s eyes going from side to side. Rufus jumped on the bed and she squealed, but he didn’t budge, putting paw over paw over her legs and nesting.

“Hi honey. I’m sorry,” she murmured and petted him behind his little black ears. What was the dream about? “Pennsylvania 6-5000…” What?

Meg sighed. She picked the cat up and hung her legs over the bed, touching the cold floor.

“Let’s go. I’ll fill your bowl, ok?”

Television on, white noise. Books, books, books… Her eyes were crossing. No class that day, which was good because she didn’t really wanna see anyone. Her dreams always lingered with her. Sure, the leading psychological theory on dreams was that they were utter nonsense—and many doctors’ leading theory on psychology was that it was utter nonsense too, so she was at a loss.

Felix said it was nine am. She had been studying since she woke up, trying to commit thing after thing to memory, as if she didn’t already know everything…

A knock on the door. Meg looked at it. A book escaped her hand and fell to the floor with a thud.

Reason stated that West wouldn’t come back, not after her very categorical denial—but maybe he was a murderer, or at the very least a necrophiliac.

Maybe that’s why he’s not interested, I’m not dead. Why do you care so much? God.

Murderers don’t care.

Another knock.

“Stay put, Rufus,” Meg said, getting up, as if he needed the order—or cared. She crossed her arms and cautiously approached the door, only at the last moment deciding to rip the band-aid and open it with full force.

“Oh.”

“Hi. I’m… Ace. We’ve met?” The small goth was staring at her, no boyfriend in sight. She also looked like an omen of death, but a nice one, in a way, with the rainy weather behind her.

“Yes, of course. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, thanks for asking though.” Ace reached into the pocket of her long black skirt, her abundance of necklaces moving with her, to bring out a piece of paper much like West did. “You were looking for a roommate?” Meg closed her eyes in relief.

“Yes. Sure, of course. Come in.” She stepped away to let the woman through.

“Thanks. Cool place!” Meg smiled.

“Thank you, my dad helped me find it. Cheap, but clearly not cheap enough.” Ace stopped. “No offense, but I thought it was weird when I saw the ad. I was pretty sure some man would answer the door and kill me.”

“Why?” Asenath shrugged.

“Aren’t you dean Halsey’s daughter? Aren’t you loaded or something?” Meg crossed her arms.

“Well, I didn’t feel like asking for money. I’m trying to… Make my own life.”

“I understand. I want to make my own life too.”

I see.

A small ‘meow’ and Rufus made himself known to the public. Asenath smiled.

“I didn’t know you had a friend!” She said, bending down to pet him. Meg was gonna say something, but instead she watched her almost new roommate’s body language. Ace looked at Rufus fixedly, hand petting him with small, soft movements.

“Is everything alright?” Her head sprung up.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” she raised a hand to her face, before standing up, looking at Meg.

Was she crying?

“What’s his name?”

“Rufus...”

“Oh.”

“Are you sure everything is alright?”

“Yeah sure, don’t worry. Here,” she reached into the same pocket she had pulled the paper from and took a thick wad of cash. “I have the first two halves here.”

Meg blinked.

“I…I should really think about this… Do you smoke?” Ace shrugged.

“Nope. Not nicotine…”

“If you do smoke anything else, take it outside?” Asenath nodded.

“Sure. Anything else?”

“I don't know… Do you play loud music?”

“I'm quiet, don't worry.” Meg nodded.

“And your boyfriend?”

“I won't bring Eddie here if you don't me want to…”

“No, you can obviously bring him, it's just that I study a lot...” Asenath handed her the cash, putting it in her hands, looking into her eyes.

“We'll be quiet as mice. Promise.” Meg looked at the money and sighed.

“Ok. Sure. The room is yours.”

“Oh, thank God,” she pronounced, with a dramatic sigh. Meg stared. “I thought I was gonna have to hide inside of Ed's house for a while, again.”

“Why don't you live in Miskatonic?” Ace went quiet. “Sorry, I didn't…”

“No, it's fine. I… Have my own thing with my dad. I have a room at the dorm, I just tell my “roommate” to tell him that I'm out every time he comes around, which he does.”

“I see. Well…” Meg thought about it.

She could be trouble. She wondered if letting Ace in was really the best idea, but she needed the money, and it weighed heavily in her hands.

At the end, she sighed. “I won't tell your dad you're rooming here.”

“Really? Thank God. He's weird. Not like that,” Ace added when Meg put a hand on her chest, eyes wide. She changed the subject quickly, “so, were there no more applicants?”

“Uh… Yes. West came by. Herbert West.”

“That weird doctor?” She knew Ace would know who it was with the amount of time she hung around the hospital.

“Yes, him.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish.”

“I hope he didn’t give too much trouble or anything…”

“No, no, nothing like that…” “...If you need me to do a spell against him…” Meg stopped.

“Uh… I'm sorry?”

“A spell,” Ace continued like it was no big deal. “I’m a practicing witch.” So Edward is into the occultist portion of the Derby-Pickman-Uptons. “I moved to Arkham because it has a very rich history of this sort of thing.”

“Yes, I am aware. Don’t worry about it, though. No need for any spells,” Meg laughed, hoping it didn't sound nervous. “Suit yourself. Do you mind the smell of incense?”

“Nope, not at all.” She actually thought it was nice. She had several friends who lighted it in New York and the smell usually came through the window. It calmed her down, especially before exams. “Where's your stuff?”

Meg closed the trunk, while Asenath put the bag on her shoulder. It was black, like everything else she seemed to own.

“Eddie is gonna bring back the rest. Thanks for letting me stay, honestly.” Meg smiled and they began walking back. “Sure you don't want a spell? It was weird for him to show up unannounced. Besides, there's all sorts of talk…”

“Have you heard anything?” Meg asked. It never occurred to her, asking Ace or Ed, but it should have. She closed her hand on her necklace.

Ace shrugged.

“Nothing conclusive. I mean, if you really wanted to know…” They climbed the small stairs, one by one, “Couldn't you just look through your dad's files and get the one on West?”

Wow. That had never even occurred to her. She hesitated.

“I… I don't know if I can go behind my dad's back like that. He and I have our bumps, sometimes, but…” Ace sat down on the couch and Rufus came towards her. She looked at him again, but didn't let it linger.

“Well, I'll help distract him if you want to sneak in. It's payment in kind,” she added. “No big deal. Not to me at least. I mean, full disclosure, I've never done anything wrong, wrong, but I used to break into my dad's office all the time. It's just something daughters do.”

Meg pondered that.

“I don't… I just don't know.”

Breaking into your dad's office with the aid of a woman you barely know is definitely a bad idea.

“OK, suit yourself.”

It's also not something younger you would do. Ever.

“No. He's weird,” Meg said, after a second. Ace stopped petting Rufus. “I wanna know if he's dangerous. I'm… I'll… I'll do it.”

Great. Impulse decisions land here we go.

So, Megan Halsey, valedictorian, champion swimmer, science fair extraordinaire was currently waiting in the car for her new roommate and her boyfriend to distract her dad, who was supposed to be coming out in a few minutes.

A few months ago and there was no way Meg would go behind her dad's back to do this. It was simple: You don't do anything wrong. Ever. Going up against him on simple things like women's education is one thing. Trespassing is another beast entirely.

Ace, however, said the plan was simple:

“Eddie makes a phone call, in Derby-Pickman-Upton fashion, I go in with Eddie, you stay in the car, we take your dad towards the hospital. No one will even wonder why you'd be going into your dad's office. Do you have the key?” Meg rolled her eyes and smiled.

“No, but my dad forgets to lock all the time. My mother…”she cut herself. Ace didn’t say anything. “...There's a high chance it'll be open.”

“Dr. Halsey!” Edward's voice was heard in the distance. The entrance was full of people coming and going, people who were not paying attention. She wasn't supposed to have class anyway, they might think she went there to get something for her dad. No big deal.

God, what am I doing?!

She looked around herself. Would Ace be mad if she bailed? Why did she care?

The strange woman you let into your house should not have this much control over you…

But she doesn't, does she? It's West. You want to know.

Maybe he's dangerous… Maybe he manipulated my dad. Maybe…

Meg took a deep breath. The air was good in her lungs. She could feel the texture of the steering wheel pressing against her fingers, her mother's graduation ring.

She looked out of the window and observed the couple and her dad. Don't think about it. You're gonna do it. Now shut up. She observed how her father didn't talk to Ace much which she figured made sense. Nothing in Ace was inviting to him—Edward though, he was interesting. English major, sure, but accomplished. Published. He was also rich, naybe he could make a contribution—he'd listen to anything the kid had to say.

He might even offer him my hand in marriage.

Once upon a time, she might have accepted it. Eddie had brown eyes, brown hair, and a good build. He looked sickly, but he was handsome.

Too bad she didn't really care about men anymore.

When the group finally went towards the hospital, she walked out of the car.

“How long do I have to hold him?” Asenath asked. She had Ed beside her. They didn't talk it out, but it seemed obvious he'd help based on the fact Meg was with Ace. Loyalty and all that.

Something you don't seem to have.

Your poor dad. He always gave you so much.

“Uh, just a few minutes. I know where he keeps everything.”

“OK, I'll try to make ten,” Edward said. “I'll just talk about something like, I don't know, a problem with one of your doctors. Right?” Meg smiled.

“Sure. There's this red haired woman… She goes to my class…”

Meg walked into the hallway and smiled at people who looked at her.

“Hello Ms. Halsey,” a teacher said. She nodded towards them, making sure to take good measured breaths—not for her cardiac rhythm, but for anxiety.

No one knows why you're here.

Don't be so obvious!

The door to the office was unlocked. Figures. Her dad was unfortunately too predictable.

The place smelled of old books, dust, and, strangely, of warmth. Sunlight. It was possibly because Meg was projecting.

Places like her dad's office always smelled the same, anyone could imagine it.

She went straight to his desk. Like she said, she knew where everything was. The keys were inside his drawer, which was easily retrievable, no problem there. She was careful not to close it too hard, before once again remembering that no one in the world would think she was trespassing right now.

That was almost comforting.

She took to the other room, with the locked file cabinets, five of them, in the corner. She opened the one furthest away from her, considering that West began with a w, making her life way easier.

…Except his file wasn't there.

“What…?” She asked. There were other students with W—White, Willis, the sort—but no West. “Maybe Herbert? No…” The other names were surnames. Why wasn't…?

Hill? Would Hill have his file? No…

Maybe there is no file yet. West got transferred recently. Maybe it's somewhere else in the building. He couldn't come in without his papers, but it doesn't mean they'd be here already.

Or…

Meg got up, legs sluggish beneath her. She looked towards her father's desk.

Sometimes, when she was little and liked opening every drawer, looking behind every book, she found things: Booze, chief among them. Then, some other time, she found files inside the bottom drawer.

“Why are these here?” She asked her dad. He was coming in, she was sitting on his desk, body almost swallowed by the hardwood. He smiled.

“Hi, honey. Your mom left you here a long time ago?”

“Yeah,” Meg said, lifting the files up. Her dad approached her, leaning down ceremoniously.

“Oh, these are problem students. They go in the bottom drawer.”

“Problem students?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, honey. You won’t end up in anyone's bottom drawer, I’m sure.”

Problem students.

That's West.

Meg sprinted towards the desk and bent down in a pinch. Her ten minutes were definitely up. Sometimes, her dad took a stroll about the grounds to “stretch his legs.” She knew there was a good chance he’d do that, but still…

“C'mon, be here,” she murmured, looking through the drawer. “No… No… Do I know you? No… West!”

“Yes?” She looked up. There, in all his glory, was West, wearing his black suit and coat.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, getting up.

“Well, I go here. This is my place of study. Is that my file?” Meg, like a child, hid it behind her back. He approached her, indignant. “It is my file! You have no right…”

“I have every right…”

“Last time I checked, daughters of the Dean don’t actually have any power other than to go around batting eyelashes to daddy…”

“My dad asked me to come in here and retrieve it.”

“Is that so?” He asked, mocking, with his hands on his hips. Think he’ll pull out a coin from his pocket? Meg blinked. What? “So if I ask your dad about this, he’ll confirm it?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she looked, banging the drawer closed with her boot. West looked down at the noise. “What are you doing here?” She repeated. He stared at her for a few seconds before recomposing.

“None of your business, I needed to discuss something with your father. That is all.”

“That’s vague.”

“That is all you’re getting.”

“Well, he is out,” she said, praying that he went to take his stroll, circling the table. “He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I doubt it. In fact, I’m sure he’ll be back in ten minutes. I’ll wait,” Meg’s nostrils flared. He smiled, sardonic. “Something wrong, Ms. Halsey?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why don’t you wait with me?”

“I have better things to do.”

“Oh, really? Clinic duty? Class?”

“Yes.” He looked at her a beat longer, before retreating, hands in his pockets. Meg gave him a half smile and left.

[selenecrown]

Extreme Bias Game Writing - Leona Kingscholar

I’ve seen a bunch of people do this type of thing where they do stuff with their OCs during EBG games, and thought I’d do so as well to pass to time! So, here! Have my TWST OC Quentin interacting with Leona. I was also going to do it with Adahy, but then I ran out of ideas. Was gonna post sooner, but I got busy. Sorry about that. 

Quentin Nighty-Sallow wasn’t exactly one for sports. 

Not that she couldn’t do it, unlike other certain Dorm Leaders she often worked with, but she didn’t specialize in it compared to other people she knew at Night Raven College. Sure, one of her husbands did has an interest in a certain sport that she got involved with due to her desire to support him in whatever way she could, but other than that, she had decent grades in Andalasia within the Physical Education classes. 

But. . . Because of her homeland’s classes, she has capabilities that apparently above average in other countries. 

And that means unwanted attention for Quentin. Most notably in the sports department, from Savanaclaw students because of that one time she passed Leona Kingscholar during their first year.

It wasn’t a hot or cold day, honestly it was more. . . slightly brisk. It was cloudy outside, but it wasn’t going to rain but it did give some nice shade outside. There also was a light breeze, which added to the brisk temperature. 

For Quentin, on top of the weather, it was the perfect day to run since she was bored from her classes being completely introductory today and her needing to get the annoyance off her chest. 

Wow. I wasn’t expecting them using the whole class time for introductions. The  only Andalasian in the school grounds thought to herself, as she sighed in the stands of Night Raven College’s Coliseum. Well, it makes sense that we need it since we’re first years, but Magic, that was so long and boring. I’d rather sit through the entire lecture about the linage of the nobleman from Lady Ratched for a day. 

“Sallow! You’re up!” The brunette gym teacher bellowed from his place in the stands, with other first years around her seeming relived it wasn’t them who was called. 

“Yes Vargas sir!” She called back, and stood up from her spot in the stands within her classmates in 1-D, which was the class almost straight across from her teacher Aston Vargas. 

And then, the whispers came back.

‘Ah! The Andalasian is gonna try to run the track!’

‘Really? Pfffft. He won’t make it that far. Look at him. He’s got nothing on him!’

‘You think he’ll make it without passing out?’

‘I bet 50 Madol not!’

‘He speaks so weird too. You think that’s his accent?’

‘No way. I bet he’s learning Common from hearing us. His accent must add to it.’

‘I’m actually kind of excited for this. He’s in my other classes and he looked so bored in the others classes and the teachers didn’t bat an eye at it. What a prick! This’ll teach him a lesson!’

Quentin simply walked up to the track and stood next to an Savanaclaw student. A lion beastman with dark brown hair and green eyes from what he looked like at Quentin’s quickly glance of him.

“So you’re the Andalasian?” The lion beastman simply chuckled as he scanned Quentin’s transformed body that she’d recently drank a potion to change to be more male looking. “You’re more pathetic-looking than I’d thought you’d be.”

“What of it?” Quentin simply answered, not even looking at the beastman and getting into her normal running position, which was her just pushing one of her feet back and arching her other leg forward and then tapping both of her feet on the track. Though, tapping her feet on the pavement on the track was more out of habit then anything else.

“I picture you much differently.” The Savanaclaw student smirked confidently as he crouched down to the ground in his running position without breaking eye contact with her, “I thought you’d have some meat on you. You’re so fucking skinny, it’s sad. Shit, you have an eating disorder?”

Ah. He’s one of those types of people-

Quentin was about to respond before she saw the instructor’s starter pistol being raised in the air, and after a few seconds of Quentin not answering him, the beastman seemed confused at first as to why he was being ignored until he saw the starter pistol about to be set off, and then he confidently smirked and looked ahead of him.  

“Are you ready, skinny freshman?!” Vargas yelled as the starter pistol’s sound rang out into the air. 

As soon as the puff of air sounded in the air, two freshman dashed in front of the frazzled other freshman that once stood at the same starting line as the two that took off. 

One freshman was a Savanaclaw student that rushed ahead with the power of a panther and seemed to intimate the other students at the starting line with just his smug and confidant smirk, like he knew he’s going to wipe the floor with the other students despite the other student rushing past him as if he were walking.  

While the other student of Ramshackle dorm at seemed purely focused on the task at hand, which gave her a look of pure confidence and slightly prideful look on her face like she was looking down on everyone else, when in reality she was trying to work through her anger from her classes in her head while running.

The Andalasian moved almost inhumanly to the others on the coliseum, even seeming to stun the instructor and the lion beastman for a few minutes, like she had managed to push the boundaries of the human body’s capabilities, as the the others in the area, she seemed to be moving just as fast as a beastman would be able to. She was leaving everyone else in the dust with her running, and was not slowing down any time soon. 

The dark brown haired beastman seemed pretty amused by at the Ramshackle student’s running ability as he let out a loud laugh that seemed to scare some students as he seemed to be getting ready to sprint. 

“Haha! Now, that!” the beastman once more confidently smirked. “Is what I’m talkin’ about.”

The sprint the beastman gave had a gust of air that caused some students to slow down their running to a jog, but it seemed to get him close enough to Quentin to talk. 

“Well, count me impressed. I didn’t expect you to be a cheetah in a mouse’s clothing.” He laughed once more as the girl seemed to take notice of him. 

“Ah, really?” She answered innocently, looking towards the lion beastman that now ran next to her left side.

“Certainly better than the herbivores over there.” the boy laughed as he ran. “They’re still behind us.” 

The lion beastman motioned behind him, where there indeed was the other group of students a decent miles away. They didn’t even seem to be half of the way done while Quentin and the beastman certainly was almost to the three-fourths mark. 

“Indeed.” Quentin said, as she looked behind her within even slowing down. “They’re much slower than I expected. I thought since Andalasia was old-fashioned compared to other countries I’d be the last one. It seems I overestimated some here.”

The Beastman snorted at that comment. “Cocky. I like you already. But you can’t beat me.”

“Oh, really now?” Quentin smirked as the two came closer to the finishing line, gaining some amusement from the beastman’s cockiness.  

“I’ll race ya.” 

“For what? You do not exact seem like one to do something without a reward.” 

“Preceptive, aren’t you? The winner gets the other’s good stuff from their lunch.” 

Quentin seemed to think on it a few seconds, and then simply sighed like she knew she wouldn’t win this argument. “Then, I accept.”

The beastman smirked at her accepting her challenge, and then sprinted ahead, then a few seconds followed by Quentin doing the same. The two freshman kept sprinting and sprinting until one of them crossed the finish line. 

And the winner crossed the line with a surprised look on their face, as if they weren’t expecting this to happen. 

Even to this day, three years later, Quentin Nighty-Sallow gets challenges from an assortment of people who thought they’d be the strongest in the school in the beat her. Though, it’s mostly Savanaclaw students who want to place Leona’s place, mostly under the guise of not wanting the rumor of somebody being above their dorm leader. It’s been a while since she got any other dorm on the account of beating Leona. Last time she got a student from another dorm. . . Wasn’t it from Octavinelle? Oh well. it was so long ago Quentin could barely remember. 

Like challenging a person for a challenge three effing years ago will prove anything to anybody.

But, if it made them happy, Quentin guessed. 

“Hey!” Someone called. “Ramshackle brat!” 

Oh Mana. Not now with the Savanaclaw idiots. Please, for Magic’s sake, I’ve got a meeting with Crewel in ten minutes. Quentin thought angrily to herself, as she gripped at stack of papers she was holding to express her anger. He’ll give me more lab work if I’m late!

“Yes?” Quentin simply asked in her kind voice as she smiled, stopped and turned to the students who called her.

Huh. Only two this time. 

“I heard recently you beat my dorm leader in a race.” One of the Savanaclaw students growled at her, Well, he did actually growl at her after he spoke. Not that good of a growl, but still good enough to get a message across. He was a dog beastman, from his physical features.

“Oh really?” Quentin asked, in her innocent tone. “You heard that old rumor?”

“Rumor?!” the other half-Beastman Savanaclaw student simply yelled. A half-horse beastman, from his looks. “We heard it from from forth year buddy! They saw the whole thing!”

“Really?” Quentin simply said, putting an arm on her hip. “Can you tell me who is the forth year who told you?”

The dog beastman made a ‘tch’ noise. “You sayin’ we’re lying?”

“No. I asked who told you the rumor. I want to know where they got the information from.” Quentin said simply. 

“You’re really asking for a lesson, huh you stuck up brat?”

“Yeah, might as well teach them whose boss around here.” The other student finally spoke up as the two got closer to Quentin in an attempt to intimate her, which didn’t work that well since she stood where she was without fear. “Nobody messes with us.”

Great. They won’t listen to reason. Well, at least I’m outside the Greenhouse, or Crewel would’ve killed me for fighting in there.

“Oi. Whose being so noisy?” A voice from behind Quentin said that she recognized, and he did not seem particularly happy at the moment. “I just got up from a quick nap. What’re you all doing makin’ so much noise?”

“Dorm leader!” The Savanaclaw student’s face changed from anger to surprise when they saw Leona walk into the area. “But, Bucchi said-”

“Crewel got me up to go find Nighty-Sallow.” Leona simply said, as he walked up to Quentin and pat her on the shoulder. “He said something about teacher meeting he forgot about.”

Quentin then looked over to her fellow dorm leader with a look of shock, and then of understanding. “I see. Thank you for going through the trouble, Leona.” Quentin simply thanked the lion beastman, who smiled a smug smile in recognition. 

Leona then turned to his fellow Savanaclaw students. “Move it you two. I gotta have a word with him about somethin’.” 

“Yes Dorm Leader!” the two Savanaclaw student said, and quickly ran away, leaving the two dorm leader by themselves outside the large greenhouse. 

After a few minutes of silence between the two as the watched the other two students leave, Quentin spoke up. 

“So, do I owe you one for Crewel waking you up?” Quentin simply asked, turning her body fully towards Leona and holding the papers she had in both of her arms. 

Leona closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if thinking. Then he showed a face of annoyance. “Yeah. He chewed me out really hard today on top of everything else.”

“Sorry about you dealing with that on my account. Anything in particular you want?” The Ramshackle dorm leader asked casually, as the sun started to go down. 

“You to cook some meat for me.” The Savanaclaw dorm leader said, “Adahy’s cooking gets tiring after a while.”

“Ah, really? I thought you liked his cooking.” She teased.

“It gets tiring to eat after a while. Ruggie hasn’t wanted to cook much lately, either.” He sighed and rubbed his head out of habit. 

“Any day in particular you want?”

“Today.”

“What?! So suddenly?!” The girl’s face seemed like she was pouting for a few seconds, and then she simply sighed. “Alright, fine. I do owe you one. But my juniors will come over too. I promised I’d teach Grim how to cook some tuna today.”

“Sure, sure. Just don’t blow up my dorm or you’re paying for it.”

“Yessir.”

[mutemwija]

Enchanted AU

Sorry for the little delay, but here’s the second chapter! It’s probably different from what you expected but I hope you like it anyway 😊You can also read it here or here 🌟

If you haven’t seen them already, check out @siosiri lovely comics for the first chapter! 💖💖

Entering

Bakura

His plan had been foolproof.

Over the past months he had made an effort to learn the prince’s schedule and habits to find the right time and place for his attack. No one but him seemed to notice or care that his royal shortness left and roamed through the city on a regular basis, especially not the guards – what was pretty damn sad when you thought about it – and it was almost too easy to get close to him at those times. And today, only two days before the coronation had been the perfect opportunity.

He had been in hiding and watched them closely, ready to strike his attack at the right moment. But then the events had taken an unexpected event.

He had watched fascinated and confused when his royal shortness disappeared through this fountain and how the girl had first been confused and finally ran away while calling her master in pure panic. When she had left he had sneaked closer to the fountain to see for himself if his victim wasn’t lying dead at the foot of the fountain. All he could see were little sparks of remaining magic, no prince. So, was he just gone? Or had she killed and eliminated him? Maybe turned him into amoeba he actually was.

Now that would be funny!

He made sure to stamp the ground around the fountain as unsuspicious but as hard as he could before he went back to his hideout when he heard them coming back. There he had stayed hidden and listened closely.

And he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Apparently the girl had used a forbidden spell from her master’s book and Prince Atem, precious, inviolable, holy Prince Atem had been conjured away by this little magician girl to Anubis knew where! Kemet was without a ruler, the older magician in a deuce of a stir and he, Bakura was rejoicing in all that he was hearing.

It took quite a lot of his willpower not to laugh out and cheer loudly.

The gods had a sort of humor after all!

What could be better than that? Shorty was gone and that was exactly what he and his client wanted. He could just leave it at that and carry on with his own life and plan.

But… wait. He had wanted to get his hands on the prince to spice up his tedious, royal life with his own bare hands and this stupid girl had robbed him of his greatest chance!

Although… Well, he could just take revenge on the girl instead. She seemed a good enough replacement.

Then again he could feel his client’s stern, ruthless eyes on him like the ever watching eye of Horus and it made him shudder. He could already see his client torturing and probably beheading him instead of the future king and he would very much like to avoid that. Not to mention that besides this was some sort of contract kidnapping (killing to be honest – not by him, he would just torture him to his satisfaction but by his client later…) he had some business to settle with the bastard and to let him get away like that was the last thing he’d allow him to do.

So when he heard this priest talking about following his prince and preparing some dark magic veil he knew there was no other way for him to get what he wanted than following the priest and getting to the prince before he could. He cursed under his breath, checked his surroundings one last time and slowly weaseled his way towards the priest and his apprentice.

In the exact moment the magician threw the magic veil down the fountain and prepared to jump in it, Bakura made the last two steps, shoved him aside with a cackle and jumped down himself, only to be swallowed not by water but in a flood of strange colors and blinding stars that blocked his view in their light and engulfed him until everything around him was pitch black…

Mahad

The moment he saw the flash of silver and red pushing him to the ground, he knew who it was, he knew what he wanted and he knew exactly what was at stake.

It wasn’t only his best friend’s, his prince’s and future king’s life, no, it was the whole country’s welfare that seemed doomed and for a split second he felt pure, ice-cold panic ready to grip his brain. He fought it down again just as fast as it rose – headless rashness wouldn’t get him anywhere when his purpose was already clear.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the portal close but he was quick and already started to open another while he got back on his feet.

“Master…” aside from being puffy from crying, Mana’s eyes were now also widened in shock.

“Don’t worry, it will be alright.” He said in a rush as he concentrated on setting the spell right, again. “Go back to the palace and tell Shimon everything. He’ll understand and know what to do. Go straight to him and tell only him, Mana. Do you understand?”

The intensity of her master’s stare and his tone had Mana standing upright. She nodded once. “Yes, master.”

Mahad nodded back to her and inspected his veil one last time. He was nervous, surely but there was no other way. He had to find Atem and bring him back, preferably in one piece and before this thief.

“Please be careful, master.” Mana called out to him as he readied himself to jump. “And bring him back.”

“Safe and sound.” He gave her a confident smile and jumped into veil to find and rescue his prince.

The colors that surrounded him in the next second blinded and burned in his eyes and he shut them against the light right before he felt his body being swept away at such a high speed that he was unable to draw a single breath. The pressure on his lungs almost crushed him and he thought he would drown in this nothingness.

And then, right before he lost his consciousness he landed hard on something dark. His whole body burned and throbbed and ached and he needed a couple of moments to come to. He almost drank the air around him and filled his lungs with it to even his breathing. Only when his breaths were coming regularly again did he dare to open his eyes.

The sky above him was clouded and grey, rain wasn’t too far away he could tell but everything else was unrecognizable. Lights flashed in the misty air, buildings not made of stone or sand towered above his head and the noise was as ear deafening as the smell was disgusting.

He heaved and turned on his side – and that was when he saw him. Only about two cubits away, coughing and gasping just like him and without thinking further, Mahad shoved his own dizziness aside and with pure effort of will pushed himself up. He rolled his body over the other’s, gripped his arms and immobilized him as best as he could.

“Bakura!” He hissed dangerously low but all he earned in return was a provoking smirk. “What are you doing here?”

“The same as you, priest.” The smirk on his captive’s face turned even more poised. “Search our precious, little prince.”

Mahad shoved him harder into the ground at those words and thought of a way to stall time until he had collected enough magic in his hand. He knew he couldn’t overpower Bakura since the outlaw was physically stronger than him but he could still spellbind him, tie him to this place or make him talk and unveil his plans.

Everything to keep him away from Atem!

But something was off. Somehow this place or this world drained his magic and the time and energy he needed to ready such a simple spell was far too much. If things continued like this he couldn’t afford using too much or too long if he ought to bring not only Atem and himself but maybe Bakura home too. He had to be quick and he needed the rest of his magic to find Atem.

“And do what?” He pressed although he already knew the answer but he hoped Bakura was distracted enough not to realize that he had raised his hand.

“Oh, a lot of things.” Bakura teased, narrowed his eyes at Mahad and with a swift move turned them over and reversed their positions. Mahad tried to cast him off but Bakura’s grip was hard as iron and his grin manic. “This for example.”

A quick move of hand was the only warning Mahad got before a hot, sharp pain flashed through his side and he again gasped for air, desperately trying to keep himself from showing weakness with a scream. He felt his blood soaking his robes, the pain nagging at his sane mind and he concentrated it all on containing his magic.

If it would only bind Bakura for a moment he could have a chance of getting away.

But he hadn’t carried his thought to the end when Bakura’s next blow hit him right in shoulder and the magic he’d collected in his hand dissolved into the thin air he took it from.

He grunted in the back of his throat, still suppressing a scream and watched in growing horror as Bakura’s already feral smirk widened even more.

“Don’t you worry, priest. I’ll bring the prince to you.” He snarled and the air left Mahad’s lungs all at once when the thief’s weight lifted from his hurting body. Atem’s face appeared before his inner eye, the face of the one he swore to protect and give his life for and set out to find him in this bizarre realm. He could only imagine what he was going through at this very moment and where he was, but he needed to find him. He had to get to him before Bakura could! With a last struggle he tried to shake him off completely but Bakura used his wriggling to drive the knife into his upper leg with full force and then hissed in his ear. “Piece by piece.”

Mahad barely heard the mad cackle over the sound of the pained scream that was finally ripped from his throat and he could do nothing but watch helplessly as the thief disappeared into the shadows to which his senses began to fade as well.

[solum-detective]

B x L x Naomi drabble for @tchhanclas ~~ 

No one quite understood why the rain had the effect it did. For Naomi, it was just another change of weather. Sure, it could be relaxing, but that was about it. But for B and L...it was different. They would both go quiet, and disappear into their separate bubbles of muted melancholy. That wasn’t to say their reactions were identical, however. L isolated himself, working to the point of exhaustion, while B often just ended up soundlessly requesting attention. Additionally, L could pull himself out of said slump much quicker than the other. It was just how things were.

Tap...tap...tap...

‘Here we go again…’ Naomi thought to herself as the rain began to orchestrate a symphony of dreariness overhead. She abandoned her current work, knowing the outcome of the weather all too well. This wasn’t to say she dreaded it, being around the other two was actually something she thoroughly enjoyed. That notion was helpless to suppress the sigh that somehow escaped when she drank in what exactly was going on. L was in his usual corner of the room, motionless except for his fingers typing on the laptop, and his eyes reading about who-knows-what kind of a gruesome topic. He had been in the exact same position when she had checked on him hours before. B was a different story. It looked as if he was suffering the aftermath of failing to receive any sort of affection from the other detective; he was draped across the couch rather dramatically. He murmured a few words in greeting. L said nothing. Naomi made her way over to the silent man, somehow conveying irritation without speaking.

“C’mon. It’s about time you took a break.” She knelt down beside him, clearly not prepared to take no for an answer.

“Five more minutes, ple-” His protest was cut off, as Naomi pulled him away from the computer by the collar of his shirt, in the direction of the couch. “You really didn’t have to do that.” He grumbled in complaint, not moving from his new location at the foot of the couch. Beyond watched this exchange through heavily lidded eyes.

“Do I really have to drag you?” Naomi asked, ready to haul him by force if needed. He did end up standing up though, with much protest. She pushed against his chest gently, forcing him to sit down, and left momentarily to find a blanket. When she returned, she found that the two had shifted. In their new situation, B had his head resting on the armrest of the couch, and L had nestled himself against his waist. The detective in question had nearly dozed off watching the rain in a nearby window. Quietly, Naomi wrapped the cloth loosely around them, and gently persuaded them into moving to let her reside between them. Instantly, they both curled in her direction as if on instinct; B’s head against her chest, and L’s on her shoulder. She laughed softly. They never changed.

The gentle whispering of the rain eventually came to a halt, but none of the three stirred quite yet. They desperately clung to this moment of silence, allowing it to linger for just a little while longer. After a few minutes, when she was sure they had both fallen asleep, Naomi tried to stand up.

“Don’t even think about it.” Beyond growled, holding onto her a little tighter, leaving woman no choice but to stay still. Resigned, she allowed him to intertwine their fingers. L, feeling slightly neglected, peppered a few tender kisses along her neck. However infuriating the two could get, Naomi decided that she wouldn’t have it any other way. Curled up between them, sleepily exchanging acts sweetness every few seconds...it was truly ideal. Their life had taken on a loving routine, which Naomi found hard to believe. These two...so cold at first touch. How could it be that living with them felt so warm? There was only as much explanation for that there was for the depressing effect the rain had, she decided. It was a mystery, but a lovely one, one that simply wasn’t meant to be solved. Eventually, these thoughts led the dark fingers of sleep enclosed on Naomi’s mind as well, and all that existed was her, L, B, and the residue of the rain left behind on the windows.

[xxprincessjewelsxx]

Aces Over Eights (Chanyeol Mafia!au Fic) Chapter 4 - Collateral

Warnings: Kidnapping, Mentions of human trafficking 

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10, Ch. 11, Ch. 12, Ch. 13,  Ch. 14, Ch. 15

After getting rid of the red headed man and the others that were following me the feeling of being watched slowly settled down...somewhat. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was keeping a close what on me. Maybe it was just me being paranoid because after a week of nothing happening, I still couldn’t shake the feeling.

I felt it especially when I was alone in public...well, what would be public if my shift hadn’t ended so late. It was now close to nine and I was waiting for the last bus of the evening, rain slowly beginning to drop down on the top of the covered bus stop.

A man in his late 30s came and sat on the other end of the bench. I didn’t really pay much attention to him at first, even though at first glance he wasn’t someone I recognized as part of the regular bus route that didn’t mean he wasn’t new to it and frankly he wasn’t setting off any alarms for me.

“Excuse me miss, do you have the time?” he questioned.

Not taking a second thought I looked at my watch. “Eight fifty-five,” I replied.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Mmhmm...”

There was silence again for a few minutes before a dark SUV pulled up to the bus stop, the man standing almost immediately. “This time Miss Y/L/N...you will not be escaping.”

“Excuse me?” I started just before a bag was thrown over my head and I was roughly shoved into the SUV. This time I had no one to save me...no tall, handsome, red-headed man to come out of no where and save me like last time. I was completely...and utterly...alone.

“You’re a sly little fox...” a man that was addressed as ‘Lao’ said as I stood in front of him. He sat at a large dining table with a glass of wine in hand as he looked me up and down. “Managing to take out my number one collector and his...well his henchmen if you will. Who helped you?”

“I...I don’t know...” I replied.

“Figures...probably would want to keep you in the dark about their identity,” he said, “No matter...tell me, when was the last time you spoke to your parents?”

“My parents? Why? Is that what this is about?” I questioned.

“So many questions...I’ll make you a deal. You answer one of my questions, and I’ll answer one of your, hm? Sound fair?” he questioned.

Hesitant, I nodded.

“Good...now...when was the last time you heard from your parents?” he asked again.

“Three years again when I stopped talking to them,” I replied, “My parents owe you money...don’t they?”

“A lot of money. And I can’t seem to find them...” he replied, “Do you know anywhere that they might go that I might not have checked yet?”

“I don’t know...half the family has cut them off for this exact reason,” I replied, “Why am I here?”

“When people take out a large loan at one of my casinos they have to fill out paperwork just like at a bank...I need to know what I can acquire in case someone fails to pay back their loan, so that I don’t take a loss...” he replied, “I could take the apartment your parents owned, but that does nothing for me...their car is shit, no expensive jewelry left behind. But...there is one thing that is worth some value if used right...and that’s you.”

“Excuse me?” I questioned.

“You’re the collateral for your parent’s debt, sweetheart,” he said.

“How many different ways are they going to screw me with their gambling habits?!” I said in disbelief.

He sat back in his chair and chuckled. “So unless you have two million dollars stashed in your bra...you’re going to be the one paying it back.”

“If I had two million dollars I would be in Bermuda, sipping margaritas and hitting on cabana boys...not working two job!” I snapped, my irritation level on the rise.

“My my...such a temper,” he said. He looked me up and down in thought before look at one of his men. “We’re going to have an auction...and I know what our main attraction will be.”

“Beg pardon?” I said.

“Normally I would put you to work on the streets in one of my clubs in order to begin to pay back the money owed to me...but not this time. I think you will fetch a pretty penny at one of my auctions,” he replied.

“You’re talking about...selling me?” I said feeling my heart drop to the pit of my stomach.

“As long as you’re a good girl it won’t be that bad for you,” he motioned from my to one of his men, “Follow him...don’t worry...he won’t hurt you. You’re a premium item and we can’t afford to have any imperfections on you.”

The man led me out of the room and I looked back at Lao who was sitting there with a proud smile on his face. ‘How am I going to get out of this mess?’

~Chanyeol~

*One Day Before The Auction*

“You want us to go? Why?” Jongdae asked.

“It’s not only an auction, but it’s a business oppurtunity,” Junmyeon replied, “People from all walks will be there...it could be the chance to set up meetings with people we normally wouldn’t have access too...might be good to buy a couple of things while you’re there. I hear Lao always has something valuable...”

“He didn’t say what he has on for auction?” Sehun asked.

“Never does...I’ve heard that there is a very valuable item that’s going to be there though,” Junmyeon replied.

“Wonder what it is...” Sehun wondered.

“Could be just about anything with Lao.”

~Y/N~

The day of the auction came and the man who took me to a small servant quarter room, threw a dress at me. “Change.”

“What?”

“You heard me, change into that dress...you need to look presentable,” he replied sternly.

I had no choice in the matter, I mean...what could I do? Try and fight a guy was was probably three times my size and probably had a gun on him?

I turned away and looked over my shoulder at him. “A little privacy?”

“You’ll get as much privacy as I want to give you...now change,” he said.

My hands started to shake as I began to shake as I began to rid myself of my clothes, the man’s eyes never leaving me as I did. The dress was a simple white one, nothing fancy...but something to make me “presentable” I guess, a maid who I was guessing was not there of her own free will as well fixed my hair and makeup and before I knew it I was being led down a long hallway and out to an SUV.

The ride seemed like it was taking an eternity, they didn’t bother covering my eyes this time...this time they didn’t care if I knew where I was. Because they knew it was a place that I would never see again. 

The SUV pulled up behind a large warehouse, as it pulled around the building I could see several people already filing into the building, their attire suggesting that their wallets were filled to the brim and they were ready for whatever the night had to offer...including me.

As soon as I got into the building I was pushing into a cage that seemed to be on a stage, a curtain draped over it, plunging my vision into complete darkness. But I could here them, all the people that had been invited to the auction and whatever else was going on, the sound of Lao’s men informing the auctioneer of how much money he was hoping to make from me.

“I saw her as you brought her in,” the auctioneer said, her voice in almost an excited tone, “I’m sure she’ll bring that and then some.”

I fell to my knees and held onto the bars of the cage as I leaned my forehead against the bars. How could people be so heartless as to have no second thoughts when it came to selling a human being. How could my own parents use me as collateral in their gambling addiction.

Not once in my life had I ever gambled...

I rarely drank...

I didn’t smoke...

I had never been to jail...

All I really had was a smart mouth that sometimes got me dirty looks from people...what had I ever done to deserve something like this? What had anyone in my position ever done to deserve something like this?

I wanted to cry, but I didn’t get a chance to. The curtain was suddenly pulled off of the cage and I was blinded by stage lights pointed right at me causing me to try and shield my eyes with my hand.

“We have a very special item tonight...you can use her as a lover, you can use her as a maid, you can use her however you please,” the auctioneer said as she circled the cage before grabbing onto the bars of the cage and pulling herself up in a gymnast like fashion so she was sitting on top of the cage, “However you can only have this beauty if you are willing to bid high.”

There were murmurs around the room and not murmurs of people who were disgusted that there was even a suggestion of someone being sold in an auction. Murmurs of interest from men and women a like.

“So...who would like to start the bidding at one hundred thousand dollars?” the auctioneer questioned.

To be continued...

[garywonghc]

Returning Home

by Thich Nhat Hanh

Do you remember anything from your stay in your mother’s womb? All of us spent about nine months there. That’s quite a long time. I believe that all of us had a chance to smile during that time. But who were we smiling at? When we’re happy, there’s a natural tendency to smile. I have seen people, especially children, smiling during their sleep.

Our time in our mothers’ wombs was a wonderful time. We did not have to worry about food or drink. We were protected from heat and cold. We didn’t have to do homework or housework. Protected in our mothers’ wombs, we felt quite safe. We didn’t have to worry about anything at all. No worry is wonderful. I believe many of us still remember that time spent in our mothers’ wombs. Many people have the impression that they were once in a safe and wonderful paradise and now they have lost that paradise. We think somewhere out there is a beautiful place without worry or fear, and we long to get back there. In the Vietnamese language the word for uterus is “the palace of the child.” Paradise was inside of our mothers.

In the womb, your mother took care of you. She ate and drank for you. She breathed air for you, in and out. And I guess that she dreamed for you as well. I imagine you dreamed your mother’s dreams. And if your mother smiled, I think you smiled too. If your mother dreamed about something difficult, and she cried in her dream, I guess that you probably cried with her. You shared her dreams and her nightmares, because you and your mother weren’t two separate people. You were physically attached to your mother through the umbilical cord. And your mother channeled to you through that umbilical cord food and drink, oxygen, everything, including her love. You mother probably took care of her body differently when you were in it. She may have been more careful while walking. She may have stopped drinking or quit smoking. These are very concrete expressions of love and care. You were there, you had not been born, and yet you were the object of love.

Your mother nourished you before you were born, but if you look deeply you will see that you also nourished your parents. Because of your presence in her body, they may have smiled more and loved life even more. You hadn’t done anything to your parents yet, and yet they were nourished by your presence. And their life changed from the moment of your conception in your mother’s womb. Perhaps your mother talked to you before you were born. And I believe, I am convinced, that you heard her talking with you and you responded. Perhaps it happened that occasionally she forgot you were there. So perhaps you gave her a kick to remind her. Your kick was a bell of mindfulness, and when she felt that she may have said, “Darling, I know you are there and I am very happy.” This is the first mantra.

When you were first born, someone cut your umbilical cord. And quite likely you cried aloud for the first time. Now you had to breathe for yourself. Now, you had to get used to all the light surrounding you. Now, you had to experience hunger for the first time. You were outside of your mother, but still somehow inside her. She embraced you with her love. And you embraced her at the same time. You were still dependent on her. You may have nursed at her breast. She took care of you day and night. And although the cord was no longer whole between you, you were linked to your mother in a very concrete, intimate way.

As an adult, you may fight very hard to convince yourself that you and your mother are two different people. But it’s not really so. You are a continuation of both your parents. When I meditate, I can still see the cord connecting me to my mother. When I look deeply, I see there are umbilical cords linking me to phenomena as well. The sun rises every morning. And thanks to the sun, we have heat and light. Without these things, we can’t survive.

So an umbilical cord links you to the sun. Another umbilical cord links you to the clouds in the sky. If the clouds were not there, there would be no rain and no water to drink. Without clouds, there is no milk, no tea, no coffee, no ice cream, nothing. There is an umbilical cord linking you to the river; there is one linking you to the forest. If you continue meditating like this, you can see that you are linked to everything and everyone in the cosmos. Your life depends on everything else that exists — on other living beings, but also on plants, minerals, air, water, and earth.

Suppose you plant a kernel of corn and seven days later it sprouts and begins to take the form of a corn stalk. When the stalk grows high, you may not recognise it as the kernel you planted. But it wouldn’t be true to say the kernel had died. With Buddha’s eyes, you can still see the corn seed in the corn stalk. The stalk is the continuation of the kernel in the direction of the future, and the kernel is the continuation of the stalk in the direction of the past. They are not the same thing, but they are not completely separate, either. You and your mother are not exactly the same person, but you aren’t two different people either. This is the truth of interdependence. No one can be one’s self alone. We have to inter-be to be.

When we are inside our mothers, there is no tension in our bodies. We are soft and flexible. But once we are out in the world, tension creeps in, sometimes from our first breath. Before we can release the tension in our bodies, though, we have to release the tension in our breath. If our bodies are not peaceful, then our breath is not peaceful. When we generate the energy of mindfulness and embrace our breath, the quality of our in-breath and out-breath will improve. As we breathe in mindfulness, our breathing becomes calmer and more profound. The tension in our breathing dissipates. And when our breathing is relaxed, we can embrace our bodies and we can relax. The exact word that the Buddha used translates as “calm.”

There is a Pali text called the Kayagatasati Sutta, the Sutra on the Contemplation of the Body in the Body. In it, the Buddha proposed an exercise for releasing the tension in each particular part of the body, and in the body as a whole. He used the image of a farmer who went up to the attic and brought down a bag of beans. The farmer opened one end of the bag and he allowed all the beans to flow out. With his good eyesight, he was able to distinguish the particular kind of beans and see which were kidney beans, which were mung beans, and so forth. The Buddha recommended that, like this farmer, we learn to pay attention.

To begin, you can lie in a comfortable position and scan your whole body, and then focus on different parts of the body. Begin with the head, or the hair on the head, and finish with the toes. You can say: “Breathing in, I am aware of my brain. Breathing out, I smile to my brain.” Continue with the rest of your body. Like the farmer with his seeds, scan the body — not with x-rays but with the ray of mindfulness. Even fifteen minutes is enough time to scan your body slowly with the energy of mindfulness.

When the fully conscious mind recognises a part of the body and embraces it with the energy of mindfulness, that part of the body is finally allowed to relax and release its tension. This is why smiling is such a good way to help your body relax. Your first smiles in the womb were completely relaxed smiles. There are hundreds of muscles in your face, and when you get angry or fearful they get very tense. But if you know to breathe in and to be aware of them and to breathe out and smile to them, you can help these muscles release the tension. With one in-breath and out-breath, your face can transform. One smile can bring a miracle.

If, during your scan, you come to a part of your body that is sore or ill, stay focused on that part longer. We tend to hurry past pain. But this hurrying causes more tension instead of healing. If we spend more time with what hurts, using the energy of mindfulness, we can smile at our pain and release some of the tension. If we know how to help release the tension in that part of the body, the healing will take place much more quickly.

You may be in real physical pain. Mindfulness will tell you that it is only a physical pain. The Buddha spoke about the second arrow. He tells the story of a person struck by an arrow who is in a lot of pain. Suppose a second arrow hit the man in exactly at the same spot. The pain would be a hundred times more intense because he was already wounded. Worry, fear, exaggeration, and anger about an injury act as a second arrow, aggravating a part of the body that is already wounded. So if you are struck by one arrow, you can practice mindfulness so that another arrow of fear or worry doesn’t hit you in that same spot.

In the Sutra on the Contemplation of the Body in the Body, the Buddha advises us to become aware of the four natural elements within the body. In the womb, these elements of water, fire, air, and earth are completely balanced. The mother balances the womb for the baby, sending in oxygen and nutrients as the baby rests in water. Once we are born, if we have a balance within the four elements, then we are in good health. But often these elements are out of balance; we can not get warm or we find it difficult to take a full breath. Often, our mindful breath can naturally bring these elements into balance.

The Buddha also recommended that we become aware of our body’s positions and actions. In sitting meditation, the first thing is to be aware that you are in a sitting position. Then you can sit in a way that brings you calm, solidity, and well-being. In each moment we can notice the position of our body, whether we are sitting, walking, standing, or lying down. We can be aware of our actions, whether we are getting up, bending down, or putting on a jacket. Awareness brings us back to ourselves, and when we are fully mindful of our body, and living in the here and now, we are in our true home.

Did you know you had a true home? This question touches everybody. Even if you have the feeling that you don’t belong to any land, to any country, to any geographical spot, to any cultural heritage, or to any particular ethnic group, you have a true home. When you were in your mother’s body, you felt at home. Perhaps you long for a return to that place of peace and safety. But now, inside of your own body, you can come home.

Your true home is in the here and the now. It is not limited by time, space, nationality, or race. Your true home is not an abstract idea. It is something you can touch and live in every moment. With mindfulness and concentration, the energies of the Buddha, you can find your true home in the full relaxation of your mind and body in the present moment. No one can take it away from you. Other people can occupy your country, they can even put you in prison, but they cannot take away your true home and your freedom.

When we stop speaking and thinking and enjoy deeply our in- and out-breath, we are enjoying being in our true home and we can touch deeply the wonders of life. This is the path shown to us by the Buddha. When you breathe in, you bring all yourself together, body and mind; you become one. And equipped with that energy of mindfulness and concentration, you may take a step. You have the insight that this is your true home — you are alive, you are fully present, you are touching life as a reality. Your true home is a solid reality that you can touch with your feet, with your hands, and with your mind.

It is fundamental that you touch your true home and realise your true home in the here and the now. All of us have the seed of mindfulness and concentration in us. By taking a mindful breath or making a mindful step, you can bring your mind back to your body. In your daily life, your body and mind often go in two different directions. You are in a state of distraction; mind in one place, body in another. Your body is putting on a coat but your mind is preoccupied, caught in the past or the future. But between your mind and your body there is something: your breath. And as soon as you go home to your breath and you breathe with awareness, your body and mind come together, very quickly. While breathing in, you don’t think of anything; you just focus your attention on your in-breath. You focus, you invest one hundred percent of yourself in your in-breath. You become your in-breath. There is a concentration on your in-breath that will make body and mind come together in just one moment. And suddenly you find yourself fully present, fully alive. There is no more longing to return to the womb, to your perfect paradise. You are already there, already home.

[hannahindie]

True American

Overview: Sam and Reader are left alone while Dean runs errands. Dean comes back to chaos.

Pairings: Sam x Reader, (friendship) Dean x Reader, Surprise Cas

Warnings: Mention of alcohol use and that’s it really. There’s some fluff.

Word Count: 3,088

A/N: So I had an idea for some fluff, and since I don’t write actual happy things very often, I thought  I’d give it a go. Also, I wrote this specifically with @trexrambling in mind because I often break her with my sad series posts. LOL She helped me beta the first part, and the only reason the rest came out as well is because she’s a great inspiration.

I’ve included a hyperlink for those that don’t know what True American is. Just click on WikiHow in the story. :)

You weren’t sure how it happened. One minute, you and Sam were researching in the library while Dean ran errands, and the next minute you were jumping from chairs, to pillows, to tables while trying to avoid the lava on the floor, shouting nonsense, and shot gunning beer. If you took the time to think about it, you could probably pinpoint the exact moment that things got slightly out of hand.

You had been sitting across from Sam, bored out of your mind and trying to read the book he had insisted you look at, when you snuck your phone and earbuds out of your pocket. You cast a sly glance at Sam, then slipped the earbuds in, and propped the phone behind the stack of books that sat neatly in between the two of you. After a moment of browsing, you selected one of your favorite shows, making sure to turn pages on occasion as to not arouse suspicion. (You were nothing if not theatrical) You managed to get three episodes in before you gave yourself away by snorting at a particularly funny line, and Sam had glanced up sharply.

“What was that?” he asked, brow raised.

You smiled innocently. “What was what? I didn’t hear anything.”

“Y/N…” Sam reached over and gently plucked the earbuds out. You had forgotten your hair was pulled back and that your long hair wasn’t camouflaging them like you thought. So much for being sneaky.

You grimaced. “Balls.”

Sam looked at you disapprovingly. “We’re supposed to be researching, you have to take that seriously.”

You rolled your eyes. “Come on. It’s Friday night, Sam. We don’t even have a case.” You pouted, hoping that it would convince the younger Winchester into giving in. He slowly closed his book, looked at you for a moment, then reached around and snatched your phone.

“New Girl? That’s a pretty good show. What else do you like to watch?”

 And that…well, that was where the night took a turn. After discovering that Sam liked watching the show almost as much as you did (you were almost positive it was because he thought Jess was hot, although he vehemently denied it) the two of you had abandoned the books for a couple of beers and were sitting on the couch talking about New Girl and all the other things Sam liked to watch that you didn’t know about. Somehow one beer turned into two, and then two turned into three. And right about then was when you had a brilliant idea.

“Sam! Let’s play True American!”

He looked at you, confused. “Huh? It’s not even a real game, and they don’t even give us all the rules. And,” he gestured around the room, “there’s only two of us.” You stood up, suddenly very determined, and put your hands on your hips.

“Sam Winchester, are you saying that you don’t want to play True American with me? Is big, bad Sammy Winchester scared of losing?” You took off running to the kitchen, and you could hear his heavy footsteps following quickly behind. He found you digging through the fridge to see how much beer you had.

“We don’t even know the rules!” You started stacking cans on the counter, and once the fridge was empty, you began searching for the liquor.

“Oh, I forgot! This bunker is ill-equipped and we don’t have the internet.” You slapped a hand against your forehead and sighed dramatically. “Whatever shall we do?” You threw a glance at him and laughed when you saw a bitch face that rivaled the ones normally reserved for Dean. “Oh, c’mon Sam!” He glared at you a moment longer, then pulled out his phone. He looked surprised when he found a WikiHow page dedicated to playing True American, complete with illustrations.

“Well, it looks like you got the beer covered,” he looked up when you cleared your throat and saw you holding a bottle of Makers Mark, “and the liquor. So now we need to set up the castle, I guess?”

You grinned. “Great! Help me carry all these cans into the living room!”

The two of you made quick work of pulling the coffee table to the center of the room, and then rearranging all the furniture and pillows in their respective zones. When you noticed you didn’t have enough spaces, you split up to search the bunker for more things to safely stand on, and by the time you got everything you needed, the living room was a perfect True American arena. You stood back and grinned at your handiwork, hands resting on your hips.

“Look at that! That is a show worthy playing field, Winchester!”

Sam laughed, “Yea, it is.” He looked proudly at the table in the center, “Probably the best True American castle ever built.”

You snorted, “You bet it is, champ.” You fanned yourself, already hot from the combination of dragging furniture all over and the alcohol you had already consumed. “I’m going to change clothes, these are too hot. And if I’m going to kick your ass, I need to be comfortable.”

Sam laughed, “Kick my ass? I think not, Y/L/N. Meet you back here in five.”

Five minutes later, you and Sam were staring at each other from across the ‘castle’. Both of you had changed into shorts and a t shirt, and you had to stifle a laugh when you noticed Sam had pulled his hair back into a man bun. He noticed you giggling and shot a glare in your direction.

“Laugh all you want, Y/N. We’ll see who’s laughing after I kick your ass.” You crossed your arms.

“You talk big, Winchester, but the bigger you are, the harder you fall.” He rolled his eyes.

“That…that didn’t even make sense. Come on, let’s go. Rock, paper, scissors for who starts.” You smiled inwardly. If you knew anything about the brothers, it was that Dean always threw scissors when playing rock, paper, scissors, and because of that Sam always threw rock.

“Fine. Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” You threw paper, and Sam groaned.

You smiled, “Always with the rock, Sammy boy. Alrighty then…here we go. 1, 2, 3 JFK!!” you shouted, shortly followed by Sam bellowing.

“FDR!” Both of you lunged for a beer and immediately you jumped up onto the couch. Sam ended up on a chair in the opposite corner.

“And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend-“

“Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the ring passed out of all knowledge!” Sam shouted gleefully. He hopped from the chair to a pillow on the floor, then nimbly jumped over to an ottoman. He took a swig from his beer and winked at you.

You sighed, “Dammit.”

The game continued, the two of you moving back and forth, yelling movie and television quotes, occasionally throwing out the random obscenity as your footing became a little less stable or because one of you stole the place the other was planning on moving to. Just as Sam was about jump from the couch to the center of one of the zones to grab another beer, the door to the bunker flew open and Dean stomped in, shaking rain out of his hair. Distracted, Sam lost his balance and landed on the bare floor.  You screamed in victory.

“LAVA. YOU ARE IN THE LAVA. I WIN!” Sam jumped up and grabbed a fresh beer off the table.

“NOPE. You don’t win that easily, not today!” He shot gunned it, and beer sprayed all over him and the floor. He slammed it on the coffee table and crushed the aluminum can in one shot. “HA! Now tell me where to go.”

You glared at him, “Oh, I’ll tell you where to go…” Your threat was interrupted by Dean as he slowly walked the rest of the way into the living room and stared slack jawed at the mess he’d come home to.

“What…? I just cleaned in here, dammit! Did you go in my room for anything?” You threw your arms wide to welcome him home, and nearly fell off the end table you were standing on.

“Deano! Absolutely not! I would never go in your room-“ Dean held his hand up to stop you.

“That is my shirt, Y/N.”

You glanced down and snickered, “I did go in your room. That doesn’t matter! Old stories are like old friends, she used to say-“

“What the hell, Y/N?” he interrupted, frowning slightly. You grinned impishly at him.

“Wrong!” you shouted as you threw a beer at him, “now chug!” He caught and cracked it open in the same movement, then chugged it.

“Are you guys playing True American?” Sam looked at him in surprise.

“Dude, how did you know?” Dean grinned evilly and walked over to grab another beer.

“Let’s Star Trek IV this bitch,” he exclaimed as he jumped up on a chair in the corner opposite of where you were. You grinned widely, surprised that he was really going to play, and pointed at where you wanted Sam to go.

“Move, moose! Dean, go!”

 By the time you were down to the three pawns, Sam was starting to slow down. He was determined to stay in, but you could tell that it was only a matter of time before he bowed out. Dean, on the other hand, was going strong. He was amazing at quotes, and you were beginning to wonder if you were going to lose this game after all. To be fair, you’d become a bit distracted. You had been burying thoughts of Dean for several months, knowing that it could never happen. So far, you had been doing well but tonight the more you drank, the harder it was to ignore him. But True American was serious business, and it was time to get your head back into the game. It was his turn to give another quote, and you waited anxiously. If you could beat him to finishing it, it would put you right next to the castle and all you had to do was get those last three pawns out of the way. Dean started to give his quote when you heard a rustle and Cas popped up in the middle of the zones. 

“Cas, you’re in the lava!” you practically screamed, startling the angel.

“What...lava...I don’t understand?” His blue eyes looked around, concerned. Dean started pointing wildly at the couch.

“Get on the couch, dude! On the couch! You’re gonna lose if you stay in the lava!” Instead of moving, he kept looking between the three of you.

“There isn’t lava, are you three okay? How long have you been hallucinating this lava? Why didn’t you call me?” Sam was choking back laughter as Cas walked over to you and put his hand to your forehead, his brow crinkled as he concentrated. “You’re warm, Y/N. Maybe you should lay down.” You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore, and the angel looked hurt at your blatant disregard of his concern. While Cas was distracted, Sam took two beers off the table and tossed one to Dean, then another to you as Cas turned to face Dean.

“Hey Cas, your scientists were so preoccupied with whether they could that they didn’t stop to think if they should.” Cas titled his head and narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“I don’t understand that reference.” Before he could react, all three of you tossed a beer at him and simultaneously shouted.

“CHUG!” Cas looked between the three of you, then at the beer that had splattered his trench coat, and then was gone.

Dean howled with laughter, “Did you see his face? Oh man, that was...that was good.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Whoooo....that was too worth it. Hope he didn’t need anything important.” He cleared his throat and looked at you, then at the castle. “It’s up to you, Y/N, there’s only one pawn left and you’re the closest. You don’t get this, I could take the win. Ready?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Over my dead body, Winchester.”

He smirked, “Fine, then. We're ten hours from the fucking fun park and you want to bail out. Well I'll tell you something. This is-“

“-no longer a vacation. It's a quest. It's a quest for fun!” you practically screeched. Dean had apparently forgotten your love of National Lampoon movies, and had picked the perfect one.

Dean groaned, “Dammit!” You jumped from the chair you’d been perched on to the pillow in front of the castle and grabbed the last pawn. Sam went to take a sip of beer and remembered that that was the can he’d thrown at Cas. He looked over to the table in hopes of grabbing another one and saw that all of them were now gone. Dean realized what was happening and fist pumped. “Yea Sammy, you’re outta here! You can’t get back in without a pawn.”

“But tha’s not very fair, is it? What if I jus’ go into the kitchen and get another?” he slurred. You raised an eyebrow.

“Do you really want to do that? Your eyes are barely open.” He blinked lazily, his cheeks flushed, and grinned.

“Ha…probably not. I concede this time, Y/L/N. Next time, I’ma kick your ass.” He sauntered off slowly, slightly weaving as he turned to go towards his room. Dean looked back at you, his eyes sparkling.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us now, sweetheart. You wanna just forfeit, call it a day?” You popped open the beer and took a swig.

“Winchester, that’ll be the day. Do you see how close I am to victory? What makes you think that I’m going to give up now?” You were trying very hard to concentrate. You had been drinking for a while, and you could feel the heat on your cheeks. Dean was only a move away from making it to the castle. If he finished your quote, you were done. You stood for a moment and just looked at him. He had kicked off his boots and removed his flannel, and whenever he moved from spot to spot, you could see the little strip of skin between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his jeans. Right now, he was staring back at you, and you realized that your quick glance had turned into a full-blown gawk.

“You gonna go or what?”

You blinked slowly, “Oh, yea, I’m just thinking of a good one.” An idea comes to you. It’s a dangerous one, one that could cost you the game, but you were willing to risk it. Because if you could win using this quote, you’d never let Dean hear the end of it. “I want him dead, I want his house burnt to the ground, I want to go to his house and piss on his ashes!” Dean opened his mouth halfway through your sentence, but then his eyes widened and he stayed silent. You realized as soon as he started opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water that you had him. He recognized it, he knew exactly what it was, yet he couldn’t remember it.

“No!” You grabbed the bottle of Maker’s Mark, cracked the seal, and thrust it in the air in victory.

“Know what that was from, Deano?” You took a swig of the bourbon and relished the burn as it slid down your throat. You were feeling brave, so you took a couple of steps toward Dean as you took another shot of bourbon straight from the bottle. The thought of regret in the morning crossed your mind, but you ignored it in favor of what the liquid courage was going to get you tonight if you played your cards right. He raised an eyebrow but stayed perched on the back of the chair he had previously been standing on. You stopped when you got to the front of the chair, looked him dead in the eye, and took another swig of bourbon.

“Do you really not remember what movie? It’s one of your favorites.” You put your knees in the seat of the chair, in between his feet, and leaned in close enough that your lips were barely brushing his ear. “You wanna get Capone? Here's how you get him. He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue! That's the Chicago way,” you whispered.

Dean groaned, “The Untouchables….how did I not remember that?”

You grinned, “I took a chance. Maybe you were just distracted.” Dean pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and sighed.

“Yea…distracted.” His hand slid to the back of your neck and he pulled you into him, his lips soft against yours. You could feel his fingers intertwine with your hair as he pulled you closer. You’d imagined this moment a thousand times and nothing even held a candle to this.

Dean pulled back and muttered, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“I’m not.” You hopped off the chair, sat the bourbon on the coffee table, and started to make your way back to the bedrooms. Dean stood there watching after you until you turned around and winked at him. “You comin’, Winchester?” You disappeared around the corner and by the time he caught up to you, you had stopped in front of his door. He watched as you took a deep breath, then pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in just a bra and shorts. “I believe this belongs to you,” you said, grinning. He walked right up to you, closer than you’d been before, and stared at you for a moment.

“How drunk are you?”

“Drunk enough to know that I want to do this. Not so drunk that you should feel guilty about taking advantage.” Dean searched your face for a moment, trying to decide if he believed you, then kissed you again.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours.

You smiled, “I can probably guess.” The smile he gave you in return was bright, and you couldn’t help but notice how he was looking at you. Your calculated risk earlier not only won you the game, but also the oldest Winchester. As he picked you up and carried you into his room, you made up your mind to play True American with him more often.

Tags: @trexrambling @wheresthekillswitch @emptywithout @sassyspn67 @pinknerdpanda @hiimaprofessionalfangirl​​​

[ecotone99]

[SP] The Neon Witch

Rain falls on the city, it spread a chill that could be felt well within the steel bones of the towering skyscrapers that dote the landscape. The city spans from one horizon to another in a blanket of concrete, metal, glass and glowing light.

As one descends from the skyline, the crystal villas, to the underbelly below, far past the floating billboard signs and levitated pathways where you can hear the rushed steps of city dwellers and work-bots alike, there lies the makeshift slums where only those with strong constitutions for terrible odors and a strong grip on their wallets, would dare to venture.

The rain puddles in the narrow alleyways, winding through nondescript buildings and metal doors leading to who knows what and to whoever lives in this derelict part of the glimmering, metropolitan paradise called the Neon.

Neon was a city built on the glowing lights that bewilder those who gaze at them but could burn your eyes if you stare too long at their mesmerizing patterns of lights as they dance along the building facades.

However, down below the lights are dimmer and when one has their senses return to them as they see the city in a different way. A cold maze of slowly decaying brink walls and poor fools who managed to carve a home into unforgiving concrete, usually by forcing their way into a small piece of it.

A young man with a devil grin and determined eyes ventures deep into the heart of the below city. His shiny black clothing and strong stride, glowing with confidence, in his step say it all to the locals who whisper "He's not from below."

He presses a path through the grim archways and small campfires where loners and even families are huddling away from the rain with the help of broken awnings above them.

The man pressing forward stops suddenly. Removing his dark glasses, he looks towards the rundown bar nestled in a narrow alley ahead of him. No name or number, just a dimly light sign reading, "BAR and FOOD" and a door next to it. Yet, there was something there where the man knew he was in the right place. The small symbol etched in the brick just below the sign. An eye with two hands together in the symbol of someone praying underneath.

He knew she was here.

He opens the squeaking, metal door to find a musty bar with the barkeeper eyeing him for a brief moment as he hands a customer a beer.

The bar had only four barstools and several worn tables scattered about. A few patrons were sipping their drinks quietly as music played away on the music player off to the side of the bar. It was the only brightly lit thing in the whole place with its little LED lights on its casing as the rest of the room was cloaked in shadow and dust. Most of the customers were men with hollow looks in their eyes as they drank beer after beer. They couldn't care less that there was a man among them who clearly didn't belong there was standing in the entrance. One or two maybe glanced up for a moment before going back to chugging away at the alcohol.

The man lets the door swing shut with a loud bang.

Surefooted and standing tall, he approaches the bar and sits to order a drink.

"A whiskey, please." The barkeeper picks up a bottle and pours him his requested drink, placing it in front of the man without a word.

The man takes a long swig of the drink, downing the whole thing in one go.

"I'm here to see her."

The man behind the counter stares at his customer for a moment before nodding. He takes the now empty glass and points to the door at the other end of the room.

"She's been expecting you, Dominick. The drink is 20 credits by the way."

He glances over at the barkeeper but the man was already scurrying off to clean the cup and do whatever else he has to do.

Dominick stands while leaving the money for the barkeeper on the table.

As he stands before the unassuming door, he sees the symbol again carved just above the handle.

Opening it, he is swept up in the smell of mold, jasmine, and cigarettes.

Before him, was a long hallway lined with dim lights and worn posters on the walls. At the end of the hallway was a door that was partially opened, light coming through as well as soft music playing. Dominick strode to the door and opened it fully.

Inside was her, Isabella.

The witch of the underbelly, the eye beyond the neon hue, the one who tempts and twists the fates of those unlucky enough to be in her presence.

She was lounging on a beat-up couch next to a small end table. A lamp was in the corner as the only source of light as well as a disk player spinning away. On the table was ten or so cards placed in a particular pattern of which Dominick is unsure of its significance. Silently gazing at them, she flipped each card. After revealing the last card she stares at it for a long moment, thoughts dancing in her eyes. Taking a long drag of a cigarette she had in her other hand she exhales the smoke while peering over at her visitor. A wicked smile on her face and she moves gracefully, like royalty, to sit up and greet her guest.

"Dominick, I trust you had no trouble finding me again?"

He snorted, "Actually your pretty hard to track down, I been all over this shithole going from clubs, to drug dens, to brothels, to the gambling dens near the port. But of course, you're in some scuzzy little bar underneath the fashion district."

She shrugs, "The vodka is not bad here. Melvin lets me use this place since my clients also means potential customers for him. It's a decent trade-off. Come and sit I already had to wait long enough for you to show up."

"It would have been quicker if you didn't pick up and vanish again. Last few times, it was just checking in a few hotspots but this time you seemed to just disappear..."

"You know I have to keep moving, Dominick, it's not safe for me to linger. You know this..." she cut him off before he could say anything else.

She puts her smoke out in an ashtray on the table, "Come on, I already started your reading."

"I'm not here to get my future told," he says.

She smirks up at the man, "Oh come on, I'm already got what you need and then some, just humor me a little." It's her smile that makes him acquiesce.

"Fine."

He sits down and watches as she moves the table closer to him.

Card reading was made illegal in Neon ages ago. Since the city's inception, soon after the third rebellion, many pieces of human culture has been outlawed or if not made illegal, generations of young minds were fed the idea of the old world is that of a sinful time. Something that needs to be erased. Soothsaying is one of the few things that we know for a fact is of the times before Neon. Eons before Neon was even a thought.

Some use cards, bowls of water, or just simple meditation. Yet, dark rumors tell tales of those using blood, bones and even flesh to tell the future.

The stories even made Dominick uneasy, a man who had been through and seen the worst of Neon.

The cards were placed in the form of a large circle, the cards facing outwards.

"Each card tells of your journey, from beginning to end."

She pointed to the card at the top, "You started here."

The card was the Hierophant, the wise man with the keys to heaven. The one that builds the bridge between man and deity. Dominick knows of its meaning, knows of what he was ages ago.

Isabella glances at Dominick and continues her reading. She points to the card after it.

The next card was one he knew of well, The Tower.

Disaster, upheaval, the destruction so fast that there was no time to contemplate. As the lightning struck the tower in the picture, the fire quickly consumes all in its path.

Everything was burned. Even the people jumping from the tower were burning in the picture...screaming in terror.

Dominick suddenly stood up, "I have no time for this crap. Do you have what I need?"

She nods and moves to another part of the room. She lifts up floorboards that are loose and carefully places them to side as she retrieves what was hidden below the floor.

"...these are HIGHLY illegal to have on you Dominick, I nearly got caught by the patrollers getting these from that bastard dealer, I don't even know why the hell I went through with this..."

"I SAVED you, if it won't for my position, you would have been executed already. You owe me and after this, I'm through...I can easily have you sent back to the cages, or hell I can just kill you know and no one would blink at another dead vagrant."

Isabella was shaking, tears falling down her cheeks. Looking over at the man, she could see the deep rage and hatred consuming his eyes. Like he wasn't even Dominick anymore, but something far worse.

"Fine, here you are. Just take them and get out."

She takes out a large metal box and several burlap sacks and practically threw them at him.

He quickly shifts through them and smiles at what he sees.

Weapons. Military-Grade weapons. No one in Neon except for the high guards, his royal highness, and his yes men Dukes have anything close to the firepower he was now holding.

So many years of careful planning and now, he had the last piece of the puzzle. The tools he needed to exact his plan. It made him feel an almost drunk sensation in his brain. The task would finally be done and he would finally feel whole.

On shaky feet, Isabella touched his arm. "Please...Dominick." But he pushes her away and threw a wad of credits at her face.

"That's 10,000 credits as we agreed." Without another word, he takes the weapons and slams the door as he leaves.

Isabella falls onto the couch, breathing heavily to regard her composure.

She glances over at the cards again. After the tower there a few more she was hoping to show him.

The Magician card, the reversed temperance...the lovers...and then the Empress.

After that was the card she so feared most of all, the devil. The card with an image of a monstrous beast with hoofed feet and horns on its head. Staring at her with such malice and cruelty it brings more tears to her eyes.

Leaning back, she gazing at the ceiling. She thinks of the past and how even her skills as a card reader couldn't untangle the thick web that is her own future.

She was lost to her musings when the door opens again. She wasn't expecting another visitor.

Staring at the figure in the doorway, she suddenly realized who it was.

END.

​

(I hope you like it, I haven't written any short stories in years, let me know what you think. I may do a few more of these when I have time. This one took me awhile)

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