#if i see her hopefully she’s gone senile and doesn’t remember me

[lethalwizard]

why the fuck is it so difficult to find a physio who doesn’t do chiropractic cupping shit and is also a woman. hello

[terry-perry]

Preyed Upon pt. 3

As always, (majority of) OCs were created by @ladyfluff​. Give her a follow if you haven’t already.

Also as always, enjoy the read!

They didn’t know what their next move could be after they left Raymond’s place, and all remained silent as they went back to Y/N’s apartment with more than millions of thoughts swimming in each of their heads. Once they got there, they each went about the place like mindless drones, still not one of them saying a word. With Peter being the most active on autopilot, he scurried over to the kitchen and looked through the fridge and cupboards. Luckily he was able to find some things to help keep him occupied for the time being.

Cooking had always been a way for him to cope with tension-filled situations since it was something that kept him busy and his mind at ease. Which was why not long after, when the place began to produce a sweet smelling aroma from the desserts being made, he had a moment where he was feeling a form of contentment. That was until reality came back in the form of Adam.

“What are you doing?” He had asked, looking around the kitchen and witnessing the various ingredients and plates of snacks already made.

“Thought I’d make a little something for Ian,” Peter said. “I’m sure he hasn’t eaten anything since...all this.”

“It looks like a bakery in here, Peter,”

“Well maybe he’s one of those zombies that stress eats!”

Peter let out a sudden, irritated huff and put down the mixing bowl he had been stirring on the counter. It was harsher than intended, with some of the batter jumping out. The two stood there in awkward silence after his outburst, waiting for one of them to at least remotely address the situation they were in.

“Where’s Eve?” Peter asked.

“In the bedroom, having a bit of a row with Ava,”

“What are they arguing about?”

“Eve’s trying to push her into trying to remember whatever can be useful in finding Y/N. While also chastising her over her taste in men,” Adam explained, a ghost of an amused smirk appearing. “Where’s Rowan?”

“In one of the other rooms, talking to a neighbor of ours that’s watching over the pups while we’re gone,”

Neither had asked about the whereabouts of Ian, having seen him go straight up to the roof while mumbling about having a smoke. So seeing no other way to beat around the bush, the younger brother had decided to express what had been on his mind for some time now. 

“Do you remember the first person from our past life that we saw die?” He inquired, almost expecting Adam to not answer. “After we’d been around for a good while?”

“Henry,” Adam responded with.

Peter confirmed with a quiet nod. Their parents had died long before their brother did, but they didn’t include them since they each passed away about five years or so after the three siblings were turned. Although they didn’t attend either of their funerals, it wouldn’t have raised too much suspicion if they had. With Henry, however, it was already a good 40+ years when they caught wind of his nearing death and decided to pay him a visit. Funny enough, it was Y/N that had insisted on going to see him.

“He was just a senile old man on his deathbed,” Peter recalled, sounding so far away. “Didn’t even bat an eye to us looking the way we did.”

He gave a bitter and tight-lipped smile as he remembered the final moments they each shared with their late brother; taking a withered hand and smiling down at him on the raised bed. He had managed to raise his tired eyes that could only widen slightly from seeing his estranged siblings.

“Sweet sister, you’ve grown to be quite the beauty,” he had expressed in a croaking version of his younger voice.

“Adam, you’re due for a shave...Ah, little Peter...I use that term ironically now,”

They had let him spew out tales from their childhood and young adulthood. Peter shook his head a bit when remembering the way Henry had babbled in an almost child-like way, giving his spin on the way he tormented the family growing up. He had always been the one that was more of a bully with the way he “playfully” picked on everyone.

“He was such an asshole,” Peter remarked. “Probably the biggest one when we were kids. But I was still sad to see him go.”

Adam heard the sadness in his voice. He knew he didn’t like to talk about their past lives very often since there weren’t much fond memories to look back on. So it was rare for them to talk about the family that had been dead and gone for centuries now.

“Y/N has always been the good one,” Peter went on to say, appearing to be quite spaced out. “Since the day she was born, she had been so sweet. I don’t know where she could’ve gotten it from. The rest of us  were full of such meanness and resentment.”

“You, at least, had a reason to be bitter,” Adam brought up lamely.

But he was able to see what he meant. Y/N was always someone with a kind heart; an open-minded free spirit that always had at least an ounce of empathy for people. It didn’t matter who you were, she would do what she could to understand you and the things you did. It’s why even when they struggled with seeing eye-to-eye about certain things, they always had been able to confide in her when it came to their deepest emotional thoughts. Whether it be Peter talking to her about his sexuality for the first time, or her helping Adam be momentarily distracted from his darkening thoughts, she was always the light of the family.

“I just keep thinking,” Peter suddenly choked out. “What’s going to happen if we can’t...how we’d react if she-”

“Oi, don’t think something like that for even a second! We’re not going to let that bastard get the best of us.”

“Adam, face facts! He’s got her locked up somewhere and is most likely torturing her every time one toe is out of place. He’s already winning!”

“He isn’t winning!” Adam argued, his voice rising. “The only way he will is if we continue with all this negative thinking. And since that’s coming from me, that should tell you plenty about how much you need to lighten the fuck up.”

The tension grew after that outburst, as though that were possible. Anyone else would’ve been shocked or hurt by the way his stoic demeanor broke so harshly, but Peter only rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I just don’t see how we’ll be able to get her back,”

“There might be a way,” Eve called out.

They turned and found her standing in front of them with a sulking Ava by her side. 

“Ava has something she needs to say,”

“If it’s an apology, I’m not really in the mood for it,” Adam grumbled. Peter just resumed stirring his mix. It’s not that they blamed her for this situation, but they’d be lying if they said that they weren’t more than a little upset with her for bringing Raymond back into their lives. Despite multiple warnings to do otherwise.

“I don’t know where Raymond’s keeping Y/N,” Ava started with. “But I know someone that might,”

That drew their attention back.

----

Everyone had gathered into the living room to hear what Ava had to say.

“A couple days ago before this all happened, Raymond had gone to see Victor,”

“Victor?” Adam inquired. “Are you sure?”

“The guy’s been living in the same place in Brooklyn for over 70 years. I’m sure. I don’t know what he asked from him since I was left in the car while he went inside, but I’m certain whatever it was helped with getting Y/N to wherever she is now.”

“Wait, who’s Victor?” Ian asked.

“He’s someone like us that has been known to get things,” Peter told him. “There’s hardly anything he can’t get his hands on. Especially for the right price.” He threw a question of his own to the rest of the group. “But you don’t suppose he’d actually do business with Raymond, do you?”  

“Only if he wasn’t told everything,” Adam stated. “You know Victor, he doesn’t ask a lot of questions if you flash enough cash his way to keep his mouth shut. He probably doesn’t even know about Y/N.”

“Most likely not. He wouldn’t have sold anything to the asshole if he did.”

“So what now?” Rowan asked next. “Do we just go over to Victor’s and ask him what he may or may not know?”

“It’s better than doing nothing,” Adam reasoned. “If anything, we can go over and see what he has in stock that might help somehow.”

He took a glance at the window, estimating how much was left of the night. “I’ll go there myself, but the rest of you should get some sleep,”

“No, I’m going too,” Peter claimed.

“Are you sure?”

He stepped over to him, a sheepish smile forming on his face. “You were right before. We’re not going to let him get the best of us. We’re going to get her back.”

Adam didn’t say anything except nod in agreement. But then he was spun around by Eve who gave him a worried expression.

“Adam-”

“There’s no sense in all of us going,” he interrupted her with his explanation while giving pleading eyes of his own. “I don’t know what kind of information will be handed to us, or what situation we’ll be landing ourselves in. But I’ll contact you as  soon as I can. Just stay here, please?”

“The things I do for you,” she uttered in return. They then shared a good, loving kiss.

“Hopefully we’ll be back in a night or so,” Peter meanwhile assured his own love. “And if things go well, Y/N will be with us too.”

“I’ll try my best to not worry,” Rowan could only half-joke about that. “And I’ll keep you updated about the babies while you’re away.”

“Thank you,”

“I’m going too,” Ian piped up, getting up from the couch.

“Ian, it’s probably best that you stay here-”

“Yeah, no offense Adam, but I wasn’t asking permission,”

That definitely caught everyone off guard.

“Look, I know you guys are way smarter and stronger than I am -- and there’s still a lot I don’t know about your kind -- but I can still be useful. I want to be, anyway. Because she’s my girl, I want to do what I can to save her.” 

 Adam peered over to Peter who just shrugged and gave him a look that said it was his call. He went back to look at Ian.

“All right, but stay close. I’m sure Victor will be able to supply you with a gun, if needed. You ever use one?”

“Does a paintball gun count?”

“Sure,” Peter answered him with that same weak smile on his face. “We should probably get going before it gets light out.” He returned to Rowan and shared a few more parting words.

Ian stood off to the side as he watched Adam and Peter share goodbyes with their partners. He did his best to ignore the twinge in his heart that came from doing so while also doing what he could to avoid the wandering thought of how he should’ve done better in savoring the last moment he shared with Y/N...

----

Y/N ran her fingers through Ian’s hair while his face stayed hidden in her neck. With his weight on her, she could easily feel his thundering heart as he continued to catch his breath. She started giggling when he lightly rubbed his nose against her cheek. She had no choice but to turn and share several lazy kisses with him. They broke apart eventually, going on to look at each other with hooded eyes and sated smiles.

“That was amazing,” he whispered, still a little out of breath.

“You always say that,” she teased, sliding her arms further down to hug him closer to her.

“That’s because it’s always amazing,”

He gave her one more kiss then rolled off her to go on his side of the bed. They had spent majority of that night between the sheets, only taking breaks every so often to wash themselves off, share a smoke, cuddle or let him recharge with some food. They made love through the dark hours until the transition of the first morning lights when slept it all off.

Had he known that that would’ve possibly been the last time, he would’ve made more of an effort to memorize her movement, the noises she made. He would’ve stayed up a little longer to watch the peaceful way she slept, the cute way her face would subtly twitch from the dreams she had. Had he known what was to come, he would’ve tried harder to keep them in bed. 

----

Adam glanced up towards the rearview mirror and caught sight of Ian in the backseat, still lost in thought since leaving the apartment. Did he even realize they had left? When he turned to look at Peter in the passenger seat, he saw that he was checking on him too. They shared a look with each other afterwards, seeming to be thinking the same thing.

It was usually smarter for their kind to not get too close to many people, safer. But the ones they did have in their lives were always going to be the ones they stayed loyal to and kept safe. The brothers might’ve failed in keeping Y/N away from Raymond’s clutches, but they were going to do everything in their power to get her back. And they were also going to do what they could to make sure Ian was well taken care of. They knew she would’ve done the same if it was Eve or Rowan in his position.

So they made a silent agreement on the way that no matter what happened, he would be protected and come back in one piece.

[storytellingandtea-blog]

Adults Over-analyse Harry Potter - Part 1

@greenmornings and I are re-reading the Harry Potter series, and decided to do it book-club style. Since we ended up overanalysing it anyway, and had to start a google doc to even figure OUT some things, we thought we’d clean stuff up, and share it with you guys. Most of what’s in these posts will be based specifically out of the books, but we’ll have at least some conjecture in attempt to make sense of some events. This specific post is probably half-conjecture, due to the scarce canon info.

This post was supposed to encompass the first 10 chapters or so, but Wynne and I quickly realised there’s something very weird going on with the progression of events from the Attack at Godrick’s Hollow to Harry being delivered onto the doorstep of the Dursleys. This took close to an hour and a half to even slightly figure out, and even then, it makes somewhat limited sense. So, really, this entire post only covers the events of the Prologue of Philosophers/Sorcerer’s Stone. Under the cut are the best to chronological events of those two days that we could figure out. We’re still confused. Rowling, why ;; We apologise for the rambling, and would be happy to attempt to clarify. 

Voldemort gets the secret out of Peter, and storms Godric’s Hollow - it can’t be any later than 8 pm or so, as Harry is 1 year old, and still awake (and playing, not awake and in a crib while the parents are trying to get him to sleep). Voldemort kills James and Lily, and is killed by the backlash. Albus is alerted to something happening by a spell, and he sends Hagrid to retrieve Harry. Why does he send Hagrid, when he has no real idea of what the hell is going on over there? There could still be Death Eaters there, there could be any countless number of dangers -- Hagrid can’t use a wand. Sirius arrives after (somehow) coming to the conclusion that Peter had betrayed them — presumably he finds out about the commotion around Godric’s Hollow, but why would he assume a betrayal instead of a post-torture confession? Additionally, why did the Fidelius even fail in the first place -- Voldemort would have no reason to dismantle it, as he knows the secret. The Fidelius is obviously gone by the time the roof of the house explodes due to the magical backlash, due to Muggle reactions.

Sirius is denied taking Harry by Hagrid (on orders, as disclosed by Sirius in PoA book -- important to note that Sirius isn’t mentioned or implied in book 1), and runs off after Peter. Peter grabbed his Lord's wand at some point that day (Does he arrive trailing after V? This has to happen at some point, probably this night, as Peter DOES have Voldemort’s wand in GoF, but is never explicitly mentioned in the books, just in an interview. It had to have happened before Dumbledore or Auror’s arrived on scene. Potentially before Harry was rescued? Otherwise, it’s too strange that Pettigrew was never suspected if he snuck out with Voldemort’s wand? Though Hagrid isn’t particularly observant, and Sirius is a bit out of his mind at the time). Sirius runs off after Peter, presumably without telling Hagrid ANYTHING. For some reason. Presumably, because he’s not exactly in a position to think at all, considering the situation. Sirius would surely trust Hagrid to relay the information usefully? Presumably, his anguish completely melts his brain?

Unknown events happen for a while, presumably still the night of the 31st, maybe very early morning on the 1st. Hagrid presumably returns to Hogwarts with Harry, on Sirius’ bike, and either puts him in his hut, or gives him to Dumbledore. Likely the latter, as he knows Dumbledore will be at Privet Drive, and Dumbledore vanishes with him somewhere for a long while, hopefully including seeing a healer. During this time period, which is late on the 31st, but just as likely on the early morning of the 1st, Hagrid talks to Minerva, mentions Dumbledore planning on going over to Privet Drive. For some reason, Hagrid doesn’t tell her of the fate of the Potters and that baby Harry has somehow defeated Voldemort — maybe he doesn’t really know/hasn’t put it together? There’s no way Hagrid wouldn’t have blabbed to her— alternatively, does she really put that little significance into what Hagrid says?

By this time (the morning of the first), rumours are already flying -- what the hell happened? How the hell does everyone know already? What happened? Express Prophet fuelling rumours that happened from a leak or something? What the hell is going on with November the First, seriously. There are very limited channels where info could have come out -- is this where Dumbledore was for some of the period he was missing?

Minerva leaves to go to Privet Drive, implying Dumbledore was away from Hogwarts on the morning of the first (potentially night of the 31st as well), likely with baby Harry for some of that time, and possibly taking a visit to Godric’s Hollow at some point. As Hagrid is the one to arrive with Harry to Privet Drive, he  leaves Harry with Hagrid to be delivered by bike again, for some reason, and (probably) visits Godric’s Hollow immediately prior to apparating to Privet Drive. Otherwise, there’s no likely reason for him to have arrived without Harry. (Most of this is conjecture, because what the fuck really happened that night? Harry and Dumbledore just kinda go missing as far as canon info goes.) He could have just picked Harry up himself, and likely taken less time. Why bother going through Hagrid at all? Again.

Minerva has been essentially stalking the Dursleys the entire day (she was there in the morning when Vernon left), likely using eavesdropping charms for some reason (she could hear the TV, which is impossible unless they kept the window open all day which is unlikely with the season, plus her conclusion of them being the worst sort of Muggles is only possible if she actually HEARD their exchanges, realistically -- unless she knows details of Lily’s relationship with Petunia, already). Dumbledore arrives, alone, that night, AFTER the Dursleys have gone to bed, so presumably it’s after 10pm (again, where has he been that Minerva couldn’t contact him all day (patroni messaging? Owls seem pretty fast, too), and has been staking him out by the Dursley home?) They have a strange interaction that confirms that she only knows rumours about the entire situation with the Potters and Voldemort -- despite her having talked to Hagrid, which could have only happened AFTER he picked up baby Harry. It also confirms she doesn’t know WHY Albus was there, so her spying on the Dursleys makes no sense, as does her being positioned specifically in front of their house (unless Hagrid specifically mentioned their home, rather than the street?). Does she not question why the hell Dumbledore would go there specifically, considering the rumours (especially if Hagrid mentioned the specific house)? She seems both surprised and appalled when Dumbledore mentions leaving Harry with the Dursleys, which is very odd.

(And if by "rumours" Minerva means what Hagrid said, why doesn't she just say Hagrid?? She’s obviously implying the Wizarding rumours by the rowdy partiers that have been going on/around all day.)

That being said, she gives in surprisingly after a token protest, almost suspiciously so, considering her initial frame of mind. (also, Dumbledore, really? Why do you assume he’ll be bad-off if he grows up with fame? 'It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?' Presumably, he didn’t want him to end up like James, but why not leave him with someone like the Weasleys? Happy childhood, but he’d be taught the values of family and humility, plus he’d be less alien to the wizarding world, and he’d have slow exposure to his fame, not be dropped in the deep end. Not to mention, James turned out well in the end, as far as we know. Additionally, at this point, the Longbottoms would still have been a viable option -- presumably, they were friendly enough with the Potters, due to being part of the same organization. There were plenty of viable options in the wizarding world. This really gives credence to both senile and manipulative!Dumbledore theories. Additionally, it’s rather unlikely that Dumbledore and Minerva didn’t know at least a bit about Lily’s relationship with Petunia, surely.) Additionally, Dumbledore’s comment about not intending to remove Harry’s scar even if he could is rather ridiculous, considering it would link in so profusely to his fame in future (considering the reason he gives for leaving Harry with Muggles in the first place). Gives a vague sense he might know of the Horcrux already (as he implies it’s impossible and/or shouldn’t be removed).

After this, Harry is left on the DOORSTEP with a letter and a fucking blanket in the middle of the night in Autumn. He could’ve walked off? Death Eaters are still presumably at large, disregarding the likelihood of him being found (due to it being a relatively random Muggle neighbourhood, as far as Voldemort’s people are concerned. Though Point Me spells are still a thing. Unless the Blood Wards are already active?). Also, the neighbors could've noticed a kid on a doorstep? Minerva seems like the reasonable one, considering her protests, but she never mentions anything about him being left there. She never checks on him after they Apparate away, either, despite the fact that it wouldn’t take much time or effort to do so.  Why couldn’t they have left Harry specifically with his relatives, make sure he at least made it THERE safely. Maybe Dumbledore suspects their attitude, and doesn’t want Minerva to see, and go against him, take Harry away? They could have even raised him in Hogwarts if they had the desire to work on it, bloody hell.

She also doesn't ask Harry about his home life in First year, not even a "I left you there ten years ago, just making sure it was the right decision, because I had some second thoughts".

On a completely different note, the prologue also kind of confirms Wizards are idiots and the Ministry/Hogwarts kind of has issues -- I’m honestly surprised at all the recklessness the wizarding world displayed on the 1st, and that they weren’t discovered. I bet the Obliviators had a field day.

This took way too long to figure out. Also, a lot of what we thought is book canon isn’t. Apparently there’s no evidence of Snape being in Godric’s Hollow in the books on the night, and even if he is, no clue where to stick it in the timeline.

[yi-dashi-a]

//The first P-P-P-P-Public Transport Drabble in a while, I think? Needed to purge the dumb creative writing assignment from uni from my system with some Yi Parent fluff. Nothing better than writing about two dead ass people, amirite?

  Something something spending all that time hunting Jhin makes a Wuju Master a sappy boy, especially when you see so many families get fricked off while you’re away from your own. Sad wife also, because the other side of the equation is complicated too.

Dearest and Most Esteemed Mystic,

I write to you in the hopes that this letter finds you in the best of health. Better health, hopefully, than caring for me with your ceaseless devotion would have you in. Zhyun weather treats us all well, but the demon of the lands terrorizes the people still. I dare not to recount the things I’ve seen in my wandering, but let it be known that I am reminded every day of you, our own family, and the safety and sanctity we enjoy where others do not. Though we take no part in active investigation anymore, we at least hope our coordinated efforts with the Kinkou shall end these predations soon.

But to you, my wife, I say with certainty: Not a day goes by that I don’t see a flower, tree, bird in the sky, or even the aesthetic dance of shadow that doesn’t remind me of your boundless beauty, grace, and every redeeming quality I’ve been in awe of for the last forty years of my life. None of these compare to that which you encapsulate of course, and you might even think me senile if I see you in all places like I do. But, I suppose, I simply miss you, Huan. I’m refreshed by the chance to travel, but it’s nothing but a chore without you by my side. I’ve been pressing flowers, as the land allows, so I hope these will bring some of this adventure back to you.

I’m composing a play, in fact, about this entire ordeal. Writing things down when my Master isn’t around to chide me. Nothing of the blood and sorrow of these lands selfishly, but of a demon who sought to keep loves apart, and who thwarts his letters with ill thoughts. I’ll have your name remembered somehow, Huan. I’d weep if it went unrecorded to history like so many other wives of Wuju Masters. Hopefully, when I return, you’ll like it enough to watch me put drum beats and dance steps to the story?

With a heavy heart though, I must close this letter, for I only have so much parchment with which to write. I know you much prefer these trinkets than the personal ways we have always communicated at distance, so keep this well if you so desire. Burn it otherwise. Do whatever it is that makes you feel better. I look forward always to the day which I return to your side.

Always, and always,

Yi Chao

Always, and always.

That was, funnily enough, how he always signed his letters. Always with some reaffirmation of their life long bond, and then the always, and always. It made her giddy, in a teenage lover sort of fashion. Even if most would call her elderly, his words had their way of resting upon her heart and revitalizing her spirit. She hugged the ragged letter close to her chest, hoping the words would imprint on her forevermore. Though as if the writing was tactile to her, her fingers on the back face of the parchment noted a discrepancy in texture. When she turned the pages over, her brow raised as she scanned what appeared to be odd notation. Something she thought she should recognise, yet the meaning escaped her.

“Chao, your ways astound me, at times.” She remarked to herself, not braced for a reply,

“They astound me too, if I’m honest.” A gasp left her before her cordial nature could suppress it, and she recoiled from the source a moment before she could take the man in properly. In all her reading, she hadn’t felt illusion sweep her away,

“Chao!”

“Good evening, Wushi Mu.” He offered with the slightest smile, a warm expression that only grew when she leapt for him with arms out wide. Though there was a fantastical quality to his visage -- he felt more like a plush toy than a man of flesh and magical prowess -- she took him in her embrace all the same.

“This isn’t fair, Chao.” She whined into his chest, “I’ve told you, don’t use your telepathy unannounced. It’ll make me cry.”

“I’m sorry.” He laughed, of all things, “I just had a twinge in my mind. I felt it across Ionia. You were reading a letter of mine and feeling sad. I couldn’t help myself.”

“And I can’t help myself either, Wushi Fu.” Finally, Huan rose from the depths of her embrace, looking up to the man and his forever creased featured, hoping he didn’t notice the new wrinkles on her own, “You write me such niceties, and they both satiate my heart and hollow it. I’ll miss you so long as you’re gone. It can’t be helped.”

“Soon, I’m hoping...” He took in a deep breath, though never seemed to sigh it out again, “If we don’t resolve the matter soon, there won’t be any more people left in Zhyun to slaughter. It becomes more uncomfortable the less we’re able to help, though the Kinkou and their students seem sympathetic to our efforts as they become more exposed to the things we’ve been dealing with for years.”

“Years...” The word just came out, like a silent prayer to the Stars and All that another year wouldn’t pass her by alone. In her mind as he was, his expression saddened with hers, the weight of loneliness threatening to crush them both.

“Soon, Huan. I promise.” Chao said it, but the reality of how unsure he was echoed within their private quarters, “I’m trying my hardest.”

“Saving lives...”

“Yes...”

In equal parts remorse and sympathy, they stood there a time in the comfort of each other’s arms. How selfish she felt, that she wanted for more than just this. Most weren’t so lucky to be magically inclined, and fewer to be so gifted from birth. The fact she could hold him at all, even in her mind, should have been enough.

Yet it was never enough. How selfish she was.

“Oh, I must ask.” Words came back to her in time, and she elected to make them the most passing of conversation, “What is this notation on the back of your most recent letter? Should it be something I can understand?” His brow quirked a moment, but in time it morphed to realization, then another rare smile.

“I must have forgotten and written on some parchment I was using. It’s music. A composition I’d been working on, for my cover. Let me go a moment.” She complied, reluctantly, and he spirited away from her with the grace of a half step. The Wuju Master stood apart from her, heels together, and with the flourish of an invisible veil his clothes morphed before her eyes. From the robes of a Master, to the patchwork furs of some traveller. There were colourful patches and adornments in his poncho here or there, with bells and beads to accent, and even the odd accents of face paint to his person. Most interestingly though, was the long necked, stringed instrument that lay slung over his shoulder, like nothing she’d ever seen before.

“Master and I travel as a pair, regrettably.” Chao began, retrieving the instrument just as it came to her mind, the bow of the thing resting in his other hand, “But he was receptive enough to ensure that, when in cover, we travel as a bardic pair. It at least brings some joy to people as the Demon lurks, and it’s given me the chance to pick up this.”  He drew the bow across it idly then, with earthly deep sounds filling the wooden space, “I didn’t think I’d have much interest in stringed instruments, and I’m not sure I do now. But it was all the Zhyunian council could lend to me, so I’ve been composing instead of sleeping, as of late.”

“I’m happy for you!” She proclaimed, palms clasped, “Despite the circumstance, I’m happy you can do something creative with yourself.”

“And my Master only protests in the slightest.” The smile, this time, was a gorgeous thing to see. Any smile when talking of his father was a blessing, “But all this talk of me. I’m not partial to it. I want to hear of what you’ve been up to. Of how our children’s families fare… and how much our son squanders our influence while I’m not there to scold him.”

“These things can wait until my letter arrives in your fingertips.” Huan replied, tapping her nose with a finger and drawing closer again, “Right now I have you in front of me, with all your embellishments, and a piece of music no less.” She waved the parchment before him, notation his way, “You can’t expect me not to ask you to play?”

“I’m not very good, you know.” Chao retorted, though she immediately shook her head,

“Nonsense.”

“I play if only to supplement my story telling. I merely hope that people listen to the story more than the music.”

“Then tell me a story. Please, Chao.” She retreated to her lonely sleeping mat, sitting upon it astutely. His brow quirked in a particular way, but she just sat there waiting.

“Huan…” He offered in time, before he shook his head, “You’ll not rest until I’ve made an embarrassment of myself.”

“It’s just you, and me, and that strange instrument of yours, Poet. There is plenty we could do or say, but I just want to see you play.”

“Is it you who is the poet, or is it I?” They both shared in a laugh, but with no other place to go all the man could do was sit and play.

And what did he have to worry about? This wasn’t real. All of this was an illusion brought forth in her mind by his magic. If he so wished, ever note could have been one sent by the Stars, so divine that she would never hear another one better until he drew the bow back again. But he was honest with her, and for that she enjoyed the music so much more. There were mistakes, and notes where his fingers didn’t quite hit the mark of where the note should lie, but the fact it was him made it special. He told not much of a story in the end, just content in focusing on how his hands manipulated the two strings.

She could have let him go on with the sliding tones and deep, chaotic rhythms of the strange thing that looked only like a bowl with strings attached, but such wasn’t meant to be. Even he, with his eyes closed and rocking motions entranced by the sound, seemed content to continue until an interruption stayed him. Movement caught Huan’s eye, right in her peripherals, of a flourishing doorway curtain.

“Mother, Father…” Groaned a young woman, eyes heavy with the time of night and an infant protesting under her robes, “It’s good to see you, and to hear you, but if you’re going to do things like this, please be considerate for your children that are just as sensitive to your mind games as Mama.”

“Er… Good evening, Feng.” Said the man, stopping dead in his melodies,

“Good evening…” She grumbled, “Please do things like this when mothers with babies don’t have to sleep?”

“I’ll be more particular with my mentalism next time. I’m sorry.”

With that, she grumbled off, baby still babbling unawares at her breast. The parents merely exchanged glances for a time, before both of them summoned a grin.

“What a beautiful family we have.” He commented on a mumble, leaving his instrument on the floor.

“Careful. Such compliments might keep people up at night.” Huan chuckled.

“I hope they do, in part.” He replied, “It’s not often I’m of a mind to give compliments… but perhaps I must keep the recital for the rare moment I have time during the day?”

“Just hold me, before you go, Chao?”

And he did, this time with more weight behind his skin. The man might as well have been there as she held his image as tight as she could. Yet with a kiss to her forehead, her grip slowly became filled with just air. Quietly, he and his sounds, his music, and peculiarities, faded away, and all she had left of him was the parchment penned in his hand. She hugged it, then, harder than she knew she was able. Hoping that, as he returned to his own consciousness, he’d feel her embrace all away across Ionia. Damn the Demons, and damn the politics.

All she wanted was her family to be whole again…

[thegnasticious]

Mrs. Cozsio

I am mortified of Witches. Despite my family’s insistence that they are not real and it is in my head, I still look out for that long, Grey gangly hair and that Green skin. Much of this fear began when these old ladies would follow my me and my mother around the supermarket. They never looked well, but they didn’t have Green skin or glowing eyes. I could see them sneaking from aisle to aisle constantly eyeing us, acting like they were looking at something. Then when we would pass by they would try to touch me real quick, I looked up once and I could swear the ladie’s eyes were glowing purple. Another time we passed, and the lady said to my Mother, “You better raise it well or it’ll end trapped in one”, then cackled a sickly laugh. That day my Mother waited before turning the car on and said something about them finally, “Peter, honey, if you ever see those women anywhere else, you leave immediately, I will not speak of this again”. 

I couldn’t place it but the Old Women following us gave me a feeling that they wanted to take me away. It didn’t seem like where they wanted to take me to was a good place. I also got the feeling that my Mother knew much more about them then what she was saying, but as much as I pestered her, she would not tell me who they were or where they were coming from, she just told me to stay away from them. One day I bothered her to a point that she said, “You would be food to them. Notice how they never have a cart or food in a supermarket? They are looking to eat you right up!”. I’m not sure if any of that was true, but I definitely thought twice about looking in their glowing eyes after that.

As we were driving back home that day, we saw the next-door neighbor Mrs. Cozsio outside. She was doing her daily ritual of dumping loads of un-bagged garbage in her front lawn. Long since senile, her dear husband widowed her by trying to blow himself up with their last car. Supposedly he caused a combustion in the gas chamber in hopes of detonating the car like a bomb right in front of himself. He was partially successful but burned most of his body. Not shortly thereafter he tried to jump into the local quarry, subsequently paralyzing himself after getting caught on a branch on the way down. It took a rescue team 5-10 hours to get him off it. It was at this point he was put in a home, and Mrs. Cozsio was left to live her days alone in a small house. This story I was of course told later in life as when I was a kid then, she was the weird old lady next door and that’s about all I knew of her. 

For some reason my Mom decided to try and help Mrs. Cozsio that day. She got out of the car and walked up to the trash and told Mrs. Cozsio, “I can help you with this”. Mrs. Cozsio looked at her with a dumbed stare, behind thick pained glasses. She was expressionless, as if she heard nothing at all. Then she bolted inside. My Mom turned to me and held her hands up, signifying “What can I do?”, more or less. Mrs. Cozsio returned outside with a broom. My Mother looked relieved as it would help cleaning some of the cans off the street. Mrs. Cozsio’s intentions seemed to be otherwise as she approached my Mom and started beating her over the head with the broom for no apparent reason. My Mom shielded herself from her broom barrage and ran to the car, Mrs. Cozsio chasing after. Then Mrs. Cozsio then came to my side of the car and started knocking on the window and giving this completely psychotic face. The ignition turned and we sped off. I watched her stomp around the street, and throw her broom. “The lady is crazy, she doesn’t understand what a garbage can is”, my Mom said.

After talking with my Father about it at dinner that night, we decided that we as a family would stay out of her yard, and hopefully things would get better. That particular week was also when I discovered the tale of Hansel and Gretel. I found it in a corner of the old library in town. I never quite understood the point of it, as they were eaten. Unless I got a wrong copy or something, they never quite made it out in the first rendition I read of it. I’ve never read that version again either. But I remember wondering what the point was, the story even had an illustration of a fat, fat witch at the end. 

I started watching Mrs. Cozsio out the front window. She would throw garbage about her yard all day, and an wildlife that would enter the yard, she would knock away with a broom. You could see her talking to herself continuously about nothing at all. I began to wonder if someday that’s how we all end up. Old and crazy. At night she would go down and turn on a basement light you could see from the side of our house. It made this weird glow in our kitchen so you’d know when she was down there. What was she doing down there? 

One night the glow didn’t start and I hadn’t seen her around all day. So I went outside and sat on the curb with a few action figures by myself. I was sitting there playing with the toys when I heard a rustling behind me from this big Oak tree we had in front of the house. I turned around and saw a thick blackness, like a dis-attached shadow. I breathed, and bits of the shadow grew towards me. It tasted like sulfur and methane. “You’ve been watching me boy?”, it said. “No, I haven’t been watching nobody”, I said and it started cackling. Something grabbed me hard around the neck, and I couldn’t breathe. I gasped and everything turned to darkness.

A light clicked on and I awoke. I could hear the electricity humming above. A rustling then came from the back of a dark, dark room. I saw that shadow grow again, and I started crying. I tried to lift my hands, but they were tied behind a bolted metal chair. I thought of Hansel and Gretel and how they never really got home. I thought of my Mother waking up and realizing I was gone. I could see a certain void and I was only a little boy. The rustling in the back of the room grew to a noise of pots and pans being slammed and cabinets and drawers alike. I couldn’t quite see where the noise was coming from, but it grew into a shrill, and traveled towards me. As it did, I heard a sort of high-pitched scream in my head that turned to a deep voice, “I’ve brought you here for dinner”, it said. The lightbulb flickered above and a bowl came floating from the darkness in front of me. As the bowl neared my face I made out what looked to be worms, cockroaches, maggots, fly’s, slugs, all moving about still. A force constrained my head back and opened my mouth. The bowl then tipped into my mouth, I could feel the squirms and junts of the insects as they entered. “Eat....Eat.....for I am hungry”, the voice said. Then there was darkness again.

I woke up back in my bed and my stomach was killing. I tried to ignore the pain, but my head just started pounding. I felt like I had to leave my room, I went outside and my mom was waiting out in the hall. “Honey are you alright?”, she said. I looked at her and cupped my hands over my mouth. Two seconds later it all came up, right on her new jeans and socks. Squirming worms and insects of all types. I looked down and heard her scream, within seconds I passed out.

I could then see Mrs. Cozsio. I could see the garbage in the front lawn, the broom unattended. I could see people coming up to do a wellness check-up. I saw them finding her in her kitchen preparing something. She tells them that she has been hungry lately and hasn’t had the money for food, and offers them a bowl of assorted insects she has been living off in the basement. They tell her they want to see the basement immediately and she blocks them from the door. They move her out of the way and constrain her. She screams the worst scream, as they enter the basement to find the skeletons of twenty-two different kids that went missing around town. They estimate she was living off of cannibalism for at least 2-3 years and her husband ended up ultimately revealing this secret before his demise in Psych-ward care.

As far as I knew then, I woke up in a hospital and had a bad flu. When I returned home, I noticed all the garbage was gone from Mrs. Cozsio’s yard. I asked my Mom where she went and she said, “I’ve never known a Mrs. Cozsio, ever”.

It was only until years later that I went back to the same supermarket with a nice girl I met and was dating. I hadn’t been there since the whole Mrs. Cozsio thing incidentally, and we were in line to get lunch meat when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and it was a little old lady who looked exactly like a cleaned up Mrs. Cozsio. She had a nice dress, nice glasses, not like the thick ones I remembered. She held out a cake and asked me if it would be good for her son’s birthday. I couldn’t get words out of my mouth, like my tongue grew two sizes. I couldn’t explain it but I couldn’t answer. My better half tried to answer but we were called to get some lunchmeat, we turned to say something to the deli lady, and then the old woman disappeared. I actually scrapped the order and looked around for the old woman, to no avail. As far as I know, Mrs. Cozsio never had any children of her own