#i hope whoever had to clean up our table is a death note fan

[hasilballward]

they’ve taken over my mind

[deathlyharlows]

delphinium + lizzie

delphinium: school rivals au + @geminislegacynote: you get a hogwarts au too because apparently, i don’t know how normal school rivalry works. ( also, i’m twitching the ages– students get their letter at 13-14 yolo )warnings: death, war, same ol’. 

                                  “scared, saltzman?”                                                                                                             “you wish.”

albus dumbledore was a wise and benevolent man. always finding value even in the most wretched of people. it was this what sometimes blinded him. it was this, what made him commit not one, or two, but three mistakes. 

he’d gotten a lead to a dingy muggle foster home, ever since three kids arrived there. weird things had been happening. none of the caretakers knew what to make out of them, they had tried anything– as much as calling a priest to try and expel the DEVIL out of the two girls and the boy. it wasn’t every day that three magical children found their destiny to be abandoned or sent away for whatever reasons.  dumbledore decided to ‘adopt’ them. signed the papers and the muggles never knew anything about any of them again. they were more than relieved to get rid of them.

 “elsey, ever.”                       “SLYTHERIN!”“mara, scarlett.”                          “SLYTHERIN!”“valentine, harlow.”                         “SLYTHERIN!”

“fear not, minerva. i have great faith in their talent.” mcgonagall trusted the headmaster, that’s why he was the one in charge, but when the three new students get sorted in the same house not even had the hat touched a single hair on their head. it left a bitter taste on her tongue. ( she feared a repeat of a prior slytherin student. )

dumbledore wasn’t wrong, the three slytherins caught up at an alarming speed to the rest of the students that had been raised surrounded by magic. the slytherin house had never been stronger, but it was one thing what professors saw, and another what students lived. while they were talented, they also quickly made a name for themselves even among upper students– one warning: BE CAREFUL.  

–

it was lizzie saltzman’s first year at hogwarts. something she’d be looking forward to since the moment she could grab her mother’s wand and turn a whistle into a clock that could sing you the time. the blonde twin already had her life planned, she’d go to hogwarts become a ravenclaw like her father, join the quidditch team on her second year to become the captain and seeker like her mother, meet a cute boy, win the house cup all of her years and… okay, maybe not all of her life but at least the next seven years.     

this new year would be the first chapter of a great story in lizzie’s book. ( or so she thought. )

–

“FOUND THEM.” harlow announced as she barged in the common room where v and scarlett played a game of wizard’s chess. ( a game that was spiced up by making bets ) the winner of that match wouldn't be known as harlow threw a small stack of papers on top of the board making some pieces fly, “the newbies.”

it was the second year they took advantage of the first graders, either intimidating, manipulating or striking deals so to have them wrapped around their fingers. if the students in question were smart, they accepted the olive branch extended in their direction. if not– their life became nightmares. to say the three were the definition of bullies was an understatement. 

“i call dibs on the saltzmans,” the blonde called to the other two that had already grabbed the list to look over the names. the family was basically royalty, both in money and blood. not to mention their family background was a bit of a SCANDAL ( for small minds ). their mother getting murdered by their uncle when she was pregnant with them, and magically transferred to a family friend. harlow would consider their family dinners to be quite a ride. because that wasn’t all… 

“isn’t it odd their sister doesn’t share a name with them?” 

the question earned her a blank stare. “you really ask that, harlow. when your girlfriend doesn’t share a name with her brother either?��� fair point. not like she’d give in to that. “isn’t it time you go kiss your boyfriend goodnight?” 

“THE boyfriend.” 

“well, someone’s still clearly in denial.” 

“only you two troll heads take up a bet on charming your way into someone’s pants but end up falling in love before that even happens.”

it was during their second year that they challenged each other, whoever held the pretense the longest, was the winner. harlow was the first one to come clean during halloween. claudia didn’t talk to her the rest of the year. ( things were just now starting to pick up. ) scarlett got bored too quickly, smashed the gryffindors heart to pieces so badly the boy had to transfer to durmstrang. whereas v… he’d say he was the real winner, but both girls knew that for him, it wasn’t a game anymore. or else why would he continue to see the hufflepuff when no one was playing anymore? 

–

some people think the rivalry between harlow and lizzie started the very first-day lizzie stepped into hogwarts… 

it was easy to tell apart muggleborns and even some half-bloods from the rest. lizzie wasn’t one to look around with wides eyes at the magical candle or the talking giant toads. she felt at home as she was grouped with the others waiting for her name to be called. however, it wasn’t the voice of mcgonagall the one who did that first. 

“lizzie saltzman.” the girl in question turned to look at the source, a blonde girl with a confident smirk on her face. was she supposed to know who she was? “i’m harlow.” she introduced her name there. “harlow valentine.” nope, didn’t ring a single bell. “you’ve come to know some of us are better than others, saltzman. you don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort.” she continued, almost looking over at the others with contempt before looking back at lizzie and widening her smirk. ( was that supposed to make her look friendly? ) “i can help you there.” harlow extended her hand in the first grader’s direction, expecting for her to shake it in acceptance. what harlow didn’t know however, was that lizzie wasn’t as superficial as she pegged her as. besides, she already had friends on her own. and this girl? lizzie scoffed, was she serious?  “i think i can tell the wrong sort for myself.”

harlow wasn’t expecting that, and what followed? the snickers of the others on the group didn’t help at all. ( she would not allow a bunch of first graders to laugh at her. ) she dropped her hand, and her face lost all fake politeness. her lips parted to say something else, but there was a firm tap on her shoulder. “to your seat, valentine.” harlow took one last look in lizzie’s direction before walking away. 

“can you believe her?” she scoffed looking back at josie who met her with a worried expression and hope who looked like she was ready for this school year to be over. the sorting ceremony started and names started to get called with each house eagerly cheering for their new students. the gryffindors almost roared when hope got sorted, and after a few more names were called– 

“saltzman, elizabeth.” lizzie sat on the chair, almost feeling giddy as the hat started talking out loud, as it listed her qualities she let her eyes wander from josie on the group of students in front of her to the ravenclaw table, expecting for it’s name to be called when– “SLYTHERIN!”

her head moved so fast to the slytherin table it almost gave her whiplash. no, no, no, no. there must be a mistake. slytherin? …at least it wasn’t hufflepuff. she sat on the table and a few minutes later, josie was sitting beside her. okay, it was just a tiny dent in her plan, she could make it work as a slytherin. 

a note reached her hands– SHOULD’VE TAKEN THE OFFER. looking up, and some seats away sat none other than the girl from earlier. 

…huffepuff didn’t sound so bad right now. 

–

it took the initial shock from fading away, that both twins were sorted into slytherin– but lizzie found to fit in just right. some of her classmates talked about and to her on how she had stood up to one of the three slytherin bullies. lizzie found harlow to be CHILDISH ( and creepy ) just throwing glares at her and smirking from the other side of the room. what the hell was she smirking for? 

she’d come to know that the three of them had been taken from the system and terrorized half of the student body just for fun while putting a nice face for the professors. ( all backstories provided by a nervous-looking curly-haired hufflepuff boy who had smitten none other than hope mikaelson. ) “what are you, their fan or something?” 

“lizzie.” 

“i’m just asking.” 

“no, i, uh… nearly avoided getting wedgies at foster care. i don’t think they even know who i am.” 

“what’s your name again, gizmo?”

–

…some others think it was the next year. 

so far, only slytherins knew of how little lizzie saltzman and harlow valentine could stand each other. it had almost cost them the house cup for the first time in three years after they continued to make their house lose points. it mostly consisted of bickering during class and stupid pranks harlow decided to play on lizzie. 

it wasn’t until the quidditch team was accepting new members that it happened. madam hooch had suggested lizzie to try out for seeker which couldn’t thrill her more, she had made a comment on how her house seeker was better suited for beater. she wasn’t wrong… because the slytherin seeker was no other than harlow. 

“what are you doing here?”  the older blonde practically sneered at seeing lizzie arrive at the pitch all geared up. “what does it look like i’m doing? i heard our team’s seeker needs to be replaced with a better one.” harlow wasn’t having it. 

the tryouts happened, both girls were really good, but not even harlow’s confundo spells or the ‘accidental’ bludger sent in lizzie’s direction after having snatched a bat from v’s hand could’ve stopped what made the hatred between girls more obvious– word got around quickly at school. lizzie saltzman was the new seeker. 

– 

“it smells like butterbeer in here,” scarlett wrinkled her nose as she walked into the slytherin common room. it was almost empty, most students left for the holidays but not them. the three teenagers had lived in the castle ( and it’s surroundings ) since they got there six years ago. “has any of you been fucking?” 

“don’t look at me. aster left for christmas, something about his father finally showing his face.” by his tone, v was less than amused by that. a bertie botts bean thrown at harlow to get her attention, making her fake innocent face break out into a smirk. “speaking of,” scarlett started her taunt, “how does it feel knowing you and lizzie are almost sisters now?” 

it seemed like a cherry on top when after all of that, lizzie started dating claudia’s brother. and the boy was eager enough to PROPOSE to her the next year. harlow scoffed and popped the bean into her mouth, the coppery flavor invading her tongue as she bit the candy. BLOOD. “there are bigger plans than lizzie saltzman, right now.” 

–

“i’m telling you, there’s something clearly off with those psychos.” lizzie commented from behind her hot chocolate. “more than usual.” since beginning the new school year, stranger things were starting to happen. students randomly getting injured or missing, only to appear after a couple of days with no recollection of what happened. dark magic invading the school, and maybe dumbledore wasn’t saying anything, but she knew hogwarts wasn’t safe anymore. 

“ i know what i saw, she had this tattoo on her arm and–” an interruption soon following, “maybe you’re in love with her, lizzie.” penelope park teased from her seat next to josie, the slytherin had aways found more interest in the brunette twin than whatever child’s play her housemates had going all these years. “shove it, satan.” 

“what do you mean?” landon finally asked in confusion looking between the girls. josie and hope sighed. “lizzie is under the impression harlow valentine is now a death eater.” 

“this is their last year,” william reassured her, “one more year, and then they’ll be gone forever.”

–

that year, a friendly dueling tournament was held. something about promoting talent and good sportsmanship. the house, gender, or age didn’t matter– everyone was fair game. as the days passed the duels were becoming harder for some, even a few students ended up getting injured ( minor cuts or bruises ) but no one was ready for the final day.

it had been the talk of the week, how the final duel was between harlow valentine and lizzie saltzman. bets were getting raised; who would win? who would get burnt hair? and jokingly… who would die? 

“remember, girls. this is a friendly duel. use your skills and wit. may the best witch win.” the professor reminded them as both slytherins stood face by face. in that moment, all that mattered was winning. lizzie wanted to wipe that look from harlow’s face. harlow wanted to break lizzie’s face. “wands at the ready!”

“scared, saltzman?”

“you wish.”

as they showed their wands and starting walking away from each other in the direction they were supposed to stand. the public started counting– 

“ONE! TWO!”

“EVERTE STATUM.” harlow threw the spell before its time, effectively hitting lizzie and sending her flying through the air to hit the wall. people in the room gasped, and there was one cackle. v had predicted harlow wouldn’t wait the count. 

after getting back the air that had gotten knocked out from lizzie’s breath, she quickly got up to see harlow proudly chuckling. she’ll give her something to laugh about. “RICTUSEMPRA.”

harlow wasn’t fast enough to block out the spell that had the same effect as lizzie’s– except once she hit the ground, she couldn’t help the urge to laugh uncontrollably, so much and so hard it hurt. the laugh became pained and unhinged. just like harlow’s face once she picked herself up, this was just getting started. 

both girls fought as best as they could, they were brilliant after all. though in the end, there wasn’t any winner… “SECTUSEMPRA.” 

( that day, william flynn in all his gryffindor glory confronted harlow for what she did. the slytherin sent him to the hospital wing to accompany his fiancée by breaking a couple of ribs. claudia broke up things for good the next day. ) 

who did harlow blame for this? no other than lizzie saltzman. 

–

harlow had claimed she read about that spell in a book, not having idea that it was a curse or what it did. her pretense was so good, she wasn’t expelled for that. ( to the disgruntlement of a lot of students. ) but she was in detention for the remaining six months because of that and for what she did to will later that day. 

lizzie recovered completely a week later after the attack. 

a month later, harlow disappeared. followed by scarlett, and then v. all within the same week. 

( dumbledore should’ve predicted that. he should’ve kept an eye closer on them. )

the three of them came back before the school year finished. accompanied by a thousand of death eaters that soon invaded hogwarts. there was death and pain in every corner. friends and family lost. after that day, everyone had lost someone– just like how they had found friends in the most unexpected of places, but their lives were changed forever. 

–

“scared, saltzman?”                                                                                                             “you wish.”

                     “AVADA KEDAVRA!”  “EXPELLIARMUS!”

[msauthoress]

The Runaways (Bucky x OC) Chapter 1

Title: The Runaways

Pairing: Bucky x OC

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 2982

*** My tag list for this story is currently open, so if you want to be tagged for future chapters, let me know!***

Author’s Note: I am so excited to finally post this! I have been a fan of the Marvel Universe - and have a love for Bucky - for the longest time but just recently wanted to start writing about our beloved Winter Soldier. This is my very first Bucky fic so any constructive criticism and feedback is greatly welcomed!

@musicalmuffindog1410 @rowdyhooliganism

“She is weak.”

“Give her more time.”

“More time? It has been three weeks and she is incapable of defending herself. Women in her group have already advanced.”

“What do you suggest we do, let her die within two seconds in face to face combat?”

“It would be a mercy.”

“There is something else we can do.”

Alexandreina tried to block out their voices. Their words hit her like a chilled gust, taking her breath away and freezing her to the core. They didn’t know she understood their language or that she could hear every word despite their attempt to keep it to a whisper. And right now, she really wished she couldn’t understand them. In a way, it prepared her. She knew what was coming. The mutterings she had heard ever since she arrived here were no rumors. The weak die in the Red Room. They die and they are disposed as if they never existed. At the very least, hearing the conversation prepared her to steel her nerves and accept the fate that awaited. They would try to find a way to kill her. One way or another they would find a way, and then what? What would her meaningless life say about her? Absolutely nothing.

The Red Room hadn’t been enough – she had not been enough, and now they were looking for a way to get rid of her. She wondered how many before her were ‘disposed’. How did it come to this?

Alexandreina gripped the edge of the old, wooden chair she was seated in. Her body ached from all the rigorous training, as much of a failure she had been at learning. Her bruised ribs did not help her any. Nothing hurt more than her face. She was sure more bruises marked her skin than her side. Weariness was beginning to creep on her, and for a moment, Alexandreina wondered if she went to sleep…would it be for the last time?

Before she could dwell too heavily on the though, Alexandreina was brought back to reality when her vision was blurred. Looking up, she saw the two men who had been previously talking were now in front of her – Rasvan, who’s face was often blank and wrought in a frown, and Serban, a more gentler nature man. Which she thought odd for someone to be serving HYDRA.

“Follow us.”

Alexandreina eyed them warily. “Why?”

Rasvan glared at her. “You don’t ask questions.”

“Why, so I won’t figure out you plan on putting a bullet in my head?”

“Ah, so you do understand Romanian. I had wondered.” Serban said quietly. “That is not why. We have a better plan for you.”

A better plan. It sounded worse, like she was an object that malfunctioned. Then again, Alexandreina supposed that was partly true. She had been beaten, punched, pushed down and mocked. A failure. A part of her wanted to spit in their face and tell them to go screw themselves. The angry part, the part that was taken from her family, that was k nocked unconscious, that has been treated like an item – like property. Maybe she was, Alexandreina came to the grim resolution. It no longer mattered. She was here and they wouldn’t go, not alive.

With a defeated sigh, she stood from her chair. They took it as a willingness to comply, and they turned at their heel and led her out of the room that had haunted her for three weeks.

As they entered and walked down a number of corridors, Alexandreina weighed on her options. She could give up and accept the fate they were leading her to – it didn’t matter what they told her, Alexandreina learned their words could not be trusted a long time ago – or she could fight back. Fight and use the dagger one of the students from the Red Room gave her. At first, she thought it was strange but now she understood. She must have suspected this would happen. Alexandreina wondered if this was the first time. She didn’t know how to use a knife but if she succeeded, what then? The guards would eventually be notified, and she would get caught. She had heard whispers that HYDRA was not gentle, nor were they afraid to punish women. Either way, both options seemed helpless.

She didn’t have time to make a decision. The men stopped at a steel door guarded by armed sentries on either side. From the inside shouts and loud banging noises could be heard. A thump emanated from the door, indicating something had been thrown against it. The sudden noise caused Alexandreina to jump backwards but Serban steadied her with a firm hand. She was going to regret the question that was about to come out of her mouth.

“What’s in there?”

Serban shifted. “It is probably better to see for yourself.”

“There is a man inside this room,” Rasvan began. “He is…a valuable asset to us. Very strong, a little aggressive but compliant when handled properly. Sometimes he can be a little…difficult.” There was another shout, followed by a loud groan of pain. “No one can calm him down and we cannot send in our experts to restrain him. You, though – you seem to have a soft heat. An unlikely trait for someone who has spent almost a month in the Red Room. It is still useful. If you can calm him down, then you will live.”

Alexandreina glanced at the door. “And if I can’t?”

He shrugged. “Then of your lack of competence will no longer be an issue, will it?”

“So, it’s a death sentence, is that it?”

“It is better than death by a bullet or the Red Room.”

“How?” Alexandreina asked in exasperation. “How is that any different? You are sending me to die in your mess that you can’t clean up.”

Rasvan narrowed his eyes. “Watched your mouth, girl. You may be given an alternative, but I can still shoot you.”

“That is not necessary,” Serban spoke up, sending his partner a look. Rasvan grumbled under his breath and took a step back, silently signaling his white flag. “You’re being given a chance to survive,” he continued. “It is a leniency that is not often offered. You are not like the guards. He will know that, and it will be your chance to prove your worth, to prove he can trust you. Succeed and no one will dare put a hand on you again, not even the man inside this room.”

For a split second Alexandreina wondered if maybe they were right before her mind screamed at her. This was all kinds of stupidity. By the sounds of it, whoever was inside that room was strong and dangerous. If their own guards who knew his tendencies and behavior couldn’t stop him, then what made them think a stranger could? They were desperate. They were desperate for a solution and sending in someone who was not in service to HYDRA was that solution. It wouldn’t hurt them if she died. Whether by a billet, the Red Room or this man, they intended her to die. They were now giving her an option in exchange of a fruitless hope something could actually be done.

There was still a chance to survive. And as crazy as it seemed, Alexandreina was willing, even if the likelihood was grimly slim. What more did she had to lose?”

“I’ll do it.”

Serban nodded to a guard. “Open the door.”

The first thing Alexandreina noticed when she stepped in was blood smeared on the floor. It wasn’t a lot, but it was clear intense fighting had been involved. The room – a laboratory of some sort, she assumed, was a mess. Tables were over turned, one even thrown across the room with the equipment; medical supplies littered the floor. Five men laid motionlessly against the wall. Alive or dead, she didn’t know, and she didn’t want to know, but two had a dagger lodged in their thighs.

That is when she saw him.

Tall, broad shoulders, and…a metal arm. It was nothing like Alexandreina had ever seen before – in fact, she couldn’t recall ever seeing anyone with a metal arm. It was intriguing…until she saw the guard whose neck was being cracked by his hand, then going limp as his head lulled backward before being dropped to the floor as if he weighed nothing.

Perhaps she had underestimated the situation.

The man suddenly turned his head and looked straight at Alexandreina. His piercing, icy blue eyes sent chills down her spine. There was a darkness in them, a danger that could not be outrun. She wasn’t sure which was more frightening – his arm or his eyes. Surprisingly, he didn’t move to attack. He didn’t grab neither the dagger in his hand or the rifle that sat by his feet. He simply…watched her. Observed her. Assessing. “You are not them,” he said plainly. There was not an ounce of emotion in his voice. It was as if he was completely voided of it.

Alexandreina swallowed. “No.”

“You have come to seize me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. When she didn’t answer – and she supposed she should have – he shook his head and turned away. “Leave. Your attempt is a waste.”

Alexandreina should had heeded his advice. She should had turned around and left, and let herself fall to a different, a more quicker fate.

She didn’t.

“No.”

His shoulders tensed as her words bounce off the walls in a deafening effect Even to her, they echoed too loudly and for too long. The man took in a deep breath before answering. “So be it.”

In a movement quick as lightning, he whirled back around and threw the dagger. Reflexes that Alexandreina was not even aware of kicked in, and she moved out of the way just as he turned. Despite her previous failure, she quietly thanked the rigorous training from the Red Room as the dagger pierced the wall where she had just been, striking what would had been her head. A deafening silence filled the room. The man stared unblinking at the wall, shock crossing his features. It was the first emotion Alexandreina had seen him express but as soon as it came, it left, and he set his eyes back on her. The look in his eyes was utterly terrifying.

“You don’t have to do this,” Alexandreina pleaded. “I can help you.”

“Nimeni nu poate.” He lunged forward, nearly slamming into the wall were it not for his own quick reflexes when she moved out of the way again.

To her surprise, Alexandreina’s legs moved for her without much thought. She swept her leg under his, forcing him on the floor, before bolting to the other side of the room. A gun laid in the corner. If she could just stun him long enough –

A yelp suddenly left Alexandreina’s mouth as she was brought down on the floor. The metal hand gripping her ankle was firm, and he squeezed hard when she squirmed to get free. Instincts kicked in and she punched him in the face with her foot. It wasn’t enough to release her and with the flick of his wrist, he forced her on her back and his foot was placed on her chest. Alexandreina struggled; she smacked, clawed and pushed desperately at the boot but he wouldn’t budge. He was too strong. The slightest press of his foot increased the weight on her chest and Alexandreina could feel her breath leaving her lungs. Her hand blindly reached – what for, she didn’t know; anything to get a grip on and free herself, and her hand found the dagger tucked in her pant leg. With a firm grip and a deep breath, Alexandreina withdrew it and sliced his leg.

The man cried out in pain, stumbling backward as he clutched his leg. It was enough for Alexandreina to bolt, and she sped to the far corner as fast as possible.

He was faster though.

A grunt was Alexandreina’s only warning before she was slammed from the back and crumbled to the floor. He hovered over her so quickly that the only thing she could think of doing was slapping him in the face.

That was a bad idea.

His eyes darkened. “Prost fată.” And then his metal hand grabbed her by the throat.

Alexandreina let out a strained gasp as the air left her lungs. His grip was crushing, tightening more and more until all that could be here were her chocked gasps. He threw her across the room with very little effort, she slid limply across the floor. Her hand clutched her throat and hastily sucked in air as it rushed back to her lungs.

She could hear him approaching, heavy footsteps walking leisurely, daunting. Alexandreina scrambled to her feet. His eyes met hers, dark and hallow, and filled with menace. She tried to move, tried to find a way to buy her time, but there was nothing. She was cornered and her death was approaching. In the wake of her trembling limbs, Alexandreina did the only thing she knew to do.

She started to sing.

“Beyond the blue horizon,

Waits a beautiful day.

Goodbye to things that bore me.

Joy is waiting for me.

I see a new horizon,

My life has only begun,

Beyond the blue horizon lies a rising sun…”

The man had long stopped advancing towards her and was completely still by the time she finished singing. It was as if he had been stunned. Whether it was her or the song, Alexandreina didn’t know. It wasn’t a concern. All she cared about is that it worked. His eyes glazed over, different emotions swirling in those icy irises. The first emotion to appear was confusion, then curiosity. “You are too young to know that song,” he said quietly.

Before Alexandreina could respond or he could have the chance to approach her again, the door behind them burst open and a handful of soldiers came marching inside. Two seized him by the arms as the rest aimed their rifles at him. He stood completely still, even as he was dragged away to a chair in the left corner. All Alexandreina could do was watch in bewilderment, trying to grasp what just happened – how it happened. One moment this man was trying to kill her and the next he was calm, as if he had been broken out of a trance of some sort. As the seconds passed, more questions swarmed in her head, and so deep was she in her muddled thoughts that she didn’t notice Rasvan coming to stand next to her.

“Well done,” he said. “I had my doubts, fată. You surpassed my expectations, everyone’s expectations. It is…impressive.” Rasvan seemed hesitant to admit the latter.

“I…I don’t…” Alexandreina blinked and shook her head. “I don’t understand. What did I do?”

“You survived. That is all you really need to know at this time. More information will come, if you are patient and compliant. Are you proficient in providing medical attention?”

Alexandreina frowned. “Only the simple stuff, like cleaning a wound and bandaging—”

“That is good enough,” Rasvan decided. “Clean him up and then come out in the hall. There is someone who will want to speak with you.”

She was tempted to ask who, and more importantly, what was going on and what just happened. But Alexandreina knew she wouldn’t get her answer. That was already made clear. So, she did all she could manage – nod and quietly make her way over to the man – the soldier, as they had called him earlier. He now sat still in the chair; slumped but awake and intently alert, particularly on Alexandreina. His eyes watched her unblinking as she eased in a stool across from him, silently accepting supplies from a soldier. Alexandreina wouldn’t meet his gaze. She could feel it enough as it was, burning her skin like fire. There was so long she could avoid him, because when she stopped what she was doing to grab a bandage, his hand reached out grabbed her waist.

Alexandreina snapped her head in his direction with wide eyes. He simply pulled out the knife she had tucked away in her pants. “This is dangerous for you to have,” he murmured, twirling the knife between his fingers as he inspected it, before letting it fall to the floor with a clatter.

Alexandreina avoided his gaze. “I wasn’t going to do anything. May I see your wounds?”

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and silently lifted his leg on the chair next to her, showing the wound she had given him. Alexandreina let out her breath. Of course she had to injure a man so close to his personal region. Silence filled the air when she began to carefully wrap the white bandages around his wound. The soldier tilted his head and watched her intensely.

“Who are you?”

Alexandreina paused. “I am no one,” she said quietly, then continued.

“You were sent.”

“Yes.”

“Red Room.”

“Not…Not quite.”

“Failure.”

Her eyes snapped to his face, tightening her grip on the cloth. He nodded at her silence. “You are not the first. Or the last. There is never a last. There is always more.” He was silent again but only briefly. “Who are you?” he asked again, this time curious.

Alexandreina hesitated. “Alexandreina.”

He tsked. “Too long.”

“I…What?”

“Your name. It is too long.”

Alexandreina tried to hold back the irritation that was beginning to rise in her chest. “What should I be called, then?”

“Lexa.”

That got her attention. Well, she wasn’t expecting an actual answer. Her eyes flickered to the man’s face again. He stared back at her expectantly. “And what should I call you?”

A shadow fell over his eyes and the words that left his lips were a raspy order. “Soldat.”

[zane-rapha-the-mun]

What is Paradigm Shift?

This is an alternate universe I’m working on (mostly over on Patreon) where I can connect many projects I have into one and have a shared universe. This includes: "What Might Have Been" "Grand Dynamic" "Malik & Heller's Journals of the end." "Engraved in the past." "Viral's Wrath" "Origin of Darian" "Where Madness is salvation, and salvation is madness." "Echoing Through the Dark" and "The Transformation."

Of course, some of these have not seen the light of day yet; I will be rewriting a lot of the story. There may remain an underline them, but it will all get a makeover.

What does this mean for the reader? ~ 1 Well if you go from one story to the next you can follow a time line set in the story. I will mention more dates and times in the story, and the reader can try to piece together the mystery behind the scenes.

Now I will be the first one to tell you that this is to encourage people to read more than one story but I have a good reason.

I don't know if you have noticed, but people Really like figuring out the real story behind things.

Now I love a good theory as much as the next guy, and I want to see what people think is happening?

The first questions I want to ask people before they read any of the new stories. #1 Why is it that the world has fallen into chaos in "Malik & Heller's Journals of the end"? Note: They don't actually know what has happened. They are too young and have lived in this dystopian world too long to find out what happened prior. They guess just as much as you.

#2 What is happening to Viral?

#3 Where did Reus come from?

#4 Do you know all the secrets?

~2 I'm moving away from fandoms and making my stories mine and only mine. This means I'm cutting out Slendervirse and Creepy Pasta themes. It's out! Gone! Auf Wiedersehen! ¡Adiós!

But I'm still doing horror. So don't go yet, the party is only starting. This is going to be 18+ horror gory goodness! If you thought some things were scary before just you wait. I got worse coming.

~3 Okay, this is more or a side note. "What Might Have Been" is a comic I'm going to put on Patreon for 5$ a month patrons but I will do Asks for the series, and some will be drawn replies. I need help, and every donation helps. Now I said in the past that I was going to put it up on Amazon, and it will be. But back to Patreon, you also can see my more recent works and story Ideas I'm working on and more once I get the ball rolling. Now some sad news. I'm only putting up First Chapters here on Tumblr for a week before it goes on Amazon as I need the money right now. But my plans are for all my work to be free when I can affored it. You will find all my new work(mind you for as little as 2$) on my Patreon. This will make it easier to manage. 

[you-andthebottlemen]

5 -

Request: ‘Something about Van dating a journalist?”

I hope this is alright anon!! I just wanted to write something cute and heartwarming. Supportive boyfriend Van is an absolute dream am I right? (P.S I know nothing about journalism lol) xxxx

***********

“Fuck!” You shouted and threw your phone down beside you.

You stomped your legs like a child, putting your face in your hands and groaning in frustration.

Van walked through the door, curious about the sound and looked at you with a confused expression. You slumped back into the couch and sighed; you felt defeated.

“What’s wrong babe?” He asked, peeling his banana as he came to sit beside you.

“The publication rejected my story and all my ideas. They’re gonna fire me unless they get something they like within the next three days. I have nothing!” You threw yourself into his arms, starting to cry and he held you, one arm tightly around your body and the other stretched out to protect his snack.

“Hey it’s alright y/n, you’re a dead good writer and they’re just too fussy to appreciate you properly. I reckon just quit and do your own thing.”

You knew he was only trying to help but somehow those words made it worse. In journalism, you couldn’t just ‘do your own thing’ if you wanted to be successful; freelance was tough as shit. You’d been working with this publication for only a month now, it was your first job after university and you’d thought it had been going well. Suppose not. They loved you at the start but soon realised your talents and their requests didn’t seem to fit. But you couldn’t afford to quit, you needed a job. You wanted to write about art, music, and culture...about real people. They just wanted you to write gossip about Kylie Jenner’s tits.

“What the living fuck do I write about?” You questioned, not actually expecting an answer. You'd tried everything with them and they were never happy.

You sat up and wiped your face and Van finished his banana slowly, thinking.

“You could write about us? Like me and the lids, Catfish?” He suggested, a caring tone in his voice and pronouncing ‘us’ as if it had a ‘z’ on the end.

“They’ve hated all my music articles so far,” you sighed.

“Yeah but you’ve never interviewed me have you?” Van said cheekily and full of ego.

That was true. You thought about it for the rest of the night, trying to come up with something else and you just couldn’t. You began to imagine the story, starring Van McCann of Catfish and The Bottlemen...an insight into their lives that no one had captured before. No one at work knew you were dating Van, so while it was technically unprofessional (and cheating) there was no one who could catch you out. Usually, you had to jump through hoops to get an interview with celebrities and as for the publication you worked for, they simply didn't have the budget or resources to ever get someone like Van on their cover. It was kind of a genius plan actually. If they liked it, that is.

“Fine I'll do it, I'll interview you,” you whispered to Van as you melted into his side under the bed sheets.

“And it’ll be your best article ever babe,” Van promised just before he turned out the light and you both fell asleep.

......

You sat at the bar table across from Van. You had your arms crossed, notepad and pen beside you and you were staring at him trying not to laugh.

“This is for my work Van we gotta be serious!”

“Yeah love don’t worry I’ll be proper professional. I’ll even drink scotch so I seem more upper class,” Van laughed and you copied.

Composing yourself, you ordered some drinks, though no scotch was involved. It was probably good to get Van a little tipsy before you probed his brain in a way you never had before. You were kinda nervous really. You weren’t sure if you should be yourself and get a candid, playful interview with Van or turn on your work persona and get straight to the point. You weren’t even sure what stuff to talk about. You’d written up some rough questions but you felt it was all cliche crap that every other pop culture journalist would ask. This was all made worse by the big black cloud hanging over your head that was the possibility of losing your job if this didn’t turn out amazing.

Van sipped his drink messily, slurping on the straw. He also managed to knock over the bowl of peanuts that sat communally on the table, sending them flying into his lap and onto the floor. He was so clumsy yet no one really knew it. Except you.

After you'd cleaned up his mess and gotten a replacement serve of peanuts, you began to ask him casual questions about the band, how they started and where they got their name; stuff he’d been asked hundreds if not thousands of times. Yet he still answered with as much enthusiasm as he would have the first time he’d been interviewed. It was so heartwarming and your chest swelled with love.

You wrote down his answers and described the setting. You made sure to set the scene perfectly; the chatter around you, the couples kissing in the corner, the hazy sound of The Doors playing over the sound system. You took note of the cascading fairy lights that hung dimly behind the bar and how they reflected off the bottles of liquor...and off  Van's blue eyes. Maybe that was more a personal note for you.

He talked with sheer passion and moved his arms about wildly, almost knocking the fucking peanuts again. All of this you recorded in your notes to later craft into a feature article.

You ordered more drinks, whether that was a good idea or not and continued to discuss music, Catfish, and life with Van. This was not unusual, however, it felt different. You knew this was for your job and he knew your job was on the line. It was clearly more than your normal conversations with him. He really was treating you like a professional, not his girlfriend. But you still had that electric connection of course and it would definitely translate in the interview. He was giving you 110%.

"So, Mr. McCann...now that we have discussed your band and all the usual rock star bullshit...tell me...how do you feel about love?" You'd not include the swear word obviously.

He locked eyes with you intensely.

"Well, love is absolutely everything to me. I love my band, I love my family, I love my friends and I fucking love life," he began.

"But you see, I met this girl while I was on the road and she changed everything for me. She's like the all the fucking stars in the sky, I love her to death. I'm gonna marry her one day and we are gonna have like loads of babies because that's just how much I love her," Van's eyes became dreamy and you felt like you were going to explode.

"Any advice to young fans out there who are just looking for some lovin'? You asked, struggling to restrain yourself from reaching out and dragging him into you for a kiss.

You were really straying from your draft questions now. In fact, you were straying from any interview outline you'd ever drawn up.

"Come to our shows, grab some hot person's hand and if they're down, fucking kiss the shit out of them! Be brave and just say 'fuck it'. If that's one thing our music can do, teach kids to just say 'fuck it' and live, then I'm doing my job properly, you know what I mean?"

And you did, You knew exactly what he meant. He didn't get his thrills from the money or the sold out shows. He got it from the knowledge that people found happiness in what he did and that he'd somehow impacted actual human lives.

You finished off your drink and ate the last remaining peanuts. You had pages upon pages of notes that you couldn't wait to transcribe tomorrow.

Holding Van's hand you walked home. The cold air didn't bother either of you, the alcohol and love you felt for each other kept you warm; as cheesy as that sounds.

"You're like, really good at that interviewing thing," Van told you and you smiled, leaning over to ruffle his hair.

....

The following few days was stress filled and chaotic. You'd written up the article and were actually really proud of it. Van had kept out of your way so you could focus, but brought you cups of tea on a regular basis. You were so grateful to have someone as supportive of you as he was. He understood hard work and he was so proud to see you put everything into what you did.

You of course, had to exclude any drunken rambling but for the most part, it was amazing. The interview had great flow and it was really intimate. You'd captured Van in a way you'd never seen another interviewer do before, which said something. He was one of the most open and animated people you'd ever met. You poured your literal heart and soul into this feature, as did he, and you prayed to whoever was listening, that your bosses loved it too.

You sat on the couch shaking and sweating with nerves. You stared at your phone waiting for the call that would dictate whether or not you were unemployed. Van sat beside you, gently stroking your thigh in an attempt to show support and comfort. He knew you were best not to be smothered when you were this anxious.

Suddenly the phone buzzed and the publication HQ number flashed on the screen. Van gave you a quick kiss and you answered, taking the call to another room.

When you came back out, Van stood up with his eyebrows raised. He looked so anxious.

"So?" He questioned frantically.

You looked at the phone in your hand with a confusion,

"I got fucking promoted?"

Van cheered loudly, the same way he does when he's having a blast on stage. He ran over, picked you up and swung you around in his arms. You kissed him hard and smiled into his mouth. God, you loved this boy and his stupidly good band.