#rob you will never escape twilight

[evermoredeluxe]

not hayley saying “i’d like to dedicate this next song to mr waterhouse. he has the skin of a killer don’t he?” SCREAMING

[ilikeyoshi]

another day another annoying modern greek goddess per3phone girlboss take

[raisedbythetv89]

I hate all of this “well he was Buffy’s first love!” talk when discussing how much pain and devastation Angel caused in Buffy’s life as if for women our first loves MUST be horrible and painful always???? As if it was unavoidable anyway so let’s not be too critical of him.

First off, HE LITERALLY WASNT EVEN HER FIRST LOVE

The show acknowledges what happens in the movie so canonically what happened in the movie happened to tv show Buffy INCLUDING HER RELATIONSHIP. ANGEL WAS NOT HER FIRST LOVE.

Angel was just the first guy who stalked and targeted Buffy when she was at her most vulnerable and continued to constantly lie and manipulate her for his own selfish gains only to toss her aside once she no longer served her original purpose while continuing to lead her on and show up in her life every time she tried to move on and THAT is why it was so painful!!!

STOP NORMALIZING THE PAIN CAUSED BY ABUSE AND MANIPULATION AS THE SAME THING AS REGULAR HEARTBREAK IN NORMAL RELATIONSHIPS.

I did not have a good childhood, my parents had a horrible divorce when I was 7 and I had never seen a healthy relationship modeled IN MY LIFE - AND YET - my first serious relationship when I was 16 while it definitely had it problems like all young love does (his friends didn’t like how much time he spent with me and his mom both hated me for “taking her son away” but also loved me because she wanted a daughter so badly but only had sons - she was insane lol and we were both teenagers who made stupid teenager mistakes) he was with me for 3 1/2 years and absolutely would have married me if that was what I had wanted.

He would sneak out to see me when I was sad despite his strict parents, always bought me lunch because I would eat what I was sent to school with by 10 AM because I was STARVING because I had an almond mom who never fed either of us enough. Would happily listen to me rant about the twilight books as I read them during that whole phase, WROTE ME A SONG for my birthday (he was actually a talented musician and works as a sound engineer and music producer now) and basically just spent every second he could either with me or talking to me when we were apart. He loved taking me on dates and writing me love notes and we just laughed all the time. He was my best friend as well as my boyfriend and ending that relationship because I had outgrown him was SO PAINFUL because he loved me so much and even during the break up - which I handled HORRIBLY - he was kind and even gave me the birthday present he had bought me because he wanted me to have it even though it was still months away. (I say all of this to try and just show first loves CAN be more than just pain and devastation and if it isn’t making you happy a minimum 80% of the time and you instead just feel sad and confused THAT IS NOT NORMAL AND YOU DESERVE BETTER 🩷)

I know good experiences are not the case for everyone when it comes to first relationships and that’s awful and is not fair because young love SHOULD be innocent and naive. Just two idiots in love who have no clue what they’re doing but just happy to be around each other no matter what they’re doing (like what willow got to experience with Oz in high school) and Angel robbed Buffy of those experiences. He broke her trust of other people and in love and her trust in HERSELF - that’s not her “first love” that’s her first abusive relationship and calling it “her first love” or worse “her soulmate” only serves the patriarchy and harms little girls everywhere who grow up not knowing to look for or expect better because everyone around them and society is telling them “your first experiences with love and sex will be awful and painful and there’s no escaping it” when that is just NOT TRUE at all, especially if you date someone age appropriate in high school. Angel is the first older “man” she dated and like all older men with high school girls do, he took advantage of that imbalance in power in literally every way possible and I will despise that whiney little bitch until the end of time for that and wish he would have just stayed trapped in that hell dimension until the end of time as it is what he deserves.

“True love” doesn’t require severe pain and tears for it to be deep or meaningful. Don’t believe the lies terrible men like jw and so many others feed us.

[vintagelasvegas]

Spring Mountain Ranch, 1970

The springs of this ranch area made it one of the oldest settlements Las Vegas Valley by Native Americans. By the 1830s it had become a campsite for Euro-American explorers using the Spanish Trail.

Sgt. James B. Wilson and George Anderson established Sand Stone Ranch here in 1876. Their heirs operated the ranch for decades. It was also called Wilson Ranch. On the night of 1/17/42 a rancher in the area witnessed an airplane, "passing over in the twilight … the tail was bobbing up and down and otherwise acting in a peculiar manner." The plane crashed and killed Carole Lombard and 21 others. Tweed Wilson, grandson of the ranch founder, was among the guides who led the search party to the crash site.

Chet Lauck bought the property in '48. He built the ranch house from sandstone and redwood, and renamed it Bar Nothing Ranch.

German Baroness Vera Krupp bought the ranch in '55, expanded, added the pool, and changed the name to Spring Mountain Ranch. Here on a night in '59 she was tied with wire and robbed of a 33-carat diamond. It was next owned by Howard Hughes, who never came to the ranch.

In '72 California auto dealers Fletcher Jones and William Murphy bought the 520 acre ranch from Hughes Tool Co. and announced plans to building a housing community that would support 2000 people. The proposal was defeated by the Nevada Open Space Council and Red Rock Advisory Committee.

The property was sold to the State of Nevada, along with 80 acres at Pine Creek and rights to 52 springs in the valley and surrounding mountains. Spring Mountain Ranch State Park was established in '73. Under the original name Sand Stone Ranch it was listed in the National Register of Historic Places, 4/2/76.

Many of the buildings on the property have been renovated and restored including the sandstone cabins, blacksmith shop, outhouse and the hay and horse barn. Interior improvements were made throughout the ranch house. The above ground irrigation pipes were replaced with underground irrigation and trails were built for the park itself.

Photos: (1, 2) by Vernon Merritt, LIFE magazine. (3) Undated, Howard Hughes Professional and Aeronautical Photographs (PH-00321), UNLV Special Collections.

Saving Spring Mountain Ranch: A baroness, a billionaire, an enchanted escape, and the preservationists who put you on the invitation list - by Jonathan Warren.

Elizabeth Warren: Passionate Defender of Historic Las Vegas Architecture and Landscapes. The Women Who Saved History podcast.

History of Spring Mountain Ranch - Nevada State Parks.

National Register of Historic Places #76001141 Sandstone Ranch

[moominofthevalley]

Sullen Girl

After returning to New York from a few grueling months in Drakovia, Detective Rose looks into her past.

trystan x emily

teen | wc: 1.5k | cw: mentions of grief & death of a parent

No matter where she was, Emily was always in Box Thirty-Two. The chanting of the crowd, the stadium organ, the death rattle from her father endlessly cemented in her mind. A ghost in a haunted house, an unwilling participant in an escape room with no key to escape.

She was only thirteen when she found her father dead on the floor, and yet all she had to cling to were faded memories and a tombstone with his name. There were so many moments the late father missed out on. Her first heartbreak, her graduation, the moment she quit the force and became a detective. Emily Rose would spend the rest of her life thinking of her father through a child’s lens.

Emily knew what closure does to people. To Trystan. She stared at Juliana Georgescu's grave, sitting with Trystan as he looked back on the love they once had. The love that was robbed from him. Placing the novel beside her tombstone. The resolve in Trystan’s eyes. The robin in the tree from above, chirping knowingly.

When a parent dies, their children are supposed to know how they passed. It broke Emily’s heart to think back to the night of her father’s death. Helplessly staring at Uncle Tommy as he tried his best to sugarcoat the news; staining the two of them with a burning question in their hearts. She should have known then, and yet, fifteen years later, the flame in her heart continued to flicker.

Opening her eyes, Trystan’s arms wrapped around her waist. She scooted closer, her forehead resting on his chest. Trystan squeezed her back lightly, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

“What’s wrong?”

Cold tears slipped down Emily’s cheek. She sat up from his bed, her hands trembling. Trystan sat up, his hand stilling hers.

“My dad,” Emily clutched her chest, “I keep thinking about him.” Trystan wrapped her in a tight hug, tracing circles on her back.

“I’m so sorry.” His arms stayed around her, waiting for her to go on.

“I keep...getting nightmares,” she gulped, “of what happened. It started getting worse again...ever since Drakovia.” Her head drooped low, eyes stinging with heavy tears.

“I’m so sorry...” He trailed off, pondering what to say, “If you’d like...you can talk about him and I’ll listen. Tell me anything about him while I go make you some breakfast, okay?” Emily nodded, rubbing her eyes.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Thank you.”

The couple got out of bed, the windy New York weather sending goosebumps up and down their arms. As soon as Trystan opened the door, a thrilled Twilight ran up to them, her tail wagging. Emily smiled at her, raking her hands up and down Twilight’s back.

“Go lay down on the couch with her. Breakfast shouldn’t take too long.”

Emily laid down; Twilight followed suit as she rested her head on the detective’s lap. Emily tried her best to reminisce about the fond moments with her father. She tried, she did, but the only thing her memories brought was bitterness. She’d never have another moment with him. That was the cold truth. She’d never sit on his lap, never be able to watch Ghost Busters with him when she was sad, never be able to tell him another ‘I love you.’ Emily Rose was never granted a gentle last moment with her father. Children are never supposed to lose a parent, not at thirteen, not until they become grey and worn down. She never got to see her father grow old; instead, she saw him bleed out and die right in front of her.

“...Emily?” Trystan looked up from the kitchen, concerned.

“Uh—fuck! Sorry. I got carried away,” she uttered, clearing her throat. Steadying herself, a memory quickly popped up. A hint of a smile curled at the corners of her lips.

“When I was a kid,” Emily chuckled, “I was super into rocks. Crystals, gems, whatever. And one day, Dad told me that he ate a rock and it freaked me the fuck out. He showed me this huge bag of rocks and then he...put one in his mouth and told me to try one. I tried one, and they’re made of chocolate! Chocolate fucking rocks! I don’t know, I just thought it was the funniest thing ever.”

“That’s a sweet story,” Trystan said, grabbing two mugs from his cupboard. “You must’ve gotten your wit from him, huh?”

“Yeah,” she grinned, “I did.”

“So, are you gonna tell me what you’re making?” Emily asked, her eyes on Trystan as he brewed coffee.

“Nope! You, my dear, will just have to wait and see. Now, tell me another story.”

Grumbling, Emily patted Twilight’s head, searching for another moment to be shared. She scanned Trystan's penthouse as if looking at the abstract paintings would remind her of her father. Her eyes turned to a nearby bookcase. Emily marveled at the sight, admiring the scratched-up beauty. A golden snake was engraved at the very top center, clearly a Thorne heirloom. All sorts of books, antique and modern, were delicately set on each shelf. From afar, an entire collection of the Aubrey-Maturin series sat at the very top of the shelf. Emily’s heart grew, adoring that both she and Trystan shared a fascination with literature.

“My dad named me after Emily Brontë. Wuthering Heights was his favorite book. Every night before I’d go to bed, he’d read me a bunch of her poems. I never understood what they meant as a kid, but...I still loved listening to him.”

“Emily is a lovely name,” Trystan smiled, “I don’t have Wuthering Heights, but I do have Jane Eyre on my bookshelf if you’d want to read it.”

Emily glanced at the two mugs sitting beside the stove, her heart bursting. What a joy everything was — to love and be loved. To wake up in the cold mornings with her bare feet cuddling Trystan’s; enjoying the soothing touch of his mismatched socks. It was all so new, how there’d be two of everything every time she cooked breakfast. Two scrambled eggs, two cups of coffee, and two plates to get from the cupboard. It was all so beautiful, so mesmerizing. How someone entered her life, and soon enough, her life no longer followed a single, straight line — instead, it became jagged with two pairs of footsteps following the path. To love another being so intently was the best thing she ever did.

Trystan poured two cups of coffee, their hearth warm. Emily sat on the kitchen barstool; head tilting at the tub of peanut butter and a sandwich.

“You made me...just a peanut butter sandwich?” She asked, unamused. Trystan smirked, handing her one plate and keeping the other for himself.

“Just try it!”

Her mouth watered at the taste of peanut butter and marshmallows. Moments of her father and her younger self flickered through her mind. Emily swallowed the first bite, glancing at Trystan warmly.

“Oh my God," She gawked, “you made me a fluffernutter sandwich?” The memory of them both trapped in a freezer coursed through her head. Cuddling together, shivering as if they were on the brink of death, and Emily; telling Trystan the loving moments she had with her dad.

“You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” Trystan grinned. “Mind of a steel trap! Even when we’re both locked in a freezer.”

“I love you, Trystan.”

“I love you, too.”

Wiping away a splotch of peanut butter on her lip, Trystan gazed into her soulful eyes before kissing her. Pulling apart, another twinge of grief crept up to her. Emily resented herself at that instant, furious that such a sweet moment lasted only a mere few minutes. Her eyes were hooded with sorrow, bereavement clouding her mind.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s been...fifteen years since he died,” she mumbled, “And I’m so fucking scared of forgetting things. What if everything I remember about him just...goes away? What if I never find out who killed him?”

Trystan sighed, sitting next to her. Placing his hand in hers, their eyes met.

“Emily, I think...as long as you keep talking about him, he’ll never go away. And one day, you will find out who murdered him. It might not be today, or even this year, but it will come.”

Emily grinned, reminiscing about her father’s face. Nearly every aspect of him has always been a part of her. She admired that she kept his narrowed earthly eyes, strong nose, and heavenly grin.

‘Life is not measured in years, but the memories we leave behind.’ Not only did Jimmy leave behind a loving childhood to look back on; but he also left her his legacy. It’s hers to keep, hers to share if she’d like to; and hers to cherish.

* * * * A/N: today is ‘national fluffernutter day.’ figured it would be perfect to post this lol. and if you can’t tell, i’ve been listening to lots and lots of mitski, watching mike flanagan shows, and re-watching Fleabag as of late! death & love are just such interesting things to write about, and luckily crimes of passion is just full of that haha! hope you liked it c:

click here to find a masterlist of all my writings so far! more coming soon!

tags: @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @mooserii (let me know if anyone else would like to be tagged when i post more crimes of passion fics!)

[cantfightmoonlight]

"Where's your apron, Moonfang?" She asked, feigning a look of disappointment, before a teasing smile managed to break across her lips. Scooting a little closer when he settled down beside her, she found herself resting her head against his shoulder. Choosing not to think too much on how this man's mere presence seemed to put her at ease these days, she, instead, glanced down to the precariously tall stack of food in his hands. "I can see that... Did you rob your own bbq?" She tilted a brow up at him as the sweet and airy sound of laughter managed to escape her lips. "And miss out on these life changing steaks I've heard so much about? Never. So, what are we trying first?" She wondered, despite the look of skepticism still dancing across her deep brow eyes as she peered from him to the stacked plate and back to him.

"Apparently. Though, you are an athlete or so you like to remind me," She hummed out, pressing a light kiss against his shoulder blade. Only for her brows to lift back up at him once more. Another giggle breaking from her lips at the mention of who she could only imagine to be Ralph. "What did I tell you? What did I tell you? I think it was something along the lines of 'we'll end up babysitting and I'm not to be held responsible if your wolves end up having to dodge slingshots', is that right?" She mused, thoroughly entertained by the idea that J.C. would be out there chasing Ralph around the Castillo's yard. "Though, all jokes aside, please tell me you did take the fireworks from him, because if not, we're going to have to go back fairly soon and make sure he doesn't actually burn down the whole forest," She admitted, not exactly wanting to hear what the other leaders would surely use as ammunition against her if Ralph actually did.

"Baseball antics?" Her brows creased. "We didn't even play you in baseball and it's not my fault Twilight got one thing right," She teased. Only the genuine smile that he had managed to pull from her lips fell the moment he asked her why she had wandered off by herself. "I..." She lifted her head from his shoulder. Her gaze drifting back out towards the trees around them as she admitted, "I didn't want to interrupt. You seemed preoccupied, so I figured why not take a breather?" And while that was all true, it was clear it was only half the story. After the amount of wins the Clan held, even after losing Capture the Flag, Meena would have had the brightest of smiles on her face. She likely would have been more than content hanging out with him by the grills or with the Clan. But, any join she held of watching her vampires have fun participating for once was stripped away the moment things all too personal. "Suresh and I had a fight," She said after a prolonged breath. "A bad one and it feels like with every step forwards, there always seems to be a step back. It's exhausting and I'm not sure how much longer I can keep doing it. I mean isn't doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results the definition of insanity or something? But, I also wasn't trying to ruin the mood. Believe it or not, I was actually kind of looking forward to this."

He was proud of the pack. While they had perhaps not conquered every event, they had not given up. That was worth celebrating. Their numbers vexed him in some way, in truth, the feeling of losing fellow wolves who ought to walk among them to the Coalition. But the joined forces of Capture the Flag had proven bolstering. Perhaps the whole thing could become a recruitment tool. Hell, he had even played nicely with the goddamn witches, annoying as they all were, and was trying, in earnest, to create some sort of rickety bridge with Poppy Reed.

Either way, JC had other things about which to worry right now. Manning the grills, directing others, trying to keep an eye on certain pain-in-the-ass vampires armed with slingshots and Roman candles...he was preoccupied. And to that end, he did not actually notice Meena until she was stepping deeper into the surrounding woods. Furrowing his brow, Júlio César watched her go before handing over his station to a nearby wolf to take over.

Slipping his apron over his head and tossing it across a table, he began loading a paper-plate with as much as it could hold. And really, there was maybe too much food in general. He knew Meena did not often eat, but he would offer it all the same, he decided. Setting off into the brush, then, his shoes crunching, JC came up behind her with a weak smile. "Hey," he replied, moving to settle down beside her. "I brought this for you. It's okay if you don't want it." A laugh escaped his throat, and JC rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks. We're all great at gym class, huh?" He sighed. "All this? Oh, this is nothing. It's going pretty well, though, don't you think? Except for your one little buddy. Is he always this patriotic or....?" He sighed. "You all did good, though. The baseball antics were a little precious if I'm being honest. But it was good" He smiled weakly. "Why you out here on your own?"

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

Hi! What is your very specific Twilight AU?

okay, so. New Moon.

party disaster, dumping her and dipping, all happens normally.

but THEN. Bella finds out she’s pregnant.

(and I know you’re thinking- pre-marital sex?!?! Edward would NEVER! but listen. I am the author now. I’ve been around Christians my whole life. shut up!)

so anyway after a million pregnancy tests and a lot of googling about vampire baby legends, Bella’s like...well this is probably gonna be a situation,

Nessie doesn’t have an insane growth rate here because I hate that, so she has a normal amount of time to prepare, and she’s very...aware that the birth is gonna be Rough at best. So she goes to Jacob

who is NOT a wolf yet but Is aware of the pack and the treaty, and they are closer friends already, and she’s like ‘hey. paranormal emergency. you’re the only person in this town who enables me. help.’

 and Jacob’s like I’m Fucking Fifteen and goes and gets Leah, since she’s technically an adult and a girl

(ms. meyer How did you make one of leah’s only 3 character traits ‘upset she’s infertile’ and then not have her support bella’s choices in breaking dawn please make it make sense)

 so they start brainstorming solutions and the best they can work with is. Bella’s gotta ride out the pregnancy in hiding. they have no way of knowing whether she can survive the pregnancy and the only clue they have about whether the baby will be a monster or not is from google searches, but they also can’t exactly take her to an obgyn when her uterus feels like it’s calcified and her ribs are getting broken and she seems to be craving blood

So, Leah’s got her own little place. Bella moves in there, telling Charlie she wants to move back in with Renee (she knows her parents would never willingly call each other so as long as she keeps up communicating with both of them they should be none the wiser of her growing a little dracula in Leah Clearwater’s basement).

Leah has already defected from the wolf pack at this point (because...the Cullen’s left and she didn’t really like any of the guys anyway lmao) so they don’t run the risk of them hearing her thoughts while she’s in wolf form. She goes out and hunts animals, brings them back and her and Jake drain the blood from them so Bella can drink it. All three of them find this extremely disgusting obviously but Jake’s loyal and a little bit lovestruck, Leah’s a supportive friend and queen, and Bella’s just trying to keep her and her baby alive, and none of them feel like trying to rob a blood bank

Bella is 100% certain the baby will just be a baby who happens to like blood, like she was in bd, but the tentative plan is that if a crazy soulless monster comes out of her Leah will...handle that...

Which neither are thrilled about, so Bella’s just trying to focus on staying positive. And between that, trying to survive and stay hidden, Bella doesn’t really have time to...Check Out the way she did in new moon. Like, she’s absolutely still depressed, and she’s still getting an occasional Edward hallucination because carrying a vampire baby counts as reckless in many books, but she’s just more...resigned and pissed than anything. She’ll have days like the ‘possibilities’ scene, but more often than not she’s just telling the Edward hallucination to go fuck himself when he’s begging her to find the real him so they can have Carlisle deal with the pregnancy 

at some point, Seth gets roped into the whole mess (he’s prone to just breaking into his sister’s house) but since he’s like, 13 and The Best Baby Boy he’s immediately supportive. He didn’t even fucking know about the wolves and the vampires until he walked in on a six months pregnant Bella drinking blood while his sister and Jacob are hacking away at a dead deer, but he’s like...you know when you were 13 and sneaking around about Anything made you feel like the coolest person alive? point is he’s helpful

AND he can get away with spending a lot of time at Leah’s house without anyone finding it weird, unlike Jacob, so he starts spending most of his free time there keeping Bella company and brightening her day up

HE is the one who enables her when she comes up with the name Renesmee lmao

(just because she hates Edward doesn’t mean Esme ever did anything wrong!)

“bella I’ll throw you out of this house if you don’t come up with a real name” “leah she’s white you can’t just disrespect her culture like this omg”

anyway these four become the DORKIEST and WEIRDEST little family it’s cute

so then. labor.

it’s less...graphic than in bd because Bella hasn’t been actively dying the whole pregnancy and she doesn’t snap her spine in half, but it’s still. bad.

she essentially delivers a rock that Nessie then begins chewing her way out of. she’s actively bleeding out. Jacob’s having a panic attack. Leah made Seth watch so he would never have unprotected sex and the scare tactic is working. Leah’s covered in Bella’s blood which is not great considering she’s Holding A Rock That A Vampire Is Emerging From

Leah’s been taking classes and researching deliveries so she needs to stitch Bella up and see what else is wrong but Seth is rocking back and forth on the floor crying and Jacob’s screaming and pacing too fast to grab so she’s like. Bella babe I know you’re dying but you need to hold this thing for me ksjdfllksf

so while she’s handling That, Bella’s got this weird little rock in her arms and is watching the baby slowly fight it’s way out like this is a very fucked up egg or something and she’s just. overwhelmed. maybe it’s the blood loss but she’s looking at the messy, scrunchy little face and she’s already in love and envisioning their lives together.

and then, you know, the baby bites her,

she has just enough time to think ‘how did we not think to prepare for that’ before she can feel the venom coursing through her. it’s just as bad as she remembers from James’ bite but somehow...easier to tolerate. she blacks out pretty quickly

the other 3 notice and are like : 👁👄👁

Jacob...literally explodes into a wolf On Spot

Seth darts out the fucking door he’s seen enough for one day

Leah, sole holder of the braincell, realizes Nessie just bit and isn’t drinking from Bella, and deduces this is like...a survival instinct or something. the baby instinctively changes it’s mother first thing. weirdly...touching? 

So she gets the baby and checks that everything is physically okay with Bella (apart from you know. changing species) and is like...guess this is an issue for 3 days from now Leah

more immediate pressing issues: screaming new born baby and oh, yeah, the giant red wolf in the basement,

“Jacob I know this is disorienting but if you break anything in my house I’ll fucking kill you”

she really just leaves the poor boy to go get the baby cleaned up and warm up some of the frozen blood they’ve got in her fridge (RUINING HER TUPPERWARE, BELLA)

she’s not worried about the wolf pack mind meld yet because she knows Sam took the guys on a mission way farther up the coast for a few days and they’ll be too far away to hear Jake. hopefully, by the time they get back, Bella will be awake and they’ll have made an escape plan by then

and as she’s bottle feeding blood to the baby she’s thrilled that it seems to be like...relatively normal and not s horrific monster or anything. mission: unwillingly murder my best friend’s baby has been successfully canceled 

“Oh Goddamn it....Renesmee DOES fit you...”

Seth, from where he’s cowering behind the couch: “told you”

so, Jake eventually calms down, they spend the next few days cooing over Nessie and brainstorming how to handle Bella when she wakes up a vampire, and also nicknaming Nessie ‘Nessie’ because they know Bella will find that intolerable and they feel she deserves karmic punishment for stressing them out so much lmao

so, three days are up. Seth’s upstairs putting on a way-too-elaborate puppet show for the baby with not a care in the world. Leah and Jake are in the basement because they know Bella probably won’t want their wolf blood and their ready to phase in case she gets a little aggressive

but she just wakes up and is like. hey! how’s it going? where’s my baby?

sjdhfksdj they were expecting feral but Bella still has her super self-control. she didn’t even realize she’d changed into a vampire until they told her lmao

Bella’s a little too freaked out to try hunting yet so they give her some of the stored blood they’ve been feeding Ness and she’s like. good to go. Leah’s about to scream like have the elders been exaggerating this whole time or is Bella truly a freak??? lol

So, they spend a couple days just...relaxing, Bella and Renesmee bonding, they’re trying to come up with fun places Bella can move to with the baby so no one she knows finds out, and every now and then Leah and Jake go out and she tries to help him get the wolf thing under control

and then,,,,the pack get back from their mission early

and immediately are able to read Jacob’s mind

so they head over to Start Shit because there’s two bloodsuckers on their land but,

the pack not attacking because Jake imprinted on Renesmee? tired. the pack not attacking because Jake’s Alpha Genes have taken over and declared Nessie and Bella as part of his Pack and attacking would literally start a war? inspired

so they hash the whole thing out....ultimately Sam decides Bella is more of a victim than a threat, and since neither her or Nessie seem to be going on a bloodlust rampage any time soon...he decides to grant them immunity from the whole ‘kill the vampires’ rule. He’ll let her and her daughter stay in La Push as long as they agree to stick to animals and only hunt out of town. PLUS from what little Bella knows about the Volturi, she’s worried about them finding out about Nessie, so they’ll offer protection if that does happen, in exchange for her being able to help them with intel on any other vampire threats in the area (you know like. if a nomad is fucking stuff up in a nearby city, they’ll send her to talk to them first before deciding if they need to intervene. Sam has become acutely aware he has a lot of teens and kids in his pack, so he’s trying to keep them out of fights as much as possible)  

anyway that’s the story of Nessie gaining like 17 chaotic as hell ride or die uncles,

let’s fast forward a bit

it’s like 15 years later. Bella’s not living with Leah anymore, but she’s got a cute apartment in a nearby town, and owns and runs a bookstore on the first floor of it. she got her ged and did college online and teaches night classes at a community college. She’s still in contact with her parents, who Adore the life out of Nessie. She still helps the pack out and they’re all close. Nessie is a handful but in a fun and lovable way. They go on little weekend trips whenever they have time. Bella’s happy.

but then a. Situation. arises.

basically, the Volturi have been made aware of some unknown vampire chasing others out of the pacific northwest and conspiring with shapeshifters. and you know when Aro gets curious he tends to spin things dramatically. who’s to say this vampire isn’t conspiring against all vampires? against them? why has no one’s special talents worked on her? he simply must find out.

Bella and the Pack get word and decide their best course of action for now is to go on the run. they’re not gonna be able to take on a whole army but if they can bide some time and lay low they might be able to figure something out

except Bella is like....I have a teenage hybrid that the Volturi don’t know about yet...it would be EXTREMELY irresponsible to take her with me

but she can’t send Nessie to Charlie or Renee because they don’t know about her...dietary restrictions. She can’t stay with Billy or anyone else in La Push because the Volturi might trace the pack’s scent there and discover her. She’s panicking, they have to leave in a few days max and she can’t find a safe place for her daughter

and then she’s like.....fuck.

she had run into Jasper a couple of years ago- they have the same forgery guy and were heading to his building around the same time as a coincidence. She promised to forgive him for the party incident if he promised not to tell Edward he saw her and that she’s a vampire now. He agreed, but then told her Edward’s been living on his own for a while now and insisted on giving her his number...she never could bring herself to call it or delete it...but now...if she wants to be 100% Nessie is safe and protected...

fuck

So, the past 15 years have been fairly rough for Edward

he’s still convinced leaving in order to save Bella was the best course of action, but like...the vampires canonically mate for life. that’s his soulmate. he’s absolutely miserable without her. he’s thought about cracking and going to find her again but he always talks himself out of it, convinced she’d just tell him she hates him or something

so as stated in his patented Edward Cullen Self Loathing Guide, first thing to do is isolate yourself from all the lovebirds you usually live with. Sure, he keeps in contact, but...not well. he’s currently living alone and posing as a university student. He’s not even really sure what he’s supposed to be majoring in. He’s mostly been in a haze since he left Forks.

and one day....he gets a call from an unknown number. he ignores it, thinking it’s a spam call. but then it calls like 8 more times in a row and he figures answering might be a bit smarter than simply throwing it at the wall

And Edward...swears he came back to life and immediately had a heart attack the second he hears Bella’s voice

He feels breathless and disoriented the whole conversation, trying to figure out if his memory did her voice any justice, trying to rush out 15 years worth of apologies, trying to comprehend she’s actually speaking to him.

But Bella’s very blunt on the phone. She doesn’t want to let herself get emotional. She’s on a time limit, and she has to focus on getting her daughter to safety

And Edward swears he somehow misheard her the first ten or so times she told him. He had a daughter? that wasn’t possible

“she has the audacity to be your Evil Twin so I’m pretty sure it’s possible”

so she gives him a rundown. she needs to go into hiding, no I don’t need your help with that, gives him details about Nessie, what she’s like, what she likes to do, her diet, her favorite color, how annoyed she is by this whole situation, “Edward I know you don’t love me anymore, but I remember how protective you were, and that’s what I need Nessie to have right now. She needs you right now” and Edward wants so badly to refute Bella’s claim of lost love, to tell her he has absolutely no idea how to be a parent, but...her tone is aching so much he can barely speak. He can’t let Bella down again, and he can’t let this little girl he foolishly created and left down anymore than he already has, either.

So he agrees, she tells him to be at the airport in a few days, and hangs up. 

Edward loses about half a day staring at a wall in shock, before he jumps into preparations.

Bella told him while their daughter possessed some speed and strength, hunting was fairly dangerous for her. She was more delicate than his kind, and had a heartbeat. Reheated blood bags had been their best option, and she also needed human food as well. He also had to get a room ready for her- he wandered around stores for hours, reading young girls minds to see if there was any furniture or decorations that were universally liked- which was of course, fruitless, but he did manage to find a handful of things he was sure Bella would have liked at that age, and prayed for the best. He somehow got himself covered in purple paint that was a nightmare to get off. Bella had sent him some forged documents claiming Nessie was his younger sister he’d won custody of, and he got her enrolled in a nearby school. He lived every day leading up to her arrival staving off a panic attack.

it wasn’t until he was on the way to the airport that he realized he forgot to inform his family about this life update. they must’ve been on a hunting trip, because he got nothing but voicemails 

imagine being Carlisle and you come home to a voicemail from your son who’s banished himself from the family that’s just like ‘hi. you’re a grandfather now. I’m having a nervous breakdown and might crash my car. call me back at your earliest convenience I suppose” like what would you DO

 after he gets to the airport he starts panicking again, realizing Bella had never actually sent him a picture, worrying about how he’d find her, but then- he sees a tiny girl with untamed, dark red curls, features strikingly similar to his own that are pulled into the expression Bella always made when she was reading, absently chewing on her lip, and before she looks at him with her mother’s big brown eyes, he already knows who he’s looking at, and he’s certain if he was human his tear ducts would be having a fit right now

Renesmee, however, seems less willing to have an emotional meeting. She mumbles out a simple greeting before gathering up her bags and heading for the door, Edward rushing behind her to try and help

listen. the awkwardness of Charlie trying to connect with Bella. but 10000x worse because of Edward’s overthinking, self-deprecating ass and Nessie being like ‘ah yes the guy who broke my pregnant teenage mothers heart, fantastic’ lmao

the car ride is p a i n f u l. Edward’s trying so hard for light conversation and Nessie’s barely giving one word answers. Bella had warned her about the mind reading so she was carefully keeping her mind blocked, which Edward is trying very hard to be understanding about instead of annoyed, but By God does he want to know everything about her

when they get back to his place, she quietly thanks him for the room and then promptly locks him out of it lol. He spends the rest of the day just pacing back and forth until he realizes he should eventually feed her lmao

and that’s...kinda how the first couple weeks go. she only emerges from her room if he bribes her with food, she awkwardly tries to dodge his questions, he drives her to school and then begs her to tell him how it went when he picks her up, he spends his college classes distracted because he’s freaking out constantly about how to successfully bond with her. His favorite time of day now is night, because she can’t block her mind while she’s asleep, and even if her dreams are all nonsense they’re still...part of her that he gets to know.

His family keeps begging him to let them meet her, but he’s pushing back because if she’s this bad at adjusting to one new family member, how is she going to handle six more?

(meanwhile Alice and Rose started a group chat with her and are having a ball clowning Edward lmao)

wait ksjflksd I think this vine perfectly sums up the dynamic im envisioning  https://youtu.be/wQZIUHNORHg

anyway they....very slowly make some progress. much too slowly for Edward’s taste, but hey.

Like he finds out snacks she likes. or jewelry she likes. stuff like that and just...wordlessly leaves it around for her lmao. he thinks it’s like trying not to startle a deer, Nessie thinks it’s more like a cat trying to gift you a dead mouse, but either way it’s weirdly endearing.

He notices she always has a huffy little frown when he picks her up on Wednesdays. So instead of begging her for an ounce of information of her school life, he asks her one Wednesday morning if she’s excited for the day and she admits she has an elective class every Wednesday with a girl she doesn’t get along with.

He gets her school photos (and Weeps) and realizes apart from her room the home is fairly barren of decorations, so he buys a bunch of picture frames and hangs up the school shots, and some pictures of the Cullen’s over the years, and the few he has of Bella that he could never bear to part with. Other than catching her smiling at the prom picture of her parents, Nessie doesn’t say anything- but the next time he comes home from hunting, there’s a pile of pictures of her growing up on the table, and he starts weeping all over again as he hangs them up

(there’s one of her and Bella hugging and looking at the camera with identical grins and joy in their eyes, he can’t help but put that in his room. He hopes one day he’ll get to see a scene like that in person)

He starts trying to get her out of her room a little more- he still hasn’t managed to a get a ‘favorites’ list out of her, so he starts playing movies Bella loved, to see if any of them lure her out. some do, some don’t- he got halfway through a Lord of the Rings marathon, which was Torture in his opinion, but then Ness came out and quietly asked if he could restart it and suddenly they became his favorite movies ever.

Bella’s not able to contact her on a set schedule or anything because of her situation (and you can bet your ass Edward’s contacted every vampire he knows and ordered them to help her out if they come across her or the Volturi), and Edward realizes that’s probably taking a toll on the girl, so he starts telling her stories of her mother when he knew her in Forks. She’s particularly amused by the blood typing incident- the first time Edward hears Nessie properly laugh, he literally starts crying on the spot

could you imagine the sheer panic if she ever gets so much as a cold

And yes, she’s still pissed on Bella’s behalf, and yes, she specifically blasts 70s music because Bella told her he hates it one time, and yes, if he looks at her like he’s a kicked puppy one more time she might claw his eyes out, and yes, she refuses to introduce him to her friends from school because she Knows everyone will then start asking her about her ‘hot brother’ and she can’t live with that and also can’t live with him knowing that so she told him if he ever introduces himself to any of her friends she’ll set him on fire, and yes, she’s homesick 95% of the time but...he’s growing on her. like a mold, or something.

(okay, maybe when Seth tried to analyze why Mamma Mia is her favorite musical, he might have had a point. half a point. quarter of a point. shut up.)

And Edward’s still trying to not have a panic attack every time she’s out of his sight- he’s got Carlisle keeping tabs on the Volturi for him, and it’s not exactly hard for him to keep track of her through other people’s minds- but she’s so tiny and her heartbeat is Too Fast and what if she inherited her mother’s unlucky streak??

but they’re toeing the line of co-existing peacefully and Edward’s scared to push it past that

then he has to, because it turns out he sent her to one of Those Schools where the parents have to be involved in the school in some way or another and Nessie’s Annoyed

sdkjfsdkjf she keeps trying to get him to just sign up for like pta meetings or something and he’s like ‘I need you to understand you are the only person in this town I actually know or like I Cannot survive around fundraiser moms I can’t’ 

so she’s like ugh fine I’m in the drama club

listen.....Stage Parent Edward Cullen.......the power this holds...

that’s right this whole post was an elaborate ruse for me to make a musical theater headcanon again lmao

no okay but seriously he starts off just helping build sets and stuff like that but then midway through the year their music teacher gets fired and the schools like begging him to take over because they can’t find someone in enough time that’ll know the music for the show they’re doing and he’s like “I need you to understand Nessie will never talk to me again if I start actually working at her school” and they’re like “She also will never talk to you again if we have to cancel the big musical, though” and he’s like. fuck.

silent treatment for a week and a half

lmao so now he’s trying to juggle being an overly-enthusiastic stage parent who’s making costumes and sets and kinda crying backstage when he sees his daughter in her costume with also being the music director for the damn show and trying to teach a bunch of kids how to read sheet music 

one day he ended up in a coffee shop with the hair and makeup moms, gossiping about the cast’s love lives, and he literally doesn’t know how he got there

is it wrong to pass Nessie in class even though she’s putting all the wrong answers on the test but he Knows she knows the right answers and is only answering wrong to try and get a rise out of him

Bella sneaks into town to see the show- they thought it would push their luck if the pack came, but they sent an ungodly amount of flowers and candy. When she snuck into the house while Ness was sleeping she Was Not expecting to find Edward up to his elbows in sequins, trying to fix a bedazzler he accidentally broke in frustration, muttering under his breath about how if Nessie’s romantic opposite in the show doesn’t keep his thoughts clean he’s gonna kill him- and it just cracks her up. She WAS nervous about seeing Edward again but now she’s assured he’s still a dork lol

So Edward freaks when he sees her but they don’t wanna wake Ness up so they’re trying to be quiet but like. they’re going through it 

Like Bella Wants to be pissed at him but she can’t, she still loves him- and while she can’t just get over what he did to her, it’s also not lost on her that ‘leaving to protect someone I love’ is literally what she had to do to her daughter

And Edward....Edward, who only left to give Bella a chance at a safe, human life, seeing Bella in front of him as a vampire, knowing it’s his fault she ended up that way and she had to go through it alone, had to raise a baby herself because he’d made it so hard to find him...knowing if he’d just pulled his head out of his ass he would have been able to be there for her...would be able to form a coherent sentence around his love right now, would have long and fond memories of Nessie’s childhood, likely wouldn’t have to watch Bella hide from the Volturi...he’s back in a self-loathing spiral already

But they haven’t seen each other in so long and they just don’t want to...deal with the unpleasantness right now, so they just push it aside. Bella helps Edward with the costumes. Edward fills her in on what she’s been missing with Nessie. Bella tells him some stuff about when Ness was younger. They just spend the night talking, and it feels like no time has past between them at all- which just makes the heartaches a little stronger

When Nessie wakes up to her mother there she’s ecstatic- bubbly and loud and glued to Bella’s hip all day, giving her in depth play-by-plays of her school and rehearsals and friends she’s made, bouncing on her toes all morning, hyper, giggly, and- it kind of breaks Edward’s heart a little, even though he knows he hasn’t really...earned this side of his daughter, yet. 

(at least he got his wish of seeing their twin smiles in person)

(he wishes he could see them every second of every day)

so the girls spend the day catching up while Edward mostly feels like a thirdwheel, and then they have to get Ness over to the school so she can get ready

Bella decides to hang out around the school theater before the show actually starts- she leans against the wall next to the piano, the two talking in hushed tones while Edward runs through songs. Bella really missed watching him play- the only thing that managed to drag her away from it was when Nessie called her to the dressing room to help with a hair emergency 

she didn’t talk to him much at intermission, her attention being stolen by the rest of the Cullen family (who had been Very Loudly supporting the show so far, she knew Ness was probably dying of embarrassment backstage)

after the show, the three went back to Edward’s and just...talked. Nessie was gushing about the show and eating while her parents assured her she was the greatest actress ever born, simple stuff like that. she fell asleep sandwiched in between them on the couch 

Bella realizes she’s never going to be able to bring herself to leave again if Nessie wakes up, and tells Edward as much. He clearly doesn’t want her to go just yet either, but...she’s on the run, it’s not like she has much choice 

He has so much he wants to say to her but he just- can’t. it’s not the right time. but he’s hoping she can see that in his eyes

Bella shifts Nessie off her shoulder so Edward can hold her, and she gives him a light kiss and says ‘thank you, Edward’ before disappearing in a flash. she needed to go before she lost her nerve.

Edward can’t bring himself to let Nessie out of his arms, so instead of carrying her to bed he just stays there, holding her, trying his best not to think that that could be the last time for a long time he’d ever see his Bella again, trying not to let thoughts of a life he gave up unwittingly consume him

okay I didn’t mean for this to be So Long so I’m cutting it here uhh...let me know if anyone wants a part 2? sorry lmao

[wistfulrat]

Good evening! Do you know any good enemies with benefits drarry fics? Thank you

hi anon! Y E S i love the enemies with bennys trope especially when it’s not just pure hate sex but like...reluctant confidant who im gonna engage purely out of spite?? frenemies to lovers if u will. they’re both getting something (sex, verbal sparring partner, emotional punching bag, wound healer) from the other while still having major unresolved feelings of resentment until the inevitable breaking point where they must Adress Things. anyway here’s a short list :)

Harry Potter Gives a Shit by @talithan - 58k, M

“Where are you headed?” “No place special,” Draco fumbled, and flushed further. But then: “I can change that,” said Harry Potter.

a remorseful draco who develops feelings after hooking up with an extremely messy and shitty harry who is dealing with his anger, hurt, abandonment issues, general trauma, etc. in the most selfish and reckless way possible. harry’s truly the Worst in this. his family (ginny, granger, weasleys) are written really well bc they 1) unconditionally love him but 2) are extremely done with his shit. on the other hand, draco will take what he can get bc he wants to be loved, cares a lot about harry, and knows he’s being mistreated but can’t bring himself to leave. they’re angsty fuck buddies for a while until inevitably, harry starts to fall in love with the draco everyone else has already accepted as a friend. u will read this and need to take several naps after but it’s worth it. mostly because it’s refreshing to read a version of harry that isn’t heroic or morally rigid but very sad and says things like “you make me want to let you take care of me” ....p a i n

Kiss The Joy (Until the Sunrise) by @icmezzo - 37k, M

The Room of Requirement was severely damaged in the war, but not so much that it could not provide for one lost student and another young hero—especially when they needed each other most of all.

it’s set immediately after the battle. they both want to hide but they’re met with the one person who will absolutely not let them rest. they hate each other. there’s hexing and shouting and sneering. but their resentment doesn’t stop them from benefiting from the other’s presence. the sentient room somehow provides an escape but also an opportunity for absolution. they talk even though they’ve nothing kind to say at first. they tend each other’s wounds even though they haven’t quite quenched their mutual bloodlust. it’s sleep-deprived, nightmare-haunted, hungry, lonely boys who grow to see that the other has what they need.

Strangeness and Charm by @drarrytrash - 45k, M

One November night during his eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco ends up in the forbidden forest. That’s how it starts.

or: If two boys fall in love in a magical forest, does it still make a sound?

one of my all time favorite fics in general (and feels complementary to Kiss The Joy). it’s the surreality of insomnia, a sentient mysterious forest, a chance to talk about things plainly in the twilight zone where they can pretend they don’t hate each other in real life. it’s an atmospheric dream of a fic that’s asking two very angry boys to suspend their disbelief and consider: what would it be like if you weren’t awful to each other? (also them reading twenty thousand leagues under the sea, a book where jules verne writes about the ocean as if she were sentient, the embodiment of love and emotion?? as the forbidden forest herself orchestrates harry and draco’s love story?? shutUP intertextuality) — anyway i would die for this fic it’s perfect

IDK My BFF Hermione? by @letteredlettered - 19k, E

"Because you're common too, aren't you." Malfoy seemed insistent; it was not a question. "You're just as disgusting and vulgar as I am."

"Yes."

"We were never any different, were we."

"No," Harry said, and kissed him.

—Draco's a hot mess. Harry's lovin' it (hell yes).—

all the war kids were robbed of their childhoods so this is their delayed rebellious phase (bc revolting against the government, although metal af, doesn’t count). ur gonna try and tell harry that he Shouldn’t lust after draco’s eyeliner? hmm good luck bitch. it’s lots and lots of steamy hate sex and general recklessness but also humanizing conversations about the longing to be good, free, desirable, wanted, forgiven, respected, seen but not hypervisible, left alone but not lonely. what begins as “im using u for pleasure bc i was denied this since birth” becomes “u make me feel like im not wrong for wanting things that make me happy” —because why write pure smut when u can write weepy philosophical smut😌

[lit-in-thy-heart]

even in the lap of horrors

for @donttouchtheneednoggle

Rating: Mature

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Category: Multi

Relationships: Elyan/Gwaine/Percival, Elyan & Drea

Characters: Elyan, Gwaine, Percival, Drea, Merlin, Gwen

Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Hurt Gwaine, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Protective Elyan, elyan and gwaine were both fucked up by morgana, percival somehow managed to escape largely unscathed, but he's there for hugs, Food, Starvation, elyan just needs a hug, I mean they all do, but he's missing his partners, Gwapple, nathair trauma, Episode: s05e02 Arthur's Bane, basically the perelyaine reunion the writers robbed us of, Fuck them, the writers not perelyaine, the title is from percy shelley's rather angsty poem alastor or the spirit of solitude, apparently poly ships are the thing that generate a larger word count for my fics, ignore how often i've used 'gentle' 'soft' and 'tender', they're just all careful with each other and you know what that's valid

Words: 10,515

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: With Gwaine and Percival missing for nearly two months, Elyan is nearing the end of his tether. Their reunion is not quite what he had anticipated.

Opening:

At first, Elyan had barely removed his armour. If he’d succumbed to the desire to reach for his partners’ garments, strung up in the wardrobe like skeletons, then he’d be admitting to himself that he didn’t think Gwaine and Percival would be coming back. Because he’d never give them the satisfaction of knowing that he’d missed them with such a public method. Well, he’d never give Gwaine the satisfaction. But, after the fourth Monday of waking up in bed alone, Elyan had drenched himself in their ghosts. In the soft breeze, he’d been able to pretend that the fluttering of Percival’s shirt formed his strong heartbeat. He’d been able to believe that the sleeves of Gwaine’s old jacket were not conserving his own body heat, but transferring the warmth of Gwaine’s touch to Elyan’s skin as spectral hands glided up and down his arms. He’d sought out their breath in the hush of twilight, had fumbled for their fingers in the folds of the bedsheets when he had been half-asleep, had held the weapons they’d left behind to his lips in the hopes that, wherever they were, they would be able to feel his kiss pressing against the muscles that had once contorted the blades Elyan held.

Read on ao3

[nothingenoughao3]

Oh damn I did forget that, didn't I?

Fine, here's the infodump.

Arkham Horror gives you two baseline win conditions.

Gates/portals open throughout all of Arkham, allowing monsters and weirdness to spill into the streets unchecked. You struggle to keep things at a dull roar, killing monsters and closing portals, but eventually, it gets out of hand. One too many gates open, punching too many holes in reality, which starts to collapse. Or too many monsters invade Arkham, causing what the SCP Foundation would call a Broken Masquerade Scenario. Either way, the Ancient One you've been trying to put back to sleep fully wakes up and the Final Battle begins. You defeat the Ancient One... usually at the cost of one or more investigators. (Usually you don't defeat them, btw.) This is a draw in tournaments, but a win by most people's standards.

If there are no open gates anywhere in Arkham, the Ancient One goes back to sleep. There is no Final Battle. This is a win by both tournament and casual standards. It is either extremely difficult to pull off... or embarrassingly easy if you're lucky.

Herbert West was very fucking lucky.

The Ancient One was randomly chosen. It was Cthulhu. I literally wrote "we're boned" into my game log. One thing Cthulhu does is reduce every investigators' maximum Sanity and Stamina by 1. This is not good for anybody, but really, really bad for characters who are deliberately unbalanced.

Guess how I built Herbert?

Yeah. Two entire Stamina. For the entire game.

None of his starting items worked out very well for him. Meg got an Alien Statue, which she could farm for much-needed Clues, and a Shotgun which, frankly, she desperately needed in Re-Animator. Dan had an unfortunately-useless-for-him Naacal Key and a Knife. Francesca had Whiskey (which she also could have used in Bride), a Saber (useless with her powers), and a copy of Dread Curse of Azathoth, which was ALSO useless given her Sanity.

Herbert got two Spells I never used and an Ancient Spear. I urge you to look at the image for this item and understand how easy it is to imagine Herbert West wielding this goddamn weapon.

Herbert also comes with a Corruption card, which reflects his overall creep vibe and makes it harder for him to function in-game because I'm an idiot asshole. He drew Nightmarish Visions. When the card is triggered, he loses 2 Sanity and gains 2 Clues (which symbolize information your investigator needs to close gates or complete tasks).

The Ancient One goes first. Cthulhu opens a gate at the Silver Twilight Lodge. A Child of the Goat dances out of the gate. Now we gotta figure out what to do.

Dan, Meg, and Francesca all try to prepare for a long, difficult, angry slog of a game. Fran's not used to living in Arkham so she moves very slowly and doesn't get anything done the first round. Meg moved from the Police Station, where she'd been trying to report Herbert for crimes involving corpses, to the Merchant District, looking for evidence. Meg gets stuck hypnotized by an ancient manuscript and loses her next turn (but gains two Clues). She also uses her Alien Statue to lose 2 Sanity and gain 2 more clues. She's already learning more than any other investigator.

Dan goes from the hospital where he works to the Woods, because he's normal and goes wherever Herbert wants him to. A gang who operate out of the Woods try to beat and rob him. He escapes, but loses his binder of notes with all the info Herbert entrusted to him along the way (he had to spend all his Clues to improve his success rolls).

Now it's Herbert's turn and having already lost a Stamina and Sanity, it made me even more reckless. I'm pissed that we got Cthulhu. I justify my actions by saying Herbert's really goddamn reckless a lot of the time in the films.

So, Herbert, despite feeling very weak, sees that gate open across town and runs directly for it.

Child of the Goat? No problem. Herbert has always wanted the chance to kill a woman. He loses a Horror check, costing him 2 more Sanity (I guess because he saw a mostly-naked woman), but wins his Combat check. So literally what happened was Herbert West saw her, screamed in horror, lost some more hair, skewered her with a spear, and then hopped into a giant glowing green circle next to a massive cult hideout.

Herbert ends up in the City of the Great Race, which is not, shockingly, named that because Lovecraft's a huge racist.

Next round, I expect it to get worse. Cthulhu's turn is up. Another gate will fuck us royally. It'll spin out of control.

I flip over the next card. It's a Rumor card.

These are normally very bad. But this one is the luckiest fucking strikes we could hope for.

One: it doesn't open a gate.

Two: you have to spend $10 to soothe everyone's worry and dispel the Rumor.

Three: We have two investigators who have $10. Meg can't move... but Francesca can.

Oh, bad part: Herbert was struck with Nightmarish Visions. Minus two Sanity. He's down to 2 Sanity and 2 Stamina.

Meg's stuck with her manuscript. Francesca hears this nonsense about monsters and uses her cash to somehow validate that there are in fact no monsters in Arkham. Dan, meanwhile, limps out of the Woods and heads to the nearby Magic Shoppe for supplies, but he's a couple dollars short of being able to buy the mysterious trunk he wanted to get that would replace Herbert's missing notes. Herbert's gonna be salty as fuck.

Off to the City of the Great Race. Normally, you get two separate turns in Other Worlds. You only get that sped up if you have specific items, or if you get really lucky with the draw.

I draw a card that allows me to escape my captors and immediately return to Arkham. I stare at the card. I mutter to @andalusiapunk "... I think we might win this."

"Do it! Do it!" they say.

So Herbert escapes, losing all his notes/Clues along the way. I guess he can't be that mad at Dan, but he will be anyhow.

Herbert West stumbles back through the gate and into Arkham, bleeding, weak, and probably tittering uncontrollably with his whole entire TWO SANITY OUT OF SIX. And now he's gotta close the gate.

Lucky for us, one thing Herbert does have is high Lore, which I maxed out. He gets five tries at closing the gate. He succeeds.

No monsters. No gates. Cthulhu goes night-night.

A game that normally takes two to four hours ended in about twenty minutes.

My gob is still smacked.

Hello, I have been away for four days because I've been using a 15-year-old computer program (Strange Eons) to build an entire gameset for a 19-year-old board game (Arkham Horror 2e) utilizing characters from a 36-year-old movie and its sequel (Re-Animator and Bride), all things that are perfectly normal.

Okay, that's not all I did.

I also playtested them with my partner-in-crime and found that Herbert West stopped Cthulhu from waking up while losing almost all his Sanity in the process.

I'm putting this in the "just got lucky, needs more playtesting" category rather than the "I massively OPed this character" category but it makes a really funny paragraph.

These are their markers. The white space at the top is there because Arkham Horror markers are shaped like gravestones. Cheerful!

[ssvgawara]

Haikyuu boys and some oddly specific crime they’d commit

a/n: I come back and the first thing I write is a shitpost!! enjoy </3 tw for drugs, murder, alcohol and general crime committing xoxo

Karasuno

Daichi- he’s a cop sorry that’s all there is to it man

Suga- Suga has multiple charges of 1st-degree murder against him but they can’t seem to find his identity so he continues committing murder and will continue until he gets caught or ends up murdering enough people to be put in a position of power

Asahi- everyone is probably like “Oh Asahi is innocent” NO. He has learned that his slightly scary face will let him get away with a lot, he is buying alcohol illegally because he looks old enough to, and he’s buying so much other shit and just getting away with it

Nishinoya- This man gives fucking pimp vibes I can just see him in the big leopard print fur coat with a pretty girl in his lap and he calls himself big poppa but no one else will

Tanaka- Drug dealer vibes, probably runs an entire fucking drug ring with his sister and not just a Lil weed these mfkas have the hard shit too like you could probably buy meth from them, he’s not using it but it’s good business

Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita- They literally rob a bank they have an entire scheme and get away with multiple bank robberies and this goes on for MONTHS

Kageyama- We know he’s volleyball smart but otherwise he’s so mfing stupid and I love him for it but he is a chronic shoplifter. Just picks something up and takes it, has walked out of a store without paying for an entire bed set once and got away with it somehow so idk props to him

Hinata- He is the little guy in any heist situation, he fits anywhere so he can sneak in and out the best, he gave himself the stupid ass code name tiny giant but everyone goes with it because somehow he is the best

Tsukishima- armed robbery, but he doesn’t have a gun just a knife like he’s tall and as an attitude, a knife will get him whatever he needs he doesn’t need the gun

Yamaguchi- He runs a catfishing scheme where he pretends to be a naive girl, scams old men out of their money, and then ghosts them and I think it’s what he deserves let him carry on especially because no one would believe it’s him. Also not really like a crime crime but still a crime in a way

Kiyoko- She kills men and I know it, Queen Kiyoko ending the patriarchy one shitty man at a time like she only kills men who deserve it bc some have rights.

Yachi- She’s too anxious to commit an in-person crime so she does a lot of cybercrime, hacking government databases and releasing info to the people, truly the anonymous we deserve

Saeko- She’s running that drug ring with Tanaka, and she loves it because there’s a thrill to it even though yknow she’s dealing literal meth but like its fine plus she loves rocking people’s shit when they get too handsy, which bring me to my next point underground MMA Saeko, like the illegal one with no rules yeah <3

Ukai- this man probably sells all kinda shit to minors that he shouldn’t he is so unbothered a 7-year-old could probably walk in ask for a pack of camels and get them and leave before he noticed what was going on.

Takeda- Did y’all see how scared Hinata was when Takeda gave him that lecture? This dude could kidnap someone and scare them into giving all the information he needed, a legend truly

Aoba Johsai

Oikawa- took steroids one time. And of course in sports, that’s not allowed. But he only did it once and regretted it for months afterward. Never told anyone and was just relieved he didn’t have to piss in a cup and have someone find out.

Matsukawa- Without hesitation, I know this man takes dead people’s bones and sells them on the internet. Has dubbed himself the bone man and he feels so much power when someone buys a femur or sumn. It’s kinda funny honestly he has a hoard of bones to sell, his fave is the pelvis.

Hanamaki- He’s in between jobs because he stole money from his last job, like he said he was sorry he just needed a little extra for gas but was sad to find out that’s a literal crime and he was laundering money.

Iwaizumi- he’s a street racer, like the fast and furious style and it’s so sexy of him like late-night races ugh to be in an expensive fast car with him where he has one hand on my thigh okay that’s enough of that.

Kunimi- Look me in the eye and tell me he does not do drugs. He does and if you don’t believe me you are wrong and I will fight you on this one. 

Kyotani- If there is a crime he will commit it for fun. Like he will do it with no hesitation. He has a record longer than twilight and I’m not sure how he is not in prison actually nvm he escaped and is  a wanted criminal lol

Shiritorizawa

Ushijima- Assault, he just reeks of getting into bar fights when he’s absolutely wasted. Like he most likely didn’t start it but he will be finishing it

Tendou- grave robbing, he just goes into the cemetery picked the oldest plots, and gets to digging. Has made thousands on dead people jewelry and probably won’t get caught, like besides the groundskeeper there’s no security he will never stop.

Semi- he breaks copyright laws on the daily. He’s sampling music in his all the time but he’s doing it so sneakily it’s fine its what deserves stream his band on Spotify right now,

Shirabu- His bangs are criminal enough. No, but he has stolen drugs from the hospital before he just wanted to try the Xanax, and yeah he could just write himself a prescription for it nut like it’s so easy to just go get some and no report it so that’s what he did.

Goshiki- y’all want me to say arson don’t you?? Fine. He commits arson multiple times and kills 7 people with fire before getting arrested and he doesn’t even feel bad so in prison he probably fucking runs a gang he is crazy.

Nekoma

Kuroo- he is a capitalist and class traitor and that’s crime enough I don’t care is he’s attractive or rich, He commits crimes daily by just existing but I still love him anyway.

Kai- Could not commit a crime he just wants to garden and live his life. Jk there’s at minimum one body in that garden let him kill a man he deserves it just let him have one dead body

Yaku- he keyed someone’s car once just because they pissed him off. Was it kuroo? Yes. But that’s fine because he also keyed Lev’s car but blamed lev for keying kuroo’s and Kuroo for keying Lev’s. He just wants to watch the world burn.

Kenma- cyberbullying but man he is mean. Like no bars held we will dig into every insecurity he can and that shit hurts and he doesn’t even feel bad about it he will just be as mean as he can if you’re not careful

Lev- his crime is being tall and dumb also doesn’t understand the economy and prints counterfeit money because why can’t we print more money? The government should get on that.

Inuoka- He released all the animals from a zoo, like snuck in one night and just let them all free, I’m surprised the tiger didn’t eat him but hey the animals are free, there’s still some missing uh oh he’s very proud of himself for it. After the rush, he starts sneaking into shelters and freeing all the dogs and cats

Yamamoto and Fukunaga- Have egged a house before, it was Kuroo’s he deserves all this bullying and you can’t stop me.

Date Tech

Aone- Criminal Conspiracy, sure he had an entire foolproof plan to get away with the perfect crime but someone found out, and now his plans are ruined, damn </3 and no one ever suspects the quiet guy either.

Futakuchi- Having a prostitute, he just wanted some company like mans is lonely so he paid a girl to just spend a Lil time with him it’s all good.

Fukurodani

Bokuto- I know we all haha funny laugh at tax evader bokuto and sure maybe he evades his taxes but he’s also committed vehicular manslaughter, he cannot drive and has killed someone with his car maybe even multiple someones but he always drives off in a panic because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Akaashi- Hasn’t actively committed a crime but has been an accomplice in every vehicular manslaughter Bokuto has committed why the fuck does he keep letting bokuto drive? He really needs to stop that.

Konoha- A master scammer he is so convincing everyone gives him money even if they’re a little sus because he’s just that good each scheme is so convincing.

Inarizaki

Kita- He grows weed, you can’t tell me those rice fields are just for rice he’s got all this space he is growing marijuana and selling it, let him do it I want him to be my plug.

Atsumu- "What is my perfect crime? I break into Tiffany's at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No, I go for the chandelier. It's priceless. As I'm taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It's her father's business. She's Tiffany. I say no. We make love all night. In the morning, the cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico, but I go to Canada. I don't trust her. Besides, I like the cold. Thirty years later, I get a postcard. I have a son and he's the chief of police. This is where the story gets interesting. I tell Tiffany to meet me in Paris by the Trocadero. She's been waiting for me all these years. She's never taken another lover. I don't care. I don't show up. I go to Berlin. That's where I stashed the chandelier."

Osamu- resisting arrest. He just said no and ran. Granted he shouldn’t have punched the cop in the first place to have to be arrested but like that’s not the point here.

Aran- accidental child abandonment, like he just forgot he was babysitting and left the kid alone for like a day. He felt terrible but he still forgot the kid and now is fearful of parenthood

Suna- owns an illegal weapon, like he just never registered it and keeps it around and would use it if needed Suna please just point the weapon at me maybe

Others

Terushima- Graffiti, he loves painting on the walls of buildings and tagging them, has so much spraypaint and his day isn’t complete if he doesn’t tag at least one building or train car.

Daishou- Public intoxication- he got a little too fucked up and stripped on the street he will forever have to live with everyone knowing he has an ass tattoo like damn bruh

Sakusa- Perjury he simply wanted to get out of court so he said some shit so he could leave granted he lied under oath but whatever, did they ever find out? No, so he’s fine and he’d do it again if it meant he could leave faster. Like sure he was a witness to a murder but bruh he pretends he does not see.

Hoshihumi- driving without a license he simply thought you didn’t need one because why do you need a piece of plastic to say you can drive a car like??? Just know how to drive it.

[whiteravenn]

I just finished Midnight Sun, and these are my notes.

Only semi organized. Esme’s joy at Alice’s vision that Bella and Edward will fall in love made me emotional. Esme really is so pure. Her conversation with Edward when he first played the lullaby, telling him it will work out. This is fitting, since “My dearest Bella,” from New Moon is one of my favorite moments in the entire series. The allusion to a midnight sun is in itself beautiful, but how Edward describes it in the moment is beautiful too. Jasper feeling Alice’s love for him when they met. I mean, what else is there to say? Wonderful. There’s so much more we see of Bella in this book, obviously because it isn’t from her perspective. The more in depth descriptions of her conversations with Edward really helped me understand more of her personality. Her describing Phoenix and Renee in particular. Alice helping Jasper cheat at chess. The Swan house has a BRICK DRIVEWAY? It’s obvious how giddy Alice is to meet Bella and it’s wonderful. I wonder how much she consciously set in motion, as well as unconsciously (collared shirt). I loved the Alice/Edward hunting trip. At some point, Alice mentions that a 75/25 chance is one she took, which must have been First Sight when she skips class and Emmett doesn’t follow her. Edward mentions that there’s a specific smile Bella has that is reserved for other people’s pain, and it helped me see her more clearly in general, but also her compassion. How does Bella know she’s an exception to Edward’s mind reading? I don’t know how I’ve missed this, because I’ve read the series multiple times, but every time I get to the car ride back from Port Angeles and she asks, I can’t remember where she learned it. Also, no, Edward can’t call you, Bella, because you haven’t given him your phone number. Rob Sawyer flinching at Edward’s wide smile when hearing Bella direct Mike towards Jessica. Hybrid Theory is a great album. Cheese pizza IS superior. If Edward had stayed away from Forks after leaving initially, he would have eventually HUNTED Bella. Alice: “I love you. You can do this.” Best sister ever. Bella sees Edward circle the meadow once, but he actually circles it twice. Alice embracing Edward upon meeting him. Bella’s tear inside Edward forever. Edward’s multi-day aquatic adventure? Meyer likes the word facade. It’s all over Twilight and Midnight Sun. I appreciate the new Rosalie content. Extended baseball scene? Great. The new look into Jasper’s power is interesting. That he can make others so excessively disinterested that it’s actually a strategy. Also, I noticed that he pulls this power away from Edward in the meadow as James focuses on him, but keeps himself covered, and uncovers himself once he enters the ballet studio, demoralizing James, using that power in an offensive way. Also, his influence during the car chase. Edward’s real hate towards Bella’s truck. “We can’t all fit in my truck,” … “As if we were going to make our escape in that GERIATRIC SLOTH” “But keep your opinions to yourself.” I’ve always wondered what Alice was thinking when Edward made that comment, and now we know. She wanted to change Bella sooner rather than later, to deter James as well as include her in the family sooner, while keeping her safe in that way. Alice pushing the Jeep in neutral and starting it away from Charlie’s house is why the lights suddenly come on. I never questioned that moment too closely, but could you imagine the alternative? “Oops, my vampire eyesight is so perfect I didn’t realize I never turned my lights on.” Big brother Emmett feelings. That car switch in Phoenix, though. I’ll just continue looking for my jaw on the floor. How could Jasper handle excessive amounts Bella’s blood in the ballet studio but not a paper cut? The only thing I can think of is he knew what he was walking into in Phoenix and wasn’t caught off guard. Really paints a picture about how precarious a vampire’s control can be. Alice having fun fabricating evidence. Not having time to infiltrate security strongholds and erase security footage. Maybe another time. The bottle cap.

[everybodyscupoftea]

hi !! 💘💘 so i’m not rlly sure how to word this but like the reader and cody or tyler get into an argument (not like a big one but kinda) so jj has to mediate and take sides

hi!! 

i made it not that serious, hope that’s chill w you :)

-

your plans to go to the baseball game and drink fell through when it got rain delayed, so cody, tyler, jj, and you decided to go back to your apartment to watch movies and drink instead. 

immediately you were reminded why the four of you never did sporadic movie nights because the four of you could rarely agree on something to watch without a significant amount of planning and compromise. 

taking a long swig of white claw, you interrupted the argument, “hey, assholes, we’re watching twilight.”

only cody seemed fine with it, and tyler and jj protested heavily until you silenced them with your glare. cody shrugged, “if you guys can’t decide, someone else is going to do it for you.”

you reached out and let cody bump your fist with his. tyler sighed dramatically and leaned into you, “please don’t make me watch.”

“suck it up, this was a cultural reset,” you scolded, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. he pouted and you hit play, settling in with your alcohol.

-

they got really into it and by the end of the third movie, the pile of alcohol cans on the floor had grown immensely, and tyler and cody had Opinions. you were content to sit back until tyler said, “anyone who’s team edward is a fucking dumbass.”

“woah,” you cut in, “pack it up, belle.”

cody snorted and tyler furrowed his eyebrows, “the fuck?”

“you’re team jacob?” you asked.

“obviously,” tyler scoffed.

“couldn’t be me wanting to live out beauty and the beast,” you told him, holding your hands up in defense.

“nah dude, you’re just wanting to fuck dead people.”

“first of all, literally what has jacob done besides sulk about not winning the girl?”

tyler shrugged, “he’s hot.”

“so is rob pat,” you argued.

“he’s creepy,” tyler insisted, crossing his arms.

“you didn’t read the books. plus, just wait till the end.”

“we’re not talking about the books.”

“we never actually clarified, i can pull whatever argument i want.”

“that’s not how this works, plus the books are dumb so they don’t count.”

you scoffed, “hold on, you’ve never read them and i’ve officially decided, you’re not qualified to speak on this topic, thanks.”

tyler opened his mouth and jj put a hand over it, “okay, we’re going to cool it and do something else.”

“we could play spin the bottle,” cody suggested.

“NO!” tyler yelled, finally escaping jj’s grasp.

“why not?” cody whined.

“because the odds of me having to kiss jj are high and nothing in this world could make me want to kiss jj.”

“what if he was playing jacob in twilight,” you snapped back.

“i will fight you,” tyler warned, sticking a finger in your face.

“square up, bitch.”

jj stood up and yanked tyler away, sitting between the two of you, “i’m not letting twilight tear this family apart.”

cody dramatically sniffled, “a modern day hero.”

you were still annoyed but you couldn’t help smiling at him. tension broken a little, you were able to hit play again to finish the series instead of having to find something else to do.

by the end tyler had changed his mind, “i don’t know man, something doesn’t sit right with me about the whole i’m no longer in love with you, but with your daughter. there’s some weird projection going on there.”

“fucking told you,” you gloated.

[helioark]

A Guide to the Amber Woods 

This blog, its writings, and its characters are all copyright to the author of this blog. All opinions and ideas expressed within are not guaranteed to be factual and are the product of the blog owner’s research and creativity. Trust not the Fae. 

… 

Where Am I?

Welcome to the Amber Woods. Currently located in the midst of the verdant depths of the Willamette Valley, the Amber Woods are the haunting grounds of an ancient, secretive Archfaerie, fallen from grace and on the run from his past.  He answers to The Warden (or Cecil, if you’re on good terms) and he lives in a strange-looking cabin by the river, selling trinkets made of amber and glass for unusual forms of payment. The sun is red in the sky, and the shadows of the trees are long against the ferns. It’s hard to concentrate with the sound of the river so loud in your ears, which is odd, because you’re nowhere near it. You keep walking, because you came here for a reason.

What was it again?

Who’s Who?

The Author

Hi! My name is James, I’m the (very human) author of this blog. I hail from the misty locales of Oregon, where the rain is our sunshine and you end up in the town center of TIllamook no matter how many times you think you’ve left it. I’m a self-diagnosed mythology nerd and a semi-consistent creative writer with a love for horror and fantasy. I run this blog to practice my writing, interact with people who enjoy the topics I write about, and to give myself an outlet to express my love for the weird shit I find on the internet. Most posts that are not focused on faerie mythology, eldritch/occult stuff, or similar are the things that I post. Almost all of that content can be found under the hashtag [# not the warden], or if I’m lazy, no hashtag at all. If you want to ask me about my research, creative story lines, or just tell me about your day, my inbox is always open! 

The Warden 

The Warden is the character I run this blog as. He is my original creation, though he is heavily inspired by several Celtic, Irish, and British folkloric legends. In the Amber Woods canon, the Warden and I are separate people that exist at the same time. Almost all of the content that The Warden deals with is tagged [# the warden speaks]. 

The Warden will answer asks about the Fae, his past, or the occult, and does business through the inbox. It is not necessary to do business in order to ask a question, and asking a question does not require payment. If you wish to buy amber from the Warden, he will expect you to give him something valuable in return. The Warden will make a post with the hashtag [ # restocking] to announce that the inbox is open for amber selling, and a post with the hashtag [ # out of stock] to indicate that it is closed. As with all transactions with the Fae, mind your manners and your words. The Warden is kind but will not hesitate to rob you. General offerings are also appreciated, and will be used to make lunch. As with all faeries, follow the rules. Additionally, never mention crows.

If you would like to hear it, below is part of The Warden’s story. Also found below is the tag directory and some necessary disclaimers. I hope you enjoy your visit to the Amber Woods! If you don’t, well, that’s hardly our fault, is it? 

. . . 

The Warden is an ex-Archfaerie of the High Court of Summer, where he ruled at the right hand of the Midsummer Queen herself and was responsible for defending the Courts of Summer against defamation and attack. He hails from one of the first generations of the Aos Sí, born on the edges of the last great war between the Fomorians and the Tuatha Dé Danann, rescued from near certain death by Ghillie Dhu and given to his sister for safekeeping. He is the eighth child of the Last Great King, younger sibling to the seventh daughter, the powerful sídhe who would eventually come to rule the Summer Courts.

 He ruled as commander of the armies of midsummer and guardian of the great emerald woods of the hills for nigh on six thousand years, becoming known to many humans as The Green Knight. The story of his downfall is not mine to tell, but after committing a great act of treason against the Queen, he fled the Summer Court and wandered the edges of the feywilds for another three thousand years, acquiring enemies and friends alike, hiding his face, never speaking his own name. Some say that the legend of Crom Dubh stems from this period, but the Warden denies this. 

After some time, The Warden wandered a little too close to the edges of the world and discovered the truth of his past, hidden from him by his sister. He chased these threads of history into the twilight hell of the Gloaming Courts, and he currently refuses to tell anyone anything else about what happened then besides the fact that he stole an artifact of great power and barely escaped with his life. Using this artifact, the Amber Woods were created, and the Warden finds himself now haunting the forests of the Pacific Northwest, exchanging the bereft dreams and wishes of humans for amber. He hides from the Queen of Midsummer yet, but he swears that someday, he will reclaim his inheritance. How, I do not know.

… 

How to Navigate the Woods

Taglist: 

[ # the warden speaks]: Denotes a post that the warden has reblogged or added onto. 

[ # not the warden / # the author speaks]: Denotes a post that I have reblogged or added onto out of character.

[ # machinations of the fae]: Denotes a post that describes an action, creation, or person belonging to faerie lore that isn’t about the warden.  

[ # abominations of the fae]: Denotes a post about non-faerie cryptids, beasts, or other affronts to sensibility. 

[ # teaching the mortals how to speak with faeries]: Denotes a post where someone breaks a rule of faerie etiquette in the ask box. 

[ # under hill / # under hill and stone]: Denotes a post about the feywilds or faerie geography, usually. 

[ # four courts under hill]: Denotes a post about the seasonal faerie courts. 

[ # tales of the tuath de]: Denotes a post about or concerning Celtic, Irish, or Gaelic mythology.

[ # the unspoken rules of the amber woods / the unspoken rules]: Denotes a post that is part of the Unspoken Rules series, either about the Amber Woods or a mundane place 

[ # amber sales]: Denotes a post about the selling of amber through the ask box.

[ # restocking]: Denotes a post about opening the inbox for amber sales.

[ # out of stock]: Denotes a post about closing the inbox for amber sales.

[ # fear not! / # be not afraid]: Denotes a post about angels.

[ # nicene lore]: Denotes a post about specifically Christian or Catholic lore.

[ # eldritch thread]: Denotes a post that interacts with several other eldritch or occult blogs. 

[ # sigilcraft]: Denotes a post about the Author’s sigilwork.

[ # ____ cw]: Any content warnings will follow this format: (thing i’m content warning) cw. If you would like me to content warn a specific thing, message me.

[ # blogname]: Denotes a post specifically interacting with a blog. 

[ # f scott fitzgerald’s reanimated corpse]: Denotes a post about F. Scott Fitzgerald’s reanimated corpse.

[ # hillkeeping]: Tagged onto any post that details changes made to the blog, its workings, and/or its lore. 

I will add more as necessary. 

… 

Hillkeeping

This blog sometimes interacts with @thetatteredveil and @normal-horoscopes. It was inspired by both of these blogs and does not claim any canonicity within said blogs. Both blogs exist within the Amber Woods canon; none of their content is considered my intellectual property.  

If you would like to create a blog or character within the Amber Woods canon, message me! I would love to work with other creators and writers. 

As stated above, all information and creative licence posted within this blog cannot be considered consistently factual. I have done surface-level research on the common Gaelic, Irish, and Scottish folklore and mythology that forms the basis of my characters and stories. Check your facts and consult with experts, of which I do not consider myself one. 

Finally, friends, be kind to each other and the world you live in. You have no idea what listens to you when you think you are alone.

[kattahj]

Review quotes of Booboo Stewart’s performance in Let Him Go

Okay, yeah, so I totally checked over 100 reviews of Let Him Go just to see what they had to say about Booboo Stewart. Relevant quotes under the cut, but let’s just summarize first:

Apparently the film starts out as a slow drama and ends up as a bloody revenge flick, which means that there are some reviewers who go “it takes forever to get started, but once it does it’s great!” and other reviewers who go “it started out really nice, but wtf was that ending?”

Likewise, Booboo has a small role, and there are some reviewers who go “what was even the point of that character?” and others who go “I wanted the whole movie to be about that character!” Also plenty who don’t mention him at all.

The important bit: while I have seen some criticism of the writing of his character, I have not seen a single reviewer criticize his acting. Everyone who mentions his acting is praising it.

And here are the quotes (spoilers!):

"For the stunner of the film, Booboo Stewart plays Peter" (Military Press)

"The supporting cast is strong, with impressive performances from Booboo Stewart [...]  " (We Live Entertainment)

"The supporting cast presents a solid ensemble, most notably Booboo Stewart of Twilight and X-Men who plays the only ally of the Blackledge’s, the tragic and heroic Peter Dragswolf." (Republic Times)

"But it’s lesser-known actors like Kayli Carter and Booboo Stewart who really shine, making the most of smaller, quieter roles." (AZ Central)

"Booboo Stewart (from Walt Disney’s Descendants films) offers a rich turn as a young ingenious [sic!] man who ran away from a brutal “Indian School” and to whom Lane’s mourning mother implicitly looks at as a second chance."   (Forbes)

"With strong supporting roles from the likes of Booboo Stewart [...]  " (KGun9)

"We also get some strong supporting work from Booboo Stewart as a Native American loner who befriends Margaret and George." (Flickreel)

"The list of great performances in Let Him Go only grows once Margaret and George hit the road, including a nice turn from Booboo Stewart as a skittish residential school runaway who reluctantly helps the couple on their journey. " (The Gate)

"Booboo Stewart, in a sensitive and winning performance" (Chicago Sun Times)

"The Blackledges are never fleshed out beyond what they represent, but there’s another character worth caring about — a young Native American runaway (Booboo Stewart) called Peter by the people who stole him away to the Indian Residential School from which he’s just escaped. Stripped of his name, forced to forget his language, and alone in a country taken from his people, “Peter” is a poignant emblem of what people like George and Margaret are only learning in their twilight years: America has always been a country that takes without asking, and we’d sooner burn it to the ground than stop living all over each other. It’s only with Peter’s help that “Let Him Go” is able to find something worth saving in the ashes." (Indiewire)

"Booboo Stewart brings real emotion and empathy to a handful of scenes as a fugitive indigenous man who ran away from a brutal “Indian school” and provides some backup for Margaret and George." (The Wrap)

" Booboo Stewart (the Twilight saga) as a horse riding loner the couple encounter along the way is terrific, serving in a key capacity late in the film." (Deadline)

" A Native American drifter (Booboo Stewart) who befriends them and briefly recounts his traumatizing experience at a culture-crushing boarding school offers a wistful glimpse at the kind of character-driven storyline that the film deserts halfway down the road." (Slant - which hated the rest of the film)

"With powerful supporting characters such as Booboo Stewart[...]" (Eminetra)

"And then along the way the story does introduce us to some characters that have stories of their own that unfortunately aren't explored as much, and one of those characters was probably one of the more interesting parts of the story for me. It's a character played by actor Booboo Stewart, and he's really good! I don't know, there's not another word I can say without spoiling anything, but he's very, I don't know, you can tell he's carrying a lot of his past with him, and I wanted the story to almost explore more of his character, rather than anyone else's. Unfortunately, that's not the case." (Reel James - youtube video)

And the cast is rounded out with a new generation of promising performers in Brittain, the excellent Carter, and Booboo Stewart as Peter, a young Native American man who the Blackledges encounter. His personal story of being taken as a child to an abusive “Indian school” is part history lesson, part a look into Jimmy’s potential future should he stay with the sadistic Weboys. (LA Times) 

"The only time Let Him Go really comes to life is when it puts the main story aside so Margaret and George can spend time with Peter Dragswolf (Booboo Stewart), a young Indigenous horseman they meet on their journey—and who, because this is really just a pulp Western, becomes an invaluable ally in the back half of the story.

(cont.) "Bezucha treats Peter as a source of exposition and white-knighting—a chance for us to understand that George and Margaret are more evolved than the other white folk Peter has encountered in his life—but Lane and Costner don’t condescend to the material the way their director does, and they bring out a wounded, cautious quality in Stewart he doesn’t often get to show.

(cont.) "I don’t think I’ll spend much more time thinking about Let Him Go, which is ultimately just a junky revenge movie that wastes a lot of very talented actors’ time and will probably also waste yours if you let it, but I expect that from time to time I’ll think about Stewart and Lane and Costner, just sitting out in the badlands together talking about horses, and wish someone had made a whole movie about that." (Straight)

Bezucha seems compelled to accentuate more compassionate moments, such as the Blackledges’ fairly contrived but still welcome relationship with a young Native American man played by Booboo Stewart. Best known for playing Seth Clearwater in The Twilight Saga, Stewart shows nice depth here as a peaceful drifter who helps George and Margaret pull off a hard-fought family reunion. (Collider)

They also meet others along the way, including Peter (a nice turn from Booboo Stewart) (Blu-ray.com)

Among the latter: an incongruously placed but engaging young Lakota man named Peter (Booboo Stewart) (Original cin)

I definitely want to give props to Booboo Stewart, who played Peter. If I'm being honest, I would have loved to have seen a movie just based on his upbringing. I thought that that young man, Booboo Stewart as Peter in this film, kind of this outcast in a sense, hearing his story was so tragic, and again, I would have loved to dug deeper into that, but man, this guy did a really good job in the little bit of scenes that we spent with him, and the scenes that he shared with Diane Lane I thought had a lot of emotional impact, and I thought he did a really good job in this movie as well. (Movie Files - youtube video)

Booboo Stewart does a solid enough job at offering a sympathetic new take on typically well-worn character tropes. (comingsoon.net)

In the supporting cast, Carter is fine, but Stewart invests greater poignancy into Peter, a young man robbed of his birthright but retaining the nobility it confers on him. (One Guy's Opinion)

Booboo Stewart also has a nice role as a local Native American escapee of a residential school, who helps the older couple in their quest, but has enough agency to know the two are pushing things way too far with the Weboy clan. (Joblo)

 I do have to call special attention to the amazing Booboo Stewart who plays a Native American lad who helps the couple, this being his second great role/performance of the year after The Grizzlies. (The weekend warrior blog)

Booboo Stewart of “Twilight” fame has a small part but elevates a handful of scenes as an ousted Native American looking for purpose. (Galveston Daily News)

Another standout is the very quiet Booboo Stewart, who plays Peter. He's a self-sufficient loner who is really kind, despite all the terrible crap that has happened to him. (Movies and Munchies - youtube video)

Plus, there is an actor by the name of Booboo Stewart, and he plays an American Indian in the film, Peter, who befriends the couple, and he is just outstanding in this film. I really enjoyed his performance. (Jackie K Cooper - youtube video)

And the supporting work from Donovan, Stewart, and Carter are all equally excellent. (CJ at the movies)

Another character worth mentioning was Booboo Stewart as Peter Dragswolf. He didn’t have a ton of screen time but the scenes he was in were filled with so much emotion. My heart went out to his character. (Funtastic life)

 [...]Even so with Booboo Stewart's character, they're great on screen, I don't have any qualms to their performances, but because you do... especially with Booboo's character, I got really invested in his story, but there's nothing else that's really done to, like, explore his character, almost to the point where his character wasn't needed. I wanted to actually see more of that character. (Pay or Wait - youtube video) 

1: I did also want to mention Booboo Stewart [...] as this young Native American they encounter who has run away from what they used to call Indian schools, where they basically, like, force you to learn English, and you know, it's the same kind of anti-Indigenous stuff that the British used to do in Australia, and we have our own sad, awful history of that in the United States, and so, his character I think is there obviously as a plot function, but I think he brings a real humanity to the role.

2: I was going to say, I wish there was more to him, though, because he does feel like an idea, like a device, and he does very conveniently show up when he is needed to, to help make things happen, and that feels a little contrived and I wish there was more to him.

1: But not the actor's fault!

2: No no no, it's in the script! (Breakfast All Day)

Booboo Stewart of “Twilight” fame has a small part but elevates a handful of scenes as an ousted Native American looking for purpose. (The Daily News)

A side-story involving an Indigenous man, Peter Dragswolf (Booboo Stewart), is as poignant and, in certain ways, historically urgent as it is extraneous to the main thrust of the story.  (Rolling Stone)

    The hardest thing for me to deal with was that it had some slow moments that I didn’t think needed to be there.  But on the other side of that, if they weren’t there, we wouldn’t have seen the nice performance of Booboo Stewart, who ends up becoming an important fixture.  (Power 98.3)

Another underused character with a strong part is Booboo Stewart as Peter - he has some of the best lines in just three scenes.  (Oakville News)

   While their roles were smaller, both Carter and Stewart left strong impressions as Lorna and Peter, each wounded and abused in their own way. (Rick's Texan Reviews)

   Booboo Stewart is even more heartbreaking as a young man who ran away from an Indian boarding school and runs into our questing couple. While I’m not sure what his larger purpose is in the movie, he brings a healthy dose of warmth and heart every second he’s onscreen.  (Vail Daily)

 One of my favorite characters was Peter Drags wolf (Stewart) a young Native American man living out on his own. (Portsmouth Daily Times)

Delivering a poignant counterpoint to the high stakes is Booboo Stewart (the Twilight series) who plays a young Native American nomad on the plains who forges a connection with the Blackledges. (I can't unsee that movie) 

A revenge thriller that leaves no easy answers “Let Him Go” stars Kevin Costner and Diane Lane with some meaty supporting performances by Lesley Manville as a powerful matriarch and Booboo Stewart who helps navigate the Dakota landscape. (testset) 

Even cast members in smaller roles, like that of cast-out Peter Dragswolf (Booboo Stewart), are solid and make an impression. (Gallup sun) 

Other good performances include Carter, who holds the viewer’s sympathies for the entire film as a victim of domestic abuse, and Booboo Stewart, who delivers a powerful performance as Peter Dragswolf, a Native American who helps the Blackledges on their quest. (Northern star) 

[...] and Booboo Stewart are also well-cast in their respective supporting roles. (Seongyong's private place)   

[heckyeahitsnick]

Her Soul is Like Magnolia

Written By: @heckyeahitsnick​

Pairing: Harry Styles/OC

Word Count: 20,979

Warnings: Some explicit/foul language

Summary: 

Magnolia “Mags” Rahman believes in hard science, has a tendency to stick her foot in her mouth, and is a lover of all things horror and Halloween. Harry Styles likes to toe the line between fact and fiction, strangers and friends, and normal and paranormal.  

Harry Styles has a ghost problem.

Mags has a Harry Styles problem.

An au where seeing is believing and everyone is trying their best to treat each other with kindness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 1: October 24th, a week from Halloween

“You’re stepping on my foot.”

Mags broke herself out of her stupor, visibly shaking her head. She stared at the person the voice belonged to, trying to orient herself and gather her bearings, and saw that it was her coworker, Liam. “Oh,” she murmured apologetically, “Sorry.” She was so exhausted at work, counting down the minutes until her shift was over at the campus bookstore so she could go home and curl up with Pumpkin, the adorable black cat she adopted only a month ago when it was love at first sight. Grad school was a vicious beast that she had yet learned how to slay. She probably hadn’t slept in the last 48 hours, busy with school, work, and occasionally binging B-rated horror movies on Netflix with Pumpkin. In her drowsy state, she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions, like accidentally charging the last customer the wrong price, shelfing the Twilight series under the Biography section, and stepping on her coworker’s foot. She was just so tired.

“Okay? Thanks for apologizing? But you literally haven’t moved. You’re still stepping on my foot!” He pointed at her white sneakers atop his (knock-off) Timberlands.

She gave him a playful glare and replied, “You’re so high-maintenance,” before shifting away from him.

“Okay, well, I just came to tell you I’m headed home a little early,” he paused to eye her with vague concern, “Are you sure you’re okay to close up?”

She snorted, “Does my answer even matter? It’s not like you’re gonna offer to close up for me.”

He grinned good-naturedly, “Yeah you’re right. Makes me feel like less of a dick though.” Putting on his coat and gathering his backpack, he quickly headed for the door as if the devil was chasing him, ignoring the peace sign Mags threw at his retreating figure. Probably eager to go home and chug some beer, or like start a fire, or whatever it was that boys like to do. Mags wouldn’t know. She couldn’t possibly even attempt to understand the male psyche.

Like for example, Mags looked at the only customer in the bookstore, frantically pacing through the aisles and muttering incomprehensibly to himself. His curly hair was tussled and frayed, not in the intentional bedhead way that some people, like her ex-boyfriend, styled it in an attempt to look good but actually coming off as a douche, but in a way that indicated he’s probably been constantly running his hand through it. Probably exam stress, she mused, considering the boy’s current state. He was tall too, she observed, but that was overshadowed by his hunched shoulders, head facing down, and of course the frantic pacing.

“Dude. Are you okay?” Mags called out in a voice slightly louder than usual.

No answer, as if he didn’t even hear her. She realized she should probably be a bit more cautious. The customer honestly was acting very strange. He could probably be planning to rob the bookstore. She was the only employee left, her slight build and big brown eyes (which her friends called doe-eyed but Mags herself considered to look more like a fish) weren’t enough to intimidate anyone. She laughed softly to herself. Like anyone would rob this bookstore. College students never paid with cash and Mags probably had negative three dollars to her name and an even lower will to live. If someone held her at gunpoint asking her to hand over her wallet, she’d probably wouldn’t be able to stop herself from bursting into laughter. Besides, he looked like a college student himself. An English major, she guessed, considering his pretentious wool coat and heeled boots. She did a double take. Glittery, heeled boots apparently. She would know, she’s dated her fair share of them.

You’re being so foolish, Maggie-Girl, she scolded herself with the affectionate nickname she gave herself and that no one (read: especially Niall, her roommate’s, Marisol’s, boyfriend) was ever allowed to address her as.

The draft Liam let in earlier caused her to shudder. Wrapping her yellow cardigan tightly across her chest, she longingly gazed out the window. The weather was the perfect crispy fall weather, with orange leaves littering the sidewalks and she sighed, wistfully thinking about the brisk air sure to greet her as she biked home. If only the boy would leave, she could be on her way!

She glanced at her watch and decided, screw her self-preservation. She stepped out from behind the check-out counter and headed towards the boy. He barely noticed her, continuing to drag his fingers frantically through the spines of the books on the shelf. Mags just now realized they were standing under the horror section of the store. Weird.

“Hey, um, dude. Are you okay?” She asked with a voice that she hoped sounded professional and confident but probably came across as a mix of “wow-I-don’t-get-paid-enough for this” and “maybe I don’t wanna die?”

Her presence seems to finally break him out of whatever trance he was in. He looked up at her, taking Mags aback. He’s kind of cute, she thought, if she ignored the bluish-purple bags under his green eyes and his pink lips twisted into a frown. Potentially a robber, possibly a murderer who likes to creep out female employees in bookstore by having a near breakdown in the horror section, sure, but at least he was nice to look at.

“What?”

Mags gave him an ironic smile in return. “Ah, you speak! Thank god. I was beginning to think your only talents were to burn a hole through the carpet.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “What?” he repeated in frustration.

Maybe I gave him more credit than he deserved she thought to herself. Out loud, she said, “Look. Technically, we’re closing in 5 minutes. You looked like you needed help. What’re you looking for? Maybe then we can both get out of here.”

His eyes darted nervously to the side. “A book,” is his brilliant reply.

“Yeah? I figured?” She said, stretching out her word because at this point, who cared if the boy could tell she thought he was ridiculous. This was definitely a strange scenario and she wondered if her own sleep-deprivation caused her to dream up this handsome boy with vague answers and possibly three functioning braincells. She briefly had a thought that this was like a reverse You situation, where he was the Joe to her Beck, but she quickly stopped her overactive imagination “Any book in particular?”

“Yeah, um,” the boy quickly straightened up and looked her in the eyes, as if he finally came to the realization that he was coming off a little odd, “I’m looking for a horror book. Obviously. But like, something non-fiction? Like about, y’know. Ghosts.“

“Ghosts?” She cautiously prodded, “but non-fiction? Like…paranormal accounts?”

“Yes! Like, I dunno, spooky shit. Stuff, sorry. Paranormal stuff about like haunted houses,” His eyes brightened, and his word tumbled out faster with a tinge of hope. “Hey! You wouldn’t happen to have a How-To book about how to cleanse a house that’s haunted?”

Mags tried. She really did try. Not the fake trying like when she tries to make it to her 8 am class every Tuesday morning and ‘accidentally’ snoozes her alarm. Not even the fake trying she does when Marisol makes her do sit-ups at the gym for their weekly (read: monthly) workout and she taps out after 5. But even trying her hardest meant she could not stop the laughter that escaped her mouth.

“Haha, I’m sorry, what?” She laughed, her face in disbelief and amusement, clutching her stomach, “You want what? What is this? Did you end up watching too many episodes of Buzzfeed Unsolved ‘cuz honestly, I’m not sure you got the right bone structure to be Shane. You’re funny though, I’ll give you that!”

The laughter and words began to trail off because the boy, his face completely changed. The hopeful, pleading gleam that was in his eyes suddenly hardened in anger. Mags quickly tried to reign herself in, registering that he was not amused, and she’d accidentally offended him.

“I –“ She began, ready to start apologizing because she realized she completely read the room wrong.  “Forget it!” He cut her off, quickly stuffing the book he had in his hands back into the bookshelf.

“Whatever.” He peered at her nametag disdainfully, “Don’t offer to help if you don’t intend to, Magnolia,” spewing her name out like it was poison in his mouth.

“Wait! I’m sor – “

“Forget it. Sorry I asked!” He exclaimed, abruptly walking past her, his shoulders jostling hers and she whipped around to try and apologize once more.

But he left just as quickly as Liam did. Like the devil was chasing him.

Mags turned around and pulled out the book he had in his hands (and totally shelfed in the wrong place), trailing her fingers across the blue leather bound and golden imprinted letters. “Exorcism: Encounters with the Paranormal and Occult,” she muttered to herself, and then looked up at the door that the boy had exited from. “Nonfiction.”

She slumped against the bookshelf, mentally kicking herself. Why don’t you ever think before you speak?! She berated herself morosely. Had she taken a second to assess the situation, she would’ve registered his worried eyes and another emotion that she couldn’t quite place. Could it have been…fear? She eyed the book in her hand. What could that boy possibly be afraid of?

Her phone dinged with a text message. She pulled it out of her pocket and immediately groaned reading the message from Marisol.

Pumpkin just shat (shitted? shatted?) on the living room carpet J  Can’t wait ‘till ur home.

If Mags was an English major, she’d probably see an irony in this. Or like a metaphor, because she shat all over that boy’s concerns and like the shit was representative of like…. being a dick? But she wasn’t an English major. Obviously.

The only thing her soon-to-be-chemist brain could come up with was: well, fuck, isn’t karma a bitch.

_______________________________________________________________________

Day 3: October 26th - 5 days until Halloween

“Be honest with me. Am I gonna die?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Niall!” Mags exclaimed, shifting her backpack onto her other shoulder, “For the last time! I. Don’t. Know.”

“But look closely!” He pestered, shoving his arm into her face, whining. “Tell me this rash doesn’t look bad. It’s red! And like, rashy! And it itches, Mags, it itches so bad! I think it’s infected!”

She backed away from him and shoved the offending arm away, quickly muttering an apology to the guy in a suit and tie behind her, before facing Niall again with widened eyes (well, wider than usually because Fish Eyes, remember?). “Seriously, Niall, I really can’t deal with you before I’ve had my morning tea.”

“But I – “

She cut him off. “And rashes can’t be infected! Now can we puh-lease talk about something else? Anything else. I’ll literally discuss your sex life with Marisol right now if it means we can stop talking about your nasty-ass rash!” This time, she ignored the glare from the man in the business suit; she can’t be blamed for his eavesdropping.

While Niall, in typical Niall fashion (taking everything literally), began to recount a tale about his midnight rendezvous with Marisol, Mags let her mind wander. She impatiently tapped her foot against the floor, sparing another glance at her watch, while also giving her own mental nod of approval at the store’s festive decorations (fake spider webs and caution tapes that adorned the doors and counter). For a chain that had a slew of ridiculous redundant names for their drinks (she will always bemoan the fact that people don’t realize that a chai tea is literally translated to tea tea), they sure knew how to get into the Halloween spirit. The line at Starbucks was long she noted, and with four people ahead of them, she and Niall would be late for their lecture if things didn’t speed up. Mags just knew she should’ve made her own cup of chai this morning, but it never tasted the same as when her mom made it, and all it would do is make her more homesick.

Niall briefly interrupted her train of thought with a quick interjection, “Yo, Maggie are you listening to me,” to which she responded with a quick lie, “Yes!” followed by a “And don’t call me that!” with a soft jab to his ribs.

The gears in her mind shifted, wandering to the boy from the bookstore last night. She couldn’t stop thinking about him last night on her bike ride home, during her stern lecture with Pumpkin about the importance of using the litter box, all the way until she finally went to bed. What was he so scared of? She pondered while also still scolding herself for handling the situation absolutely in the worst way. Though she didn’t mean to, she doesn’t ever intend to come across as so rude and aggressive. She just had a knack for blurting out the wrong thing that made it hard for people to see that she actually had a heart of gold.

Well, maybe not gold, she thought. That was giving herself too much credit. To be sure, she interrupted Niall’s ramblings with a quick interjection, “Hey quick question. Would you say I have a heart of gold or like…a heart of bronze?”

He was used to her antics; his blue eyes didn’t even hesitate before meeting hers. “Are we using an Olympic scale? Like gold would be first place and like the kindest person ever?” Acknowledging her nod, he held his fingers to his chin, making the universal thinking face as he mulled over her question.

She barely heard his answer (“Maybe a happy medium, like a silver heart? You suck at first impressions but once ya get to know ya, you’re super sweet,” the blonde mused in the background) because something, or more like someone, caught her eye. She watched him walk past her, exiting the Starbucks. Her eyes locked in on a pair of glittery boots and trailed up a pair of black jeans, a burgundy hoodie, and finally, green eyes that looked even more sleep-deprived than last night if that was possible, until she stopped at the black beanie that did little to contain the escaping brown curls.

It was the boy! The boy from last night!

“It’s him!” She shouted to Niall, dragging him by the arm so she could catch the boy before he left, ignoring Niall’s cries (“Wait, we were next in line!”)

“Hey!” Mags shouted, ignoring the grimace of the man in the suit, as she chased after the boy with a disgruntled Niall slowly trailing behind. She followed the boy outside, desperate to get his attention. “Ghost boy!” she shouted, somewhat hysterically, “Wait!”

Finally, he turned around, just registering that the crazy girl running on the sidewalk was trying to get his attention. His eyes widened in surprised and then narrowed with recognition, as he frowned.

“I - What did you just call me?” He said, his voice huskier than Mags recalled.

“Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name last night. I needed to get your attention! I needed to apologize.” Her eyes took in his appearance. He looked even more haggard than yesterday. His face seemed sunken in and his skin dull. He was still really handsome, if her heartrate was any indicator, but he looked worse for wear.

“Look,” she continued, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to like, laugh at you or anything. Let me make it up to you! I can probably help you find the book you’re looking for! My conscious is like, really annoying, and I couldn’t sleep last night ‘cuz I felt so bad and I looked up a shit ton of books about hauntings. Nonfiction ones! For whatever mysterious reason you need them for.”

His brows furrowed and his frown deepened, “What?” He shook his head from side to side, as if to shake away his confusion, “Look s’all good. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out on my own,” He turned as if to walk away before adding as an afterthought, “You curse a lot, y’know?”

Before she could even respond, she was interrupted again (which was probably a good thing because her knee-jerk response was to say “No shit sherlock”) by Niall coming to a stop beside her.

“Mags, what the actual fuck? We were next in line!” He bent over slightly, resting his hands against his knees as he paused to catch his breath from the strenuous five steps he took from the Starbucks door to where she and the boy were standing. He looked up and nodded, “What’s up, Harry?”

“Hey Niall,” the boy, Harry, said as he eyed the pair of them cautiously, like he didn’t want anyone to think he could be associated with them. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Wait, Harry!” Magnolia cried out, making immediate use of his name, “Seriously, tell me what’s wrong! I can help!” But her cries fell to deaf ears as she watched Harry walk off, his shoulders in his seemingly perpetual slump, one hand jammed into his pocket and the other holding his coffee cup as he crossed the street.

“So,” Niall began, “Couple of things to unpack here. We don’t have coffee, I’m a little more out of shape that I thought I was, and we’re definitely late for class so I suggest we should just skip it and grab some food.” He finally straightened up and looked at Mags, as if was an afterthought, “Wait. How d’you know Harry? Did you sleep with him?”

_______________________________________________________________________

Day 4: October 27th, 4 days until Halloween

On days like this, Mags truly does take a second to appreciate the finer things in life. The fall foliage that lined the paved pebble pathways on the university’s campus only contributed to the magical spell of October. As maple leaves fluttered downwind and the cool wind blew against her skin, she embraced the enchanting atmosphere of the autumnal weather, taking in the beauty as college students hurried past her, a colorful, warm blend of red scarves, brown coats, olive sweaters, and all. The breeze that blew through her dark hair didn’t even bother her, when usually she’d be grumpy considering how long it takes her to tame the thick, wavy locks into an acceptable amount of frizz. Despite having an o-chem midterm waiting for her, she slowed her pace to truly enjoy the bliss she was in. Mags paused on the cobblestone to close her eyes and breathe in the cold air, a small smile slowly forming on her face. Nothing could ruin the feeling of contentment that she was feeling right now and –

“What’re you doin’?”

A deep baritone disrupted her. She stands corrected. Maybe she could be bothered. She took a longer second to herself, keeping her eyes closed and steadying her breathing before planning to huffily face whomever (whoever? Whomstever? Times like this really made Mags rejoice at the fact she wasn’t an English major) decided to ruin her moment of peace.

The same voice let out a chuckle. “Hey, are you planning to open your eyes anytime soon?”

It took her a second, but Mags recognized that voice. Ghost Boy! Harry! She whipped around towards the voice, her hair following along and sharply striking her face and shoulders as she settled her brown eyes on Harry. She was so happy to see him, even if he did ruin the coming-of-age, dramatic introspective Bollywood moment she was having to herself. Magnolia gazed at him, taking the surprisingly peaceful silence between them to truly assess him. His green eyes peered back at her, glistening from the cold breeze, pronounced by the dark purple bags that seemed to have worsened overnight. His cheekbones jutted out just below, and lower, his pink lips settled in an expression she couldn’t quite decipher, but she’d guess wistful if she had to. He seemed to be in better spirits, dressed in a chunky caramel cable-knit sweater. Maybe it was how cozily he was dressed or perhaps it was the softness enhanced by his sleepy demeanor, but Mags was hit by a sudden wave of endearment for him. For a boy she hardly knew! She shook off the weird feelings that washed over her and broke the silence.

“Harry!” She quickly recalled all their past encounters and decided to approach this conversation with a little less well-meaning aggression and exuberance. “Harry,” she calmly tried again, “I’m so glad you’re here. I really, really need you to listen to me. I am really and truly sorry I laughed at you the other day.” He opened his mouth to respond, but Mags bulldozed on, not wanting to lose her chance. “I – look, I have knack for saying the wrong thing but I promise that I really want to help you with –“ She paused as she realized she never knew what exactly seemed to be plaguing him, but persevered nevertheless, “with whatever it is that’s bugging you. I pinky promise I can help - somehow!”

He broke into an amused smile, one that Mags couldn’t help notice was a very nice smile at that. “Pinky promise, huh?” He prodded, “That’s pretty serious for someone who quite literally just met me and doesn’t even know what my problem is.”

“Well, whatever it is, just tell me! I won’t laugh!” Mags pleaded.

“Do you promise not to laugh?”

“I promise!” She said solemnly, her face somber, nodding with earnestness.

“Do you,” he paused, inhaling a deep breath, as Mags leaned in closer to listen, breath baited, eyes unwavering, “do you pinky promise?”

“Oh!” She swatted at him with a free hand as she realized he was teasing her, as he stepped away laughing.

“Sorry,” he smiled, not looking the least bit apologetic, “Couldn’t help m’self.”

They shared a small moment, each looking at the other with their own, soft smiles before

Harry suddenly straightened up, his smile vanishing just as Mags began to welcome the sight. His tone sobered, “I did wanna say m’sorry for being kinda a dick to you. I’m dealing with…something right now and I really didn’t mean to take it out on you, Magnolia.”

“Mags,” she instinctively corrected, “Magnolia is reserved for customers that I don’t insult.”

“Mags,” he repeated wryly, “I like that. Well anyways, just happen to pass you and wanted to say that.” He gestured to the papers she had forgotten were clutched in her hands, “Anyways, looks like you’ve got a test on…” He trailed off, squinting at her neat penmanship of carefully copied formulas and calculations, “rocket science or quantum physics or whatever those horrible numbers mean. Just looking at it is giving me a headache. I’m sure you’ll do well though.  G’luck!” He said, turning to leave.

“No wait!” She was not going to lose another chance. Truly, she did feel awful about how she treated Harry, but also, she didn’t want him to go for reasons she couldn’t quite explain. She liked his presence and didn’t want the conversation to end just yet. “Will you seriously tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

He considered her, his guarded eyes boring into hers for what felt like eternity, not even breaking contact when a boy with rounded hipster coke-bottle glasses and a plaid coat bumped against her shoulder without so much as an apology (friggin’ English majors she briefly lamented).

“Yeah, okay,” he conceded, running his hands roughly through his brown curls, “You think I’m crazy anyways and it’s not like my life can get any weirder.” He pursed his lips as he formulated his thoughts. Mags tried to be patient, resisting the urge to check her watch because she did actually care about her grades and she did have a midterm to get to after all and Niall was such a push-over he wouldn’t be able to save her a seat for much longer, but she had to hear what he had to say. Just as she was going to (gently, she swears) prompt Harry, he broke his contemplative silence.

“Um. Okay so basically,” he stalled, scratching at his hairline before spewing out in anxious, bullet-fast speech, “I um, pretty-sure-I-accidentally-summoned-like-a-demon-or-ghost-or-some-evil-otherwordly-spirit-in-my-house-and-now-I’m-being-haunted.

Brown eyes blinked in his directions. To her credit, Mags remained composed despite her thoughts that ranged from what the actual fuck, this boy is psychotic to my minority ass is not equipped for this situation to aww he looks kinda cute when he’s nervous.

“Yes,” in reality is how she responded, trying to maintain neutral as she organized her thoughts, her voice robotic, “I understand.”

“Yeah, see, I knew this was a mistake. I didn’t really expect you to believe me,” his hopeful expression fading to disappointment, belying his words.

“No! Okay, yeah I don’t believe you,” she confessed, “but,” brandishing her speech with wild gestures, “I can help you prove that your house isn’t haunted! That’ll like give both you and I peace of mind! Not right now, because I really do have to go kick some o-chem ass but like, later tonight? Take my number, text me your address, and we can like ghostbust the fuck out of your non-haunted home!”

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Harry nodded in agreement, albeit reluctantly but hey, she’d take it, Mags quickly gushed out her cellphone number as Harry’s thumb clumsily attempting to enter each digit and keep up.

Mags raced away, peeking at her watch and sparing a parting glance at Harry and calling out, “I’m serious Harry, if I don’t get a text, I will haunt you myself! And I am way more annoying than a ghost!” He smiled fondly in response, “I don’t doubt that. I swear I’ll text you,”

“Promise?” she shouted, as she retreated further away from him to her awaiting exam.

“Pinky promise.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Same day, later that evening

Mags leans against the bay window in the living room, watching the rain drops splatter against the window. A cup of chai in one hand, a worn murder-mystery novel in the other, with Pumpkin curled up against her feet hidden under thick socks, she truly felt content. Marisol had thrown a quilt over Mags legs earlier as the former left for work. Mags was so immersed in the book’s plot she barely gave the other girl an appreciative smile but she was sure Marisol knew.

She was pretty sure she aced her midterm exam earlier that day (and Niall was fairly confident that he didn’t fail so it was a win-win for all) and she was able to make some progress with Harry. The curly haired boy, whom she met for the first time a mere three days ago, seemed to consume a lot of her free time and thoughts.

He was just so curious, and skittish, and he genuinely did seem scared of something. Mags was a firm believer in science, statistics, hard, factual data. Give her an equation to solve or a statistical analysis to decipher over an essay any day. Even if she wasn’t a believer, she knew better than to laugh at others, even if her actions didn’t always reflect that. She had never believed in Santa Claus, being Muslim and all, but she’d been the one to comfort Kevin Vo in the first grade when the classroom bully had tried to convince others that Santa was fictitious. Likewise, even though she didn’t truly know Harry, she did believe that something was scaring him, and she was determined to figure out what it was. But one thing was sure, she positively knew it was not a ghost.

Her phone rang out with a small chime, alerting her of a text message.

Hey, It’s Harry. Harry Styles.

Before she could respond, her phone dinged again.

Or as you like to call me, Ghost Boy.

harry!! im so glad u txted!!!

I keep my promises. Are you sure you want to come to my house that is DEFINITELY haunted?

yes i do wanna come to ur house that is definitely NOTT(!!) haunted. send me ur addy.

Once receiving his address, Mags began to root through her closet for a warmer coat and umbrella. She grabbed her keys, gave Pumpkin an affectionate kiss on her furry little forehead, and gave herself one last look at the mirror. She almost found herself reapplying her mascara and running a brush through her hair, but she fought the urge. This is what she always looks like, and she wasn’t sure why she cared so much about her appearance for this friendly little demonic (but not really) excursion she was about to partake in. Certainly, she’s looked worse before. Liam has seem her adorned in her older brother’s shapeless, oversized sweaters as she hastily arrived seconds before her shift and Niall had seen her when she hadn’t showered in days, bra forgotten, her clothes stained, and remnants of last night’s dinner on her face (although, granted it had been Finals week).

As her blonde companion came to mind, as an afterthought, she shot one more text to Harry; just as a precaution because as attractive as he was, she didn’t know him that well yet. Though she doubted his heart was anything but sincere and good, she had to be safe.

also im bringin niall. the more the merrier rite?? (((:

Niall and Mags stood side by side on the property, their sneakers and boots respectively crunching the orange leaves that littered the lawn, as they gazed up. The house was huge, intricate, a stark contrast against the cloudy gray sky, and beautiful. Hauntingly so. If she believed in ghosts, Mags could envision how one would think this particular house was haunted. The brown and orange wood that made the exterior seemed to indicate that this house could creak when it wasn’t supposed to, the broken shutters revealing that the house holds secrets from its past, the surrounding black iron gates emitting a foreboding sense of doom.

But, she knew how to deal with facts. And the facts were that this house was old as shit and old houses liked to creak. She was sure that Harry probably just had an overactive imagination, which she was here to quell.

“Holy hell, you’re tellin’ me that Harry lives here? In this friggin’ place?” Niall let out a low appreciative whistle, “I’m definitely gonna have to convince him to host a house party here.”

She snorted in response, “Right? He couldn’t have lived in shitty student housing like the rest of us?”

They made their way to the porch, carefully side-stepping planks of rotting wood and loose nails. As Niall knocked, Mags sent a quick text to Harry alerting him of their presence. She’d filled Niall in when she picked him up for this adventure, letting him know that Harry was scared that this house was haunted and that they, soon to be scientists, were going to prove that it was all just hodgepodge. Blasphemous.  A figment of his imagination. And of course, Niall was game, as he always was, his laidback and flexible personality among the many traits that Mags loved about the Irishman. The door creaked open, groaning under the movement of shifting wood, as Harry greeted them with an appreciative smile.

“Hey. Come in. Thanks for doing this, honestly,” he ushered them inside, into the house, “though I’m not sure how smart this idea is, or why you’d be more equipped to tell if this house is haunted more than me, considering one of ya have literally drank yourself into a drunken stupor and became convinced that Big Bird was a part of a larger conspiracy theory.”

“Falsifications!” Niall boasted, while Mags yelled in her defense, “Hey that was literally ONE time!”

Both Harry and Niall shot her a concerned look. “Right,” she realized, “You were referring to Niall because we just met and how could you possibly know that about me? Haha. Moooving on.”

Niall and Harry amicably bickered in the background and Mags wandered off to take in her surroundings. She had every intention of taking off her heavy coat as she surveyed the house, taking in the wood floors, antique furniture, mosaic windows, and high ceilings, but there was a chill in the air, despite the burning fire crackling in fireplace. She turned to question Harry about the temperature, and his eyes were already on her, watching her take everything in with an unidentifiable emotion. Recovering from his unexpected gaze, she questioned, “Why’s it so cold in here? Trying to save money on bills?”

Harry seemed validated by her question, “See! So you notice that too! No matter how much I crank the thermostat or feed wood to the fireplace, it is always chilly in here.”

Niall nodded sagely, “Ah yes. A very common indicator that a house is haunted,” which caused Harry to nod enthusiastically in agreement in having found his kindred spirit and Mags to shoot Niall a look of annoyance.

“Or,” she interjected, “It could mean literally anything else. Climate change can be linked to more severe, harsher winters and this has certainly been a record-breaking cold October.” This, in turn, prompted Niall and Harry to shoot each other a look, as if to fondly say they found her adorable. Huffing slightly, she continued, “Okay, Harry, let’s get down to business. What else is making you think you’re haunted? Tell me everything.”

Harry nodded, “It’s a long story. Let’s get settled on the couch, I’ll grab us some drinks. This is going to be an interesting evening.”

Wine in hand (and a beer for Niall), bodies settled, and fire crackling, the trio sat on the rug and couch, eyes on Harry. He cleared his throat, an odd hush falling over them as he began his tale, “Well, let’s start from the beginning. The reason I even can afford to live in this house is because Bertha, the old widow who owns the place. She used to live here and took a liking to me, so she charges me cheap rent after her granddaughter took her to another state to live with her.”

“Gilf,” Niall responded nodding, as Mags inquired, “Wait, how did you even know Bertha?”

“We played Bingo together,” Harry clarified, which raised more questions, but he didn’t elaborate, “Anyways, I lived here for about a month, no problems other than the usually leaky faucets and the sorts. But one evening,” he broke off, lowering his head to focus on the arms of his sweater stretched over his palm, his fingers twiddling anxiously.

He looks so sad and worried. Mags instinctively reached out and placed a comforting hand on his knee, the warmth of his skin felt through his jeans, causing Harry to look up as she smiled in reassurance.

“Right,” he persisted, “Well, one evening, about a week ago, my friend Louis and I were having drinks and watching horror movies, as a little farewell celebration because he was going to study abroad the next day. Getting into the Halloween spirit y’know? We were drunk and shootin’ the piss, and Louis suggested we hold a séance as he had a Ouija board in his car.”

“He just happened to have a Ouija board in his car?” Mags questioned in disbelief.

“He’s odd like that,” Harry explained, coinciding with Niall’s comment “Yeah, that checks out. Sounds like Louis!” Once again, reminding Mags that Niall was such a social person, and of course he somehow knew this Louis character.

“So we were just being stupid, lighting candles and asking the Ouija board silly questions and really just goofing off,” the sound of the rain grew louder, the droplets slapping against the wooden house and glass windows, prompting Harry to raise his voice to be heard, “And off Louis went to Brazil the next day to study abroad. And over the next few days, things kept happening.”

“Things?” Mags encouraged.

“Things like…I would hear sounds in the night. The wood creaks like someone is walking through the house and I hear strange sounds like scratching on the walls. The lights randomly flicker,” He takes in a shuddering breath, his hands absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread form his sweater in apprehension, “and I dunno, a painting literally fell off the wall in the dead of the night. That is not normal! Sometimes, there’s a weird smell in here, like rotten eggs, and it doesn’t go away no matter how hard I clean or how much air freshener I buy. It is always so cold in here and I haven’t been able to sleep in days, because I feel like something is just…watching me. If I can sleep, it’s only for a little because I’ll have nightmares, or I find myself waking up in the middle of the night.” Harry’s voice gets louder and louder, becoming more agitated and fearful as he recounts, “I can’t take it anymore, but I’m stuck here until the next semester but I’m not sure how much longer I can last.”

A quietness overtakes them, as everyone processes the story. Once again, Harry breaks the silence, “I dunno what we did that night, but I think. I think we definitely woke something.”

Mags stared at him, her heart feeling for him and she so desperately wished she could just give him the answers. Her brain was in overdrive, considering what could be source causing all the strangeness. Sleep deprivation can cause a lot of symptoms, her mind raced, delirium, hallucinations, your cognitive functions skewed because of being loopy. Because she believed, that while he may believe everything he said to be genuine, there were other plausible explanations. Ones that didn’t include the paranormal.

“Well, we’re here for ya mate,” Niall promised as Mags murmured in agreement. “We ain’t leaving ya alone tonight and we’ll be here to hear anything strange.”

Harry exhaled in obvious relief, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Thanks mate,” he said, as Niall cheered and went off to grab himself another beer, leaving the pair alone, “And thank you, Mags. I just, can’t explain it, but I feel better just having you here.” Mags looked at him, the fire dancing in the reflection of his eyes. His words were sincere and made her feel warm despite the chill, alighting her nerves. “Of course,” was all she could muster in response, her voice thick with emotion.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Day 5: October 28th, 3 days until Halloween

The rest of last night had passed in a similar fashion. They watched a B-rated cult classic on the Sy-Fy channel, played a rousing game of scrabble in which Niall of all people emerged victorious (the winning word with triple points: craic), and just swapping stories about their lives. It was fun, and Harry had looked the most relaxed that she had ever seen him. But when they woke in the morning, the mood was somber. Niall and Mags hadn’t heard a single peep the entire night, sleeping peacefully until morning, leaving Harry to fret over two options: the fear that he had gone crazy or that they wouldn’t believe him.

Mags was quick to dissipate both fears, assuring him that she would go home, shower, pack herself a bag, and come back again after work. If anything, she knew just having someone there with him helped Harry sleep better than he had in days, and although Niall wouldn’t be able to make it as he had a date night planned with Marisol, Mags wanted to be there for Harry. Harry was kind, Mags discerned, the way he had draped a blanket over her snoring figure last night and had given Niall his extra pillow. And the way she felt when he looked at her? She couldn’t describe. It was unlike any feeling that not even her past boyfriends made her feel, and it was simply small touches and gazes. She felt like a Victorian woman in the early ages, having to fan herself at the slightest contact, becoming undone and exhilarated when Harry had reached to embrace her in a hug earlier that day, his sweater rising to revealing his tanned, taut stomach and a peek of tattoos.

She drifted through work in a haze. She barely could recall any of the customers and she wouldn’t be able to you what she and Liam chatted about throughout her shift. She would get off in the evening, since she was closing again, and Harry insisted on coming to pick her up so they could walk back together to his home. Pumpkin lazily stalked through the aisles of the store, darting between the shelves and under tables as Mags watched in amusement. Mags wanted to bring Pumpkin along for their sleepover, and Harry thought it was a great idea because in his words, “A black cat would totally be able to sense if something was off.” Her bosses were never in the store and she knew Liam didn’t mind Pumpkin’s presence, if the fact that he had spent the latter half of the day cooing at her pink nose and soft paws, giving her belly rubs and half his lunch to share was any indicator.

Though she knew she was being silly, she mused as she kneeled on the worn carpet and shelved a stack of books, she couldn’t help feeling the anticipation and nervousness that usually precedes a date. But it wasn’t a date. She was just feeling this way because Niall wouldn’t be there and it would be just her and Harry in that big old house, alone together. If she was being honest, she would admit that she did wish it was a date. She found herself drawn to Harry, his caring personality and really taken by his dimples and all. His husky, low voice stirred something deep in her stomach, and when she heard the baritone in his throaty voice, coated with sleepiness earlier in the morning? She felt flush and wonderstruck, all at once.

But it wasn’t a date. Facing facts is what she did best. It was just two people on their way to becoming friends, working to prove that his house was not being inhabited by any spirits, that’s all. Completely platonic, normal stuff.

When it was 8 minutes to closing, Mags began to make sure that everything was put away so she could leave on time considering there probably wouldn’t be any last-minute customers, noting that Pumpkin was now currently snoozing near the cash register. She was deep in thought, dusting a particularly dusty shelf, secretly becoming more and more excited at the thought of spending more time with Harry.

“Boo!”

“Holy shit!” Mags’ heart jumped out of her chest, as she whirled around in fear, only to be met with a laughing Harry, one hand outstretched and grasping the bookshelf, the other across his stomach as he doubled over in laughter.

“You’re an idiot!” She declared, without malice, shoving her shoulders against his. “Absolutely awful.”

“Y’know, for a girl who says she isn’t afraid of ghosts, you sure are quite jumpy.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m a girl, Harry. I have real things to fear. Like creepy men that come in here to harass me!”

His eyes flashed with amusement as he leaned against the shelf. “If you want me to leave, just say the word.”

Mags just smiled to herself in response, choosing to ignore his comment. “I’m almost finished up here and then I’ll be ready to go.”

“Y’know,” said Harry, his tone become dramatic and teasing, “This is where we first met. When you first accosted me here, in this very aisle – “

“I did NOT accost you! You have to admit you were acting so suspicious!” Mags exclaimed indignantly. She straightened out one of the books and wondered aloud, “But it’s a bit crazy innit? That we just came into each other’s lives a mere four days ago?”

“Crazy,” Harry agreed, his sudden low and husky tone causing Mags to look up at him. “Feels like I’ve known you forever.” His eyes caught her with an unrecognizable expression, and Mags stared back, unable to look away. It’s like she was in a trance. Harry takes a step towards her, closing the small gap between them, standing so close that she could feel the warmth exuding from his chest, could see the freckles that dotted his green eyes, could practically hear his heart beating in his chest. Now was it just her or was his heart beating very, very fast?

Another second passes between them and Harry brings up his hand, placing it affectionally against her cheek, as Mags impulsively nuzzles against his palm. He leans in, closing the virtually non-existence gap between, his eyes focused on her lips, and all she could think was Is he going to – Is this really happening?

“Please tell me you guys are still open!” An unfamiliar voice shouts, as a male college student races in, eyes frantic and voice desperate.

Harry and Mags spring apart, their bodies separating as they turned to face the newcomer.

“I’ve got a paper due tonight on a book that I haven’t read. Please tell me you’re open and that you have Shakespeare!”

“Y-yes,” Mags answered, her voice a little shaky as she avoids looking at Harry, “Technically, we’re still open for another 2 minutes. You said Shakespeare? Which one?”

The boy looks around, scanning the books in the aisle before answering, “William, I think.”

She lets out a huge sigh before finally looking at Harry. “I’m just gonna help this last customer and then we can lock up and head out.” “I’ll be waiting.”

She guides the customer to the classic literature section; On the outside, she was explaining how prolific of an author Shakespeare was but internally, she was still thinking about her interaction with Harry. They were already becoming so close. When people get close, Mags discovered from her 23 years on Earth, they find the things they like and appreciate about you. But it’s a double-edge sword. That kind of intimacy also reveals the unpleasant things, it gives the other an opportunity to see the all the little things that makes a person real. Real was messy and not always pleasant. What if Harry saw all the little things that made Mags real – her tendency to ramble, her need to always have opinions about everything that she often loudly expressed, her struggle to be emotionally vulnerable with others – and decided that she’s easier to admire from afar. It was always a fear of hers, one of those doubts deep within her heart that she’d never expressed, never spoken into existence, but that still dwelled profoundly within; the fear that the more you got to know her, the harder she’d become to love.

In the middle of asking the customer probing questions, and finally being able to deduce he was looking for Othello, she turned to look at Harry who was across the shop. Just like countless times before, she found that his eyes were already on her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Okay,” Mags twisted the key into the lock and pulled the door of the bookstore before turning to face Harry, “We are good to go.”

It took Mags seemingly forever to get the last customer checked out and out of the store. She and Harry seemed to have an unspoken agreement to not speak of whatever it was that almost happened between them.

Harry lifted the cat carrier up into his arms as Pumpkin let out an adorable little mewl, begging for attention. Harry stuck his finger between the bars, laughing as Pumpkin’s pink tongue darted out to lick his finger. “Well, how about this? We go drop Pumpkin off at my house and let her get settled. And then how about you and I go grab some dinner. There’s a diner nearby and I’m sure you’re famished,” Harry suggested, all the while playing with Pumpkin and not meeting her eye.

On the outside, Mags was cool, calm, and collected and she offhandedly remarked, “Sure” in agreement. But on the inside, she was a whirlwind of emotions. Dinner? Like a date? I’m not ready for this. I mean, I know I was just wishing this was a date but maybe I should have wished that I’d have the foresight to have changed into a top that didn’t have a coffee stain on it or to have applied some gloss before coming to work today. She felt so unprepared.

But then Harry’s looked at her when she responded affirmatively, his eyes shining happily and a broad grin overtook his face, and suddenly, she didn’t quite feel so panicked. It was as if he was nervous that she’d shoot his idea down. Anew with confidence, she stated, “Lead the way.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The diner that Harry had chosen was very kitschy, decorated in a way that heavy handedly embraced the retro 80’s vibe, with neon signs and polyester covers on the booths. The diner even got into the Halloween spirit, as evident by the fake bats that were hung all around the place, and the jack-o-lantern tablecloths covering each tabletop. Harry and Mags were seated across from each other, staring at the menu, as a male artist’s voice crooned from the juke box, singing about holding hands.

“So,” Mags began as she finished assessing the menu, “My options are either a hamburger or a cheeseburger. How ever will I decide?”

Harry laughed at her reaction to the limited food options. “What can I say? Don’t need really need too many options when everything tastes amazing.” Ordering a cheeseburger and coke for herself, Harry followed suit, and Mags inquired, “You come here often?” “Yeah,” Harry admitted, his fingers interlocked and resting atop the table, “I just really like the vibes. It’s also a 24-hour diner and I’ve been coming here more often within the past week, since I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

Right. Harry’s haunting problem. She’d almost completely forgotten, but she wasn’t really to blame. Was she really supposed to stay focused when she and Harry had walked to the diner, their arms intertwined, chatting about anything and everything? When he sat only a few feet across from her, trying to catch her eye but also nervously looking away?

“Hopefully, you can finally start getting some rest soon enough. Maybe we’ll finally be able to put this whole ghost business to rest tonight,” she suggested optimistically.

He gave her a sad smile in return. “Hopefully,” he said, his voice betraying the fact that he didn’t really believe that to be true.  

Her heart ached for him once more, so she decided to change the subject. “What song is this anyway? I kinda like it. It’s cute and – what?”

Harry regarded her strangely. “What’d ya mean who is this? It’s the Beatles.”

“Like the bug?” she joked, before quickly admitting, “I’m kidding, I know of the Beatles. I just don’t usually listen to this kind of music, now don’t go and have a heart attack,” she explained as Harry eyes had initially widened at her statement.

“So, what kind of music do you usually listen to?”

“I’m definitely a top 40’s kind of girl,” Mags responded, shifting in her seat. She thanked the waitress, who adorned a festive witch’s hat, as she set down their cokes and began to work on unwrapping her straw, planning to blow the wrapper at an unsuspecting Harry’s face.

“Top 40’s? What’s that?”

“Y’know,” she responded, “Like, the top 40 songs that are most popular on the charts. The songs that are always playing on the radio.” Harry held his hand against his chest, as if he couldn’t fathom anything worse. “You are so pretentious!” She laughed, “Those songs are popular for a reason!”

Harry laughed too, making sure to let Mags know that he was really just teasing her, no malice behind his mockery. “And just when I thought there was absolutely nothing wrong with you, you go ahead and admit to that.”

Mags couldn’t help her own smile from creeping across her face. “I’m far from perfect Harry.”

There’s a look of affection that seems to flash in Harry’s eyes and Mags flushes, not really sure how to deal with it. “Yeah?” he responds, looking down to swirl the condensation pooling at the bottom of his glass of coke, “Could’ve fooled me.”

The rest of their dinner passed by in a similar fashion. Comfortable jokes, casual conversations, and longing looks passing between them. It was the first time that Mags had ever seen Harry look truly happy. She decided it was a good look on him, and right then and there, she made a silent vow to herself that she would do everything in her power to keep that happiness. Even if it meant she’d have to face the devil himself.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Although Harry’s house was cold, it was still much warmer than the bitter icy wind howling outside. Entering his home, Mags immediately took off her shoes and coat, with Harry following suit. She looked to him to see where she should place her coat, and when he removed his dark peacoat and tossed it over an armchair, so did she. He was wearing a cranberry colored crew neck sweater, and he wore it well, leading Mags to ponder if his closets were just an endless supply of comfy clothes, each cozier than the last. Not wanting to be caught eyeing him, she shuffled into the living room, pausing to scratch Pumpkin under her chin, just like she liked it, and to drop her duffle bag onto the floor.

“There a bathroom just down the hall, if you’d like to change into your pajamas there,” Harry offered. He scratched the back of his neck, “I’m just gonna, um, go in my room and change into mine to give you some privacy. I’ll meet you back out here and maybe we can watch a movie or something?”

“Sure,” she replied, somewhat amused. In the bathroom, she changed into her pajamas, which consisted of an old Maroon 5 shirt she had from years ago and a pair of soft fleece pajamas. When packing earlier that day, she had briefly considered wearing something a bit more flattering, but she realized it was futile because she liked to be comfortable when she slept, let alone the fact she didn’t actually own any proper sleepover, her pajama wardrobe made of oversized promotional t-shirts unsuitable for public wear. She washed her face and turned to face her reflection in the mirror. She gazed at her big, brown eyes, droplets of water tinting the tips of her lashes. Her warm tawny brown skin seemed dull and washed out under the harsh fluorescent bathroom lighting. Her dark hair was due for a haircut, and in its windswept state, wasn’t doing her any favors. She swept back her hair into a high ponytail, the stubborn baby hairs quickly reclaiming their rightful spot by framing her face.

Mags was never one of those girls that couldn’t acknowledge that she was pretty (not that girls who struggled with their beauty were less than, everyone had their own struggles. Mags was a large supporter of girls and wouldn’t speak ill of her sisters). She found that she did quite well with the male population, garnering attention when she so desired, and sometimes unwanted attention as well (looking at you, creepy Walmart man that had the audacity to comment on her big boobs just because she wasn’t wearing a bra). But then men she usually gave the time of day weren’t men of substance. Usually, she sought them out for something physical sans the intimacy. But something about Harry had her feeling self-conscious, unnerved. Raw. It was like he was appreciating her outer beauty but also truly seeing her, erratic enthusiasm and all. And even more baffling? He seemed to like what he saw.

Mags broke out of her reverie and found Harry lounging on the couch, remoted aimed at the tv as he flipped through channels. He looked up and automatically offered her one of his signature smiles, “You look lovely,” he commented nonchalantly.

“Thanks,” she responded reservedly. She joined him, careful to sit on the other end of the couch and looked around. “Where’s Pumpkin?”

“I put her on my bed,” Harry confessed, “Figured it’d be more comfortable than the hardwood floor.” “You’re gonna spoil her,” Mags snickered, “She’s used to sleeping atop the rusty radiator in my apartment.”

Harry and Mags quickly decided they should watch a movie, both wanting to stay in each other’s presence for a little while longer but struggling to find the words to express as such. Picking a movie, however, was a more difficult challenge as Harry felt that he’d had enough horror in his life to last a lifetime and couldn’t bear to suffer through another horror film, prompting Mags to put on “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before,” partially because she wanted to annoy Harry and partially because she just thought the move was really cute, okay? The joke was on her, because apparently Harry loved romance films and was really into the movie.

As entertaining as the movie was, both found their eyes wandering from the screen, looking at each other and quickly glancing away. Mags was very hyperaware of Harry’s presence on the couch, aware of his every movement. It was like her body was in tune with his. Meanwhile, Harry couldn’t help himself. He automatically gravitated to her, like he was seeking out warmth that only she could give. Mid-movie, they found themselves to be sitting side by side, practically no space between them. If Harry wanted to, he could reach out and enclose her hand with his.

And he wants to. And so he does.

And she doesn’t pull away.

They don’t speak, just hold hands, the only source of light illuminating from the television. Neither saying a word in fear of breaking the moment. Harry finds that for the first time in a while, he feels safe. Safe and happy. He hopes she feels the same way. 

Needing to hear her voice, to get some reassurance, Harry breaks the silence once again, his eyes never leaving the scene playing out on the television. “I don’t get this part. Why is Lara Jean so scared to be with Peter? She’s so hesitant when he obviously cares for her and she does too.”

“I think it makes sense. It’s pretty accurate,” Mags responds, shrugging slightly. “Yeah? Why’s that?” “Because,” Mags bites her cheek in contemplation, “Love is scary, y’know? And letting yourself fall for someone? That’s…well, it’s terrifying.” “Not if it’s the right person,” Harry said with all the sincerity of an honest man, before quickly adding as an afterthought, “And obviously, Peter is the right person for Lara-Jean.” “Right, for Lara-Jean,” Mags agreed a little too quickly, “But it’s still scary nonetheless. Some guys aren’t all that great. It’s hard. To trust someone else, to trust them with your vulnerability, to let them know every part of you, and trust them not to hurt you.”

Harry broke the spell. He no longer referred to the characters and implicated himself. “Y’know I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you, right? I…I care about you. You do know that, don’t you?”

As she peers up at him through her lashes and meets his widened eyes, she becomes mindful of how close they had leaned towards each other. She fidgets under his intense gaze, his green eyes piercing through her own. She feels the warmth of his hand on her thigh as he inches closer until his forehead rests against her. A loose stray curl tickles her cheek and his lips just barely brush against hers. She hesitates for only a moment before deepening the kiss, pressing her lips against his forcefully. He pulls away, his pupils blown and the smallest of smiles playing on his lips, and his eyes scan her face for reassurance. Whatever he’s looking for, he must find because he rushes to close the gap and his soft lips captures hers again. She responds eagerly and her hand cups the nape of his neck. His tongue lightly sweeps across her bottom lips before slipping into her mouth, making her hum in approval.

He gently pushes her back until she’s lying on the couch. He breaks the kiss for only a moment to pull off his t-shirt and toss it carelessly across the room before swinging his legs over her until he’s practically straddling her. One hand flies to his head, pulling at his curls as the other rakes it’s fingernails into his shoulder. She angles her head back and lets out a sharp intake of breath as he leaves a trail of wet kisses down her neck. She feels the hand resting on her lower back slide up and swiftly unclasp her bra. His hands explore her body until he’s palming her breast, grazing her nipple and rolling it between his fingers, making her gasp. Harry always thought of himself as an ass man, but now, in this moment, he has a newfound appreciation for breasts. Her tongue darts between his lips hungrily and he pulls his body closer to hers, grinding steadily. She can feel her whole body on fire, the tingling sensation spreading to the pit of her stomach. Her hands immediately go for the band of his pants, but she breaks away suddenly, and he outwardly moans at the loss of contact.

“What – What is it? Are we moving too fast?” Harry questions, panting rapidly.

Mags places a hand against his chest, as Harry allows her to push him upright and she follows suit, both now sitting up.

He would never forgive himself if he had pushed her and scared her away. “We can slow down. I didn’t mean to –“ “No, shhhhh,” Mags harshly shushed him. “Don’t you hear that?” And suddenly, they’re still, unmoving like stone. The house just as quiet as the two, the only sound filling the air is their own ragged breathing stabilizing. In the silence, just as suddenly, another loud creaking resounded against the wooden interior.

“Okay,” Harry said anxiously, his eyes wandering upwards from where the sound was seemingly coming from, “I heard that.” “Do you think it’s Pumpkin?”

“I’m gonna go with no, considering Pumpkin’s right there by the fireplace.” And sure enough, Mags turned to see her kitten had at some point, bounded into the room and found comfort beside the warm flames.

Then an even more frightening sound could be heard. Mags would describe it as heavy, a hefty thumping sound that was very different from something that could be explained away, like the light scurrying of a rat.

Harry would describe it as footsteps.

It was irrational. Mags couldn’t explain it. She didn’t know what making that sound, but she did know that the sound was frightening her. She couldn’t rationally chalk it up to the characteristic creaking of an old house or wood settling, the thumps were too loud, too sporadic. Logically, she knew she should use the flashlight on her phone and go straight to the sound source. But the fact of the matter is, she’s scared. 

Just when she began to steady her racing heart rate and begin to think she could work up the nerve to go investigate the sound, a sudden crash came from the other side of the room, causing her to yelp in surprise and clutch Harry’s arm in fear. One of the picture frames that Harry had hung on the wall fell on to the ground, the glass shattered from the impact. It just fell. Nothing to cause it, as if the material had literally leaped from the wall to its untimely death. “Fat load of good you are,” Mags glared at Pumpkin who, unbeknownst to the danger, was playing with a discarded bottle cap.

Harry put in quick work to shrug his sweater over his shoulders, and then taking care to ensure that Mags wasn’t too frightened. “Well, at least now you believe me?”

“Believe you?” Mags asked in disbelief, facing him “I more than believe you. I think, I think we should get outta here. Let’s just go stay at my place.” She frantically stood up, brushing her stray hairs from her face, trying to clear her mind so she could form rational thoughts. Harry stood up just as suddenly, standing next to her, holding her elbow and shoulder, pulling her towards him in a comforting hug. 

“We need to come up with a game plan,” she said, her breath slightly muffled as she nuzzles her face against his sweater clad chest. “I think it’s best if we just spend the night at my apartment. And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Harry questioned encouragingly. 

“We’re going to do whatever it takes. A cleansing. Research. Anything to un-haunt this house, because this shit? It’s scary.”

They both spared one last glance upwards, to where the sound was coming from, an array of emotions filling the room; frightened (Mags, because ghosts can’t exist, they just can’t. It transcends the rules of physical science!), agitated (Harry because how could he be so dense as to put Mags in danger, though he figures that once she sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her), and confused (Pumpkin, wondering why the humans were looking up when she was right here, as she softly mewls from the lack of attention).

_______________________________________________________________________

Day 6, October 29th, 1 day until Halloween.

The sun filtered in through the linen curtains, illuminating the white sheets beside her, warming her skin and giving her a bronze glow. Mags slowly peeled her eyes open, immediately noticing Harry’s absence. His side of the bed was empty, and Mags wasn’t sure how to feel. Was it really just a few hours ago that her world was shook by the presence of ghosts? If science wasn’t solid, then what else was there to rely on?

Once they got to her place, they were both too strung-out and tired to do anything. They shuffled under the covers and slept in her small bed, sleeping together in the most innocent way possible. The only touching was the hand holding that occurred under the bed, which although much less risqué than what happened last night had it not been for the potential ghost encounter, the thought of which still made Mags warm and blush. Stretching out her limbs and gathering her relentless hair into a manageable bun, she created an itinerary for herself. Bathroom first. Find Harry, second. Figure out what happened last night, third. Although she wasn’t so sure about the last one. Did she want to figure out the ominous sound they heard or figure out exactly what happened between her and Harry last night? All she knew was, it was way too early for this.

Once emerging from the bathroom, she tuned into the sounds of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen, immediately deducing Harry’s whereabouts. She knew it couldn’t possibly be Marisol, because she’d never be up this early, and she knew she had spent the night at Niall’s place.

His back was facing her, his shoulders moving as he poured batter into a frying pan, Pumpkin nuzzling against his ankles. Mags didn’t even know they owned a frying pan. Marisol and Mags mainly lived off of frozen dinners, take-outs, and Niall’s generous discounts at the café where he occasionally moonlights as a waiter.

“G’morning,” she croaked, alerting Harry to her presence. She cleared her throat and tried again, “Mornin’, Harry. What’s all this?” “I’m making pancakes,” He turned, greeting her drowsy appearance, his voice thickened with lack of use, guttural and raw. “Ran out to the convenience store this morning and grabbed some ingredients. Figured we could both use a hearty breakfast.”

Mags hummed in appreciation, rubbing a sweater-clad fist over her dreary eyes, sleepily offering help which Harry firmly denied and directed her to sit at the small kitchen table. “Are the pancakes chocolate chip?” “Is there any other way?” Harry responds, smiling warmly at her sleepy antics. He sets a plate of scrambled eggs and chocolate chip pancakes in front of her, placing a bottle of syrup within her reach without her having to ask.

Mags suddenly felt out her element. She wasn’t used to this kind of treatment with any guy she had ever been with, and she technically hadn’t even been with Harry. Was she meant to kiss him in appreciation? He was so tender in everything he did, always putting her needs and comfort first. The situation was foreign to her, so domestic and comfortable that it made her feel uncomfortable. “Um, thank you – It all looks delicious,” she finally managed to stammer out.

Harry carried his own plate of food in one hand, his other opening the fridge to grab a carton of orange juice. Witnessing how comfortable he seemed to be in her small apartment made her unnerved, but it was also exciting. Thrilling.

As he sat across from her, their eyes met once again. “I figure,” Harry began, “I mean, I think that we should probably talk about what happened last night. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Mags agreed, nervously wringing her fingers, “Good idea. It…scared me. Um, I didn’t like it.”

Harry’s face blanched for a moment before he smoothed his features into an expressionless façade. “You didn’t?”

“Of course, I didn’t, it was just so…I don’t know how to put it. It all happened so fast, one thing after the other. It’s a lot to process.

Harry nodded slowly, gently, as if Mags was fragile and he was handling the situation delicately, although she couldn’t figure why. “It is a lot. And it was a bit fast. Maybe we need to just slow down and figure out what it meant?” He suggested nervously.

Mags eyed him in confusion, his apprehensive demeanor puzzling her, as she continued speaking. “It was just so unexpected. I didn’t think that was going to happen when I went to your place last night. It was so awful.” Harry’s brows furrowed together, looking wounded, as he murmured, “I mean, well me neither but I don’t think it was necessarily a bad th-“ “What do you mean you weren’t expecting it?” Mags probed, pausing to chew her scrambled eggs, “it certainly seems like you were positive that it would happen.”

Harry’s face, despite his efforts, flashed with hurt. “Well, I mean, I hoped it would happen but of course I wasn’t expecting anything. I just –” Abandoning his food, he rubbed his hands over his curls, then dropped them to rest against his knees, palms up as if pleading, “Look, I really, really like you and obviously it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way but I really thought - ”

“Who says I don’t feel the same way?” Mags questioned in confusion, wondering if perhaps Harry, as cute as he was, might’ve been a few screws short. Guess people truly can’t have it all.  

Meanwhile, Harry’s own face contorted in confusion, his voice borderline hysterical. “What do you mean who says, you says! I mean, you just said that you didn’t like what happened last night.”

“Right,” Mags nodded empathetically, “The noise we heard really scared me and I think it’s quite normal to not like the fact you have an actual fucking ghost in your house.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Did you think I was talking about, whatever happened between us?” Mags clarified, gesturing at their bodies. When Harry offered a sheepish look in response, Mags smiled with fondness, putting her fork down on her plate. “You’re silly. Let me be clear. Ghosts? Bad. Harry and Mags? Good. I’m not sure exactly what happened between us last night, but I like you. I think it should happen again, minus the paranormal encounter. Not just the, erm, the touching part. The diner part. The talking part too. We can table that for now and come back to it when we aren’t in fear of lurking ghosts. We can figure that part out together.” The relief that washed over Harry couldn’t have been more evident. “Oh thank god, I’m so happy to hear you say that,” and when Harry was happy, Mags couldn’t help but think that the sun was trapped within him, warmth, comfort, and blinding brightness and all. “And um, what about the other thing? The ghost thing?” Mags beamed at him, at the 6-foot boy that towers in her small apartment but looks over at all five feet of her with concern and care, before replying, “We can figure that part out together too. I have a game plan.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After the tenderness and confusion of their morning breakfast, Harry and Mags got dressed for the day, each renewed with a determination to solve this ghost problem of theirs once and for all. It wasn’t just Harry’s problem anymore. Harry’s safety and happiness were now Mags’ priority as well. Cleaning up and getting dressed took a little longer than usual, as they spared moments to steal glances and accidental touches. By the time they made it out of her apartment, the sun was brilliantly shining in the sky, for once the skies clear of any clouds, and it was noon.

Mags truly did have an anti-ghost plan. And she intended to put it to use before tomorrow. It was as she explained to Harry, that tomorrow was Halloween, and everyone knows that on All Hallows Eve, the world between the paranormal and normal collided. Her extensive repertoire of horror movies led her to confidently assert that the if the dead were to roam the earth, then Halloween would be the best night to so do. She figured that now since science and everything she’s ever known has changed; she might as well rely on literature to guide them through this ordeal.

“So, first on our agenda is to seek out a priest,” Harry commented, eyes squinting at the sun, hand firmly holding hers. “Which church should we go to?” “Askin’ the wrong person here,” Mags chuckled while gesturing to herself, “Nearest mosque, I could help ya with. But church?” “Right,” he said, blushing despite her obvious joking tone, “Well, I guess we’ll have to trust google?”

Finding the church was easy enough. Getting the minister to believe that they weren’t pulling a prank was a little trickier. After much clarification and pleading, they left the church armed with some information.

“I dunno about you, but this bottle of holy water has me feeling a bit indestructible,” Harry joked, wagging the holy water tauntingly. Mags owns hands clutched the pewter candlestick holders and candles the church had generously donated to them. Though they had initially hoped for the church to interfere with their dilemma, the resources and tips they provided would just have to do. “Although,” Harry said, raising his eyebrows, “I must say, I’m surprised.” “Why? ‘Cuz I thought of such a brilliant plan?” “No. I’m shocked that you were able to last that entire trip to the church without swearing even once.” Mags opened her mouth, feigning offence, before shoving him. “So, what’s next?” Harry questions, after composing his laughter, “A psychic?”

“A medium,” Mags corrected.

“Oh, I didn’t know there was a difference,” Harry admitted good-naturedly.

“Me neither,” Mags confessed, but google sure did.

As they followed the GPS directions to the location of where the medium was located, Harry had another question. “How’d you pick this medium? Does she specialize in ghosts and exorcisms?” “Hmm?” She said, looking up, “Oh no, she just had the best Yelp rating.” She scrolls through her phone, thumbing through the device before presenting it to Harry. “And, she’s got a Halloween special going on right now. 50% off for her services. Pretty crafty of me, huh?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The medium, a woman named Clair LeMadeline, had looked relatively normal. Her red hair curled into define ringlets and her eyes were a piercing blue. She was wearing a simple pea blouse and black slacks. The only thing that was even considerably odd about her appearance was her green eyeshadow, bold and unnaturally glittery. She was a stark contrast from what Mags was expecting, which was a woman, possibly raven haired, with a crystal ball in a dark room with thick purple drapes.

Even more so, she had hoped the woman would be able to help them out a bit more. For someone who claimed to have a unique ability to hover between two worlds and a connection with spirits without a physical body, she wasn’t really helpful.

Mags recalled the only bit of information that was slightly useful. Clair had taken Harry’s hands into her own, hoping to get a ‘read’ on his aura.

“Ah yes,” she had said, her sharp nails outlining the lines on Harry’s palm, “I’m sensing something here. I see that recently in your life, you’ve come upon some suffering.”

“Yes!” Harry fervently nodded, with Mags reservedly watching from his side.

“Your future,” Clair continued melodramatically, her eyes tightly shut as she focused, “it’s blurry. Unclear. I see, red liquid. Lots and lots of red. It’s staining your shirt, dripping onto your shoes, there’s so much red.”

Harry’s face pales, dread overcoming him, as he frantically tightens his hold on the medium’s own hands. “Is it blood?”

“Hard to say, but my best guess is that it is indeed blood. Yes, I can see that. And, you’ve suffered a great loss. I also see here that you’re a widower.”

“Erm, no,” Harry confessed, pulling his hands back slightly, “I’ve never even been married. Way off base.”

The medium had looked slightly put out with that comment, “Well, I never. Surely you must’ve been married. With those dimples and a body like that, you’ve probably had your fair share of wives. You don’t have to lie to impress your little girly over here,” she harrumphed, gesturing towards Mags.

“Okaaay,” Mags announced, offering the medium a tight polite smile, “I think we’re done here.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“That was a waste of time,” Harry groaned. “She was obviously a scam artist. Also, I’m pretty sure she was hitting on me.” He glanced at his watch and groaned even more audibly, “And we’re running out of daylight. Halloween is tomorrow. What are we gonna do?”

“That woman certainly was…a lot of things,” Mags said, carefully choosing her words, “But she was surprisingly helpful.” Harry brows furrowed, his face distorting in disbelief. “Think about what she called you,” Mags explained, answering his unasked question. “She said that you were a widower.” “And you believed her?” He explained, “Mags, I’ve never – “ Huffing slightly, she interrupted his speech, “Okay, no. Obviously, I’m not an idiot. But that just got me thinking. Didn’t you say Bertha was a widow? Do you know anything about her husband? Maybe we can look into his death. Maybe his spirit was awoken by the Ouija board and it’s restless for some reason and unless we help him with his unfinished business, he can’t pass over to the other side.” “You’re a genius,” Harry commented, which prompted Mags to thank him and inform him with sincerity that it was all because she watched a lot of Buzzfeed Unsolved. “I don’t know much about her husband, but I know how we can find out more.”

And that’s how Harry and Mags found themselves standing on the steps outside the town’s public library. Harry’s idea was brilliant, Mags had to admit. The town newspaper always printed the obituaries for residents that passed. Older editions of the newspaper could be accessed using the microfiche. Even more promising was that if Bertha’s late husband had passed under unusual circumstances, the paper was sure to have done a story over it. But even with a great idea put into action, and their hopes and spirits renewed, Mags couldn’t help the nauseous pit growing in her stomach.

As they embarked up the steps, Harry looked over at Mags in concern. “You okay there? You look a little green.”

“Hmm?” She feigned ignorance, “No, I’m fine.” Harry opened the door, ushering her inside before stepping into the heated building. “Must’ve been something I ate.” “My pancakes have you feeling nauseous?” Harry exclaimed in concern.

Oops. Right, Mags had forgotten that the only thing she’d eaten today was Harry’s cooking. This was why she hated lying – she was bad at it.

“Hush, Harry,” is the route she decided to go with, “We’re in a library. We don’t wanna disturb the other patrons.” She gestured to the room, mentally groaning when she saw that the library was jam-packed with three other people, a young girl and her mother were fiddling on the computers, and an old man that was sleeping on one of the armchairs. Or, at least Mags hoped he was sleeping. One would think the library would be more popular on a Friday night.

Harry shot her another concerning look but chose to drop the matter, for now. In fear of being shushed again, he gestured to the circulation help desk, indicating that they should ask one of the library assistants where they could find the catalogued newspapers. As they approached the desk, Mags legs felt like they were heavy lead as she dragged them across the carpeted floor. She just needed an excuse to slip away for five minutes and then this upcoming crisis could be averted.

She stopped in her tracks, spinning around to face Harry. “I, um, need to go to the bathroom. It’s an emergency. Not that you asked,” She nervously chuckled. “Anyways,” she pushed Harry’s back towards the help desk, “Why don’t you ask where we can find the newspapers while I’m gone and I’ll just meet you there and – ” “Magnolia?” The voice came from behind her, just as smoky and honeyed as she remembered.

She froze in her tracks. This cannot be happening. I’m a good person she thought, I fast during Ramadan. I try to be nice to others. I’m fairly sure that I pay all my taxes. Why is this happening to me? Would it be too late for her to make a run for it? She could just tell Harry it was an emergency and then meet him back at his house once he acquired the information.

Just as she began to inch towards the exit, the voice called out again. “Magnolia, that is you! I thought it was. I’d recognize you anywhere. ” Ignoring Harry’s look of confusion, she turned around reluctantly. She looked at the other boy, his dark hair perfectly styled atop his head, not a strand out of place. His cheekbones sharp and proudly protruding, his lips slightly turned into a familiar smile. Unlike her, his brown skin didn’t seem to have a problem with dulling under florescent lights, as he was golden and glowing. One tatted arm reached out to embrace her in a hug, pulling her softly against his chest, before pulling back to get a look at her. “You look good,” he professed, looking at her intently form head to toe, “Beautiful like always.” From her peripheral, she could see that Harry certainly didn’t like that, if his body language was any indicator as he crossed his arms and shifted his stance to stand closers to Mags.

“Zayn,” she greeted, trying to modulate her voice and stifle her feelings of panic. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” “At the library?” Zayn questioned, “Where I work?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” She nervously answered. Just as she was going to grab Harry’s arm and steer them away from the upcoming train wreck, Harry himself piped up. “I’m sorry. Mags hasn’t introduced us. Who are you?”

Zayn looked at Harry, as if he just registered that Mags wasn’t alone. “This is Zayn,” Mags answered quickly, “He’s my –”

“I’m Magnolia’s ex-boyfriend,” Zayn interrupted, reaching over to shake Harry’s hand, muscles tightening, jaw clenched, “She and I used to date.”

“He knows what ex means,” Mags hissed.

“Oh really?” Harry responded, his face unreadable, “Funny. Mags actually hasn’t even mentioned you.” His emphasis on her preferred nickname was evident to both Zayn and Mags, because Harry was as subtle as horse. “I’m Harry.”

Mags, despite the train wreck happening before her very eyes, was relieved that Harry introduced himself. She didn’t know what title she would’ve given him. She didn’t even know what they were. They were in some weird limbo until this ghost mess was past them. What would she have said? Harry piping up saved her from the verbal onslaught that would’ve been sure to follow. Hi, yes Zayn, my ex-boyfriend who broke my heart, this is Harry, a boy that I almost slept with and really want to sleep with but haven’t yet because I was cock-blocked by a ghost. Anyways, can you point us to the non-fiction section?

“Um,” Mags spoke, breaking the palpable tension, “While we have you here Zayn, we could actually use your help with some questions.”

Ignoring Harry’s disgruntled expression and Zayn’s self-satisfied smirk, she continued on. “Aren’t you doing your senior thesis on like witchcraft or something of that nature?”

“It’s on magical realism and occult fiction,” He clarified, before giving her a sly smile, warmer and more comfortable than his smirk, looking more like the Zayn she knew. “Y’know, all that haram and Jinn stories that used to bother the hell out of ya.”

Despite not wanting to, she couldn’t help but smile in return. “Right,” she warmed at the mention of their insider, “Well, we could use your help. For your research, did you come across anything about how to perform an exorcism on a house that’s possessed by a ghost?”

Zayn, to his credit, didn’t bat an eye at her odd question. He was used to Mags’ antics. “Yeah, from what I’ve read, the best bet is to light some sage. Ask the ghosts what they want and try to get them what they need, and they’ll leave.” He paused as if he truly registered what he just asked her, and then eyed Harry suspiciously. “But I know you. You don’t believe in that kinda stuff.”

“It’s nothing,” Mags lied, wanting to end this conversation, like, five minutes ago. “Can you tell us where the newspaper archives are? Ones from like 10 years ago?”

Heading towards the corner of the library that Zayn pointed them to, Harry and Mags walked in silence. Unable to take it anymore, Mags spoke up. “So, that was Zayn. My ex-boyfriend. But you already know that.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Harry assured her. And it seemed like he truly meant that sentiment, his voice unwavering and genuine He didn’t seem the slightest bit accusatory, no hint of sarcasm lining his tone, which was so unlike what she was used to when she was dating Zayn. Not that she was dating Harry, but she and Zayn had a knack for being able to get under each other’s skin. Had the roles been reversed, Zayn wouldn’t have let that interaction go, hounding Mags for more answers to impossible questions until they’d inevitably get into another one of their infamous fights. Zayn was an English major, through and through, envious and passionate. He felt deeply as an artist and fought just as dramatically too.

It was the fact that Harry was nothing like Zayn that encouraged her to share. “No, I want to explain,” She insisted, as they carried a stack of newspapers to a table, ready to dive into their town’s obituaries. “Zayn and I, well, he and I dated for a good while. It was one of those things where, when it was good, it was really good, y’know? But when it was bad? It was awful.”

Harry encouragingly nodded, his green eyes looking to her in sincerity, letting her tell the story at her own pace. “Well,” Mags exhaled, “It was serious. One of the most serious relationships I’ve ever had. But it didn’t work out. Obviously. We were just too different. We both retreated when we were hurt and angry instead of talking things out. And it wasn’t just his fault, it was both of ours. It wasn’t anything dramatic or serious. We just broke up because we never really tried our best, never gave our best effort to fix our problems.” She recalled the months after the end of their relationship, Mags tried her best to hold it together, but it really did wound her. “The break-up still sucked though,” she admitted. She may act collected and composed, but when she does let someone into her heart, it’s different. If it wasn’t for Niall and Marisol, she wasn’t sure if she’d have gotten through it.

Harry placed his hand atop of hers, taking care to look into her eyes. “He’s the guy that broke your heart, isn’t he? The reason that you’re scared to be vulnerable with someone.”

Mags kept her gaze on the stack of newspaper, unable to meet his eyes, wordlessly nodding in affirmation.

“Well, thank you for sharing that with me,” Harry said earnestly, reaching over to put a finger under Mags chin, turning her face so they were looking at each other. “Thanks for being vulnerable with me.” Mags raised her gaze, smiling at the kindness of the boy who sat across from her, unsure how to respond.

She needn’t worry though because she didn’t have to reply. “Anyways,” he continued, “We have a ghost to get rid of. Let’s get to looking through this decade’s worth of obituaries.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As they started to head back to the house, Mags was a ball of nerves, filled with anticipation. The trip to the library had been a success. Mags was able to find Bertha’s late husband, Tom’s, obituary. It simply stated that he passed due to a head contusion, with no information on how it occurred. News must’ve been slow that week because Harry then found the real treasure: an investigative article that revealed more information about Tom’s death. They discovered that Tom and Bertha had gotten into an argument, over something silly as she had to remind him multiple times to check the circuit breaker in the basement. Tom had begrudgingly gone to do so when one the wires in the breakers shocked him with a small current of electricity. The electrical shock didn’t kill him, but it did surprise him enough so that he stepped back, falling over and hitting his head on the edge of his workbench. The death was quick and painless, the article assured readers, but Mags still felt awful while reading it. Poor Tom, she thought, and poor Bertha. Even more so, it was a bit unsettling to Harry that a death had occurred in the house in which he was currently living.

As they had prepared to leave the library earlier, armed with knowledge and a secure plan to conduct their exorcism, Zayn had caught up with them, giving Mags a bottle of sage that he had lying around in his office that he acquired during his thesis research.

Now, she and Harry trekked back to the house, loaded with goodies that would hopefully guarantee an end to the paranormal activities; bottle of holy water, pewter candlesticks, and a bottle of sage, not to mention everything that they learned throughout the day. As she mentally recounted the day’s hectic and odd events, she voiced her thoughts. “Wasn’t that medium funny? The things she so-called predicted about you were so wild.” Mags laughed, brandishing her speech with air quotes.

“Heh, yeah,” Harry said, uncharacteristically without elaboration. There was a small pause, and then, “Actually, she wasn’t all wrong.” “How’s that?” Mags inquired, wondering how much longer their walk would take. She was so ready to deal with the ghost. Especially now since she knew it was Tom and he probably didn’t mean them any harm.

“I actually, uh, well you know how she said I suffered a great loss?” Harry reached over to rub the back of his neck before continuing, “Well. She wasn’t wrong about that. My uh, my dad passed away. Not too long ago really.” “Harry,” Mags said, concern and sympathy and sadness all intertwined in her voice, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“We don’t,” Harry agreed, but then he looked at her. And if Mags had to guess, the look in his eyes showed that he felt comfortable with her. Safe. “But I want to. My dad was an okay guy, not the best husband but a good father. He passed quickly – cancer, but not painlessly. It was tough for my sister and mom. Tough for me too.” He cleared his throat, sneaking a peek at Mags before looking down at his feet. “I just, I wanted you to know that about me. I like sharing things with you. You’re easy to talk to.”

Usually, Mags was quick to stick her foot in her mouth. Her special talent of saying the wrong thing reared its ugly head when it was most unwanted and in the most awkward situations. But surprisingly, that didn’t happen this time. Mags took one look at how exposed and open Harry was, how he shared his sorrow and confided in her, and she knew exactly what she wanted to say. “He must’ve been a great father,” Mags noted, “To have helped raise someone as wonderful like you.”

They shared a smile. A small one that meant that whatever this was, whatever was happening between them, it was going to be big. The shared smile revealed that there were wonders and adventures yet to come between them. But it would all have to wait until after tonight, when they would finally leave Harry with a ghost-free home.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Harry unlocked the door to his house, they didn’t waste time in removing their shoes or coats and got straight to work. Harry began to burn the sage and Mags set the candle around the room, lighting the wicks and igniting flames. They worked in silence, the magnitude of what’s to come weighing heavily on their shoulders. When finished with their respective duties, they met back at the center.

Harry’s grip on the bottle of holy water tightened. “You don’t have to do this, y’know? I won’t hold it against you.” He was offering her an out, not wanting to put her in any unnecessary danger.

Mags rolled her eyes, before reaching over to grasp his free hand. “I’m not that easy to get rid of. I’m not going anywhere.”

Just then, the awful thudding and heavy footsteps could be heard from above. It was loud, the steps so heavy that it caused bits of wood shavings to fall from the ceiling. It was now or never.

“Hello?” Mags called out, her voice trembling at the unknown. “Is that you Tom? I mean Mr – “ “Bleakman,” Harry helpfully supplied.

Mags gulped, “Mr. Bleakman. If that’s you, can you give us a sign?”

Was it her imagination, or had the room suddenly gotten colder? The inside of the house seemed to be even more freezing that the harsh winds outside. It was chilling. Goosebumps began to dot her arms and an uneasy feeling settling around her.  She held her coat closer to her exposed neck, her grip tightening in Harry’s intertwined hand.

“Mr. Bleakman?” Now it was Harry giving it a go. “If you can hear me, I just want you to know. I’m Harry. Your wife, Bertha, rented this house to me. She’s a real sweet woman.” “They play Bingo together,” Mags offered.

“We did. We played a lot of Bingo together and – “ “Which isn’t a euphemism by the way!” Mags exclaimed, before mouthing an apology to Harry when he shot her an exasperated look.

“Right. Well, Mr. Bleakman. Tom. I was hoping that you could stop haunting this house. The thing with the Ouija board the other day? It wasn’t very cool of me and I won’t do it again.” The thudding didn’t stop. The cold air didn’t seem to warm. In fact, things began to worsen. Mags and Harry looked around just as the lights began to flicker, casting an ominous lighting around the room. Just as suddenly, the lights went out all together and everything was dead silent. In the dim lighting, with the candles their only source of light, Mags eyes struggled to adjust. A chill ran down her spine, causing her to tremble. She clumsily reached out for Harry, having let go of his hand earlier, and then let out an audible sigh of relief when his hand found hers instead, squeezing it once as reassurance.

The thumping sound stopped. The only sound that could be heard was their shallow breathing that seemed deafening in an otherwise silent room. They waited, breath baited, for something to happen. It couldn’t be that easy Mags thought. There’s no way.

And though she didn’t want to be, she was right. No sooner has she mentally expressed that sentiment that there was a loud smashing sound that came from the right of her, followed by a loud bang of something crashing to the ground. She screamed, backing up into Harry, who immediately pulled her behind him, trying to shield her from whatever danger that lurked. Before they could even question what caused that smashing sound, a sudden gust of cold air could be felt, causing Mags to shudder and simultaneously, and all the flames in the candles went out. They were trapped in pitch darkness.

The front door slammed open, and the pair whirled around to look at the entrance. A hooded figure could be seen, face hidden, a blunt object in his hand.

This time, both Mags and Harry screamed bloody murder.

The figure screamed back.

A voice thick with an Irish accent resounded in the room. “Why’re ya screaming?! It’s just me!”

“Niall?” Mags questioned desperately, while Harry shouted, “What’s wrong with you? You don’t just bust into someone’s home like that!” The latter’s voice sounding suspiciously scared in a falsetto.

As if this was a playwright and not reality, the lights flickered back on, almost on cue. The lights revealed that it was indeed Niall, as he pulled down the hood from his jacket and stepped into the room. The large object in his hand was just a scroll of paper, rolled up into a tight cylindrical shape.

Mags took long strides to cross the room and stand before Niall before not so lightly pounding him on the arm repeatedly. “What is the matter with you?” “Ouch!” The Irishman exclaimed, wincing and rubbing him tender arm. “I’m here because I’ve found the answer to Harry’s problem.” He was met with unimpressed stares. “Yikes, tough crowd. Look, why don’t you guys take a seat?”

Mags and Harry shared a look, and then walked over to the couch, sitting close to each other, practically on the same cushion, not wanting to be apart after what they’d just witnessed. Once settled, all eyes were on Niall, who physically claimed the center of the room.

“I have found the solution to this haunting,” Niall began. Mags noticed that he was using the same rambunctious, haughty voice he employed when he had to present a subject in class over something that he hadn’t done the reading on, but she ignored calling him out as he actually had piqued her interest. Could he truly have the answer to stop all this madness?

Harry hunched over and ran his palms across his face, and Mags instinctively reached out to rub his shoulders comfortingly. “Oooh! When’d this happen?” Niall asked excitedly, pointing at them.

Mags eyes just flashed in irritation.

“Right!” Niall exclaimed, as if he suddenly remembered he was in the middle of something important. “The solution.”

He began to pace the length of the living room rug, his hands tied behind his back, the rain droplets from his jacket dripping onto the floor. “I’ve been thinking long and hard about everything that Harry had said about this house. All the things that spooked him. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I did some digging of my own.”

He bent over and unfolded the roll of paper, and Mags and Harry reached out to hold opposite edges to keep it straightened.

“Erm, what exactly are we looking at here?” Harry questioned, his head cocked to the side trying to make sense of the white lines and measurements adorning the navy-blue page.

“I went to the town hall and asked for a copy of this house’s floorplan. You mentioned it was old, Harry, something in Bertha’s family for a while so I figured they would have it. If you look closely, right about here,” he pointed to a section on the paper of what Mags deduced was the living room that they were currently in, “that’s the room we are in right now. And if you follow the measurements of the floorboards, you’ll see that they don’t quite align.”

From Harry’s squinted eyes, it was clear he hadn’t caught on yet. But Mags had. The paper showed the square footage, measurements, and scales; Numbers! She was back in familiar territory! She excitedly traced the area that Niall pointed out. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered, “This bitch is built crooked.”

“What?” Harry exclaimed, exasperated at being out of the loop. “What is this even showing me?” Niall seemed gleeful at Mag’s realization, validating his findings. “The house, while structurally sound, was built crooked. The plot of land it’s on is uneven. The left dipping lower than the right. Which is why sometimes,” Niall threw his arm out to point at the right wall, splattering Mags and Harry’s faces with more water droplets that flew off his sleeve, “the painting from that wall falls off periodically.” They all looked to where he pointed. The sound Mags and Harry had heard moments ago, the loud banging in the darkness, had been a picture frame that fell off the wall. That’s all it was. Mags felt just the tiniest bit of air fill back into her lungs in relief.

“B-but,” Harry nodded his head side to side in apparent puzzlement, “But how does that explain the lights? We – “He nodded his head at Mags, “We found out that Tom, Bertha’s husband, had died while messing with the breaker in the basement. The flickering lights has to be his ghost.” Niall only patted Harry’s head in response. “Oh, you silly lad! If only that were true. In actuality, Bertha forgot to tell you that in the winter months, the house needs a scheduled appointment with the town’s electrician. The house is old, the wiring is faulty, and it needs a nice tweak now and then in the cold weather.”

Niall stood up once again with a flourish, one finger raised and poised in the air, “And how would I know that? Fret not Harry,” to which Harry deeply exhaled in frustration. “I looked up Bertha, found her granddaughter on Instagram. She’s a fittie by the way, has a boyfriend though. Real shame.” A swift kick to his shins from Mags got him to stop his harmless flirting and get back on track. “Right, so I reached out to her. She relayed that information to me. She also pointed out something else that she thought we’d ought to know.”

He treads to the other side of the room, to the wall that has four large windowpanes covered by thick, velvet drapes. Grabbing the curtain from one corner, he peels it back, loudly exclaiming “Ta-daa!”, his hands outstretched as if he was presenting something fascinating to them, a magician in front of an audience.

Eyes blinked back at him. “There’s nothing even there!” Harry exasperatedly noted.

“What?” Niall did a double take, and then chuckled to himself. “Oops, wrong window.” He repeated his same dramatic motions, this time uncovering a window with a large, crack on it. On the corner, was a missing shard of glass. “Bertha had been meaning to get this fixed. The neighbor’s kid accidentally threw a baseball through the window. She got really forgetful towards the end, according to her granddaughter, which is why she whisked her away.”

Mags nodded excitedly, “That’s what’s been causing the drafts.” She turned to Harry, eyes glowing with relief, “That’s why it always so damn cold in here. Your thermostat can’t compete with that.”

“Hopefully the flickering lights will offset how high your electivity bill is going to be,” Niall joked.

Harry seemed unconvinced. “What about that smell then, huh? It smells something dreadful in the kitchen and I’ve cleaned the place spic and span.”

Mags turned to Niall in wonder, looking at him in a whole new light, as if he was an all knowing being that held all the answers.

“Follow me,” Niall said, leading the trio into the kitchen while continuing his monologue. “I called up our dear friend Louis. Hard guy to keep track of, that lad, with the time zones and all. I told him about the smell, and wouldn’t you know it? Our friend remembered the fact that when he was here, he had drunkenly tried to make himself scrambled eggs for breakfast when you,” he pointed accusingly at Harry, “were passed out on the couch. What he actually did was drop an egg on the ground. In his drunken state, he simply just kicked the egg yolk under the fridge, like ice, and promised to clean it later.”

Niall leaned against the fridge, arms crossed dramatically. “As we know, no follow-through that one. He forgot to clean his mess. So that smell you smelt? The scent of rotten eggs? It actually was a rotten egg. Disgusting but true.”

“I –” Harry couldn’t believe it. Gently pushing Niall away from the fridge, he knelt down on one knee, sinking onto the cool tile. Sliding his phone out of his front pocket, he turned on his flashlight app and shined in under the fridge. Niall and Mags also leaned in to get a closer look. Audible gasps could be heard from all three of them. There, under the dusty and sticky tile bottom of the fridge, wedged between a dust ball and an expired coupon, was a broken, rotten egg.

Mags pinched her nose, unable to take the scent anymore. “Niall, you’re an absolute genius,” she complimented nasally.

Before Niall could bask in his glory for long, Harry interrupted once again. “You’ve explained the lights. The painting falling off. The cold. The smell. But,” his eyes bleary and red, his arms flailing in frustration “what about the sounds coming from the ceiling? The footsteps?”

He turned around and looked at Mags frantically for support. “Mags heard it too! The night that she stayed over and we – um, she just heard it too!” while Mags nodded feverishly in the background.

Niall looked away, breaking eye contact. “That’s the only part I can’t explain,” the blonde confessed, scratching his scalp. “But the blueprints show this house has an attic. Let’s all go search up there together.”

Emboldened by Niall’s other explanations, everyone geared up for their excursion, which really meant that everyone had their phones in hand, flashlights shining. Once again, Niall lead the way, stopping in the middle of the hallway. It was no wonder Harry had never noticed it before. There, on the ceiling, was a subtle outline of an attic door and a very small chain dangling. It was so high up that Niall and Harry took turns hopping and trying to reach the latch, while Mags didn’t even try, watching the boys struggle because she know her attempts would be futile. Eventually Harry was able to grab ahold of the chain and pull the attic door open, as the wooden steps fell along with it. Harry looked back at Mags, feeling a surge of affection for this girl that was willing to risk everything for him, and then looked at Niall, the friend who jumped through hoops to help a friend. Inspired by the love and support around him, Harry took the lead, climbing up the steps as Niall and Mags respectively followed.

“Please don’t be a creepy man that’s been hoarding and hiding in Harry’s attic for shelter,” Mags whispered, climbing the last steps “Because I WILL die of shock, and that’s a promise.”

Niall and Harry helped her up, and she stood upright. They each flashed their lights at different corners of the attic, trying to find something amiss among the dusty boxes of forgotten belongings and storage.

“Wait,” Harry whispered, pointing in the opposite corner. “Look over there. Something’s glowing.”

And sure enough, Mags saw it too. Something was glowing and moving. Two little round balls of light.

“I think,” Harry began, taking a step closer to the source when all Mags wanted to do was drag him back to safety, “Oh wow, it is.” “Is what?” Niall exclaimed, unable to handle the suspense.

“It’s a family of possums!” Harry cried in relief, “It’s just a mama possum and her babies. It’s not a ghost!”

“Awww,” Niall cooed.

The release that everyone felt was almost palpable, the relief tangible. There was no ghost after all! No otherworldly being! All of this was caused by a forgetful old woman, a drunk friend, and a family of critters.

Mags could almost cry tears of joy. Science was valid. Her whole wasn’t flipped upside down. Numbers were important, her beliefs restored. Rationale could explain everything unusual that had occurred within the confines of this house. Without being too dramatic, she could firmly declare that once again, her life had meaning.

She took a few minutes to herself to truly appreciate that there was no haunting before finally speaking up. “I hate to ruin the moment,” Mags said as Harry and Niall admired the critters, “but mama possums are very territorial and will attack if she feels threatened.” When neither Harry nor Niall made any intentions to move, she added, “And possums are at high risk to carry strains of rabies.”

“And that’s our cue!” Harry quipped, as Niall vehemently added, “Yup!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Day 7: October 31st, Halloween!!!

Mags beamed with content, relaxing every muscle in her body as she laid on the bookshop’s couch, her head resting on Harry’s warm thigh, his face partially obscured by a book, reading snippets from the murder-mystery novel she had started but never got to finish given how hectic the past few days had been. His other free hand was draped across her shoulder and chest, and Mags divided her attention, taking turns to hold his hand and running her fingers across his forearm, despite Harry’s constant claim that it tickled.

It was Halloween, the day that she had first anticipated because she loved all things horror and it was her favorite holiday, and then the day that she had started to dread when she believed that Harry’s house was being haunted by a ghost. Now, she was back to loving her favorite holiday again, the world was ruled by science, and everything felt right. And it truly did. Ever since last night, when Niall was able to demystify all of the strange occurrences, Mags felt lighter than she had ever before. She let out an exhale as she relaxed into her position, nuzzling closer to Harry as his low voice rumbled, reading aloud to her, and embraced the pleasant sound.

She was so comfortable, so relaxed, she felt could fall asleep right here and now. A little nap was well-deserved at this point, she decided as she closed her eyes contently, considering the hell she’d been through this past week.

“Do not fall asleep,” a voice demanded.

She inhaled deeply in frustration, peeling one eye open to see Liam passing by. He eyed her, irritated, though Mags knew he wasn’t truly annoyed. “You’re still on the clock, y’know?” Liam said, “Just checking in to make sure you’re all set to close up.” He paused to nod at Harry in greeting, because apparently it was really a small world and Mags had found out that Liam and Harry actually knew each from freshman year history class.

Mags sat up, running her fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it. “I don’t understand why you always ask me that when you never offer to actually help close up.”

Liam laughed in response. “I’m nothing if not consistent.” He reached over to give Harry one of those boy handshakes that would always elude Mags. Why couldn’t boys just say goodbye normally? “Anyways, I’ll see you at Harry’s place tonight. I’ve got a wicked costume planned,” he concluded as a farewell.

It wasn’t hard for Niall to convince Harry that he should host a Halloween party at his house, to celebrate the fact that he wasn’t haunted, but also because it was a great excuse to bring everyone together and get drunk. Mags, always eager to wear costumes, agreed with his sentiments and thus, they were hosting a last-minute Halloween party with no invitations spared.

Mags twisted her body to face Harry, his eyes already on her. “I probably should get up and start to close up.” She straightens herself up, ready to check inventory and cash out the register. “Before another student comes rushing in last minute again. Or God forbid, an English major,” she jokes.

“Um,” Harry treaded cautiously, “You know I’m an English major, right?” “You’re a what?” Mags eyes widen in shock. “Nope. No way.” She shakes her head vigorously. “Absolutely not.”

Harry smirks in amusement. “Unfortunately, yes. Sorry to break it to you, hon.”

Mags froze, flabbergasted. She guessed she really did have a type. Karma really was a bitch. “I’m so glad you decided to reveal your major after the fact,” she joked, “Or else it might’ve been a deal breaker.”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, changing the subject, “Don’t forget! I’ll need to rush home and put on my costume before meeting you at the house.” “Ooh,” Harry resounded in excitement, “Can you pretty please bring Pumpkin with you? I haven’t seen her all day.” She rolled her eyes in response. “I’m beginning to think you’re only dating me for my cat,” she joked amicably.

And that is what they were doing. Dating. As soon as all the ghost nonsense was put to rest, she and Harry finally had the opportunity to address everything that happened between them. Though their coming together was unconventional, the feelings were real and strong, and they decided to give their relationship a try. Mags felt good about it. They way Harry made her feel made her think they were in it for the long haul and she was excited about their future holds.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Adjusting her halo that fell askew when she threw her head back to take a shot, Mags looked around the kitchen in happiness, the kind that fills your heart when you’re in a party, surrounded by close friends and loved ones, loud music thumping from a distance and filled with good vibes. Alcohol definitely plays a part too.

Suddenly, two tattooed arms reached out to envelop her, careful to avoid smushing her wings. She leaned her weight against Harry’s chest, allowing him to support her, as she turned her face slightly towards him. He lowered his head to her ears, his breath tickling her skin and making her blood rush. “You look so good,” Harry murmured, “I’ve got half a mind to call the cops on my own party so they can kick everyone out. Want you all to myself.”

Despite rolling her eyes, Mags couldn’t help the pleased smile that snaked across her face. “Easy there, I’m spending the night anyway.” She turned around so that her wings were no longer a barrier between them, wrapping her arms around Harry from the front, her face against his chest, as he placed his head affectionally atop hers, the wisps on her Halo tickling his cheeks.

Mags had chosen an angel as her last-minute Halloween costume, mainly because it was an easy outfit, but also because the white contrasted well with her golden-brown skin and this particular outfit did wonders for her boobs. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, if the look he gave her when she first made her entrance was any indication. On the other hand, Harry had chosen to dress as a devil. Or at least, a very lackluster devil. He had a red sweater on earlier, but the warmth from the house crowded with bodies caused him to abandon that hours ago, and he was left with a white t-shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of devil horns hastily placed atop his mass of curly hair. It was mysterious the way the world worked. Just a week ago, she imagined that on Halloween she would be at home, watching the Scream movie series with Niall, Marisol, and Pumpkin, with a bag of Halloween candy to pass out to trick or treaters. And now, she was celebrating her favorite holiday with her friends and her boyfriend with a fun party.

As the Monster Mash played deafeningly in the background, and they were jostled from people entering and exiting the kitchen to get punch, they swayed to their own silent music, content to be lost in their world for just a moment.

A moment that was interrupted by Niall. “Seriously Harry? You were supposed to grab Mags so we could play charades!” To which Harry muttered an insincere apology. Niall turned to Mags, “It’s a Halloween version of charades. I know how competitive you get. You and Harry can be on the same team. It’ll be a true test of your love!” He declared, his speech slow and slurred.

Mags was game. “Oh, we are so gonna win!” She declared, already leaning into her competitive streak.

“Great!” Niall declared enthusiastically, his arms sloppily flailing in excitement. Unfortunately for him, and for Harry, Niall had forgotten about the cup he was holding and just emptied its entire content onto Harry. His white shirt was completely stained with red punch.

Niall avoided Harry’s harsh glare as Mags slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Oops! I’ll just let ya take care of that before our game,” he announced, adjusting his fake leprechaun beard before hurriedly making his exit.

“Great,” Harry groaned, dabbing his shirt with a paper towel in vain, “I have to go change my shirt.” Unexpectedly, Mags was hit with a sudden realization. “Oh my gosh!” She exclaimed in a tone of wonder. “You’re completely covered in red liquid.”

It took Harry a moment, but then his eyes flashed with recognition. “That crazy old psychic was right!”

Mags laughed at the absurdity of it all. “I wonder,” she began, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, “If she was right about two things so far, I’m starting to suspect that she was right to warn me. I’ll bet you are a widower! How do I know I’m not dating a married man?” She teased.

Harry just looked at her fondly in response, at the crazy girl that he called his girlfriend.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Buzz! The electronic buzzer resounded, indicating that Mags and Harry’s turn was over. She threw her arm up in frustration. “Seriously Harry? The word was Leatherface! It’s the killer in Texas Chainsaw Massacre!” “How was I supposed to get that?” He howled with laughter.

“I was pointing at Zayn’s leather jacket!” She explained, pointing at the boy dressed as a Greaser, “And I was miming a chainsaw!”

“A chainsaw?” Harry questioned, as Niall guffawed, “I thought you were chopping vegetables!”

Mags sat back next to Harry, arms crossed, and lips pouted in pretending to sulk. “It’s okay baby,” he comforted her, “We’ll get them next round.”

“You promise?” She teased.

His pinky reached out to capture hers. “Pinky promise.”

Mags had chosen a seat next to Marisol and Niall, her main competition in this game. She had squeezed Liam’s shoulder as she passed to get to her seat and shot Zayn a smile in greeting, noticing other familiar faces in the room. It seems that the people that she was the closest with had chosen to join the game.

Niall observed Mags and Harry tangled within one another, as she sat close to Harry, her back to his chest, his arm slung around her shoulders as they waited for their next turn. “You guys are so cute. We should go on a double-date!” He exclaimed, the alcohol causing his enthusiasm to increase ten-fold, “Marisol,” he called, turning to his girlfriend, “Let’s all get brunch tomorrow morning!” Marisol shared a knowing look with Mags, to say Gosh my boyfriend is so cute but such an adorable handful when he’s drunk. “Sweetie,” she began understandingly, as if she was speaking to a toddler, “Y’know I have church in the morning. The church on 3rd street holds their sermons really early on Sunday mornings.”

“Oh, the one with Pastor Mike?” Mags questioned, “He’s super nice!” Marisol looked over at her roommate in concern. “Why do you know that?” She questioned in exasperated confusion, the synthetic hair from her blue Coraline wig slipping over her eyes as she narrowed them at Harry suspiciously, who was busy playing with the ends of Mags hair, the long strands skirting against the small of her back. Marisol lowering her voice in a drunken whisper that wasn’t actually that quiet, “Is he trying to convert you?”

Harry looked offended at the accusation and Mags bubbled over in laughter, unable to explain to Marisol. She didn’t even know what’d she say. Yes, I know Pastor Mike is really kind because he helped Harry and I with an exorcism.

As Marisol and Niall got distracted because it was their turn, Mags turned to admire the mantle above the fireplace. When rooting through the basement for Halloween decorations, she and Harry had found a beautiful picture of Bertha and Tom. They felt it was appropriate to have it up, as a reminder of the love that once filled this house, instead of the horror they previously feared. “I guess I’ll have to go out and buy another frame,” Harry commented, following Mags eyes to see what got her attention. “Why’s that?” Mags asked curiously.

“For a picture of us, of course!” Mags shoved his arm playfully. “Harry, we’ve literally been officially dating for one day, why are you like this?” In turn, he dropped all pretenses of joking, carefully looking into her eyes. “When you know, you know,” he explained, his words firm and laced with adoration. He reached out to tuck a strand of her dark hair behind her ears, his actions tender and careful, his gaze unwavering. This time, Mags didn’t have to guess what expression was on his face, wasn’t confused about the look in his eye. As he ducked forward, dipping down to touch his nose against hers, she recognizes the emotion that all the signs point to: love.

Just as Harry’s lips are about to make contact with hers, Liam speaks up boisterously, gathering the attention of everyone in the room. “After this,” he boldly proclaims, his once carefully applied zombie makeup now smudged and his speech imprecise due to the effects of the punch, “we should all get into the true Halloween spirit by playing the ultimate spooky game.”

His proclamation is meet with cheerful jeers of encouragement and questions about what the game was.

“Great!” He all but shouts in enthusiasm, “I’ll just go and find us a Ouijia board.”

Time stood still. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion.

Completely in sync, their motions fluid and graceful, contradicting the amount of alcohol consumed between the three of them, Niall, Harry, and Mags jumped up from the couch in harmony, bellowing a resounding chorus of “NO!”

The End. (or isss iiiiiit?)

(Just kidding, it is.)