#i think misty/hannah have more going for them

[jackienautism]

ok. ok . WAIT . whatg if i said. misty quigley and hannah washington and-[is taken down immediately]

[hannahssimblr]

Hey, Hannah, how are you? Sooo ... I've read Lucky Girl on Wp. (Staying up until 3 AM in doing so.) I was crying and laughing. Crying especially when Evie had to say goodbye to Shane, Claire and Jude. I love the end where you showed all the key places where Evie and Jude had been together. That and a bit of the story reminded me of La-La-Land. I love the epilogue. Smiling all the time while reading. What I kind of expected was that Evie would spend more time with Jen and help through their traumata. I'm in love with your story! Your describing of the scenery. ❤ The photocollage of snippets of your life. ❤ How much percent of your life is in Lucky Girl? Did you know a Jude? And there is always a third option and I love that Evie chose it. Thank you!

ahh omg <3 I saw that you had continued to read on WP and I'm honoured that you chose to rather than just reading it as it was posted here every day. It's a bittersweet ending, there's no doubt but it felt so incredibly right for Evie to choose herself, not what others wanted for her ultimately.

Yes! This is one of my minor regrets about the story - the Jen story line could have been more, but i realised too late that in order to tie it all up neatly I'd have to extend the length of the story so much, and really, the story was about Evie and Jude. I was sad to kind of let that thread go, but it was for the benefit of the main story. If I had another chance at it I think I'd handle that part differently.

Haha great question - it's hard to answer because none of it? all of it? Every emotion that Evie feels, I also felt at some point, but none of the things that happened to her happened to me in exactly the same way. It's kinda like I took events from my life and mixed them up, added in some events from my friends' lives too and baked it all into a big cake. Overall it's an amalgamation of how it felt to be me as a teenager/woman in my early twenties, though actually, I was always a bit more like Jude than I was like Evie.

Yes! I knew a Jude - he was the inspiration behind the entire thing. I don't think I've talked about this before? But when I was sixteen I met a very tall, very funny and very handsome boy with an interesting accent who kind of made me challenge all of the ideas I had about life and myself. We never got together, he moved away when he was nineteen, but the whole experience I had with him was one of the most joyful and painful (and important learning) experiences I ever had.

He showed me that handsome/popular people were in no means out of my league as I had thought (lmao) but also that things don't work out well just because you both have strong feelings or because you feel like you have earned the right for them to. The story of this boy is longer than Lucky Girl, but yes! I'm glad you asked. A version of him is real, and out there somewhere walking around, Thirty two years old now, and we don't speak anymore. He has no idea that I've made content inspired by him, and he's a creative person too (a filmmaker) so honestly, who knows, maybe he's done the same thing about me.

Your question has made me very misty eyed and sentimental haha - thank you for sending me this! And thank you even more for reading <3 There is more to come with Lucky Boy, so maybe that'll be interesting to you too

xx

[littlemessyjessi]

"I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream": More Billy Hargrove and his goth GF 

= 

Billy Hargrove Imagine

Billy Hargrove x PS Reader, Billy Hargrove x Goth Reader

Pre-established relationship

= 

General Idea:  Someone asked for more of reader and her spooky treats. 

= 

Two boots squeaked across the concrete as Billy Hargrove made his way down the hallway. 

Max was already in the car and he'd been waiting on you for ten minutes now. 

He always took you home after school and usually you damn near blasted out of the building. 

So where were you? 

He'd given it about five more minutes before he began to worry. 

He'd gone by your locker thinking that maybe you got held up and were just trying to get your things. 

No such look. 

So his next thought was your last class. 

Home Economics. 

Sure enough as he neared the door he could see your through the little window on the door. 

You were sitting on the stool behind one of the little tables. 

Your chin in your hand, elbow on the table, a completely put out look on your face. 

He watched you through the window for a few seconds more before swinging the door open. 

"Baby?  What are you doing?  Come on." 

You looked up. 

Eyes gone big at him. 

You sighed, smacking your hands to your forehead. 

"Oh, hi, babe.  I'm sorry.  I forgot to tell you to go ahead." you said. 

"Go ahead?" he asked, brows furrowing.  "What are you talking about?  I always take you home."  

"Oh, uh, well." you said, hands fidgeting.  

"Well what?" he pressed, those electric blue eyes narrowing in on you. "Did you get in trouble or something? Detention?" 

He knew it wasn't likely because you were a perfect angel. 

At least in his eyes anyway. 

There wasn't much you could do that would warrant a punishment in Billy's mind… and he had issues with anyone who seemed to think otherwise. 

"No, uh, I'm not in trouble.  I'm just waiting on my cousin.  She's bringing me a cooler.  I, uh, I have ice cream." you said, not meeting his eye. 

"Babe." he chuckled.  "Just get it.  Max is already in the car with the air on and you don't live far.  It'll be fine. Just hold it up to the vent." 

You gnawed on your lip and glanced up at him, "Well, uh, I can't really do that, Billy.  It's too much to hold in the front seat." 

Billy lifted an eyebrow at you, waiting for further explanation. 

You gave a long suffering sigh before standing and opening the classroom freezer behind you. 

There, sitting as pretty as ever were two trays of cups. 

Black and green swirls of ice cream all sat in a row. 

And all untouched. 

He sighed. 

"Baby…" 

You looked like you were about to cry and he crossed the room quickly to gather you in his arms. 

He pressed kisses into your hairline. 

"I just don't get it." you whispered. "It's just ice cream.  Everyone watched me make it yesterday in class.  Like, it's not like I did anything.  I wouldn't do that!" 

"I know, baby." he said, hand rubbing up and down your back. 

"And I was so excited because it's ice cream day, Billy.  Ice cream.  Who doesn't like ice cream?" you vented.  "And I worked hard on it. I stayed up last night and made homemade sprinkles.  And I came in during my lunch just so I could make the syrup fresh. I even made chocolate covered bananas in case anyone wanted a sundae!  It's key lime pie and black coconut because I remembered that it's Hannah Pearson's birthday today and I heard her tell Misty Donahue that she loved key lime pie and that coconut was her new favorite slushie flavor.  So I thought I'd make them special… because it's her birthday!" 

Billy pulled you in a little tighter. 

"But… but she said I was a weirdo.  She said she wouldn't eat anything I made because I'd probably poisoned it.  That they even looked like poison.  Billy, I would never - " 

"Sssh- baby.  I know.  I'm so sorry." he said. 

He hated high school. 

He hated how kids could be. 

And at that moment he hated Hannah Pearson because he knew it was less about you and more about the fact that she'd hit on him and he shot her down because frankly he wasn't interested and also because he was hopeless for you. 

He held you for a little longer before he pressed a kiss to your temple and settled you down on the stool with a sigh. 

"Just sit tight for a second, baby." 

"Why?" you asked immediately. "Where are you going?" 

"Just sit tight, ok?" he said. 

"Billy, don't get into a fight or anything.  I know you already hate Dereck…" you said. 

He chuckled thinking of Hannah's boyfriend. 

He knew that you knew that he wouldn't hit a woman. He wouldn't hit Hannah.  But that certainly wouldn't stop him for starting a fight with her current boyfriend. 

He did hate Dereck Landley because he was a jerk and was actively looking for a reason to bash his face in… but that would have to wait for another day. 

"I won't. I swear.  Just wait here." he said and disappeared out the door. 

He'd made it to the parking lot in moments, opening the door to his car and pulling Max's headphones off. 

"Billy!" she said annoyed. 

"Get out." he said. 

"What?  I didn't even-" 

He sighed, rolling his eyes, "Get out and come inside.  I need your help." 

Her blue eyes widened. 

Billy?  Needed her help?  What had the world come to? 

Nevertheless, she exited the car even if she did give her stepbrother an odd look as she fell into step with him. 

"You're little friends still around?" he asked. 

Max tensed. 

She and Billy had gotten past a lot but she was still wary about some things. 

"Uh…" 

"I'm not gonna do anything.  Relax." he all but growled.  "I just need more people." 

"Uh, I don't know.  I can go see." she said, still unsure. 

He nodded, "Alright, go do that and meet me here in about ten minutes." 

Max, still confused with him, furrowed her brows, but he had already turned around and stalked in a different direction. 

He nearly gagged at the idea of speaking to that familiar head of hair up ahead but he forced it down anyway. 

"Harrington!" he called out. 

Steve turned, his face clearly showing that he was not in the mood. 

Though, Billy was less concerned with Steve and more about the freckled face next to him. 

"Buckley, you got a minute?" he asked. 

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" she quipped. 

"Don't you?" he shot back, sending her cheeks aflame. 

He sighed, "Sorry, reflex.  Look, do you two like ice cream?" 

"What?" Steve asked, bewilderment clear on his face. 

Billy huffed out a breath, "Do you like ice cream?" 

"We do work at Scoops Ahoy…" Robin trailed off. 

"Just come to the Home Ec room in ten minutes." he said and turned away. 

The two teens shared a look of confusion but honestly, Billy's erratic behavior was too good to pass up. 

His last stop was the drama room and as expected when he came through the door the Hellfire club looked up in surprise. 

Never did they think they'd see Billy Hargrove standing there unless he had come to terrorize someone. 

Eddie lifted a brow briefly but painted on a smile, trying to diffuse whatever catastrophe that was about to occur. 

"Uh… meetings are private, Hargrove." he said. "You need an invitation." 

"Do you guys like ice cream?" Billy asked, patience running thin. 

Gareth's eyes bugged out of his head while Jeff's brows drew so far together they almost looked like one. 

"Uh.." Eddie laughed. "What?" 

"Ice cream." Billy repeated.  "Do you like ice cream?" 

"Look, man. We're not try-" 

"Just come to the Home Ec room in ten minutes." he said, promptly turning and leaving the few members to look at one another in confusion. 

Soon enough Billy had circled back around to the front to collect Max and her ragtag group of little hooligans along with Lucas' younger sister, Erica. 

Robin and Steve had been joined by Nancy as well as the junior cheerleader Chrissy Cunningham. 

Eddie, Gareth and Jeff trickled in behind them as they all stood in the middle of the hallway. 

"What's going on, Hargrove?" Steve asked. 

"We're going to the Home Ec room.  My girlfriend made ice cream." he answered as if he were remarking on the weather. 

"Billy." Max groaned. "Come on." 

He sighed, "Listen, the people at this school are dicks." he said. 

"You would know." Robin said. 

Billy lifted an eyebrow at her and she lifted one back. 

"Well, it's true.  You were an asshole until you got with Y/N." she said. "And that's still up for discussion honestly." 

He sighed. "She made ice cream for class today.  And she worked hard on it.  She always does.  And no one would eat it.  They always do that to her and I know it hurts her feelings.  But she deserved better than that.  No one deserves to be ridiculed like that for no reason." 

There was a shift in the group, each turning inward to their own struggles. 

"You don't have to." he said. "I just thought it would be nice.  You can have something nice to eat.  Because I know it will be.  Everything is always great." 

"I can second that." Max chimed in. "She always brings me food in the morning and those mummy things were awesome." 

Billy actually smiled at his stepsister for that. 

To which she panicked and looked away because Billy is Billy. 

"Again, you don't have to but it would be nice.  You'll get something and honestly, I think it would just mean a lot to her." he said.  "Please." 

None of them had really ever seen anything like this from him and certainly never heard him beg. 

So call it moral obligation or pure shock… but they all followed. 

The door opened and you looked up only to curl inwards a little. 

"Billy." you whispered. "I'm not looking to be ridiculed yet again today." 

"No one is here to ridicule you." Billy said, coming to stand at your side and looking at the others. "Just here to have some ice cream.  Right?" 

It was silent for a beat before Eddie stepped forward, leaning on his elbows on the table in front of you. "We wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart." he said, batting his doe eyes at you dramatically.  "Especially not with your trusty guard dog here." 

He winked at Billy who was slightly amused but narrowed his eyes anyway.

"You watch the pet names, Munson. That's my girl you're talking to." he said. 

Eddie gave him an impish grin before sliding around to sit on the stool next to yours. 

"So tell me Miss Culinary Queen.  What's on the menu?  If it's anything like those cakes you brought for your birthday, or maybe it was Christmas in middle school then I'm in!" he said. 

Chrissy startled everyone with her gasp, "Oh my god! Yes! Those little chocolate cakes with the, the, uh chocolate syrup or fudge or something on the inside?" 

"Oh, those were lava cakes." you said. 

"Yes!" Chrissy said. 

"And they were made up to look like actual volcanoes." Eddie said. "Fucking rad, man.   And they were good as fuck. I could eat one right now." 

"Thank you." you said getting to your feet and heading to the freezer. "Um, well, it's not lava cake. But it's homemade ice cream. It's lime and coconut.  And, uh, I have toppings too. And chocolate covered bananas. And chocolate sauce and caramel syrup.  In- In- In case anyone wants a sundae or something." 

There was a murmur of excitement and soon enough the group of people were enjoying their frozen treats and having a good time. 

Billy slid an arm around your waist and pulled you down on his lap, eliciting a small giggle from you. 

"Saved you some." he said, holding out a little cup. 

"Thank you." you said, pecking his cheek. 

"No problem, baby." he said, holding up his cup to yours. 

You clinked the plastic with his, and let the ice cream dance on your tongue. 

And maybe life wasn't perfect. 

Maybe the day had sucked. 

Maybe Home Ec would always be a pain in the ass. 

But you had a guy who loved you and would clearly go to any depths he could to make you happy. 

And that was all you could really ask for. 

"Hey, you know, Y/N. I've literally been trying to talk to you for years but like, every time I get close, you bolt or something." Eddie said. 

"Watch it, Munson." Billy said. 

His glare was soft but still made you giggle and peck his cheek again. 

"Easy, Kujo." Eddie teased him before turning his attention back to you. "I meant as a friend. I just think you look cool is all.  I see the little projects you do sometimes and they're pretty badass.  I've always kinda thought we'd be good friends." 

"Oh." you said, shock coloring your tone. "Well, I mean, I didn't mean to run away.  I guess I was just preoccupied or maybe I thought I was in the way. But, but thank you.  I, uh, I've seen your band before.  You guys are awesome." 

Eddie grinned massively and you smiled back. 

And Billy had an inkling that perhaps he'd done more than cheer you up. 

Maybe just maybe… he'd brought a couple of friends together. 

= 

Hey, loves.  So now I'm fucking soft again.  NO ONE TOUCH ME!  *sobs*  

Anyway, I hope you liked it and I would love to hear your thoughts! 

Be nice to yourself and please drink a cup of water today! 

Love, K 

@toomanyfictionalboyfriends

@thickemadame

@blackirisposts

@therealmrshale

@thegreatirene

@angelus320

@disneymarina

@sullybot

@kalliravenne

@alisoncdariel

@amethyst09

@leah-halliwell92

@queenlexusloverofbts

@owenniasstars

@adventuresofnight

@tacobacoyeet

@glassesandthunderthighs

@lyn-g

@poopypantsmcgee666-blog

@milkshakelol

@sunnysidesblog

@speedyhandsbonkpalace

@mwitsmejk

@pinkcherrybombs

@abc-abc1234-a

@vj21

@kelly-fushiguro345

@minshookie29

@shycupcakealissa

@m-rae23

@thedarkwinterrose

[hannahhook7744]

Do you think your OCs would be comfortable in uniforms or nah?

Well that depends on which oc of mine and what kind of uniform. But I'm going on these lovely pictures you sent me as reference.

Haul Bjorgman could. He is a prince after all, he's use to it.

Luke could as love as he could wear a pin or something and as long as he could undo or forgo the tie completely. It would also depend on the colors because some colors just don't go with his hair.

If Hannah couldn't trade the skirt for pants, then hell no. She doesn't do skirts all day every day and would riot if anyone forced her into one.

Peachy, Genesis, Francesca, Rian, and Remi all could, even if they couldn't customize it.

Skia wouldn't do it out of spite. Which is the same for her siblings-- Treycor is about the principle of it and likes his own style too much to follow a uniform that is forced on him. Alex hates being told what to do. Darcy is goth, so a uniform that isn't black or lavender or grey is a strong no from her. Noah likes bright colors so if the uniform isn't bright and colorful he won't.

John would also downright refuse to wear a uniform as would Eduardo, Anna, Moxie, and Luis based on the discomfort it would bring and the principle of the matter as well as the spite-- it'd be one of the few things they'd agree on.

Josh would as long as he could wear a beanie.

Evelyn would because it wouldn't be too different from her usual style though it would annoy her when she'd want to wear more casual clothes and if she couldn't wear pants.

Hope would as long as she could wear Jewelry.

Misty would as long as she could wear her special Atlantian hair piece.

Aaron would refuse if it was ugly because he is a fashionable man and refuses to look anything less than his best.

Craven and Jolene are punk so no.

Ike is a bit like a greaser when he's older so it'd be a no for him to.

Skelebar and Fiona are goth so it's also a no for them.

Parker, Isaac, and James wouldn't because fuck authority and fuck Auardon for abandoning them.

Atlas would once he was older because it'd be easier for him to get away with using his shape-shifting powers.

Levi would because it'd please Hannah and because he doesn't really like sticking out more than he already does because of his abnormal height.

Herlando, Howiee, and Gunner would because they don't like stirring up trouble when they have better things to do. And because they're good boys in the eyes of Auardon.

And Liberty would as long as she could hide her face because her eye makes her self conscious around strangers.

But again, it depends on the uniforms and if they can be customized/varied a bit. Some would definitely die the uniform to fit their colors.

Hope that answers your question and makes sense. Thanks for the ask and for all the lovely fanart you make.

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

Author's note: by the way, any of you can make fanart or one shots about my ocs including my friend's oc, Skia, as long as credit me or my friend, Luna_lykanwolf, as long as you credit us. She and I would love to see it. Just respect the ships I created and don't ship her with anyome. Treycor is still off limits unless you have his owner, @crimsonstar2096 , 's permission.

[cuuno-moved]

*holds up c!Punz for inspection*

whats the verdict on this one, our king of correct headcannons?

(i would genuinely like to know if u have thoughts on c!punz)

-benny

okay first and foremost: putting him in my mouth.

secondly and more important!! i think they deserve happiness. i think they deserve love.

i think they deserve to sit with nook under the hotel overhang on a rainy day and watch the way the water bouncing off the pavement makes a misty spray. i think they deserve to ask nook questions it would never have an answer to, and they wouldn't either.

i think he deserves to go swimming in cold dark midnight lakes with hannah and purpled, and float on his back and listen to the other two bicker. i think he deserves to dive deep, deep under the surface, deep enough it feels like his eardrums will burst, and when he comes up for air, he deserves that lightheaded glee that comes with the feeling of oxygen in your lungs.

i think they deserve to be alone, in their tower, and cook some food for themselves and be their own person. i think they deserve to not have to share it and not have to give it away because they didn't make it for anyone else. it's for them. i think they deserve to burn some popcorn and laugh about it on the phone with boomer.

[lovelystarlings]

Chapter Three - The Sorting Hat

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

A loud, deep voice echoed through the train, shocking Camille awake from her much needed nap as she peered out of the doors of the carriage, pulling her robes on gently over her clothes as the boys peered out from behind her. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"Well, here we go boys." She spoke, her arms linking through theirs, one either side of her. "Looks like we're here."

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Camille shivered in the cold night air, pulling Harry and Ron closer to her in an attempt to gather some warmth. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Camille was shocked to see what looked like a half giant calling over to the trio, plus Hermione and Neville who had been behind them, clearly recognising Harry : "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more than five to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron and Camille were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione, who sat herself once again next to Camille, the two immediately in an animated conversation. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had needed a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff, the boats sailing through a wide open in the cliff face. They were then carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached an underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them, Neville being the last one to exit, a excited look on his face as Hagrid passed the toad to him.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face, and an intimidating posture.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor, Camille's heels clicking awfully loudly, drawing the people behind her to look at her, one platinum blonde boy even had the audacity to wink at her. Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room." Camille crossed her fingers of the hand that wasn't entwined with Hermione's at the hope she'd be put in a house with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"Now, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." She gave a slight smile and nodded in Camille's direction, who's appearance seemed unphased by the journey, her shoes still shining and her hair tied back with not one hair out of place. She looked pristine next to Ron, who had some sort of soot across his nose.

"Move along now," said a sharp voice, the Professor had returned from her leaving. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly joyous about what was about to happen, Camille got into line behind the boy with almost white hair with Hermione behind her, Ron and Harry following, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at her looked in shock, like they had never seen a veela before, making Camille's cheeks glow dangerously red. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Hoping to void the staring eyes, Camille lifted her head gently to the ceiling, eyes twinkling as she gasped at the star covered ceiling, constellations scattered everywhere as shooting stars made their way across it. She heard Hermione lean into her, whispering quietly so they didn't draw any more attention their way.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." The girl spoke, Ron and Harry both listening too.

Camille found it hard to believe that the ceiling was ceiling at all, and not an opening to the heavens.

She quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat, with patches of discolouring and rips everywhere.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuff's are true And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song, Camille bearing a wide smile, the hat seemed like it would be a very jolly person, or rather hat. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

"That's bloody ridiculous," spoke Camille, her eyes rolling in amusement. "Dumbledore would never allow a troll into a school for children, that's just absurd."

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause-

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

This process went on for a long time before Camille's name was called, though hers was called way before any of her friends, each house cheering louder than the other when a new student got assigned there.

"Delacour, Camille." McGonagall spoke loudly, all eyes turning to look at the French girl who began to make her way up to the stool, nervousness coursing through her veins at the piercing stares of the Hogwarts staff and students. She giggled as she heard a few wolf whistles and yells of encouragement from Ron and Hermione.

"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear, making her jump gently on the stool. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either, incredibly smart, you my dear would do well in Ravenclaw. There's talent, my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, yet an increasing amount of anxiousness and dear, you really must eat more, now that's important.... So where shall I put you?"

Camille gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, remembering her parent's hatred for it, she wouldn't want to disappoint them more than she did just by existing

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be amazing there, you know, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness and help you make more friends, no doubt about that - no? Well, if you're sure -- better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Camille heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. She took off the hat, passed it to the Professor and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. She was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, she hardly noticed that she was getting the loudest cheer yet. The Prefect got up and shook her hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, wrapping their arms around her in a brotherly fashion, "We got Camille! We got Camille!"

She could now only hope that Hermione, Ron and Harry followed the same path.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.

Hermione practically sprinted to Camille, jumping onto the seat beside her and giving her the widest smile she had ever seen, her arm wrapping around Camille's shoulder like a snake, the latter finally being able to breath at the thought of not being alone anymore.

Time passed quickly, and soon enough Harry's name was called, everyone's heads snapping to see where the boy would be placed. As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Harry took his seat on the stool, a good few minutes passing as the tension in the hall grew, the hat eventually shouting out to the joy of Camille.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The two Weasley twins jumped up and began to shout as they had done with Camille, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Camille and Hermione joined them jokingly, welcoming Harry with a warm hug as he perched into the seat opposite, flushed red as people leant over to shake his hand, some even asking for autographs.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined the trio at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green and shaking by now. Camille crossed her fingers alike Harry under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Camille whooped loudly with the rest of the house as Ron collapsed into the chair next to Harry, still looking worryingly green, though perking up as he spotted to food that covered the table.

Giving the boys opposite a smile, Camille laughed excitedly, not only had she gotten into Gryffindor, but she was also in the same house of the three she was sure she would get along with greatly. First year was off with a bang. A literal one as the man of the hour stood up and cleared his throat loudly, his half moon glasses twinkling with the reflection of the candles.

Albus Dumbledore.

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go CH. 2

Summary: Addison goes to stay with her friends, The Abbotts, and they make their way to the world cup to meet the Weasley gang.

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley X New Character

Word Count: 5.7K

A/N: I've been having so much fun writing this. Some dialog is borrowed from the original story.

Godric’s Hollow was a lovely little village that was made up of a humble square containing just a post office, a pub, and a church. A few muggle and magical dwellings alike surrounded the square, but there couldn’t have been too many people living there. As the Abbotts led me towards their house, we passed what appeared to be a war memorial in the center of the square. As we drew closer, it began to transform into statue of three people. A man with unkempt hair and eyeglasses, a woman with kind eyes and flowing hair, and an infant boy, perched atop the woman’s lap.

I paused to look at it, and the Abbott’s continued walking ahead. I knew this must be Harry Potter and his parents. James and Lilly potter had been killed here the night that He Who Must Not Be Named tried to kill little Harry. I’d heard the story many times before, but standing here so close to where it happened, broke my heart for the boy, who I now knew looked so much like his father, even more. 

“C’mon Addie!” Charlie called over her shoulder from a little ways ahead. I tore my gaze from the family, frozen in one last eternal moment together, and hurried to catch up; pulling my trunk behind me.

We strolled a little ways more until we reached the Abbott’s house. It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t exactly grand either. It sat beside a wide garden, and had an even bigger yard surrounded by tall hedges. A few chickens pecked at the ground beside the front walk. As we approached, the front door swung open and Hannah, Charlie’s younger sister, bounded out to meet us. 

“Mum! Dad! I’d begun to worry you’d miss supper,” she called as she came. 

Hannah was about to enter her fourth year at Hogwarts, just one year younger than Charlie and I. The three of us were sorted into Hufflepuff when we first began Hogwarts, which is how I met Charlie. There are only a handful of girls in each year per house. It was inevitable that you would become close with those in which you lived and shared your classes with. I had also found that in general, the Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindors got on pretty well. Unless we were playing each other in quidditch, we usually cheered each other on. Most of the people I considered my friends were in these two houses. The Ravenclaws and the Slytherins tended to be more of our within school rivals. This was just the way things were. 

Hannah and I exchanged hugs and words of welcome in front of the house before Mr. and Mrs. Abbott ushered us inside for dinner. I had never been in a home that operated primarily off the use of magic, and it was mystical.

As we entered I saw what looked like an entire staff of invisible people preparing our dinner. Knives lifted themselves off counters and were chopping vegetables on cutting boards. A large pot on the stove was stirring itself as various spices rose from their wooden cupboards and shook themselves into it. The dishes in the sink were washing themselves, a soapy sponge circling around a plate as if a hand that we couldn’t see was holding it there. Other dishes flew from cupboards and took their place on a long dining table in a room off of the kitchen. I ducked as a pile of napkins arose from a drawer and flew past my head.

 I grinned to myself at the wonder of it all. Imagine being able to wave your wand and all your housework would be done. One day I would be able to prepare a meal with the flick of my wrist, or clean up a mess more quickly than it was made. Until I was seventeen however, it was strictly forbidden for me to use magic outside of school. They didn’t want untrained wizards running around drawing attention to the fact that an entire magical community existed and operated alongside the non-magical one. 

“This all must be so new for you,” said Mrs. Abbott as we sat around the table. “I remember when I visited a magical family for the first time.” 

“I guess I just never thought about using magic for all of these things,” I replied. “You were able to cook an entire meal without even being home.” 

“It all does seem a bit strange doesn’t it? It’s been a long time, but this was all very strange to me once too. And it will only ever get more impressive.” She chuckled. “Watch this.” 

She raised her wand and waved it a sweeping motion. Suddenly out of the kitchen floated several large platters with the most decadent array of food I had ever seen laid out for a family meal. There was a plate stacked full of porch chops, and a basin of soup containing an assortment of vegetables and what appeared to be lamb meat. Mounds of mashed potatoes were on another dish that was now settling on the table next to a heaping pile of sprouts. A spoon dove into a bowl of peas that bumped into a plate full of treacle tarts on its way down to the flat surface. 

My mouth hung slightly open as everything in front of us became still, “Wow.”

 Mr. Abbott chuckled lightly and began scooping servings of everything onto his plate. 

“This all looks amazing Mrs. Abbott, thank you,” I said as I began to do the same. 

“You’re very welcome my dear, but please, call me Susan,” she patted my arm. 

Dinner passed quickly and fairly quietly as we all stuffed ourselves with all of the wonderful things Mrs. Abbott had prepared for us by magic. We did learn, through a rather clumsy owl that crashed through the window in the middle of supper, that Hannah’s friend Hermione Granger, was staying with the Weasley family and would be attending the World Cup with them. This left Mr. Abbott with an extra ticket to the world cup, that he tried adamantly to get Mrs. Abbott to accept, to no avail. 

“No, no,” she insisted at the end of the meal, “I think I will be much more comfortable here. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.” 

“But Sus-“ Mr. Abbott interjected. 

“Ted,” she said softly, “please don’t insist that I go camping for however long this match might go on. Even if it is with magic. Really, I’ll have a much better time hearing about it from all of you when you get back.” 

Mr. Abbott conceded. They sent the three of us immediately up to bed, saying that we’d need to be up well before dawn tomorrow to be on our way. Charlie, Hannah, and I climbed the stairs with full stomachs and heavy eyelids. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since I’d cried with my mother at home in the parlor, but it felt like a lifetime. That’s usually what happened when I made my way back into the magical world at the end of each summer. However, for a reason I couldn’t put my finger on, it made my heart a little bit heavier this time.

~

The next day, we had been roused from our beds in the early morning, and followed Mr. Abbott sleepily into the front yard. I had dressed in a plain muggle clothes at his instructions, and I chuckled to see him in nurses scrubs when he led us out the door. I wondered if Mrs. Abbott had tried to inform him that these were definitely not everyday muggle clothes, or if she had simply laughed to herself as I had when he’d dressed that morning. 

We loaded two small tents and a few days’ worth of clothes into backpacks that now hung off of our shoulders as we took ahold of Mr. Abbott’s arms. He warned the three of us to close our eyes again, and Apparated us to the site of the cup. The second time Apparating was not much more pleasant than the first, and I wondered how this could become someone’s preferred method of transportation, especially when flying on a broom was so exhilarating. 

We appeared on the edge of what seemed to be a deserted misty field in the middle of absolutely nowhere, with two sleepy-eyed wizards standing in front of us. “Good morning!” Mr. Abbott chimed to the pair. They had both, like Mr. Abbott, tried poorly to dress like muggles. One wore a tweed suit with rubber boots that came up over his thighs. The other wore a traditional Scottish kilt and a poncho. 

“Oh hello Ted,” yawned the one in the kilt, “Well rested are you?” 

“Went to bed nice and early last night,” replied Mr. Abbott, “Wanted the girls to be wide awake for the excitement today.” 

“We’ve been here all night, about time we got some sleep, I reckon. Here, let me find your campsite,” He unrolled a long piece of parchment and consulted it. “Ah, Abbott, here we are. Just a quarter mile’s walk in that direction, it’ll be the first field you’ll see. The site manager is a muggle called Mr. Roberts.” 

“Thanks, Basil,” said Mr. Abbott and he ushered us in the direction Basil had indicated before. 

As we walked through the tall, dew filled grass, Mr. Abbott explained that the Ministry of Magic had arranged for people to arrive at staggering times throughout the week leading up to the cup so as to not draw too much attention. This was a muggle campground that would be housing the thousands of world cup attendees. 

I clutched Charlie’s arm as we made our way blindly through the mist. I was starting to wonder if we had even been going in the right direction when a quaint stone cottage beside an iron gate began to appear out of the haze. Beyond the gate, I could just begin to make out what looked like hundreds of tents going up the hillside towards the dark wood of the trees on the other side. 

Mr. Abbott led us up the path to the small cottage and waved at a man standing in the doorway. 

“Hello!” He called happily. “We’re looking for er- Mr. Roberts?” 

“That’d be me. S’pose you’ve got tents booked too?” 

“Yes sir, it should be two. Under the name Abbott, we booked them a few days ago.”

“Aye,” said the man called Mr. Roberts, consulting his own list, “Your space is going to be up by the wood there. Next to an odd looking bunch called Weasley. D’you know them? Seems like everyone here this weekend knows each other. Odd. Never had more than a handful of pre-bookings at once, now we’ve got hundreds. All dressed strangely and acting funny. Just odd,” he seemed to have remembered we were obviously a part of whatever gathering was happening here. “You’ll be here just the one night?” 

“That’s right just one,” said Mr. Abbott uneasily. 

“So you’ll be paying now, then?” asked Mr. Roberts. 

“Oh er- yes- certainly,” stuttered Mr. Abbott. 

“Oh Mr. Abbott won’t you let me?” I interjected, knowing it would seem odd to this muggle when Mr. Abbott was unfamiliar with money that is clearly from his own country. “My father gave me mug- er- money before I left home.” 

Mr. Abbott started to protest, but clearly thought better of it because he sighed and nodded. I counted out the correct bills from the envelope that I’d had in the pocket of my jeans, and handed them to Mr. Roberts. 

He then handed us a map of the campsite and watched us suspiciously as we left the cottage and made our way through the gate. Littered throughout the field were tents that for the most part gave the impression of muggles camping there. Some however were obviously magical; huge grandiose tents, some with multiple stories, and even one with live peacocks strutting about the entrance. No wonder Mr. Robert’s thought we were a strange bunch. 

As we neared the edge of the woods at the top of the hill, Mr. Abbott caught sight of Mr. Weasley and called out to him. “Arthur! Hello there mate!” 

“Ted!” laughed Arthur, “So good to see you! Are you our neighbors for the night?” 

“It seems that way! Glad it worked out too, Hannah was hoping to see Hermione and Ginny.” 

“Right! Yes, Molly had told me our girls were friends at school. The kids are all off getting firewood and water to start on breakfast.” Mr. Weasley’s eyes finally settled on me, “Forgive me, Ted, this isn’t one of yours is it?” 

“Oh no, she isn’t mine. This is Addison Morris; she’s in Charlotte’s year at Hogwarts,” said Mr. Abbott. 

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Weasley,” I said politely and reached out to shake his hand. 

“Same to you my dear! Who are your parents? Anyone I would know?” He asked. 

“Oh, no sir. My parents are muggles,” I normally wouldn’t have been so confident in telling a stranger my lineage. There are some people in the wizarding community who view blood status as the most important identifier of a person. He Who Must Not Be Named operated under a philosophy that magical blood should be left pure. Muggle-borns like me were, in his eyes, an abomination. I had spent enough time around Ginny Weasley however, to know that Mr. Weasley did not think this way. He found muggles absolutely fascinating. 

“Oh!” cried Mr. Weasley in excitement, “How lovely! I work in the misuse of muggle artifacts department at the ministry, you know. The muggle way of life is just so interesting to me. Please tell me, Addison, what exactly is the function of-“ 

“Forgive me Arthur,” Mr. Abbott interrupted, “but maybe the girls and I should work on getting settled just a bit before you jump into that.” 

“Ah. Right, yes. My apologies. I do get a bit carried away,” he turned to Hannah and Charlie, “It’s lovely to see you girls as well.” 

They both echoed “You too Mr. Weasley,” as we began to unpack our backpacks. After Mr. Abbott looked around and saw no sign of the muggle Mr. Roberts, he waved his wand over the two piles of poles and canvas and transformed them into two modest tents; earning himself a sharp look from Mr. Weasley. However, neither of them really looked big enough to comfortably hold two people, so I wondered how we would all be able to sleep. 

My worries were quickly soothed though, for as soon as I stuck my head in the flap, I knew one of these tents could have easily slept all of us and then some. The inside looked a bit like a large one room cabin. Several oversized bunk beds lined the walls, while a table and a small kitchen sat off to one side. Across the room on the other side was a doorway to what appeared to be a washroom complete with a toilet and sink. The whole place was decorated like a cozy cottage that my grandmother could have lived in. I shouldn’t have been in awe, with how much wonder the wizarding world threw at me on a regular basis, but I was. 

“We haven’t used these in ages,” said Mr. Abbott as he entered the tent behind the girls, “It’s a little dusty and dated but I suppose it’ll do.” 

“It’s wonderful,” I said in amazement. 

We unpacked our few belongings and settled in our bunks to wait on breakfast. Mr. Abbott had said he’d try to go move Mr. Weasley along a bit. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Weasley had hoped to have a regular muggle camping trip, and Mr. Abbott kept cheating by using magic.

After as few minutes we were beginning to drift back to sleep on top of the covers of our temporary beds, when new voices and footsteps approached outside. 

“We’ve gotten the wood, Dad,” It was Ginny Weasley, “As long as I haven’t got any fake wands in here it should make a good fire.” 

“Dear sister,” said another voice that I knew to belong to one of the Weasley Twins, Fred or George, “why would we ever do something like that?” 

There was a chorus of laughter outside the tent, and I sat up on my bunk. Ginny was two years younger than me, only about to enter her third year at Hogwarts, but she was one of my closest friends. We’d met shortly after she began school, when a couple of older Slytherin boys had cornered me in an upstairs corridor, calling me Mudblood; a horrible word for muggle born people like me. A sentiment that echoed that of the terrible war that had ended barely 11 years prior. Ginny had been coming around the corner just as the word left the taller boy’s mouth. She’d shouted at them, and a rage, the likes of which I couldn’t imagine from an eleven year old girl, had emerged from her. After she was through giving them a piece of her mind, she’d taken me in her tiny little arms and let me cry. Then she had led me from the castle, down a narrow winding path, to the Hogwarts Game Keeper called Hagrid. Hagrid had sat and talked with us for hours and by the time we’d left, you’d have thought Ginny and I had been friends for years. 

I half-ran out of the tent and to the small circle where Mr. Abbott, Fred, George, and Ginny were sitting watching Mr. Weasley arrange the wood they’d brought into a pile to start a fire. 

“Addie!” Ginny jumped up off the large log she was sitting on and threw her arms around me.

“I’ve missed you,” I said, squeezing her hard, “How has your holiday been?” 

“Oh, you know, Mum and I stuck in a house full of men for weeks on end. Was yours alright?” said Ginny. 

“Just trapped in a house full of Muggles all summer. I’m sure you can imagine,” I said as I released her. 

“Actually, I can’t,” she laughed. “Were Charlie and Hannah in there with you? Why don’t you go get them. As soon as Ron, Harry and Hermione get back, Dad’s going to try to cook us breakfast. Not sure how that’ll go over though.” 

I stuck my head back in the tent and told the girls that Ginny was outside and Hermione would be returning soon. The two of them leapt out of bed as well and came outside to join everyone. Ginny had returned to her seat, but left space on her right for me to sit. The twins were sitting cross legged on the ground to the right of the log, and Mr. Abbott had made room for his daughters on an ornate wooden bench across from them. I suspected that he had used magic to erect this place to sit, and maybe even again to make it wide enough for three of them, something Mr. Weasley was obviously not willing to do. 

I settled in next to Ginny and watched Mr. Weasley open a book of matches that he must have acquired with a scenario like this in mind. On his first few attempts, he simply let the match fall out of his excited hands rather than strike hard enough to light them. Eventually he was able to get the match to light, but as soon as it was ablaze, Mr. Weasley would squeal with delight and proceed to drop it on the ground. 

“He’ll be at this for ages,” the twin closest to me, I wasn’t sure which it was, leaned in and whispered. 

“I could help…” I offered. 

“No, this’ll be a laugh I guarantee,” whispered the other twin, leaning around his brother. “I’m George by the way, I think I’ve seen you around Hogwarts.” 

“Don’t listen to him, I’m George,” interjected the first twin. My face burned red as I realized I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to tell them apart. I’d have to be sure I was careful not to use their names and look silly. They were both tall, with the burning red hair that was the trademark of a Weasley, and large curious brown eyes. Light freckles dotted their faces. In unbuttoned, long sleeve flannel shirts with white cotton t-shirts underneath, they were sort of handsome. I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t noticed it before. I’d seen them plenty around school, they were the two trouble makers in the year above me. Argus Filch, the school caretaker, all but had their pictures up in prison style wanted posters outside his office. 

“Knock it off you two,” said Ginny. “Don’t mind them Addie, that one’s Fred,” she indicated the one sitting closest to me, “and that one’s George,” shifting her arm to point at the one who’d said he was George the first time. 

“Well I’m Addison Morris, you can just call me Addie though,” I said to them. 

“Very pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Fred, who I’d noted was in a deep green colored flannel while George’s was blue. “D’you want a sweet?” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a fist full of brightly colored candies. 

“Fred!” Ginny reached across me and batted his hand away. “I thought Mum had you empty your pockets before we left The Burrow.” 

“That woman,” Fred grinned. 

“Yeah, she ought to know well enough by now that we’ve always got a trick or two up our sleeves,” said George with a wink. 

“Go on Morris,” Fred challenged, “try one.” 

“Take my advice,” Ginny said rolling her eyes, “Don’t eat anything if these two are offering it to you.” 

The twins laughed and Fred stowed the sweets back in his pocket. Mr. Weasley continued to try to get a fire lit for ages as we all sat and watched in amusement. Every few minutes I could feel Fred’s eyes on me but I refused to turn and meet them. I was a bit uncomfortable with male attention, after my first attempt at a dating had gone so poorly. In my third year, I’d developed a crush on Cedric Diggory. He was a handsome Hufflepuff who was now about to enter his sixth at Hogwarts. He was a very sweet boy, but quickly let me know that he thought I was a bit too young for him. At the time, I was mortified. My face turned a deep shade of scarlet every time I was in the same room a Cedric, my crush long gone by this point, but the embarrassment of the public rejection was something I couldn’t shake. 

Right before I got to the point where I was going to have to get up and find something to do to avoid his gaze, Harry, Ron and Hermione walked up carrying a kettle and a couple of saucepans full of water. 

“You’ve been ages,” called George as they approached the circle. 

“Met a few people,” said Ron, shaking out his own mop of red hair and setting the water down. “You not got that fire started yet?” 

“Dad’s having fun with the matches,” chuckled Fred, and all of our heads turned back to Mr. Weasley just in time to see him light yet another match and say “Oops!” as he dropped it in surprise. 

“Come here, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione rushed forward and began helping him properly construct and light the fire. 

Harry had finally gotten a chance to look around the small circle and noticed there were more people than when he left. He gave me a small smile and wave before turning to sit on the ground next to Hannah and Charlie. He knows Hannah a little bit better than he knows me, but I also wondered if Ginny sometimes made him a bit uncomfortable. It was no secret that Ginny had been immediately taken with Harry the first time she’d seen him, before she even attended Hogwarts. So far, it didn’t appear that Harry shared the same feelings.

Mr. Weasley and Hermione were finally able to get the fire lit, and all the proper greetings and introductions were exchanged. In the hour or so that it took the fire to get hot enough to cook over, Mr. Weasley gave all of us a rundown on the ministry officials that we saw passing through the area. I was brilliantly absorbed, having never heard so much about the workings of the magical government, so much so that I stopped noticing the glances at me that Fred stole. 

Just when Mr. Weasley and Mr. Abbott began cooking eggs and sausages over the blaze, three more people, who I assumed must be Weasleys as well, strolled out of the trees towards us. I recognized the youngest of the three, Percy, who had been Head Boy the previous year at Hogwarts. Ginny had told me in a letter over the Holidays that he’d began working at the ministry and was making everyone else miserable with his endless talk about cauldron bottom thickness or importation of faulty quills. 

The other two were older. One exceptionally tall, with his red hair swept back into a ponytail and an earring dangling from his ear. The other was shorter and stockier, much like Mr. Weasley, but his freckles covered so much of his face that he almost looked like he had a tan. I assumed this must be Bill and Charlie, Ginny’s eldest brothers who’d already left home. Seeing them all here in one place did make me feel bad for her, having six older brothers was sure to be a bit much under one roof. 

“Just Apparated, Dad,” called Percy as they grew closer. “Ah, excellent, lunch!” 

We tore into the food that Mr. Weasley had cooked surprisingly well considering he didn’t use any magic. I was scraping the last bit of egg off my plate, when Mr. Weasley stood suddenly and waved at a man walking towards us. “Aha! The man of the moment! Ludo!” 

The man called Ludo was dressed in full quidditch robes with a picture of a wasp plastered across his chest. I could imagine that once upon a time these robes had fit him well, but now they were stretched across a belly that surely hadn’t been there in his Quidditch playing days. 

“Ahoy there!” yelled Ludo excitedly. “Arthur, old man, what a day, eh? Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming… and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements…. Not much for me to do!” 

Percy lunged forward with his arm outstretched, obviously hoping to shake this man’s hand. He must’ve held an important position within the ministry. Mr. Weasley went around and introduced everyone in the circle to Ludo, ending with Mr. Abbott and me. However, I could tell Ludo had stopped listening as he did a slight double take when Mr. Weasley had rattled off Harry’s full name.

“Everyone,” Mr. Weasley ignored Ludo’s amazement at being face to face with The Boy Who Lived, “this is Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. It’s thanks to him that we’ve got such good tickets kids-“

Mr. Bagman grinned and made a waving motion at the Weasley kids and Harry as if to say it had been no big deal. 

“Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur? Ted?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and looking between the two men. He shook the pockets of his robes and I could hear the jingling of wizard money. “I’ve already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first – I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland’s front three are the strongest I’ve seen in years – and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match.” 

“Oh.. go on then,” conceded Mr. Weasley, I wondered if only to shut him up. “Let’s see… a Galleon on Ireland to win?” 

“Just a Galleon?” Mr. Bagman looked slightly disappointed but recovered quickly, “Ted, d’you want to go in with him? Make it a bit more interesting?” 

Mr. Abbott looked a bit flustered but managed to say, “No, no, I’d better not. My wife would have my neck if she knew.” 

“Very well, very well.. any other takers?” Mr. Bagman looked around to the rest of us. 

“They’re a bit young to be gambling-“ stammered Mr. Weasley. 

“We’ll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts,” blurted Fred from the ground beside me as he and George quickly counted out their money, “that Ireland wins – but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch.” 

I was shocked that the Weasley boys even had that kind of money, it wasn’t a secret that raising seven children had left the family without a lot of extra money. Ginny rolled her eyes but didn’t seem surprised. 

“Boys,” Mr. Weasley cautioned, “that’s all your savings… If your mother knew-“ 

But Mr. Bagman would hear nothing of it. The boys finished their transaction with the man and George tucked the slip of parchment he was given carefully into his pocket. For the sake of their poor Mum I hoped that Fred and George would win their bet. I didn’t want to see my team lose, but I didn’t want the boys to lose their life savings either. 

Turning back to Mr. Weasley, Mr. Bagman said cheerfully, “Couldn’t do me a brew, I suppose? I’m keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number’s making difficulties, and I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Barty’ll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages.” 

“Mr. Crouch?” said Percy, whose ears had perked up at this new name. “He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll…” 

“Anyone can speak Troll,” Fred scoffed from beside me. “All you have to do is point and grunt.” 

Before I could help myself, a loud giggle escaped my lips. I quickly clamped my hands over my mouth and felt blood rushing to my face. Percy threw a nasty look to Fred and me, but turned to stoke the fire angrily to bring the kettle to a boil. Fred grinned at me and I could have sworn I saw him wink before I turned away in embarrassment. 

A few moments later, as if he’d heard us talking about him, the man called Barty Crouch, whom Ginny had told me was Percy’s boss at the Ministry, had Apparated between the Weasley’s tents. He was an older man, who was tidy from head to toe. From the part of his hair, to his crisp suit and tie, all the way down to his polished black dress shoes. He could have passed for a muggle working at my father’s firm. Quite the opposite of Mr. Bagman. 

He began trying to gather Mr. Bagman for an urgent ministry matter, but was unable to complete his request before Percy had finished handing out cups of tea and turned to offer one to him. 

“Mr. Crouch!” squeaked Percy, bending into an awkward bow. “Would you like a cup of tea?” 

“Oh,” replied Mr. Crouch, looking slightly surprised to see him here. “Yes – thank you, Weatherby.” 

Fred and George choked on their own tea, Ginny nearly fell off her log, I spit my tea back into my cup, and Ron and Harry didn’t even attempt to hide their snickers. Percy sent another nasty glance, but this time extending it around the entire circle. A little pink in the ears, he turned and busied himself with the tea kettle. 

“I expect you’ll both be glad when this is all over?” Mr. Abbott asked, gesturing to the chaos that surrounded our small circle. Most of the wizards in attendance clearly were not as serious about blending in as Mr. Weasley and Mr. Crouch. Many of the surrounding families were struggling to keep their children in line, if not blatantly using magic themselves. 

Mr. Bagman however looked surprised. “Glad?! Don’t know when I’ve had more fun… Still, it’s not as though we haven’t got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?” 

Mr. Crouch cocked an eyebrow, “We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details—” 

“Oh details!” cried Mr. Bagman, waving Mr. Crouch away. “They’ve signed haven’t they? They’ve agreed, haven’t they? I bet you anything these kids’ll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it’s happening at Hogwarts—” 

I had only been half paying attention to what I assumed to be small talk about the ministry until Mr. Bagman said Hogwarts. What was happening at school? 

Mr. Crouch cut Mr. Bagman off and insisted that they must go and attend to the business that had brought the both of them to our campsite. They excused themselves, but not before Barty had the chance to call Percy “Weatherby” once more while thanking him for the tea. 

“What’s happening at Hogwarts, Mr. Weasley? Dad?” asked Hannah, as soon as the pair had left. 

“Yeah, what were they going on about?” called Ron from the ground near her. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” smiled Mr. Weasley. 

“It’s classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it,” interjected Percy smugly. “Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it.” 

“Oh shut up, Weatherby,” I muttered. Fred laughed from beside me and poked me in the ribs. “Good one, Morris,” he said softly enough that only I could hear. 

My stomach twisted into knots. Not the unpleasant kind that come the morning of a big exam or before your parents lecture you about the marks on your report card, but the kind you get before a big quidditch match or before the trip you’ve been looking forward to for half a year. The hopeless romantics of the world might have even called them butterflies. 

I tried to shake the feeling off, I was there to watch my favorite team play my favorite sport. I wasn’t here to develop another silly crush on someone older than me, something that was sure to end in my heartache. But sitting there, stealing glances at Fred from the corner of my eye and feeling him do the same, I feared it was already too late.

[fatandnerdy30]

The Little Princess chapter 1

So, this is something I’ve been working on for a while. It’s an original work, and I wanted some feedback on it. So, please feel free to critique the hell out of this, tell me what I did wrong, tell me what you liked, anything, just please drop a comment!

It was raining. That maybe had been the reason why Hannah lay in her bed, sweat covered from another nightmare that plagued her, brought on by the weather. As soon as she'd felt the memories start to trickle in, she tried forcing herself awake. And it worked, but only after she relived the worst day of her life. The rain always brought back those memories whether she liked it or not. A boom of thunder filled the room, causing the girl to jump. Annoyed she couldn't have slept in on the first day of summer break, she threw the covers off in a huff. Above her the bed creaked as her bunk mate slept peacefully on, unaware of the problems going on below her. Hannah was just glad she was able to wake up before the screaming started. She did not want another trip to the psychiatrist. Aqua eyes roamed the room, and the nine other girls who were still asleep. For the past three years she'd been in this room. She'd seen boys and girls alike come and go so many times, she didn't bother to learn their names anymore. It seemed they were there for a week or two, and then like magic, a family member came to get them. It was never Hannah's turn. Until now. Her gaze fell on a lone suitcase sitting in the corner of the room and her lips turned up in a small smile. The head of the foster home, Mrs. Morrison, came to Hannah with tears in her eyes, telling her that her father's sister had made contact to come and claim her. But, that had been two weeks ago. Mrs. Morrison had told her time and time again that there was a lot of paperwork to go through before her aunt could even step foot on the block. Hannah had to think if that was really the case, though. It was nerve wracking to think she was going to meet a member of her father's family, when she'd never even met the man herself. Sure, her mother told her stories about him before. Hannah knew what kind of man he was due to those. He was kind and brave, always thoughtful of others, and above all he loved her mother. Her mother loved him too, always keeping her heart for the day he came back. But, he never did come back. And now it was too late. She had to wonder what kind of man he was in reality. He left his family before Hannah was born, and her mother told her they both didn't know she was there when he had to leave, and he was somewhere he'd never be able to know. What kind of place was that? There was such thing as international calling, so why did they never get any phone calls?  Another rumble of thunder ripped Hannah from her musings with a jump. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and let out a quiet groan. It wasn't even seven in the morning. She wouldn’t be getting anymore sleep with the thunder. No. If she did fall asleep, she would be plagued by nightmares again. With that thought she got out of bed and made her way to the packed suitcase, opening it as quietly as she could. She stared at the clothing inside, all but one shirt neatly folded. She picked up the rolled up article and unwrapped the framed photograph inside. As soon as she saw her mother's face smiling up at her, she felt better. Next to the woman in the picture was an incredibly tall man, his eyes focused on her mother with such love in them his gaze. That man, as her mother had explained every night since she could remember, was her father. The resemblance between her and her father, was uncanny. Every morning, Hannah stared into the mirror, trying to see her mother's face staring back at her, but all she could see was her father. The only thing she got from her mother was her platinum hair. Putting the picture away, the girl took out running clothes for the morning and glanced at the window. It seemed the rain was stopping. Good. She got dressed quickly and quietly stole out of the room, the house silent around her as she made her way downstairs. As soon as she stepped outside the humidity from the rain hit her and she began to sweat. Perfect running weather. Making sure her laces were tight, Hannah took off down the block toward the town. It was quiet as she jogged, the shops still closed until later that morning. Only a few people were out, either running or walking their dogs. The air was still a bit misty and the ground still wet, her sneakers splashing through some puddles as she went. A car passed her and the driver honked the horn, waving at Hannah with a smile, his wife mirroring the gesture. In the back seat their children sat asleep, suitcases telling her they were on their way for a vacation. Hannah waved back, forcing a smile, all the while wanting what they had to come back to her. Her mother once told her life wasn't fair. She snorted. 'Tell me about it.' She turned a corner and headed for the park, mainly for her favorite spot. When she made it, she collapsed under the branches of a thick pine, the ground underneath the bristles dry even after a full night of rain. She panted as she leaned against the trunk, watching the gray clouds lighten even more as the sun rose fully. A few drops of water still fell here and there, splashing down to the ground in a rhythm that slowly called to Hannah and she closed her eyes, slipping into slumber quickly under the tree.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Hannah!" A voice cut through the darkness that wrapped around Hannah's mind, calling her from slumber land. "Hannah! Wake up!" She recognized the voice as one of the girls who slept in the same room as her in the foster home. What was her name again, and why was she here? Hannah opened her eyes and blinked up at the girl standing over her, hands on her hips, sweat running down her face. "Do you realize how long I've been looking for you? It's too hot to be running around town like this." Hannah sat up with a groan, stretching out her sore muscles before standing. "What time is it?" The other girl gave a frustrated sigh. "A little after noon. Mrs. Morrison is looking for you. There's someone at the house for you." The girl's voice spoke volumes as hints of her jealousy came through, her dull brown eyes narrowed.

"All right, I'm coming. did she say who it was?" Probably another state official coming to ask questions about her mysterious aunt. How many times did she have to tell them she didn't know the woman. The other girl shrugged, walking beside Hannah. "No, but she isn't from the state. If she is, then they'd better start hiring different people that won't scare the kids. I saw her waiting in Mrs. Morrison's office, and this lady was huge! I mean, sitting down she had to be like six feet!" Hannah almost stopped short. Not from the state, and extremely tall. Her father's smiling face flashed through her mind. Could this mean..."Listen, I'm gonna jog the rest of the way, loosen up from sleeping under that tree. I'll see you at home!" Hannah waved as she ran off, skipping right into a full out sprint. Not someone from the state asking for her. Was it finally the day she got to meet this mysterious aunt?

Her heart pounded in her ears as she ran, a smile blooming on her face, and for the first time in three years she couldn't wait to go home. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was panting as she rounded the corner on her block, nearly slipping on the damp pavement. As she neared the house, she saw a strange car sitting in the driveway in back of the state van. She made her legs move faster, running up the stairs to the porch two at a time and burst into the house, the door slamming against the wall. Mrs. Morrison and another woman were standing in the hallway talking, both of them jumping at Hannah's entrance. The girl couldn't help but stare at the strange woman with the foster home director. The other girl was right...this woman would definitely scare the kids if she were from the state. She towered over Mrs. Morrison by at least two feet, making her close to seven feet tall, which meant Hannah would look like a child standing next to her. "Hannah," Mrs. Morrison began, a stern look on the woman's face from her entrance. "This is Susan Dereks, your father's sister." She said the words lightly, her voice wavering a bit. Her aunt...All she could do was stare in complete shock. In all her dreams, she never thought an aunt or uncle would come for her. Heck, she never thought any family member would come for her. Instantly she could see the resemblance between the woman and her father. The woman had the same blue-green eyes that shone with mysteries and warmth, their smiles the same. Susan's eyes filled with tears that she blinked back, taking a step toward Hannah. "You look just like your father," she whispered in a strained voice. "But, you have your mother's hair." The girl brought a hand up to her hair, the waves entangling in her fingers. While she was staring at her hair, she didn't realize the woman had come closer, and nearly jumped back when she was right in front of her. She felt dwarfed in Susan's presence, much like, she was right. A child. Hannah stared up at her for a moment before the question that had been plaguing her came out. "Why now?" The tall woman cocked her head to the side. "What was that, sweetie?" "I asked why now? It's been three years, so why did you come now? Why you and not my father?" Even though things had been explained to her, Hannah thought this was a little too fishy. Susan shook her head and took a seat in the overstuffed armchair in the hall, smiling at Mrs. Morrison when the woman took her leave to give them some time alone. "Your father, he doesn't know about you, Hannah. I actually just found out about your mother a few days ago when I came to see her. You see, I live pretty far from here, as does your father. He," she paused to take a shuddering breath. "He doesn't know about the accident yet." She shook her head. "As soon as I found out what happened and learned you existed, I began making preparations to come and get you.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “Oh gods, why didn't I come sooner?" She dropped her head into her hands. "When your parents went their separate ways, I was so angry at your mother. I thought she just couldn't deal with the differences between her and my brother and threw him out. I learned later on that it was your father that left. He didn't want to hurt your mother, and couldn't bring her with him. At least at the time. He's been requesting things be changed, but the council has been stubborn as ever." Hannah listened to the woman's story with confusion. What was this woman talking about? "What differences?" she asked after a moment, feeling anger seeping into her voice. "What could have been so different about them that they had to split apart? It's not like they were two different species. And what country could he possibly live in that wouldn't allow us to go with him? I've never heard of any law like that anywhere on earth." Susan stiffened and raised her head, her face white with shock. "She never told you," she whispered after a long moment. At that moment Mrs. Morrison came back into the hall looking at her watch. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's almost time for me to start lunch, and trust me, you don't want the younger ones around when you take Hannah. They look up to her, in a way." There was a slight pause as she took in the looks on both of their faces. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Susan said and sniffed. “I just found something out that I wished had been explained to Hannah....but, it’s alright. I’ll tell her when we get back..speaking of which, we should leave soon, or traffic is going to be awful. Why don’t you go get your bags and I’ll finish up with Mrs. Morrison.” Susan smiled down at her niece, wanting to hug her, but knowing it was too soon.

Hannah’s mind suddenly stopped. “Wait, I’m leaving today?” she asked. What about what her mother never told her? "Everything is set. I called the numbers you gave me, and all the paperwork is in complete order, you just need to look them over, Mrs. Dereks." She paused and looked between them. That question seemed to snap Susan out of her trance and she nodded. "Yes, yes, that sounds fine." The woman got up to follow the woman into her office. Mrs. Morrison nodded and gave Hannah a kind, but watery smile. "Go on upstairs and make sure you’ve got everything, okay? It won’t take more than a few minutes for us to be done." Hannah nodded slowly and made her way toward the stairs, her eyes on Susan as she climbed, following her until Mrs. Morrison shut the door to her office. Those words, the look on her face. Something was up with this Susan. And in order to figure it out, Hannah had to go with her and get all she could out of the woman. What started out as excitement slowly faded into worry.

The girl sat on her bed, her packed suitcase in front of her, staring at it as thoughts piled into her mind. What didn't her mother tell her? What could that possibly mean? She wracked her brain, still staring at the closed case. But, she couldn't figure out the answer and sitting there wouldn't get it for her. She had to find out for herself.

So with a nod, she grabbed the handle and lifted it with a grunt. Turning, she stared at the room that had been her home for what seemed like forever. She finally leaving this place, and with a stranger that the state said was her aunt. Hannah thought she would be sadder to leave, but she wasn't that happy either. Maybe she felt like she did because everything was happening so suddenly. She gripped the handle for her suitcase and walked away from her bed with a grim smile. "Finally," she whispered. It was her turn. She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Now it was time to find out what was going on. Susan was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps, giving her a happy yet sad smile. "Ready?" she asked and Hannah nodded. Mrs. Morris stopped her, pulling into a tight hug. "I'm so happy for you, sweetie." Her voice was thick with emotion and Hannah felt tears burning her eyes. Why did she feel like this was the last time she could see the woman? "Thank you for everything," Hannah whispered. The woman nodded and sniffled, pulling away. "Better get going before it gets too late. And Hannah, be good." Hannah nodded and turned to Susan who was waiting by the door, her head nearly touching the top of the frame, the sunlight pouring in from the open door as they took a step outside. And that was how, after three years, Hannah left the foster home.

[my-creative-hell]

Valentines (Teen au)

“Dad?” Grave pushes the door to Iden’s room open gently, her skin glowing slightly, though she keeps her voice quiet.

“Morning sweetheart.” Iden smiles as he turns over in the bed, stirring from his sleep happily.

“Do you know what day it is?” Grave questions, smiling as she sits next to Iden on the bed, feeling excited.

“Hm… let me see. Might it be valentines?” Iden sits up in his bed as he smiles knowingly, hugging Grave gently.

“Maybe…” Grave admits, returning the hug happily as her mind runs off with many thoughts about how the day would go.

“Excited?” Iden laughs as he see’s his daughters mind go into a world of her own, his voice low and joyful.

“Yes!!!” Grave exclaims, glowing more as she hides her face, her mind racing as Iden laughs louder.

“Oh! I forgot to mention, auntie Hannah brought over some small cakes for you to give to the girls.” Iden explains, carrying Grave gently as he gets off of his bed.

“Yay!!!” Grave wiggles excitedly as Iden carries her down the stairs carefully, Misty running around downstairs.

“What are you gonna do with the girls?” Iden questions, smiling softly as he holds Grave.

“I-I… I dunno, I’ve never gotten this far!” Grave explains, trying to think of ideas as Iden puts her down gently.

“Well… what do they like?” Iden questions, wanting to help Grave out as Misty pads quietly into the room, searching for his breakfast.

“Oh, Rose likes space! Like… a lot.” Grave thinks her options over, coming up with a simple plan for the day.

“Well, that’s somewhere to start.” Iden notes, smiling as he watches Grave think of more ideas.

“Hmmmmm…” Grave tries to think more, her brain pulling a blank as she places her head in her hands.

“Can’t think of Scarlet?” Iden questions, smiling as he watches Grave struggle silently.

“Yeah, I dunno what she likes!” Grave frowns, feeling slightly disheartened by this realisation.

“Well, I think I know one thing.” Iden tries to raise her spirits, gently poking Grave’s nose as he speaks.

“What is it?” Grave questions, buzzing happily as she smiles, making Iden laugh at her excitement.

“Well, she seems to really like sweet things, especially red velvet cake, which is what Hannah made for her.” Iden explains calmly.

“Aaa!” Grave hides her face as she glows even more, her scream happy and quiet as she does.

“You’re gonna have a fun time with them.” Iden smiles, gently patting Grave on the back as she hides her face.

“I sure hope so!” Grave blushes slightly as she thinks about it, making Iden laugh as he squeezes her gently.

“I’m sure you will!” He exclaims happily. “Oh, Hannah asked for you to pop into the bakery before you go to theirs and get them, said she got some things to help you.” Iden explains.

“Rad!!!” Grave squeaks softly, buzzing happily as she looks up at Iden, her mind racing with thoughts.

“Why don’t you get dressed and go catch her, I’m sure she’ll let you nab a muffin for breakfast.” Iden smiles as he speaks.

“Okay!” Grave presses a happy kiss to Iden’s cheek as she runs upstairs to her room to get changed, Iden smiling as he brew some coffee, Misty jumping around the kitchen.

“Um…” Grave stands in front of her closet, looking at her clothes as she thinks, unsure if she should attempt to be fancy or wear something she would normally wear on any other day.

It only takes a few moments for Grave to make her decision, putting on a large dad shirt before wandering downstairs again.

“How do I look?” Grave questions, feeling excited as she talks to Iden, who is holding his coffee gingerly in his hands.

“You look great!” Iden smiles as Misty adds a quiet bark of agreement, his tail wagging happily.

“Thank you!” Grave smiles, wiggling happily as she squeaks, making Iden laugh quietly.

“You’re welcome kiddo. Now, best be off to the bakery before it gets too late.” He reminds her gently.

“Right!” Grave gives Iden a quick kiss as she runs out the door, clipping through it instead of actually opening it, making Iden smile as he pets Misty.

Grave walks, glowing as she speeds into the town, feeling happy as she spots the bakery owned by her aunt, walking inside.

“Hi!!!” Grave enters the shop cheerily, Hannah smiling as she comes out of the back with a fresh tray of cakes.

“Hey kiddo.” She returns the greeting warmly, setting down the tray as she speaks.

“It’s Valentines Day!” Grave exclaims, fiddling with her hands excitedly, unsure of what else to say.

“It is… I’m gonna assume your dad sent you to get the stuff?” Hannah questions, laughing quietly at Grave’s excitement.

“Mhm!” Grave nods, her skin glowing, making Hannah laugh more as she leans behind the counter, grabbing something.

“Alright, I got you a few things pertaining to each of their likes… sound good?” Hannah explains, smiling.

“Sounds great!” Grave confirms, squeaking quietly as she waits, buzzing loudly as she tries to remain still.

“Okay… so I got some space pyjamas for Rose, as well as some glow in the dark sticky stars for her room and a plush. Scarlet was harder, specially since she’s been sick…”  Hannah explains, bringing out a bag of wrapped presents.

“Oh no… I hope she gets better soon.” Grave takes the presents gratefully, frowning slightly at the news.

“But, I did manage to find out she apparently has a love for anything fluffy… so, I got her a fluffy hoodie and a blanket and socks and I put some medicine in there for her.” Hannah smiles warmly.

“Soft things for a cool person!!!” Grave smiles brightly, bouncing in excitement as she speaks, too happy to think about anything else.

“Ya eaten anythin yet hun?” Hannah questions, leaning against the counter as she smiles.

“Um… no, I don’t think so!” Grave thinks for a moment before answering, her smile large and happy, making Hannah snort in amusement.

“Well, I’ve got some blueberry muffins that just came out of the oven, you can have one of them.” She offers, handing Grave a package of muffins to go with her presents. “Also, these are the muffins for you and the girls, got their favourite flavours in there.” Hannah explains quietly.

Grave squeaks, too happy to even speak as she wiggles contently, making Hannah laugh.

“Alright kiddo, careful or ya might explode.” She cautions jokingly, handing Grave a blueberry muffin to eat.

“I don’t wanna explode! I can’t talk to Rose and Scarlet if I’m an explosion.” Grave giggles as she takes the muffin gladly.

“Exactly.” Hannah smiles. “So you better eat up and go get them, cause I’m sure they’re excited to see you.” She explains calmly.

“I think I’ll eat while I go.” Grave explains, smiling. “Bye bye, Auntie!” Grave smiles as she leaves the bakery, biting into her muffin.

“See ya kiddo!” Hannah waves as she watches her leave, returning to her work for the day.

Grave finishes her muffin quickly, feeling excited as she skips down the streets towards Rose’s home.

Grave arrives at Rose’s home quickly, her knocking on the door soft and quiet despite the swelling excitement inside of her.

“Hey hon.” Rose’s aunt, Robin opens the door, smiling warmly as she see’s Grave standing outside.

“Hi, its Valentines Day!!!!” Grave exclaims, too happy to think of any other words as she speaks.

“It is. Rose it just getting ready, come inside.” Robin explains, opening the door more for Grave.

“How are you?” Grave wiggles happily as she enters the house, playing with her hands as Robin pats her gently on the head.

“I’m doing well, as I hope you are.” She returns the sentiment, smiling warmly as she leads Grave inside, closing the door behind them.

“I’m doing great!!! I feel very excited and I can’t stay still!!!!” Grave explains, wiggling happily as Robin laughs softly.

“Well that’s only natural when you get to spend the entire day with people you love… do you know what you’re doing?” She questions.

“Yes, I know exactly what I’m doing!” Grave nods, playing with her hands more as Robin smiles.

“I know Rose has been looking forward to seeing you.” She explains softly, her expression warm and kind.

“S-She has?” Grave blushes, looking down at her feet at this information as Robin bites back a laugh.

“Of course she has!” She explains, Rose coming down the stairs as she speaks, wearing an appropriately themed red dress.

“H-Hi Rose…” Grave greets Rose quietly, her face flushing as red as her dress as she looks at her.

“Hi!” Rose encases Grave in a happy hug, kissing her gently as she wraps around her, feeling warm and content.

“Y-You look beautiful…” Grave giggles quietly, returning the kiss as she looks at Rose, in awe.

“Thank you, you look amazing too!” Rose blushes at the compliment, smiling down at Grave.

“Not as good as you, I-I’m just wearing a dad shirt!” Grave protests, playing with her hands.

“But its you! So I love it.” Rose explains, smiling as she grabs her coat, sliding it on effortlessly.

“That’s so cheesy… I love it!” Grave giggles, her face flushing more, red as Rose stands next to her.

“Shall we be off?” Rose laughs quietly, smiling as Robin waves to them both silently.

“We shall!” Grave holds Rose’s hand as she waves to Robin, both of them leaving Rose’s home, walking towards Scarlet’s house together.

“I have a surprise for both of you, but you’ve gotta wait.” Grave explains, glowing happily as she giggles.

“Oh! Sounds interesting!” Rose smiles as she walks with Grave, feeling excited as they move.

“It i s!” Grave agrees, her heart fit to burst with how much happiness it contains as she hears Rose giggle.

“Shame Scarlet’s not feeling well… but we get to smother her in love!” Rose smiles, squeezing Grave’s hand gently.

“Yes!!! She deserves all the love!” Grave squeaks, a large smile on her face as she looks up at Rose.

“Especially since she’s been ill.” Rose explains, smiling softly. “I don’t know if she’ll be allowed out, so maybe we should spend the day with her in her room?” She offers her idea quietly.

“Yes, that’s a great idea!!!” Grave nods, agreeing as she glows, feeling excited to see both of her girlfriends together.

“I think we’re close!!” Rose giggles as she spots Scarlet’s home, her face lighting up happily.

“Good!!!” Grave gasps softly, pulling on Rose’s hand gently as she begins to walk faster, making Rose laugh.

“Yay! This is gonna be fun!” Rose smiles as they approach the large house, Grave knocking clearly on the front door, wiggling in excitement as she waits for someone to answer.

“Well hello girls!” Scarlet’s dad answers the door, smiling brightly as she see’s the two of them.

“Hi!!! I-It’s Valent-…oh wait, you know that already.” Grave cuts herself off, giggling as she grins happily.

“Scarlet’s made me very aware, I assure you. Here to see her?” Scarlet’s dad laughs heartily, looking down at Grave.

“Yes!!!” Grave nods excitedly, tapping her feet against the floor as she wiggles, unable to contain herself.

“She’s still getting over that flu, so I’m not sure if she’s awake yet, but you’re welcome to go and see her in her room.” Scarlet’s dad smiles kindly, letting Grave and Rose inside the house, closing the door behind them.

Grave flaps her hands, too excited for words as she walks up the stairs, Rose giggling quietly behind her as she follows along, both of them arriving at Scarlet’s closed bedroom door.

Grave knocks on the door softly, despite every urge in her body demanding she kick the door down in excitement. Scarlet doesn’t answer to the knocking, the room beyond the door silent and still.

“Should we open the door?” Grave questions, thinking over their options as she asks Rose.

“If she’s still asleep she won’t wake up otherwise…” Rose explains, smiling softly as she looks at Grave.

“True… and she might be spooked if she wakes up and we’re just in her room.” Grave explains, nodding as she giggles.

“We’ll just have to wake her up gently.” Rose offers, patting Grave’s shoulder gently as she smiles.

“Good idea!” Grave smiles happily as she wiggles, opening the door quietly, revealing Scarlet still asleep curled up in her large bed. Her face is flushed slightly with heat, though most of her symptoms seem to have died down now.

“You wanna wake her up or…? Should we do it together?” Grave questions, glowing more as she sees Scarlet, her voice hushed.

“Together I think.” Rose smiles as she looks at Grave, her expression soft and gentle. Grave holds her hand happily, gently poking Scarlet.

“Welp, that didn’t work.” Grave jokes, making Rose giggle quietly as she drags her down to sit on Scarlet’s bed beside her, carefully shaking Scarlet.

“Wake up, there’s dogs outside!” Grave coaxes, poking Scarlet gently as she sits on the bed. Scarlet turns in her bed, facing them as she begins to stir from her sleep.

“Its time to be gay, stop sleeping.” Grave encourages her, gently poking her nose as Scarlet wakes up more.

“Hi…” Scarlet’s voice is quiet and small as she speaks, smiling softly as she rubs at her eyes.

“Hi!!!” Grave squeaks, managing to keep her voice quiet despite her building excitement.

“Glad to see you feeling a bit better.” Rose comments, smiling gently as she watches Scarlet.

“Oh! I-I have some medicine for you, my auntie got it.” Grave explains, thinking her words over.

“That’s so sweet…” Scarlet smiles, gently pushing herself up into a sitting position in her bed.

“Have!!!” Grave pulls out the medicine, handing it to Scarlet as she smiles kindly, making Scarlet giggle. She reads the label as Rose pulls herself under the covers, moving Grave to sandwich Scarlet between them.

“Mmm… you can’t escape now. You’ve been trapped in l o v e!” Grave presses a soft kiss to Scarlet’s forehead.

“I’m too sick to protest…” She conceded, giggling as she takes a dose of the medicine, snuggling into the bed.

“That’s good! …Ish.” Grave laughs quietly. “But love and medicine will make you all better and then we can screm!”

“That sounds nice.” Scarlet smiles as Rose squishes her slightly, making her feel safe and comfortable.

Grave kisses both of them happily, getting quiet for a moment before gasping, remembering the presents. She buzzes as she reaches for the bag to pull them out.

“Should we find a gay movie to watch?” Rose questions, laughing softly as she hugs Scarlet.

“Yes!!! The gayer the better!” Grave exclaims, pulling out the presents and giving them to Rose and Scarlet. “T-These are for you two, by the way…” She explains, keeping quiet.

“Really?” Rose’s face lights up in excitement as she looks to Grave, her eyes wide.

“O-Of course!” Grave blushes as she looks at Rose, looking away as Rose smiles sweetly.

“This is so cool!” Rose unwraps her presents as Scarlet puts on a movie for the three of them, grinning happily.

“I-I’m glad you like it…” Grave blushes more as she hides her face, though it doesn’t stop Rose from attacking her with kisses as Scarlet open her gifts. A small pause follows her opening the presents before she proceeds to put on the fluffy socks and hoodie, wrapping herself up in the plush blanket happily.

“We’ve got a blanket burrito gorl!!!” Grave exclaims, giggling as she returns the kisses softly, glowing with joy.

“Thank you.” Scarlet smiles as she snuggles into her new fluffy clothing, feeling warm and protected.

“You’re welcome!” Grave smiles as she hands Rose the container of muffins. “A-Also these…” She explains as Rose hugs her.

“Aw, your Aunt put all our favourite flavours in here. Grave, there’s one for you too!” Rose smiles as she looks at the cakes.

“Really?” Grave glows softly as she watches Rose unpack the cakes for each of them.

“Blueberry like you love!” Rose nods, smiling as she hands Grave her muffin gently.

“Yay!!!” Grave squeaks happily, starting to eat her muffin in joy as Rose smiles, her and Scarlet eating their own quietly.

“Guess what?” Grave questions, glowing as she speaks to the two of them, feeling happy.

“What?” Scarlet wiggles as she bites into her muffin, looking at Grave questioningly as she waits for the answer.

“I love you!!!” Grave exclaims, covering the both of them in affectionate kisses, making Scarlet blush red.

“We love you too!” Rose giggles as she watches Scarlet hide in her blanket, too flustered to speak.

“Aaaaa!!!” Grave glows more as she hides her face, making Rose smiles as she litters it with kisses anyway, Scarlet leaning against Grave’s shoulder gently.

“I’m gonna d i e!” Grave blushes more as she giggles, making Rose smile as she sits back.

“Don’t die.” Scarlet urges quietly, nuzzling into Grave softly as she speaks, warm and comfortable.

“But you’re too c u t e and I’m allergic to that! Its surprising I didn’t die when I first saw you two!!” Grave protests, buzzing softly.

“Aw, well we’re glad you didn’t. Why don’t we calm down and watch the movie, yeah?” Rose giggles quietly as she looks at Grave.

“Yes please.” Grave nods, pulling both of them into a warm hug as she watches; Scarlet humming happily as Rose strokes her fingers through her hair.

Grave melts into the touch, hiding her face in Rose as she giggles, giving Grave gentle head strokes as well as they sit.

“I’m gonna turn into mush!” Grave cautions, her heart warm and fuzzy feeling as she sits.

“I can’t kiss mush!” Rose protests, smiling down at Grave as she scoots closer to them both.

“Okay f i n e, I wont be mush…” Grave concedes, littering Rose’s face in kisses as she giggles, hugging Grave and Scarlet gently.

Grave presses some soft kisses to Scarlet’s face as she closes her eyes, basking in the warmth as Rose smiles, stroking their hair softly as Grave starts to feel sleepy.

“I think the meds you gave her might have had a drowsy effect…” Rose snickers, referencing Scarlet quietly.

“Maybe! But sleeping is good. You can sleeb away bad things.” Grave explains, smiling as she opens her eyes, able to see Scarlet leaning against her shoulder, all but asleep.

“So cute…” Grave giggles quietly, gently poking Scarlet’s nose as she keeps her voice quiet as Rose smiles, littering her face with small kisses.

“Mmmnot here.” Grave returns the kisses as she hides her face, making Rose smile more as she hugs them both.

“But you are.” Rose argues quietly, letting Scarlet fall asleep comfortably between them.

“But what if… I’m not?” Grave presses, trying not to giggle as she speaks, making Rose laugh quietly.

“But you are, and I’m happy for that.” Rose explains, her voice soft and sweet as honey.

“You’re so mushy!” Grave giggles as she comes out of hiding, making Rose smile as she presses a gentle kiss to her face.

“That’s g a y.” Grave gasps quietly as she giggles, making Rose laugh as she gently strokes through her hair.

Grave blushes as she closes her eyes, Rose feeling warm and calm as Scarlet leans against her, fully asleep now.

Grave starts to feel sleepy as she presses their foreheads together, Rose humming a soft melody for her as she too falls asleep, Rose shortly following as they hold each other securely.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 24 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I suspected the Gala would be at least two parts, and I was right--this is ostensibly the first half of it, 25 will be the second half. I don’t think it’ll go longer than that, but who knows, I never know until I sit down and write the chapter. Here are some higher quality pics of Kenzie’s dress. Her hair looks like this, but with tiny dark red rose buds rather than those little white flowers in it. Her makeup is similar to this look for Billie’s Bello magazine shoot, but her lipstick is like mine here. Here are her shoes. Kenzie is beginning to be able to see herself the way other people do--as something truly divine, her “Supremeness”, as it were--but she has no ego in those moments. The perception is an accurate one. The album Duncan puts on is Prince’s self-titled, the first track is I WANNA BE YOUR LOVER. Duncan’s hair in this part is similar to Cody’s hair here, which is more or less always how Duncan’s hair looks, just particularly well-coiffed on this night, I guess. His makeup is like Cody’s here. With Hannah and Georgio, I wanted to juxtapose the different reactions Duckenzie invoke in people--for some they are divinely inspiring, and for others with darker auras, they invoke carnal lust. Hannah’s jumpsuit looks like this, her hair like this. I based her vaguely on my friend Aly, who has a very dusty sunset aura to me and a beautiful soul. Here’s Annette’s Gala dress. Her hair looks like this. The necklace she gives Kenzie is vintage Cartier, and it looks like this. A special shout out to Luna (@misslunarayne/@officialcodysfallenangels) who inspired Anchaly reading Hawthorne’s THE NEW ADAM AND EVE; she’s the one who told me about the Millory parallels in that book. Momby’s dress, her rose pin, her scarf. Here’s Jimi Hendrix’s PURPLE HAZE (he and I have the same birthday, November 27th). STOP AND BE FRIENDLY is a reference to CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND, one of my favorite films (so I made it one of Kenzie’s favorites, too). I couldn’t find a logo for Shepherd Unlimited, and have no idea if the HOUSE OF CARDS showrunners ever created one, so I made one up. Here’s Gretchen Friedrichs’ absolute monstrosity of a dress. Sissy Conners’ dress looks like this. The “very famous actor” can be whoever you want it to be--I dunno, Colin Firth or Ryan Gosling or somebody. Here are the Pre-Raphaelite works I reference in this part: VENUS VERTICORDIA, VANITY, THE FIELD OF THE SLAIN, THE GOLDEN STAIRS, OPHELIA. Here are the angels from Waterhouse’s ST. CECELIA who remind Kenzie of Lindy and Gabby. To me, Lindy and Gabby represent the Millory fans; the lovely people I’ve met online who ship Michael x Mallory, without whom I would not have been inspired to write this story. The Millory fans are by and large extremely beautiful souls who have touched my heart immensely--in most cases, young women (many of you bi/pan, like me) who want to believe in love and redemption and beauty, and my fic, in many ways, is for young (and young at heart) women and nonbinary people who want these things in their lives. I still believe in the healing, transcendent power of love, despite all the terrible things in this world, and I ALWAYS will, and this is and will continue to be an unabashed love story. Here’s Marissa Montague’s dress. Her hair is like Emma’s here. She was fun to write. My Marissa is a very superficial, sad person, and Kenzie sees through her right away. The Ducatis are a wealthy family I made up who Duncan used to hang out with when he was younger, partying all the time with superficial socialites like Marissa. I wanted to note that Duncan did go through a phase where he was doing coke all the time and sleeping around, because he is indeed a spoiled rich boy in some ways, and he wasn’t always a great person. Kenzie has given him purpose and an active desire to be better, because love always inspires one to be better. Kenzie is waking to powers she didn’t know she had as she and Duncan get closer to learning about their true natures. If anyone would like to make a Gala moodboard/edit for this part of the story, I’d be OVERJOYED. And as ever, if you’re reading along, your comments, likes, reblogs, asks and edits mean everything to me. Please take a second to like the fic if you’re reading, thank you!

Kenzie broke their kiss reluctantly, her head cloudy with the scent of him (the woods of you, your ache for me, I feel the wildness of your high desire for me, baby, impatient for later), aware of Claire and Morgan’s eyes on them in the bright studio. Duncan made a soft sound as she pulled away from him, one of regret at her absence--his lips came up to her temple, his hands pulling her into him; those hands on the silky gold of her dress made her heart drop down to float in her stomach, spread warm tendrils to her sex. She could feel his thoughts still, aching against her.

Kenzie. My beloved. Everyone will bow to you tonight. But I swear I am your most devoted. And I swear I will worship you best.

“Wow, it got really hot in here,” Claire murmured, fluttering her hand against her cheek, breathing out in a long stream. “Fuck, you two look amazing. Wait until they do her hair and makeup, Duncan. They’ll want to hang pictures of her in the MOMA.”

“Clairebear, stoppit.”

“I am not fucking joking around, Kenzie Lou. You two look like a drawing in a mythology book. Like a fairy tale.” Kenzie could see the tears glittering around the edges of Claire’s eyes; her friend looked away, clearly overwhelmed in her emotions.

“My darlings,” Morgan said, coming up to them, reaching for their hands. Kenzie took one, Duncan the other, his arm still dipped around her waist, trailing up and down the softness of the gold there, against the waves of her hair. “Likes Hades and his bright queen Persephone.”

“They really are like that,” Kenzie heard Claire say as Morgan moved toward her assistant, agreeing delightedly, grasping Claire’s hand now. She felt her cheeks flush.

“That’s how I always think of her,” Kenzie heard Duncan say to Morgan. “Surrounded by flowers, bringing spring. Healing me.” Kenzie’s heart twinged. Everyone can see it. How he’s been healed. And I supposed it has been because of me in some ways. But I know he had it in him, in his dear heart, all along. And despite what he knows about Annette now, he’ll defy that too. He’ll transcend whatever was holding him back. Duncan had turned his head back down to her, and his hands tightened on her, the gold bracelet brushing along her bare shoulder blade.

I will, baby. With you here, I can do anything. As long as you’re here I know nothing can really hurt me. My constant moon. My flower of the universe. She was nodding, overwhelmed in the weight of his touch, his hand drifting to cradle her head at the nape of her neck.

“Erik’s going to be bringing the stylists to the penthouse soon,” he said down to her, his eyes intensely bright on her (so blue so blue blue like the blessed daylight, blue like sapphire), his thoughts bursts of brilliant desire, like tiny electric shocks cascading over her. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you--”

“I’m losing my mind over you--” Kenzie gripped at the velvet lapels of his gold-kissed jacket, lifting her hand up to the soft waves of his hair, the diamond and gold at her wrist reminding her again of her daydreams of the circlet of a crown around his head. Duncan. You worship me but my love, I worship you also. I am moved, body and soul, by you. Prince of stars.

The gold is your hands on me, he whispered into the corners of her mind. How it feels to be touched by you. How it feels to be looked at by you. How it feels to be loved by you. The gold is you and tonight everything is for you, and everyone will see you and know.

“Duncan, look at her shoes,” Claire was coming over to them, having found some semblance of composure, carefully holding Kenzie’s elbow as she leaned to the hem of the cascading gold dress, lifting it so Kenzie’s feet were exposed--her shoes were shimmering gold platform sandals with ribbons that wrapped around her ankles, tying at the back.

“They remind me of the shoes she was wearing the night we met,” Duncan was saying to Claire, his hand trailing down Kenzie’s arm, sending a shiver down her back. “I remember I looked at her feet and I thought oh, she ties her shoes in double knots, like I do. And in that moment, I was a goner.”

“Everything you ever wanted,” Kenzie grinned at him. “A girl who ties her shoes like you.”

“She looked like a fucking angel, Claire. You look like a fucking goddess right now, Kenzie. Like a queen. I love you.” Duncan was pressing against her again, his mouth on her cheek, his hands falling down the dress, and Kenzie’s heart was in her mouth, the shape and scent of him the only thing, the greatest of all things, the center of her soul intoxicated in him.

“He ain’t kidding, Kenz. I can’t wait to see BPF tomorrow, honestly. That website is becoming one of my favorite pastimes nowadays, they’re as obsessed with my best friend as I am.” Claire’s eyes had tears in them again, and Kenzie felt her own eyes go misty.

“I fucking love you, Clairebear. Thank you for everything. I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am about you and Harris.”

When Claire had been helping Kenzie dress in the side-room, her friend had told her how shyly and sweetly Harris had called her after Kenzie had passed along her phone number; how he’d asked her if she’d be open to “stepping out” with him, and had told her that he’d been immediately moved by how lovely she was. “I know he’s like ten years older than me, but I feel like--” Claire had blushed deeply, and Kenzie had clutched her hands (oh Claire, I love you and your sweet spirit so much)--”I just--Kenzie Lou, I just feel like he has a lovely soul. I feel like he’s been mostly happy--like me--for a long time, but also lonely, like me, for a long time--” Tears had welled up in Claire’s eyes, and half-dressed, Kenzie had clutched her, burying her face in Claire’s flowery shoulder (she always smells like sunlight on grass and fresh lavender to me), knowing what Claire had meant, knowing Claire didn’t need to say anything else. To have someone to understand you, someone who can truly hold you in the hollow of their heart. I know, Clairebear. More than a friend. A lover. She had pushed a wave of gold into Claire--Claire had quieted and gone back to helping with her dress, wrapping the train carefully over Kenzie’s shoulder, straightening its cascade over her shoulder blade, pulling her hair free from where it’d tucked under the bodice and pulling her fingers through the waves. “Princess Kenzie,” she had whispered, and it had struck a long chord through Kenzie’s heart, reminded her of Duncan--Princess, moon princess, my little moonbeam--and the worship of his words and his lips and his hands in the darkness in their bed, and Kenzie had shivered to behold the way she seemed to transform in the gown, the way the woman who had stared at her in the slender mirror of the dressing room truly began to seem like a princess--like some golden queen, some other Kenzie who fears nothing. And so I will resolve to be her tonight. I will be fearless, regal, that Kenzie who is a queen, Persephone on her throne in the Underworld. I will pretend I’m her tonight, and hold my head high. Duncan told me I belong in this world--and I think I do, because I belong where he is. So I’ll pretend I’m not afraid. I’ll be the one who protects him tonight, because his heart has been wounded and his spirit needs me.

Even looking at him in the splendor of the gold-dipped blazer and the regal gold collar, she could still see the pain behind his gaze, the melancholy ache of yesterday still lingering around his mouth. My Hades, trapped in the Underworld. You felt lost; you still do. Even in the certainty of our love, you are questioning who you are. But together we’re going to find out. We’re going to find the secrets of ourselves together. Duncan was thanking Morgan, kissing her gloved hand, making Morgan laugh with delight--Kenzie’s heart pounded fiercely as she watched him, the fall of his hair, his height, the brightness of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, his angelic beauty, compounded by the elegant clothes. Beloved. Tonight we’ll show everyone how bright we shine together--tomorrow, we’ll retreat into the woods, to whisper our love into each other without needing to speak, to hide and heal in each other’s embrace, and gaze at the stars, and find each other’s secret places. To find the secrets that are so close to us, that we cannot see but have begun to feel, to sense in each other. They are so near. They are the shadow that stands beside us, and soon we’ll be able to see them, Duncan, baby.

He was looking over at her, and she saw in his eyes the recognition of her thoughts. I feel them too. Like they are waiting just around the corner for us. Like we’re seeing them in the mirror today, not ourselves. The echo of them.

They left Morgan’s studio with their hands grasped tightly together, Kenzie’s train carefully draped over Duncan’s arm as he led her down the stairs, easily supporting her petite frame as she blushed down at her feet, trying not to fall in the golden heels, trying not to fall into him the way she was longing to, dying to, remembering the way she’d pushed him into the wall in the stairwell that first night, impossibly hungry for him, the most beautiful boy I have ever fucking seen, and now, somehow, ever more beautiful, almost impossibly so. She could feel the tiny tremors under her skin, the dancing bursts of nervousness, the nerves borne of how lovely he was right now, how staggeringly beautiful to look at. We’ve fucked like crazy, we live together, and god, I still feel so fucking shy of you right now.

“Baby, are you kidding,” he whispered against her as she hovered on the stair above him, leaning his mouth up into her chin, hands falling back and forth over the golden cascade that covered her body. “You’re shy of me? I’m so fucking nervous right now--you’re so fucking beautiful and I can’t even think straight. You can’t possibly be mine. I can’t possibly deserve you. You’re a fucking angel.”

And he was pressing her against the wall of the stairwell now, ever so gently, the chilly cement of it against the bareness of her shoulders above the lame of the dress, her train still tucked into the crook of his elbow, and his mouth down at her collarbone, keeping her tethered to him, his lips drifting to her neck and below her ear, his breath whispering there, his eyelashes brushing the tiny space at the corner of her eye, tasting at her, murmuring further and further into her mind with taut insistence as his hands trembled and shivered down her arms, I can’t wait to get home so you can push that ring onto my cock, can’t wait to push that plug inside you while we stare into each other in the eyes of the Mirror that’s drifting into our dreams now, can’t wait to keep you close to me all night, anticipating the moment where we’re truly alone, can’t wait for everyone to behold you and the thrill of the secret knowledge that despite their longing you are mine alone, and that you chose me among all, that you blessed me, beloved, most fair among all, as your lover, I can’t wait to be so close to you again that we don’t know where part from each other, so close the sweat on our skin mingles on our skin flushed against each other, so close I can feel the clutch of your cunt gripping onto me, claiming me, fucking me, devouring me, can’t wait for you to fuck me, angel--and the insistence of his mouth under her hair was pushing her eyes to the metal underside of the staircase above, her mouth falling open in a gasp of absolute need that drive sharp knives of longing through her whole body.

Fuck, Duncan, I want you so much, I want you all to myself, Prince Duncan, I want your need to be the only thing you can think of, your need for me, I’m the golden gift just for you, the Pandora’s box full not of darkness, but exquisite loveliness, all for you, but you have to be patient today, Erik and the stylists are waiting for us, everyone is waiting for us tonight, waiting to see you, beautiful exalted Prince--

No, they’re waiting for YOU, my golden Persephone, it’s your golden beauty they are waiting for--his mouth was hovering over hers, not touching it, not quite, but begging to, sweetly open, aching to take hers, tilting his head, impossibly blue eyes rising and falling down the curve of her face, the gold waterfall of her dress--

“Let’s go, baby,” she gasped, gently pushing his arms away from her, gently turning from his mouth despite the soft, imploring sounds he made, his curls and the bridge of his nose brushing against her cheek. I can’t hold out when you’re touching me that way, I can’t stand it, Dunny, you have to stop, I can’t, I want you so much--

She grasped his hand as he stepped back on shaking feet, the gold of their bracelets clinking together softly, and he carefully gripped the train as she stepped ahead of him, down the last flight of stairs to the palm-lined foyer of Morgan’s studio building, and they were out in the oppressive, flushed heat of the day, but it felt good on Kenzie’s skin, it was a relief to be enveloped in the heat that was coursing through her body already. The world has been set on fire with our love, she thought, looking up at Duncan as he came through the door beside her, towards where Samuel was parked on the corner. He dipped his head to her, his mouth set to stave off his longing, and he was pushing his Yves sunglasses over his (ethereal blue like the heavens) eyes, but before he did she could see the patterned geometry of his soul there, which saw hers utterly, and wanted her, utterly, loved her, entirely. The world has turned, changed for us, become ours, and now it sees us, and it bows and encircles us in its desire, its heat is its kisses of worship on our skin, and it knows who we are. Soulmates.

---------

Samuel was looking at them with moon-bright eyes as Duncan helped Kenzie into the deeply cool interior of the car, and Kenzie smiled back at him shyly as he turned the stereo dial up--with a thrill she realized it was Jimi Hendrix, and his wild guitar crashed against her. Summer music. 

Purple haze all in my brain, lately things don’t seem the same, actin’ funny but I don’t know why, ‘scuse me while I kiss the sky...

“My dear Duncan and Mackenzie,” he said, foot on the gas, “you look like you stepped down from heaven a moment ago, off a falling star.”

“I feel like I’m in heaven, Samuel,” Kenzie replied, as Duncan’s hand slipped into hers. “I can’t come down, and I don’t want to.”

“You know it’s the full moon tonight,” Duncan’s chauffeur said, slipping dark sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the sunlight that streamed through the window. “The juju that comes on nights such as these is quite special. It’s fortuitous that the Gala is on such a night--tonight will be the night the world will see the true brightness of your love.”

Kenzie puzzled for a moment over Samuel’s words--what does that mean? She looked up at Duncan, who seemed to be openly staring at her behind his dark sunglasses, his lips parted, his hand dry and warm, his thumb drifting over her palm. She lifted a finger to pull them down at the rim, exposing his eyes to her--yep, staring. Blue like the clear shore of a bright ocean.

“What does that mean?” She mouthed to him, smiling at him, her cheeks flushed. Oddly, Samuel lifted the partition after that, somehow content not to explain himself further.

Duncan shrugged, and his fingers tightened in hers. He shook his head. Baby, I don’t know. But I have a strange feeling about tonight. I had a strange feeling about yesterday, too--I know you felt that. But today doesn’t have that mean feeling like yesterday, does it? It has some other kind of feeling. It’s heavy, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s like--a giant wheel turning. Like a huge clock tower chiming the hour. Like lifting your face to the sun after you’ve been indoors for a long time.

Yeah. Like that, she thought, nodding, her other hand drifting against his thigh, and then she spoke, in the cocoon of their privacy. “Duncan...I feel like I swallowed the sun and every bit of light is shooting from my eyes and my mouth and the tips of my hair and everyone it touches, they feel it too, they feel bright and healed. I feel like it’s my destiny to do that--touch people with the sunlight I can feel inside me.”

“You always make me feel that way. Like nothing bad can happen to me when you’re here. Like you’re the sun in the day and the moon at night, and you bring light where there would be darkness without you. Kenzie,” and he pressed his hand into her waist, his eyes fluttering at the softness of the gown, his breath gasping. “God, I want to just run away with you.”

“Away from everyone and everything to a secret place where no one can find us,” she whispered against him. Kenzie’s body felt flushed with overwhelming heat despite the coolness of the car. “Soon, baby, soon, we’ll eat fruit under the trees and swim in the lake and fuck so fucking much--” and she drifted her hand against his throat, thumb on the fullness of his lips, pulling him down against her, Duncan pulling his glasses off and dropping them unceremoniously on the car’s floor, gathering her in his arms, his mouth flushing into hers with her fingers still pressed under his jaw, tightening to hold him steady against her, and he whispered into her mouth, “baby, fuck, Kenzie--” and she could feel the rapid, frenzied drifting of his mind, the Bacchanalian chaotic need that was building in the center of him. To love you is holy madness, Mackenzie Stone. I fucking worship you. His mouth was in her hair, his fingers pulling it to his nose to breathe in the scent of her, and his expression was one of angelic beauty, an aching supplication to her, his finely chiseled features, his long straight nose, his full lips, his sharp jaw utterly divine in the purity of his love. It took her breath away to see him this way--it took her senses and rattled them apart, leaving her feeling spread like the particles of stardust in the night sky.

“Tonight,” she whispered against him, and she made herself look into his eyes, despite the shaking in her own soul, despite her fear of his beauty, because despite our closeness, my love, I still fear how lovely you are, I still fear your devotion because it shakes my fucking soul, and I fear you because your beauty seems impossible, and I see the inhuman in you, I fear the loss of you, for I’d die without you now-- “you’re gonna be aching for me all night, aren’t you, baby, you’re not gonna touch yourself at all, either, are you, baby, even though you’re gonna want to, I know,” and his tongue was pressing out onto her bottom lip, his tiny moans like sweet music in her ears, “you’re gonna want to but you aren’t going to, because only I get to touch you, only I get to take that ring off your poor aching cock, my poor baby--”

Duncan’s hands tightened at the back of her hair, twisting and forcefully pressing so her mouth crashed against his, and the need in it crushing against her heart with a possessive hand. I won’t baby, I won’t, but fuck, I want you now, how can I wait so long. His mouth was like the musky juice of some unearthly fruit. He must be what ambrosia tastes like. Like fucking sex. Like the pinnacle of all my desires. Like the highest part of my hope and the wildest release of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. There’s nothing like it I’ve ever felt anywhere. Him.

Kenzie’s hands were clutched to the gold-kissed lapels of his velvety jacket as they arrived at the penthouse all too soon, her fingers drifting against the intricate cages of the collar tips.

“I feel like you should be wearing a crown,” she whispered to him. Duncan’s hands were coming around to clutch hers at his throat, his mouth kissing at her fingertips.

“I keep imagining flowers in your hair,” he replied. “Flowers would be your crown, my beautiful Kenzie. So many flowers.”

Samuel was lowering the partition and Kenzie moaned against him, her heart crushed that they had so much longer to go before they’d be alone together again. It’s never enough, she thought to him. Whatever time we have alone, it’s never enough, it’s not even close to being enough.

I know baby, I know angel, I know, it’s never enough, kiss me, kiss me-- and they crushed their mouths together again, not caring that Samuel could see them now, his bright-moon gaze skirting over them then politely away, though Kenzie knew that it was difficult for him, knew he thought they were bright as stars, beautiful beyond words, though she couldn’t have said how she knew, only that Samuel’s emotion towards them in this moment was starkly bright, as if he were speaking it out loud, and then Duncan was pulling her out of the car and she felt dazed, dazed as Jerry opened the door for them, his expression one of utter amazement, until Anchaly let out a barking laugh of complete joy towards them that startled her so she clutched at Duncan’s hand, suddenly shy and apprehensive of the small man.

“And the spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters,” Anchaly said, and Kenzie saw Duncan’s puzzled look as they walked past. His eyes were glittering.

“I feel like you speak in riddles sometimes, Anchaly,” Duncan was saying as he pressed the button of the elevator. He had gathered her train up in his hand again, holding it gently over his arm, and Kenzie blushed, suddenly feeling deeply self-conscious, as if she were being led up to an opulent throne where she’d be crowned a queen of some unknown kingdom. She kept looking down to examine the dress, unconvinced it was real, its golden sheen seeping into the corners of her vision.

“Some glories require the words of someone more skilled than I,” Anchaly replied. “You two seem to render me speechless to express my astonishment without some help.”

“Is that from Proverbs, Anchaly? From the Bible?” Kenzie remembered a Moby song that had a similar name to the words Anchaly had spoken.

“Indeed. God creating the waters when he made the world.”

The elevator dinged open.

“You two seem to be creating something, too. The beauty of your love seems to be growing.”

Duncan didn’t reply--he seemed unsure of what to say. Kenzie could see the blush around his eyes.

“Anchaly, Annette’s going to be dropping something off for me soon,” Kenzie called out to him as Duncan pulled her inside. “Please call up to the penthouse when she’s here, will you?”

She saw Anchaly’s nod, the glittering quality of his eyes flashing at her again, and then Duncan was clutching her against him again in the gold interior of the elevator, his fingers achingly delicate on the gold of her dress, and she was lost inside his attentions, lost, and it was everything she could do not to grind against his thigh pressing her into the elevator’s mirror, not to stare in wonder at the loveliness of the picture they cast there, she blushed to be so struck with wonder at her own beauty, blushed to be overcome so often by the rightness of how they looked together. We really do look like royalty, like Pilar said. The moment was gone too soon as the elevator seemed to climb 30 stories in no time at all, and Duncan gently pulled away from her, grasping the train and urging her out as she giggled at him, dragging her softly to the penthouse door, through with they could already hear the voices of Erik and the stylists inside. Rather than using his keycard Duncan knocked twice, lazily, on the door, then in a moment of abandon, grabbed hold of her waist and lifted her up into his mouth again, the taste of him dizzying her wildly, the half-hardness of his crotch pressing into her stomach. Then he was hurriedly bringing her back to earth, grinning at her as the door swung open and they broke apart to Erik’s judging gaze, his mouth pursed at them in their breathless state, his expression one of hidden delight masked by facetious scandal.

“Heeeeeeaven, I’m in heaven,” he sang, fluttering his eyelashes--they were very long with pink rhinestones today. “Just look at you two. As soon as you mentioned Morgan I knew she’d do both of you justice, Mackenzie. I can already see the headlines tomorrow: ‘DUCKENZIE STUNS IN GOLD, WE ALL HAVE TO WIPE OURSELVES OFF THE FLOOR’. Duncan, I brought Hannah and Georgio today. You remember them--they did you for the App release party. They’re going to lose their shit over her.” He extended his hand, beckoning to them languidly, moving back inside the penthouse, the long black cashmere poncho he wore drifting behind him. Duncan’s warm, large hand was on the skin just above the back of the dress, and Kenzie stepped away from his touch, feeling too overwhelmed by it to let it continue for now--I want you terribly, my love. I want you alone.

In the kitchen there was an array of picturesque snacks from the always well-stocked silver fridge and cupboards spread out; round rice crackers and two bricks of artisan swiss and gouda, salami rolled around tiny toothpicks, cubed mango, sliced green apple, bunches of grapes, organic hummus and pesto, bite-sized chopped purple cauliflower and celery sticks, and multiple open bottles of wine.

“We had to get the party started the right way, of course,” Erik simpered to Duncan, and Duncan smiled at him (that smile, kiss me, baby), unbothered, then at the two people seated at the obsidian island with recognition. Kenzie suddenly felt wildly shy again, fighting the urge to hide behind him, but he was pushing bright, warm blue feelings against her, circling her heart. “Hey, Hannah.” Hannah had very long, vaguely wavy hair that was a sort of lavender-grey, the kind of color that could only be achieved by a master hairstylist, one that usually only existed in superhero comics, and chopped bangs. She was ambiguously aged, perhaps in her early 30’s, with bright pink eyeshadow and an expertly contoured, round face. She wore a very long boho bronze-red jumpsuit with curling indigo detailing, and an array of long necklaces with varying crystals. Her skin was the color of milky coffee. The man beside her had long chocolatey hair streaked with natural gray, tied back into a bun at the back of his head, sharp, dark eyes, and an beard that was so well-cropped it seemed almost fake. He had silver rings on his fingers in the shapes of animal skulls, and wore a black denim jacket and black skinny jeans on his very thin frame. He had been talking to the woman in a very quiet, even voice, but she had begun to laugh loudly at something he said. “Hi Georgio, lovely to see you both again. This is Mackenzie Stone.”

“Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe Duckenzie are finally here!” The woman called Hannah immediately stopped laughing, dropping the morsel of gouda she’d been clutching in long coral-colored fingernails. Kenzie gawked at her. God, the Duckenzie thing is a trip. The woman got up from Duncan’s island and came around to her, her hands flitting down to Kenzie’s shoulders--she was at least six inches taller, and in bare feet. She smells really nice, like patchouli incense.

“God, you’re a little jewel,” and Hannah was pulling her into a hug, much to Kenzie’s surprise. “You smell like a rose bush. It’s obscene.”

“Hannah, I fucking told you,” Erik said. “Imagine the possibilities. An absolute babydoll.”

“Georgio,” the other man came up to her, grasping her fingers, leaning over them. “A pleasure to finally meet you in person, dear.” His voice remained very quiet and very even, removed from Hannah’s immediate enthusiasm.

“I do hair, Georgio does makeup,” Hannah was saying down to her. “This dress, Jesus fucking Christ, you’re like a Klimt painting, and Duncan, god, you always look incredible but this is next-level, nobody will be able to talk about anything else tomorrow, fuck, Georgio, we have to really outdo ourselves with this one.”

“I fucking agree.” Georgio was looking between Duncan and Kenzie with a hungry glint in his eye, as though he were a vulture about to swoop down onto a carcass. Kenzie shivered a little--I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way some people look at us when we’re together, she thought. It’s as though some people want to leave us candles and fruit and gold coins on an altar, and other people want to somehow consume us--rip out our hearts and gnaw on them with their teeth. Hannah is one of the former. This man Georgio is one of the latter. She watched his hungry, dark eyes float up and down on Duncan, and she was made conscious again, removed from her lover’s touch for the moment, of how incredibly beautiful Duncan was, how singularly, objectively handsome.

Back off honey, he’s mine. Kenzie couldn’t help it, she snorted into her hand suddenly at the force of her thought, the certainty of it, and Hannah looked down at her, puzzled.

“I was just thinking about how crazy all of this has been,” Kenzie murmured.

“I bet, honey. Your Instagrams are like the only thing anyone talks about anymore. You must have gotten like, a hundred endorsement offers by now.”

Duncan shrugged at her. “I don’t think we’ll be doing stuff like that, Hannah. Kenzie’s a writer.”

“I forgot, you’re a fucking billionaire,” Hannah rolled her eyes at him. “No pressing need to make more money.” I like this woman, Kenzie thought. We can be friends. “Little golden peach, come sit with me, I’m wild to start on you.” Hannah led Kenzie to the living room, where they’d set up two styling chairs with portable standing mirrors.  

“Dunny, bring me some of those grapes, please? I’m fucking starving.” Kenzie called across to him. Duncan was watching her with a dazed expression, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Georgio continued watching him with the same hungry eyes. Duncan went to the island as Erik said something to him that Kenzie couldn’t hear--she was turning back to Hannah, who already had two flat pastel-colored styling clips in her fingers. Kenzie sat, looking up at the woman, angling her chin up.

“What do you think your hair should look like tonight, baby doll?”

Kenzie smiled at her. I really like her.

“Sometimes he calls me Persephone,” she said to Hannah in a low voice, as if she were telling the gray-haired woman a secret. Hannah was leaning down to her, listening eagerly. The woman seemed to have an almost rosy aura around her, like the pink blush of a desert sunrise.

“Goddess of spring,” Hannah nodded. “Which would make him Hades, God of the Underworld. That seems right to me. And you brought your flowers down to him in the darkness, didn’t you, sweetness.” Hannah’s hand brushed through the wave of hair that fell over Kenzie’s shoulder. “I think we should put flowers in your hair. And then everyone will see who you really are. Not just your gold, but the way love is blooming all around you.”

Duncan was coming over to them with a bunch of grapes and some of the cheese and round crackers on a little plate and one of his Waterford glasses full of a dry rose, leaning the plate down to Kenzie’s lap, dipping his face to kiss her (thanks baby, she whispered into his mind) as he handed her the wine, then he straightened and said “I’m putting on some music for us, any requests?”

“Something sexy,” Erik said, holding up his wine glass, full of dark red. “I need some mood music to look at you two.”

Duncan smirked at him and turned away, into his study.

“Hannah, have you seen The Youth of Bacchus?” Kenzie spoke to the woman from a mouth of grapes. “It’s in Duncan’s study there, it’s so amazing, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I just wanted to die the first time I saw it.”

“I saw it the last time I was here, we styled Duncan for an event a few months ago,” Hannah had already busily begun to slide clips into Kenzie’s long tawny hair, clearly used to working around people eating. “It’s really extraordinary. I can’t imagine how crazy everything has been for you lately, honey.”

“It’s--” Hannah was dividing her hair into segments now with a thin comb, turning to a set of portable drawers near the standing mirror. “It’s been so surreal, honestly. It feels like I’ve been walking around in a dream for the past few weeks. But most people have been so lovely.”

“I bet Annette’s a fucking handful.” Kenzie heard a funky electronic beat come over the hidden speakers as Hannah’s quick hands worked at her hair, spraying primer through it, brushing it out. I ain’t got no money, I’m not like those other guys you hang around, it’s kinda funny, but they always seem to let you down…

“Yes.” Kenzie didn’t even try to hide her frustration. “Yes, she fucking is.”

Hannah snorted, grinning at her as Duncan reemerged from the study.

“Yes, honey, yes indeed,” Erik was saying to him as Duncan sat in the other styling chair beside Kenzie, Georgio immediately attacking his stubbled cheeks with moisturizer, then primer. “Prince’s self-titled is his most underrated creation, I do believe. Pure sex from beginning to end.”

“Erik, I hope this isn’t too great for a favor for someone as important as you, but could you bring me the wine glass I left over there?” Duncan glanced up at Erik with a long, languid gaze, and Kenzie giggled. Laying it on thick, baby. I like to watch you do that, she realized. Because I know you’re always mine now, and all they can do is pine after you.

Erik gave him a pleased look and brought the wine to him. “Anything for Prince Duncan,” he cooed. I feel the same way, and Kenzie’s thought flashed to his eyes staring at her in the MIrror as he fucked her, her arms tied in velvet ribbon, flashed to his mouth between her legs with her arms tied to the headboard with his belt, to her back against the cherrywood table as he kneeled to her, her body arching into his elegant, strong fingers in the dark, the white-blue glow of his eyes. Anything for you, beloved. Anything.

“I’m gonna need fresh rosebuds for Kenzie’s hair, Duncan,” Hannah said, glancing at him.

Duncan made a little sound of longing in the back of his throat that made Kenzie’s stomach flip. Oh my fucking god, baby, I’ll get you roses to wear in your hair every day. And your peonies are starting to wilt, too. Kenzie glanced at the coffee table, noticing with a twinge of sadness that he was right. Prince wailed over their heads as Duncan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sent a few quick text messages to Anchaly for the concierge. “Hannah, what do you need?” I wanna be your lover, I wanna be the only one that makes you come, running...Georgio’s hand was on his cheek as though it were made of delicate glass, holding Duncan’s head steady as he worked around his blue eyes with a tiny eyeshadow brush.

Hannah reached for his phone with an insistent hand and typed out a text, handing it back to him. “As young as they have would be best. And the darkest red. Fit for a queen.”

“Roses for Kenzie’s hair, roses for Kenzie, check.” Duncan glanced over at her, his eyes (the sky of you, the storm of you building for me) falling from hers down her gown, then back up. His tongue slowly came out to lick against his top lip, and the gesture seemed to be involuntary, so open to her, so desirous of her, as he sometimes was in the sanctity of their bed. Our bed, our room, my favorite place on earth now when you’re there, she could hear him, knew his thoughts drifted into the same place hers did, needy with the weight of their nights.

“Georgio, did you hear what Mackenzie told me a minute ago? Duncan calls her Persephone sometimes. Hence the roses.”

“Way ahead of you, Hannah,” Georgio said, then, “Close your eyes, please, Duncan,” and Kenzie watched him swirl the brush in a palette behind him, then begin to darken Duncan’s eyelids to deep black. My Hades. Gold in the darkness. It’s not just me, baby. It’s us together. My gold kisses your darkness, your darkness holds my gold. One without the other is not enough. One without the other is not whole.

“God, I love it,” Hannah was murmuring as she began to whirl Kenzie’s hair around a ceramic curling iron, from its soft natural waves into more carefully constructed ones. She began to switch between curling strands of Kenzie’s chestnut-blonde hair and weaving a very loose french braid down Kenzie’s back, until her hair seemed to be a very intricate web of falling braids and artfully arranged loose waves, though Kenzie couldn’t see it from the back yet. Duncan’s already luminously handsome face was now darkly striking in the shadow around his eyes, the gold of the jacket juxtaposing with the black and the blue of his corneas to an effect that took Kenzie’s breath away. God of riches, shadows, and my heart.

“God, baby, you look so good. So fucking good.”

“I agree,” Hannah was grinning between them, still fussing over Kenzie’s hair. At the back she’d created a slight bump and long waves fell around Kenzie’s face. The doorbell chimed through the penthouse and Erik went to the door from where he’d been lazily eating apple slices and downing glass after glass of wine. A delivery man stood there with a long white box--Erik took it from him and brought it over to the low leather couch, lifting the lid. Within were a dozen sprigs of burgundy-dark rose buds, and a bouquet of a two-dozen full-stem roses in the same color.

“Oh sugar, I wish a billionaire who looks like an angel would buy me flowers every day,” Erik said longingly. 

“Gimme, please,” Kenzie begged, reaching her arms out. Erik brought them to her from where Hannah was holding her captive, and Kenzie lifted the bouquet to her face in their softness, feeling tears welling up. “Dunny, I love them so much.” Duncan was smiling at her with a dreamy expression around his darkly shadowed eyes. We’ll take them with us to the cabin. We’ll put them beside our bed. I love you, Kenzie.

I love you, too, Duncan. I’ll save so many wildflowers while we’re there to hang over our bed here. We’ll bring the roses with us, and bring the forest back with us, Kenzie’s eyes rested in his, her hand stretching out to him, almost involuntarily. Duncan stood and came to her, Georgio having finished his work, leaning against the standing mirror, observing with a sharp, dark gaze. Duncn crouched down beside her chair, bringing his face up to press his nose into the roses she held, then up to her cheek and against her lips, and Kenzie’s body tingled with the softness and sweetness of him, the darkly beautiful dramatic cast of his face in the eyeshadow. He drew back from her, eyes lifting up to the others behind her--neither of them had realized for the beat of the moments that Erik, Hannah and Georgio were all staring at the two of them with observant, rapt expressions, Hannah’s almost pious, Erik’s joyous, Georgio’s openly desirous. The first side of Prince had ended, and the quiet had settled around them.

“God, you two are lovely,” Hannah breathed, breaking the spell. “I could watch you all day. I’ve never seen a couple so beautiful. It’s like you’re communicating without words.”

At that moment the downstairs buzzer beside the penthouse door trilled, making Kenzie jump. We are, Hannah. But no one knows that but us. And we want to keep it that way. It belongs to us. Duncan stepped away from Kenzie, clutching her hand for a moment. I bet that’s Annette, Kenzie thought, biting into her lip. Annette’s text had been strange, a frantic tone underneath her overly-polite request to see Kenzie. Please accept this gift as a token of my blessing, she’d said, and Kenzie had known Annette distress was coming solely from Duncan’s silence to her, but nevertheless, the prospect of actually gaining Annette’s approval by any means was tempting, especially since she’d softened to Kenzie at the Rose Garden. Duncan went to the door, hitting a button below the panel and speaking into it.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Shepherd, Annette is here.”

Duncan looked over at Kenzie, a pained expression immediately falling over his face. Baby, it’s okay, Kenzie thought to him. I’ll go downstairs. I won’t take long. I’m not afraid of her.

“Anchaly, Kenzie’s coming down,” he said, turning back to the speaker. “Do not send up her up.”

“Very well, Mr. Shepherd.” Anchaly’s voice sounded strained.

Kenzie rose, carefully tucking the cascade of the gold train over her arm, setting the roses in her seat gently. “Hannah, Georgio, I won’t be long, this should only take a few minutes.” Be brave, for him, even if you don’t feel it, because Duncan needs you to be. She walked carefully past Erik, who was giving her a dark look, a don’t let her fuck with you look, to Duncan, whose eyes were clouded behind the dark eyeshadow, suddenly lost inside the turmoil of his emotions.

“Baby, look at me,” she whispered to him, reaching for his hands. As she grasped them Kenzie could feel that he was shaking; feel the immediate change in his mood, the dark shadow that had settled on him, the one that had made him cry in her arms yesterday, the one that had sent his sadness out to her over miles. “We’re going to get through tonight, then we’re going to go away together, just me and you. Okay? And you won’t have to see her, okay? Not until you’re ready. Forget about everyone else.” And Kenzie, in that moment, resolved to do the same herself. Forget about them. About the paps, about Annette’s judgement, about the eyes watching us now, and anyone else who will try to hurt us tonight. When I have you, I’m fearless, invincible, you are my armor of blue flames, I am your armor of weightless gold. And they can’t hurt us.

Duncan brought his mouth down to her, and his lips trembled too, though with the tumult of his emotions or his desire she couldn’t decipher, so jumbled were the two strains of feeling in him. Kenzie gently brought her hand up to his hair and his arms came around her back, lifting her into him, and Kenzie couldn’t help but hear the sighs that came from Erik and Hannah behind her, the sighs that sounded to her like the wings of angels rustling in some holy silent hall, and she soothed him with paper-thin gold, feeling his heart settling down to a steadier rhythm, feeling the trembling in him drift out, into the ether.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, and let go of him, staring at him for another moment, seeing the way her energy had calmed him, his eyes bright again amid the gold-and-dark sheen of his shape, and Kenzie snapped the door open and walked, determined, to the elevator.

-------

Annette was standing in the foyer when Kenzie arrived downstairs, her expression strained and softly troubled, the usual anger in her eyes towards Kenzie missing. She was nervously fidgeting with something in her hands--a squarish, flat velvet box. 

As Kenzie’s eyes drifted over Duncan’s mother, she was struck by the other woman yet again: Annette’s coppery-dark hair was pulled back in an elegantly distressed bun, a few strands arranged artfully around her slender cheekbones, her naturally beautiful face made more exquisite with soft makeup tones, a roseate sheen on her cheeks and mouth, a pale olive around her eyes, reminding Kenzie of the blossoms and vines of some pink flower in bloom, of a cheek pressed against a garden wall. Annette’s dress was flowing saffron-colored satin, falling to the ground and shrouding her feet, long sleeves to her wrists (she was wearing one ring, a gold band on her left index finger with a round, yellow-colored topaz stone), a deep V exposing the dip between her small breasts, a string of tiny, perfectly-shaped (and likely priceless) iridescent pearls around her slender throat. As Kenzie stepped closer she could see there were small golden flowers falling throughout the dress, like bursts of pollen reflected in a sunrise. Annette turned her head down for a moment, her eyes closing, and Kenzie noticed there were pearls stranded through her hair as well. She is so beautiful. This woman who adopted Duncan so many years ago. Where did she find him? Who did she claim him from? Who is this woman really, this woman who has kept the truth of him from him for his entire life? I can see her loveliness that has been hidden beneath her shadow, like I could see his right away. It took longer to see hers. But I’ve begun to see it. But her shadow is strong. It’s consumed her for many years.

Anchaly had, somehow, blessedly, vacated the front desk, and Jerry was standing outside the glass doors in the balmy summer night, smoking a cigarette, staring down at his phone. There was no one else in the foyer, and no sound except soft classical music pumping from the speakers, the gold-embossed chairs and couch, lush persian rugs and expensive potted plants their only company.

“Annette,” Kenzie said, reaching her, remaining a few steps away. Annette was looking at her with a pained expression now--an expression Kenzie had never seen. Now that she was closer, she could see there were lines under Annette’s eyes, of tiredness and distress. I don’t think she slept at all last night, Kenzie realized. Because of Duncan. Because she knows how devastated he is.

“Oh, Mackenzie.” Kenzie’s nerves shattered as she saw the tears in Annette’s eyes, saw the girl within Duncan’s mother again, and was moved by her. “You...you are so lovely. I--I’m--”

Annette trailed off, raising the box in her hands out to Kenzie. She seemed to steel something within herself for a moment, force her tears back, force them back into the secret place where Annette Shepherd had been storing pain for decades, and her eyes fluttered closed again, then opened to Kenzie’s--Kenzie felt for a moment that she could almost see her own eyes reflected there, see the green and russet and the gold of herself, see how Annette could see her in this moment. Like an effigy of the Holy Mother, Annette was thinking, and it shook Kenzie to the core of her body to know that. But before she was a mother--when she was young and wild, and free, and the most beloved of all in the eyes of God. There is no wonder that he loves her. My Duncan. My darling boy. I’m sorry.

“I found this a few days ago while I was going through some of the remainders of Adelaide’s--my mother’s--possessions,” and Annette now used the voice of her outward self again, even, carefully measured. “I knew when I saw it that it was meant to be yours. I’d be--I’d--if you would accept it, Mackenzie...I’d be grateful.” Annette closed her mouth, as if by the action she could close off the tide of her emotions rising again with it. Kenzie stepped closer, watching Annette’s eyes rove up and down the exquisite gold of her dress, into her eyes, skirting away. She reached her hands out and Duncan’s mother (for she is Duncan’s mother after all--she loves him with her life, and she didn’t tell him because she couldn’t bear the thought that he isn’t hers, because she loves him as strongly as if he is--her love is true and blinding for him) lowered the box carefully into them, and their hands touched, and Kenzie looked up at her again, then opened it.  

Within was a circlet band of braided gold, its strands leading down to a matte red ruby surrounded by an oval of almost two dozen tiny, perfect diamonds. On either side of the oval were three gold leaves, each set with two diamonds each. I can’t imagine how much this is worth, Kenzie thought, her breath trapped in her lungs. This must be priceless.

“I--I can’t--” Kenzie struggled to speak. How can I accept this?

“Please, Mackenzie. I’ve been--I know I’ve been--” Annette seemed to be losing the strands of her composure, her hands fidgeting in front of her, clutching at the pearls around her neck. “I know I’ve been terrible to you. I have no right to ask you for anything. But please, Duncan--Duncan won’t speak to me, and I--”

Be the golden goddess Duncan sees in you, Kenzie. Be fearless and kind.

“He needs time.”

Kenzie evened her gaze on Annette; lowered the necklace in its velvet box in her hands, but brought it closer to her body, accepting. She lifted her chin.

“He’s very hurt. Keeping the truth from him for so long--it’s wounded him deeply. And I don’t know how long he’s going to need. But I know he needs time.” Kenzie watched Annette’s face, the subtle shift of the pain there. “After tonight, we’re going away for awhile--maybe a few days, maybe a week. And when we get back, I think he’ll be ready to talk to you. But until then, I don’t think he wants to. I don’t think he can. Annette, I will accept this from you...if you can accept that.”

Annette’s lip trembled, almost imperceptibly, and she seemed on the edge of tears again. She dipped her head, eyes closing again, the lengthening afternoon light spilling across her face--despite everything, Kenzie thought, I love her still.

“Please tell him I’m--how sorry I am.  And that I love him. More than anything. More than my own life. And I--I love you also, Mackenzie. I do. I’m sorry to you, too.”

Annette reached out one shaking hand, pressing it gently to the side of Kenzie’s arm, her other hand coming up to hover near Kenzie’s cheek--but that hand continue to hover rather than touch, as if afraid. Then Annette turned without another word, and left the foyer. Jerry held the door out for her, and Kenzie could see a Mercedes parked on the curb, the tall, imposing form of Becket coming out to open the door of the car for her, and Annette slipped inside, and the car drove away.

I guess it’s a good thing Georgio didn’t do my makeup yet, Kenzie thought. Tears, hot and aching and bitter, coursed down her cheeks as she stepped toward the elevator, and they continued to fall all the way back up to the penthouse, the velvet box clutched in her trembling fingers.

------

She immediately saw the pall that fell over Duncan’s face as she came back into the penthouse--strains of Beethoven played quietly now, Duncan’s cheerful mood clearly affected by Annette’s arrival. He knew she’d been crying. He was sitting in the styling chair again, Hannah pressing product through his waves of dark-copper hair, and he launched himself from her fingers as Kenzie closed the door with one hand, the box clutched in the other, running up to her, clutching her against him. Kenzie closed her eyes, immediately soothed in the enveloping weight of his embrace--there’s nothing else on earth as wonderful as this, baby, as wonderful as being held by you. This is the only thing.

“Baby, what happened? What did she do?” Duncan pulled her away, turning her chin up to him, his hand drifting back to cradle around her ear, his eyes full of clouded anger at Annette’s perceived ills.

“She just--she’s sorry. She loves you. She wants to talk to you. I told her we’re going away for a few days. I told her you’re not ready to talk to her yet but--but maybe you will be when we get back. And she gave me this.” Kenzie felt more tears fall down her cheeks as she lifted the box up to him. Duncan took it with fingers that were shaking again--his eyes roved over the necklace with recognition as he opened the box.

“This was Adelaide’s, wasn’t it,” he whispered. “I remember it. I would touch it when she pulled me into her lap when I was little. I wanted to eat the ruby, you know--how you want to eat everything when you’re little--” and Kenzie knew the steady stream of words was to keep himself from crying, from becoming overwhelmed.

“Shhhh, baby,” she soothed. “Will you help me put it on?”

Duncan quieted and nodded to her, his eyes glittering (like sapphire). He lifted the necklace from the velvet box, setting the latter aside on the island, and Kenzie turned, lifting her chin so he could clasp it around her neck--his fingers were warm, almost hot, and her eyes fluttered open and closed at the feeling of them brushing against her (your touch is heaven to me, heaven) and then he gripped at her shoulders, his mouth coming down to kiss her ear, turning her easily, her weight nothing in his arms, and his gaze fell over her neck and his lips drifted open, his eyes opening and closing (nebulas), and Kenzie could see a kind of peace fall over him, as if she and Adelaide were somehow able to meet now, after all.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, and she nodded, her chin turned up to him. “Adelaide would have loved for you to have it.”

Kenzie felt desperate to be close to him, desperate for him to hold her, suddenly, in a dark place where no eyes could reach them, where they could be naked and taste each other with abandon, with only the moon to see. My One. I want to comfort you in the privacy of our room so very much. She pulled his face down to hers carefully, pressing her forehead to his, and pushed golden waves down into him, pushed with all her strength, all her love, all her longing, and she felt his body relax against hers, like a sigh, though he was silent. She closed her eyes, knowing his were closed too, knowing they could see each other without needing to look--she could see the blue waves of him melting behind the darkness of her lids, could see the iridescent gold she had given him. All good things come in time. We just have to get through tonight. Then we’ll be able to comfort each other, my love. Comfort each other for days. He nodded against her skin, and Kenzie knew he heard.

They broke apart, and she looked over to Hannah, Erik and Georgio, watching her and Duncan with mouths agape again, not speaking to each other. She made eye contact with Erik, who drank off the rest of the wine in his glass, giving her a good-natured eyeroll.

“You two make me wanna get drunk,” he said, waving a hand toward them. “I’m raging with jealousy and arousal.” Kenzie noticed someone had put her roses in another of Duncan’s gold vases in the center of the kitchen island, and she looked at them gratefully.

“Mackenzie, come sit, we have a lot to do still,” Hannah said, tapping the styling chair, and Kenzie glanced back at Duncan (baby, come sit with me, please?) and he nodded to her, going back to the kitchen island and pouring himself another glass of wine as Kenzie sat before Hannah and Georgio, who both attacked her with new gusto--Hannah began to rapidly pin the rosebuds through the back of her hair, while Georgio began to rub different substances into her face with cool hands, his eyes intent on her, making her immediately shy.

“Where did you two meet, anyway?” Hannah asked, using a slender, long pair of blunt tweezers to pull the buds into the braids and strands she’d created at the back of Kenzie’s head.

Kenzie was quiet for a moment, glancing at Duncan who was bringing another glass of wine around to her, nestling it gently into her hand.

“It was a Republican party for PAC donors.”

He gave Kenzie a mischievous smirk, then settled into the chair beside her, but not before dragging it closer to her, veering around Georgio and Hannah with abandon, dipping his long legs under her gold platform heels and propping her feet up under him, his hand coming around to her knee. Kenzie knew he was craving her touch desperately--she could feel the need coming off him toward her, the ache in him for the comfort only her touch brought him (only you, his thoughts were whirling in circles, just you, your hands, your skin, you, I need you and they’ll have to deal with it) and she wanted to press her hand against his throat and taste him with her eager mouth, straddle him and tease him until he was begging for her, and she pressed her hand down onto his, sending the tendrils of these thoughts to him as he spoke again to Hannah, glancing at her with burning eyes.

“She was undercover, recording tidbits of juicy conversation for her article--of course, I didn’t know that until later. Not that I think it would have mattered to me. I was wishing I was literally anywhere else, out on the balcony, hiding from everyone, and she appeared. I thought I’d been knocked into a dream. She was wearing this tiny black velvet dress and these golden sandals that tied up her ankle, and had this necklace, and her hair--”

“Ugh, Duncan, stop--”

“Duncan, do not stop,” Hannah grinned at her, soothing her hands against Kenzie’s temples to hold her head still as Kenzie jerked it towards Duncan, then resumed rapidly dipping the tweezers through the back of her hair. Kenzie could see her face through the mirror, how Georgio was applying dark russet liner to her brows, and a heavy black eyeliner to her upper lids, giving her gaze a high drama.

“Hannah, I would have done literally anything to get her to go home with me. I mean--fucking anything.”

“And all you had to do was buy me a drink. I’m a cheap date,” Kenzie smiled up at Hannah, who laughed a little.

“I can imagine it didn’t take much convincing for either of you,” she said, stepping back from Kenzie’s hair to examine her handiwork. “You’re both--well. At the risk of embarrassing myself by using an antiquated standard, separately, you’re both 10s. Together? Fuck. The scale is fucking broken. Most people would claw each other’s eyes out if it meant they got to stand in your orbit, and I’m not one for flattery. Miss Mackenzie Stone, I do believe you’re ready for the Gala.”

Georgio had stepped back at well, in his silent, appraising way, a round brush still in his hand from applying light, rosy matte blush to Kenzie’s cheeks. He’d made her lips dark red, not quite as burgundy as the roses in her hair, but a deep claret that made her mouth look like a ripe fruit. Kenzie couldn’t stop herself; her breath caught as she gazed at herself, the dramatic angle the light threw on her face, the ruby and diamonds glittering right in the dip of her throat, the gold shimmer of her dress wrapped around her like a second skin.

“Turn around, baby, look,” Duncan urged her, his hand softly drifting against hers, Hannah bringing a little handheld mirror down into her hands to see the back of her hair, which was now a breathtaking array of dancing burgundy red buds, falling in a drifting, wild cascade from the artful arrangement Hannah had created.

“God, you really do look like a painting,” Hannah breathed and Erik was standing back in a pose of admiration, another glass of wine dangling at the end of one arm. He laughed in delight.

“Forget everyone else, darlings, I’ll be following you two around all night.”

Duncan groaned. “Please, no. I want her all to myself.” His hand was drifting up from her thigh to where she had turned towards the study to see her back in the mirror, his fingers falling against the buds, and his thoughts were dark red too, dark red with need for her, and Kenzie could feel the fall of them, almost see herself in his gaze for a moment, feel the pulse of his arousal, the memory in him of the feeling of her clit on his tongue, the ache in him to taste her again, his body shivering to remember the sensitive cavity between her legs, the tightness of her ass--Kenzie tried to swallow, tried to breathe, felt her heart pounding insanely at his touch and the intensity of his need against her in this moment, turning from the mirror to look into his burning gaze, and Hannah and Georgio seemed to somehow sense that their time together was ending; Georgio was gathering his makeup with clipped order, Hannah wrapping the curling iron up, tossing pins into the drawers. Erik was languidly pressing a finger to his phone, calling a private Uber.

“I want you so much,” Duncan had dipped his head to her, his mouth shivering against her ear, kissing down under it as he quieted, as if he deigned to think it rather than speak it aloud, as if he wanted to speak it, needed to, had to or he’d scream instead, and his hands were at her waist, feeling with insistent strength, damning the others, ignoring them. Kenzie’s skin tingled with flushed, radiant heat, her thoughts hazy, suddenly, the cool gold of the necklace pressing into her throat and making her cunt twinge, Duncan’s drifting hands making it twinge again, making her breath catch and burst out in a gasp. Make them go away, baby, she thought, and said aloud to Hannah and Georgio, turning away from him, “Thank you so much--both of you--I can’t say how wonderful--”

“Miss Mackenzie Stone, it was my honor,” Hannah said, her smile lit with warmth that shattered into Kenzie’s heart like an arrow. This woman has a beautiful soul. It gave her as much joy to do this for us as I have now to see the masterpiece she’s created for me. “Hoo boy. I think I’m a Duckenzie now too. Better sign up on that website. Did you two see that? Duckenzie Fans, or whatever it’s called?”

Duncan was laughing, nodding a little, dipping his chin down against the palm of his hand, crooked on his knee, his other hand still on Kenzie’s thigh. “Yeah. It’s something. We met the girls who run it, they can’t be out of high school yet. Kenzie was so lovely to them, it was all over the tabloids. She’s so lovely to people. Makes it easy for me to just stand there and say nothing.”

He was smiling at Kenzie again, his hand drifting, his fingers tightening on her, his thoughts clashing through her like the warm rain that had soaked them a few days ago--I wanna be alone with you now baby love, goddess from heaven, I wanna press that plug into you and whisper into your skin all the things I’m going to do to you later, I want you to force that ring onto me and fuck I’m already getting hard for you, my cock is already aching for you, angel--

Georgio was giving them a glittering look again, that wanton desire still blatant.

“If you two ever wanna think outside the box, I have this group I meet with sometimes in Prince William Forest,” he said evenly.

What the fuck does that mean, Kenzie balked. Like an orgy?

Yes, Kenz, that’s what he means. Duncan had half-rolled his eyes at Georgio’s statement, his thumb drifting soothingly over Kenzie’s knuckles.

“I don’t think so, Georgio, thank you.”

“Suit yourselves. You’d certainly be the center of attention.”

“No, thanks, Georgio.”

Erik was pressing a hand into Georgio’s black-clad back, smiling down at him serenely, batting his eyelashes, ushering the thin man towards the door. Hannah dipped down to Kenzie and hugged her around the neck, gently, careful not to muss the flowers in her hair.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” she whispered into Kenzie’s ear. “I hope to see you again sometime, Miss Stone.”

“Call me Kenzie, please?”

“Kenzie. It was an absolute delight. I can’t wait to see your photos literally everywhere tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Hannah,” Kenzie grasped the gray-haired woman’s hand and steadied her mind, whisking her psyche away from Duncan--and pressed gold tendrils down into Hannah, morsels of light, drifts of her good will. She watched a serene, doleful expression come into Hannah’s brown eyes, then she let go, and Hannah drifted away from her, still staring at her for a long moment. Erik was pushing Georgio out the door, and called out behind him, “I’ll see you in an hour or so, darlings, I can’t wait to meet the infamous Madeline Stone!” Hannah hesitated for the span of a few seconds, she and Kenzie still staring at each other across the room, pulling her portable drawers behind her on the little wheels attached to the bottom.

Hannah, bright blessings to you. Today, and for the days to come, for you.

Kenzie watched the other woman’s face, watched what seemed to be the glitter of a tear on her cheek--then Hannah waved a little to both of them, and pulled the big black door to the penthouse shut as she left.

Suddenly, the penthouse was quiet, and it was only the two of them. The light had begun to fade--it was almost 7 now, and night was beginning to fall. Kenzie glanced over at the Bouguereau prints on the wall, feeling Duncan’s eyes on her, feeling the blue of his thoughts kissing against her mind. The evening mood, she thought, and turned to him again.

Yes, my Kenzie. The evening mood is here. Come to the bedroom with me. He was standing, gently twining his fingers into hers, grasping onto her train and bringing it over his arm with supine grace, the melted gold of his jacket glowing in the twilight that had suddenly surrounded them. The energy inside her was humming now, building to a kind of frenzied rhythm, and Kenzie could see the full moon beginning to rise as they passed the picture window, see its corn-yellow face from last night had not faded, rather sharpened into a bewitching visage, like a sleeping maiden in a field of night-lit grasses.

“I feel like a princess,” she whispered to him as they entered the bedroom, and Duncan was closing the door behind them, closing it to the world--and then he was pressing against her, pressing her into their Mirror with an aching softness that made her mind leap into a static of feeling, thoughts bleeding out into nothing but his mouth on hers, nothing but his hands on the gold braid at her neck, then his fingers along her collarbones, then clutching at her shoulders, the smooth gold cups at her breasts.

“You are a princess,” he was whispering between their kisses, and Kenzie fought to breathe, “you’re my fucking Princess, you’re my fucking Goddess, you’re mine, aren’t you, my angel on earth, you’ll give yourself to me, baby, won’t you--”

“Fuck, yes, you know I will, baby,” she moaned into him, the tips of his hot fingers refusing to press more harshly into her, his blue gaze heavy-lidded, looking down on her from the dark shadow around them now, waiting teasingly for her answer. “Fuck, get my plug for me, please, baby--”

“Shhh, Kenzie, go get your coconut oil, okay?”

“Uh huh,” she murmured, and turned away from him, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up, flush with goosebumps. Kenzie pressed a hand between her breasts as she stepped carefully to the bathroom, serenely quiet and spotlessly clean, feeling her heart racing--she could see her jar of coconut oil on the edge of the sink, and took it with trembling hands. She tried to imagine telling Kenzie from a year ago about this night--you’ll be going to a Gala attended by the richest people in DC, and you’ll look like an angel, and your boyfriend is Duncan Shepherd, and he’s going to push your plug into your ass beforehand and you’re going to make him wear a cock ring and you’re going to edge each other to death all night and then, hopefully, you’re going to fuck each other into tomorrow morning, Kenzie, and you can hear each other’s thoughts, see the depth of his love for you like the swirling center of a fire--

Kenzie swallowed, stared at herself in the darkened mirror of the bathroom for a moment, almost not recognizing herself for a moment--I really do look like a goddess, she thought. I really fucking do. Be that fearless goddess tonight, Kenzie Lou. Just pretend she is you. For tonight, you are her. You’re a goddess.

Kenzie brought the oil out in hands she willed not to shake, and Duncan was standing by the Mirror, looking at himself curiously, appraisingly, the ring clutched in one hand, her plug in the other. He turned to her, and his smile melted her heart into sweet butter.

“Me first,” she whispered. “I want you to do me first, baby.”

Duncan’s eyes darkened (your storm, my sweet god of shadows) and beckoned to her with one elegantly crooked finger.

“Come here, angel.” Whatever Hannah had done to his hair, she’d made it so his beautiful curls were now even more striking than usual, the fall of them seeming impossible to her eyes in this light, their loveliness ethereal, and she saw him as inhuman again for a moment as she fell into his arms--saw him as as a god made of stars and ink-dark sky. You are the god to my goddess tonight, aren’t you, and their mouths came together in another aching kiss, his tongue brushing down into her, and then he was turning her to face the Mirror, turning her so his stomach pressed insistently into her back. He pressed the cock ring into her fingers, taking the oil away, and she gripped its smooth silicone surface, her heart bursting. Give me all your need, baby, make me feel it, remind me that I belong to you. He opened the oil, dipping his fingers into it, eyes focused on her--Kenzie could see her mouth hung open, her breath coming out in ragged bursts, her face glowing with the lovely makeup--I am going to be so gentle with you, baby, but you won’t get to come yet and no one will know your ache for me, no one will know your secret tonight but me, his eyes said, and then he was dipping the plug into it too, and Kenzie’s cunt and ass twinged sharply, and she sucked her breath in, unable to stop the whimper of the moan that fell out of her. But you’ll be thinking of it all night, as I’ll be thinking of my ache for you.

“Please,” she said, and pressed her hands against the Mirror, leaning just a little, ever so little, to give herself to him. Duncan leaned to set the oil on the dark wood--then, he carefully pressed the hem of Kenzie’s golden dress up with a twisting motion, so it fell up and over her hips, exposing the black lace of the panties she wore underneath the opulent gown. Kenzie could feel the damp, cool pressure of his finger tips at the line of her panties now, and with another quick motion Duncan pulled them down so they hovered around her thighs above her knees--he leaned down over her so his face came up beside her ear, and Kenzie cried out to him as she felt his fingers dip into her ass, first his index, then his middle finger beside it, stretching her.

“Kenzie, babydoll,” he whispered into her ear, and Kenzie leaned back, her mind needy, into his fingers, longing for him to press against her clit, knowing with anguished disappointment that he wouldn’t, not yet, not now. “My sweet baby, my angel of roses. Mine. You can’t take this out until I say you can. Promise me you won’t.”

Kenzie felt his fingers leave her and she was desperate for the loss--”Unng, baby, please, I won’t, I promise I won’t--” she whined, biting into her lip, unafraid in this moment with him, unafraid to show him the desperation of her want for him. “Please put it inside me.”

She sighed with relief as his hand came around her throat, gripping so his fingers pressed possessive divots into her skin, then a long, keening cry melted out of her and his fingers tightened at her neck as she felt the plug’s bulbous head, slick with oil, rest for a long, terrible second against the pucker of her ass, then slide with aching pressure and his strong insistence inside her, guided by his pliant fingers. His hand lingered, fingers pressing around the dip of her ass below where the plug was now snugly tethered, as if to ensure that it was tightly in place, and Kenzie was gasping, gasping at the terrible twinging need of her cunt, the throbbing of her clit, aching to be touched by him there, aching for him alone to give her release, her hands still pressed into the Mirror, his dark-shadowed eyes piercing her with their expectant lust. O Hades, my Hades, kiss me, then let me cage you, and in your cage, think only of me, your Queen of Roses, caged for you by your hand.

“My turn, baby,” he whispered, and crouched down to pull her panties back up snugly to her waist, his fingers drifting over her hips, cupping her ass cheeks, then carefully pulling her golden gown back over her legs, using the hand that hadn’t probed into her--he’s so careful, Kenzie thought, I know how much you want me in this moment, and yet still you’re so careful, so neat, afraid to ruin my gown, my Prince. As Kenzie shifted she could feel the twinge of the plug’s weight against the sensitive cavity of her ass, and she felt her knees buckle for a moment, her thighs tingling, her neck longing for the press of his hand again. Want it there always, my Prince, my sweet Hades, your scent like the wild wood of night. She pulled him down to her mouth, laving her tongue out into him, and Duncan moaned with piteous need, and Kenzie felt the long tendriled gold of her need reach out for him in turn, demanding.

“Put your hands at your sides, baby. You’re not allowed to move them.”

Duncan immediately did as she said, his eyes smoldering in the darkening bedroom, his mouth open to her, his thoughts afire with her. God, baby, I am fucking dying for you, you’re so fucking beautiful, not touching you is like torture, I’m yours, I beg you, please, touch me, baby.

You are truly the most beautiful boy I have ever seen, Kenzie thought. And you are fucking mine. You’re mine, baby. Your beautiful cock belongs to me.

“I know this is going to make you ache terribly tonight,” Kenzie said, evening her tone just above a whisper. “But you have to be good. You can’t touch yourself, you can’t take it off.” She knelt very slowly in the opulent gown, her back to the Mirror now, dipping her head so he could see the way she was prostrate for him, her head looking up at him, the cascade of her rosebud-brindled hair arrayed for him in its loveliness. Duncan closed his eyes, and she felt how overcome he was, how lost in the sight of her, and it thrilled her--that’s fucking right, Prince Duncan, your Persephone kneels before you now, and you will promise her you will allay your pleasure until she has need of it, and Kenzie could see the dip of his crotch had grown in the low light--she lifted her hands up and undid the button at his groin carefully, unzipping his pants, pulling down the waistband of his body-tight briefs to bring one of her slender hands against the bottom of the shaft of his growing cock, pulling it out decisively, and Duncan’s breath hitched, his head falling back, his adam’s apple bobbing in the light, making Kenzie want to pull him down to her so she could press her mouth against him there. She focused, instead, on his thick length, the veins of his sex suddenly beautiful to her, the head of his cock a roundness that she longed to dip into her mouth, a sliding droplet of precum glittering there. Instead, Kenzie lifted her hand away--Duncan moaned, dejected with the loss of her, and she could see his hands shaking at his sides--then she picked up the ring from where she’d carefully laid it by her knee, dipping her fingertips into the oil, slathering them along the circular interior of the toy.

Then, Kenzie dipped one of her hands into the oil again, and quickly brought it up, before Duncan could prepare himself, to the low hardness of his cock--she slathered the oil along him from head to base and Kenzie watched with satisfaction, feeling the plug pressing into her from her spread thighs where she knelt to him, as his mouth dipped open again and his shoulders shuddered minutely at her touch. Kenzie didn’t wait again--she gripped the ring and carefully, but with deep, concentrated insistence, pushed it onto his cock to the base, watching with a burst of intense heat into the bottom of her belly how it twinged with redness, immediately constricted.

“Ung, Kenzie, fuck me, holy fuck,” Duncan murmured, his hands drifting dangerously close to the ring, to his length, his eyes furiously bright, and Kenzie shook her head.

“No, baby. You can’t. Only I can take it off.”

“Fuck, baby, angel, I can’t--”

Kenzie stood, grasping his cock again, making him shudder and cry out, his throat convulsing, and she pushed him back down into the tight briefs he wore, zipping the closely tailored slacks and buttoning them, her fingers hooking over the waistline, my tall Prince, her face hovering at his heart, her dark red lips falling against the melting gold and velvet of his jacket to kiss it. The heat that fell away from him over her was blinding--he seemed to be burning, the blue flame of him almost visible to her naked eyes.

“You can, Dunny. It’s for me. My plug is so tight, baby, when I sit down it’s going to make me fucking writhe for you--” and Duncan went to grasp her but Kenzie said “wash your hands first, baby,” and he stepped back, nodding, turning as Kenzie followed him to the bathroom--she dipped her hands into the sink with his, the soap mingling between them, the Cartier bracelets falling down their wrists and clinking together, Duncan’s face leaning close to her hair, and Kenzie knew he was breathing her scent in. She reached for the hand towel and dipped her hands into it, then Duncan’s hands were pulling it insistently away, gripping her hips and pushing her into the wall, knowing it was okay, knowing he had her permission to hold her, now that both of them were carefully, insistently claimed by the other, both driven to the edge of their desire and now, with terrible need, held there for an undetermined amount of time, and knowing that to touch each other for a moment, a few moments, would be the only relief for hours. His lips fell against hers, her arms dipping up to reach for him, but he grasped her wrists and forced them against the wall, holding her there.

“I’m in fucking agony, baby,” he murmured, and Kenzie shivered, delighted by the strength coiled in his fingers, the strain in his voice. She struggled a little, facetiously, against his grip, and he tightened it as she giggled.

“Good,” she whispered, and she felt the burst of heat fall onto her from him at that. Duncan bit his lip, his eyes falling down her face to the tailored shape of the dress against her breasts, the dip of her throat with the gold braid, diamonds, and the ruby, the diamonds on her wrist she couldn’t take off unless he unlocked it.

“I wanna fucking fuck you, Kenzie.”

“You will, baby. Later. We have a Gala to go to.”

“I don’t fucking care about the Gala.”

“I know. But we have to.”

Duncan whined into her neck, and Kenzie turned her head, the better to feel his lips on her there, turning her head up, lifting her thigh up so it pressed into his crotch, and Duncan groaned, the sound bleeding into a strangled, tiny sob in the back of his throat. His grip loosened on her wrists, enough for her to release one of them, and Kenzie slipped out of his grasp, bringing her hand around to press into his darkly stubbled cheek, smooth with the dusting of concealer Georgio had put there. Not that he needs it. His skin is already so smooth and beautiful.

Kenzie tapped his cheek with an insistent little snap. “Bad boy is gonna fuck me so good later, aren’t you. My Prince is gonna fucking fuck my brains out.”

“Uh huh. I fucking am. I wanna do it right fucking now--”

She brought her hand up and let it come down again, this time with a more insistent little tap into his cheekbone. Duncan’s breath hitched.

“Kenzie, do it again. Harder. Tell me to calm the fuck down. I’m too hard and I can’t think straight. Fuck, baby, please. Slap me.”

Kenzie nodded and brought her hand up, Duncan still clutching her other wrist to the wall--she made sure her palm was very flat this time, and brought it down with a swift snap. This time Duncan’s face pitched to the side and his eyes fluttered closed with the low pain of it, and he stepped back from her, releasing her other wrist. Kenzie brought her hands around him, steadying him at the waist, and he blew out a low breath, eyes earthwards.

“Let’s go to this fucking party, baby,” Kenzie whispered. “I wanna show them how fucking beautiful we are.”

Duncan lifted his eyes, and the wildfire in them stopped her heart again.

“I’m ready, my Queen of Roses.” And Kenzie grinned, bouncing up against him in her platform heels, shaking out her rose-laden hair, leading her dark prince out of their rooms, his hand gripping her train possessively. Kenzie snatched up the little golden clutch Morgan had made for her, and pulled him, between insistent, coaxing kisses, out of the penthouse and into the elevator. Kenzie was absolutely struck by their reflection now, highlighted by brighter lights of the elevator’s interior--Duncan was pulling his phone out of his pocket. We have to, he thought, and Kenzie nodded. Time to show everyone.

Kenzie pressed against him, clutching her hand to his lapels under her chin, turning her head so the roses in her hair were visible in the mirror, her dress pressed to the side, partially enveloped and hidden by Duncan’s dark arm around her waist, but the back of the golden train shimmering in the light. Duncan’s darkly-shadowed eyes glanced into the reflection, his expression defiant and knowing, the dripping gold of his jacket striking, the golden, intricate tips at his collar scintillating under his sharp jawline, the fall of his hair just-so. He lifted his phone, capturing the reflection, bringing it down for her appraisal. Kenzie nodded, looking up at him. Yes, baby. Good. So fucking good.

She watched as he typed a caption. Hades and Persephone ascend to Earth for a party. #weheardyoulikeus #andifyoudontohwell #duckenziesayshiworld

Kenzie giggled and nodded. “Fuck yes, baby.” He continued to hold her against him as he posted the photo, his hand drifting against her shoulder as he bit his lip, squinting at his phone in concentration in the bright light. I love him. I love how earnest he is in our quiet moments together like this.

“Baby, send it to me okay? I want it.”

Duncan nodded into her cheek as the elevator door dinged open to the foyer, and Kenzie could feel the vague pressure of the silicone ring pressing into her hip from where he leaned his crotch against her. His hand drifted down, quickly brushing over her ass, down to the curve above her thighs, where he knew the plug was--Kenzie let out a little cry and slid away from him, hot lines of want coursing down through her belly at his touch, trying to straighten her expression when she saw Anchaly had returned to his desk. Duncan followed behind her, eyes burning on her, his hand still possessively grasping her train in his fist.

“I see you’ve come down to bless the mortals, Mr. Shepherd, Miss Stone,” Anchaly grinned. He had a new book, The New Adam and Eve, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Whatever strain he’d felt over Annette’s visit was now gone from his face, and his eyes were glittering at them again, his posture immediately leaning towards them, as if drawn by a lure. “I’m stunned, Miss Mackenzie, your hair, like the garden of Eden.”

Kenzie twirled for him, smiling at him coyly. Anchaly laughed, delighted, gazing raptly. The way people look at us now, she thought to Duncan. It’s a little bit spooky.

I agree, but who wouldn’t look at you that way, angel.

“Have a wonderful evening. I have no doubt you will, how could you not? As blessed as you are.”

Kenzie watched Duncan’s eyes turn on Anchaly, his dawning expression of recognition.

“Anchaly, we truly are blessed. I’m blessed. I’m grateful. To whatever’s out there. The Fates or...destiny. God. The gods. I’m grateful.” Duncan’s hand went to his hair, slid down his chin, rubbing there, thumb drifting to his lip. Kenzie stepped to him and grasped his hand, felt the immediate cooling contentment of his mind at her touch. Anchaly said nothing, merely continued to look at them admiringly.

“I’m sure your gratitude has not gone unnoticed, Mr. Shepherd. It’s apparent in you now. The change in you is breathtaking. You will do great work together. I can see it like a clear path stretching out ahead. Enjoy yourselves and be happy.”

Kenzie smiled. The smile seemed to extend through all of her body, down to her toes, through the tips of her fingers, into the skin of her cheeks and coursing through the back of her mind and her neck to her spine, shaking through the ends of her hair. She pushed the gold tendrils through herself; I’m so happy I could fucking die, she thought, and she felt the tendrils extend out of her in that moment, stronger than they’d ever been before except in the dream where she’d made the fire grow, and she felt them touch Duncan with deep, abiding strength, and brush against Anchaly with affection, and they both looked at her with expressions that reminded her of effigies in a church, faces turned with fervent eyes--and Duncan’s filled her with conciliation, with the knowledge that with his eyes on her this way, she was truly seen, that he saw beyond the flowers in her hair, the blush on her cheeks, the darkness at her lips, to the secret soul she had long hidden, the one that belonged to him because he had promised to love it with abandon.

Duncan seemed to surface from the vision she had pressed around them; he turned to Anchaly and thanked him, and then he pulled Kenzie out the door (Jerry said nothing, merely beamed at them and stared, his eyes wide) to where Samuel waited, and a sweet summer wind was blowing, cool and soft, and it smelled like long grass and the sun-kissed residue of day, it smelled like the full moon that hovered above them, a scent like small flowers in shadows and the heady musk of damp earth and, wildly, the aching crash of the sea, Kenzie’s eyes glancing to its perfect roundness--it seemed impossibly huge tonight, the sun kissing Her, pressed into an ardent embrace; it’s for us, she thought wildly, stopping Duncan breathlessly, bringing him against her under it, his arms lifting her into his mouth achingly, his tall body so right as it enveloped hers utterly, Kenzie, I’ll love you until the end of time, he was thinking, I’ll love you until time means nothing, and it was as if she could feel the moonlight holding them, feel it pressing soft, cool hands into their hair, smiling on them with serene affection, hoping for their love to find its secret holding place later tonight, urging them to the time when they’d be alone again, tangled in the sheets of the black bed, irrevocably entwined, like Her, held by the Sun, now a part of Her, the source of her light, and Her his most beloved. Duncan, I love you so much the words in my heart have not yet been written in any language. The gold of me is all for you. And the moon saw them, and knew it to be true.

---------

It was five before 8 when Madeline slid carefully into the front seat beside Samuel, who was playing Billie Holiday (I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you) quietly. Momby was wearing one of her gold scarves draped over her shoulders with a brocade Calvin Klein dress, as promised, and she had a lovely rose-gold pin clasping the scarf against her--it was in the shape of a rose, and Kenzie puzzled at it.

“Oh Kenzie Lou, you look beautiful,” her Momby breathed, and Kenzie was reaching her hand through the partition, her emotions bubbling up, threatening to overflow. Her mother’s hand was warm and comforting, deeply familiar. “You too, Duncan. I mean, really. Fucking beautiful.”

Duncan was smiling at her through the window. “Thank you, Madeline. So do you.”

“Momby, where did you get that pin? I’ve never seen it before.”

“I had other admirers besides your father when I was young, baby,” was all Madeline said, turning to glance at Samuel. “Why hello, most delightful specimen on God’s green earth.”

Samuel laughed at her, his very white teeth shining out of his mouth in the shadows and dim neon lights of the car’s interior. “Miss Madeline, to see you again is truly a blessing to me. And may I say, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Go on, go on,” Madeline took her hand out of Kenzie’s and pressed it to Samuel’s arm. Kenzie balked. Momby. Kenzie pulled her phone out, sending Clairebear a quick text, remembering.

Good luck on your date with Harris tonight!!!! I love you so much. We couldn’t help it, we jumped the gun and posted a picture on Instagram, but here it is again. She attached the photo Duncan had taken of them in the elevator to the text, hit Send, then typed again.

Clairebear, thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know who I would be without you. I’m so emotional tonight, it’s like my body is on fire. Duncan and I are going away for a few days after this, his family has a cabin by Deep Creek Lake, it’s a few hours away. He found out he’s adopted and no one ever told him until now, so it’s been really difficult for him. I don’t know how the phone service is out there, and I’ll still have my phone, but I think we’re going to try to go off the grid a little bit.

She hit Send, then typed again, Duncan’s hand drifting to her leg. “I’m texting Claire,” she murmured to him, and he nodded, his eyes closed, his mouth in her hair, blue waves tenderly brushing against her body.

Duncan and I have been having some really strange experiences with each other lately. It’s hard to describe. Strange dreams and other things that should just be impossible. I’ll tell you more about it when we get back. I think we need to figure out what it means and I feel really strongly that if we go off to the woods we’ll find the thing we’re looking for. Not sure why, but that’s what it feels like. When we get back, I think we’ll know more about all of it.

Claire, I love you forever.

They were already pulling up to the Shepherd mansion’s gate, and the moment, the reality of the Gala, which had seemed so far away, had finally arrived. Kenzie slipped her phone back into her clutch, turning to gaze out the window--around the gate were at least two hundred people, some non-credentialed press, some clearly fans. Kenzie noticed with a jolt of recognition that Lindy and Gabby were among them--Gabby was holding a sign that said DUCKENZIE WE LOVE YOU STOP AND BE FRIENDLY, her curly red hair shimmering in the street lamps that lined the tall, impenetrable white fence that stretched around the property. Kenzie grinned--referencing one of my favorite movies is a good way to get my attention, she thought, and leaned to Samuel.

“Samuel, stop here for a minute,” and Duncan balked, trying to grab her hand.

“No, Kenzie, Harris isn’t here--”

“It’s okay, baby, I promise. It’s okay.” She looked steadily into his eyes. I can do this. Watch me.

Kenzie pressed the door open and stepped out onto the curb, and immediately a swarm of press gathered around her--Duncan was getting out of the car behind her, his expression deeply creased with concern. Kenzie took a deep breath and pushed outward--for a moment her body tingled wildly, her mind compressing and her head feeling impossibly heavy, pushing her chin down--and then the air around her seemed to calm, the summer wind that had been blowing seemed to stop, and the frantic shouting of the press around her lowered as if someone had turned a dial on stereo, their pressing dispersing, like leaves scattering, caught in a tiny tornado that spread them back. There, that’s better, she thought, and reached for Duncan’s hand. His expression was stunned now, gazing at her in bewildered wonder, and Kenzie smiled at him earnestly. I told you, Dunny, it’s okay. Come on.

She stepped up to Gabby and Lindy, who hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual, somehow; they were hopping excitedly, squealing and reaching out to her.

“Kenzie, Kenzie, we made you something!” Lindy held out a large squarish object that turned out to be a handmade scrapbook full of fan messages--Kenzie held it gently and nodded. “You look like a goddess tonight,” Lindy said, then unceremoniously the small girl burst into tears.

“Oh, Lindy, it’s okay--don’t cry,” Kenzie was pulling the girl against her gently, and Gabby was biting her lip, clearly hovering near tears as well. “Thank you so much, Duncan and I looked at the website, it’s absolutely beautiful. You two definitely have a career in web design. Maybe we can hire you for Shepherd Unlimited someday.” Gabby rocked back on her heels (both girls were wearing long flowery dresses, and their earnest loveliness pressed on Kenzie’s heart), her eyes fluttering in disbelief. “Oh, Kenzie, really? Thank you so much for looking at it, we’ve been working so hard, so, so hard.” Kenzie let go of Lindy, opening her clutch and handing the girl a tissue from it.

“Girls, we have to go, but it was so nice to see you again,” Duncan murmured to them, taking the scrapbook from Kenzie’s hands, grasping her with tight fingers. Kenzie quickly leaned and kissed Lindy’s tear-stained cheek, then Gabby’s, blushing and hot, pushing gold tendrils into them, watching Lindy’s face calm and soften. There. No more tears, sweet. I see you. She gave them both a little wave as she stepped back, then turned to the other people gathered around them, gazing at Kenzie and her interactions with the two girls with awed expressions. Suddenly the night was strangely quiet; the moon looked down on the scene, and everyone stared at Kenzie, a hush falling over the hubbub of the crowd.

“Next time,” she said, nodding, turning to the press, and then Duncan pulled her insistently back into the car, Samuel whipping the BMW around to the open gate, where several security guards were keeping the fans and other press back, ushering cars through to the mansion entrance. Kenzie heard the sounds of the crowd resume as the car drove on; that was really strange.

“Kenzie, why in the world would you do that?” Madeline was scolding her, looking back at her with an exasperated expression. “Your bodyguard is off duty and Duncan went as white as a sheet. He still is, look.”

“It’s important to be to be kind to people, Momby,” was all Kenzie said. Duncan didn’t say anything, putting the scrapbook from the girls down at his feet, still holding her hand tightly. Kenzie could see that he was a little pale under the dark eyeshadow, but his thoughts were even now. I know why you did it, baby. I love how brave you are, even if I’m not. Even when you do--whatever it is you do. I’m still afraid for your safety, my sweet Kenzie.

I know, baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry if I scared you. I just feel like I--I really feel like I need to be kind to those girls. Like I WANT to be kind to them. They can see our love and they’re moved by it. I want them to know we see them, too, and how earnest they are. How lovely.

Samuel had made it to the entrance, which Kenzie could see was heralded tonight with huge banners running from the edge of the sidewalk to the entrance, the doors thrown wide tonight to expose the opulent foyer of Annette Shepherd’s mansion. Some of the banners had the Shepherd Unlimited logo (an SU in white Verdana script with cobalt blue fleur de lis on either side) and opulent, swirling gold text on a black background that read 4TH ANNUAL SHEPHERD FREEDOM FOUNDATION GALA: GOLD IN THE DARKNESS and in smaller script The Juxtaposition of Light and Shadow in the Pre-Raphaelite Movement. Between the script banners were picture banners printed stunningly with major Pre-Raphaelite works: Kenzie could make out Rossetti’s Venus Verticordia, Cowper’s Vanity, and Evelyn de Morgan’s The Field of the Slain, alongside others obscured from her seat. The glowing feeling she’d felt with Gabby and Lindy faded out into nervous excitement now, and she felt her throat clench, her hands going cold as blood rushed to her head. She shifted, feeling the press of the plug inside her, sending sharp pricks of intensity up her spine and through her thighs. Duncan clutched her hand more tightly, and she knew he was thinking about the clenching weight of the ring at his cock, could feel the intensity of his desire for her, like lightning bolts of needling sensation, infiltrating the corners of her mind. Hang in there, baby, and she turned to him, smiling nervously, his eyes intent on her as he bit his lip. We have a long way to go.

“Earth to Kenzie and Duncan,” Madeline called into the backseat, her voice impatient. “Your mother is fucking starving!”

Kenzie glanced out the window again--between the rows of banners on either side of the entranceway was a lush black carpet, stretching into the mansion and beyond her eyesight. There were at least a hundred people milling around on it now--the press was confined to the sidelines by gold ropes, photographers to a stretch around the middle of the walkway, a black backdrop visible with the Shepherd logo and various sponsor logos printed along it. Kenzie recognized several Senators and Congresspeople, as well as the Mayor and Vice President Usher, and also recognized several well-known celebrities with a little burst of shyness--get it together Kenz, you’re a celebrity now too, in your own right.

You’re the most important person here, she heard Duncan’s thought to her. I mean it, Kenz.You are. Don’t fucking worry about any of them. Tonight, this is for you. It’s about you. They’re going to see. Kenzie felt a rush of nerves, an aching affection for him, full of gratitude and desire and love, and she quickly dipped her mouth up to his and brought her hand to his hair, then she pulled away before he could deepen it--and pushed the door open, stepping out onto the carpet.

Kenzie’s eyes widened as the collective eyes of the press and photo pools drifted over to the BMW--as one, they seemed to shift all their energy and attention onto her and her alone, giving her the acute feeling of a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. Duncan was exiting behind her, and then a short-haired valet hurrying up to them, a flushed look on his face, pulling the front passenger’s open for Madeline, who gave him an appraising stare over her glasses as Kenzie felt the eyes of the guests now turning onto them as well--she locked eyes with Mark Usher for a moment, her blood going cold, and his expression was indecipherable to her, but Kenzie knew he knew who she was, which made her feel as though someone had usurped her body and put a mask on it. The Vice President can’t possibly know me, little ol’ Mackenzie Stone. How the fuck? Life makes no fucking sense anymore.

“Darlings, please, distract them from me,” Madeline turned her head to Duncan, who was holding his hand reassuringly at the small of Kenzie’s back as she stood stock-still, frozen and trapped in her thoughts. “I need to get to the refreshment table post-haste. Kiss or something.”

“You know I’m going to kiss her, Madeline,” Duncan smiled. “As often as possible and as long as she’ll let me.”

“That’s my boy.”

Madeline set out ahead of them before Kenzie could stop her, pausing to made a snide comment to a woman with platinum blonde hair and a monstrous dress that seemed to be made of the tinselly tassels of cheerleader pompoms in gold and white towards the front of the press area. The woman’s face pinched into a mask of dislike at Kenzie’s mother, and Kenzie fought the urge to laugh.

“Who’s that?” She whispered to Duncan, unable to look away from the horrible dress the woman wore. Kenzie felt acutely that she recognized her from somewhere, but couldn’t decipher where.

“It’s Gretchen Friedrichs,” Duncan answered in a dark tone. “She has a popular conservative web series called Patriot Watch. And she’s absolutely awful. I hope Madeline just told her to fuck off into a black hole. She’s going to try to talk to you. Ignore her.”

Duncan twined his fingers through Kenzie’s, his other hand coming down to her train to drape it over his arm, and he stepped forward, pulling her gently. Time to go, sweet Kenzie. You look as beautiful as a falling star. I know how brave you are. This is nothing for you. A piece of cake. They were nearing the press pool, the whole of which had turned their attention utterly on Kenzie and Duncan, making the hairs on Kenzie’s arms rise with the intensity of their stares. The energy was suddenly dense, suffocating, almost savage, and it made Kenzie want to turn and run back to the BMW--but the BMW wasn’t there anymore, Samuel had driven away. Too late, Kenz, you’re in it now. Kenzie glanced at Duncan, feeling her heart clench, feeling as though there was water in her ears, blocking her hearing, and she felt horribly dizzy for a moment. He’s so beautiful, all in gold and black, as beautiful as the evening, as divine as an angel with dark wings, Prince Duncan from high in his opulent tower, and who am I, but little Mackenzie Stone, tripping over her own feet, crying over every little thing, with her shitty little apartment and her shitty little tchotkes, her shitty little plants and her little goofy button face--

Kenzie. Remember when you had the nightmare? Breathe like that. Just breathe, baby. I love you more than anything on this earth. You know how extraordinary you are--but I’ll tell you again. You’ve felt it when our minds come together this way--you’ve felt it in our bed, how you’ve made me needy for you beyond all desire I’ve ever experienced, and you’ve felt it in the way you can bring comfort to others just by willing it into them. Mackenzie Stone. You are not a little of anything. You are a gold ocean of impossible depth. Now breathe. I love you. Show them. Duncan’s eyes were twin pools of sapphiric water--they knew her, and saw her, and accepted her utterly, worshipped her, and she knew it.

Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, and breathed out through her mouth. Then she went up to Gary Spencer and Sissy Conners, past Gretchen Friedrichs who shouted “Mackenzie, Mackenzie, does this mean you’re a Republican now?” and smiled at them--and when she smiled, rather than pressing the gold outward, Kenzie swirled it, stirred it, in the pit of her body, stirred it high into herself, and moved it through her mind. Mackenzie. You truly are that brave person Duncan believes you to be. Think of everything that’s happened. This is really nothing. You’re together. You are the sceptre, he is the sword. Eternal and unshaking.

The last of the thought came unbidden, a jarring, nonsensical certainty that she didn’t understand, and Kenzie blinked, moving it away from herself, refocusing on the high, heady boldness she could feel building in herself now. She shifted, resurfacing to reality, feeling the plug pressing into her again, pressing hot fingers into the sensitivity of her muscles and senses. Our secret, baby, here among all these people.

“Mackenzie, how are you feeling tonight?” Sissy was holding a microphone out to her, her smile too wide and too white, her dress a blinding, extremely tight bodycon in dark gold snakeskin. “You look absolutely exquisite, an absolute vision, I know you mentioned yesterday that Morgan Winthrop designed your look for tonight, but what’s the concept here, beyond the theme?”

“I’m the concept,” Kenzie was tilting her head down, batting her eyelashes slowly, giving her best Kenzie-wants-something-from-Momby look--one she’d perfected over a lifetime--aware the camera on Ricky’s shoulder behind them was zeroed on her. She glanced to the side--Duncan was saying something to Gretchen in a low voice, still clutching the end of Kenzie’s train, his expression dark. Gretchen looked like she’d swallowed something sour, and Kenzie looked back at the BPF reporters, a satisfied twinge floating through her mind. “Duncan was inspired by me. By our relationship. We both love mythology and we’re drawn to the myth of Hades and Persephone, so we kind of went with something along those lines, but--I feel wonderful, I can’t wait to see the set-up inside, I just love the banners already. I know everyone’s been working so hard. I love the romanticism of all of it, and I’m so happy Duncan and I are finally getting a chance to step out publically together, so, yeah--I’m just really happy to be here. And to show off Morgan’s extraordinary talents.” She grinned at Sissy, who was gaping at her with surprise. Duncan finally appeared at her elbow; he’d set her train down behind them, and Kenzie turned her head over her shoulder to glance down at it, fanning like a gold river over a black landscape, then turned her face up to him, her smile still wide. I fucking love you, baby. She grasped his hand and Sissy switched the microphone to Duncan now, her expression one of wonder, speaking rapidly.

“Duncan, wow--the look. The eyeshadow, the gold jacket, the collar--you two are just so incredibly beautiful together, there’s now an internet shorthand for your relationship, “Duckenzie”, which I’m sure you’re both aware of, I’ve heard you have a fan club now and your Instagrams are the most popular on the internet lately--I saw you already posted a shot of your looks for tonight and it’s racked up a quarter of a million likes already--is there anything you would say to your fans around the world? They seem to be growing by the hour, and tonight is sure to bring you more.”

“We think everyone is wonderful,” Kenzie said, and turned to Duncan, drifting gold against him. Everyone can see, baby. I feel it. He nodded, smiling down at her, his dark look shivering against her heart again, his thumb pressing into her palm, suggestive, hidden. “And good things are coming,” he said.

“Duncan, can you elaborate on that?” Gary said, his eyes switching back and forth between them, puzzled, rapt.

“It’ll be clearer in time,” Kenzie said to him, staring at him steadily for a long moment. Gary seemed utterly shaken by them; Kenzie could see sweat had broken out on his brow, and he looked away from her after a moment, nervously. “Thanks, Sissy, Gary. Thanks.”

“Have...a wonderful time.”

Sissy’s voice suddenly seemed tiny, far different from the boisterous tone she usually used. Kenzie could see the confusion in the other woman’s eyes--as if she’d seen something she couldn’t explain, something that had shaken her to the core. It’s us, Kenzie knew. Sissy saw us for a moment. Not me and Duncan, not really--she saw those other selves. The ones we see in our dreams sometimes. The ones that cannot be described in words. She saw us, just the tiniest bit, reflected from us like a mirror held up to another time and place. She felt us. Kenzie pulled Duncan away from the press pool, and to the black backdrop, turning towards where fifty photographers crouched on specially designed pews--their flashes immediately blinded her, made her suck her breath in, their voices rising in a cacophony so she could barely decipher one from the next.

“You got this, baby,” Duncan was whispering down into her ear, his hand snaking around her waist again. “Duncan! Mackenzie! Over here! Mackenzie, you look gorgeous! Mackenzie! You look beautiful Mackenzie! Duncan, this way, thank you! We love you, over here! You’re so lovely together! Duckenzie, look this way! Thank you! Duckenzie forever!” And Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh, dipping her head to showcase the dark rosebuds in her hair, Duncan turning his face down to her temple, his smile making her laugh again as he clutched her against him, their Cartier bracelets visibly crossed at their wrists for the onlookers, the shattering rhythm of the cameras rising higher, frenzied to capture the moment between them, the voices of the photographers clashing again and again against each other, and Kenzie felt absolutely drunk to be in his arms this way, suddenly forgetting the dozens of cameras facing them, feeling the pressure of the hidden ring at his groin pressing against the dip of her abdomen, making her shudder in his arms with tiny, almost imperceptible tension, and she could hear a kind of rising sigh from the photographers, a murmuring admiration that seemed to be making Duncan flushed, seemed to be kindling his boldness--he turned his face down to her, opening his mouth just so, kissing her in a rapturous, fluid movement that caused an audible gasp from the rows of cameras, a collective exclamation of gratification that elated her.

His lips bruised against her for a tender, tiny eon--Kenzie lost herself against him for the span of it, her eyes closing to the intensity of the camera flashes, the sound of the shouting mob floating away from her ears, her mind drifting to them alone in their bed in the blessed darkness, his strong, elegant hands tying her to the chain with velvet ribbon, that first kiss, that night on the balcony covered in roses, god, my life changing forever in your arms in an instant, beloved, the unbearable softness with which he’d first touched her, his hands falling to the sides of her face, the urgency of his mouth then, the venerate devotion in his mouth now--and then Duncan was breaking away from her, as if remembering himself, remembering that they were caught in the gaze of at least two hundred people in this moment, and they resurfaced to reality, both of them trembling against each other, longing for the moment where Kenzie knew, and could feel that Duncan knew, they could finally be alone. Alone together, the only thing I ever want now, ever.

There was another audible, collective sigh from the photographers as Duncan gently pulled Kenzie beyond the backdrop--this one of disappointment at the moment ending, Kenzie knew, frustration that they were leaving. They adore us, Kenzie thought. And she knew it was absolutely true; knew it, without ego or pretense, as she knew the full moon was hanging over them, watching the night unfold. They see it too.

Duncan was pulling her away from the frenzied press of the carpet--Kenzie could now see that almost everyone around them was watching them, but everyone seemed to be afraid to speak to them, eyes flitting over Duncan’s dripping-gold jacket, the striking shadow around his eyes, over the fall of her hair and the Cartier diamonds at her throat and on her wrist, falling down the shimmering gold of her bodice and the gentle dip of the sleeves, the train drifting behind her. No one dared to tread on her--Kenzie recognized a very famous actor, watched him carefully avoid the train, his eyes roving up over her form hungrily, and she met his gaze with a tiny smile. He looked away, sheepishly, blushing. I suppose one doesn’t dare mess with the Shepherds, generally speaking. Not for the first time, and she suspected, not the last, Kenzie remembered that Duncan was part of a very, very wealthy family, and that likely, he would soon be the inheritor of that immense wealth.

And then we’ll change the world, baby.

Kenzie gazed raptly at the foyer as Duncan helped her up the steps and through the double-doors, looping her hand into the crook of his arm, pressing her fingers into the muscles there, feeling him clench them at her touch. More baby, touch me more. There were dozens more of the banners here, Hughes’ Ophelia, Burne-Jones’ The Golden Stairs, but the angels of Waterhouse’s St. Cecilia caught her eye immediately--their sweet faces calm and reticent, watching the saint in her slumber, their innocence and sincerity clamoring into her heart. They look like Gabby and Lindy, Kenzie thought, remembering Lindy’s tears. My two little angels. Duncan looked back at her, noticing the emotion in her. She shook her head a little.

“It’s all just so beautiful, Dunny,” she whispered, and he was nodding to her, the dark beauty of him in the chandeliers moving her further still, moving her beyond words again. He brought his arm around her to drift down her back, pulling her beside the staircase, out of the way of the people around them, sliding his fingers down to the beginning of the incline of her ass, and she drifted back from him, shaking her head. No, baby, don’t. It’s too much. There are too many people. You need to be patient. She saw the terrible longing floating behind his eyes, saw the blue flames licking around her from him, and she smiled. Poor, poor baby. Is that ring making you ache and ache for me?

Yes, Kenzie, fuck. So fucking much. It’s almost unbearable. I feel like I’m about to pass out.

My poor, sweet baby. Kenzie went back to him, letting him grip her under her bare arms with his hot fingers, letting him press his mouth against her cheek, onlookers be damned. Let them look. Annette was nowhere to be seen here--Kenzie’s eyes skirted across the room as Duncan continued to kiss down to her ear, pressing into her. She must be in the room beyond. I don’t know how we’re going to avoid her, but we’re going to.

“We should probably find Momby, make sure she hasn’t fallen into a fondue fountain somewhere.”

“God, I just want you alone,” Duncan’s mouth was shivering into the dip of her ear, bringing the delicate hairs at the back of her neck up, his hands drifting at the smooth gold under her breasts. “I just want you all to myself, angel.” Kenzie could see people staring at them, eyes hungry; god, I don’t know who a lot of these people are, but they look fucking important.

“Shhh, really baby, we should find Momby, okay? Please?”

At that moment Kenzie’s eyes zeroed on a figure making a determined beeline for them from the other side of the foyer--Duncan was still pressing his mouth into her ear, sucking and biting there with urgency, his whispers having quieted to now drift secretly in her mind, and he hadn’t noticed the figure yet. It was a woman, and she was petite, like Kenzie, and beautiful, with wide, long-lashed eyes, full lips and a button nose, but rail-thin, her chin jutting towards them as though she were being pulled by an invisible force. She had long, artfully styled platinum hair, falling over her shoulder in expertly arranged waves, and her dress was a sculptured black bodice decorated with intricate gold embroidery, accentuating her minute waist, which fell into a voluptuous cascade of black tulle that seemed to buoy her across the room. At her throat was a huge yellow diamond, so large Kenzie wondered for a moment how she was holding her head up. Her fists were clenched at her sides as if she were bitterly angry, but a wide smile was plastered across her face, exposing all her teeth (like a crocodile, Kenzie thought). Her dark eyes were staring, eerily unblinking, at the back of Duncan’s head, and at Kenzie.

Marissa Montague.

“Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, trying to pull back from him, but he continued to kiss at her, lost for a moment, “Duncan, it’s--”

“Duncan Shepherd! Duncan, oh my god, I’ve been so busy lately, it’s been so hard to call you!” Marissa had reached them, and her voice pitched high, dipping towards uneven, though her smile remained plastered on her face, stretching her cheeks to what looked like an almost painful degree to Kenzie. Duncan stopped kissing Kenzie’s neck, but his mouth still hovered close to her, his arms still clutched tightly around her. Kenzie looked over his shoulder into Marissa’s eyes; she could see the coiled snake that rested behind them, the wanton need, now that Marissa was this close. But not for Duncan, not really, Kenzie knew. What she wants is attention--fame, attention everlasting from the multitude, and to be showered in riches, but her thirst for them is insatiable. There’s a hole inside her that gnaws with hungry teeth, and it has never had its fill, not once. So she searches for more food for it.

Duncan turned his head slowly to look at Marissa, and Kenzie saw the cast of a dark storm inside his eyes, felt the blue flame of him, shimmering, flare up with discomfort. Oh, no FUCKING way, she heard his thought, and slid her fingers down his arm, soothing him with her touch. It doesn’t matter, baby, I’m here. We’re together. Let them try to get between us. Let her try. Let anyone.

“Why would you be calling me anyway, Marissa?” Duncan was gazing at her evenly, still holding Kenzie close, his hand drifting in her hair, over the rosebuds. Kenzie could feel the wave of anger in him, feel the drifting measure of dislike. She’s lovely on the outside, Kenzie thought, but inside there is something gone, like it was ripped out of her and only the ragged void remains, a void she longs to fill but cannot. Poor Marissa. She instantly felt empathy for the other woman, seeing her so closely, felt embarrassed for her, as if Marissa were suddenly naked. As lovely as the actress was, Kenzie could immediately see how deeply discontent she was, how full of voracious need.

“Well, we never really finished what we started, now did we?” Marissa stepped forward, the smile that had been plastered faltering a little, her eyes skirting to Kenzie with annoyance, her hand snatching out, attempting to grasp his velvety arm. Duncan stepped out of her reach, pulling Kenzie to the side with him, his mouth curling up ever-so-slightly.

“And we never will. Marissa, this is my girlfriend--my partner--Mackenzie Stone. I’m sure you’ve read about her. Kenzie, this is Marissa Montague.”

“Of course,” and Kenzie forced herself to smile politely, bringing out a hand, Duncan’s cheek pressing against her hair, refusing to let go of her or let Marissa near him. “It’s lovely to meet you.” Marissa ignored the hand, crossing her arms now, barking out a little laugh.

“Partner,” she mimicked. “Since when have you ever had a partner, Duncan? We all know your reputation. You used to bring a different fuck buddy home every night, I was there back then, when we were all hanging around with the Ducatis and doing a mountain of cocaine every day.” Marissa plastered the grin back on her face. “I can see why you’re stringing this one along, though, what a scrumptious little pussy cat.” Marissa brought her hands up to her face and pressed them in a V against her mouth, flicking her tongue out.

This woman has no interest in sex, Kenzie knew, despite Marissa’s lewd gesture. Marissa’s eyes flicked over to her again with a measure of loathing, and Kenzie caught her gaze this time, trapping Marissa’s dark, intense eyes. In fact, it disgusts and bores her. But she is practiced at the art of pretending. She’ll fake interest in anything if she thinks it can move her to where she thinks she wants to be. Sometimes, though, she’s disillusioned by the reality versus her expectation. And she always wants more. Like a wind that howls endlessly.

“Marissa. What do you want?” Duncan’s tone dipped, and Kenzie could feel his anger beginning to stir, his frustration and lust for her pressing against the anger, kindling it further, his sorrow and disillusionment with his mother pressing there too, and his energy became ragged and chaotic, the turmoil in him suddenly like water boiling over. She concentrated, conjuring wave after wave of translucent gold in her mind, staring at Marissa evenly as she pressed them down over him in his arms. I have no animosity in my heart for you, she thought to the other woman. In fact, I feel acute sympathy for you. I’m sorry you’re trapped in a world where you cannot possibly be yourself.

“I want you to ditch this penniless, raggedy bitch, Duncan. What are you doing? I mean, who even is she? Do you realize what you’re doing to your reputation? Really, it’s embarrassing.” Marissa was rolling her eyes, fingers toying with the huge diamond at her neck, another mirthless laugh barking out of her. “I’m gonna go do a line in the bathroom, and you should join me. I mean, it’s silly that we stopped seeing each other. I’m willing to forgive you if you’ll just get rid of her.”

“Marissa. You’re embarrassing yourself right now. Please, go away. Immediately.” Duncan’s tone was quiet and very low. “Go away or I’ll have you escorted off the premises.”

Marissa scoffed. “Duncan Shepherd, you can’t fucking do that.”

“Marissa.”

Kenzie had been watching from the cocoon of Duncan’s arms, but a hot, blinding energy had been building behind her temples for the last few minutes, one that seemed to want to burst from her mouth and her eyes and the corners of her fingertips; seemed alive and impatient, shot through with sunlight, and the power of the energy, the feeling in the center of her belly, was immense, like the dream where she’d made the fire grow. The energy, Kenzie knew, could do whatever she willed it to do--could move objects, could stop them, could distort the air, could freeze it, could move unseeable things, reverse them, rewind them. The knowledge of the immensity of the energy overwhelmed her for a moment--and Kenzie felt sure that though this woman had some strange power of her own (it was like indigo, the color of her, like indigo that ached, and the thing Marissa ached for was a thing she couldn’t find, like a lost portion of her heart that had tumbled down a dark well, never to be retrieved from the depths again), Kenzie was calm in the certainty that hers was greater, because it was lighter, it was the gold that could move all things, the gold that could heal, and the gold that could shield from all darkness.

“Marissa,” Kenzie said again, focusing her eyes inside the other woman’s. “It’s over. You will not be able to move him again. You must stop now. It’s futile.” The world has shifted, she thought now, into Marissa’s wide brown eyes, the words clear in her mind, as if she’d read them in an ancient book. The path is set. Yours goes somewhere else. To attempt to alter our destiny--the High Destiny--will result in your personal destruction. Stop now, little one.

The air seemed to cool, to thin. The three of them were inside the energy now; the energy that had come from the center of Kenzie, that she had somehow pressed out, controlled, to only the cocoon of their circle. The other guests seemed to drift past them as if in a dream, not glancing at them, as if they didn’t see the cocoon at all, as if she, Duncan and Marissa were suddenly invisible--it’s working, Kenzie thought. Let’s see if I can move her away from us now.

Marissa’s expression had fallen from the obscene, mocking smile to one of confusion and apprehension--her eyes widened, her head whipping back and forth inside the cocoon Kenzie had created around them, and she seemed utterly bewildered.

“What the fuck,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Marissa, I’m sorry. I can see how cold you’ve felt, and for so long. Good luck on your path. Look for something that won’t harm others. Look for something to protect. I promise, if you can find that, you will be happy someday. Go now. Forget about Duncan. That’s all over. He is not yours, not at this time, and not in any time.”

And with those words spoken, Kenzie pushed Marissa out of the cocoon she had built, and Marissa turned, as if in a dream, and walked away from them, not looking back, her blonde hair and tulle skirt retreating until she had turned the corner of the vast parlor beyond, and they could no longer see her. Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, counted. As she did, she could hear her heart beating frantically, feel the tiny shaking in Duncan’s arms as he held her, His face had pressed against her temple again, his eyes closed, and he looked almost meditative, but Kenzie could feel the confusion inside him; he doesn’t understand what I did, either. But he trusts me. He trusts me now. He knows I’d never hurt him, never, never in this world. He knows I will always protect him. And I will, baby. I always will.

Then she breathed out, and the spell broke; the cocoon dissipated, and they were back in the foyer of the Shepherd mansion, the sounds of clinking glasses, lilting piano music, and blue-blooded voices speaking in polite cadences bleeding back into the background. Duncan opened his eyes to stare into hers, and the storms there had dissipated--their blue was calm now, like the sky bleeding into a summer evening, like the moon’s reflection on a pool of water.

“Kenzie, baby, what was that?”

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

I loved your last zadison headcanon, lately I have been thinking about them starting a family (maybe Zoe suggesting it and Madison growing fond of the idea) idk I just think the concept would be so cute and fluffy I need to stop now 😂

Thank you so much, it’s really sweet!

And yes, I can see what you said. I think if they did decided to start a family, it would definitely be Zoe’s idea. I do believe she would have a lot of trouble to convince Madison of it, but she would end up agreeing to it because the scenario sounded very good.

I think Zoe would come with the idea after one of their friends have a kid (maybe Queenie or Foxxay) and she couldn’t stop thinking about having a family with the woman she loves. Madison would be against it at first (”We agreeded that it’s not us! Zoe, since the beginning we had both said we weren’t that couple, I thought we were at the same page here!”), but I think she would only be so against it because she was scared.

Madison didn’t had a nice relationship with her mother, she never had a mother figure to look up to, so she was really scared that she would fail at it like her mother did. I think Zoe would have a lot of work to convince her otherwise, especially when Madison starts to get negative about herself.

But she would fall for the idea after a while. The thought of having a family with Zoe, to actually have a mini Zoe running around, that made her change her mind. I believe that Madison would carry the baby (if that’s what they decided) because they wouldn’t want to run any risks with Zoe killer-vagina. But it’s more likely that they would adopt.

Oh, I feel you, anon. I also have to stop thinking about it hahaha

Speaking of… I wrote a small fic a while ago that I never posted and I think I will give it to you hahaha. Hope you like! And please let me know if you agree with me or if you have a different opinion about anything, I loved this ask!

No one had ever expected that tohappen. To have a kid just… thrown at the Academy and be left there by herparents, but that happened before anyone could do anything about it.

The girl was almost five when hermother left her at the door, ringed the bell and ran away, just leaving herthere with a letter and a bag of clothes. Queenie was the one who answered thedoor and took a few seconds to see the little girl standing there, holding herteddy bear in one hand and the letter in the other. She instantly knew what hadhappened.

Cordelia was the first one to benotified, of course, she is the Supreme after all, and they read the lettertogether. The parents basically told them that the girl had set the couch onfire after she sneezed and they couldn’t take care of her anymore, or pay forher education in the Academy, so they were hoping the witches could just takeher in. Not even in a million of years would Cordelia just throw a kid away, soshe soon arranged a room for the girl, while Queenie and Nan took her to thekitchen to eat something.She was just finishing her cereal when Zoecame in, looking at her cellphone a bit distracted.

“Hey. Have you guys seen Cordelia?Madison and I are back and we need to tell… oh.” She stopped when she noticedthe little girl staring at her with big black eyes. “Hello.”

“Hi.” The girl whispered and theother two witches looked at her in surprise. She had been in the Academy foralmost two hours and hadn’t said a word until that.

“Are you new here?”

The girl looked back at her bowl,not sure what to say. All of them could see just how confused she was, soQueenie pointed a finger to the door that took to the greenhouse so Zoe wouldfollow her to the garden. In there, she explained everything she knew aboutwhat was going on and saw how mad Zoe was to find out someone was capable ofdoing such a thing.

When they got back inside,Cordelia’s daughter was sitting in the other side of the table, holding her ownspoon while she waited for Nan to serve her cereal. But what shocked them themost was that the new girl was holding Madison’s hand in hers little ones.

“Can someone tell me what’s goingon?” Madison demanded, looking at the kid like she was a monster about the eather hand out.

“She’s new.” Zoe quickly explained,walking to them. “What’s your name, honey?”

The girl was still looking at herbowl when she answered. “Han.”

“Han? Like, short for Hannah?” Zoeasked with a soft smile. She wasn’t as good with kids as Nan, but she wasn’tterrible at it either. Hannah nodded her head in agreement, finally letting goof Madison’s hand when the former actress tried to pull it away. “Madison,don’t be a jerk. She’s scared.”

Madison rolled her eyes, but watchedas her girlfriend of almost seven years got on her knees to look the kid in theeye. On the table, Lily was finally eating her cereal, while the other witchesin the room only stared at the new girl.

“Do you want to rest? Are youtired?”

“Yes, she does.” Nan answered forher, knowing the girl was going to say ‘no’. “But she don’t want to stay alone,she’s afraid.”

“Oh, it’s okay, honey.” Zoepromised with a big smile that she hoped was going to make Hannah feel better.“I can stay with you until you fall asleep.”

“I thought we had to talk withCordelia.” Madison half whispered.

“I’m sure she will understand.” Zoewhispered back, helping Hannah to get out of her chair. “Come on, we will findyour room.”

And that was the first day ofHannah in the Academy.

That was also the day she adoptedZoe and Madison as her parents.To everyone’s surprise, the girl got reallyattached to both Zoe and Madison during her first days there. She would refuseto sleep if Zoe wasn’t with her, and she would always follow one of them aroundthe house so she never was alone with anyone else, she even stayed in one ofZoe’s classes making some drawing because Madison had to go out during the day.That was surprising because the kids always craved Cordelia, they always go toher until they had enough confidence to walk around the Academy alone and startto make some friends, but not Hannah. She prefered Zoe and Madison, and it wasclear to everyone that she was starting to see them as her new moms. Somethingthat terrified both of them.

They never thought about havingkids, that was just not something they discussed during their relationship.They talked about getting married, moving away from the Academy, getting a cat,traveling the world. Maybe get a puppy too. But never a kid. That was justsomething they never saw themselves doing. They saw Cordelia and Misty withtheir own kids, how happy they were, and how much of good moms they were, howthe kids were happy and healthy, how they were a big happy family, but not eventhat had ignited a desire in them to have the same thing. Queenie wanted it,they were sure Kyle wanted it too, maybe all the other girls in the house, butnot them.

Until Hannah.

They didn’t adopt Hannah, sheadopted them, and everyone knew it.In less than a month, the girl already hadMadison around her finger, doing everything she asked and giving her anythingshe wanted. Not that Zoe was any different, she was just better at pretendingshe wasn’t being bossed around by a five years old. Suddenly they had a plus oneto their daily trip to the ice cream shop, and the park was a new spot forthem. Instead of only going to the lingerie and dress stores in the mall, theyhad to start going to kids toys stores and kids clothes stores and kids stuffstores. Their closet was starting to be filled with stuffed animals and theyhad to go to the zoo every week. They had to stay up some nights because ofnightmares, but also had movie nights and blanket forts too many times to keepcount.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, andwithout planning, they were parents.

[kindabraveandlittlestupid]

Couples Costumes

So Halloween snuck up on me this year because it’s fucking tomorrow and I kinda forgot about it with all the things on the news. I had a handful of Halloween related posts that I wanted to post and while I managed to get a few done, the ones that require some photoshop work are still on my ‘To Do List’. Clearly, I went a little overboard with my post here posting 45 Halloween Costumes above (I am counting the classic Batman Costumes and the Wayne/Garth pics as just two costumes, so yes my math is sound).

I WAS planning to do a Velma/Shaggy or Salt/Snail costume with my S.O. but I am remarkably alone yet again, woe is me and my pity party. ^_^ Not being a downer, I promise. *Slaps Cheeks* Back on topic, Michael! You're rambling again. Yeah so here is a list of costumes. I might make another list next year but let's be honest the best couples costumes will be on this post. If you have your ideas/suggests I love to hear/see them in the notes.

Cartoons

Ash & Misty (Pokemon) - Kind of a classic costume these days as they are both iconic. Who wouldn't want to see their girlfriend in some jean shorts tiny yellow tank top? Misty can be switched out for sexy Pikachu.

Bob & Louise (Bob’s Burgers) - Lots of great characters in the show but none better than Bob and Louise (sorry Tina fans). This would be a fun outfit to host a party and cook burgers. Just a thought.

Birdman & Birdgirl (Harvey Birdman Attorney at Law) - Fun costume for Adult Swim lovers. I love for my girlfriend to do that inner monologue out in the open the way Birdgirl does. I could also switch Harvey out for Phil because “Ha Ha Naughty”. 

Max & Roxanne (Goofy Movie) - Simple costume with some paint on the nose and select clothes. I suspect only the 80′s thru 90′s kids would make the connection but the Z Generation has proved me wrong before.

Wanda & Cosmo (Fairly Oddparents) - Not my favorite costume set but one that would be fun if we had a kid who we were fairy godparents too.

Curious Georgia & Man in the Yellow Hat (Curious George) - This is all the excuse you need to jump on my back or my front or my bed. 

Alice & The White Rabbit (Alice in Wonderland) - Alice in Wonderland has lots of males to dress up as between the March Hare, White Rabbit, Mad Hatter and more. I am sure you girls like options.

Lilo & Stitch (Lilo & Stitch) - If I had four arms the sexy stuff we would do in bed but I don't sadly. However, I can make a great stitch voice not that a cartoon voice does much for you.

Jack Skellington & Sally (Nightmare Before Christmas) - I might be too broad shouldered for this sort of couples costume but if my partner is willing I am game. 

Mavis & Jonathan (Hotel Transylvania) - Mavis is perhaps a little to cute. I mean kind of a strange crush on a little vampire girl, so yeah I am not against someone cosplaying her for me.

Nick Wilde & Judy Hopps (Zootopia) - A little bit anthropomorphizing of Nick and Judy but they got good chemistry and so do we.

Spinelli & T.J. (Recess) - Not to take an innocent toon in a wrong direction but you know they probably smoked weed in high school together and T.J. convinces her to wear a dress for prom but no doubt still has her boots on. They make a cute couple to say the least.

Finn & Fionna (Adventure Time) - Heroes of Adventure Time! Sadly (not really sad about that) I am not blonde but we can always up on some 

Velma & Shaggy (Scooby Doo) - Yet another cartoon crush. I like a nerd and a little thick Velma.

Fred & Wilma (The Flintstones)  - Costumes are epic enough being basically caveman tunics. I can get behind this costume more if we had a Pebbles or Bam Bam to take out trick or treating.

Movies

Black Widow & Captain America (Avengers) - If I could afford it I would be Stark. If my hair was longer I would be Thor. Perhaps Hawkeye would be a better pairing. Regardless Black Widow is a woman among many men. This means you get your pick of which hero I dress up as.

Sam & Suzy (Sunrise Kingdom) - Kind of a hipster approach towards Halloween but sometimes being a nitch audience is ok.

Max & Furiosa (Mad Max) - If my girlfriend had a buzzed head, (for whatever reason that was) Mad Max would be an awesome costume to do together.

Mask & Tina Carlyle (The Mask) - I am a big Jim Carry fan so any excuse to dress up as his characters is a win. Camren Diaz was also smoking hot in this film.

Ash & Sheila (Army of Darkness) - Ash is pretty badass and the number 1 reason to dress as him is to have a chainsaw on your hand and double barrel shotgun on your back.

Dorthy & Scarecrow (Wizard of Oz) - I can also be a Tinman or Lion for your pleasure. That and you can be a green witch... no, I think prefer Dorthy.

Mary Poppins & Bert (Mary Poppins) - This costume would be so much better if I could sing or dance but I can't so I won't.

Aragorn & Arwen (Lord of the Rings) - If I find a woman into the Lord of the Rings (and Game of Thrones) she might be a keeper.

Harry Potter & Hermione Granger (Harry Potter) - Am I the only one who is upset Harry didn't hook up with Hermione? Am I the only one upset Emma Watson didn't hook up with me? Am I rambling? Should I shut up now?

Peter & Gamora (Guardians of the Galaxy) - Might easily be my favorite couple in the MCU. Gonna be a long night painting my girlfriend green.

Beetlejuice & Miss Argentina (Beetlejuice) - Again painting the girlfriend green and myself white! I suppose you could be Lydia and I can actually do a great impression of Michael Keaton's Beetlejuice.

Morticia & Gomez Addams (The Addams Family) - I would pay Thing if I could but sadly I can not disembody may hand and have it run around. I will have to settle for Gomez but your free to pick between Morticia or Wednesday. 

Wayne & Garth (Waynes World) - Playing to males? Meh sure. I loved this movie and I don't mind some cross-dressing for my partner. Just gonna be weird when Wayne makes out with Garth.

Shows

Burt Macklin & Janet Snakehole (Parks and Rec) - I am a special agent on a mission and your a wealthy widow with a secret. Only Parks and Recs fans will get this and that's just fucking great. Two rules though we don't break character and if I find a Johnny Karate, I must fight him.

Dexter Morgan & Hannah McKay (Dexter) - Might have been one of the hottest love scenes in a TV show ever. This costume works well with the plastic wrap and doubly fun to take it off you later.

Eleven & Mike (Stranger Things) - Pretty adorable couple on screen. Not sure about Season 2′s ‘rebel’ storyline in the city but still awesome all the same. I can't wait for season 3.

Batgirl/Catwoman & Batman (Batman Show) - I’m Batman. *Coughs* I mean I am dressed as Batman. The 1960′s Batman costume were simple but fun. Woman didnt look bad at all in their costumes either.

Daredevil & Electra (Daredevil) - I may keep it simple with the black mask and black shirt combo over the body armor. The good thing about those Marvel shows is the outfits are basic as hell.

William Riker & Deanna Troi (Star Trek) - Loved the TNG. Loved Star Trek. Can't go wrong with simple clothes and the Starfleet badge.

Comics/Video Games

Wonder Woman & Superman (DC Comics) - Open to interpretation about which Superman or Wonderwoman we are dressing up as. I have to admit the Wonder Woman movie costume was awesome. 

Batman & Catwoman (DC Comics) - Few romances have ever been so ‘Cat and Mouse’ or rather ‘Bat and Cat’ than that of Batman and Catwoman. The skin-tight body suit and whip make Catwoman all that much alluring. You can decide if you want to go TV show, Cartoon, Comics, Video Game or Movie versions of Selena Kyle.

Rogue & Gambit (Marvel Comics) - A man with deep love and a woman who can never be touched by him (at least skin to skin). This is some Shakespeare level tragedy for this lovely duo.

Spiderman & Black Cat (Marvel Comics) - What can I say its the costume on Black Cat... 

Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda) - I am totally open to also as playing as Ganon if you want me to capture you and tie you down to the bed. 

Misc

Mimes - A whole day of not talking to one another and miming shit out?! Sounds horrible lets just talk in private when no one is looking.

Fireman & Dalmation Girl - Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl? You are! Yes you are!

Little Red & Big Bad Wolf - I won't lie 90% of the reason this costume works is that it leads to sexy time in the bedroom.

Waldo & Wanda - We go to Good Will, buy a bunch of random junk. Write Property of Waldo on it and leave it around the neighborhood all night long. We can set up a Waldo themed house so people can bring items back to us.

Snail & Salt Shaker - Oh ho ho am I clever? Probably not someone has been bound to make a costume like this before. I think it be fun for you to avoid me the whole part as I walk around as a Salt Shaker.

Frankenstein & Bride of Frankenstein - Classic movie costume and its really all about the hair for the bride. I can imagine this being a big hit with the kids and fun for a monster movie night.

Regards Michael California

[lordreed]

scott reed; the backstreet girl and the uptown boy (1)

summary

word count: 723

i (you are here!) - ii - iii - iv - v

•

It was misty.

Gloomy, somber. It wasn't pretty out to most people, but to you, today was perfect to you.

The windbreaker that always seemed to be hanging onto your body; whether it be tossed over your shoulder, wrapped around your waist or hugging your figure; provided more than enough warmth for you. You were already a human heater, so the dreary weather put you at bay.

The only thing that could make this day better was revisiting the hideout; so you headed straight for it.

The hideout wasn't anything to rave about. A small fort built out of sticks by a couple people in their childhood that entailed an old, extremely dirty blanket. It had enough room to only hold about two high-schoolers. It seemed humongous when you were a child; now, if anything, it was a little cramped.

Although it wasn't completely comfortable, it was washed in nostalgia. Every breath you took in the hideout was another wave of memories from when you were a kid to 7th grade. Although, that was another story for some other time.

Getting on your hands and knees, you crawled through the bush in your path. They poked and prodded your sides as you padded through them. It wasn't a very big bush and you were done clearing it just as soon as you'd started.

You got up, and brushed off your hands and knees, then inched closer to the fort only to discover someone was in it, staring at you.

You scoffed.

"What are you doing here?"

The eyes looked at you, narrowing, before moving and getting out of the fort.

"What are you doing here?" he said, crossing his arms and tapping his foot on the ground.

"I'm doing what you are, Scott. Brooding."

Lo and behold, big Scott Reed was the one in your hideout. Needless to say, you were pissed, especially since this was your first time talking since 7th grade.

"Hm. I have to get back to Liberty, you can have the fort. Have fun." he picked up his backpack, tossing it over one shoulder and climbing into a bush.

His sudden appearance threw off what good mood you had going. You looked into the hideout to see if he'd rearranged anything; it looked just like it had the last time you were here. Although the inside was fine, you felt like his presence was lingering around, making you more irritated, if that was possible.

Turning around, you went back through the bush and to your parked car. You pulled your keys out of your pocket, unlocked the car and got into the driver's seat with a sigh. With all that was happening now, why did he have to come up again?

With Hannah Baker's suicide leaving devastation in its wake, everyone was on edge. The trial was going to start today. Those who were going to testify were notified; you were more than relieved to not get anything about it; and the vibe they gave off kept the school on their toes.

It was odd, seeing everyone this way for the last.. however many months. It seemed like it had been an eternity since your friend had taken her life.

Hannah was your friend; you weren't best friends, but you had a couple classes together and chatted when you were in a project together or just plain bored. Hearing what happened was heartbreaking.

Especially since Jeff.

You didn't even know where to start with Jeff. Jeff, the man, the myth, the legend. Your best friend since 8th grade. After his car accident, you thought you'd never move on. He became your friend when you felt like the world was against you. Although you two were completely different worlds, you fit together like puzzle pieces. His business was your business, and the other way around.

The last year had left you a shell of a person, but you powered through it. Days were hard, and you were alone once again, but you coped and learned to deal with it.

Thinking about all of this wore you out. You slumped against the seat and ran your thumb against the steering wheel.

You could use school as a temporary blocker to these thoughts; really wouldn't hurt to show up to the rest of your classes for the day.

And thus, you drove off.

[bellatrix-la-strange]

Neville’s After

There’s a silence hanging over the courtyard that Neville doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget. It’s the silence of past screams, cruel laughter and gushing wounds like the one soaking the side of his sweater and dripping to a puddle at his feet.

He sees Harry standing next to pile of rubble, then the pile moves and he realizes it’s Hagrid, felled sometime during the battle. Neville doesn’t think Hargrid’s dead, he might be toeing the line between both worlds but he hasn’t crossed over like so many before him.

His gran, Dobby, Fred, Lupin, Moody, Colin, Dumbledore…

An inconsolable wail rings in the courtyard.

Neville shifts on trembling legs to see the Parvati twins—no longer identical with the burn marks covering half of Padma’s face and the raised, fresh scars running down Parvati’s neck—carrying someone between them. Their legs give out as they trip on the head of one of Hogwart’s stone protectors and the body between them tumbles to the ground in a jumble of long, curly hair flying out of tattered clothes and patches of brown skin. Lavender.

The cries continue as the bodies of their dead friends, family and brave strangers are dug out and laid out on their backs in neat rows. Neville stays until the latest hours of the night and when not even the light from his wand can help him see in the billowing darkness, he retires to the tower.

He isn’t surprised when he finds a group of bodies huddled together on the common room floor. It’s too dark to see who they are and Neville doesn’t care who he sleeps next to as long as he’s not alone.

He finds an empty spot and lies down.

He doesn’t make it home until days after the battle. Madame Pomfrey had tended to his wounds as best she could and on the orders of her and the Saint Mungo’s volunteers who’d arrived to treat the worse of the wounded (and carry away the dead) he was going home to change into clean clothes and rest.

But there’s a silence in his house, too.

Neville studiously avoids the greenhouse and can’t bring himself to so much as step on the stairs leading to the second floor.

He sleeps on the sofa and doesn’t think about the room upstairs with an empty bed and a closet full of ridiculous hats.

I’m so sorry about your grandmother, Neville.

She was a great woman, that one. I didn’t expect anything less to take her down.

I know she could be a bit hard sometimes, but it was only because she loved you so much, dear.

You were there with the last of them, I heard, just like your parents. You’re a born fighter.

Your parents would be proud.

Your parents would be proud. Your parents would be proud. Yourparentswouldbeproud.

Neville glances down at his wand one morning. It looks different than the first time he got it over seven years ago. There’s a hardness to it that hadn’t been there before, that held no place in those first moments of wonder and magic.

He rolls it in his palm and thinks he might be able to feel the hearts of the people he killed beating against his skin.

But there’s a silence in there, too.

He finds it hard to believe his parents would be proud of this.

Diagon Alley is not as he remembers it. There are people milling around, going about completing their chores and running into people they know (he tries not to think how less likely that is, now).

He hears the clomp of their feet on cobblestones, the murmur of their words as they recite lists to themselves  and the crinkling of bags as they bump into strangers. There are children winding around the legs of adults but he doesn’t hear any laughter or whining or crying.

(There’s a silence everywhere he goes.)

He leaves without buying anything.

He reads the newspapers every day and finds charities, organizations and families who would benefit from an anonymous donation from a boy who lost everything and yet has too much.

He doesn’t extend his contact to the outside world further than that.

People drop by to see how he’s doing, from his grandmother’s friends to his own from Hogwarts, but it’s not until Harry comes by with a letter from the Ministry and a wailing infant in his arms with blue hair and green eyes that Neville hears some sound begin to pierce the silence.

He grasps the letter in his hands hard enough to crease the cream stationery.

That night, he steps into the greenhouse for the first time in a little under a year.

The memorial takes place a month later, just in time for Neville to apply the finishing touches.

It’s held on the edge of the Black Lake, a sea of tranquility on one side and the broken remains of Hogwarts castle on the other, slowly and painstakingly being built back up brick by brick.

Neville doesn’t think he could’ve picked a better place himself and from the looks of the people around him—some known to him, others not—they also agree.

A large stone, like a menhir, has been erected on the edge of the beach where the grass turns to sand. Etched on its surface are the names of every last person lost to the war. It takes a while for him to find his grandmother’s but when he does, Neville lets out a choked laugh which rouses the people around him.

Augusta Penelope Longbottom.

A. P. L.

Apple, because I was the apple of my father’s eye. It’s not even properly spelled—it essentially makes no sense—but your great-grandfather was so proud of his stroke of genius...

There is a pile of gifts and personal effects at the foot of the monument. Neville has no problem finding his grandmother’s hat (the most horrendous one he’d ever seen in his life which his gran somehow seemed to adore). He also saw a camera, a clock-hand, a pair of mismatched socks, a lighter, a plate with the imprint of a baby’s hands pressed into the middle, and photographs. So many photographs.

Many people had something to say and by the time the last speaker walked off the podium only a sliver of the sun could be seen peeking over the horizon. Neville holds his breath and waits for night to fall.

There’s a depression in the ground, a tremble of the earth which sets off panicked whispers, and then the vines sprout from the foot of the large stone. They wind around its edges, sprouting small flowers which let off a misty white glow and are joined back together at the top of the stone, producing a large, bell shaped flower with buttery petals and curled edges. The flower hangs over the top of the stone and shines a pulsing light on the words below.

It will only last for the one night, but every year on the same day, the anniversary of the battle, the plant will grow its vines and sprout its flowers and light up the names of the people they love.

Though many sounds follow the plant’s sudden appearance, they inevitably wind down and disappear altogether until there’s nothing but dozens of glowing names etched in stone.

It’s a different silence this time.

He goes back to what he’d always wanted to do: study Herbology. Once that’s done and he has his degree in hand he applies for a Teaching Assistant job at Hogwarts and it’s barely a day later when he receives Headmistress McGonagall’s positive response.

Five years later and he’s promoted to Herbology Professor. It’s been a long time since Professor Sprout has been able to get on her knees to check on her plants without struggle and she trusts no one else more than Neville to take over her post.

When he comes home that night it’s to the smell of homemade stew and strings of music played by an old radio.

He finds Hannah in the kitchen and hugs her from behind, arms winding around her small, round belly as he presses a kiss to her shoulder. He listens to her intently as she describes her day and rejoices with her when she tells him of the promising results she received in her latest Healer’s exam.

She nearly topples over the cooking pot in her rush to kiss the living daylights out of him when he tells her his own piece of news.

As Headmaster of Hogwarts, Neville doesn’t often have the time to sit down and reflect on the passing years so when a situation calls for doing just that, it always comes as a shock to see what time has changed.

His twin girls have grown like weeds over the years and now that they’re in their third year at Hogwarts they’re beginning to find it less and less cool to have their dad constantly aware of everything they’re doing. Hannah says it’s only natural for them to want to start their own lives but he’s caught her more than once staring longingly at the framed pictures of them as toddlers, hanging off their parents’ arms and legs with grass stains on their knees.

Their house is full of memories like that one, it’s what his girls have grown up with, what they’ve come to know. But they also know other things.

They know of the war their parents had to fight in, know of their pain and the scars they still carry in the nightmares that still wake them up in the middle of the night and the more physical ones marring their mum’s hands and slashed across their dad’s side.

They know that lives were lost (so many of them) and they dutifully attend the yearly memorial service held at the edge of their school grounds.

They have friends who lost family members and some who didn’t even get to know their parents (just like their dad). Those are the ones that, when summer vacation comes about, are guided off the train by a red-headed girl and her two raven-haired brothers and taken to their father’s Small Steps Orphanage: A Home for Kindred Souls.

There is a light back in the world. It has a music which fills the empty spaces left behind by those they lost and is joined by a temid, sweet melody resplendent with hope and new beginnings and though the silence isn’t completely gone (merely waiting in a secluded corner for the darkness to fall, the memories to creep in and the nightmares to take hold) it’s held back by his wife’s exasperated eye roll, his daughters’ pointless fights, his students’ mischievous pranks, the photos of his gran in her hideous hats…

The silence isn’t gone. It’s still there, waiting.

And when his time comes decades later, like an old friend, it folds him in its arms and embraces him.

[cuuno-moved]

after it all (or: boomer fucking dies)

inspired by @sleepsart's incredible comic

tws for: a very graphic car wreck and death (but it gets a semi-happy ending)

They woke up in a dark room.

That’s it. That’s all they knew. It was dark, and they were cold. Not cold in a ‘freeze to death’ cold, but in a ‘put on an extra sweater before you go out’ cold.

They didn’t have an extra sweater. They didn’t even have a sweater. They stood there in their baggy white t-shirt and light grey sweatpants, and they shivered.

They missed their hat.

They didn’t even know what their hat looked like, only that they didn’t have it, only that they missed it.

They called out, a few times. A plaintive little cry for help, met with an echoing silent indifference.

It was quiet in a way nothing was quiet.

Not even their footsteps against the ground filled the silence, the quiet thunks hardly doing anything to fill the sickening empty void.

Finally, there was light, and they could breathe.

It was still dark, of course, it wasn’t that kind of light, but there was light.

It was a woman.

It was a giant woman, nearly too tall to take in one look, with a long black veil, and a long red dress. A ring shone on her hand, a diamond the size of their head.

She was watching them.

They weren’t sure how they could tell, but they could.

“Hello.” They murmured, although they were still far enough away that she couldn’t possibly hear them.

“Hello, my child,” She responded, calmly and beautifully, and she knelt. “I’m sorry you ended up here when you did.”

“Where am I?” They asked.

“You’re safe. You’re home.”

“I’m cold,” They said, pulling at their tshirt. “Why am I cold?”

“It’s often cold here,” She said, apologetically. “Sometimes it’s not, but often it is.”

“Ah,” They said, understandingly, although they didn’t understand at all. “Who are you?”

They felt the woman smile, although they couldn’t see it. “I am the lady of the crows, I am the final hope, I am the mother of night, Angelwife.”

“Trixtin,” They murmured, reverently. “Goddess of Death.”

She nodded, and they sank to their knees.

“Who am I?”

“Remember.” Trixtin said, gently.

“I can’t,” They moaned, tugging at their shirt. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Yes you can.” She said. “Now remember.”

And they did.

It was a beautiful day, the day they died, and not just because they were finally going to be free. The sun was a beautiful shade of blue, the sun was shining and there was just a hint of a breeze. It was beautiful. It was freedom.

Hannah had turned on the radio in the car, and as some generic pop song played, she tapped her fingers against the wheel, bobbing her head. Her little pink sunglasses sat on the tip of her nose and she took a sip of her cherry soda as they raced down the road.

They were almost like any other friends on vacation, any other young adults, fresh out of high school, exploring the world.

For a moment, they tried to pretend they were, that they were sat beside Hannah on a road trip across the country or whatever, instead of running from a fighting ring, desperately searching for her brothers, who may or may not have found some sort of paradise-

“Boomer.” She said, sharply. “I can hear you overthinking from here.”

“I just… I’ve been in there for years,” They said, tiredly. “I’m not even sure where we’re going.”

“I told you,” She said, laughing. “Punz sent me a letter. There’s an SMP, it’s safe. He’s on good terms with the admin, we’ve got special permission to enter.”

Boomer hummed, pulling their knees up to their chest. “I miss him.”

“So do I,” She said. “So do I…”

It was quiet for a bit, before they spoke again, quieter this time. “Do you think they’ll send anyone after us?”

Hannah sighed, running her fingertips over the leather stitching of the wheel. “No. Hypixel has so many players, we’re hardly a drop in the bucket. Us leaving is like… it’d make it worse if they admitted that they let us get away. Pretend they’re in control. Pretend we’re not a threat on the outside.”

“Are we?”

She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. They weren’t going to do anything to try to stop Hypixel. They weren’t going back. They weren’t going to try to help anyone else escape.

When Technoblade finally got out, when he was released, he told the news he would never go back. For months, the news proclaimed in big letters: ‘Hypixel legend Technoblade swears to never return.’ The players cursed his name. They told each other that if they ever excaped, they would help each other.

They wouldn’t though.

They weren’t revolution leaders.

They were kids and teens and tired gladiators, sick of fighting, sick of the pain of death and respawning and despairing.

Boomer let their head rest against the window, bouncing off the glass. “You know where we’re going, right?”

Hannah tapped the GPS with one long, acryllic nail. “Yeah, baby. Only two more hours.”

Boomer nodded, smiling. “Okay. Okay, good, that’s alright then. We’re good.”

“Take a nap, Boom,” Hannah said, reaching over to grab their hand. “I’ll take care of us, don’t worry.”

Boomer chuckled. “I know. Night, Rose. Wake me up when we get there.”

They woke up two hours later to Hannah cheering.

“We’re there!” She cried, beaming at them. “We’re safe!”

They stretched their arms up, cracking their back. It was getting dark out, but it looked like rain was on the horizon. It was still beautiful, trees and valleys and beautiful mountains.

They felt their heart swell.

They weren’t sure what happened next.

One moment, they were watching the clouds brush across the sky.

The next, a cow was in the road and Hannah yanked the wheel to the side.

The car went off the road.

Their head slammed back, then forward, and then, suddenly, they were upside down.

Their chest hurt.

Their stomach hurt.

They were bleeding.

They couldn’t breathe.

“Hannah?” They rasped, craning their neck.

She was still in her seat, at least, her eyes unfocused and wide. There was a cut on her forehead, and the blood ran into her hair, turning the brown curls rusty. As soon as they choked out her name, she seemed to snap to attention.

“Boomer?” She murmured. “Oh- oh god.”

She reached down to her seatbelt, rattling it, and finally, it unlatched, releasing her, and she fell hard.

“My seatbelt is stuck,” Boomer choked out. “I can’t… I can’t move.”

“No-” Hannah gasped, and crawled closer. “No, no it can’t be.”

She pressed the latch, then tugged, then yanked, then she let out a scream, ripping at the belt itself.

“Hannah,” Boomer said, grabbing at her hand. “Hannah get out. Go. Save yourself.”

“No,” She hissed, almost ferally. “No, I’m not fucking leaving you.”

“What more can you do?” They murmured. They were losing blood fast.

“...I’m going to get help,” She promised, pressing her lips together. “Just… stay here. Don��t die on me.”

“Okay,” They lied. “Okay.”

She wriggled her way out of the car though the shattered windshield.

They blinked.

It was raining.

They were bleeding.

It hurt.

There were footsteps.

They blinked.

Two pairs of hands were tugging on them.

They opened their eyes.

They were being held.

A man stared down at them.

He was talking in a soft humming tone, his hands pressed against their neck.

They couldn’t feel their legs.

They blinked.

It was all so dark.

They couldn’t see.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Punz laughed, flicking at their forehead. “Open your eyes!”

They did.

They were alone.

No, Hannah was here.

The man was here, too, his voice still deep and reassuring.

His solid black eyes shone with tears.

He was crying for them.

He didn’t even know them.

They were so tired.

They pressed their hands to the ground.

They were laying on the grass.

Hannah was carrying them.

They were falling.

They were in a car.

They were in a tournament.

They were alone.

It was cold.

Trixtin watched them.

They stared back.

“My name is Boomer,” They said, quietly. “I’m Boomer.”

“Yes you are,” She agreed. “You are Boomer.”

“...I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Who was that man?” They asked. “The one who held me, in the end.”

“His name is Sam, he will look after Hannah as long as he can. They buried you, in her garden, by the rose bushes.”

“Will they be okay? Hannah and Punz and Purpled?”

“... I’m afraid I don’t know.”

“Can I go back? Please? I don’t- I have to help them. I’m too young-”

“You can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

At that, she hesitated, thought it through. “It isn’t your turn.”

“That’s bullshit.” They spat, even though they knew cursing at a goddess was ill advised in every way that counts.

“Oh?” She sounded almost laughing, like a mother who’d caught her child with his mouth full of chalk. “Why is that?”

“I didn’t get to fucking live, man. I didn’t get to stop all that bad shit from hurting them.”

She seemed to blink. “Oh…”

“Can I at least have my hat?”

There was a pause, then, before she sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” They said. “Thank you so much.”

Death hummed, standing slowly. She towered into the misty darkness above them, and for just a moment, Boomer saw under her veil, saw her skeletal face and shining ruby eyes, and then she turned, and walked away, and they were alone.

Alone.

[geminicblue]

20 Galaxies: Legend in the Sky Chapter 6

Only one day, and Misty decided that introducing herself as a Breckenridge girl was a mistake. She'd gotten some attention with her Carmody pendants, but few were willing to strike up an actual conversation with her. No one wanted to be friends with a Breckenridge girl. They were confined to the mansion and grounds, except for school and trips the house mothers arranged. Misty had heard houses like Breckenridge used to have their own built-in schools, but Breckenridge sent their residents to public school to make sure they interacted with the outside world. It didn't work well. There were clusters of matching blue dresses in prime corners of the playground, where the lunch monitors didn't often go. Misty had only seen one of them talk with someone from "the outside" -- the tallest of her housemates, a fragile blonde with perpetually teary eyes.

Eventually it would have come out though, even if she'd said nothing. She'd be stuffed in one of those dresses soon enough. That insufferable Mother Kendrick already suspected Misty of sabotaging the spare uniforms, even though Misty couldn't possibly have known where storage was or where bleach was kept. The uniforms couldn't all end up like that.

The motion and sound of all the students at play was overwhelming, especially the sound. There were a hundred conversations in earshot, impossible to pick apart. Screaming, laughter, complaints, basketballs thudded and shoes scraped on asphalt. A garishly-painted football with a broad tail like a comet gave a whistle as it was hurled skyward. She came to rest on a set of stacked railroad ties that lined the path from the lunchroom to the playground. The leaves of the short, stunted tree she sat under made dancing patches of sunlight and shadows across the ground. The breeze combed her hair, bringing the chill, papery smell of summer's undoing, of old leaves and fire. Winter was as unfamiliar as the tree she sat under, and generally unpleasant from what she had heard.

She hated being here, every minute of it. He loved it. He had once told her the best time of year was spring.

Misty gave an exasperated huff as the voice of her "guardian" crept into her mind. She was annoyed with herself for wishing he was there. It wasn't as if she needed guidance or discipline, as he insisted. She had enough discipline not to clock him over the head for saying that. Aside from the fact that he probably would have killed her for that. It just would have been nice to have someone familiar around. Her stay at Breckenridge, so far from home, was indefinite.

Something crashed into her, nearly knocking her off her seat. Her thoughts scattered, her head flared with pain, her mind boiled with rage. As soon as she regained her balance, she shot to her feet. A boy with startling red hair made a running leap off the end of the railroad ties. "Watch it, moron!" Misty hollered at him.

The boy skidded to a halt and glare at her, fists clenched. Another boy turned as well. She caught a glimpse of his eyes widening before he hid his face entirely behind the bill of his hat. Misty swelled with pride, knowing she was capable of such a withering look, but unfortunately it had no effect on the redhead.

The boy in the hat caught the redhead's shoulder. She heard him whisper, a warning in his words. As good as her hearing was, she only caught that it was a warning, but she recognized the voice and felt a jolt. She had to find out his name. "Who are they?" she demanded of a group of girls nearby.

Two of the girls lowered their eyes to their shoes, but a third said, "The Sox fan is Jayson Hadley. The little guy is Randy Fresnel."

"Who you calling little, Hannah?" Randy snapped at her. "And who are you calling a moron?"

Misty stood. "You heard me."

"So you gonna apologize?"

Many of the students had stopped on the pathway to watch them. The basketball had stopped thudding. Jayson mumbled something about not fighting with girls. Misty knew she had to talk to him, but the pain in her head fueled rage too hot to keep inside. "Excuse me? For what? You kicked me the head, you apologize!"

A fist raised. Misty tensed. She was not used to fighting only with her hands, but her anger urged her to try. It seemed like half the school was gathered around them now. Jayson finally lost his temper, though it was at Randy. "Seriously, stop."

"You heard what she said!" Randy hissed at him.

"I'm starting to think she's right. Let it go!"

He was on her side? That was a surprise. She seized on the distraction and turned to leave. "Maybe you should watch where you're going if you don't want to hear the truth about yourself."

Randy's hand crushed her shoulder. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm and spun, yanked him towards her, and buried his fist in his stomach. He had started to say something, but the rest of his words came out in a yelp. The crowd gave a collective shout, then fell silent.

Randy didn't fight back. He crumpled and came to rest on his hands and knees. His eyes screwed shut, his mouth gaped, working for air. She looked at Jayson, expecting the next blow to come from him, but he simply backed away, his hands up. She cast her sharpest scowl at the onlookers, and some of them took a step back, too. The Breckenridge girls stared from a distance, their expressions ranging from snide disapproval to fear to delight.

Randy wheezed when she nudged his hand with her toes. She wanted to flatten him right then and there. All her muscles clenched with the effort to restrain herself. She sounded cold and amused, without any traces of the fury still hot under the surface. "Next time, watch your step."

She walked off just as a lunch monitor dispersed the crowd. Jayson was back beside his friend. She headed quickly for the door, but he only said to the monitor, "He got hit in the stomach with a basketball."

"I did not," Randy protested hoarsely.

Jayson cut him off in a voice too low for the monitor to hear, but Misty caught every word. "Shut up! Do you want to get suspended?"

Jayson Hadley. She scribbled his name in large capital letters as soon as she got ahold of her daily planner. There was more than homework to be done later.

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter