#people cross the doorway and Know Something Is Wrong but the magic in the shop eases them out of the fear so it’s a weird experience

[little-pondhead]

[unedited. In this, I gave Danny a walking cane to help with mobility issues caused by his nerve damage. Feel free to continue where I left off!]

Everyone knew about the coffee shop. They couldn’t remember the name. It’s been there forever, on the corner of Gotham Proper and the East End. Northwest of the opera house. A few blocks away from the high school. You know, that coffee shop.

Some of the seniors at the high school insisted it really did have a name. It was one of many in some corporate chain. They couldn’t tell you what it was no matter how hard they tried, and none of the freshman believed them. Why would the coffee shop need a name? Everyone knew where it was. It was a popular spot. There were only a few employees at a time, but they always knew what everyone wanted and the line was always super short from how fast they worked.

There were a few odd things that always stood out, however. The coffee shop was always ahead in food trends and popular drinks, so they never ran out of supplies. The kitchen had been expanding to fit more equipment than what a coffee shop needed. (The construction crew didn’t make a peep, even in the middle of the work day.) Those few employees that could cook prided themselves on being able to make anything you wanted, even if they shouldn’t logically have the ingredients on hand. They always charged you what you could afford and not a cent over, which seemed weird considering it was part of a chain. Shouldn’t they be focusing on profits? But no one had ever met the local owner, and no one had any complaints about it, so the issue was left alone.

All of these points were easy to look over. Most people were just glad to have a warm drink and a filling meal at the end of the day.

There was…one more thing, however. Something that caused the hairs on people’s necks to rise as soon as they crossed the threshold, right before the warmth of the shop hit them, brushing the feeling away. Something that called for them to come back, to relax, to be kind and quiet. Something that was a waiting danger in a cursed city.

That something was a boy.

He was by far the youngest employee there, and always worked the register, sitting on a little stool with a cane by his side. Probably wasn’t even of legal working age. But this was Gotham; who the hell cared?

No, what made him strange was his piercing eyes that seemed to look straight into your soul. He was the best at telling you what you needed, no matter if you knew it yourself or not. His cold hands made people shiver as he exchanged money with them, and his voice was smooth when he asked for their name.

People gave it to him without hesitation. He would smile gently, say thank you, and write the name in horrible cursive on a cup or kitchen ticket, never misspelling it, and sending it back to be made before beckoning the next customer forward. The first time someone experienced this, they usually experienced some sort of foggy overstimulation as they wandered to the pick up counter, thanking the kind baristas. Everything felt bright and strange and loud, like they were just plopped into another world.

The second time was easier, and they often felt light as a feather. The third time made people sneeze. The fourth made them cry, and the fifth made them happy. This tended to go on up until a person’s twelfth visit. As soon as they gave their name for the twelfth time, a few things clicked into place, and a few slipped away. It was always a special visit, whether they knew it or not, and they never walked out of there the same.

Today was Tim’s twelfth visit.

The commute to the coffee shop was the same. He’d memorized it months ago, even though he hadn’t had the chance to go as often as he’d liked. The shop was always neat and tidy on the outside, and he took a strange comfort in the split second feeling of fear that shot through his system as he opened the door.

Something felt wrong, why was he happy to be afraid?

“Hello! Nice to see you, Tim!” The boy was at the counter again, smiling widely and waving to Tim.

Tim smiled back and approached the register. “Hey, uh, how are you today?”

Why don’t I know his name? He’s wearing a name tag.

“Doing okay so far. My cane was being an ass, but I made it to work safely.” The boy tapped away at the menu, apparently ringing up Tim’s order.

I haven’t even told him what I want.

“Don’t worry about what you want, this is what you need, Tim.”

“Oh, okay.” Tim felt a little floaty. Of course the boy knew what he needed, it was obvious. Man, how tired was he? Tim rubbed his eyes and turned away for a second.

Blinking, he scanned the shop with fresh eyes, noticing things he never did before. The boy’s cane was made of wood, with an ugly face carved into it. Wasn’t it a black metal cane earlier? Some of the windows were casting rainbows despite the lack of sun. It smelled of ash despite no fireplace existing. A jackhammer was going off in the unfinished kitchen literally thirty feet away, but no noise was being made and no dust was in the air.

Something isn’t right.

The boy poked his arm, a cheeky grin on his face and a blue marker in hand. “Can I have your name?”

“Tim.”

A violent shiver ran up his spine as his name rolled off his tongue. It felt like he just got shoved to the side by a gust of cold wind. The boy-Danny-didn’t notice as he stuck his tongue out and drew little shaky stars around his name on a cup.

His name is Danny. That’s what the name tag says.

He blinked, moving to the side in a daze so the next customer could come forward. Were the lights in the shop always so bright? No, it wasn’t the lights. It was Danny. He practically glowed under the cheap fluorescent. His ears were pointed, and his teeth were sharp as he bared silly grins at everyone. His eyes were green now, too. Or were they always green?

They weren’t.

A barista behind Danny turned to grab a lid and he spied sparkling dragonfly wings cascading down her back, right out in the open. Another had longer ears than Danny did, and a third had actual metal disks braided into their hair. Almost everyone behind the counter was very much not human.

Why didn’t I notice this before?

The shop changed, too. Artistic scribbles on the walls became lines of swirling script-the same kind Danny had written on his name tag. He would need a notebook and a few days to properly read it all. More and more customers seemed to warp behind his very eyes. Every time Danny greeted them by name, they both glowed a little brighter. One little girl had scales on her face. An old man was sporting a pair of rat ears that twitched as he enjoyed a grilled cheese.

His skin suddenly felt itchy. He scratched absentmindedly at his hand, a little unsure of what was going on. He had the sudden urge to go stargazing.

“Hot chocolate for [ ]!”

His feet were moving before he realized. The barista smiled as she handed him a to-go cup of hot chocolate and a bag with a blueberry muffin.

I don’t want a hot chocolate. I need coffee. I have a meeting later.

As if hearing that tiny thought, Danny smiled mischievously to him and waved as he took his food and left. “It’s not about what you want; it’s about what you need! You’re gonna crush that meeting either way. See you next time, Tim!”

The itching got worse.

He felt his neck hairs raise again as the bell chimed, announcing his departure. Stepping back into the hustle and bustle of Gotham shocked him, and he had to wander over to a bench to sit for a moment.

He stared at the cup in his hands. T I M was written, with shitty little stars drawn all around. This drink was special, he somehow knew. If he drank from this, something in him would change forever. It already had, but this drink was important. He considered, briefly, about not drinking it. About tossing the cocoa and muffin away. Something wiggled at him to go through with it.

But Danny said he needed this.

Danny was always right.

He sipped the cocoa, letting the hot liquid settle into his body and soul. It eased aches and pains he didn’t remember getting, and he sighed, closing his eyes. He lost himself to the moment of peace the drink gave him.

If this wasn’t his twelfth visit, or if he’d waited a day to visit the coffee shop and come with the Laughing Magician instead, the boy on the bench would still know what his own name looked like. He would know what it sounded like. He wouldn’t be glowing and growing feathers, turning into something other than human.

But now the deed was done, and the heir to the Drake family belonged to Danny Phantom, the newest Lord to join Gotham’s magical courts.

Danny is a Fae at Starbucks

So! Danny works by Fae Rules, Names and all, but he has no idea about that because he was forced to run away from Home (and the Ghost portal) before his Ghostly Education could be completed.

He runs to Gotham and eventually gets a job at Starbucks, or some other Cafe.

He has to ask the question "Could I get your name please?" A LOT while working there. And unintentionally steals hundreds of Names by the end of his first day, much less a week or a month into his job.

One day, Constantine visits Gotham for a Meeting with Batman, but by the time he gets to the Meeting Point he has bigger issues to discuss.

"Why the hell does half of your City belong to a Fae Lord?!"

[therealvinelle]

in the “everyone is in love with Bella” scenario, what about the wolves? Wouldn’t it be really fucked up for Sam to fall in love with her? Would it make the wolves try to redefine imprinting? how would Leah react to the whole situation?

Anon is referring to this post. For the record, I didn't get into them in the post because the plot would veer so far off-course in Twilight that Edward never leaves and Victoria never becomes a threat to Bella, meaning Bella and Jake don't get close and she doesn't need their protection.

But, let's do this.

First encounter

Bella arrives in Forks, and Billy and Jacob are there to hand over the pickup.

Boom.

They fall in love.

Jacob, having never had a real crush before nevermind something so powerful as falling in love, is overwhelmed by these new feelings. He blushes and flushes and stutters, and fails to say anything reasonable or even intelligble to Bella. Too mortified to function, he decides to hide in La Push until the embarrassment fades. Which very well could be never.

Billy, meanwhile, is unable to cope. He just fell in love with Charlie's daughter. Charlie's 17-year-old daughter who used to make mud cakes with Billy's daughters.

This is bad.

This, to a good man like Billy, is unforgivably bad.

He goes from being Charlie's best friend to suddenly being very distant, not wanting to ever cross paths with Bella again.

But, you asked about the wolves, not just Jake and Billy, so let's take this scenario further.

Bella's friends, all of whom are hopelessly in love with her, drag her to La Push

Jessica, Lauren, Mike, Angela, Tyler, Eric, Ben, the whole gang, they're all going to La Push for the weekend.

And it just won't be the same without Bella. She's just so great, you know?

Everyone looks at each other and nods. Yeah, it's just not fun without Bella. Bella's great, someone should invite her.

They all invite her, one by one, all of them with wide, adoring eyes. "It would be so amazing if you came, Bella," Jessica says dreamily, twirling a lock of Bella's hair around her fingers. "Your hair is really pretty," she giggles.

Angela and Ben are each blushing too hard to really say anything to Bella, so they end up running away from her. Bella is left feeling like some kind of freak. She later receives two notes in class, one from each, begging her in cramped writing to come to La Push. Yeah, not helping her feel like less of a freak.

Mike, Eric, Tyler, and Lauren all corner her, each worse than the last.

By the end of the schoolday Bella doesn't know what's going to happen at La Push but she does know that she doesn't want to go.

She complains about this to the Cullens (remember, her and Edward became an item much earlier in this timeline), and they all fawn and coo over her and act like she just went through a warzone. If she wants to go to the beach, she could try Isle Esme Bella. Would she like that, an island vacation? Or an island?

Bella is pulled out of school for a romantic two-week totally-not-a-honeymoon.

La Push never happens.

But surely Bella and the wolves must meet at some point

Billy catches wind that Bella Swan is dating Edward Cullen. As in, the girl he has fallen so deeply in love with is now being preyed upon by a blood-sucking demon.

Billy's own sense of propriety or honor be damned, he has to save this girl's life.

He tries to speak to her, just as in canon, but just as in canon this goes poorly. Bella is a savvy 17-year-old who doesn't need no warning, and besides, the Cullens are all so sweet. They're like hobbits, really, obviously she's not in any danger. She tells Billy as much. Vampires are lovely, does he know they gave her an island?

(Billy did not know this, and yes, that's weird. Doesn't mean they're not evil, though.)

Billy gets nowhere with his would-be intervention.

Time to bring in the big guns.

Sam phases around this time, and imprints on Emily. Break-ups with Leah, maulings, and tragic lovestories all around are had.

It is around this time that Billy brings Sam up to speed on the Bella situation, although leaving out the part where he's hopelessly in love with the girl because that would not be received well. Could Sam go speak with her about this, see if maybe she will take his warning seriously? The situation is dire.

Sure, Sam can do that. No one wants a human girl to get eaten or turned, after all.

Sam goes to see Bella.

And promptly falls in love just as he did Emily.

Emily, who is currently in the hospital from Sam mauling her, which happened specifically because Sam had imprinted.

It's official, Sam thinks, he's the greatest scumbag there ever was.

The Emily and Leah situation was awful enough as it was, breaking all three of their hearts and causing irreparable damage both physically and mentally. Sam wronged them both colossaly, and he can never amend that.

But he imprinted. He wasn't just being a douchebag, actual magic made him do it.

Now, though...

Either Sam imprinted on multiple people, in which case his happy ending is now polygamy. And how would that be a happy ending for Emily and Bella?

Or, possibly even more terrifying yet, he didn't imprint on either woman.

Breaking up with Leah, mauling Emily, making Emily fall in love with him after that and ruining her relationship with her cousin, in short putting these women through hell, all of it- it was for nothing. Sam's just a horndog who sees supernatural intervention where there's really just hormones.

Why couldn't he just have imprinted on Leah?

Sam can't go on a sabbatical to figure this out, his tribe needs him. So he takes to living in the woods alone, where he is alone, to try and figure this out.

But it gets more painful yet, because he can't just disappear on Emily.

So, he tells her. He owes her that much. And it's not goodbye forever, either, just- goodbye until he can figure out how to be the man she deserves. A man anybody deserves, really, because right now Sam's not it.

Emily has no idea what to make of any of this, but she knows her heart is broken.

She has to see this woman all of this is about.

Naturally, she falls in love as well.

The plot thickens

The next time Sam drops by, Emily gives him the news. They're both in love with Bella now.

Sam no longer knows what to make of anything.

Is the universe trying to tell them to form a polycule?

Nothing like that has ever happened before, but not much is known about imprinting. There's a first time for everything..?

At this point they're both giving themselves headaches trying to figure this out. It's a mess.

More, Bella hasn't even met either of them. Sam and Emily can't just walk up to her and say "Hi, be our wife".

Or can they?

If Emily fell in love at first sight, maybe it'll work in reverse. Maybe Bella just has to look upon them, and she'll fall in love.

Sam is dubious, but at this point let's just do this. Let's just do this, see what happens.

They walk up to Charlie's to deliver some of Harry's fish fry. Bella opens the door.

"HIIIII" Emily says, trying to act normal.

Sam's not saying anything.

"Hi," Bella says back, nonplussed, and looks at the bag Emily is clutching with white-knuckled fists.

All three of them are silent.

Bella is starting to wonder if there's something with the town water supply. She is also wondering if these people are planning to say anything, or if they just really enjoy knocking on doors and saying hi to people. Is there something Bella should be doing?

Eventually she clears er throat and asks if there's anything she can do for them.

Sam and Emily glance at each other. Bella's not looking starstruck with love, but she's not acting normal either. Who stands in a doorway and stares at people for almost a minute before talking?

It's inconclusive.

Emily hands over the fish fry. "From Harry," she says, and introduces herself.

Bella nods, remembering Charlie's friend who all but ran out of the door when he saw her and hasn't been fishing with Charlie since. None of Charlie's friends have. Charlie is going nuts. Maybe she should try hooking him up with Carlisle, vampires are lovely, they'd get along so well.

Bella, noting Emily and Sam aren't saying anything else, says bye and moves to close the door.

"Wait!" Sam yells, at the same time as Emily rips a piece of paper from her pocket, and sticks it into Bella's hand.

Bella looks down on it. It's two phone numbers.

She looks back up at Sam and Emily, who by now feel quite certain that this girl hasn't fallen in love with them and that this is the most humiliating moment of both their lives.

Just in case, though...

"Call us," Emily says flirtatiously, winks, and runs away.

Sam follows.

Bella never calls them back, and they never speak of this again.

A few months later, Leah who’d been shopping in Forks happily tells Sam and Emily that she's fallen in love with a girl, she lives in Forks, she's amazing, her name is Bella Swan.

"I took one look at her, and I knew," Leah says dreamily.

[restlessfandoming]

"you, my enemy" (chilumi oneshot)

Lumine must assassinate the cruel king of Snezhnaya, Ajax.

//

i could see this being turned into a full fledged fic? but for now, here is the dollar store version LOL

[Masterlist] [AO3 Link]

"you, my enemy"

“I want you to kill the king of Snezhnaya.”

Lumine’s eyes flickered to her client. “King Ajax?”

“There is only one, is there not?” the hooded man responded.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You must have the wrong person,” she said. “I do run-of-the-mill jobs. I don’t murder kings.”

“I was told you were the only mercenary who could do it.”

Lumine slid out of the bar booth. “Find someone else who is insane enough to do that. I value my life.”

The man’s arm shot out, grabbing Lumine by the wrist. She would have sliced it clean off, had the man not taken off his hood.

He had an unmistakable hue of scarlet red hair, with equally fiery eyes to match.

“You’re Diluc,” Lumine said. “The son of the slain King Ragvindr.” It’s never a good idea to get involved with royals.

His face wavered at the mention of his father. “And who was the one who murdered him?”

“King Ajax,” she answered. “That sounds like your own quest for vengeance. Not mine.”

Diluc pulled her closer. “Magic,” he whispered.

Lumine’s blood ran cold. “Magic?” she echoed hollowly.

“I’ve been trying to find the right person to do this for a long time,” he told her. “I had to do my research.”

“What does magic have to do with this?” Lumine asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“You use magic,” Diluc stated. “That’s how you’ve completed every single one of your assignments perfectly.”

Magic had been banished long ago, a witch hunt massacring any and all magic users within the land of Teyvat. Each of the seven kingdoms had decreed it, agreeing that those with magic were too powerful—a threat to the people, all people.

Ever since, the rare few born with magical powers were forced to hide away their abilities for survival. I thought Aether and I hid it well enough.

“You do this, I won’t report you to the authorities,” Diluc continued.

“What about you?” Lumine hissed. “You’re supposed to be dead with the rest of your family.” She shook off his grip. “If I report you to King Ajax, there’s no doubt I’d get a hefty reward, more than you could ever give me for murdering him.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. “If there’s any suspicion of a magic user, what sort of action do the authorities take?”

You’re killed on the spot—no questions asked. The kingdoms didn’t want to run any risk of magic users rising up, no matter how small of a threat.

“We would be executed at the same time,” Diluc said lowly.

Shit.

Lumine sat back down in the booth, sinking into the seat, gnawing on the side of her cheek. Then, she took a deep breath in.

“You’ll give me every single piece of Mora you have,” she demanded.

Diluc’s face visibly relaxed. “Of course.” He crossed his arms. “The hidden vaults of my family are all yours: every single jewel, Mora, artifact—when you complete the job.”

Lumine’s mouth nearly watered at the prospect of all the riches.

No, she wasn’t greedy. That amount of Mora meant she and her twin brother Aether could retire from this life, this life of scraping by with the money they made from bloody bounties and assassinations. It was the only job they could do, being abandoned as children, having to learn to fend for themselves.

This one job meant she and Aether could have quiet peace until the end of their days.

She held out her hand to Diluc.

“You have a deal.”

* * *

When Lumine arrives in Snezhnaya, she expects impoverished villages, famished citizens, and cold, desecrated lands—all while this merciless, vile king sat on his throne of bones and riches.

However, what she finds are bustling streets of business and cheerful citizens. Children played freely on the streets. The kingdom was thriving.

Is this king truly as evil as the stories say?

It hadn’t been long since King Ajax had begun his crusade of conquering the entirety of Teyvat. It had started with his brutal assassination of his own ruler at the time, the slaying of the late Tsaritsa, quickly followed by his claim to the throne. Then, he had taken over the small country of Mondstadt, and Liyue fell shortly after.

Any who opposed him would face the sharp end of a blade. The stories of him on the battlefield were whispers of blood soaked garments and a wicked smile as he slaughtered soldier after soldier with no remorse.

The image of this bloodthirsty monster faded as Lumine watched these citizens move around care free, as if they were unaware of the atrocities laying under their feet committed by their dear King Ajax.

Glancing up, she could see the distant looming monument, the grandiose castle of the king, looking over the land with a watchful stone eye.

She listened intently to the conversations around her, seeking any information about this Ajax, about how to get close enough to do her job.

She always wanted the most covert way, and now even more so. This was very much her highest profile case, and if she wasn’t careful, she could potentially start wars, with her murder being the first blood.

Perhaps the best way was to become some nondescript maid, someone’s whose presence and subsequent disappearance wouldn’t be questioned by any of the king’s allies. Perhaps as a chef? She could easily poison his food and silently slip away.

How she wished Aether was here with her. He was much more a strategist than she. Unfortunately, he had taken on a different job, far away in Inazuma. They would not see each other until both of their assignments were completed.

Lumine sighed, moving down the street, in search of a bar. Drunk bastards were always the best source of information: they didn’t know how to shut their mouths. In a bar, there were no figures too suspicious, and if there were, they would quickly be forgotten within a few pints of ale.

She pushed past vendors, until she was stopped by a brunette woman in a lavender robe.

“You are not from here,” she said with a breathy smile.

Singled out already? “I’ve only just recently moved here,” Lumine lied.

“Oh? For what reasons?” the woman pressed, her long eyelashes batting as she assessed Lumine head to toe. “Work?”

“No.” What was this woman’s motive? “I’ve heard Snezhnaya is a great country to live in.”

A content, pitched sigh. “Well, since you’ve just moved here, why don’t you come work for me? Outsiders earn a pretty penny.”

Lumine stared at her. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “I am Ying’er. I’m in charge of a local performance troupe.” She stepped closer, and Lumine could smell her flowery perfume. “I would love to have you join us.”

“No, thank you,” Lumine told her, inching away. Sounds like a cheap cover for a brothel. “I’m not in need of a job right now.”

Ying’er pouted, but stepped back. “Alright then, sweetie.” She leaned on the doorway of her shop. “I’ll be right here if you decide to come back,” she finished with a wink.

Lumine gave a curt nod before slinking away, back to her search for a bar. She pulled the hood of her cape over her head, sticking to the shadowed walls on her walk. Do I really stick out that much here?

In the distance, she heard the subtle pounding of a drum, and watched, astonished, as the crowded streets parted straight down the middle. An eerie silence filled the previously buzzing plaza. Something was coming.

All the citizens had their heads bowed—Lumine quickly followed suit.

The booming of the drums came closer, and she heard the thunderous marching of armored boots layered into the sound. She glanced up.

There was an entourage of armored soldiers, an assortment of glistening weapons at their sides, escorting a decorated golden carriage.

King Ajax.

What was this? Was there some sort of special occasion taking place?

Much easier to find than expected.

The carriage rolled past. Lumine strained to look at the window while still keeping her head bowed.

Unfortunately, the window was curtained, a velvety red cloth obscuring any view of the king. Lumine wrinkled her nose in disappointment; she had wanted to see what she was up against.

The terrifying rumors of King Ajax never told of what he looked like. Lumine imagined a beastly figure, one with dark shaggy hair and sharp teeth, bones all jutting out in the wrong directions, filleted with raw scars all over.

The carriage continued to move past.

Could she do it? Could she use her magic to take him out right now? There certainly was a large number of people around, and all of them would be suspects; all the easier for her to get away.

However, the guards could easily murder everyone in the plaza if a perpetrator wasn’t found. And, as Ying’er so blatantly pointed out, Lumine didn’t exactly fit in with the Snezhayan citizens.

She would just have to wait. Wait for a better opportunity. Wait to learn more about King Ajax. Wait to plan the best way to kill him.

There was a rustle of murmurs as the citizens returned to their activities, the royal carriage and its guards wheeling out of sight—the air more tense than before.

Taking in a deep breath, she resumed her search.

I need a drink.

* * *

Lumine sat in the corner booth as always, the seat in the bar that could overlook the entire establishment, the place where she could easily see who entered and exited the building.

She sipped at her mug of ale: not enough to become inebriated, but just enough to take some of her stress away. She still listened intently for any utterances about King Ajax.

She kept her eye on a man who was chugging pint after pint of alcohol, complaining about his job, his kids, his wife.

Maybe he’ll complain about his king as well.

“God, I miss Mondstadt,” the man sighed.

Lumine raised a brow. Someone from the conquered land of Mondstadt? He should definitely harbor some resentment for King Ajax.

“Careful there,” the bartender muttered. “The king will have your tongue if you speak ill of him.”

The drunkard scoffed. “The king ain’t here, is he? Too busy with his parties and parades to ever come to a hole-in-the-wall bar.”

The bartender shrugged, silently wiping a glass.

“C’mon,” the man continued. “You don’t think it’s weird how he always invites those performers to the castle? What a dramatic man.” A hiccup. “You think he beds all of them?”

“Probably. Lots of women would want to sleep with the king”

“See, King Ragvindr never did things like that.” He laid his head on the counter. “A modest man. Genuinely cared about his people.”

“King Ajax cares for us. He provides—he’s made Snezhnaya wealthier than ever.”

“Hmph. Is that why he murders people in cold blood? Remember that man that got executed in the street for not bowing to him?”

“Just listen to him, and you’ll be fine.”

Lumine slid out of her booth, making her way to the exit, to a certain brunette woman with a lavender robe.

He likes performers.

A plan started to bubble in her mind as she walked the streets to Ying’er’s shop.

She would slip into the castle with the performance troupe. She would feign illness, seemingly leaving early, when in actuality, she would hide until all the guests had left. King Ajax would retire for the night, alone—and that’s when she would strike.

Lumine smiled, just a bit, confidence coming to her now that she knew what to do.

Her and Aether’s life of freedom felt like a breath away.

* * *

“You’ve certainly improved quite a lot,” Ying’er said, sauntering into Lumine’s quarters.

Lumine set her lyre down. “Guess I’m a quick learner.”

It had been a few weeks since Lumine had arrived in Snezhnaya, and became one of Ying’er performers. She had decided to learn an instrument—the lyre—while staying with Ying’er and the rest of the performers at the hostess’ establishment. She preferred it over becoming a poet or dancer.

Ying’er was right: many people came to watch Lumine sit prettily on stage and play her lyre—her face painted with make-up, and her body adorned with beautiful robes and gowns.

All the while, Lumine anxiously awaited the king’s invitation to their performance troupe. He had invited different groups all over town, though not Ying’er’s yet.

Was this plan a failure? Where was that damned man’s invitation—

“Is that what I think it is?” Lumine asked, eyeing the embellished envelope in her boss’ hand.

Ying’er hummed in affirmation. “The king has finally invited our group to perform at a party tonight.”

Finally. “What an honor,” Lumine said with a smile.

“Very much so.” Ying’er put her hand under Lumine’s chin, examining her face. “Yes...I will have you dressed in our best garments and make-up.”

The woman smiled. “After all, you are our pretty little star.”

* * *

The carriage ride to the castle was filled with the girls’ giggles and whispers, how they wished for the king to whisk them away into a life of riches and royalty, to be his beloved first wife. Lumine kept a hand pressed against her leg—ensuring the dagger hidden under her heavy robes wouldn’t fall out.

She didn’t like to get messy with such a close ranged weapon—she would usually just use her magic from a distance—but she wasn’t going to take a chance if something were to go awry.

As they neared the castle, everyone burst into gasps, admiring the massive stone structure. The excitement doubled as the dozens of other carriages came into view as well.

This is going to be one very extravagant party.

Before she knew it, Lumine was sitting in the great hall, along with the rest of the party goers, awaiting the king’s arrival. She saw the empty throne at the very front of the room, raised on a marble platform, his rightful place above his subjects.

A fanfare of brass instruments blared. The king is here.

The room collectively stood, bowing their heads as the king’s personal guards filed in. Lumine quirked her head to look for King Ajax.

Oh.

The king was not a hideous looking beast at all.

In fact, he was quite the opposite.

He walked in, tall stature carrying an air of importance (and arrogance) on his shoulders with a billowing crimson red cloak, a broad grin plastered on his face. He was young, exactly around Lumine’s age.

He had reddish-brown hair framing his face, locks that glittered like gold in the light of the room, and his eyes were like vortexes—deep whirlpools of the bluest ocean water. All his features were sharp, upturned, like a cunning fox waiting contently to trap its prey.

She watched as he made his way up to his throne, a sickening anxiety spreading through her limbs.

Lumine had never killed anyone so close in age to her—it had always been older men and women. And, of course, she had never found herself attracted to her target.

“Please,” the king spoke, still grinning. “Have a seat.” As he sat on his throne, the rest of the room sat as well.

Lumine swallowed the lump in her throat. His voice was light, playful even.

Was that truly the murderous king of Snezhnaya?

“A toast, to you, my people,” he said, raising a golden goblet. “Let the festivities begin.”

Lumine gulped down her own glass of wine, then shook her head.

I’m here for a job. Not romance.

The room filled with chatter, and Ying’er motioned to Lumine and the rest of the musicians to the corner where they would be performing their music for the night.

Lumine gathered her lyre, shuffling towards her spot in her heavily layered robes. Her mouth was set in a taut line.

A momentary lapse in judgement.

As she played the first few notes, her eyes flickered to the king, who was busy greeting various nobles at his throne. She narrowed her eyes at him, at that sly, sly smile on his face.

It won’t happen again.

* * *

The night seemed to drag on forever. After what seemed like an eternity of playing music for the room—as other patrons ate and danced and conversed—the musicians were finally taking a break.

Lumine delightfully chewed through expensive meats and breads as various actors, dancers, and poets took the floor in front of King Ajax to present their pieces.

The king seemed to be entertained, joining on some of the performances himself.

That drunkard from the bar was right. King Ajax was quite dramatic, inserting himself into the spotlight whenever he so pleased. How pretentious.

The crowd clapped and cheered as another performance was brought to an end, an air of boisterous chatter resuming. Lumine swallowed her last piece of food, making her way to Ying’er.

Time to get started.

“Ying’er,” Lumine called to her boss, clenching her side. “I feel a bit sick.”

The brunette woman raised a brow. “You were looking quite well before.”

“Yes, it was very sudden,” Lumine responded, turning to the exit. “I think I will just head back now.”

“So soon, dear? We haven’t even introduced ourselves to the king yet.”

Lumine was already on her way out. “I’ll see you back at the shop.”

She slipped past the guards patrolling the halls, ducking into the nearest empty room, a storage closet of sorts. Perfect.

She hiked her long robes up, unsheathing her dagger, cutting away at the garments. Sorry, Ying’er. But I can’t fight in this. She threw the discarded fabric in a dark corner, where they would be forgotten about.

She slid the knife back into its sheath, and cracked the door open the tiniest bit—enough to watch the entrance into the great hall.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

* * *

Lumine would have fallen asleep had it not been for the two guards who stopped to converse right outside her door. Within a matter of seconds, Lumine had gone from sleepily nodding off to firmly clenching her weapon in her hand, nerves buzzing on high alert.

“That party dragged on forever,” one of the guards said. “I don’t know how King Ajax does it. Isn’t he exhausted every night?”

“Not sure. He seems to enjoy it.”

“He’s been gone a while now. Should we check on him?”

Lumine tightened her grasp on her dagger. He was gone?

“No. He likes to be alone at night. He’ll kill you if you interrupt him.”

“Oh...Should we just go to the other side of the castle then? So we don’t...interrupt him?”

“...Sounds like a good idea.”

The sound of their footsteps faded, and Lumine dared a peek out the door to scope out the hallway.

There were no other guards, and the boisterous sounds of the party were long gone.

Lumine slid out of the closet, sneaking down the hall, starting her search for King Ajax.

Sounds like he’s still here somewhere. Alone.

This job was getting easier and easier.

Too easy.

* * *

Please be in this room.

There was a great stone door before her, one she had come to after a mind-numbingly exhaustive search through the entirety of the large castle. She pushed on the door, as slowly and as quietly as possible, then looked in.

She nearly cried out in relief.

Sitting in the middle of the room was King Ajax, his back turned to her.

He was completely silent, unmoving, in this empty stone room. Was he asleep? No, it looked more like meditation.

Lumine slinked in, silently, conjuring the elemental energy of the wind in the room.

She would take every bit of air out of his body. Quick, quiet, no mess. It was the method she had always used.

She closed her eyes to focus, feeling the pull of air from his lungs.

He was going to die, and she was going to be free, free with her brother—

WHOOSH!

Lumine opened her eyes just in time to see Ajax rush towards her.

His hand wrapped around her throat, and he slammed her into the ground. All of the breath in her body hissed out of her, and she clawed at his hand.

“Who are you?” he growled.

She stopped prying at his hold, quickly yanking out her dagger, and slashing at his face.

He dodged, forcing him to loosen his grip on her.

She slashed again at his hand, throwing herself away from him as he recoiled in pain. She rubbed at her neck, gasping for breath. The king was looking at the gash across his fingers.

Shitshitshit.

Lumine quickly focused her energy on the earth below, trying to create shackles out of stone to hold him in place, or to just bury him alive.

The ropes of earth sprang out of the ground. His eyes flickered to the coils as they rushed for him.

Yes!

But then a swirling mass of water appeared, engulfing him, destroying the chains in the process.

What—?!

A sharp stream of water shot out from the bubble, coiling around Lumine before she could react. She was pulled to the ground, bound, and unable to move.

The bubble of water dissipated, and Ajax stepped out, eyes ablaze. He approached Lumine.

“Who are you?” he asked again, less angry, more inquisitive.

She strained against the chains of water, her elemental energy unable to rid them. She locked eyes with him. “You’re a magic user.”

He squatted next to her. “You are too,” he responded, the smallest ghost of a smile on his lips. He took her dagger into his hands, weighing it. “Now, why were you trying to kill me?”

Lumine bit her cheek. No, she couldn’t sell Diluc out; he could still get Aether killed.

“That’s how you conquered Mondstadt and Liyue so easily. You used magic,” she pushed, ignoring his question. “That’s forbidden.”

He barked out a laugh, wiping his bloodied hand on her robes. “And yet, here we are, two magic users in one room.” He pointed the dagger at Lumine’s neck. “Tell me why you were trying to kill me, before I make it only one. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” Lumine said. “I’m a magic user. That threatens your power, doesn’t it?”

Ajax studied her for a second, pulling the dagger back, just a bit. “True.” He tilted his head. “But I’ve never actually met another magic user before.”

She averted his intense gaze. “So what are you going to do? Keep me alive and experiment on me?”

“No.” He stood. “How about this...in exchange for sparing your life, you become my student.”

…

What?

“You mean learn magic from you?” Lumine glared at him. “How do you know I won’t kill you in the future?”

“You won’t,” he said. “This murder attempt? Wasn’t personal—you tried to kill me from a distance. Someone must have sent you.” He closed his eyes, squeezing the hilt of the dagger. After some shaking, it disintegrated into dust.

“Also, you can’t kill me,” he continued, opening his eyes. “You’re severely untrained. You saw how easily I subdued you.” A small smile. “All the more reason to learn from me.”

Maybe this was the gods taking mercy on Lumine. Ajax didn’t kill her right away; she had a chance to live, to get back home to Aether.

“What’s in it for you? This only seems to benefit me,” she said to Ajax.

He hummed, thinking. “A potentially powerful weapon,” he responded, eyes glinting.

Maybe, once she learned more magic, she could overtake him, and complete her job.

She locked eyes with him.

“You have a deal.”

The ghost of those words burned bitter on her tongue.

* * *

Lumine nearly died the next morning.

“You did what?!” she gasped out, after deathly choking on a part of her breakfast.

She was currently sitting across from Ajax in his elegant dining room, who had just informed her that he had announced their marriage.

He leaned back in his chair. “A random new woman living in the king’s castle? Bound to raise many rumors,” he said, nonchalant. “This way, there are no rumors, and we can train without being questioned.”

Lumine worried her lip. He has a point.

“I don’t—We don’t have to...do anything in public, do we?” she asked.

“No.” He smirked. “Unless you want to, pretty girl.”

She grimaced. “No, thank you.” Here for a job, not romance, she reminded herself, no matter how handsome this cocky bastard is. Not to mention, she still planned to kill him.

And so, Lumine’s days were filled with training, pretending to the servants and maids she was King Ajax’s fiancée. She was trapped, as Ajax reminded her many times that if she tried to leave, he would swiftly execute her.

She learned more about him, as much as she didn’t want to. She saw that he did really care for his people, and provided for them as best he could—though he wasn’t above using his power to strike down those in his way, whether it was an enemy or a citizen who simply disrespected his reign.

And that was ultimately what he wanted: power. To have power over everyone in the land of Teyvat. He had endless ambition—Lumine could credit him that much.

Some days, she caught herself imagining it as well: a world she could rule over, have everyone bend to her will, set the laws so people like her and Aether could live without fear, and be provided for. In some ways, she could relate to Ajax’s desires. In some ways, she could justify his methods.

It very much disgusted her, at first. But then, it was liberating. To have someone who could understand the darker sides to her being, understand the blood on her hands.

Even Aether could never fully understand her. How part of her was always glad to be given magical powers to defend herself and those she cared about. How part of her enjoyed her current situation.

After all, she was living lavishly, compared to the impoverished life she had before. She had every meal provided for, luxuriously, and a soft bed to lay in every night. No threat of the authorities finding out about her powers and murdering her.

Could she perhaps bring Aether here?

Ajax had spared her—was it too much of a stretch to believe he would spare her twin as well?

If Aether could be brought here, she wouldn’t have to kill Ajax. She wouldn’t have to kill perhaps the only person in Teyvat that knew who she truly was.

* * *

“If you found another magic user,” she asked Ajax over dinner, “would you train them as well?”

Ajax took a sip of wine from his goblet. “No.”

“...No?”

A small smile, a slight flash of his canines. “I can’t have my weapons outnumbering me, now can I?”

Lumine’s mouth went dry. “If you won’t train them...what would you do with them?”

“Kill them.” He set the cup down. “They would be a threat.”

“I’m not a threat?”

Ajax barked out a laugh. “No, Lumine. No, you are not.”

Ah.

So she and Aether couldn’t be together here. Aether was still in danger of being outed by Diluc.

“Why?” Ajax questioned. “Are you lonely here?”

“I’m trapped in your castle. What do you think?”

He rested his head on his hand. “My bed is open at night, if you’d like.”

Lumine drove her knife through her food. “You’re insufferable.”

“Oh, Lumine, it’s just banter,” he said, chuckling. “You don’t think we’re friends? I quite like your company.”

She pursed her lips, staying silent.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” Ajax stared right at her. “I see you while we train. You like it here. You like becoming more and more powerful.”

He leaned over the table. “You and I are very similar.” He smiled. “There’s a hunger in your eyes. You want exactly what I have.”

Lumine stood abruptly. “We are nothing alike,” she spat uselessly. He sees right through me.

“I told you, you don’t have to lie to me,” Ajax responded, sitting back in his chair. “We are already married. We could rule together—as partners.”

...What?

“I thought I was your weapon.” Her knuckles were white from clutching the edge of the table.

“Partner if you so choose.” His blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Weapon if not.”

What game is he playing? “There has to be some sort of catch.” He was essentially offering her his power as king, even if it was just partially.

“No catch,” he said. “Like I said, if you refuse, you’ll just continue your little life of entrapment, as my weapon.”

“One of these options is obviously better than the other.”

Ajax laughed, genuinely, his expression softening, just a bit. “I guess one is.”

She gave him a look, quizzical, before swiftly leaving the room, his proposal still hanging in the night.

As the guards escorted her back to her room, she played the conversation over and over again in her mind.

Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad as King Ajax’s consort, his companion through his crusade of Teyvat?

He was right: part of her deep down ached for that kind of power.

But joining Ajax meant sacrificing her dear brother.

The aching desire hissed, Is that a sacrifice you are going to make?

* * *

The castle’s stone floors were freezing on Lumine’s feet as she traversed through the halls barefoot. No shoes meant no sound. No sound meant she could surprise the guards, getting the upper hand to take them out. Already, there was a trail of dead guards behind her as she passed through the corridors, the air stripped from their lungs.

Her sheer white nightgown fluttered around her as she dashed about, and in the dim moonlight waning through the windows, she thought herself a ghost, an angel of death. She was on a path she could not stop.

She knew exactly where he was. After spending so many days trapped here, of course she knew where the king’s quarters were.

She knew him like clockwork: what days he would stay up in his study, what days he would retire to his chambers and when. She knew where his guards were, when they would switch patrols, when their protection would be the weakest.

And when it came time, she stood outside of his door, wavering on the spot slightly.

She shook her head, trying the door. Locked.

Taking a breath in, she rapped her knuckles on the hardwood.

She heard rustling beyond the heavy oak door, her heartbeat picking up. She would have to get in there quick, before he looked behind her and saw his guards missing.

The door swung open, a flash of anger on Ajax’s face until he saw who it was.

He gave her a closed-eye smile. “Ah, Lumine, to what do I owe the pleasure—”

Lumine stood on the tips of her toes, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

She could feel him go rigid under her touch. She walked him backwards, further into the room, closing the door behind her with her foot.

As the door shut, he broke away from her. “Are you accepting my proposal?” he whispered, his hands clutched around her arms.

Lumine nodded, going for another kiss, arms slinking around his shoulders. This time, he melted into her touch, pulling until he was under her on his bed.

He fell for it.

Pity crept into her heart. From the way he breathed her in, the way he held her in his arms, there was a softness she had never seen from him.

He loved her.

She was his weapon, and now, his greatest weakness.

“I’m sorry,” she said against his lips.

His eyes opened, those ocean eyes on her as she pulled the air from his lungs with ease.

You shouldn’t have trained me.

His hand reached for her throat, but went to his own as he gasped and choked.

She wrapped her own hands around his, pressing down. She slammed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see his face.

He thrashed wildly, and she repeated I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryimsorry over and over again until he went still under her.

…

…

...

She opened her eyes, the world blurry around her. She wiped away the tears pooling in her vision, and looked down at Ajax.

He was unmoving, eyes glazed over, arms limp at his side.

Lumine reached for his throat, hand shaking, fingers checking for a pulse.

He’s dead.

She scrambled off of him, crumbling into a ball on the floor.

I killed him.

Her breathing was uneven—she was the one gasping for breath now as uncontrollable sobs racked through her body.

I am so sorry, Ajax.

* * *

“Lumi?”

Lumine turned to see Aether looking at her with worry.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

A breeze rustled by. Lumine turned back to look over green fields that stretched as far as she could see.

“I’m okay,” she responded.

“Okay,” he repeated. He smiled a bit, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “Diluc’s hawk came this morning. He sends warm wishes to us both.”

After the assassination of King Ajax, Lumine decreed Snezhnaya a freed country, a country with no ruler, and returned the lands of Mondstadt and Liyue back to their rightful heirs. Diluc, now the restored king of Mondstadt, gave Lumine and Aether the riches he promised, and a home deep in the countryside for the peaceful life they so desperately wanted.

But sometimes Lumine had nightmares of Ajax.

She would be sitting next to him, on their thrones as the King and Queen of Snezhnaya. Sometimes, little princes and princesses of theirs would be running around as well.

They would have conjured all of Teyvat together.

They would have loved each other.

Lumine would wake up, tears in her eyes, heart heavy with desire for that life.

And then she would cry because her life would never be peaceful ever again.

[razzle-zazzle]

Five times others noticed something off about Cole + one time it was explained

3083 Words; Coleverlord

Something was wrong with her son.

Lilly couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she realized it, but something had changed since that disaster of a boating trip. Cole had been more quiet, lately, had been listless and almost eerily pensive at times.

Lilly didn’t like it. It was unnerving.

They never should have gone. It was supposed to be a fun outing for the three of them, a four-hour tour off the west coast alongside some other passengers.

It ended up being a ten-day stay on an uncharted island. It ended up being Lilly in charge of a group of people not quite accustomed to wilderness survival as they waited for rescue to stumble upon them. It ended up being exhausting, and draining, and the exact opposite of a fun outing.

And then they’d finally been found, and finally arrived home—

And now something was wrong with Cole.

It wasn’t what one would expect in this situation, either. Cole wasn’t sick, wasn’t running a fever, nor was he injured—no, it was none of that.

But there had been a drastic change in his behavior, and Lilly didn’t like it. It felt like there was something in her home, something that never should have been let in but had come in anyway, and that something was pitter-patting down the halls with steps eerily similar to her son but just so slightly off.

“Mama?”

Lilly jumped at her son's voice, caught off guard. She was in the kitchen getting herself water and trying to sort through this awful feeling she had. Her seven year old son was standing in the doorway, hand gripping the frame.

Despite the moonlight streaming in through the window onto his face—or maybe because of it—he didn’t seem quite real. Something about the way Cole was holding himself was just… off.

“Yeah?” Lilly shifted uncomfortably under her son’s stare. Something was definitely wrong with this child. Just him standing there in the doorway had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

Cole took a step forward. “Had a bad dream.” He murmured.

Lilly set her water on the counter and crossed the kitchen, wrapping her arms around her son despite her instincts telling her to be wary. “Oh, baby, it’s okay,” she lifted him up, bracing him against her hip to hold him more easily. “Do you wanna tell me about it?”

Cole buried his face in Lilly’s shoulder. “Don’t remember.” He mumbled.

Lilly hated that her first instinct here was to set Cole back down again. Hated that, for all that her son was right here and seeking comfort, part of her was convinced it wasn’t him.

Cole was still clinging to her, though, so she returned to the counter to finish her water, holding him close the entire time.

She’d have to tell Wu about all of this, about this unsettled feeling she had, but—

That could wait until the morning.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole had a really weird presence.

Jay didn’t really mind that Cole could sometimes be a little… off. Cole was Cole. Besides, Zane was also weird, but he was no less their brother; the same applied to Cole.

But for how sweet Cole could be, there was still something… unsettling about him. Something that had Jay’s arms erupt into goosebumps whenever Cole was around. And that was after several months of knowing the guy—when they’d first met, Jay couldn’t even look at Cole without his stomach tying up in knots.

It probably wasn’t really anything to worry about, but Jay couldn’t help but wonder why Cole had such disconcerting vibes. And it wasn’t the same as Zane’s uncanniness, because at least when Zane acted uncanny it didn’t put Jay on edge the way Cole sometimes did.

Jay knew Cole… or maybe he only thought he knew Cole. He was probably just being paranoid, but he couldn’t help but wonder sometimes.

He really hoped he was just being paranoid.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole was certainly… odd.

But that was fine. Zane was odd, too. They were both a little odd, but their family still loved them for it.

Sure, Cole’s tendency to occasionally stare westward was unusual, but Cole was Cole. It was when Zane started keeping track of it that things got… interesting.

As they traveled around searching for the Fang Blades, Zane noticed that Cole didn’t stare exactly westward. Rather, it seemed that the angle changed depending on the latitude, as though Cole was looking towards a certain location in particular rather than just out west in general.

So Zane conducted an experiment. Whenever he noticed Cole zoning out to stare west, he tracked the location and angle as best as he could.

Zane collected this data over the course of several days. When he was finally satisfied and had the free time to do so, he found himself a map, a ruler, a marker, and a compass.

It was time to record the data.

“Hey, Zane,” Jay greeted as he came into the room, “Watcha doing?”

“Recording data.” Zane responded, another crisp line appearing under his steady hand.

Jay came over to look at the map over Zane’s shoulder. “Kinda looks like you’re just drawing lines on a map, buddy.”

“That is what I am doing, yes.” Zane drew another line, extending it out until it intersected with the first. Since Jay was still watching, Zane elaborated, “I am marking down the directions of Cole’s… ‘trances’, as it were.”

Jay hummed consideringly. “Looks like they all converge at a certain point.”

Zane nodded. “Yes, it seems they do.” He added the final line, then capped the marker and set it and the ruler aside to survey his work.

Ten lines, crisp and neat, from ten different starting positions. Ten lines that all converged on the same point off the west coast.

There was nothing at those coordinates other than ocean, at least, there was nothing on the map. It was very puzzling.

“Wait.” Jay pointed at a small island just a few degrees north of the intersection. “What’s that?”

It was the only charted island for miles. Small, nondescript, and uninhabited. But it was also the closest thing to the intersection, and probably their best bet for answers outside of directly asking Cole.

“I’ll have to look into it.” Zane made a mental note to do just that as he stood up and began to fold the map.

Jay grabbed everything else. “Here, I’ll help.”

Zane nodded. “Thank you.”

+=+=+=+=+

Nya liked to think she was good at noticing the little details.

And she was! Whether it be the small details of her mech’s innards or the little things her brother did when he was stressed, Nya was really good at noticing small details.

Which was probably why she had noticed so many odd things about Cole. To be fair, a lot of things Cole did or said were just plain odd—and there was nothing wrong with that—but there were some things he did that just… felt off, sometimes.

So yeah. Nya noticed the small things, paid close attention to the boys and their habits and their moods. Paid attention to the small details of their faces, like the way Jay’d stick out his tongue when he was concentrating, or how Zane’s brow would furrow when he was deep in thought; how Kai’s eyes crinkled when he smiled—

And how Cole’s eyes seemingly changed color every so often, for seemingly no reason. How that dusty, tawny brown that looked so much like the sunbaked earth around the shop could suddenly shift into a deep violet. How sometimes it almost looked like his eyes were glowing in certain lighting. How it definitely wasn’t a trick of the light, no, his eyes definitely changed color.

Which was probably not normal.

Then again, their sensei was technically part dragon and had slitted pupils, so maybe Cole’s magical color-changing eyes weren’t that out there.

It was just a little unnerving, to look at Cole expecting those gentle eyes and see foreboding violet. Almost like there was something else there, something lurking behind those eyes. Something that shouldn’t be trusted.

But Nya didn’t like to think that way about Cole, so she just noted that his eyes changed color sometimes and moved on with her day.

She had more important things to stress about.

+=+=+=+=+

Kai didn’t like this.

There were a lot of things about this island that Kai didn’t like, but the way Cole had been acting since it rose was most definitely on the top of the list.

Cole was always pretty weird. And that was fine! What was unsettling was that he was acting differently from how he usually did.

First, they sail out to this random little island in the middle of the ocean because Garmadon somehow managed to get himself marooned out here, and was demanding they come and pick him up. Then, Cole disappears into the jungle with Jay and they trigger something that makes the island rise, revealing it to be some big evil mega island from Misako’s old texts. It didn’t help that Cole didn’t seem at all bothered by this.

Ever since then, Misako and Wu and Garmadon had been furiously discussing whether to stay and explore or leave immediately, and Kai was pretty sure Misako still had her weird grudge against Cole because he’d overheard her calling him a “problem” again, so Kai was staying away from that argument.

And so the ninja were cautiously poking around the edges of the jungle after having moved the Bounty back out to the new coast, and Cole—

He wasn’t acting like Cole.

He’d been muttering, too quiet to make out any of the words, and he’d go silent if you came closer. He stared into the jungle a lot, sometimes zoning out so bad that not even Jay’s bad jokes could snap him out of it.

All in all, Kai was very unnerved. And an unnerved Kai was an angry one, snapping at anyone who came near.

His stress levels weren’t helped by the fact that last he’d seen Cole, he and Lloyd had been wandering into the jungle. Kai had followed, but he’d lost track of them what seemed like hours ago.

So now the whole group was on an island Misako didn’t want to be anywhere near, Cole was acting like he was possessed and had disappeared with Lloyd for unknown reasons, and Kai was lost in the jungle.

“Amazing! Incredible!” Kai kicked at the dirt at his feet, “Oh, this is just perfect!” He had no idea how to get back. Great. Fucking wonderful.

The jungle had no response for his tantrum, just a few faint bird calls and wind rustling the leaves.

Kai huffed. He wasn’t going to be finding Cole and Lloyd anytime soon, so he should probably try to get back to the beach and tell everyone else what he knew. Of course, being lost would put a damper on it, but Kai was reasonably sure he could figure out where he was.

He looked at the trees surrounding him.

He just needed a little more height.

+=+=+=+=+

Lloyd was pretty sure they were lost.

When he voiced this concern, however, Cole just replied with a chipper “oh no, we’re definitely getting closer!” that wasn’t reassuring in the least. So Lloyd continued to trudge through the jungle after Cole, hoping he’d at least get an explanation for why Cole felt the need to drag him along to… wherever they were heading.

Another leaf smacked Lloyd in the face. “Are you certain we’re not lost?” He asked once more. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the same tree more than four times already.”

Cole didn’t say anything, just took Lloyd’s hand to help him up a small ledge. They continued their little trek, the jungle slowly thinning out and becoming a mountain.

“It’s just up here.” Cole said. He’d been unusually quiet up until this point.

Lloyd looked up at the rock face that Cole was suggesting he climb and groaned. But Cole was already ascending, so Lloyd swallowed his complaints and got to climbing. It was strenuous and sweaty and exhausting and if Cole was only dragging him up here to show him a killer view or some shit then Lloyd was going to scream, but he’d let himself be led out this far so he was going to climb all the way to the top, dammit.

Gasping and aching in ways that shouldn’t be possible, Lloyd hauled himself up onto the top, flopping over onto his back to catch his breath. Why did killer views have to be so hard to get to?

Cole was already moving, striding towards whatever he’d wanted to show Lloyd. Lloyd blearily turned his head towards Cole, not prepared to see anything in particular—

Oh.

That was definitely… something.

A big metal… thing sat proudly atop the stone, with a whole bunch of gears and rings and big metal balls on the end of rods like some mad scientist’s evil machine or something.

Lloyd pushed himself up into a sitting position while Cole approached the metal abomination. “Am I gonna get an explanation, or… ?”

Cole stopped, still facing towards the Big Metal Thing. “It’s the Celestial Clock.” He said quietly. “It’s supposed to count down to the final battle.” Now that he said it, Lloyd could see something that looked vaguely clock-like near the center of the rings.

Lloyd frowned. “It doesn’t seem to be doing a whole lot of counting down.” Which was a relief. Lloyd would like the final battle to maybe just not happen, please and thanks.

“Yeah.” Cole stepped forwards, tracing his hand gently along one of the rings as he moved towards the center of it. “Because it hasn’t been activated yet.” He stopped at the center and put his hands on a helmet Lloyd hadn’t noticed before. “But if you remove the Helmet of Shadows…”

Lloyd stood up very fast. “Uh, Cole, what—”

“Do you trust me?” Cole’s voice cut through the air like a knife. Lloyd stopped where he stood.

“Lloyd.” Cole still didn’t turn around, “Do you trust me?”

“I—” What was the right answer here? What was Lloyd supposed to do?

“Yeah, I—I trust you.”

Cole picked up the helmet and stepped back, his back still to Lloyd. With a grind and a groan, the clock started moving. “Then you won’t worry about this.”

“But the final battle—”

“Isn’t happening.” Cole snarled. “The clock is going to run down and nothing will happen because there isn’t going to be a final battle. We are not fighting.”

Lloyd took a step back. Okay, this was definitely starting to cross the line into Not Okay. “Cole?”

All the tenseness in Cole’s shoulders dissolved. “I’m sorry.” He murmured. “You’re not talking to Cole right now.”

At that, Cole—or rather, Not-Cole?—turned around, helmet still cradled in his hands. His eyes were a brilliant, glowing violet—no iris, no pupil, just pure, deep violet that had Lloyd’s instincts screaming at him to flee from.

Immediately, Lloyd assumed a defensive stance. “What are you? What did you do to Cole?” He demanded, green lighting in his hands.

Not-Cole laughed, an eerie, broken sound. “Relax, Lloyd, I don’t intend to hurt you.” It took a step forward, but stopped when Lloyd stepped back. “Or did you not hear me when I declared that there would be no final battle?”

“You better start explaining,” Lloyd snarled, “Right now.”

Not-Cole nodded. “That is why I brought you up here, yes.” He sat down, helmet still in his lap, and gestured for Lloyd to do the same.

Lloyd dropped the stance, but stayed standing.

Not-Cole sighed. “Alright, let’s start with an introduction. I am the being known as the Overlord. I came about not long after the First Master created Ninjago, as a counterbalance to his light and order.”

Lloyd processed this, turning it over in his head. “Okay.”

The Overlord nodded, then continued. “The First Master and I engaged in a battle for control of Ninjago. What was going to be a stalemate turned in my favor when I created the Stone Army, so the First Master split Ninjago in half and sunk my half, leaving me bound to it.” It traced Cole’s hands along the edges of the helmet, gaze fixed on Lloyd.

Lloyd frowned. “So, what, you possessed Cole when we got here? Is that it?”

It chuckled. “You’re correct, but your timing is off. My vessel first arrived on this island years and years ago, when a freak stroke of luck resulted in a ship washing up here.” Cole—no, the Overlord—sighed wistfully. “I wanted off this island. My vessel was sympathetic enough to let me in.”

Lloyd tensed. “So you’ve been controlling Cole for years, then.”

“No.” Cole said, eyes suddenly back to their normal brown. “We share this body.”

“Cole.” Lloyd put his hands on Cole’s shoulders. “Are you really, truly okay with this?”

Cole nodded, sincerity in his eyes. “Made It promise not to fight you.” He muttered.

And then his eyes were violet, though not the fully obvious, solid violet of moments before. Just the irises.

“There won’t be a final battle.” It said, “That clock will count down to nothing.” It stood up, still holding the helmet. “And nothing will happen.”

Lloyd walked over, standing beside It. “How can you be so sure?”

“My vessel was never supposed to end up on this island. I was never supposed to leave it. And look at us now, sharing a single body.” It strode forwards, Cole’s arms spreading out to the sides in an sweeping gesture as It stared out into the landscape below them. “Destiny has been defied once.” It turned towards Lloyd, extending a hand. “So why bow to such a shitty destiny if you don’t have to? Why submit yourself to a fight none of us want when it’s not even necessary?”

It gestured towards the clock, which was still ticking down. “Just wait. Nothing will happen when the clock hits zero, because there won’t be a final battle. Destiny has no power over us.”

Lloyd watched the clock tick down for a moment, processing what the Overlord was telling him. Could he really trust it?

But then he remembered his father telling him that he was proud of Lloyd, as well as all the things his dad tried in order to stop the prophecy from coming true.

“Alright.” Lloyd made his decision.

“Let’s defy destiny.”

[kimistorm]

My Heart Gone Missing [Chapter 6]

Fandom: Studio Ghibli (Howl’s Moving Castle)

Pairing: Friendship! Howl x GN! Reader

Warnings: Marius is unsupportive and angsty as usual~

Masterlist

You were back outside in the waste next to the lake where the hole extravaganza had started. “Years of training at the academy.” You angrily grumbled, “and for what? Nothing!” you turned to the blank expanse of the land and shouted, “what even am I supposed to do! What do you want from me!” there was no reply except for the wind that swallowed up your words.

There was silence and then the hum of a plane made itself known. “What?” you murmured to yourself. Planes weren’t a common occurrence. And this plane had an ugly loud roar. You squinted up into the sky and looked at the plane. It didn’t look like a leisure plane that insanely rich people would use. You frowned and tried to think about it, then it hit you. It was a fighter plane. Your eyes widened in surprise and you found yourself taking small steps backwards towards your home. These planes rarely come out, and typically the emergence of these planes means war.

“Marius!” you screeched and ran back towards your home, “Marius!” you slammed open the door and the water demon choked and spluttered on something from your sudden appearance.

“What is it now (y/n)?” Marius asked in annoyance, “you want to use my power for some crazy grand scheme? Or maybe,” his voice perked up, “you’ve realized how futile everything is and are ready to call off this deal!”

“No no, it’s not that.” You shook your head and closed the door behind you, “it’s war.” The magnitude of the word seemed to settle on your shoulders and you shouted, “war! It’s war Marius! There is going to be a war.”

Marius snorted, “right. And how would you know that?”

“Fighter plane.” You pointed straight up as if you were pointing towards the sky through the ceiling of the house, “there was a fighter plane up there. They don’t come out, unless we’re on the brink of war.”

“Humans.” Marius scoffed, “always fighting over petty things.”

“I need to find that spell.” You declared urgently to Marius, “do you know something, anything, that could be of use?”

Marius rolled his eyes, for a ball of water he was sassy, “I’m not a wizard, and even if I was. I wouldn’t tell you. You’re-”

“Awful, I know.” You interrupted the sassball, “thanks.” You leaned over the book again and flipped to the back. “There was an index this entire time?” you screeched and resisted the urge to flip the table. “Invisibility, invisibility.” You muttered under your breath and used your finger to help you keep track of where you were looking. “There.” You quickly flipped to the page where the spell was written and read it over.

“Okay.” You breathed after a moment of silence, “okay.”

“You broken over there?” Marius voice called.

You walked over to one of the shelves and grabbed a piece of chalk from the tin of chalk you kept. You shoved aside chairs and tables to make a small clearing in the center of the room.

“You’re going to do the spell in here?” Marius asked, “you’ll blow the entire place up!” he shouted.

“I’ll have you know I did go to the Academy.” You turned to his bowl and spun the white chalk in your fingers, “and I graduated.” You grabbed the book and squatted down to draw the image, “top marks too.”

Marius snorted, “really?” he asked.

“Yes, really.” You answered politely as you swirled the chalk around to make the surprisingly simple image. It was a circle, with multiple circles and triangles placed in what seemed to be in random places. “There.” You placed the chalk down on a table and clapped your hands together to get off the dust. You stepped into the center of the circle and held the book in your arms. You took a deep breath and read aloud the incantation from the book. The moment you were done, you tossed the book onto the floor outside of the circle and did a few hand signals before slamming your hands onto the circle.

Immediately, a beam of white light emerged from the drawn image and encompassed your body. You closed your eyes and let the magic do its thing. In the background, you faintly recognized that Marius was screeching.

The light slowly died out and you opened your eyes to see that the house was still intact. Much to Marius’ chagrin.

“They almost killed us.” Marius grumbled.

You looked up to the ceiling to make sure that the light hadn’t affected it and it looked fine. “What are you talking about?” you asked Marius in confusion, “who’s they?”

Marius jumped and let out a startled yelp, “I thought you teleported somewhere!” he crossed his arms and any inkling of concern was immediately washed away, “and here I thought I had the place to myself.”

“You will.” You jumped up and checked the mirror. Sure enough, the spell had worked and you were completely invisible, “don’t burn down the house while I’m gone!” you shouted and tore open the portal to the town.

You stepped out into the sunlight and made your way down to Jenkin’s shop. As it turns out, walking while invisible is extremely difficult. You had to make sure that you didn’t step on any toes, or run into any people, since they obviously couldn’t see you. Luckily, the shop wasn’t too far from where your portal spat you out.

When you found the building, you sat down next to the door to wait for someone to go in. As much as Marius would argue that you didn’t have any common sense, you did, and a door opening on its own is not something normal.

Minutes, hours passed and while the street was bustling with people, nobody wanted to go into the building. You twisted around from your uncomfortable spot on the ground to read the sign. Yup, it clearly showed ‘The Great Wizard Jenkins’. You sighed and rested your head on your hand.

The sun was beginning to set and you felt your stomach growl from hunger. You stood up and stretched your stiff limbs from sitting in the same place for so long. It was clear nobody was coming. You patted yourself down to get rid of any dirt that was clinging onto your clothes and began to move to find some food. However, you were stopped from going anywhere when you noticed somebody turning towards the building. You felt excitement leap in your chest. This was it.

The person briskly walked to the door and knocked.

“Hello.” The same kid as before opened the door.

“Hello, is it possible for me to find a gift here?” the person inquired.

“What sort of gift are you looking for?” the kid asked in his fake old man voice.

“Something unique, mind if I come in to search for something?” the man decided. You let out a silent cheer. Once the person went into the building, you’d slip in behind them and bam. You’d be in.

“I don’t really have a store.” The kid denied access and just as quickly as hope had risen, it fell. “You make an order, and then I deliver the order.”

The man’s shoulder sagged forwards, “ah, I see. My apologies for disturbing you Mr. Jenkins.”

You felt your own shoulders sag along with the man’s. There was no way you could get the spell now. Then an idea struck.

“Is there anything in particular that you were looking for? Perhaps I could help.” The kid probed.

“No, no. I was just waiting for inspiration to strike.” The man shook his head, “thank you for your kindness though.” He turned around and began to walk back to the busy street.

Quickly you summoned up some magic and caused the entire street to get caught up in a sudden windstorm. Everything went flying. Papers. Food. Hats. Anything and everything. Amidst the confusion you burst past the man and the kid at the door into the shop. You kept up the wind for a little longer. Enough to cause papers to fly into the doorway to distract the kid, and let the wind stop.

“That was rather sudden.” You heard the man laugh and you made your way around the interior in search for the spell. Aligning with what the kid had said, the inside didn’t look like a store at all. In fact, it looked like any normal house. You glanced back at the entrance and noticed a wheel with four colors. You deduced that they must’ve been portals.

The door shut behind you and the kid’s mop of gray hair transformed into significantly shorter red hair, “what was up with that sudden gust of wind?” he murmured.

“Now, this is just hypothetical,” you jumped when the fire beside you started to talk and you knocked over a book. Luckily you were able to catch it before it made a loud sound and neither the kid nor the fire seemed to notice. “But that could’ve been from magic.”

“Magic?” the kid echoed, “I didn’t see Mr. Howl out there.” Howl? You put a hand up to your mouth to conceal the gasp, could this be Howl’s house? It didn’t seem too far-fetched because there were the four portals, and it could be a similar situation as to the one that your own house was in.

“There’s more than one wizard out there.” The fire clicked its tongue.

You looked between the fire and the kid. You came to the realization that there were a couple flaws in your plan. First, how were you supposed to get the spell with people in the house? Add that to the fact you weren’t sure where to find it, and that results in a precarious situation. Second, how were you going to get out undetected? You wanted to slap yourself, perhaps Marius wasn’t completely wrong.

The kid pondered over what the fire had said, “that’s true.” He agreed, “oh well.” He shrugged and continued on his business.

“That’s all you’re gonna say?” the fire looked up at the kid, “you don’t get the creeping feeling that there’s a wizard in here?”

“How would they get in?” the kid asked, “we’d have seen them.” He said and jumped up to sit on the ragged couch.

“Invisibility spells, seriously Markl, do you not know magic?”

You were still frozen in your place. The fire demon was on to you, and you hadn’t even started to look. You looked at the bookshelf and the table in front of it with papers strewn all over it. You figured that that was your best bet. There was also the wizard’s room, but you couldn’t risk climbing the stairs. You and Howl might’ve been best friends before, but there was no guarantee that he’d remember you. Or that this was Howl’s house.

The door burst open and another person entered the building. It was a blond man with bright blue eyes. You slapped your hands over your mouth to keep from gasping audibly. It was Howl. You weighed your chances of getting the spell from him, but you were almost certain that he wouldn’t recognize you. You had changed a lot since the last time you saw him. It was too risky.

“Wait, who are you, and what are you doing here?” the kid demanded and looked straight at you.

Taglist: @pogpixelz

[the-knights-who-say-book]

Of a Witch, a Gossip, and a Library

The library on the corner of Oak and Vine was an accident. The crown didn’t bother opening libraries this far out west, so far from any of the major cities—so far that the townspeople joked to each other the king might someday forget to send his tax collectors out there, too. So Feldwidth had never had a library before.

When the local witch died a few years back, nobody quite knew what to do with her narrow corner cottage, with its living space upstairs and walls lined with shelves of witchcraft ingrediants on the single ground floor room. The witch hadn’t any children or relatives to continue living there, and nobody else claimed the space in the months after her death. The downstairs room, shelves on all four walls (even on the inside of the door!), just didn’t invite new inhabitants. No one in Feldwidth, except for the general store owner on Main, practiced a trade which required so many shelves, and no one wanted the tedious task of taking them all down.

It was Margorette Clay, who lived just outside the village and came in once a week supposedly to sell produce but mostly just to gossip, who said they ought to get themselves another witch.

“Not like you find them growing in a road ditch,” Jame Clott said irritably, because Margo was leaning against his fence. As far as he was concerned, no one who hadn’t painted that fence themselves were allowed to lean on it.

“Suppose not. Guess that’s only where you find Clotts,” Margo said, and ducked the dirty sheet that Jame had been beating out on the stone path and was about to beat out on her head. Cawing her distinctive laughter, she ran down the street, apron full of apples jostling and jumping with her loping stride.

Jame leaned over his fence to yell after her, “And they find Clays on the streets after it rains, too dumb to get back into the dirt!”

Margo’s laughter drew Catty Loose to the open doorway of her house as sure as if she’d had a ringing bell to announce new gossip. “What’s got Jame worked up?”

“Cause I said you ought to get yourselves a new witch,” Margo said, barely half-truthful as usual. “Buy an apple? They’re almost as blushing pretty as your kitling.”

Catty’s smallest daughter went red and buried herself deeper in her mother’s skirts.

Another kid, barely older, leaned against Margo’s leg and pulled her hand, nearly spilling all the apples from the apron she was holding up. “Why nother witch? What for?”

“Ah, every place ought to have one,” Margo said vaguely. “It’s the way of things. One apple for each of your kitlings, Catty, and I’ll throw two in free.”

————————

“Margo’s right,” Catty Loose said after temple that Saturday, as the townspeople gathered in the yard to mingle and eat, her arms full of children and another two playing at her feet.

With preternatural hearing, Jame Clott turned from speaking with his husband Willem across the yard to say loudly, “Margorette Clay has never been right once in her life.”

Catty ignored him. “We ought to get a new witch. Sooner or later we’ll want one.”

“That’s crap,” Jame said, coming into the circle that surrounded Catty, which seemed to be half made up of her own children. “What’ll we want a witch for? No one’s been cursed in ages.”

“Aida Macintosh,” someone put in.

“Aida Macintosh ate the red berries by the stream. That’s not a curse so much as a punishment for stupidity.”

No one could really disagree.

“Need one for love shpells,” a tiny Loose kitling named Alfed suggested.

Jame crouched down, his face softening, to look into his small, earnest face. “Love spells are a gross affront against consent and should have been outlawed years ago,” he said gently.

Little Alfed Loose sneezed in his face.

“For getting a baby when you can’t make one yourself,” Mendy Hark said, one hand squeezing her daughter’s shoulder protectively.

Jame, wiping his face, didn’t say anything.

————————

“So how’s one get a witch anyway?” Lukey Keening asked, continuing the conversation from several days ago without preamble, as he tended to do. He and his overly long teenage limbs were sprawled in the grass of the meadow where the families of Oak street gathered once a week for a community meal, conspicuously not helping.

The eldest Loose girl, siblings hoisted on either hip, made a thoughtful sound. “You don’t get one, I think, they get you.”

“I don’t wanna get gotten,” one child on her hip sniffled.

“That’s only bad witches that get you,” Lukey said.

Lettie sighed. “No, I mean, you don’t do something to get a witch, they come to you.”

“That’s right, girly,” Margo Clay said from her perch watching over a pot of stew on the open fire. She had not been invited. Like witches, Margo simply appeared without being fetched. “But I tell you what, you can make them know you want one.”

“How’s that?” Daff Keening asked, arms crossed over his comfortably large belly. His sudden and stout presence made his son scramble up and pretend to be busy helping Lettie wrangle several children, all of whom resembled her as nesting dolls resemble the one they fit inside.

“You make a place ready for her.” Margo’s brash tone, as ever, drew more people from their tasks to pay attention to her. “Like baiting a trap. Can’t expect a mouse to walk into your trap unless you make it look inviting.”

“What do you know about mice?” Sal Hark asked skeptically.

“They’re close relatives of hers,” Jame Clott said, unable to resist. “The better question is, what does she know about witches?”

————————

Margo Clay was an incorrigible gossip, but people who liked gossip liked Margo, so she was listened to anyway.

Catty Loose sent Lettie�� to sweep the empty store and dust the unnecessary amount of shelves. Lukey Keening tagged along to clean the small windows and help keep three small Looses in hand. The gaggle of children in and around the shop drew Jame Clott to poke his head in and see what was going on.

“Well! It looks clean, but it doesn’t look like a witch’s shop,” he declared.

“He’s right, Mama,” Lettie told her mother that evening. “I tossed out all the shriveled up herbs she had in there when I cleaned the shelves. Some of them had crumbled near into dust. But with the shelves empty it doesn’t look much like a witch’s place.”

Catty relayed this to the Macintoshes, who were eager for a replacement witch, in case anybody got cursed like Aida had last year.

“Mmhmm,” Catty said to that.

“I think the Harks have the magic books the old witch left,” Theo Macintosh said. “We can put those in there.”

—————————

Sal Hark brought the books around the shop a few days later, squinting in the sunshine at the man who was already there. “Hey, Jame. Witch showed up yet?”

Jame Clott startled back from the window he was peering through. “Nah, no witch is coming.”

Sal let out a whistle of agreement, but his smile was amused, like he thought Jame was wrong.

“Not with the shop looking that shoddy, anyway,” Jame said with a sniff. “There isn’t even a sign.”

“Blew down in a storm a few years ago, I think,” Sal said. “We know what shop it is, anyhow. Not like we’ve got shops every which way.”

“The witch wouldn’t know, since she’s new,” Jame said testily. If the whole town was going to take up Margo’s logic, they had better be consistent.

“Tell you what, then, you ought to paint a new sign. You’re the only one here who knows which end of a paintbrush goes where.”

Jame shook his head and waved goodbye. He wasn’t making a sign for an empty shop, a shop that would remain empty.

That night he saw Willem look out their kitchen window at that empty shop, something sad and wistful in his eyes, several times during their quiet dinner. Their dinners were always quiet, though they told each other about their days in detail, and debated if Margo’s pumpkins were any good at length. It was the quiet of something missing, the kind of quiet the Loose’s house down the street, full to the brim, had never known.

“Sal Hark said I should paint a sign for the witch’s shop, to make her want to come,” Jame said, surprising himself.

Willem tore his eyes away from the window and looked at him. After a moment, he smiled. “Face it, Jame, they won’t get her to come without your help.”

————————

Jame put up the new sign next week, his back so stiff-straight that nobody dared tease him about coming round to Margo’s thinking, though several people gathered across the street to watch.

The sign was big and square and sturdy, and painted on both sides was an open tome with stylized curls of magic shooting from it. Willem held the ladder steady while he hung it up, and Jame felt almost hopeful. Through the shining little windows passersby could see the neat shop room and the witch’s small collection of spell books sitting on one of the many shelves, and it looked almost inviting.

————————

Margo, who lived outside town, was the first one to realize someone had come to town overnight.

“Your witch is here!” she crowed, all but dancing down Oak Street in the early morning. “What did I tell you? Make it nice and she’ll come!”

“Quiet your racket,” said an irritable Jame, poking his head out his door. “Witch isn’t the word I’d use for you.”

“Wheel tracks!” she yelled at him. “Fresh wheel tracks down the road before I left my farm! Who brings a cart into town except for me and the tax collector? And the tax collector wouldn’t have set up shop in there!” She pointed one victorious finger at the corner shop where Jame’s sign swayed gently in the breeze. A rickety wooden cart was collapsed on the ground below it.

Jame opened his mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Down the street, Catty Loose stuck her head out the window. “Margo, what are you whooping about? Oh my—Lettie! Lettie, find my shawl!” Her head ducked back inside, and before the last copper curl had followed it out the window, she was rushing out the front door, Lettie close on her heels.

Jame snapped his mouth shut and hurried after Margo, Catty, and Lettie, following them to the corner shop. A sleepy bundle of Loose kitlings, a couple of Keenings, a herd of Macintoshes and even a Hark or two were all heading in the same direction.

Someone had moved into the witch’s shop.

There were muddy shoe prints down the stone path, a new blue-checked curtain drawn over the window, and Margo standing triumphantly in front of the house, hands on her hips. “Didn’t I tell you! Didn’t I!”

“So you did,” said Sal Hark, “but quiet, Margo, or you’ll wake her up. She must’ve come in dead of night.”

Margo ignored him. “Well, I hope you all remember this. When I’m right, I’m right!”

Behind her, the witch’s door cracked open.

The girl who opened it was no older than Lettie Loose, and probably younger. Her face was nervous, but as she took in the crowd outside her door, it broke into a shy smile. “Oh. Hello. I didn’t expect... I’m not all set up yet. But I suppose the library can be open now if you want.”

“What?” said Margo.

“Library?” said Catty.

“I knew it,” said Jame. “You didn’t catch yourself a witch. You caught a librarian.”

Margo glared at him, apparently lost for words.

The girl looked back and forth between them. “I’m sorry?”

Margo rounded on her. “A librarian! Is that what you are? Then you have to leave. We’re waiting for a witch.”

The girl’s mouth opened and shut, her eyes big, and then she looked down and sniffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jame snapped, a protectiveness in his voice so fierce that Margo took a step back from both him and the girl. He glared around him, making sure no one else was going to follow Margo’s lead, and then turned back to the girl. All anger dropped out of his face immediately, replaced by a gentle warmth. “Have you got family?”

“Not anymore,” she said. “I’m... I’ve just been taking my library around. That’s my family. I thought we could stay here, maybe, If that’s alright.”

“That’s just fine. We’ve never had a library before, we’re all real grateful you came. Come have breakfast.” He didn’t wait for an answer, already thinking of having a full kitchen, and Willem no longer staring out the window, and needing to find more eggs for breakfast, and who in town might have extra shoes to replace the worn-thin boots on her feet.

A layer of tension seemed to slough off her. She stepped out of her doorway and a few feet onto the path to follow Jame, then paused. Looking back at them, she said, “When you take a book, write the title and your name in the ledger, and return it in two weeks.”

Skipping to catch up with Jame, she grabbed his hand with an easy sort of trust. She turned her face up to him. “If it’s not for a library, why is it full of shelves? Why were there already books there? Why does it have a book sign?”

“Sometimes,” Jame said, “People think they’re waiting for one thing, but they’re really waiting for another.”

“Were you?” she asked.

He saw the moment Willem noticed them through the window, saw hope dawn in his eyes as he watched them come up the path; his husband, and a girl who looked like she needed a home.

“No,” he said. “We were waiting exactly for you.”

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Always By Your Side

Read here on AO3!

Summary: 

The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes.

“If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.”

“That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a semi-contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred.

(Disclaimer: THIS IS THE ONLY BAD PARENT!BRUCE FIC I WILL EVER WRITE OKAY I SWEAR I ALWAYS AVOID THOSE KINDS OF FICS BUT I’M SALTY THAT THEY NEVER ADDRESSED BRUCE PUNCHING TIM IN COMICS SO I HAD TO DO IT MYSELF.)

It doesn’t take long to break into Tim’s apartment. Record time, actually. In less than ten minutes Jason is sliding up the window to Tim’s kitchen and climbing over the sill, easy peasy. He should really talk to the replacement about his lack of security against fellow batkids. “Timbo?” he calls, closing the window and re-locking it. “You here?” He’d better have the right place. It’s so hard keeping track of everyone’s safehouses these days, and Jason is not eager for a repeat of what happened the last time he got it wrong. That old lady looked scared to death when Jason crawled in through the air duct, covered in blood that was only thirty percent his own. (The lady was super understanding when he explained the situation. She even fixed up his stab wound with her sewing kit and made him some freshly squeezed lemonade. Jason drops by every couple of weeks to check in on her and her cats.) But Tim is the priority now. “Come out, come out, you little shit.” Jason crosses the kitchen toward the living room, then stops and backtracks. He opens the fridge for a beer, momentarily forgetting that the kid is a hopeless health nut. Jason resigns himself to a package of deli ham only two days past the expiration date. It smells fine, so it must be safe to eat, right? Of all Tim’s apartments, this one is by and far the nicest, barring the expired deli meats and un-Jason-proof security system. The living room is pristine with white sofas and a glass coffee table, making the whole setup vibe more like a hotel suite than an actual home. Definitely not Jason-proof. He sits right in the middle of the fancy sofa, kicking off his boots. “If you get mud on my carpet, you’re cleaning it up.”

Jason looks up at Tim in the doorway and grins. “Don’t I always?” The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes. “If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.” “That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred. “Just leave whatever data you have here and I’ll look it over in the morning.” “Again, not why I’m here.” “Then can you just tell me whatever it is so I can go back to bed?” It’s five in the afternoon. “Well, jeez, kid. You don’t have to rush me out the door.” Tim’s eyes flit to the ground and stay there, giving the impression of a puppy put in his place. “Sorry.” Jason eyes Tim carefully. He takes in the timid stance, the way Tim wrings and twists the sleeve of his sweatshirt until it’s stretched beyond saving. He clearly hasn’t showered or even bothered tending to his face, like keeping the wound fresh is his way of punishing himself. “You doing okay?” “Fine, why?” “Because you look like shit, that’s why.” “It’s been a hectic few days. I’ve been meaning to crash for hours.” “How about that bruise you got there? Looks nasty.” Tim touches the bruise as if he forgot it was there, biting back a wince. “It’s fine. I got it on patrol and haven’t gotten around to icing it yet.” “Must have been a big guy to do that kind of damage.” Tim’s eyes narrow. Jason eats his ham, a picture of innocence. “If you’re trying to get me to circle around and ask you about your problems, then I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood to play therapist tonight. You can stay here as long as you want, but I’m going to bed.” He turns and starts toward his bedroom. “You’re really not going to tell me who gave you that bruise?” Tim stops, a shudder running down his spine. He doesn’t turn, not yet. “Did Barbara tell you?” “I can’t believe you didn’t. What, did you think this would all go away if you just kept quiet about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened.” “My ass nothing happened. Bruce hit you last night. He hit you over nothing.” Tim whirls around, fists clenched. “So? I get hit all the time. Am I supposed to have a breakdown every time someone punches me?” “Getting hit by a criminal and getting hit by your dad are not the same thing, and you know it.” “I’m a big boy, Jason. I can handle it.” Jason leans forward, forgetting all about his rancid ham. “You realize how fucked up this is, right?” “Oh, give me a break—” “Hey. The adult is talking now. Our father nearly shattered your jaw a few hours ago and here you are, hiding from him like it was your fault.” Not that Jason blames him for not wanting to be near the manor after what happened; he wouldn’t either if he were in Tim’s place. Hell, he was in Tim’s place. “You weren’t there, Jay. You have no idea what happened.” “Oh, yeah? Enlighten me, then. What gives that asshole the right to put his hands on you?” “The fact that I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place! Bruce was dealing with enough as it was without me making it worse.” “Only if you call trying to help someone ‘making things worse.’ From what Babs told me, you didn’t do Jack shit to deserve what he did.” “I don’t care what Barbara told you. I was there, I know what I did wrong, and I’ve accepted that.” “Except you did nothing wrong.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tim’s voice is raised, his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t see how upset Bruce was. He wasn’t himself. I should have seen that and backed off, but I didn’t. He was hurting and angry, and...I provoked him. It was my own fault.” “Do you have any idea how insane you sound? You tried to help him, and he punched you in the face for it. I know you’ve dealt with this exact situation a million times, you know the protocol.” Tim rolls his eyes. “This is completely different.” “Why? Because you’re not a minor? Because Bruce isn’t your father? Or maybe because you threw the first punch? Oh, wait. None of those are fucking true.” “What do you want from me? Do you want me to start crying, call up child services and tell them that my adoptive father gave me a little bruise because I was being insubordinate while we were all dressed as vigilantes? Will that magically ease your conscience?” “I want you to stop fucking covering for him,” Jason says. “You know that there’s no excuse for a parent hurting their child.” “I’m not a child!” “Sorry to break it to you, pal, but you fucking are! And Bruce? He’s your father. It doesn’t matter if you’re twelve or seventeen or thirty—his job is to be a fucking parent to you. And instead he punched you so hard Babs said you were unconscious for a good thirty seconds.” Tim crosses his arms and leans on the wall. He doesn’t try to come closer or sit on any of the furniture, keeping his distance from Jason. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Maybe those rules apply to normal people, but we’re different. Violence and anger, that’s how this family communicates. Hell, Bruce and I spar all the time and you’ve never lectured me about it being abuse until now.” Jason runs a hand over his face, thoroughly done with this shit. “I can’t believe you’re still trying to rationalize this.” “Because it’s a rational thing!” “Is it?” “Yes.” “Would you ever hit him?” “It wouldn’t be the first time.” “No, I’m not talking sparring or some stupid teenage angst-fueled outburst. I’m asking if you, Tim Drake, would ever intentionally hurt Bruce in a way that would do damage. Even if he did something shitty to deserve it. Would you hurt him?” Tim hesitates. He bites his swollen lip. “I might. If I were really angry.” “We both know that’s bullshit. The guy’s got a hundred pounds on you and your hand would probably shatter if you tried to sock him in the face, but you still wouldn’t hurt him.” “So?” “So, he knows you’re a twig and he beat the shit out of you anyway. That’s not fucking okay.” “It wasn’t on purpose,” Tim says, but he’s losing momentum by the second. He looks years too tired for this conversation as it is. “It was...instinct. A spur-of-the-moment reaction. It’s not—I mean, he’s Bruce. He would never hurt us intentionally.” “He already did.” “And I’m perfectly fine. It’s not like he punched Damian or Cass, just me. He knew I could take it, and he was right. I’m fine. This bruise will heal up in a couple days, and then we can all forget it ever happened.” “I won’t.” “Why not? Why are you being so goddamn uptight about this? It has nothing to do with you, anyway.” Jason can feel his eyes smolder Lazarus green as he surges forward and hisses, “It has everything to do with me.” Tim flinches. It’s not major, barely even counts as a real flinch, but it happens. Tim flinches away from Jason, and the anger dissipates as quickly as it came. Jesus, what did Bruce do to this kid? Jason sits back, takes a breath, tries to make his voice gentler. “Bruce hurt me too, okay?” Tim’s expression doesn’t change but for a twinge of his eyebrows. “It was a misunderstanding, but...he hurt me. Badly. I was out of commission for two fucking months. Probably would have died if it hadn’t been for Roy.” That gets a reaction. Tim’s mouth drops open and he flounders for a moment, like he can’t put the two things together. Bruce attacking Jason? No results. Does not compute. “What—why would he do that?” “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that, as irritating as you are, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” Like he has any right to be saying this. Tim still has the scar on his neck from when Jason’s brains were made of gruel. “Not by a parent. Not by someone you’re supposed to trust. So this is me looking out for you, alright?” Jason reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a crumpled paper. “I know you’ve got your own setup for when you need time away from the manor, but these are all of my addresses and phone numbers. If something like this happens again, I want you to call me.” Tim takes the paper but protests, “It’s okay, really. I don’t need—” “Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to be coddled. I get it. But keep it anyway. And if you start feeling unsafe at the manor, you call me and I’ll take care of it. I already gave Damian, Cass, and Duke copies too. Just...look out for yourself, alright? All of you. Look out for each other.” Tim folds up the paper and slips it into his back pocket. “What about you?” “The old man and I are…” That’s a whole other can of worms Jason really isn’t in the mood to unpack right now. “It’s still rocky between us. I’m keeping my distance. But for you guys, I don’t care. If one of you needs help, I’ll be there. Got it?” Tim blinks, and lucky for him, Jason is courteous enough not to make fun of the tears he is clearly holding back. “Thanks, Jay.”

[malarkay]

To Walk With Dreams and Darkness

Chapter two up!  For the perusal of the two of you who are actually seeing this and, presumably, reading it.  Thanks, gatorkid509 and yami268!

Chapter 2: Goodbyes and Greetings

Piper pushed her eggs around her plate as she tried to decide how to tell her family about her being magical.  "Hey, eat up," Robert told her as he deposited a pancake onto her plate and dusted it with confectioner sugar.  "Florence said the train leaves at 11:00 sharp, with or without you on it."

 "I'm just not very hungry," she told him as he gave Finn and Aaron each a pancake before returning to the stove to get a new batch from Agatha.  She had barely finished her sentence before Finn snatched the pancake from her plate.  "Hey!"

 "What?  You said you aren't hungry.  I am!"

 "Finn, we do not steal food off other people's plates in this house," Agatha chided from where she was pouring the last bit of batter into the pan.

 "But she didn't want it!"

 "Yes, I did!"

 "You're only saying that because I took it!"

 "It's a pancake! Of course I wanted it!"

 "Then don't say you're not hungry!"

 "You don't have to be hungry to eat a pancake!"

 "It helps!"

 Beside Finn, Aaron just shook his head slowly as he quietly ate his own breakfast.  Robert came back and gave her two pancakes, then added another one to Aaron's plate.

 "What about me?"

 Robert gave Finn 'The Look' and waited.

 "May I please have another pancake?"

 "Yes, you may, thank you for asking so politely," Robert told him, giving him one more.  He added the rest to his own plate while Agatha came to join them with her own.  

 "Are you excited, Piper?" she asked.

 "Nervous."

 "That's understandable. I think everyone is feeling a bit out of sorts this morning," Agatha said, looking at Finn, whose brow was furrowed in a frown as he shovelled food into his mouth.

 "You're going to be just fine," Robert said.  "People are going to love you."

 She smiled at him, and breakfast finished up without any further arguments.

 Ms Davies arrived a little after 9:00 and pulled her aside as Robert loaded her things into the boot of their car.  "Have you told them?"

 "Not yet.  I didn't want them to think I was crazy, so I thought I'd wait until we get to King's Cross Station.  If what Professor Skeelur told me about how to get onto the platform is right, then there's no denying that magic is real when they see it for themselves."

 "Well, you're not wrong about that," Ms Davies agreed.

 All six of them couldn't fit into one car, so they split up for the ride to King's Cross.  She and Aaron went with Ms Davies, while the Wrights took Finn with them.

 "Promise me you'll write," Aaron told her as they drove.

 "Of course I'll write," she assured him.

 "Every week."

 "I'll do my best, as long as you do the same."

 "I will.  And if you have any problems with any of the other kids and you can't handle it, not that you won't be able to handle it, but if you can't, let me know.  I'll come up there, and I'll deal with them!"

 She laughed.

 "I mean it!"

 "I know you do. That's very sweet, but I don't think you're going to have to."

 Once at King's Cross, they reunited with the others.  "Where'd you put your ticket, Piper?" Robert asked her.  "We need the platform number."

 "Um, about that," Piper said, pulling her ticket out of the messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder.  "There's something you need to know first."

 "You're having second thoughts?" Finn asked.

 "No.  It's just the school I'm going to; it's no ordinary school."

 "Pfft, okay, we knew that already.  It's for super-smart kids like you," Finn said dismissively.

 "Not exactly. It's, well, it's easier if I show you. We need to get to Platform 9 ¾."

 She watched for their reactions.  Robert and Agatha exchanged concerned glances before looking to Ms Davies for confirmation. Aaron looked confused while Finn laughed.  "Good one, Piper.  Seriously, is it platform 9 or 10?"

 "Platform 9 ¾," Ms Davies confirmed.  "You have to run at the wall that separates platforms 9 and 10."

 "I'm sorry? Florence, we've known each other a long time, but this sounds absurd," Robert said.

 "You want us to run into a wall?" Agatha asked.

 "No, I want us to run through a wall."

 The Wrights still looked rightfully sceptical, so Piper spoke up.  "Let's just go, and then Aaron, Finn and I will show you."  

 Robert shook his head but gestured for her to lead the way.  "Alright, but I really don't want to spend the rest of the day in hospital while the three of you get patched up."

 For their parts, Aaron and Finn looked excited at the prospect of either running through or into a brick wall.  When they got to the column between the two platforms, they backed up to give themselves a good running start.  "Okay, on the count of three," Aaron said.  "One."

 "You're really not even a little bit hesitant?" she asked them.

 "No, we trust you. Two."

 "This is the stupidest thing we've done all week!" Finn said, grinning.

 She glanced over to her foster parents.  Agatha was shielding her eyes from what she must assume would be imminent disaster. Robert stood with a hand covering his mouth, looking perplexed.

 "Three!"

 They raced each other to the column, and when they reached the brick, there was a moment of darkness as they passed through, and then they were on the other side.  The platform was packed with families seeing their children off to school.  On the tracks behind them was the Hogwarts Express, an impressive-looking steam locomotive, all shiny red and black and looking brand new even though she had read that it was 150 years old.    

 "Awesome!" Finn yelled, drawing several eyes toward them.  "This…this is magic!  You're magic?"

 "I'm magic!"

 "The school you're going to is a magical school?"

 "Yes."

 "That's so cool! And unfair!  Why can't we be magic, too?"

 "It's a rare gift," Ms Davies said from behind them.  They turned to see that she and the Wrights had made the journey through the platform.  The Wrights were looking around as if they thought they were having a shared nervous breakdown.

 "Aww."

 "By the way, the school isn't named Saint Cyprian's," Piper explained to the Wrights and Aaron while Finn was busy pouting.  "It's called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  When you write, just put my name and the school's name on the envelope and drop it into the post.  Professor Skeelur said it will get to me."

 "I don't understand. That professor didn't look like a wizard," Agatha said faintly.

 "To be fair, Ag, Piper doesn't look like a witch," Robert replied.

 "None of them do," Aaron said, looking around.  "Aren't witches supposed to be green?  With warts?"

 A girl a few years older than them shot him a dirty look as she passed, shaking her head. "Bloody stupid Muggles," she muttered under her breath.

 Piper crossed her arms, "That's just in the movies."

 "They do dress kinda funny, though," Finn said, getting over his disappointment.

 It was true.  While everyone was wearing Muggle clothes, not everyone was doing a very convincing job of it.  Most of the kids had managed to pull together a look that wouldn't raise too many eyebrows.  The same couldn't be said for the adults.   One woman in the crowd was wearing an elaborate ball gown, which wouldn't automatically be a problem except that it was 10:50 in the morning on a Wednesday.

 "Well, they do have their own world that's separate from ours," Piper reasoned. "It makes sense they dress a little differently."

 "As much as I'd love to stand here and discuss wizard fashion, we better get you and your luggage boarded," Robert said.  "The train leaves soon."

 Piper nodded and turned to Aaron first, hugging him.  "I'm going to miss you," she told him.

 "I'm going to miss you, too.  But you'll be back for Christmas.  And we're going to write each other all the time," he reminded her.  "It'll be like you never left!"

 She let him go and turned to Finn.

 "Well, I'm not gonna miss you even a little," Finn said.

 "Good, because I'm not going to miss you either."

 "I suppose you expect a hug."

 "This is the last time we're going to see each other for the next three and a half months, but I'm not going to twist your arm."

 He scoffed and hugged her, surprising her a little with the fierceness of it.  She hugged him back just as tightly, and he buried his face in her shoulder.  She felt a bit of dampness seep through her shirt.  "Are you crying?" she whispered, even as she felt her own eyes start to sting.  

 "No," he lied.

 They broke apart after a long moment, and Aaron threw an arm around Finn's shoulders as she went to hug Agatha goodbye.  She even hugged Ms Davies.  Once her goodbyes were said, she and Robert went and got her trunk settled into the luggage van.  After that, there was nothing left to do but board the train herself.

 Students crowded the corridor, congregating to greet old friends or looking for a compartment to settle down in.

 She picked her way slowly down the corridor, searching for a seat. The compartments were filling up fast, but she managed to come across one that carried only three occupants, two boys and a girl who all looked to be fellow incoming first years.

 "Do you mind if I sit in here?"

 The three looked at her appraisingly before exchanging glances, coming to an unspoken consensus. One of the boys, a stocky kid with shaggy brown hair, spoke, "Compartment's full."

 She put her hands on her hips, frowning at the blatant lie. If they didn't want her around, the least they could do was have the guts to be honest about it. "It doesn't look full to me."

 The group's spokesperson scowled, but it quickly shifted into a grin as he looked over her shoulder and waved to someone behind her. "Lark! Saved you a seat!"

 Piper glanced around and spotted the girl from the wand shop. Their eyes met, but if she recognized her, she did a good job of not showing it.  "How very thoughtful of you, Alex," she said dryly as she slipped past Piper to join them.

 "You know me, always thinking," the boy said.  "Besides, I haven't seen you since you've been back.  We've got a lot to catch up on."  He looked back to the doorway, feigning surprise that Piper was still there.  "I thought I already told you that there's no more room.  Find somewhere else to be.  Oh, and close the door for us on your way out, would you?"

 "Close it yourself!" Piper turned on her heels and stormed off. Her departure was met with a chorus of snickers from the group.  In her annoyance, she failed to watch where she was going and ended up nearly bowled over a lanky boy with ginger hair.

 "Whoa!" He reached out to take hold of her shoulders, steadying them both after their collision. "Are you alright?"

 "Yes, I'm fine," she snapped and immediately felt terrible.  "Sorry I ran into you," she told him more gently.

 "It's okay.  And are you sure you're fine?  Because I might not be if I had to deal with that gang of tossers."

 She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "You saw that?"

 "Yeah. You're better off, honestly. You don't want to be friends with them."

 "You know them?"

 "Well, no, not personally," he admitted with a slight frown. "More by reputation. Come on, let's find somewhere to sit, then we can talk more."

 She trailed along behind him until he found a compartment that was empty save for a blonde girl.

 "Mind if we join you?" he asked her.

 "Not at all. I'm Dierdra Macmillan."

 "Bill Weasley. And this is," he paused to let Piper introduce herself.

 "Piper Cochran," she said, sitting next to Dierdra. Bill sat across from them.

 "Is this your first year at Hogwarts?" Dierdra asked. They both nodded. "Mine, too. I can't wait! What House do you think you'll be sorted into?"

 "My mum and dad were both in Gryffindor," Bill answered. "It wouldn't surprise me if I'm put there."

 "My father was in Ravenclaw, my mother in Hufflepuff.  But I'm not sure where I'll be placed, honestly."

 Piper's face grew hot as they spoke. She curled up in her seat and tried to stay out of the conversation, but Bill had other plans.

 "I'd wager Piper is going to be sorted into Gryffindor. You should have seen how she had a run-in with a group of bullies and didn't let them intimidate her," he grinned.

 Dierdra's face twisted as if she'd been force-fed a lemon. "Bet I can guess who you're talking about. Alex Nott and his friends?  I saw them earlier."

 "Do you know him?"

 "Unfortunately. We're distant cousins on our mothers' sides.  Not distant enough for our paths to never cross, sadly.  He's always been an insufferable prat."

 "My condolences."

 "Thank you. Anyway, I don't understand why the Ministry is even allowing the children of Death Eaters to attend Hogwarts."

 Bill shrugged. "You can't really punish them for what their parents did, can you?"

 Piper chewed her lip as curiosity warred with her embarrassment over not understanding what they were talking about. In the end, curiosity won. "What's a Death Eater?"

 Dierdra looked at her in surprise before realization lit her face. "Oh, you're Muggle-born! Why didn't you say so? Death Eaters were followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

 Piper's lack of comprehension must have shown because Dierdra elaborated, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a dark wizard who believed Pure-bloods should rule the world. A lot of good people who disagreed with that died in the war against him."

 Piper gaped at her, "There was a war? When?" How could there have been an entire war going on right under their noses, and they had never noticed?

 "It went on for practically our whole lives. It just ended last October when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was finally stopped. As for his followers, a lot of them have been sent to Azkaban."

 "And a lot of others managed to lie their way out of trouble," Bill added.

 "Or buy their way out of it," Dierdra added with distaste. "And who knows how many others are out there who haven't been caught yet?"

 "So those kids back there, you're saying their parents are Death Eaters?"

 Dierdra shrugged, "The Ministry suspected Thaddeus Nott of being one.  They even put him on trial, but in the end, they couldn't prove it. That's Alex's uncle, though.  They never suspected his father, but as someone who has met the man, I can tell you that the odds are good that he was one, too.  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

 "The Cyclonis' definitely were," Bill said. "It was a real shock when that came out after they died. Cyneric Cyclonis had a good reputation within the Ministry. My dad works there, too.  He says a lot of people thought it was only a matter of time before he'd run for Minister for Magic and that he'd probably win."

 "How'd they die?"

 "No one knows. My dad says it was probably You-Know-Who," Bill answered.  "He'd do that, sometimes, kill his own followers if they upset him badly enough."

 "Was there never an investigation?"

 "There was, but…"

 "But what?"

 "But they were Death Eaters.  The Ministry wasn't going to put too much effort into solving the murder of a couple of Death Eaters, no matter how popular they may have been before their secret came out," Dierdra finished bluntly when Bill hesitated.

 "That's awful."

 "A lot of awful things happened in the war," Dierdra said, in a tone that suggested that the story they had just told her was amongst the least of them.

 Piper knew what it felt like to lose both parents. Dierdra may not feel any sympathy toward Lark, but Piper couldn't help it. But the way that Bill and Dierdra spoke made the Death Eaters sound more like terrorists than soldiers in a war. She couldn't make herself feel too bad for Lark's parents in that case. Still, it'd drive her crazy if her parents were murdered, and no one cared enough to find out who did it or why.

 "You still with us, Piper?"

 "Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking."

 "That was a lot of information we hit you with all at once," Bill said apologetically. "I'm sure the school library will have old copies of The Daily Prophet if you want to read up on the war. Some of the stories are pretty bad, though."

 Piper nodded, "I'll take a look. I want to be able to understand what people are talking about, after all."

 "You'll get used to the wizarding world pretty quickly," Dierdra assured her. "It can't be all that different from the Muggle one, can it?"

 Piper laughed. Just from what she'd seen so far, she knew they were very different. "You have no idea."

 "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

 Piper looked toward the door where a kindly looking old woman stood with a trolley laden with sweets.

 "I brought something from home, thank you," she said.

 "Me, too," Bill said.

 "What?" Dierdra sounded absolutely scandalized. "Piper, you at least have to get your first chocolate frog."  She hopped out of her seat and handed the trolley attendant some money. "Three chocolate frogs, please."

 She was handed three fancy looking boxes. She passed one to Piper, one to Bill, and retook her seat with the third.

 "Thanks, Dierdra, but you really didn't need to buy us anything," Piper said.

 "But I wanted to. Open it up! Each chocolate frog comes with a collectable card."

 Piper pulled off the seal that held the box closed and flipped open the lid. As she did, the chocolate frog within leapt right out of the box. She made a grab for it, snatching it out of midair before it could hit the ground.

 "Whoa, nice reflexes!" Bill exclaimed.

 She held the squirming frog out at arm's length. "Is it supposed to do that?" she yelped.

 Dierdra covered her mouth. She was trying not to laugh and not doing a good job of it. "Sorry! I know I should have warned you, but I really wanted to see your reaction."

 "The frogs are enchanted," Bill explained with a grin. "They're fine to eat once they stop moving."

 Piper tentatively opened her hand. Luckily, the frog's enchantment really had worn off, and she was able to put the now still frog back in the box after retrieving the card.

 She looked down at the pentagonal card. A blonde-haired woman wearing an old-fashioned aviator cap and goggles smiled up at her. At the bottom of the card read the name Jocunda Sykes. As she watched, the woman waved and snapped off a little salute.

 "They're animated!"

 "Well, sure, why wouldn't they be?"

 She flipped the card over. There was a little blurb about Jocunda's accomplishments printed there. She was the first witch the fly across the Atlantic Ocean on a broom back in 1935. Piper thought that sounded like a lot of fun.

 "Are we going to learn how to fly on a broom at Hogwarts?"

 "Of course! Not only that, but if you're any good at it, you can try out for your House Quidditch team."

 "Quidditch? Oh!  There was a shop in Diagon Alley that had that in its name, but I didn't think to ask what it meant."

 Dierdra and Bill grinned at each other.

 "You might as well get your lunch out and make yourself comfortable; we've got a lot to talk about."

 ~*~*~

 Talk they did, until some older students came along, walking down the corridor and knocking on doorframes. "One hour to Hogsmeade Station. Time to start thinking about changing into your robes."

 Dierdra pointed a finger out into the corridor. "Out, Bill. We'll change first."

 Bill went to stand out in the corridor, and Dierdra slid the door closed, pulling down the window shade.

 They changed into their uniforms without much chin-wagging, so they didn't keep Bill waiting too long. Piper had to admit that she felt a little silly as she slipped her robes over her uniform.

 Once ready, they swapped places with Bill. By the time they were all dressed, the older students were making their rounds again. "Half an hour to Hogsmeade Station! Make sure you have everything you brought with you! The train won't be coming back until the Christmas holiday!"

 Before she knew it, the train was pulling into the station. They made their way to the exit and stepped out into the night. The station bustled with activity.

 "All luggage and pets over there! They will be brought to your dormitories!"

 "Second through seventh years, make your way to the carriages! Four students per carriage, please! We won't have a repeat of last year! Looking at you, fifth-year Gryffindors!"

 "Firs' years? Firs' years this way, follow me!"

 Piper and the others followed the sound of the last booming voice and discovered that it belonged to an immense man with long dark hair and a beard. He was broad, but more than that, he was tall. Taller by far than anyone she had ever seen before. Twice her height, easily, and then some!

 Looking around, she saw many of the others openly gawking at him. So, some things took even wizarding children by surprise. Good to know.

 He led them to the edge of a lake, where a small fleet of rowboats waited.

 "Alrigh' then, in the boats yeh go!" he told them, overseeing them all. They sat four to a boat. Piper, Bill and Dierdra were joined by a boy who introduced himself as Liam Logue.

 Once all the first years settled into their boats, the giant man stepped into one of his own. It creaked loudly under his weight but stayed afloat. His boat moved of its own accord, pulling out in front of all the others, and all the other boats followed.

 She looked out over the lake to their destination and inhaled sharply. An expansive castle rose from the craggy shores at the far side of the lake. A gibbous moon rose into the clear, starry skies behind it, casting its glowing reflection into the lake in front of them. It was beautiful. A low murmur of appreciation rippled through the fleet of boats at the view.

 As they drew nearer to the castle, the man called out, "Watch yer heads!"

 She ducked slightly as the boat glided through an ivy-covered opening in the cliff. They sailed on through an underground tunnel before coming to a stop on a rocky shore. They climbed out and followed the man up a flight of stone steps to a heavy wooden door. The man knocked three times, loudly, and the door swung open.

 They followed him into a large entry hall, coming to a stop in front of a strict looking woman with her black hair pulled into a tight bun.

 "Professor McGonagall," the man greeted. "The new firs' years for yeh."

 "Thank you, Hagrid," the woman replied. "Follow me," she said to them. She led them across the large entrance hall, stopping before another large door.

 She turned to address them. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. But first, there are a few things you should know. There are four houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each of you will be sorted into one of these houses, where you will remain throughout your years here. Over the course of the year, you will have many opportunities to win your house points. Any misbehaviour, however, may lead to the deduction of points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the house cup. Now then, are you all ready?"

 They all nodded, and Professor McGonagall pushed open the doors, striding into the Great Hall beyond. They trailed after her, and Piper stared in wonder. Four long tables stretched along the length of the hall, two on each side of the walkway they followed the professor down. Dozens of kids already sat at each table, watching them. At the head of each table hung a banner depicting what she assumed was each house's crest. Green and silver emblazoned with a serpent, blue and bronze with an eagle, scarlet and gold with a lion, and yellow and black with a badger.

 Hundreds of candles floated in midair above them, casting a soft flickering glow throughout the hall. The ceiling, well, she wasn't sure there was a ceiling. It looked exactly like the night sky had outside. Even the phase of the moon was the same.

 Upon a raised dais, at the front of the hall, sat another long table where the teaching staff sat. She spotted Professor Skeelur amongst them and tried not to gawk.  His hair was styled into a tousled quiff; the long top section dyed green while the shorter sides were purple. Even his goatee was purple. He was dressed in robes, black with silver trim on the outside, but with a violently fluorescent lime green lining that glared out from the inside of his hood and sleeves.  She could just imagine the look on her foster mother's face if he had shown up to their house looking like that. Aaron and Finn would think it was the wickedest thing ever, though. She felt a twinge at the thought of them. She really wished they could be here, too.

 In front of the table, right in the centre of the dais, sat a stool with a wide-brimmed, pointed hat sitting atop it. The hat looked ancient and worn, and she wondered what purpose it served in all of this.

 Professor McGonagall led them right up to the steps leading up to the dais before climbing the steps herself to stand behind the stool.

 An expectant silence fell over the hall, and after a moment, the hat began to sing.  Because, of course it did.

 Before I Sort you all tonight, there's one thing to make clear,

A note to both the tall and small that I find apt this year.

When Godric, Helga, Rowena and Salazar began,

They joined forces to achieve their illustrious grand plan.

For all four were well aware that they could not unaided,

See their great ambition reached; they were not yet so jaded.

So all together they succeeded in their common quest,

To build a school that the wizarding world would name the best.

And while it's true that each had certain values that they sought,

When it came time to fill these halls, it's everyone they taught.

So, while it is my job to place in Ravenclaw the wise,

And make sure that it is the true that Hufflepuff comprise,

And while in Gryffindor it is that boldness must reside,

And into Slytherin go those whose aspirations guide,

I bid you to remember that united we are strong,

And don't forget that each and every one of you belongs.

 "When I call your name, come up and take a seat on the stool," Professor McGonagall said once the hat fell silent.  She retrieved a scroll of parchment from a pocket in her robes, unrolled it, and called the first name.

 "Agarwal, Arjun."

 A nervous-looking boy wearing a black turban climbed the steps and took a seat, and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. They all waited in eager anticipation to see what would happen next. They weren't kept waiting long. About fifteen seconds later, the hat called out, "Hufflepuff!"

 The kids at the yellow and black table broke into applause, and the boy smiled and hopped off the stool to join them.

 She watched as the same scene played out for a couple more kids, and then the professor called out, "Avery, Josephine."

 Piper frowned. She recognized the plump, bespectacled girl as part of the group that had rebuffed her on the train.

 Less than ten seconds went by before the hat yelled, "Slytherin!"

 The green and silver table burst into loud applause as she joined them.

 "Boo!" someone called from the scarlet and gold table, and Professor McGonagall shot them a look that Piper was very happy to not be on the receiving end of.

 "Decorum, ladies and gentlemen," the professor said sharply. "This is your one reminder! Brimble, Claudia."

 "Gryffindor!"

 That was met with riotous celebration by the scarlet and gold table.

 Bryne, Elliott and a pair of twins by the name Cadwallader all went to Hufflepuff. And then...

 "Cochran, Piper.'

 She slowly mounted the steps and sat on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head, and the brim slipped down over her eyes, obstructing her view of the Great Hall.

 She nearly jumped when a voice spoke to her. 'Let's see what's in this head of yours, shall we? Hmmm, interesting. You're quite intelligent, aren't you? I see a great deal of curiosity. You're studious and creative. You'd do very well in Ravenclaw. Very well, indeed.'

 She waited for the hat to shout that out to the rest of the room. Instead, the hat spoke again.

 'Not so fast. I'm not done with you yet. There's more here. I see bravery. I see a desire to do the right thing. You're someone who won't tolerate injustice when you see it, who won't back down from a fight. Fine traits in a Gryffindor.'

 Again, she waited for the hat to make its announcement, and again it did not.

 'I haven't decided yet. You're a difficult case. I believe you'd excel in either house. But what about you? What do you think?'

 'I don't know,' she thought to the hat. 'I don't know enough about either house to decide.'

 'You don't need to know anything about them. You just need to know yourself. What matters to you?'

 'I don't know!' she thought, frustrated. 'I want...'

 'Yes?'

 'I want to feel like I'm part of something, like a team or a family. I already miss mine. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited about learning magic. Really, really excited! But I worry I'll end up too homesick to enjoy it.'

 'I see. Each house is like a family to its members, but it is true that some form closer bonds than others. Of the four, Ravenclaw is the most individualistic. And so, I believe, the matter is settled.'

 "Gryffindor!"

 The hat was pulled off her head, and she made her way to the cheering Gryffindor table.

 "I told you!" Bill said as she passed him, and they grinned at each other.

 She found a place to sit at the table, getting handshakes and backslaps from everyone within arm's reach. She couldn't stop smiling as she turned her attention back to the sorting.

 "Coventry, Maximus."

 That did make her smile falter a bit. The scrawny kid with dark, curly hair who took his place on the sorting stool was the other silently judgmental boy from the train. It came as no surprise to her when the hat called out, "Slytherin!"

 "Everyone is getting sorted so fast," she commented to an older girl who sat next to her. "When I was up there, it felt like it took forever!"

 "You actually were up there for a while," the girl told her. "Close to two minutes. Some people aren't as easy for the hat to figure out as others. It's not a bad thing. The hat wants to make sure you end up in the house that's right for you. I don't think I'd trust it if it sorted everyone in five seconds."

 "I suppose that's true," Piper conceded as she turned her attention back to the ceremony.

 "Cyclonis, Larkspur."

 Piper expected her to be sorted as quickly as the Coventry boy, but ten seconds passed, and the hat remained silent. Fifteen seconds. Thirty. A minute. It was a minute and a half before the hat made its decision.

 "Slytherin!"

 "See?" the older girl told her reassuringly. "It's not uncommon."

 The sorting went on for some time. Their boat mate Liam went to Hufflepuff. Dierdra ended up in Ravenclaw. Alexander Nott landed in Slytherin. Eventually, the group was whittled down to three.

 "Weasley, William."

 The hat had scarcely settled on his head before it declared, "Gryffindor!"

 He took a seat across from her and smiled. "Mum and Dad will be happy."

 Winters, Gideon was sorted into Hufflepuff and Woodlock, Aisling into Ravenclaw. And with that, the sorting was complete.

 The stool and hat were replaced with an elaborate owl lectern, and a man stepped up to address the room. He looked exactly how she expected a wizard to look. He was a tall, thin man draped in midnight blue robes, with long white hair and a long beard. He studied them through gold-framed, half-moon glasses.

 "I'd like to start with a brief announcement. As many of you may have already noticed, Professor Skeelur has returned to us. He will not be resuming his role as Divination professor, however, as Professor Trelawney will be staying on in that position. Instead, he will be taking over the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

 Professor Skeelur stood and gave a jaunty bow as the students applauded.

 "Now then, for those of you who may not know, I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of this school, and it is my pleasure to welcome you all to a new year at Hogwarts. You know, I've always found the beginning of a new school year to be a magical time, a time of new beginnings and new possibilities.  And this year, I feel it even more keenly.  We have been through tumultuous times in recent years.  For some of you, that is all you've ever known.  But we have weathered that storm.  Those days are behind us now, and we are free to look to the future with a renewed sense of hope.  And that is what I feel when I look at all of you now.  Hope.  The hope that we can help guide you into becoming the best possible versions of yourselves.  You are the future of the wizarding world, and it is my fervent wish that your future is a bright one, one full of peace, and prosperity, and progress.  That is the world you deserve to know."

 He paused, letting his words sink in as his gaze slowly swept across the hall.

 When he spoke again, his tone was more light-hearted, "But that's enough talk for one night. Enjoy the feast!"

 With those words, a multitude of steaming serving bowls and platters laden with food appeared in the centre of the table.

 She helped herself to a slice of roast beef and one of baked ham, roast potatoes with garlic and rosemary, Yorkshire pudding, peas and glazed carrots and tucked in for a night of good food and conversation.

 She discovered that the older girl she had spoken to during the sorting was a fifth-year prefect named Cathy Wells. She assured Piper and the other first years within earshot that they could come to her with any questions or concerns.

 She also learned that two other first years at the table were Muggle-born and just as excited as she was to be here learning real magic. Connor Monohan was from Wexford, Ireland, while Edgar Grant was from Leeds.  When they found out that she was from Brixton, they wanted to know all about her experience with the riots from the previous summer. Her foster parents had kept her and her brothers well clear of the violence, but she told them what she could of those days and their aftermath. The conversation fascinated the wizarding kids, who didn't seem to grasp the concept of racial tension until one of the older Muggle-born students compared it to Pure-bloods versus Muggle-borns. That had everyone chiming in with their own stories from that same summer. Apparently, the Death Eaters had been particularly emboldened in the months leading up to You-Know-Who's downfall.

 Cathy only let the conversation get so far before she steered it away from the grim turn it had taken. No one complained.

 The dinner dishes vanished as Bill told them funny stories of his five little brothers and baby sister. In their place, an entire spread of pudding appeared. Being stuffed from dinner didn't stop her from taking a slice of Victoria sponge cake.

 About half an hour later, all the plates disappeared. Professor McGonagall, who Piper had learned was both Deputy Headmistress and the Head of Gryffindor, announced that it was time for the prefects to lead their houses to the dormitories.

 Piper followed Cathy out of the Great Hall and off to the staircases. "Pay attention," Cathy instructed them. "The staircases change, and you don't want to get lost on the way to Gryffindor Tower later when you're all on your own."

 Sure enough, as Piper watched, some of the staircases overhead shifted from one landing to another. "We're this way," Cathy pointed out before mounting the steps. "Seventh floor."

 She led them up several flights of stairs and down a hallway to another spiral staircase that led to a large landing where a portrait of a large woman hung on the wall.

 "The Fat Lady guards our common room entrance," Cathy explained.

 "Password?" the portrait requested.

 "Frabjous day!"

 "Callooh!  Callay!" the Fat Lady replied with a delighted laugh, and the portrait swung open to reveal a round door that opened into a circular common room. The room was warm and cosy, with a fire roaring in a large fireplace. A lion portrait hung above the mantle, and the walls were lined with paintings and tapestries in varying shades of red and gold. Overstuffed scarlet chairs and sofas dotted the room. Several long tables could accommodate multiple students for studying, along with smaller side tables that held books or chessboards. Tall windows were spaced in even intervals along the walls. During the day, the common room was sure to be bathed in sunlight. A few nooks and alcoves were cut into the walls, which would lend a small amount of privacy to the few occupants they would allow. Near the door stood a message board. Cathy explained that they could find announcements such as Quidditch tryouts, club meeting schedules, and changes to the common room password posted there.

 "First-year girls, follow me. I'll show you to your dorm," Cathy said. "First-year boys, follow Matthew. He'll show you to yours."

 She pointed to a blond boy who looked about the same age as Cathy. The boy saluted, "Matt Higgins, at your service."

 Bill and the other boys broke away from the group to follow Matt while Piper and the girls followed Cathy up a side staircase to a room that housed five four-poster beds in a circle around the room, each bed draped with heavy scarlet curtains. Their trunks were placed at the end of the beds for them, and they each had a plain wooden chair and nightstand of their own.

 "Breakfast is served in the Great Hall from 6:30 to 8:30. You'll get your class timetable at breakfast tomorrow. Classes begin at 9:00. Whatever you do, don't be late! We don't want to start the year with negative house points. Curfew is between 9:00 PM and 6:00 AM, except when you have astronomy. Other than that, no wandering the castle in the middle of the night. It's against the rules, but besides that, it's dangerous. Lights out at 10:00.  Bathrooms are one flight up the stairs we took to get here. Any questions?"

 They all shook their heads no.

 "Well then, sleep well!"

 With that, Cathy left them to their own devices. They chatted as they prepared for bed. Her dormmates were Claudia Brimble, Maeve McCarver, Catriona Taggart, and Jocasta Erskine. None of them were Muggle-born, although Claudia and Catriona both had one non-magical parent, so the Muggle world wasn't a completely foreign concept to them. They all seemed friendly, and Piper thought they would probably get on well enough during their time here.

 "We should probably get to sleep soon," she said as she laid out her uniform for the following day. "Like Cathy said, we don't want to be late."

 The others agreed, and soon they were all tucked snugly into bed for the night.

[ineffable-inspirations]

The Eyes Are The Windows Of The Soul

another prompt from @fenrir-kin (VikingFenharel on Twitch), another fic. This one ended up being set while they were body-swapped waiting to meet up in the park. 666 words for Crowley's bit, 777 for Aziraphale's because yes I am just that big of a dork.

Only a slight amount of angst, as they're both traumatized, poor dears, but they repress and press on. I might incorporated this into the first chapter of Ineffable Bastards, but I haven't decided yet.

-----

Crowley went out the back way from their building and took the long way round to the shop, taking pains to hide themself magically as well as physically in case there were observers of any sort. They also took the walk to Aziraphale’s shop at a slow thoughtful pace, though they were doing their best to not actually think about too much of anything the closer they came to the shop. The fire, the grief of losing Aziraphale, was still painfully fresh in their mind.

It wouldn’t do to break down in the middle of the pavement, not when there might be people around who knew the angel on sight. Familiarity might allow them to see through the illusion and Crowley very much did not want that.

They found themself flexing and rubbing at their borrowed right hand a lot, a reaction to the odd weight of Aziraphale’s ring. It made them wondered if that was how the angel had first gotten their habit of fidgeting with it. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it wasn’t pleasant either.

Maybe it’s just reacting to me, Crowley thought, rubbing at it again as they waited to cross the street. Or maybe after 6000 years, you just get used to ignoring it. They rubbed at where the hellish mark on their temple, still firmly affixed to their corporation back in their flat, was somehow giving them a twinge of pain. Not an unusual occurrence, aside from the whole body swap thing, but they’d learned to live with the pain since the Fall. Always felt worse when they were in trouble, and they were certainly that.

It hit them hard, when the shop came into view, dusty windows glittering in the sunlight, walls and roof completely intact, and Crowley-as-Aziraphale stood and stared at it for far longer than they should, seeing it again engulfed in flames in their mind’s eye. “-The show must go on, yeah! Inside my heart is breaking-” The blare of music from a passing car brought them back themself with a start and they stamped down on their emotions and went inside, locking the door behind themself.

They knew the shop; all things considered, they probably knew it better than they knew their own flat, and they took a deep breath and locked away everything that that comforting familiar smell had welling up against their will. It didn’t take more than one glance to see that things were different. The angel had their little ways after all, and anything new stood out like a sore thumb.

“Those are new,” they said to themself, grimacing inwardly to hear how wrong the angel’s voice sounded. Crowley-as-Aziraphale turned to take in the rest of the shop, trying different inflections to capture something at least close to Aziraphale’s usual voice. “Those- those? those...”

Everything was well enough until Crowley caught sight of something in the window. The shock of seeing Aziraphale in the shop overwhelmed them and they collapsed onto Aziraphale’s chair and pressed borrowed hands to grief-stricken eyes welling with the unshed tears of millennia. No, no, no! they scolded, holding their breath until the wail lodged in their throat dissipated into a hoarse exhalation. Keep it together! You’ve got to keep it together! You need to sell it, to oversell it, or they’ll figure it out and then Aziraphale is as good as gone. Are you going to let the arseholes win? This shite can wait until we’re safe.

They kept themself in that position until they were sure they had everything locked down. They stood and faced their false reflection with a slow breath, letting themself worry the ring as they looked over the familiar face in a way they rarely gave themself permission to. When they caught themself beginning to worry about all the ways everything could go wrong, they made themself practise the angel’s voice and expressions until the clock chimed the hour.

Crowley-as-Aziraphale gave themself a grin that was all teeth. “On with the show.”

∞

The wait felt like the worst part of the entire situation, but Aziraphale knew that wasn’t the case. It was just easier to focus on that, than on what was awaiting them. On what was awaiting Crowley. Knowing that Crowley was risking so much for them after everything that had transpired, had the angel feeling unusually restless.

Aziraphale caught themself before they could start wringing their hands and instead stood to pace, almost tripping over their borrowed feet when they didn’t move the way they were used to. “Crowley and their ridiculous sauntering,” Aziraphale-as-Crowley groused, but they immediately felt guilty for thinking harshly of them, not when the demon, when their friend was risking so much. Into Heaven after so long… just to save my life.

But there was more to Aziraphale’s agitation than just guilt. For the first time they could feel the bindings of Hell, the barbed leash that had sought to control Crowley for millennia... and that Crowley had somehow thrived in spite of.

They’d known it existed of course, they had their own binding to Heaven after all, embodied in their golden ring and the pocket watch that allowed them into Heaven. But their own binding was, well, simply put, nicer. It hardly even registered against their senses any more.

Very unlike the Hellish brand on Crowley’s temple. That was a festering wound clawing against Aziraphale’s senses. And what they were feeling wasn’t even close to the real thing, no, it was just the memory of pain they were finding hard to endure.

Aziraphale hadn’t shown it while Crowley was still in the flat to see, but how it tore at them, knowing Crowley had suffered these… wounds, for want of a better word, for millennia. Knowing there was nothing they could do to remedy it, not without putting Crowley in even more danger. Knowing they would likely only fail in the attempt and end up hurting their friend even more. They rubbed at their borrowed face, trying to relieve the stinging ache caused by Crowley’s curse denying them the catharsis of crying. Stupid foolish angel.

“Enough,” they scolded themself in a close approximation of Crowley’s usual tone of voice. “You’ve far more-” No, no, need to use idioms or they’re figure it out for sure and then where will you be? Dead, probably. “Er, bigger fish to fry.” Feet back into proper order, they concentrated on mimicking Crowley’s movements as best they could, fervently hoping that no one would notice that they couldn’t quite imitate Crowley’s gait. Perhaps they’ll dismiss it as nerves?

Bored with pacing the kitchen and dining area, they moved into the inhospitable front room and paced there for a while before becoming tired of the barren space and turning into the office. They froze in the doorway however, and blinked, because there was something not quite right.

They cautiously stepped into the room, taking stock of the still unfamiliar surroundings but not finding anything out of order until they looked out the windows again and realized the scene they’d expected to see there had changed. It took them a moment to realise that it wasn’t even showing London any more. “What in Hel- Hea- Somewhere’s name?”

With some careful metaphysical prodding Aziraphale relaxed to sensed no hostile magics involved, and upon investigating further quite clearly recognised Crowley’s magical signature tied to the very subtle spell worked over the glass. They puzzled over it for a while, shaking their head in fond dismay over the haphazard nature of the spell matrix. What is this for? they wondered. Spying? Entertainment? This part here is tied to the time, and I think this part here is to make it react to touch…

Their unangelic curiosity got the better of them and they warily touched the glass. A large strange image popped up and Aziraphale-as-Crowley started and stumbled backward until they fetched up against the desk, hand to their borrowed chest as they very pointedly did not curse Crowley’s name. “Fiend. You could have at least warned me.”

They shook their borrowed head and turned away from the window and the prompt that had popped up in response to their touch; ‘Open A New Window Somewhere In The World’. Aziraphale shook off their worries as best they could and made themself return to practising the demon’s distinctive walk, letting out a shuddering breath when Crowley’s watch chimed.

It was time. Performance of a lifetime, Crowley had called it, and truer words had never been spoken. They gathered Crowley’s jacket and slipped it on and went out to meet Crowley-as-Aziraphale in the park to discover the full consequences of thwarting the Great Plan.

[vaguelyrotten]

Like a Lily in a Flood

Title: Like a Lily in a Flood Artist: @myulalie Beta: @another-random-stranger​​ Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, mentions of Jimon and Reyhill Word Count: 70k Warnings: Mild Gore, Beheading, Nearly being eaten alive and burned at the stake, Discrimination, Sickness Summary:  Alec returns home to find his town plagued by a mysterious illness. Unable to find a cure, he ventures into the woods to seek help from an unlikely source. We must not look at goblin men... This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2021: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Chapter 6

Alec had chosen to approach on foot. He wasn’t sure how the people in this unknown town would react to a stranger but slow, steady, and with great care seemed to be the ideal way to go. He’d draw less attention on foot and could easily blend in with a crowd if needed. Observe first, his father’s voice repeated in his head. Observe your target and then come up with a plan of attack.

The town was far too quiet as he approached. This time of day, children should be running home for dinner and shops should be closing. Alec frowned, his senses instantly on high alert.

Something was wrong here. It was very, very, very wrong.

The silence had him reaching for the knife that he’d slipped into his belt as he slowly made his way through the apparently deserted town. He kept to the edge, slowly moving against the row of shops in the center of town and keeping his back against the wall. There was nothing here. No sign of people, no sign of life.

It was like the entire town mysteriously...vanished.

A creak from his right startled him and he sent up a silent prayer that he’d managed not to make a sound in his surprise. It had only been a door, swinging open on abused hinges as it caught the wind that had been blowing gently through the street. It was odd that it hadn’t been locked — appearing to be the entrance to someone’s home — but thus far everything about this town had been odd.

He pushed the door open and poked his head inside. “Hello?” He called quietly, straining his eyes to focus in the darkened room. “Is anyone home?”

No response came, but Alec hadn’t really been expecting one. He stepped inside and let the door click quietly behind him. “Hello?” He tried again, this time a little bit louder, as he took his first tentative steps into the foyer. “Your door was open...are you alright?”

Still no response. Alec stepped into the sitting room and tugged a curtain open, giving himself a little more light as he investigated further. He really should go back and get Magnus. Who knew what dangers were lurking in a strangely deserted town?

Just a quick look at the first floor for any sign of what happened. After that, he’d go get Magnus.

The sitting room was dusty and empty. There was no sign of an apparent struggle though it did look like the house had been picked over by thieves. Artwork was missing from the walls where the discoloration in the wallpaper showed where paintings had once been hanging. A few books were tossed carelessly to the floor like someone had been moving them aside to look for far more valuable trinkets.

Finding nothing else of interest, Alec continued to move through the first floor of the house, room by room, until he reached the kitchen. There was a horrid stench coming from behind the door and he pulled his shirt up over his nose to try and block some of the strongest odors. Afraid to find out what he would find behind the heavy oaken door, he pushed.

The smell hit him first, nearly making him gag and bringing tears to his eyes. It wasn’t a corpse, by some small miracle, but a long-forgotten meal that had been abandoned halfway through the cooking process. There were side-dishes on the table that no longer resembled anything close to edible and the carcass of some sort of bird, perhaps a goose, that appeared to have been picked clean by mice and other small scavengers.

So whoever had lived in this house hadn’t planned to disappear without a trace. Why go to all the trouble to prepare a meal if you weren’t going to eat it? He coughed, trying to keep the smell out of the back of his throat and made his way further into the room. In a darkened corner of the room was a small table and…

Alec felt ice cross his heart.

There was someone at the table.

“Hello? Are you okay?” He asked, knowing that with the state (and smell) of the rest of the room, there was no way that whoever it was was okay. There was a very good chance that the body at the table was nothing more than a corpse.

The figure was hunched over the table, her head resting on her hand and her eyes closed as if she’d just briefly taken a seat to rest in the middle of cooking dinner. Unlike the food, the woman — the housekeeper or the cook, most likely — seemed to be frozen in time. She wasn’t decaying or mummified. Her skin looked pristine if not a little grey…

Oh.

Oh no.

He bent down to get a closer look. Her skin wasn’t just grey… it was stone. “Fuck,” he muttered, gently brushing the back of the woman’s hand with shaking fingers to confirm his suspicions.

He needed to get Magnus. He needed to get Magnus now.

He dashed back through the house and out the front door, no longer worried about disturbing someone or getting caught. The strange quietness of the town, the state that house had been in… the illness that had taken over Idris had hit here too...and it seemed it hadn’t left a single person unaffected.

He hadn’t even known there was a town on this side of the woods, let alone one affected by the illness that had been plaguing his town over the last few months. It was a very real look at what the future of Idris was if they didn’t find a cure.

And soon.

“Magnus!” He shouted, once he was close enough to see the purple ribbons hanging from the trees that signified the outer edge of the half-goblin’s wards. “Magnus!”

“Alexander?” Magnus asked, turning with wide eyes as Alec skidded to a stop next to the crackling blue fire that had been started. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he huffed, bending to put his hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. “But — you need to come quick. The town —“

“Alec, calm down. I told you, I can’t go to town. What’s the matter?”

“Magnus, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. There’s no one there. It’s nearly a ghost town. I found a house where the door was left open. Inside was a disaster...almost like it had been looted? But that’s not the point. The kitchen was a nightmare. There was rotten and decaying food like someone had left in the middle of cooking the meal, and Angel did it reek but there was a woman sitting at the table and her skin was stone. I think the illness has taken over the entire town...like it’s doing to Idris.” He panted, trying to get the words out in between gasping breaths. Angel, why was he so tired?

Magnus blinked, his eyes growing even wider at Alec’s statement. “The entire town?”

Alec nodded, standing and grabbing the half-goblin’s hand to lead him back in the direction he’d come. “I saw no one outside of the one woman in the house I’d poked around in. This time of day the shops should have been closing up, kids should have been outside playing...there was nothing but silence. I thought it was odd so I wanted to take a closer look before I came and found you. I never expected to find that.”

“This town is by the river too…” Magnus replied, letting Alec quickly pull him back towards the brick houses. “In fact, it’s probably their main source of water...this close to the spring, whatever was poisoning the water would have been stronger and more potent. Who knows how long they would have been stuck like this…”

“The good news is that they aren’t dead. Like the people back in Idris, they’re… in stasis almost. However, it paints a grim picture if we can’t figure out what’s going on and stop it...and then find a cure.”

Magnus didn’t reply. Instead, following Alec into the house on the main street, hesitating only briefly in the doorway before stepping inside. He wandered through the maze of rooms as the rancid smell from the kitchen grew closer and closer. “Come on, this way.”

Once inside, Magnus flicked his wrist and two glowing balls of light emerged from his fingers and hovered in front of us.”It’ll give us more light — especially as the sun is now setting.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You certainly weren’t kidding about the smell.”

“Who knows how long this stuff has been rotting,” Alec replied, steering them around the large table to the small one in the back corner of the room. “Come on, she’s over here.” He knelt down so he could get a better look at the woman’s peaceful face as Magnus cast his diagnostic spells.

“Well,” The half-goblin said after a few moments, withdrawing the familiar blue aura of his magic and glancing around the room. “It definitely is the same as whatever is tainting the river. Is she the only one or have you found others?”

Alec shook his head. “I haven’t gone farther than the first floor and I came to get you as soon as I found her. We can take a quick peek upstairs to see if there’s anyone there...but I’m guessing we would certainly find others who have fallen ill if we opened the door of any house in this town. It’s… empty.”

Magnus didn’t wait for Alec to lead the way, following the twisting hallways back to the foyer and the staircase at the front of the house. He took the stairs two at a time and jogged down the hallway to the larger room at the end, skidding to a stop right before the door. If, by some miracle, there was an alive and conscious human in what he was assuming was the master bedroom, then letting himself into the room, especially after essentially breaking into the house, could be incredibly dangerous.

Here he was, once again, possibly risking his life for this sweet human boy that stumbled into the forest looking for hope.

Magnus really wanted to give him hope. Hope and happiness and love...oh, the things Alexander was doing to him. He didn’t know the effect he was having on the four hundred year-old half-goblin. One day, when this was all said and done, Magnus would really like to show him.

Alec stepped up beside him, twisting the knob and letting the door swing open with a creak. The room was dark, but Magnus’ magic orbs of light were still following them so they took a step inside. Once they were close enough, Magnus could clearly see that there were two figures lying prone on the bed.

“I’m guessing we found the owners of the house,” Alec muttered under his breath, stepping close enough to illuminate the sleeping figures. Much like the woman downstairs, their skin was hard and ashen. They were both lying on top of the quilt fully dressed in their Sunday best like they had just sat down for a few minutes before they succumbed to the illness.

With the exception of the rancid food that had been left out, it was nearly like this entire house, and, Magnus was willing to guess, the entire town had been frozen in time. He waved his fingers, a steady stream of blue spilling from his fingers once more, and let his magic take a closer look.

Like with the woman downstairs, he felt the same wrongness that he’d felt first in the river and then in his quick diagnosis of Alec the night before. Whatever was in the river was too diluted to really get a good grasp on what exactly the poison was but what he felt in Alec had been a seed — young, dangerous, and eager to take root. What Magnus found in these people was more like an ancient tree whose taproots extended so deep into the earth it would take a force of nature to end it.

He opened his mouth to reply but the heavy front door downstairs swung open with a forceful thump, causing them both to jump. Magnus held his breath, trying to push the fear and negativity out of his mind until they had more information. There was nothing but silence for a few tense moments before the sound of boots echoed on the floorboards downstairs.

Alec held up a finger, taking a few cautious steps closer to the bedroom door and peaking through the crack that he’d left. “This place has been mostly picked over already. I don’t know why he’s got us coming back. I doubt we’re gonna find any more gold and gems in a place like this.”

“It’s not just about gold and gems, you moron.” A second voice answered, though it was muffled by the door and the distance between them. “Anything that could be useful to his campaign...weapons, old family heirlooms that might be magical, land deeds, military intelligence...we’ve found all sorts of shit in these trashy little towns.”

“Yeah but we’ve already been here twice this month. If we were gonna find any of that stuff, we would have done so by now. This is just a waste of our time.”

“Quit your whining, Victor. It’s not like you have anything better to do anyway...and it’s better to be safe than sorry. I, for one, don’t want to be on the other side of Valentine’s temper. Go check the cellar again.I’m going to take a poke around upstairs.”

They heard the thump thump thump of a man trudging his way upstairs and Magnus glanced at Alec with real fear in his eyes. He had his magic, of course. He could defend himself if need be, but they still didn’t know who these men were or how they were armed...not to mention, Magnus was still a half-breed monster in a very human town where he was not supposed to be.

Alec glanced between the door and the window before pulling Magnus to the other side of the room and pushing open the glass. A quick glance outside had Alec hissing as he watched another small group of men stroll down the street, pushing in doors or peeking in windows. This situation had just gotten very dangerous very quickly and they didn’t have time to dwell on it.

They needed to get out.

Now.

Beside the window was a drainpipe and Alec reached around and gave it a good shake as the boots on the stairs came closer and closer. “I assume you can climb considering I first met you while you were halfway up a tree,” Alec asked, already shoving the half-goblin in the direction of the window. Magnus merely nodded, bracing himself on Alec’s shoulder as he climbed on the windowsill and reached for the drainpipe. “Good, then go up. Stay low on the rooftops.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to buy us a little extra time and then I’m going to follow you,” Alec replied, already glancing around the room for what he could use to put his plan into motion. Magnus hesitated and Alec tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Go, Magnus. I’ll be fine, I promise. Like I said, I’ll be right behind you. I wouldn’t lie about that.” He left Magnus to his climb and disappeared back into the room.

The stepswere louder now, echoing in the hallway instead of on the stairs, pausing every once in a while to open the doors that Alec and Magnus had walked right past earlier. He’d noticed a wooden dresser across from the bed when they walked in and he was planning on using that to help stall the men. He knew that he barely had a minute before the bedroom door would open and he would be caught. He needed to act quickly.

Biting back a grunt of effort, he managed to get the dresser to slide a few inches, but he needed it to move at least a few feet. The man in the hallway paused, the sound of the wood grinding against wood having caught his attention, and Alec knew that his time was up. It was now or never. He leaned all of his weight against the dresser and pushed.

The dresser slid across the floor, protesting every bit of the way, but thankfully it didn’t have to go far. When it was finally in place in front of the door, Alec paused for only half a second to make sure it was truly where it needed to be before bolting towards the window.

The man in the hallway had finally realized that he wasn’t alone and had bolted to the end of the hallway. The bedroom door rattled as he tried to push it open, stopped entirely by the dresser that Alec had just pushed in its way. The man shouted — screaming at whoever was in the room to open the door and for his partner who had gone to the cellar — as Alec reached out the window for the drainpipe and began to climb.

The roof wasn’t far; it was only a two story house with an attic, but the drainpipe was smooth with very few foot- or handholds. Alec had never been the best climber in his family — that had been his sister who somehow always to find a way to be exactly where she was never meant to be — but he did have the benefit of pretty decent upper body strength thanks, mostly, to the archery training he’d had when he was younger and had kept up with after he had moved to Alicante.

Magnus was laying on his stomach at the top, having listened to Alec’s order to stay low. The half-goblin grabbed the back of Alec’s jacket and helped pull him the rest of the way up. He lay panting on the terracotta tiles, listening to the shouts of the two men still in the house. They’d give up, eventually, and would call for back-up. Once that happened, Magnus’ magic or not, they would be outnumbered.

They still needed to get out of here.

Out of this town; out of the woods. They needed to put some distance between themselves and Valentine’s men.

Valentine, he recalled, shuddering at the name. He’d have to dwell more on that when they were out of danger. That was a problem for much later in their evening.

“Come on,” he replied tiredly, pushing himself to his feet but remaining in a crouch. “We need to get moving. The dresser in front of the door trick will only work so long before the men get smart. We need to be long gone by the time that happens.” He hadn’t really planned farther than ‘get out of the room and onto the roof’ nor had he been paying too much attention to what was above him when he’d first entered the town but he was praying that the architecture of this town was similar to what it was in Idris.

Close, slanted roofs to help hide them as they moved from housetop to housetop, chimneys to hide them if they suspected they were about to be seen, and a few well placed balconies to help them get down far more gracefully than they’d gotten up...that was what Alec was hoping to see.

He crawled to the edge of the roof, paying particular attention to any tiles that looked loose so that they didn’t draw the attention of the other men that he’d seen below, and let out a sigh of relief when the next roof over appeared to be no more than six feet from where they were currently sitting. Six feet...that was laughably doable almost.

“How do you feel about jumping?” He asked, even though Magnus’ response didn’t really matter. They had one way off of this roof without going back in through the house and that was getting across to the other’s roof.

“I don’t terribly mind the jumping, it’s the falling that I don’t think too highly of.” Magnus replied, glancing down at the cobblestones below with wide eyes.

“You’ve got magic if you fall at least,” Alec replied, taking a few steps to the left where the tiles on the other side looked a bit more secure. “I just have to rely on the fact that I’ve done this a time or two before. One rooftop is just like all the others.” Except the last time he’d done this he’d been twelve and mostly fearless; and he and Jace had been running from a woman in the market because Jace had stolen a pomegranate from her stall. Alec had been innocent but if Jace ran, Alec didn’t want to be left taking the fall for his brother’s messes. Miraculously, they had managed not to kill themselves even though it had taken them an extra half an hour to get home that way. Unfortunately, the woman had beat them to their house and his mother had been waiting for them when they got home.

“Are you telling me that your particularly cautious self has taken an alternate route through the city just for the hell of it? I find that hard to believe.”

Alec laughed softly and took two steps back to give himself a bit of a running start, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Something like that — maybe if you catch me, I’ll even tell you the tale.” He took two long steps and leaped, landing gracefully on the other side of the gap. Magnus gaped, looking between the two rooftops. Alec stood with a smirk, raising an eyebrow in jest.

Magnus finally seemed to get over his nerves and joined the game as he took a running leap and landed not quite as gracefully on the other side, sending a tile crashing to the ground. Alec grabbed his arm to keep him from meeting the same fate, and they both listened as one of the men looting the town raised the alarm. “Well, come on then. We best be getting a move on if we hope to outrun them. Catch me if you can.”

From that point on, it was a game. Alec nearly forgot that they were trying to outrun Valentine’s men, get to their horses, and get the hell out of dodge before they got caught. Magnus’ movements got more fluid when he stopped worrying about being not-so-human caught in a very human town and when he forgot that one misstep could send him hurtling to the ground below.

It was fun.

Alec slid to a stop at the end of the last roof, having long since stopped worrying about giving their position away. Once the first tile had fallen, all attempts at stealth had gone out the window. The slanted roofs, the chimneys, everything had gone according to plan. Except this. He’d been counting on another drainpipe or a balcony or a tiered roof...something at the edge of the very last house to help them get down. He hadn’t been counting on there being nothing.

Magnus glanced behind them as the men got closer to the location and looked back at the trees surrounding the town. “Do you trust me?” He asked, his golden eyes brighter than normal in the setting sun and his hand already outstretched towards the treeline.

“Of course I do,” Alec replied, wondering to himself what kind of question was that? Of course, he trusted Magnus...just as much as he’d trust Jace or Izzy.

The half-goblin grinned and twisted his hand, a steady stream of magic leaving his fingers and disappearing into the woods. The nearest tree creaked, it’s branches twisting and growing rapidly until they were mere inches from the edge of the roof. “Let’s go.” Magnus stepped onto the branch and walked down it as quickly as he could manage without losing balance. Alec heard the men turn onto the nearest street and followed suit.

Once into the woods, they were in Magnus’ playground now. This might not be Edom Forest, but Magnus’ magic was made of the very heart and soul of the forest. From every flower and tree to every bird and bee, they all carried the same spark. Magnus could pull on that now to keep them out of the situation they currently found themselves in.

They jumped off of the tree once they were safely in the forest and darted to where the horses were waiting. There was a shout from behind them as the first of the men reached the trees. Alec nearly threw himself onto Flame’s back, and he watched as Magnus did the same to Elias. Once they had both safely mounted, they took off deeper into the woods. The half-goblin thrust his hand out behind them and Alec twisted in his saddle to watch as thorny vines emerged from the ground to twist themselves around the feet of their pursuers.

“Do you have a plan?” He shouted, trying to make himself heard over the sound of the horses crashing through the undergrowth.

“Not really! I figure if we can get away from the river and put some distance between us and them, that’s a pretty good place to start. We’ll have to set up camp in the dark, but it’s better than the alternative.” Magnus replied, glancing back in the direction that they’d come from to make sure the vines were doing their job and slowing the men down.

The rest of their ride was silent. Alec followed Magnus’ lead, trusting that half-goblin’s sense of direction since he himself had never been in this part of the forest. Magnus brought Elias to a slow walk as a dark shape loomed ahead of them. “It’s an old hunting cabin,” He replied, sending out a wave of blue at the house and letting his magic investigate without either of them risking detection. “Abandoned too, by the looks of it,” he added with a frown, trying to translate exactly what his magic was telling him.

Alec brought Flame to a stop and slid out of the saddle to get a closer look. The door opened with a groan of protest and he strained his eyes against the darkness of the room. It was simple — a bed, a table, some chairs, and a fireplace — but it would be a good place to stay for the night as long as Magnus thought they were safe.

“Did we lose Valentine’s men?” He asked, stepping back outside to find that Magnus had untacked Flame and had tied the gelding on a long lead around the side of the house. He carried Alec’s saddle into the house so it wouldn’t be exposed to the elements and dropped it gently by the front door.

“Between the vines and the horses, they’d need a miracle to catch up with us. We’ll be safe here for the night. We’ll leave at first light to make up for having to go so far out of our way.” He collapsed into one of the chairs and blinked wearily.

Alec frowned, crossing the room and tipping Magnus’ face up. “Are you alright? You look…”

“I’m fine, Alexander, or I will be, but I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help with dinner and the wards tonight,” Magnus replied with a sigh. He folded his arms across the table and rested his head on them. “My power is strongest in Edom. I’m afraid I used too much magic too quickly. I just need to rest.”

“Rest, Magnus. I think we can manage without magic tonight. Why don’t you lie down? I’ll see if I can find some game and we’ll cook dinner tonight the human way.” Magnus didn’t appear to be moving anytime soon, so Alec reached down and scooped him up. The half-goblin let out a squeak of annoyance, but his eyes were already closing as he cuddled up to Alec’s chest. “The bed has seen better days, but I’m sure it’ll be more comfortable than falling asleep at the table.” Alec explained softly as he deposited Magus on the old bed. “Rest. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Magnus mumbled incoherently and rolled onto his side, already losing himself to the realm of sleep. Alec watched him for a moment, wishing that there was more he could do to help Magnus recover his magic. The half-goblin opened one eye and wearily rummaged around in his pocket. “Here,” he muttered, holding out a handful of the purple ribbons. “Just… put these up. It’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing.”

Alec took the offered ribbons and placed them in his own pocket. When he turned his attention back to Magnus, the half-goblin had already fallen asleep. Alec bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Magnus’ forehead before he realized what he was doing. “Sleep, Magnus. Let me take care of us tonight.”

He grabbed his bow from where he’d placed it by the front door and disappeared into the night.

Two hours later, he’d managed to hang Magnus’ ribbons around the edge of the property and had managed to catch three rabbits for their dinner. Magnus had woken from his nap at some point, though he hadn’t moved from the bed. He had pushed himself into the corner and had his knees against his chest and his arms wrapped around them. “You came back,” He whispered in shock as he bolted from the bed and pulled Alec into a tight hug.

“Of course I came back; I told you that I would. I just needed to catch our dinner first.” He replied, confusion written in every line of his face. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t come back?”

Magnus tensed at the question, burying his face in Alec’s chest. “Most people would,” he replied softly, his voice muffled. “I’m only as good as my magic. Right now I’m no good to anyone like this. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.”

“Magnus, look at me,” Alec said, pulling away just enough so that he could tilt Magnus’ face up towards him. Wide golden eyes stared back at him and Alec noticed that the half-goblin’s face was red and puffy. He’d cried while Alec had been gone, truly terrified that Alec would leave him in his weakened state. “I will never leave you, alright? We’re in this together...and even after we find a cure for this thing, I intend to stay. I love you, Magnus Bane.”

Magnus blinked, trying to process Alec’s words. “I...love you too, Alexander.”

Alec smiled and pulled Magnus into a passionate kiss. When they parted, Alec forced his attention elsewhere, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d lose himself in Magnus once more. “Not that I wouldn’t like to continue, but I’m starving. We should eat before it gets too late, and you should probably rest some more afterwards. I’ll keep watch tonight.”

“If you want to get them skinned and gutted, I’ll get a fire started,” Magnus replied, pulling on the jacket that Alec had draped over the chair when he’d first entered. “I do know how to start a fire without magic, Alec.” He replied, noticing the baffled expression on Alec’s face. “I’m not entirely useless without my magic — you don’t get to be as old as I am without learning a thing or two. I’ll go collect some firewood.”

Once they’d eaten and cleaned up, Alec steered Magnus back towards the bed. “Come on, we’ve got an early start and you still need to rest. I’ll keep watch tonight,” he stated gently, guiding the half-goblin back into a sleeping position. Magnus’ eyes were already half-closed as his head hit the pillow. Alec smiled and stepped back, intending to spend the night at the kitchen table repairing his arrows.

“Alec?” Magnus muttered even though his eyes remained close. “Stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Magnus. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“No,” The half-goblin whispered, opening his eyes just enough to glance up at Alec. “I mean stay here next to me?”

Alec found himself moving before he even had a chance to think it through. The bed creaked and dipped under him as he climbed in next to Magnus. He leaned against the headboard as the half-goblin cuddled close, a relieved smile on his face. “Sleep, Magnus. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[danetobelieve]

All In How You Look At It || Orion, Tiaret and Winston

Things had really taken a twist, Winston wasn’t completely sure when everything had become a part of a horror movie, but everything was very dark right now. Not literally. They’d already done that. But in other ways for sure. They hadn’t been able to get Darwin on the phone, on the internet, and so they’d taken Rio, taken the ridiculous amount of research that they had done and put it in their back and then shot out to Darwin’s place. Pulling up outside of their house, Winston stepped out of the car and scratched the bandage that covered their eyelid and closed the door. “Hey, you got everything?” Winston asked with a frown, “I can take a look round the back but it might just be worth … you know literally knocking on the door.” 

The eye, the demons, the visions had consumed his days. Orion could barely sleep and hadn’t really wanted to. All he wanted was to read and research and figure out what was going on. He had been surviving on energy drinks and snack cakes and whatever few hours of sleep he got through power naps. Just knowing that the eye was still on their hands and that it could come back to Orion at any moment was enough to give him insomnia. When they got to Darwin’s, Rio crawled from the passenger seat, slinging the book bag over his shoulder that held all of his books and notes. The thing must have been half the weight of Rio himself and hung along his back, forcing Rio’s posture straighter as he walked. Darwin had told him that he could grab some more texts on demons and that was exactly what Rio planned on doing. “Knocking is fine.” Rio agreed with Winston, heading up to the front door and hitting his knuckles against it a few times. “Someone’s inside.” Rio mentioned absent-mindedly, his heightened hearing picking up on footsteps within the home. “Just can’t tell if it’s Darwin or not.”

Tia had spent the better part of her day sleeping. Darwin's apartment was hardly a palace, but it was warm, and clean, and for the moment that was all she needed. Her eyes peeled open at the sound of someone speaking below her window. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in her bed and groaned at the tightness in her muscles. Were humans ever not in pain? Ignoring it for the moment, she rose to her feet and crossed to the window, peering down at the two people who had interrupted her beauty sleep. She tilted her head and observed them as they knocked on the door of Darwin's shop and waited for him to answer. She wondered, for a moment, if she should stay silent and let them leave on their own accord. No, you have a deal. She rolled her eyes and left the window and took the short trip to the store, taking her sweet time as she strolled to the door. Opening it, she smiled at her new guests. "Has anyone ever told you how rude it is to disturb a lady's beauty sleep?" Tiaret greeted, leaning against the frame of the door. "Darwin isn't here at the moment, I'm afraid. You'll have to visit him some other time. Preferably when I'm awake."

The woman who answered the door was very clearly not Darwin. She really didn’t look to be that much older than Orion or Winston. But she certainly carried herself as if she was much more mature or regal. “Oh uh- Sorry.” Rio answered, scratching at his neck nervously, “I wasn’t aware that anybody lived here with Darwin.” He didn’t know what to do here. Clearly, the woman had no intention of letting them in. If her figure blocking the doorframe hadn’t been evidence enough, her next sentence instructing them to come back later cemented that. But Rio and Winston really needed those books. Rio felt like they could figure this out. Stop whatever was going on. He felt like they were getting so close. Like the picture of a puzzle finally coming together. All they needed were a few more pieces. Just a couple more clues and suddenly everything would click. “Uh actually-” Rio began, surprising himself that he hadn’t just shied away and crept back towards the car in defeat, “Darwin told me I could come by anytime. He has a few books that I am supposed to grab.” Rio tried explaining that to her, hoping she would accept it and leave them be. “I can pull it up on my phone if you need any proof. My name’s Orion. Or Rio. This is my friend Winston. Darwin has been helping us with some research.”

"Don't worry your head, it's a recent development." Tia was a selfish being. It wasn't a fact she disparaged against herself, she thought selfishness to be necessary for survival. When she had made her deal with Darwin to assist him and his friends in their dilemma, it was strictly because he was giving her a place to stay. "So you're Darwin's little friends," The ex-demoness smiled, looking up and down at the two. Darwin hadn't told her their names, only that they were looking for answers to put down… well, something ancient and powerful. That just happened to be her expertise. "The ones who need the help of… darker forces." She stepped out of the doorway and nudged for them to enter. "By all means, come right in. I've been expecting you."

Honestly, Winston’s first reaction was whether this was Darwin’s girlfriend, but considering that they were 100% sure that Darwin was gay, they decided that probably wasn’t the case. Honestly, Winston wasn’t sure if they had the energy for this. Once they’d grabbed the books there were still a million other pressing and urgent things to do. Their personal life had become such a mess. “Nice to meet you, sorry that we woke you, but Darwin did say we could grab this stuff and we need it,” after all this was as much for Darwin’s benefit as it was for Winston’s they knew that Darwin was enjoying this less then they were to say the least. Not to mention the blinking eye hanging above them, the eyes that were everywhere and the terrifying cultists that they were also now dealing with. “Rio do you know which books we needed?” Winston honestly wasn’t doing the best with the research at the moment, all the deaths and now everything with the eye had left with them with less time then they’d have liked to look into these things. Fortunately Rio had picked up the slack. 

She was expecting them? That wasn’t creepy at all. Orion tried for a smile, hoping that the scepticism and apprehension didn’t leak into his facial expression. Whether or not he trusted her or not, Darwin apparently did. Or at least he did enough to ask her to help them with their research. Did they need the help of darker forces? Rio supposed the time for desperation had long since passed, but he couldn’t help but wonder if there were still other ways. “Uh- Yeah. Generally, I mean. There’s a group of books that he told me about. I know what I’m looking for.” He shrugged. He was convinced that a quick scan of the books would help at least. If he could just match up some of the demonic language he had with one of the books, then that would be a start. “So uh-” Rio realized after stepping into the entryway that she had shared her name with them yet. “You mentioned that you can help us? How exactly is that? You do ritual magic stuff like Darwin does?” He questioned. The blood ritual had given Rio more questions than answers, but it at least proved that there was something more sinister behind a cult and a squid. “Honestly, Winston and I will take whatever help we can get right now.” He wasted no time finding the books that Darwin had packed for him, scrounging through them and rushing through the pages as he waited for the woman’s response.

Tia watched them wander Darwin's store from her place near the door, making sure to lock the useless piece of glass and wood behind them. "By all means, your welcome to whatever you like." She said dully, walking until she came to sit at a nearby armchair. It dwarfed her small, human body, she realized as she got comfortable. That was the worst part of humanity, she believed, how stagnant they remained for years and years. Had she wanted, she would have appeared strong, terrifying. Instead she was left to give off the appearance of vulnerability, and that meant she was forced to compensate. If she could not be a demoness, she could certainly act like one. "Something like that," She lied, checking her nails as she spoke. "I'm an expert in demon languages, demon spellwork, etcetera, etcetera…" Tia forgot how much she enjoyed lying to mortals. Even if it was small, it reminded her of her life before it was destroyed. "You might say I'm a voyeur of sorts."

Winston didn’t miss the door locking behind them. “Thanks, I appreciate the help, we’re trying to fix whatever the hell is wrong with the sun and the only way to do that is to find out what we actually need to do.” The ocean had turned to ink, the sky was home to a giant blinking eye instead of the sun and there were cultists and literal eyeballs everywhere. “Wait?” Winston turned and looked at her interested suddenly, “If you’re an expert on demons and demon spell work and all that fun shit then you could probably help us,” Winston looked around and glanced at the bandage on their hand that was covering the eyelid on their palm. “The whole eye in the sky shit, I’m - I mean - we are pretty sure that it is because this cult is trying to summon a demon army or something into the real world and we might all die because of it at any moment. The cultists that are even more active then before are kind of proof of that and do you think maybe you could look at some stuff and see if it I don’t know - means anything to you?” 

Orion lost the conversation pretty quickly after getting consumed by the books. He wasn’t being as thorough as he would have liked to be, but time was running out for him to be picking the texts apart word by word. Maybe after all this was ever, he could. Instead, he grabbed out any books that he thought may be old enough to help them, quite literally judging the books by their covers. He flipped through them, skipping paragraphs and then pages and then simply flipping through entire sections, looking for anything that stood out. “Did you say expert on demon languages?” Rio fell back into the conversation at the sound of that. It was funny how quickly his feelings for the woman changed when he realized that she was an expert in something Rio was passionate about. “Woah.” He definitely had questions for her. An entire notebook of notes to ask her about. “Right here!” Rio yelled out finally, pointing at a page and jumping up, “This word. It’s the same one from the knife. Water. Just like what the cultists were saying.” Rio brought the book over closer to the two and held it out, “All we have going for us right now are fragments of a story or spell or something. Water. A beacon. Joining bodies.” He sighed. They needed to find the thread that tied them all together. “Please.” 

Tia blinked at them in surprise, shrinking back into the chair unconsciously for a moment. Usually she reveled in attention, but for some reason, a bout twisted in her stomach that she couldn't describe. Wordlessly, she took the book that the man- Rio she thought his name was- handed to her as he yelled about water and bodies and whatever else the humans had gotten themselves tangled in. When she arrived in town to find all the oddities, she had almost thought it hilarious, at first. Surely it was the work of a demon with a sense of humor. But they were right in their assertion, there was something malevolent about it all. Scouring the page, she read her native language with ease. Oh poor dears, they had been way off. "Not water and bodies- the joining of bodies of water." She said turning the book around to point it out to them. "A lake and the sea, more specifically." The longer she read, the deeper the crease between her brows became. Her gaze shot up to them, curious and what the humans may have called worry. "Where did you learn of this? This is… very ancient and dangerous magics. More ancient than I am, in fact."

“We’ve both kind of been working on this for a long time, there have been weird things going in town since the new year and we’ve been doing as much research as we can,” Winston replied hesitantly, they weren’t sure if they should just be telling everyone they met about this. But if there was someone that could help then they would need their help. There had been so much, so many deaths, so much loss, so much horror and so much terror that Winston was beyond enthusiastic about fixing this. “Wait, wait, you said combining the lake and the sea, that sounds a lot like something else that I’ve found,” Winston looked at the bandage on their hand again. They had been researching for months now and finally this was something that they thought was useful. “Do you happen to know if Darwin has a copy of a Theory of Demonology?” Winston asked curiously, “I’ve been looking for it everywhere, it is referenced everywhere but it seems rare.” 

What had she meant... more ancient than herself?  Orion knew what it implied and it had certainly piqued his curiosity, but he needed to stay focused. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to circle back around to that later. She made him uncomfortable, but maybe it was just because the two didn’t know each other. Maybe Rio could make friends, or allies. “Holy crap.” Rio proclaimed. The woman had fit the pieces together. “The lake and the ocean. I bet it has something to do with the beach, where the chest originally washed up.” But why now? What had started this? And what were the cultists planning to do at the lake and the ocean? What did joining the bodies of water mean? Most importantly, how did they stop it?There were still so many questions. “He has to have a copy right? This weird creepy stuff is like Darwin’s thing. Do you know anything about it?” He directed at the woman.

Tiaret watched the two babble to each other about their discoveries, her fingers dancing over the book. She itched to turn the page and find what else might have been hidden in methe thick, obviously extensive text. Perhaps there was something about curses powerful enough to mortalize a demon and how to break them. That was the point of them, wasn't it? All curses had a loophole to extort, even her own, she was sure. "Yes, beaches are crossroads, are they not? Between one world and another. It would make sense for a ritual to draw power from binding two bodies of water." Tia frowned at the them. "Do I look like Darwin's personal librarian? Look at this place, the book could be anywhere." But, of course, she didn't mention that she has spent a good amount of time snooping through Darwin's things. She turned her gaze back to the book in her lap, finding that reading the demonic language was somewhat comforting. Tiaret sighed and raised a black tipped finger to a bookshelf behind the counter. "He had a few books that sounded interesting over there, though I didn't look at them all." 

Winston had stopped listening to Tia and Rio at that point. They were hastily looking through the stack of books and looking for anything that might give them more information. They had to find more information on the joining of these bodies of water. “This all does seem to revolve around the lake and the ocean, it all has been somewhat nautically themed in terms of all of the weird things that have been happening so I guess that would make sense.” Pausing for a moment, Winston bit their finger nail and spotted the title that they were looking for. What a rare stroke of luck. “It doesn’t matter if you’re his personal librarian or not, but I think I’ve found it,” Winston pulled down a large tome and placed it gently on a desk. Flipping it open, they began to do their best to struggle through the demon language that they were well aware that they did not fluently speak. “I think that this should have instructions on a very similar ritual, there was an account of it, something that they did in Eastern Europe in the 12th century,” but unfortunately they only knew that because of a note in a Scribes journal referencing it, they had yet to be fortunate enough to actually discover the book. 

Orion’s mind was running a mile a minute. He stood, arms crossed and staring at the ceiling. He had his eyes clamped shut and he tried to think. To pull any information from his mind that may be relevant. That may help make sense of it all. The chest at the beach. The cult at the lake. The eyes. So many eyes. The eyes were the big thing here. The eye in the sun, the lake, washing up on the beach. And of course the creepiest ones of all, the eyes within Winston, Darwin and Rio’s hand that gave them visions of other eye shaped creatures. It made Rio shudder, goosebumps snaking across his skin. He rubbed his hands up his arms over the sleeves of his hoodie to try to get the goosebumps to go away, but it wouldn’t stop his skin from crawling. He glanced over at Winston, they were pulling a large tome free and flipping through it. “There was something about a beacon too. My best guess was some kind of lighthouse. Considering the connection with water.” He ran his hands over the closed scar where the eye had been last week. Would the woman know anything about the eye if he had it right now? Could she do anything to shed some more light on it? “I’m sorry. We didn’t want to disrupt your sleep, but we need answers. I really appreciate your help with this. Can you uh- Take a look at that book maybe? See if you can help Winston find what they’re looking for?”

“Eastern European magic? How fun.” Tiaret said in a dull tone, checking her black-clawed nails with deliberate interest. How worried they both seemed. For as long as she could remember, humans had always been selfish little creatures. Coming to her with their wishes and whims and expecting to give nothing in return. Could they truly blame her for having twisted their desires? When they were so adamant on obtaining them by any means necessary? But the two standing before her didn’t seem like those other humans. Neither did Darwin, now that she thought of it. Their concern didn’t seem mired within themselves. If they were unhappy with White Crest, they could simply leave, instead they were making the decision to stay and fight… whatever it is that plagued the odd town. She eyed them, an eyebrow raised and a curious glint in her dark eyes. “Well, since you asked so politely,” She took the book into her hands and set it across her lap, scanning over it idly. “Yes, it speaks of a ritual. Ancient, of course, but very powerful and very complicated.” A chuckle slipped past her lips. “I think there’s mention of a sacrifice. How lovely, sacrificial magic was always a favorite of mine.” She raised her gaze to look at the both of them. “There’s power in blood, did you know that?” Her eyes floated back to the book, her nail tapping against the spine rhythmically. “There are more instructions needed. An order to things. If that order is not followed, then…,” She frowned. “What is that term you humans use? Oh, right, how could I forget? You’re fucked.”

Pursing their lips, Winston gazed at Tuareg intently as she began explain what she had read. Winston’s demonic languages obviously needed some work because they were pretty sure they had red the symbol for blood as crimson milk which whilst sensical was inaccurate. “So there is a ritual involving blood, which of course makes sense because blood was what started all of this at least to some extent, blood is clearly a powerful tool that can be used to generate more power.” Winston wondered if they could combine it with their current project but they didn’t exactly have the time to be considering these sorts of trivialities. It was clear however that the order to things was not in the passage that she had just read from and Winston was convinced that they would need to do more research here. “Okay, the overall ritual itself requires two rituals to take place, the joining of bodies makes it pretty clear that one will have to happen at the lake and one by the ocean and then at least symbolically they will be joining the bodies, but that’s not anything on the actual ritual.” Winston was sure that they were going to hate this. “Rio, dude, I think we need to use the eye again to work this out. We don’t have enough information on the ritual and I can cast the spell Darwin did, he explained the theory enough, but it means taking another vision. Can you handle it?”

If Orion had any doubts before, the woman had now made it incredibly clear that she was not human. But what did that mean exactly? A vampire maybe? Some type of Fae? He knew stories about other, more ancient supernatural species though Rio didn’t know a lot about them. Sometimes he wished there was some spell to make him absorb all the information at the Scribe headquarters at once. At least then he wouldn’t feel so clueless all the time. “We are way too familiar with blood rituals.” Rio sighed, weighing whether or not he should ask her about her comments. About how she knew all of this information. But now didn’t seem like the right time. “Thank you- Uh, for your help. We need to figure out exactly how to do the ritual or we’re… what she said. Screwed.” Rio knew what was coming next. He hated it. He definitely didn’t think it was a good idea considering the last time. And yet it was Winston asking. And Rio couldn’t say no to them. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t complain about it. “I knew you were going to suggest that.” Rio groaned, crossing his arms as if to feign pouting over it. “Fine. Just know I detest this.” As if there were ever any doubts that Rio wouldn’t do it for Winston. “Do you want to help? You know a lot about this stuff, clearly. You would know what to look for. Or pick up things that we may miss.” He asked the woman, uncertain if she would want to involve herself in the blood ritual of two humans that were practically children still. 

“You say it with such disdain. Blood magic is still magic, no?” In her long life, she had witnessed and participated in a myriad of rituals of all kinds. If there was one conclusion to be drawn, it was that humans were willing to go to barbaric and incredible lengths to attain whatever they needed. Often, those who came before her had walked a path of hell and high water to kneel and beg for her help. She thought on that for a moment, seeing flashes of people on their knees in front of her, begging for… Why did that make her heart clench? Her hand splayed over her chest where her heart lay, a small frown marring her features. Tiaret’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she listened to their conversation. What on Earth were they talking about? “...Am I going to regret this?” She asked as she rose from her seat and crossed over to them. “I will warn you, I have a vicious temper for people who attempt to harm me. So if even one of my immaculate blonde hairs are out of place, there will be hell to pay.” She smiled twisting her hands in front of her, palm up, as if to offer them to her. “I’d love to help. Do go on, whatever it is you both are trying to do.”

Shaking their head gently, Winston sighed. “It’s not disdain, we’ve just not exactly had the best experience with it, besides technically this is like fairly simple mental magic, we just use the blood as a spell component of sorts.” Winston didn’t really get the concept that there was magic that was forbidden. All magic was an exchange. Sometimes it took a lot. Necromancy for example, Winston had seen first hand how much that cost. It didn’t mean the magic was evil. Perhaps the motive. That was another matter though. “Well, I don’t think you’ll get any physical pain, but this is kind of disturbing, at least, we found it disturbing. Maybe it won’t be the same for you?” They didn’t wait for the answer, the eye had returned to their hand that morning and Winston hadn’t exactly relished it’s return. They had suffered a vision already and it was as bad as Winston had remembered it, leaving them shaking and sweating. Swallowing away their fear, Winston took a seat on the floor and held the eye out, taking Tia’s hand without pausing they quickly chanted the incantation and watched as the eyelid opened and the hazel eye gazed out of their palm up at them. It blinked once before Winston finished their spell. Immediately they were back there, in that place. Except, it was different this time. Rather then a horde of terrible monsters, Winston spotted something. They didn’t know how they knew, but a figure took the horizon and Winston knew that they were a Hunter, or a Slayer or a Warden. They didn’t know how they knew. They just knew. 

“We aren’t dangerous.” Orion assured her, offering a smile as evidence and holding his free hand out towards her, “We are just trying to help the people in this town. I swear.” Too similar to a promise, his sister would say. Orion hadn’t promised, but was a swear close enough if the woman with them had been Fae? Did it matter? Rio hadn’t been lying. He did want to help the people and he wasn’t dangerous. Even if it had been binding, it wasn’t a promise that Rio would break either way. Winston took control of the spell this time, taking Darwin’s place. Rio wasn’t concerned about Winston leading, he had full trust in them. The only fear he had was for their safety, as well as Rio and the woman helping. But soon it didn’t matter, because the spell was done and the visions were there. There was a lot of information to take in. Rio could see the ritual, the parts taking place, step by step. And although nobody spoke, the words hummed inside of Rio’s head, explaining any portions missed. A group of people together. A hunter. A shapeshifter.  A human. A demon. And someone to lead the spell. Rio cringed, feeling the pain as a shapeshifter was forced to harm the human, to spill their blood for this spell. All at the hands of a hunter. And then the demon’s blood was mixed in.  Rio felt outside of his body, an astral projection floating above the gruesome scene he was forced into watching. All he wanted was for it to stop. But he couldn’t let go. Couldn’t break the spell. They needed to see everything or else it couldn’t be stopped.

Well, she supposed that was noble. To a certain sort. Still, Tiaret didn’t trust humans and she probably never would. She had seen the absolute worst of them and all throughout history they had proven themselves unworthy of her time. But now, she was… reliant on them. And in exchange for that reliance, she would have to offer all that she knew. Had she had her magic, she would have reveled in such a deal. Cautiously, and with all the willpower she could summon, she touched her hand to his. The feeling that coursed through her was in fact, quite disturbing. The images flashed through her mind so fast that she could barely comprehend them. Her very human, very non-magical mind was almost overwhelmed by it. Her fingers clenched around their hands, her muscles clenching so tight she felt as if she couldn’t breathe for a moment. And then, all at once, it was over. She wretched her hands from them, quickly reaching up to wipe away the blood that trickled from her nose. As she did, she noted the uncontrollable shaking of her hands. Still, she wiped it away with the back of her sleeve and looked at them both, her eyes pricking with tears. “The hunter turns its prey into a beast and the beast harms an innocent.” She said in a slightly wavering tone, clenching her arms around herself to stop the shaking. “A master of demons must then take the innocent blood and mix it with that of a dark creature… And then that creature must die.” For some reason, that fact made her… sad. The sinking in her stomach was more powerful than she thought it would be. But she tried her hardest not to let it show on her face, keeping her expression neutral. “Drown. The demon must drown, I mean. Before that, an exorcist must summon the power of both rituals into it so that when it dies, the rest of whatever ridiculously powerful creature you’re trying to eliminate will die as well.” She frowned at them judgmentally. “Do you make it a habit of fighting things above your caliber? This ritual is meant to rid this world of a terribly powerful being.”

As the visions and the spell ended and Winston was once more wrenched back to reality a terror truly set into their bones at that ritual. This was something that they might be a little under equipped for, but fortunately they had friends that they would be able to get to help them. The entire vision seemed to be a ritual and they were clearly instructions about what they could do to fix everything that was going wrong and Winston needed to write them down, they quickly set about typing what Tiaret was saying into their phone, making a digital copy in case something happened. It was too important to lose now. They had their answer and they knew how they were going to make things better. “God, fuck fuck okay,” Winston took several deep breaths and pulled their glasses straight. Running a hand through their hair they tried their best to think. “I didn’t pick a fight with this thing, squirdward just HAD to come and play in White Crest. This is probably why so much terrible shit has been going on but no one ever listens to any of us when we say that something weird is going on.” Swallowing Winston pulled out their inhaler and took a quick puff of it, the ventolin soothing their harried breathing. “Obviously Rio and I aren’t going to do this on our own, by the sound so fit we’re going to have to have multiple rituals, so we’re going to need to get help. Which is fine. We can do that.” Slowly standing, Winston grabbed an energy drink from their bag and swallowed several gulps in an attempt to replace the energy they had lost with caffeine, which was always an empty replacement. “We need to go, but thank you for your help.”

[balvinia]

Across The Other - Chapter One

Being a stay at home mom and wife doesn't make for much adventure. But Chloe has a secret life across the Other, where magic and gods, including a certain Trickster, twist everything upside down.

Chloe stared at the clothes in front of her. There was an ugly pink sundress and a black sweater dress that she had pulled out. Where the sundress came from, she had no clue. The shade reminded her of vomit, like when her four year old had drank strawberry milk while suffering a fever. What had her husband been thinking? In any case, she was definitely putting that in a give-away box. On the other hand, the sweater dress looked cozy and warm. It probably wouldn't be the best idea to wear during the summer. She really didn't feel like going, anyway. Maybe she could say that she had no clothes to wear. It wouldn't be entirely untrue- her pants were all in need of a wash, which was why she was considering the dresses to begin with. Of course, she had already promised her daughter that they'd go to the party and you do not ever break a promise to a child if you can help it. Chloe should have known better than to even mention it to begin with, why had she said that they'll go?

"April, honey, do you want to play with paints this afternoon?" Maybe the child had already forgotten about the party, she thought.

The little girl burst through the door in a matter of seconds. Well, maybe more like a whole minute. It seemed instantaneous, at least. "After the party?"

Chloe sighed. "No, never mind sweetie. Is that what you're wearing?" She had just noticed that the girl had on snow boots, jeans, and a long sleeve shirt. "It's too hot for that."

"Yes!" The girl turned tail and ran through the apartment.

"Change your clothes or you're definitely not going, young lady!" the woman yelled before turning back to the dresses. "Fuck it, I'm wearing dirty jeans," she muttered.

It took another half hour before they got out the door and strapped into the car. Another ten minutes, and they were at the park. She got out of the car, then let the child run toward the group of kids. Chloe joined the parents. "Sorry we're late, April tried to come dressed for a snowstorm."

One of the other moms laughed as she responded, "I just love when they do that."

Everyone went through the party routine, ending with the kids back out on the playground. Chloe was bored by that point. Actually, she had been bored but she was more than ready to leave. She was pretty sure that one of the other moms had pointed out the chocolate stain on her pants to somebody and it was starting to get late, anyway. It would take an hour or so to get April to wind down enough for bed and it was already close to seven that evening. She thanked the parents of the birthday kid for inviting her daughter, then spent what felt like forever trying to get her kid to the car. Choe was glad to leave the party. She never did feel like she fit in with the other parents. It always made her uncomfortable to be around them.

That night found Chloe sprawled out on her bed with an oversized tee on in lieu of a nightie. She had just gotten off the phone with her husband. They had recently gone out of town to help his parents with some remodeling around their house, but things were taking longer than expected and he hadn't returned with her and April. She sighed.

"John still not back?" The male voice startled Chloe as she reached for her glass of wine. It fell to the ground and she shot a glare at the man standing in her doorway.

"No, he's not... And could you give a woman a bit of a warning next time?"

He gave a lopsided grin. "That takes out the fun. Also, you've got what I hope is cake frosting in your hair."

She groaned as she checked the ends of her auburn hair. "Yes, that's what it is. You want something to drink? I think I've got some of that cinnamon whiskey in the cabinet..."

"Sure thing."

The two made their way to the kitchen where Chloe poured a glass for her guest. "Sorry I haven't kept in touch lately," she said, "things have been hectic. I just got home this morning."

"That's alright," he said while studying her face.

She looked back at him from across the table, unsure as to what to say. It never seemed to get easier being around him. She wanted to take in the sight of him for the moment. His long, dark coppery brown hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. Last time he'd visited, his hair had been cropped shorter and reminded her of flames. He hadn't left in the best of moods then. His green eyes still held that spark that only he seemed to have. That seemed to be one of the few things that remained so constant about his appearance.

When Chloe realized that she had been staring, she averted her gaze down to the table. "I was actually hoping to talk to you soon," she stated quietly.

“That’s why I’m here,” he said before taking a drink. “To talk.”

She stared at him again for a moment. “Did you have anything specific in mind or should I just start blabbering at you now?”

He chuckled. “Blabber on.”

Chloe wasn’t actually sure what to say or where to start. ‘I’ve missed you and trying to talk to you when you’re off to gods-know-where is a pain in the ass. Can’t you just get a cell phone or something?’ didn’t seem like the best way to start off. She took a breath to clear her mind. “Why did you decide to show up while John was out of town, anyway?”

“I wanted to give you a chance to talk without worrying about him.”

She sighed. “You make things more complicated than they should be, you know.”

Before she could say anything else, he had his arms around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “That’s what I’m good for,” he grinned as he stepped back.

The woman shook her head in dismay. She had what felt like everything in the world on her mind at that moment. Chloe had been considering some things that her husband probably wouldn’t like very much. Before April had been born, she had done more than stay home and clean a child’s face. She quit her day job so that she could focus her time and energy on being a mom. She quit her evening adventures because John was afraid something might follow her home one day. To be fair, the worry had crossed her mind a few times, but she was pretty good about being careful. Those days had been when she’d first met the man currently standing in the room with her.

* * * * * * * * *

Five years ago, Chloe had found herself wandering an unfamiliar town. It was around dusk, one of the times of day that the veil between worlds was easier to cross. She’d taken to astral travel as a means of escape when she was in her teens. By this time, it had become more purposeful. The training she had underwent for several years, mostly apprenticing under more experienced spirit workers, gave her the necessary skills to assist others in multiple ways. That day, however, her trip that day in the Other was supposed to be just on the side of exploration. The young woman was taking in her surroundings. A light fog hung over the stone streets, lights from shop and restaurant windows illuminated it, giving it an eerie appearance. There were a few people walking about in the part of town she was in. She made sure to keep her distance. A sound down a nearby alley caught her attention. Her hand instinctively reached for the knife clipped to her belt. It didn’t look like much, but she knew she could always rely on it if something went wrong. Chloe wasn’t on a mission. Nobody had contacted her for help with anything and she hadn’t been out looking for trouble. Anybody would have known that alleys after dark usually mean trouble. Still, curiosity always got the better of her and so she edged closer to the source of the sound.

When she peeked her head around the corner, she could see the silhouette of a couple of people in a struggle. She paused, waiting to further assess the situation. There was a muffled sound like somebody trying to speak with their mouth covered, then a sharp sound of pain. One of the silhouettes backed up quickly. Chloe heard a harsh string of words in a language she didn’t recognize, but she could guess there were some profanities among those words. It didn’t take more than a few more moments to realize that the two were probably just drunks. She sighed and stepped back, turning around directly into somebody. With a gasp, Chloe stepped back with an immediate apology.

The man looking down at her had an unpleasant grin on his face. She straightened her back and turned slightly, hand reaching toward her knife once again. It was gone. The man held it up mockingly as he stepped toward her. Chloe realized that he must have snuck it when she bumped into him. An irritated “fuck” escaped her lips as she backed away. It was okay, she’d thought. She didn’t need her knife. It just made things a bit easier. Magic was always an option. She made her hands into fists and felt the air around her bubble. She released a ball of energy at him that was supposed to explode on contact. It dissipated when it hit the man. Chloe’s eyes grew wide as she realized just how much shit she’d stepped in. Wrong time and place indeed. The man was a lot larger than she was and she didn’t like the idea of hand-to-hand combat. Her flight response kicked in. As she twisted her body to turn around, she felt his large hands take hold of her shoulders and shove her around the corner into a wall. It felt like all of the air in her body left her. She kicked out at his knees and heard a crack upon impact. The man wavered long enough for her to duck under his arms and start running. Unfortunately, he must have been more pissed off than he was in pain because she heard his footsteps behind her. She only slightly registered that the drunks from the alley seemed to have both gone. They probably wouldn’t have been any help anyway.

Chloe released another ball of energy toward the man, this time aiming slightly to his right. It hit a cluster of garbage cans that went flying directly into his path. He fell over them. She smiled in relief. It may have been a bad situation, but maybe she’d have a better chance of getting away from the freak. She made a turn that led to the backside of a building and her hopes fell again.

As she tried to come up with a new plan, Chloe heard a door open. Light spilled out of the building as someone else stepped out. This one was tall, but had a thin build. The light made his short hair look like it was on fire. She looked in the direction of her attacker who had stopped just in the shadows. He must have wanted to be sure they were still going to be alone. Keeping her eyes on him and hoping that she wasn’t making another mistake, she moved closer to the door. The smell of alcohol and smoke wafted from that direction. It must have been a bar. “Hey, umm… Mister?” Chloe kept her voice low as she tried to get the new stranger’s attention. “Anyway can I get inside there?” It was surely safer than being stuck between a wall and the big guy.

The flame-haired man looked at her with a shrug. He stumbled as he tried to pull the door back open. “M’nope,” he said. “S’locked.”

Chloe groaned. “Great, thanks anyway…” It probably wasn’t his fault. She thought that she saw him staring in the direction of the shadows and glanced back in that direction.

He spoke again, this time sounding sober. “That guy causing you problems?”

She looked in surprise at him. “Uh… yeah.”

The flame-haired man nodded and walked away from the door. “Hey, you!” His face lit up in a playful grin. “You like scaring pretty young maidens?” He paused to give her a wink and continued walking toward the other man.

The big guy stepped out. He obviously knew that he’d been caught, but his posture revealed that he didn’t think it was such a big deal. “Maybe I do. What’s a twig like you going to do about it?”

The man from the bar had his hands around the other man’s throat in an instant. Chloe took the chance and ran back the way she’d come. She spotted her knife still lying on the ground where the big guy must have dropped it. She picked it up and groaned as she realized that she should probably check on her perceived savior. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to somebody who was trying to help her. And, if it turned out that he wasn’t really such a great guy after all, she at least had her weapon that time.

By the time she’d returned, the big guy was tied to a pole and the other one was lighting up a cigarette. Chloe raised a brow and cautiously stepped toward them. “Looks like you had it all under control… I appreciate that.” She glared at her previous attacker for a long moment.

“Yup. Why’d you come back?” The flame-haired man looked curiously at her.

She shrugged. “I just thought… Well, I was afraid as big as he is and as skinny as you are.” The woman shook her head. “No offense… You did seem drunk at first and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Of course I’m okay!” He strolled over toward her before she could process him moving. “You really shouldn’t have come back. This is a dangerous part of town.” His voice had turned hard.

Startled, Chloe jumped back and flicked her knife in the air beside her. It’s form shifted into a sword and she pointed it at him. He held his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just saying… You really shouldn’t be here.”

She let out a breath, still holding the sword in front of herself. “Okay. I’ll leave.”

“I can walk you to a safer place if you’d like.” Chloe could have sworn that he had a look of concern on his face. She relaxed.

“What do I call you?” she asked softly. It wasn’t always considered polite to ask what somebody’s name was. Giving your name could be thought of as a way of giving somebody power over you. Despite that, she wanted to have something to call him by if she was going to accept his offer.

His voice had lit up in a grin again. “I’m Loki.”

[truth-from-lies-in-fiction]

A Completely Rotten Christmas to the Core

Merry Christmas to @bunny-lou from your Secret Santa. I know you're a Jaylos lover, so I thought I'd try my hand at writing your boys. I hope you don't mind that I also included some Malvie, which is for all intents and purposes my lifeblood. I hope you enjoy, and that you've had a wonderful Christmas.

Her cheek swollen from Mother’s slap, Evie curls up in a corner of the of the Rotten Four’s clubhouse, flipping through the pages of a children’s Christmas story. The pages are torn and tattered, but something about them eases the pressure in Evie’s heart. Each of them is painted with images of Christmas: Trees as big as a room, glittering with multi-colored lights; children sneaking downstairs at first dawn to open piles of wrapped presents; snow fluttering from the sky, swirling into a world fresh with white.

She presses her fingertip to her eyelash, still wet with tears, and gazes at the Isle world outside. A world where it is never white, where fresh snow never falls. A world where Christmas does not exist for the daughters of Evil Queens.

A world where mothers force their daughters into too-short skirts and shirts that plunge down down down. Where they force them to sit beside men-who-could-have-been-princes (but have become pirates), and whisper things like Kiss him, Evelyn…Touch him, Evelyn…Practice to become a princess, Evelyn… Did you really think it was all cleaning and cooking, Evelyn…

A world where pirate princes run their calloused fingers across the cheeks and along the lips of girls frozen to their chairs. Where those same pirates howl in pain when those same girls bite their fingertips. And where mothers smack daughters who do not behave.

A world where Christmas is disguised as cruelty, and misbehaving daughters tumble outside into the ice, tears stinging their eyes and pain stinging their hearts.

Evie sniffles, swallowing her tears. She pulls her shirt higher, as high as it can go (which isn’t saying much, with the plunging neckline), and flips another page in her tattered children’s book. She loses herself in a scene of a family standing together around a Christmas tree, with fresh snow peeking through the window in the background. And she wonders: Are her friends faring any better this Christmas than she did?

Seriously. This whole Christmas thing is cracked. Mal huffs and falls back against the outer wall of a tin roof house, as Mother cackles and knocks on the door.

“Mother?” Mal calls, crossing her arms. “Why are you bothering to knock when –”

The door opens. A little girl stands in the doorway, clutching the arm of a beaten-up teddy bear.

Great. “Run,” Mal singsongs to the child. “And hide your teddy bear.”

But the girl is too captivated by Mother’s glowing green eyes. She stares, transfixed, as Mother pounces, curling down upon her with claws outstretched. “Why, what a beautiful little girl you are,” Mother coos, tracing a claw beneath the child’s chin. “Are your mommy and daddy home?”

The child whimpers.

“Eldora?” calls a scratchy feminine voice from inside. “Who’s at the d– Oh.” A woman stumbles to a stop, her eyes flying wide, her final oh sharp and horrified.

Mother’s lips serpent into a smile. “Hello, dearie.” She remains coiled around the child, her claw at the girl’s throat. “Feel up to paying your tribute today?”

The woman grabs the child’s shoulder and jerks her backward. “It’s Christmas, Maleficent.”

“Why, yes.” Mother’s claws slip to the girl’s bear. She yanks it from her arms.

“Mother,” Mal says, her voice edged.

So edged, Mother turns and glares.

There may not be magic on the Isle. But Mother’s cold green glare cuts through Mal like cutlery.

“Is there something the matter, Mal?” Mother curls her claws around the bear’s throat, as though she is silently promising Mal the same fate.

Mal freezes in the vortex of Mother’s stare. Her hands begin to tremble. She shoves them into the pockets of her leather jacket. She will not let Mother see them shake. She opens her mouth to respond. To fight. To get Mother to leave these people alone. It’s Christmas. The little girl is no more than five. The mother’s face is grey as the ice coating the Isle streets. She takes a deep breath and wills fire into her eyes. Wills it until her eyes burn with the fire of the fae. Burn in challenge to Mother’s freezing glare.

But Mother taps into her own powers until her gaze smolders and intensifies. And then she begins to tear the head off the bear.

The child’s whimpers turn to cries.

Mal stares into Mother’s eyes and pinpricks of pain slice into her skin. Any words of battle are lost to the silence, as her throat closes down in fear. With a disgruntled cry, she snatches the bear from Mother’s claws and wraps it in her arms. “Fine,” she chokes out, breaking away from Mother’s smoldering stare. “But I’m not hanging around while you steal their Christmas presents.”

“Such a disappointment.” Mother taps her claw against her lips.

“Better than being an evil witch.”

Mal has had enough. The last thing she needs is a recitation of everything she’s done wrong. She marches past Mother and into the starless night.

Stalking through sludge turned grey, she clutches the arm of the tattered little bear.

Wearing a thief-sized grin, Jay slinks through the door of his father’s hut with a bag full of loot. In the last two hours, he’s managed to slither down six chimneys and steal several of the trinkets moms and dads had planned for Christmas stockings. Cups and horns and coins and porcelain dolls. Enough to make some serious bank.

“Jay, is that you?” His father calls.

“In here, Dad.” Jay slings his sack onto the floor, near where he sleeps. Who knows? Maybe all this loot will be enough to score him a bed for the night. After all, it is Christmas.

Jafar steps into the room, where his gaze travels to Jay’s sack. A shadow seems to flit over his features. “What did you bring me?” There’s a pirate’s-blade edge to his voice.

The same kinda edge he uses whenever Jay has failed to do something right.

Jay’s grin fades. “Check it out.” He rips open the sack, where all the trinkets are on display. “It’s –”

“Junk.” Jafar’s nostrils flare. “You’ve been gone for two hours, and you brought back junk.”

“But, Dad.” Jay falls to his knees and scoops out a silver cup and a porcelain doll. “This stuff’s legit. Real silver and porcelain.”

Jafar stomps two steps closer and stares down at Jay’s trinkets. “You incompetent fool. The doll is missing an eye and the cup is cracked.” He forms a fist and knocks the trinkets from Jay’s hand.

Jay winces. “It’s the Isle,” he says, dumping the trinkets back into his sack. “You know what trinkets are like around here.”

“What about the Christmas presents then? Why bring me trinkets when you could bring me real goods?”

Jay stares down at his hands, which are stained with chimney soot. Truth is, he almost did go for the gifts. But he couldn’t do it. Because… “It’s Christmas, Pop. Don’t you think the Isle deserves a little good cheer?” He dares to glance into his father’s face.

A face that ghosts white and then bleeds red. “Good cheer?” His father spits the words. “You’re a thief, boy. Learn to think like one.” He whips back his hand, bringing it down across Jay’s cheek.

Pain explodes across Jay’s face. “I thought I was,” he chokes, cradling his cheek.

“And for that,” Jafar says, lifting the sack of trinkets, which clinks together as he carries it to the door, “you’ll sleep outside with your stolen trinkets.”

He tosses the sack outside and waves his arm for Jay to join it. “Next year, bring me real goods and I might let you sleep on the sofa.”

A burning sensation stings Jay’s eyes. He whips his hand across them, unwilling to let Dad see. Instead, he marches out the door, a son-turned-thief.

He waits for the door to slam, and then he picks up the sack and hefts it over his shoulder. His cheek throbbing in the cold dark air, he begins the trek back to the first house he stole from.

Turns out, he’s only up to collecting junk this year. So he might as well take it back to where it came from. Because even Isle kids deserve a Christmas.

Carlos sneaks from his house, closing the door behind him. Inside Hell Hall, his mother curses and crashes through piles of fur. Fur Carlos was supposed to keep clean. Fur he soiled when he fell after four lashes of Mother’s whip.

One lash for failing to properly clean her fur.

One lash for failing to properly paint her nails.

One lash for failing to properly congratulate her on the strength of her lashes.

And a fourth lash “Because it’s Christmas, darling, and little boys should understand just how good they have it all the other days of the year.”

A fifth lash whooshed toward his back, but Carlos fell onto the coats he hadn’t cleaned and soiled them further with his blood.

“You worthless fool,” his mother cried, dropping her whip and cuddling her fur. “How dare you soil my poor little darlings?”

“I – I’m sorry.” Carlos backed toward the door. “I didn’t mean –”

“Didn’t mean to bleed on my precious coats?” His mother growled, snatching up her whip. “Come back here, Carlos.”

But for once, Carlos didn’t listen to Mother. For once, he turned and sprinted from Hell Hall, out into the freezing night.

He slams the door behind him, cringing at Mother’s curses and shrieks. The cold air bites into his skin, sinking into his wounds. His shirt is in tatters, his skin knitted together with blood and bits of leather flakes torn from Mother’s whip.

But he wraps his arms around his body, gritting his teeth when the movement stings. And he jogs far and fast from Mother’s Hell.

The streets are brighter tonight, even in the Isle shadow. Certain shops glint with Christmas lights, and a browning Christmas tree shimmers in Isle Square. Even the moon shines slightly through the clouds. Shines a few doors down, where a boy carries a sack up onto someone’s dilapidated porch.

Jay. Carlos’ chest constricts. Of course. Who else would show up when I look like crap?

The splintered moonlight slides along Jay’s muscles. Muscles that bulge as he lifts trinkets and places them onto the porch. And when Jay glances up from his sack of gifts, the moonlight caresses his eyes, softening them and turning them a velvet black.

Carlos ducks behind a bush. The last thing he needs is for Jay to see him looking like this.

Jay whistles. A moment later, his footsteps crack along the icy sidewalk. Closer and closer, they come.

Carlos slides back along the bush, ducking beneath the foliage.

But Jay, ever stealthy, catapults over the greenery, landing stooped in front of Carlos. “Trying to hide, my friend?” He greets Carlos with a grin that does wicked things to a boy’s heartbeat. “Or just playing peeping Carlos?”

Carlos forces out a laugh. And says the first words that pop onto his tongue. “Mother’s on a rampage.” He cringes. Dammit. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He swallows a breath, waiting for Jay to notice his wounds. Waiting for Jay to stare at him as though he is weak.

But Jay’s eyes do not dance, as they so often do when he’s getting ready to tease. And they do not darken with pity.

They remain a velvet black, deeper now, more understanding. “Did she hurt you again?” There’s a bitterness in his voice.

A bitterness that seeps into Carlos’ muscles like a balm, comforting and warm. “Oh, you know.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t so bad.” The words are stale and tasteless, like so many lies.

Jay stares at Carlos for another shattered heartbeat. And then he opens his sack and pulls out his jacket. “I’m actually pretty warm tonight.” He holds his jacket out to Carlos. “You wear it.”

“Are – are you sure?” Carlos touches the buttered leather.

Jay never lets anyone use his stuff. Carlos once tried to borrow a shirt after a brutal pirate fight, and Jay nearly took his fingers off with a sword.

“’Course I’m sure.” Jay shrugs and wraps the coat around Carlos’ shoulders. His fingers linger along Carlos’ throat, sliding along his skin. “Our parents are jerks, man,” he whispers. “We’ve gotta look out for each other.”

Carlos sucks back a breath at Jay’s touch. And his gaze lands on Jay’s bruised cheek. “You, too?”

“Yeah, well.” Jay drops his hand from Carlos’ throat. “I didn’t exactly get everything on Dad’s Christmas wish list.” He leaps to his feet, grabbing his empty sack.

A sack that a few minutes ago had held a bunch of trinkets.

Carlos slides to his feet and grabs Jay’s hand. “Hey. Did you – you didn’t return everything you stole, did you?” Could Jay have really had the strength to defy his father like that?

“Sure I did.” Jay shrugs. “It’s Christmas.”

“Jay.”

But Jay is no longer looking at Carlos. He’s dropping the sack into the bush, burying it beneath the greenery. “C’mon,” he says, kicking it into the dirt. “I have an idea.” With that, he laces their fingers together and pulls Carlos toward Isle Square.

Carlos waits, but Jay never lets go of his hand.

There’s a light gleaming at the top of the warehouse. Mal stops outside on the street and stares up at the yellowish glow. During her walk there, the teddy bear has somehow become cuddled within her arms, his half-severed head leaning against her chest. She strokes his matted fur and sighs.

She never walks away from Mother.

She never gives up on Mother’s schemes.

Her goal in life is to become Mal, Mistress of Evil. Mother’s frickin’ clone.

But something inside her broke tonight. Something shattered when Mother tore apart this teddy. When Mother tore into Mal’s gaze with her cold green glare.

The light in the warehouse seems warm. A tinge of yellow lighting up the dark Isle night. Beckoning Mal to a place Mother does not know. The home discovered just weeks ago by the Rotten Four.

Still cradling the teddy, she snatches a rock from the street and tosses it at the yellow sign that serves as their lock. The gate to the warehouse rises, and Mal stalks toward the stairs.

Whoever’s waiting in the warehouse, whoever turned on the light, has gotta be better than Maleficent.

Evie caresses the page of her book with a fingertip. The family painted on the page circles around their Christmas tree, their faces alight from the yellow glow of the lights. A fire crackles in the fireplace, casting a crimson gleam. Keeping the family warm from the fluttering white snow piled up outside their window.

Something inside Evie’s chest aches. She tries to picture herself and Mother standing around a Christmas tree, but the image flickers and fades. She cannot bring it to life.

She’s freezing in this warehouse. The clothes Mother forced her to wear are too low-cut. The shirt plunges so low, her chest is cold. A cold that seeps deeper inside each time she thinks of Mother.

She sighs and touches the page, prepared to flip, when someone stomps up the stairs.

Evie glances up from her book to discover Mal. Her purple hair is as wild as her eyes are green. She cradles a beaten-up teddy bear, stroking it as though it is a long-forgotten child.

Their eyes lock, and Mal’s face flares pink. “What are you doing here?” she asks. Her voice is rough – as rough as when Evie first came to Dragon Hall and Mal vowed to make her life miserable – but stitched within her words are threads of vulnerability.

Evie’s breath falters.

Something has changed. This girl, this wild Mal, is suddenly unguarded.

A smile springs to Evie’s lips. There you are. The words spring to her mind, and she realizes in that moment that she’s been waiting. Waiting months for Mal to take off her mask.

“Why are you staring?”

Evie shakes her head. “I’m not staring.” She tilts her head toward the space beside her on the Four’s overstuffed couch. “C’mere and I’ll read you a story.”

Mal hides behind a refuge of her purple hair, which has fallen into her eyes. “And just why would I want to hear a story?”

Because you look like a lost little girl. “Because it’s Christmas, M. And people listen to stories on Christmas.”

It’s the first time Evie’s used the nickname, even though it’s been dancing on the tip of her tongue for weeks.

Mal flips her hair from her face and catches Evie’s gaze. The green in her eyes darkens, intensifies, as though from just one nickname, she’s gained the power to glimpse Evie’s thundering heart. “Fine.” She shuffles across the room, bouncing onto the couch by Evie’s side. “Read me a story then.”

Evie tries, she really does. She even curls her fingers around the storybook.

But now that Mal is close, Evie finds herself lost in the green of Mal’s eyes. In the way Mal’s looking at her, just her, like she really sees her. Evie reaches out and touches Mal’s hand, which is as cold as the night outside. “What happened tonight?”

Mal cringes, hiding her gaze beneath a fall of her eyelids. “Mother.” The word is cut from the harshest of fabrics, and sewn together with stapled stitches.

Evie knows it well. The same stitches are holding together her own broken heart. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Mal’s eyes open, the green somehow even more intense. Words sketch themselves across her face. Her features soften. Her lips curl upward. And she allows her cradled bear to drop from its place against her chest and land upon her lap.

As the bear falls, Mal’s eyes fall, too, sliding over Evie’s clothes. She stiffens. “What are you wearing?”

Evie sighs. “My mother was up to her own games tonight. She tried to make me…” Her face flares with heat, the memory of the pirate prince slicing through her thoughts. “She gave me princess lessons.”

Mal’s hand forms into a fist beneath Evie’s palm. “Give me a name and I’ll make sure he never walks again,” she growls.

A fog horn pierces the night, and Evie bites back a laugh just as harsh. “Don’t bother. I bit him so hard, I think he’ll need stitches.”

Mal’s hand twitches. And when Evie glances up, she finds Mal’s mouth twitching, too. “That’s my girl,” Mal murmurs.

Evie’s breath catches. The words knit themselves within her mind, woven in so many shades of emerald. The color of Mal’s eyes, which widen when the words leave her lips.

Mal opens her mouth, maybe to reclaim the words.

Before Mal can speak, Evie presses her lips to Mal’s parted mouth. No way, M. I’m not gonna let you take it back.

Mal’s lips are cold, and when Evie kisses her, they freeze. Mal freezes, a fairy girl crafted from ice.

Evie slips back, just enough so that their lips are no longer touching but their breath still mingles. “Kiss me back,” she whispers, tracing her fingertips along Mal’s hand. “I dare you.” I dare you to let go. I dare you to unfreeze. I dare you to let me inside.

Mal stares into Evie’s eyes, lost in the vortex of her stare. And then her gaze slips to Evie’s lips. All at once, she melts. Her lips part in a groan, and she slides her fingers through Evie’s hair, pulling her forward. Crushing their lips together in a kiss.

Mal’s lips slide along Evie’s, and Evie’s world turns to warmth. She is no longer freezing in the clothes forced onto her by her frigid mother. Her skin prickles with heat. A heat so intense, it slips beneath her chest, warming the place left cold by her mother’s slap. She wraps Mal in her arms and holds her close, finding herself in the warmth.

Long after, when they have stopped the kiss to catch their breath, when Mal has leaned her head against Evie’s shoulder, when Evie has wrapped her arm around Mal’s back, when the bear curls into its own corner of the couch, Mal gazes down at the book still opened on Evie’s lap. “Is this the story you were going to read me?” she asks, thumbing the painting of the Christmas tree.

“Mmhmm.” Evie nuzzles the top of Mal’s head, breathing in her fiery scent. “Someday, I’d like a Christmas like this one.”

“Mmm.” Mal kisses Evie’s shoulder. “Someday.”

There’s a promise in that word as it leaves Mal’s lips. As if she isn’t just repeating what she’s heard. As if she’s rolling it along her tongue, tasting its angles and curls.

Before Evie can discover its meaning, though, there’s a clatter on the stairs. Two boys appear in the warehouse. Carlos, lost in the contours of Jay’s leather coat, and Jay himself, who carries a browning Christmas tree.

“Did someone say Christmas?” Jay asks, wearing a mischievous grin.

A bubble of laughter springs from Mal’s lips. “You stole that tree from Isle Square, you thief.”

“Yup.” Jay turns the tree upright, allowing it branches to fan out. Dangling from all but a few is an ornament, and stretched between the ornaments are strings of tiny lights.

Carlos touches the branches. “Jay and I have decided we’re gonna have a Christmas, right here in the clubhouse.”

“Like a family,” Evie breathes, sliding her fingers through Mal’s.

Mal leans her head against Evie’s shoulder. “Someday,” she whispers.

Evie’s heart glows.

Mal glances at Jay. “Set up the tree,” she says. “I’m gonna add some finishing touches.”

In the darkness of Christmas night, when the Isle streets below are coated in grey sludge and the sky fails to shine with the brightness of stars, the Rotten Four find in each other a family.

Jay guides Carlos to a corner and strips the boy of his jacket. Then, with touches careful and lingering, he applies a balm to the wounds along Carlos’ back. The concoction seeps warmth into Carlos’ muscles so that, when Jay is through, the sting is almost gone.

“I got you, man,” Jay murmurs, sliding Carlos back into his jacket.

Mal shrugs out of her own leather jacket and wraps it around Evie’s shoulders. “To keep you warm,” she says, placing a kiss on Evie’s cheek.

Jay coughs and rubs his mouth with a fist, hiding a smile.

A smile that vanishes when Mal glares, daring him to make another sound.

“Whatever,” Jay says, holding out his hands. But his smile returns, and he winks at Mal, who blushes.

Warm in Mal’s leather jacket, Evie skips away from the scene to find a needle and thread, and to collect the teddy bear. Cradling the bear in her arms, she sews his seams. And then she washes him with soap and water, until he is made new.

Setting the teddy bear beneath the tree, she calls the boys to the couch and opens up the Christmas story. Though the story is written for children, Carlos leans back into Jay’s arms and Jay nuzzles his chin against Carlos’ shoulder, and the two sit and listen to Evie read.

While Evie’s voice drifts through the room, Mal strides to the cupboards, where she uncovers cans of spray paint. The spritz of the paint mingles with the sounds of Evie’s story, filling the clubhouse with a kind of wild creativity.

Finally, when the moon dares to peek through clouds fat and grey, when the Christmas tree glimmers with lights plugged into the clubhouse walls, when the last notes of the story have been spoken and Evie has closed the book, Mal caps her spray paint and steps back from her work.

There, painted behind the tree, there is a window. And within the window, there is the fall of snow. On the opposite wall, there is a fireplace. A fireplace painted warm with crimson flame.

Mal gazes at Evie, her eyes alight. “Who says that someday can’t be now, E?”

Evie’s skin prickles with warmth at the light in Mal’s eyes and at the nickname that falls from Mal’s lips. She rises from the couch and grabs the bear. “No one at all,” she whispers, placing the creature in Mal’s arms.

Mal smiles down at the toy, smoothing her fingers along its seams. “You fixed her.”

“Fair trade.” Evie gathers Mal in her arms. “You fixed me.”

“You were never broken.” Mal murmurs the words against Evie’s heart.

“Neither were you,” Evie breathes the words into her hair. “You were always Mal.”

She gazes down at her girl, and touches their lips in a kiss. A kiss both gentle and soft, but filled with heat.

Jay clears his throat. “Yeah. If you two are gonna make out…”

Evie laughs against Mal’s lips. “We’ll continue this later then,” she murmurs. Stepping back, she turns to find the boys.

“Merry Christmas,” Carlos says with a grin.

“What he said.” Jay nods at the boy, grabbing his hand.

Evie raises her eyebrows at their touch. And at the way Mal slides her arm around Evie’s back, pulling her close.

Things have changed tonight. Changed in ways that are good.

They have found their Someday.

Together with her family, Evie gathers around the Christmas tree, gazing at its lights and savoring the warm glow deep within her heart.

[selfwriting-sugarquills]

Heat in the rain pt. 5: Halloween

(Weird chapter this one - George is really just in the thick of self-loathing now isn’t he? Don’t worry, though, the next chapter is hopefully gonna put him back on the right track - Hope you enjoy!!)

Description: Reader wants to make some Halloween decorations the muggle way, George isn’t thrilled about it but Fred, being the wingman that he is, gets his brother to go along with it.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1949

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

Things were quiet for a few weeks while you got comfortable with your new job. The flat’s three inhabitants had fallen into a set routine as the days passed by, you’d wake up first, shower, eat and get ready for work when you would be ready to leave the twins would wake up, get ready and head to work after you. After work you’d spend quiet nights after dinner, playing exploding snap with Fred and reading. George had been keeping mostly to himself, working late with paperwork and perfecting prototypes. You found it a bit strange, and a part of you was almost disappointed but then you couldn’t blame him for wanting some time alone, you figured it would be pretty annoying for the twins to be sharing a room again, even if they swore they were so used to it, they didn’t really mind. Friday as you were picking up groceries after work, you came past the Halloween decorations and candy, now: Halloween in the wizarding world was a big deal, especially in Diagon Alley, where it was tradition that the shops would stay open late, and hand out small samples along with candy to kids and parents trick or treating in the area, naturally, pretty much all of the shops followed this tradition as it was a great way of making business as well as celebrating Halloween. You picked up a couple bags of candy, actually, a few more than you probably needed but the twins had a habit of eating a lot of sweets, it was no wonder most of their products were edible.

***

At home, Fred was plotting how to get his brother and you together. Something a prankster learns very early in the game is that the planning is just as - if not more- important than the execution of the prank itself, and Fred prided himself on a number of plans that had all gone right in the past, however he also had made a few that had gone wrong, very wrong. Needless to say, Fred Weasley was not a quitter, and he wasn’t afraid to give a plan a few runs before succeeding and the major way to succeed was to do your research, which was why Fred was currently sitting in the workshop, reading a magazine mainly targeted at young women, opened on a page titled in pink letters, “How to get the passion back into your relationship” with a slightly disgusted look on his face, truly, the magazine was vile but it was an important asset to his plan. He’d never really had to spice up a relationship of his own, let alone someone else’s but alas this was George and Fred was getting seriously tired of his brother avoiding you because he felt he’d been turned down when in truth he hadn’t even spoken to you about his feelings.

“The first option is to rekindle the sexual chemistry between you and your partner,” Fred made a face like he’d taken a bite of an acid pop, “Think I’m  just gonna let them figure that part out themselves,” Fred mumbled to himself, hastily skipping to the next part,

“Focus on affectionate touches:

Physical contact is a major part of maintaining an interest in a relationship so make sure to make time for things like cuddling, holding hands and other tender touches to bring back a sense of caring in the relationship...”

Fred frowned a little, that might not be a bad idea, probably won’t be able to get them to spoon but a hug might be doable he thought to himself, scribbling a note on a piece of parchment,

“Find time to spend with your partner:

Doing a simple activity you both enjoy can greatly improve the feeling of love in a relationship, plus it’s a great way to practice flirting with each other, bringing back the excitement of courting each other that might have faded since the beginning of your relationship.”

Fred scribbled again, hoping it would still work if there had never been a relationship in the first place. He closed the magazine and hid it in a stack of post lying on the kitchen counter, then he headed upstairs, tucking the parchment into a pocket in his jeans.

As he headed upstairs he quickly glanced at his watch, it was ten to five, the shops had owled around to each other agreeing to re-open at 18:00, so he still had time to figure out how to get his brother and you to spend time together. Thinking about the few ways he could get two people to hug, he entered the flat, then stopped in the doorway, you and George were standing by the kitchen counter, bending over an array of black and orange paper, you were grinning at a smaller paper, which, Fred noticed as he approached the scene, had guides on how to make different Halloween decorations on it. Fred beamed victoriously, this plan was just writing itself at this point, sure it was hard getting you to hug George if you were busy cutting out shapes but the accidental hand touch was almost inevitable,

“Whatcha got there, Y/n?” Fred asked playfully, clasping a hand on both yours and George’s shoulders,

“It’s this thing I found while shopping,” you explained, “I figured it would be more fun to make the decorations the muggle way rather than using magic,”

“And I was just saying that we already have decorations,” George said, “Magical decorations that move and fly by themselves, what exactly does a paper pumpkin bring to the table?” Fred couldn’t help but snort, he knew George all too well, and this was a prime example of him trying to avoid something he dreaded, in fact, Fred had his brother’s methods down to a T:

1. Declare your negative feelings towards the thing you’re avoiding by belittling it, as to make sure no-one’s surprised when you bail.

2. Make a run for it and hope no-one forces you to participate.

Unfortunately, it seemed you also knew George well enough to see through it, as you didn’t bother playing along,

“We can always enchant them when we're done making them, then they’ll also fly.” You said, George crossed his arms, “I agree with Y/n,” Fred said, “Besides, it won’t hurt to spend a little time together.” He added not breaking eye-contact with George who shot him a “Don’t even go there” look.

“If you’re so keen on it, then you do it.” George replied, not breaking eye-contact either, Fred understood this as “I don’t want to be alone with Y/n so volunteer and then I can go literally anywhere else” A smile tugged at Fred’s lips, you wish he thought, “No can do, mate, I’m needed at the shop,”

“And I’m not?”

“Nope, Verity’s already asked if she could hand out samples,” When George opened his mouth to retort, Fred hastily added, “She’s got a costume and everything, says she’s been waiting all week to show it off, so I think she should get to do so, then I’ll help out and you two,” Fred strained not to add ‘lovebirds’, “can stay here and work on these absolutely splendid decorations!” He knew that his brother wasn’t going down without a fight, but Fred wasn’t gonna let an opportunity like this pass him by, even the most amateur planner knew to grab a good chance whenever they arose. The two twins stared at each other, Y/n glancing between them,

“By the time we’ll be finished the shop will be closed,” George tried, Fred’s mind was working at top speed trying to come up with a way to spin it, when he didn’t find anything right away he panicked slightly,

“We’ll hurry,” Said Y/n, Fred grinned,

“Yeah, make a competition out of it for all I care,” He said, flashing his brother his best “I’m winning” smile,

“C’mon, George don’t look like that, it’s only Halloween once a year, if we don’t make them now we’ll have to wait a whole year to make them,” Y/n said, giving the grumpier twin her best puppy-eyes, she’s good, Fred thought to himself, as you grabbed George’s hand and begged, “Please?” Fred thought he could see George’s inside melt, very good, indeed.

“Fine.”

***

It was mostly quiet in the flat. George tried his best to focus on the paper in front of him, tracing the outline of a cauldron.

“Thanks for agreeing to do this, I know you weren’t exactly thrilled at the idea,” You said, smiling at him. Normally, he would have jumped at the opportunity to spend time with you, the days where he got to sit alone with you were the best days he could remember, it still was the best.

“It’s alright,” George tried his best to seem unaffected by the way you smiled at him, “what are you making,”

“You,” You said, the smile turned into a mischievous grin, you pointed to the guide, your finger landing on the figure of a bat labelled “Grouchy the dungeon-bat” George grinned,

“I’m not grouchy!” He said, chucking a crumpled ball of paper after you, making you laugh,

“Yes, you are!” You said, “You barely talk to me anymore, and all you do is hide in the workshop,” your smile faded a little, George’s insides twisted uncomfortably,

“I’ve been busy,”

“Clearly,” You said, your lips forming a thin line, George wanted to reach out to you, take your hand, reassure you somehow, then he reminded himself that he couldn’t, he wasn’t yours to do so, he was your friend, nothing more.

“You know, if I’ve upset you, you can just say so,” You said then, your eyes piercing his own, “You haven’t, I-I just-” He stammered, why was it so hard to talk to all of a sudden?

“You just what?” George tried his best not to see the hurt on your face,

I just haven’t been able to tell you how I feel because I’m dead scared you don’t love me as much as I love you.

“I’ve just been busy,” George heard himself say, disappointed in himself he added, “I promise I’ll be around more,” even if it hurts like hell.

***

Why did it feel like George was hiding something? You stared down at the black paper in front of you, trying to blink away the tears that had lined your eyes.

“How’s work?” George asked, sounding like he meant to say something else, you looked up into his chocolate coloured eyes trying to find what he meant to ask but to no avail - when did he get such a good poker face anyways?

“It’s good - the coworkers are really nice,” You didn’t know, as you cut out the shape of a bat whilst talking, but George felt a pang in his stomach, remembering the man he’d seen you with, “and most of the time it’s pretty quiet, which is nice.”

George’s insides were burning now, as much as he tried not to, he couldn’t suppress the thought of you and the dark-haired man alone when there were no customers, how much did he make you laugh? Did you often touch his arm the way you’d touch him? George tried to swallow his jealousy, but the image of the man and you were burned into his mind.

“That’s good,” He forced the words out without a trace of resentment, it wasn’t your fault if he felt this way, you had all the right in the world to be happy with someone else, Merlin knew that all George wanted was for you to be happy, “It’s good that you’re happy,” He added, mostly to himself.

___

Taglist: @lilcutekittykat​ @proflongbttm​

___

ALSO, READER BE LIKE:

[doubleshotofsomething]

Publicity Stunt

Publicity Stunt | Part Six

Warnings: heh...a lot of swearing. like a lot of swearing. and violence, but like, not too much violence?? Pairings: Bucky x Reader .  Summary: Things get a little too heated for the reader’s liking. Reader is a PR/Fixer and longtime friend of Pepper Potts

PS: Im so very sorry for the inconsistency. I hope you guys are safe and that those you care for are safe xx please take care of yourselves xxx ALso, sorry for the typos, this hasnt been proofread yet but it will be fixed .

--

You were gone when Bucky woke up.

The smell of you lingered in the air, but you were nowhere in sight. He thought he had dreamed the night before, that his imagination was playing sordid tricks on him. But it was still warm where you had laid next to him, still smelled like you, and that eased his confused heart for a moment.

His room bore the memory of you from last night, a night he wished he could extend – the man would travel the world, chasing the sunset if it meant giving you the longest night of your life. The blanket that he usually tossed to the floor in his sleep was now covering his lower body, the empty bottles that occupied his nightstand were missing, his clothes were folded neatly on the couch that you’d gotten him – because ‘It goes with the setting, Barnes’ – and a suit was hung over the armrests of it.

He groaned, burying his face into the pillow. It didn’t smell like you, he’d somehow managed to get you to use him as a pillow instead. Just as you’d managed to convince him to wear the suit for tonight’s event.

He would wear the ridiculous suit for you, he hated that damned thing, but he would because you had asked. You were as good as a siren, or as bad, when you flashed those eyes at him, dragging him into the depths of your affection as you asked. Knowing he’d regret saying yes in the morning and hating how he could never say no to you, he gave in, and he was glad he did – the look on your face was worth all the yes’s he could give. Not even Sam’s remarks could make him change his mind

“It’s not the end of the world, Buck,” he murmurs into the pillow, before getting out of the bed. “One night is a huge step.”

He was in the shower when a scream pierced through the walls, echoing in his ears. It was faint and far enough for him to know it was coming from the kitchen, and the pit that formed in his stomach spiked enough dread for him to know it was you.

“What the fuck?!” You were hysterical, throwing anything you could get your hands on at the floating thing. “What the actual fuck!?”

It was red and came out of literal air, alone and didn’t have the glow that came with Wanda’s powers.

You were frazzled and stressed and trying to figure out a way to tell Pepper about your plan for Tony’s memorial. It was more of a gala than an actual memorial, he was a man of the people after all and an event celebrating his memory was simply mandatory – if you didn’t do it, someone else would. Probably Secretary Ross, the opportunistic twat.

The event was to take place at the museum you had created in his honour, Tony was more than just a billionaire and more than an Avenger, he was—is a beacon of hope, a monument if you will. A simple wing or section in some museum wasn’t enough; he was an Era of the Impossible, of Excellence, of Miracles. He was the ultimate Ultron, the Shield he believed Earth needed, and you were going to make sure he was remembered as such.

You had barely managed to escape Bucky’s death grip without waking him up, one wrong move during your escape from his room could and would land you back in his clutches, leaving you absolutely no time to finish the last-minute details for tonight. You couldn’t risk going to your room, the door and movement would wake Bucky (his room was right next to yours), so you remained in his shirt and your leggings as you had tiptoed your way into the kitchen.

You were in the middle of making coffee, turning around with the steaming hot mug in your hands when a circle sizzled in front of you. The cup fell from your hand and you stumbled back as something flew out from the growing green. You squealed and throw the milk in your other hand into the hole, the red thing coming back into your line of sight as you did. It wasn’t Wanda so you screamed and reached for the nearest thing – the sugar basin – to throw at the thing.

“Get the fuck away!” Sam’s mug was next to shatter against the wall, then Wanda’s, then Clint’s, you were about to reach for Scott’s – but he’s been a sweetheart during your entire stay and he valued mugs as much as you did so – you reached for Bucky’s instead and threw it at the man.

Wait a minute.

“Who the fuck are you?!” You lifted the coffeemaker as you watched the man float out of the now ­large air hole and into the room. “Come any closer and I swear I’ll—”

“What the hell is going on?” Sam was the first to run into the room, shield in one arm and a lamp in the other, brown eyes wide and dangerous as they landed on your terrified form.

Bruce ran in through the wall, hulked out and battle-crying, heaving and ready to pummel. Clint had his crossbow locked and loaded – you were certain he slept with it – as he came in through the new doorway Hulk had just made. Scott landed and human-sized in front of you, ready to be used as your human shield. Bucky and Wanda slid into the room right behind Sam, Wanda’s hands were glowing and Bucky’s arm was twisting in anticipation.

“Is this how you welcome your guests?” Steven Strange began as he landed on his feet, carton of milk in one hand as the liquid dripped down from his hair onto his shoulder. “‘Cause I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies.”

The red terror mechanism floated back to the man and attached itself onto his shoulders, and you nearly lunged at him.

Clint looked around the room, everyone seemingly as confused as he was. Sam lowered the lamp and Bruce took a deep breath to calm down.

“Strange.” Sam acknowledged, narrowed eyes darting between you and the man. “What’s going on?”

“I was attacked by your current keeper.” Is the man’s simple response.

As if anticipating your rage, Scott ant-sizes just as you fling the machine at the man. “You were attacked?!” You shrieked, grabbing the fruit basket on the counter and throwing it at him. “I’ll fucking show you attacked, you creepy old fuck! You and that fu—”

“Woah—” Everyone was crouching behind something as soon as you yanked open the cutlery drawer, anticipating your weapon of choice.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” You were carelessly grabbing and tossing knives at him, and they kept disappearing mid-air. “You can’t just come out of thin air unannounced and expect to be welcomed with open arms like some kind of zit! Do I look like an acne prone teenager?!”

Strange rolled his eyes and extended his hands. “I’m getting tired of this—”

You quickly moved to pick up a bar stool and pointed the steel portion at him. “Move those fucking hands an inch and I’ll fucking feed you to Barnes!”

Bucky blinked from behind the kitchen doorway, turning only to find Sam grinning cheekily at him. “Is she speaking from personal experience?” He whispered, wiggling his eyebrows knowingly at Bucky. “Wham-bam-thank-yo—wooah”

Sam flew into the kitchen and landed at your feet, his groans stopping abruptly at the sight of Scott sitting on the broken handle of his gold mug. “Great landing, Cap.” Scott mused.

Bucky walked back into the room, aware of the confused expressions on your and Strange’s faces, as he stood over Sam. “Wham, bam, there goes Sam.”

You blinked at both men, then turned back to the source of your anger – only to be angered once again as you saw the red cape wrap around the chair. You narrowed your eyes at him as you gripped tightly onto your weapon. “I will burn you.”

“Okay—” Wanda’s hands wrapped around your wrists, “—how about we calm down and talk like rational adults.”

You bared your teeth at the cape. “Tell the witch to lower his little rug and I’ll consider boiling him alive instead.”

Steven frowned at that, eyebrows furrowing as he turned to Bruce – whom had just entered back into the room with Clint.

“She means ‘not’ boiling you alive.” Bruce smiles tentatively at the Doctor.

“No,” Clint shook his head, “no she doesn’t.”

--

You were fuming the remainder of the day, barrelling through rooms with smoke coming from your ears.

Dr Steven Strange, as you were later told by Pepper, was there to join in on the preparations of the event and help you in any way that he can. His magic fleece blanket followed you around every where you went and whenever you ended up in the same room as him and Pepper, she would conveniently excuse herself and leave you two to talk.

You knew her well enough to know she was trying to set you up, the tie of his suit matched your dress for the night – you had demanded to see it to make sure it was appropriate, and you were utterly disappointed that you didn’t have a reason to send him back home – and you currently trying to find a dress in Wanda’s closet that suited the night. One that wouldn’t match the annoying prick’s outfit or his cape.

“—me, match with that insufferable man witch?,” you argued as you rampaged through the closet, “I’m pretty sure men like him incited the witch hunt back in the old days—” you huffed as you pulled out a burgundy dress, “—remind me to take you shopping after this. I can’t believe I’ve been too busy to check the things in your—I mean who does he think he is?!”

You turned around to find Jonah staring at you blankly from Wanda’s desk chair, while she sat cross-legged on her bed eating away at her tube of ice cream and watching you with amusement. Jonah was supposed to finish the last details that you were to upset to handle and report back to you, while you insured everyone was dressed and ready – especially a certain super soldier, that you’ve been avoiding all morning.

“That’s a really nice shirt,” she mused, pointing at the shirt you hadn’t had the time to change out of. “Where did you get it?”

“It’s a little Buchanan for your taste, though.” Jonah added, head tilting to the side as he eyed you.

Wanda nodded, “too Barnes and Noble.”

“Is it imported?” He asked, leaning forward with wide eyes of feigned interest. “Romanian perhaps?”

“Christ—” You gritted your teeth as you glared up at the ceiling.

“I suppose there is a resemblance,” Wanda stated as she turned to Jonah, “hmm? What with the long hair?”

“And that annoying beard—” He quickly turned back to you, “—did it give you like a rug burn when his face was b—”

“For fuck’s sakes!” You threw a hanger at him before he could finish his sentence. “Since when did the two of you get along? You hated each other’s guts literally a few days ago.”

Silence filled the room. Wanda visibly tensed and looked down at the tub of ice cream, mumbling something in a language you couldn’t identify – hopefully, you thought, Russian. Jonah leaned against the chair and shrugged, deciding the file he had brought for you was suddenly far more interesting than the question you had asked. You frowned, eyeing Wanda’s reddening cheeks and Jonah’s uncharacteristically nonchalant behaviour. You knew Wanda well, but you knew Jonah even better.

Jonah was a passionate man in ways that didn’t need you being in his bed to know. Everything he had, did, was never dull or rational. In fact, you were the rational one in this duo. He was always filled emotion, very reactive, the only time he was ever indifferent about something – or someone – was when it had to do with Bucky or the occasional ex that you both ran into on one of your outings.

“Wait a minute—” Your eyes widened at the realization, “—You two—you and Wanda—you guys did the dirty? You did the deed? You got filthy with each other? Are you kidding me?!”

“I would have liked to turn it into something other than the occasional fuck,” Jonah retorted, then pointed at Wanda with the file in his hand. “But little miss mourning over here has commitment issues—”

“Holy shit!” You gaped at them.

“—Don’t turn this around on me!” Wanda fired back at Jonah, eyes flaring dangerously at him. “You’re the one that said you don’t normally do this—”

“—Yeah, sleeping with superhero clients is kind of not in my rule book!”

“Oh, but dating them is?”

“What can I say, I’m old fashioned!”

“You’re a pig!”

“And yet you still let me take you several ways to Sunday, all over this room—”

“Oh my god!” You nearly gagged as you threw the clothes in your hands at the floor. “Oh my god—” You cringed and shuddered violently, your eyes at the sight of your bare feet on the carpet and you made a beeline for the door. “Oh my fucking god!” You used the hems of the shirt to help you open the door.

Jonah rolled his eyes at you. “You don’t get to be dramatic—” He got up to follow, “—you banged Barnes into submission and now Pepper is setting you up with the Wizard of Oz, that’s more sex than I’ve had in less th—”

“I’m not going to sleep with that wannabe Magician!” You were storming down the hallway, with a hot shower and a thorough scrubbing in mind.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You nearly fell as you blanched at the thought, groaning as your skin began to inch with disgust. Why did you constantly surround yourself with assholes?

Jonah merely laughed at your disgusted expression, enjoying this moment of your faded façade. In the time that he has worked with you, he has never seen you like this, so frazzled and responsive. You weren’t an open book, many had tried to woo you and failed, others tried to get under your skin, but it proved to be an impossible task. He knew where your buttons were, but he could never really press with them hard enough to get a powerful reaction from you. You got annoyed, but never ‘throw things at him’ annoyed. You got frustrated, but never ‘move into the room next to him’ frustrated. Maybe it was the fact that he was one of the few people you considered family – heaven knows how big that emotional distance is between you and your blood – or maybe it was the mere fact that he wasn’t Bucky (or the Good Doctor, as he had now realised). But he would gladly enjoy the you without the weight or the chip on your shoulder while he still can. While you’re both still there…

You were passing by the common room when Pepper’s voice stopped you.

“Y/N?” Her eyes were red and frantic as she waved the papers in her hand. “What’s this?”

Frowning at the occupied room, you made your way towards her and took the papers in your hand. “What is it?” Jonah asked from behind you.

“It’s a warrant of arrest for everyone.” You mumbled, skimming through the papers before sighing and look at the mother of your goddaughter. “Where did you get this?”

“I have a friend in the justice department.” Rhodes said from behind Pepper. “Apparently those warrants are to be issued an hour into the event, tonight. Funny how everyone’s names are on them except yours.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What happened to trusting me?”

Pepper let out a sob. “Oh my god—” She gaped at you. “—You knew about this?”

“Pep—”

“There is an arrest warrant out for Morgan and you didn’t tell me?!”

“She wasn’t going to get arrested, that’s not part of the pl—”

“—Your plan is to get my daughter arrested?!”

[lefaystrent]

LeFay’s Masterlist

Here’s a list of all of my Sanders Sides stories. There’s a lot down there. Lots of pairings, lots of genres. Don’t get lost.

ONE-SHOTS 

20biteen??? – Patton’s really confused and Logan’s just trying to make a sandwich.

A demon? In my attic? More likely than you think --  “Well that’s what happens when your dad asks you to clean the attic and it’s filled with a bunch of junk from his wiccan days,” Virgil explained, though from the demon’s pinched expression the explanation left a lot to be desired.

A Dire Situation -  Logan tries not to make a single move or sound. His whole body coils tight with tension, knowing that the animal can strike at any moment. (additional parts can be found here)

A Storm Rolled into Town -  It’s not like Virgil meant to become famous anyway. It just sorta happened. And now he’s shopping in some small-town mom-and-pop store on a weekday morning. Despite wearing the hood of his jacket up and perhaps looking the more conspicuous for it, he can sense that someone somewhere in this store is watching him.

Ashes –Three months ago, Roman returned home to find the house that he shared with his younger brothers up in flames.

Baby you’re a Firework - “Patton is MY best friend!” you screamed, and then you looked to me with those eyes. How else was I supposed to react other than to tell you that we would be together forever? Logicality

Beneath the Boughs –The feeling of tender fingertips tracing from his jaw to his temple made him want to run through fields, but he wouldn’t move an inch away from this spot for anything in the world. Royality

Curiosity – Deceit’s mission to annoy Logan somehow involves sharing a bed with him and refusing to leave. Logan doesn’t really mind. Loceit

Death of a Bachelor - Virgil invites a bunch of billionaires to his fake wedding with his roommate, Logan. He doesn’t expect one of them to actually agree to go. 

Dino – Patton visits his local library one day and meets the librarian Logan, a man who loves dinosaurs.

Down by the Pier – Patton lives by the ocean. He likes to go sit out on the pier because the view is sweet but the company is even sweeter. Moxiety

Every Friday Night – “There’s a cat? In the sink?” Virgil said. platonic LAMP

Existentialism – Patton is a demon and really bad at it.

Five Times – There were five times that Virgil’s path crossed with Logan Sanders. Each time memorable, each time helping to shape Virgil into the kind of person he wants to be. platonic Analogical

Flutter and Fall – Virgil doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he wonders if you can fall in love with a moment. Prinxiety

Happy Birthday, Virgil – Logan tends to take things literally.

Heartbeat – Roman’s out on the hunt for prey. He gets more than he bargained for.

Heartbeat AU – More info on the story.

Hello Mr. Spider -  He’s heard the screams of people whenever they lay eyes on him. They take one look at him, this monstrous being with too many limbs and eyes, and they quiver in fear and tears. He doesn’t blame them. He hides himself away, hoping to never hear those horrified screams. Moxiety

Hello Again -  Humans trespassed into the church occasionally. Some during the day, most of them at night. Never did humans come two nights in a row. Moxiety (Sequel to “Hello Mr. Spider”)

Hold On -  He felt someone grip the sleeve of his shirt. Logan looked to his side where Deceit stood, holding onto him. platonic Loceit

How to be a Good Person - “There’s an unconscious man in my flowerbed. What should I do with him?” Dee should be used to getting phone calls from his brother needing help. brotherly Moceit

I got to pet the dog -  Patton gets distracted easily. Virgil doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s supposed to be working.

I met God last night - Predictably, Patton looked up to stare at Virgil. He set aside his scrapbook, clasped his hands together, and said, “Okay, I’m listening.” platonic Moxiety

I wanna intimi(date) you — Virgil teaches Patton to be more intimidating. It doesn’t go very well.

In a magical kingdom far away… —  The evil Lord Of Logic descends on the land, forcing all it touches to obey the laws of physics.

It’s hot – Virgil won’t take off the jacket.

Love Isn’t Blind – Patton notices a lot more than what people think he does.

Never Too Old – Patton worked as a manager at a toy store in the mall. Lately, the employees were noticing a reoccurring customer. Well, if you could call him a customer. He never actually bought anything. platonic Moxiety

Picture That –  “What are you doing?” Patton says between a flurry of giggles. He lifts the book he’d been reading to half hide his face. Roman dances around him snapping pictures as if Patton is a model. Royality

Piggyback – It’s late, and Patton’s falling asleep on the couch. Virgil’s not used to being the responsible one. Moxiety

Potatoes – Virgil has worries for days, but there’s only one thing that truly scares him. Moxiety

Rewrite – So here Roman is, lying by the sidewalk, very much not okay. Not because the local squirrels ostracized him, and not because he’d tripped or some such unfortunate mishap. No, he just has a lot on his mind. Prinxiety

Ribbit – Two lab partners and one dead frog do not make for the most romantic atmosphere but Roman tries. Logince

Roamin’ Nights -  Not that anyone’s looking right now, but Virgil’s glad that it’s dark in the kitchen, lest the color in his cheeks show. Roman’s not usually this affectionate with Virgil. Makes him wonder if he even realizes that this is Virgil he’s basically trying to use as a pillow. Prinxiety

Round and round we go – Logan stood there long after the commotion began outside, the one where everyone realized what had happened and were running to help and call an ambulance.

Sacrificial rituals and other fun activities – Virgil was a mage—one of the best. He’d seen a lot of things, but a handsome man chained up in the middle of a field? Even he had to take a moment. Prinxiety

Shark Attack! -  “I could be wrong here, but I’m pretty sure sharks don’t attack their victims with hugs.” platonic Moxiety

Sicky Icky – Most people assumed Roman would eat up all the attention he could get even when sick. They’d expect loud dramatics and Roman acting like he was dying every minute of it. That’s not how he was at all. Logince

Side-by-side – Virgil’s tired. Moxiety

So help me, I’m not moving from this spot – Virgil has the day off from work and chooses to spend it in true Virgil style. Queer platonic LAMP

Soft Prinxiety – Literally just a softy prinxiety scene. Prinxiety

Some Days – Some days are better than others, and some aren’t. These are Virgil’s days in the mindscape.

Someday I’ll find my way home -  Love cut deep and left scars on the heart. The heart never quite beat the same way again afterward. Analogical

Supposed to be – People get locked into a certain kind of perspective and decide what kind of person you’re supposed to be. Patton is frustrated.

Take Over the World - There’s not much else to do in the Mindscape for Deceit and the Duke.

That one time Deceit played hero in the mindscape – Deceit goes to the common rooms to find that everyone…is acting too much like themselves.

The Hug Booth -  In Patton’s free time, he had a booth set up somewhere on campus and he’d go sit there. The booth advertised ‘free hugs’.

The Ties that Bind – Everyone has a soulmate. Even the ones who probably shouldn’t. Logicality

This is the police! – “This is the police! Open up! Tell me something about yourself, don’t be afraid.” Prinxiety

Ties - Roman and Patton try to persuade Logan to wear a bow tie. Logan is uncooperative. romantic LAMP

Trances – The sides go into trance-like states sometimes.

Trouble in Tiny Town -  Logan is six inches tall. And somehow the human is the one cowering in fear.

Useless gays are useless – Patton is shirtless and Roman and Virgil are very, very gay. Roman/Patton/Virgil

Stil Gay -  Roman and Virgil are still thirsty gays, and Patton is a tall drink of water. One night of tv watching with his roommates leads to none of them paying attention to the tv. Roman/Patton/Virgil (Sequel to “Useless gays are useless”)

Wake up call -  There’s a muffled siren blaring from outside somewhere. He can feel the time slipping between his fingers.

We are family~ - “Patton,” Logan called. He stood in the doorway, stern-faced for a moment before slumping forward with a pout. “I require physical affection.” platonic LAMP

MULTI-CHAPS

Analogince - What started as a list of headcanons became a story of how three men fell together. part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Dog Days – In the midst of grieving for his beloved pet, comfort comes to Thomas in a curiously small form. platonic LAMP/Thomas, borrower!sides 

If you have nightmares, we’ll dance on the bed - Fae thrived on chaos and the fear that came with it. Well, most of them anyway. Virgil never really shared that sentiment. (Or alternatively, the story of how Virgil loves humans so much that he makes stupid decisions because of it, like save princes from attempted assassinations.)

Kid!Logan AU – Logan somehow finds himself back in time, waking up in his eleven-year old body.

Reverse Kid!Logan AU –  Roman just wanted a normal babysitting job. Now he’s caught up in debunking why he sees five-year-old Logan Sanders as if he were a grown man. part one , part two

Lifeline – Long ago, when his sides first started showing up, Thomas had pondered long and hard about reality versus imagination. But this? It became more apparent that Patton was carding his hand through Thomas’s hair. It was as if any of his friends were doing it, so tangible it was. Tangible in a way that shouldn’t be possible. platonic LAMP/Thomas

Nursing Home AU -  Patton had seen Virgil during the hiring process, and his personality didn’t seem like a … good fit. Too closed-off and kinda gruff, and probably not a good bedside manner, right? Plus there was that criminal record to consider… But he’s hired anyway, and Virgil joins the staff.

Psychic Therapist Virgil – Virgil’s not your run-of-the-mill therapist. part one, part two

Roses – The humans steer clear from the forest, warning their children with every generation, “Do not stray into those woods. They will devour you.” But it’s modern times now, fairy tales aren’t real, and Virgil and his friends have just moved into town and want to investigate the ‘haunted’ forest.

Variants – Patton was surprised by the mutant breaking into the jewelry store one night. And by break in, he meant that they seeped into shadows and appeared on the other side of the windows without breaking anything at all.

Weclome to the Neighborhood –Virgil’s really bad at peopling, or so his new neighbors find out. Prinxiety

Witch Way -  Virgil just wants to live a quiet life with his familiar, Logan. But we can’t always get what we want.