#she is subjected to hazing and looked down on by the coven

[mybelladonicbeauty]

OH MY GOD they are reading the diaries - her private thoughts backstage its all going to come to a head

[peach-the-owl]

Hello! Can I request a Vox machina and Mighty Nein child reader where the reader gets killed and revived? Thank you!!

Hi! Thank you so so much for the suggestion, not gonna lie it was a bit tricky to write because it’s a tough subject to nail… also I may have cried a little making this, but after looking through the tears at the results I’d say it turned out pretty good 😁

No, I will not apologize for the length… Enjoy!

Dancing with Death

Vox Machina, Mighty Nein & Child!Reader

Warnings: Death (I mean it’s in the ask and title so it should be obvious, I guess), may get a slight bit graphic

Vox Machina

Go in, investigate, kill some demons, get out. That’s what you were supposed to do, sure you knew it wasn’t going to be the easiest task but you didn’t expect to see Vecna himself make an appearance. The twisted archlich taunted the party as you all fight off the demons as best as possible while simultaneously thinking of a way to escape. Too focused on not getting hit you didn’t see the devious look that crossed his features when his sights set on you. You fight off enemies as best as your abilities would let you until you find yourself face to face with Vecna, a icy chill running through you as he stared you down. That icy chill becomes more literal when he grabs you by the neck and lifts you into the air, you gasp in shock as you dangle helplessly, still struggling to free yourself, his grip only getting tighter, slowly cutting off your air intake. Everything was going hazing from your lack of oxygen, you felt the cold touch of his hand around your neck, the pain increasing from said cold, you heard what sounded like distant screams or maybe cries of your name, you weren’t entirely sure, there was a sudden pop in your neck alongside a brief second of sharp pain then… nothing.

You find yourself sitting somewhere dark, legs brought up to your chest as you hug them closer to you. Looking around this darkness stretched on and on, with no end in sight. Where were you? What just happened? You felt very confused until you saw the only other figure with you in this dark void. A tall, slender feminine figure stands before you, a dark cloak flowing down her shoulders and a simple porcelain mask covering her face, a hauntingly beautiful sight to say the least. You tilt your head to the side as you stare up at her, trying to wrap your head around what was going on and why she seemed familiar. To your surprise she copies you and tilts her own head to the side, although hers was more subtle, you then tilt your head to the other side and again she copies you, earning a small giggle out of you.

"Wow, you’re really pretty." You, finally finding words, say without much thought, you mind still not fully grasping the situation at hand. She lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment and gives a small bow to you before straightening herself upright again. At this point it’s starting to click why she was familiar, your eyes widening in realization at just who you were talking to. "Wait… you’re the Raven Queen. Does-does that mean I’m dead?" You stare up at her for some sort of confirmation, but the porcelain mask she wore didn’t really help give you any clues.

"Life can be so short and unfair, never caring if they be young, old, good or evil when facing the reality that is death." You blink at her words, it felt like there was some meaning to them but you couldn’t place your finger on what.

"Is-is that a yes?" You ask hoping for a more straightforward answer. She lets out another hum and reaches down to pick you up in a fluid motion, shifting to help smooth back some of your hair the second you were secure in her arms. Her touch was cold yet oddly calming to you as she begins to glide her way across the empty landscape that surrounded you both, you wonder if she was taking you to the afterlife, then she stops. You look at her confused but something else quickly captures your attention, a bright light cutting through the darkness. You couldn’t make direct eye contact but you tried your best to, hearing faint voices emitting through it, you couldn’t make out any words but the voices sounded desperate, pleading. You look up at the Raven Queen and, even through the mask, you could feel her own gaze set on you. You stare at her with curious eyes and once again tilt your head to the side in an almost silent question, as before she copies your action and traces the side of your face, tucking back any loose hair you may have had.

"Sweet little bird," she starts making you perk up, that was what Vax and Keyleth would call you as a nickname. "It is not your time quite yet, you have much more to accomplish in this life and foes whose souls shall be brought to me by your hand." You couldn’t tell if she was trying to be uplifting or something, but you did find some encouragement in her words. She leans closer to you and the cool feeling of her mask presses against your forehead as if in a gentle kiss before your vision turns white…

You open your eyes staring up at the ceiling of your room in Greyskull Keep, you just sit there staring into space for a while until you adjust yourself to sit up. Strangely enough you feel something wrapped in one of your hands, slowly opening it to find a single ravens feather resting in your palm, you examine it a moment before breaking into a cough, a strange sensation in your neck like there was a hand still around it. The sound of your door opening makes you look over to see Pike enter the room and hurry over to you, she helps steady you to your feet, giving a little extra healing to make the feeling in your neck go away and hugs you tightly, you happily return the hug, stashing the feather into your pocket. The two of you make your way around the keep to the dining room where the others were waiting, the instant they all see you you're swept up into hugs and apologies from all of them.

"(Y/n)! You’re awake!" "How are you feeling?" "I’m so sorry we couldn’t get to you in time." "We were so scared, we thought we might not be able to save you." These alongside many other comments were sent your way as you just happily snuggle into each one of their individual embraces. Keyleth and Vex both clung to you tightly doing very little to hold back their tears of joy. Grog easily scooped you up into his arms, being careful not to crush you and just happy to see that you were back on your feet, even if he protested to being worried. Percy and Scanlan both played it neutral, giving you pats on the shoulder or back, Scanlan making a comment that he knew everything would be alright because Pike was amazing at her job, but you could see the relief in their eyes for your well being. Then there was Vax, like the others he was very much happy and relieved that you were alright, wrapping you up in a tight embrace but there was also this faint look of knowing in his eyes when he stared at you. You offer all of them a bright smile before looking back up at the rouge, pulling out the feather to show him. He looks at it a moment, his expression softening a little more as gently weaves it into your hair. You’re about to say something when Percy speaks up, suggesting everyone goes out for the evening to finally unwind and celebrate your recovery. Quick and happy to agree you all head out to Emon, because there was only one thing on your mind now… you were absolutely famished.

Mighty Nein

Being in a group of adventurers was a risky bet to take, one you took with a smile. It would be fun they said, you’ll get to see new places they said, nothing could possibly go wrong you thought. For the most part it was true, but facing off against a coven of sea hags wasn’t proving to be the most fun to you. Well in fashion for the Nein, it would seem, things only got worse before they’d get better, one of the hags activating an orb-like object summoning a water elemental to the battle. The water elemental lunges at you, sweeping you up in its torrent to keep you from escaping, you only had enough time to take in a quick gasp of air before you’re trapped in the creature. You try to flail your arms to break free of the creatures hold to no avail, it’s not long before you start to have a hard time holding your breath. In a desperate last attempt you try reaching out to grab hold of anything nearby that you could use to pull yourself free, it was a futile attempt, your arms not even breaking past the creatures watery body. Your lungs begged for air and without meaning to you release your breath and take in a water, it burned your throat and lungs when you tried to cough it out only taking more in. Everything around you started to fade away, it was like the elemental itself didn’t exist either, only you and this moment, you couldn't escape and you didn’t know where everyone else was. It was lonely and you were terrified… then the pain disappeared, your vision was still dark but it didn’t hurt to breathe anymore.

You weren’t too sure what was going on, you couldn’t move or at very least you chose not to move and looked every which direction to see if there was anything or anyone else with you. Finding nothing you shakily rise to your feet and slowly move forward in this dark abyss.

"Hello! Is anyone there? Caduceus? Jester? Anyone?" You call out into the darkness hoping for an answer… no response. You keep calling for anyone from the Nein in hopes that someone would answer you, though it felt as though your voice was just swallowed up and reaching nowhere. "Is anyone there?" You repeat feebly. "Please, I don’t wanna be alone." You sniffle and tremble a little, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. A soft light breaks the darkness around you and a feminine figure appears before you. Her hair long and wild, cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall well complimented by the vines and flowers growing among it, a warm motherly smile upon her face.

A comforting breeze, feeling like that of a warm hug, blows around you and words, unspoken aloud but still heard form in your mind. "My sweet child, do not fear, you have never been alone." The words were soft and gentle, easing away your fear and bringing a sense of comfort to you as you stare up at the woman. She gently lifts you into her arms, moving so fluidly you almost don’t realize it until you’re face to face with the deity. Curiously you reach a hand out and touch the various flowers in her hair, a small giggle coming from you at the feeling.

"Your hair's really soft and the flowers a very pretty." You compliment, she hums in response, taking one of the flowers out of her hair and tucking it behind your ear. You carefully place a hand on the flower and smile at her, all the fear you held earlier finally disappearing.

"It is not quite yet your time to rejoin the earth," once again you don’t quite see her lips move but hear a voice carried in the soft breeze she emits. "Your family still needs you, my child. Go. Learn. Grow." Her words brought comfort but you had no idea what she was saying, honestly you still weren’t quite sure what had happened or who she was. She parts her lips and blows air into you, your vision turning white for a moment before you find yourself coughing up some water, feeling some pain in your chest as a result.

"Easy, easy. It’s alright, you’re gonna be okay." You rub your eyes before peeking them open to see Caduceus staring down at you with a relived smile. That’s when it clicked into your head what happened, but before you can make a comment another voice jumps in.

"Oh my gosh, (y/n)! We were so scared when we saw you in that nasty water guy." Jester effortlessly scoops you up into her arms and twirls around, a few tears having fallen at her relief.

"I wouldn’t say I was scared, just… worried." Beau comments, though her voice wavered slightly. Jester places you down and you’re immediately tackled into another hug by Nott. No comment from her, just being held in a tight embrace only a mother could give. When she finally lets go Fjord kneels down to your height and gently rubs your back, having been in a similar experience before he knows how you felt and almost looked guilty for it. You place a hand on his cheek and offer him a closed eye smile, he returns the smile before standing up again. Yasha now kneeling down and taking her turn to wrap you in her arms. You could feel the slight tremble in her body as she held you close, whispering something so quiet you wondered if she was even speaking at all.

Something soft butting at your leg pulled you from your thoughts, looking down at Frumpkin the cat gently butts it’s head against your leg again before rubbing his body against it with a soft purr. You pick up the cat, cuddling him a bit before looking around for his owner, spotting Caleb leaning against the wall his hands covering his face as he draws in deep breaths. You walk over to him and tug at his coat until he looks at you, you then hold up Frumpkin for him. He bends down and takes the cat from you, letting the fey rest on his shoulders then reaches over and gives you a pat on the head. It wasn’t much but you gave him A for effort.

"Alright, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m done standing around in here." Beau speaks up again, making you realize you were still in the creepy sea cave where the coven once resided.

"I second that!" You say, it coming out more hoarse then you’d like. A few more voices of agreement later and your all making your way back out of the cave and towards your ship.

[marvelfansince08love]

My loyalties lie with you, not the title you’ve been given - Part 3

Word count: 4K 

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Protector!Reader 

Warning: a lot of gay pining

A/N: Thank you sm for all your comments and feedback from the last part, I’m overwhelmed I love writing this series and I’m glad you guys enjoy it. Thanks @imnotasuperhero and @canarypoint again you wonderful people!

Tags my darlings: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @veteranwerewolf95 @chewbacca0805 @creepingwolfberry @muted-stoneheart @saucy-sapphic @coconutlipss @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k @nyx-aira @versonstar @witchxaf @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @r0an0ke @pearplate​ @kikaykimkim​ @the-obscuritywrites​ I feel like that’s everyone, please let me know if I have missed you or you want to be added! 

Part 3

The drive back to the academy is long and eerie as you remain silent, thoughts spiralling out of control in your mind. The plan was simple; continue with stake outs and guarding the academy where the warlocks will join the coven tomorrow evening, both Cordelia and John had agreed that this was the best way of keeping the group in one space so if the figure were to attack again it would make it easier to capture it in one place. You look across to the blonde supreme watching as her brows remain furrowed in concentration, her hands tight around the wheel as she stares straight ahead. You decide to break the silence. 

“I think it would be best to call for a meeting once we get in. The girls should be informed of the danger.” You suggest, keeping your voice low as to not startle her from her thoughts. She blinks once as if only registering your voice, clearing her throat she nods in agreement. 

“I think that would be best. My other girls should be arriving home tomorrow morning at the earliest, hopefully with some good news,” Cordelia mutters, her big brown doe eyes glancing briefly at your concerned expression. “What?” She asks, a shaky smile appearing across her soft pink lips.

“We'll get through this, Lia. You aren’t alone, you know? I meant what I said back there, I’m not going anywhere.” Your voice, full of promise and reassurance, makes her smile appreciatively at you before concentrating back on the long road. You smile at her side profile before going in search of a CD disk wanting to fill the silence with something that will keep her distracted from her thoughts. Opening the glove box, your eyes sparkle with excitement as you let out a small squeal. Cordelia glances bemused at your sudden outburst. 

“Oh my god! You kept it?!” You exclaim happily, reaching for the old mixtape. Your eyes skimming across the black ink that marks the front of the tape case. 

“For Lia, Happy eighteenth birthday. Yours, Y/N.” You read out loud, a wide smile forming upon your lips as your finger skims over the cover.

“Of course I kept it, it only has my favourite songs on there. One of the reasons why I bought this car was so I could play these tapes,” Cordelia gushes, as she basks within your excitement. 

Chuckling together, you place the tape inside the cassette player watching as it comes to life, the sweet voice of Stevie Nick flows throughout the car. Leaning your head back against the headrest you close your eyes as you allow her soft voice to relax you. Peeking over, you notice Cordelia’s hands have loosened around the wheel making you grin satisfied with your attempt to help her relax. The sound of Cordelia’s hum makes you smile as you close your eyes again, tapping your foot to the steady beat of ‘Dreams’ as you make your way home. 

Opening your eyes again, you feel a soft hand shake gently around your arm coaxing you out of your sleepy haze. Brown eyes gaze upon you as you begin to come around, stretching slightly in your seat. 

“Damn, Stevie has done it again,” you mumble tiredly, smiling sheepishly. Cordelia chuckles lightly and a familiar sense of deja vu falls upon you, remembering the many nights you would fall asleep to that woman’s sweet voice. 

“Come on, sleepyhead. We’re home.” She says, fondness evident within her voice. Your heart flutters at her choice of words. 

Home. 

Stepping through the front door of the academy, you notice how awfully quiet it is as you take in the empty hallways. Suddenly, you hear laughter erupted to the left of you as you quickly turn to the sound. Frowning, you look towards Cordelia in confusion as she smiles fondly. 

“I almost forgot it’s movie night,” She fills you in, stepping towards the door where the laughter had erupted from. Following closely by, you peek through the crack to see most of the young witches scattered around the living room space, eyes glued to the big projector. Your eyes clash with Myrtle's who sits further away from the girls, a book in hand as the fire clashes with her red hair from behind. 

“Cordelia, Y/N, darlings. I was getting worried.” She croaks, placing her book into her lap. Her greeting seems to cause the other girls in the room to look in your direction as you both make yourself known to the group.

“Good evening, girls. I’m sorry we're back so late,” Cordelia addresses the room, as the girls glance between the two of you. Some with glee and excitement as they subtly whisper to one another, some in confusion as they take in their tired supreme. Queenie and Zoe soon appear, feeling the presence of their supreme as they stand close by, eyes apprehensive as they await an update on the situation at hand. You stand a few inches behind Cordelia allowing her to address her coven, as she slips back into her role as supreme. 

“I was hoping that I would have had this problem squished by now. However, it seems that we- I underestimated our current situation,” Cordelia confesses, her expression one of sorrow and exhaustion. The young witches remain silent as they keep their eyes forward waiting for their supreme to continue.

“As you all know, some of our neighbouring warlocks have been taken from their school and haven’t been seen for the past week. After some extensive conversations with the council, we have decided that it’s within our best interest to house the boys here while we track down this dark source,” Cordelia pauses as the girls erupt into hushed conversation with one another. You eye her tense figure watching as her hands shake subtly at her side, Without thinking, you reach out for her shaking hand and brush your fingers lightly within her palm; the sensation bringing a calming effect to her body as she relaxes almost instantly at your touch, her head turned slightly she mouths a quick ‘thank you’ before turning back and addressing the now frantic coven. 

Stepping back slightly, you allow Cordelia to continue with informing the coven of your next steps in defeating this dark entity. Watching their eyes fill with worry and fright but with Cordelia’s reassuring smile and Myrtle's words of wisdom, the girls seem to relax knowing that they will be looked after, feeling safe within these walls that are full of strong and powerful witches.

Knowing that Cordelia has the situation under control, you decide it would be best to go and make some tea in the kitchen for her, knowing she’ll need it.  As you boil the sweet tea, the faint sound of Cordelia’s shoes echo through into the room, making you smile softly as you briefly glance at her tired figure. 

“You got anything stronger in that tea?” She teases, taking a seat at the kitchen countertop. Her hands now laced in front of her as she sighs heavily. You grimace feeling her tired energy surround you like a vice. 

Turning towards her, you place the now steaming cup in front of her hands watching as she inhales in the sweet smell of cinnamon. As she reaches for the cup you pull your hands back allowing her a few minutes of peace. Sitting across from her you watch as she takes a tentative sip from the cup, humming in satisfaction she closes her eyes for a moment allowing her body to relax after a hard day. 

“If you want, I could go and take some of Myrtle’s special vodka that she keeps in her cabinet?” You whisper, conspiringly pretending to look out for the woman in question making Cordelia laugh at your playfulness. She shakes her head, a small grin appearing on her face as she reaches over to hold your hands within her own, her thumb brushing softly over your skin looking into your eyes with such softness. 

“Thank you for being there with me today, I don’t think I would have held it together as much as I did if you weren’t there.” She confesses, squeezing your hands with gratitude. Flustered by her words and her touch you mutter a quick ‘don’t worry about Delia’ smiling softly at her. 

“It’s gone awfully quiet down here, are the girls finishing their film?” You ask, wanting to step away from the dangerous territory that is you and her. Removing your hands, you decide to busy yourself with placing scattered pots and pans in their rightful place. Without noticing Cordelia’s dejected look, she clears her throat and answers catching onto your change of subject. 

“No, I think the conversation we had kinda put a damper on things.. They’ve all settled into their rooms for the night.” She quietly says, as she circles the rim of her mug with her finger, mind distracted. Taking yourself over to her, you squeeze her shoulder in passing as you whisper ‘be right back’ leaving a confused blonde at the table. 

Upon returning, you watch her eyes brighten as she takes in the big coloured mismatched comforter as she eyes the knitted patterns that are now a little worn down after so many years of being used. Holding the comforter up, you look to the side of the material to lock eyes with the witch. 

“Outside?” You ask simply, the familiar sense of deja vu once again falls upon the room as Cordelia nods excitingly. Chuckling together you lead the supreme out into the backyard and head for the old swing set on the back porch. Sitting down comfortably, you bring the old comforter over your knees and lean back simultaneously, with a mug still in hand Cordelia sighs into the dark cold air before taking another sip. 

“God, I miss coming out here at night,” she reminisces, a peaceful smile present on her lips. You watch her for a few moments taking in her appearance, the slight crinkle by her eyes, her features more defined and mature but you smile unconsciously thinking that she has never looked more beautiful than when she’s at peace with herself, her smile still the same one you fell in love with all those years ago.

“Do you remember our last night out here?” You ask, a tone of sadness laced within your voice. Her eyes open at your question as you watch her eyes mist over, her smile turned downwards as she recollects. 

“How could I forget? It was only one of the worst days of my life. The first being my wedding day. God, what a stupid decision that was.” She mutters into her mug as she takes a sip. You smirk smugly, remembering what an awful person Hank was, he never deserved your Delia. 

“He was a pompous asshole, Lia. Me and your mother may have never gotten on but the one thing we did agree on was that.” You joke, bumping your shoulder against her own in good nature. 

“She did like you, you know? Fiona Goode was never one to show her emotions well, but I could tell she liked you.” Cordelia insists, a small smile playing on her lips. You scoff in disbelief. 

“Are you kidding? The first time that woman caught me in your room I thought my short life was about to end there and then!” You exclaim, laughing at the memory watching the blonde bite her top lip to refrain herself from joining in.

“Okay, so maybe she tolerated you. More than she did him, that’s for sure.” She reassures, sinking further into the comforter. You decide to toe at the ground allowing the porch swing to sway slightly back and forth in the cold air, the crickets chirping away within the depths of the academy's ground garden. 

“I’ve missed you, you know? I’ve missed this.” She whispers into the dark as she places her now empty mug onto the floor and leaning back against the swing, enjoying the peace. Your lips twitch as you mimic her action, the blonde witch places her head against your shoulder making you lean your head onto top of her own. She wiggles slightly as she brings the comforter higher up towards her neck. Sighing in content, you watch fondly as her eyes and nose twitch occasionally as she fights against sleep. 

Me too.

***

‘Y/N, Delia, darlings. We have beds for a reason, my dears,” Myrtle’s warm voice makes you twitch as your eyes flutter open to the sound, feeling another warm body next to you stir awake. The moon is still strong and bright as you take in the dark night sky realising you both must have fallen asleep out here. Glancing over to Cordelia, you notice her come to the same conclusion as her eyes widen slightly, a small colour of pink spreads across her cheeks. You both move apart quickly, as you fold up the old comforter glaring subtly at Myrtle who only grins knowingly. The red head twirls around and heads back towards the back door, her words making you flush as you avert your eyes from the blonde.

“Some things never change,” Myrtle’s raspy voice teases, as she elegantly opens the door and makes a quick exit, leaving you both alone. Scratching at the back of your neck, you go to utter an apology but Cordelia already beats you to it. 

“I am so sorry, I must have been more tired than I thought,” she apologises, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she reaches for her empty mug. You shrug indifferently before muttering ‘it’s not a problem’ before gesturing with your head. 

“Maybe we should follow her advice, sleeping out here is never a good idea.” You say, the peace and content you felt before no longer present as you remember your current situation. Cordelia nods in agreement before brushing past you and into the academy muttering a quick ‘good night’ her soft lips brushing briefly against your cheek. 

Lifting your head to the sky, you sigh heavily. 

‘She’s going to be the death of me’ 

Following day 

The sun burns bright above the academy as the girls gather outside, whispering and giggling to one another as they eye the two strong male protectors who stand in the middle of the open garden as the trees sway slightly in the light breeze behind them in this early morning. You roll your eyes from your position in the kitchen watching through the window as the teen witches become transfixed on your dorky older brothers, your eyes roll even further as you spot Madison eyeing them up as if they were her next meal. Sipping on your chamomile tea, you hear that familiar chuckle from your ex lover. Coming to stand next to you, you pass her your tea knowing that she enjoys the flavoured tea in the morning. Giving her thanks to you she takes the mug and follows your gaze to the performance outside. 

“Ah, I see it didn’t take Michael long to walk around shirtless. Does that guy even own more than one shirt?” Cordelia teases, making you laugh out loud. Arms crossed as you watch him use the spare sparring bamboo stick, striking forward towards your brother who blocks the attack. 

“He says it helps him when training or something. He’s a pig, what else do you expect?” You laugh, shaking your head. Your laughter is stopped short when you feel her warm breath close to your ear. 

“You should show him up a little in front of the girls, it’ll teach him a lesson. It gives Elijah a break from being used as a dummy,” She suggests, keeping her voice low as if conspiring. You fight back a groan at feeling her warm breath against your skin deciding to step back and grin at her suggestion. 

“You are one smart woman,” You joke, trying to ignore the fast thumping of your heart. Practically skipping towards the back down, you turn and wink at her before going to do exactly what she said. 

Standing tall on top of the porch, you continue to watch your brothers fight one another with accurate attacks and blocks. The girls quieten once they notice your presence, practically beaming in awe as you look towards them and wink subtly, placing a finger against your lips in a request to stay quiet as you disappear in front of them making them gasp excitingly as they finally see some of your powers in action. 

Now behind Elijah, you whisper quickly into his ear. 

“I got him,” He grins at your words before disappearing to stand next to Cordelia who now stands at the porch watching on proudly, having seen you train like this before with your brothers she’s excited for the girls to see it in action. She’s also missed seeing this side of you but that she would never admit. 

Michael turns around feeling the presence change near him, he grins when he spots you. 

“Come to join in, sis.” He says smugly, twirling the stick around in his hand. You match his expression, enjoying his attempt to taunt you in front of the audience that has now grown outside. 

“You never learn, do you Mike? Shall I show them how it’s done?” You challenge, already feeling your powers flow through you like electricity. 

Taking your starting stance, you take in his form watching how his hands twitch around his sparring weapon, his eyes darting around as if contemplating his next move, you smirk when you realise his next step as he eyes the tree behind you for a moment too long. Advancing forward you wait until he disappears in front of you, giving him a second advantage before teleporting behind by the tree and shoving him forward making him stumble. While he stumbles forward you quickly grab Elijah’s abandoned sparring stick before clashing it against his own weapon. Sticking your leg out, you swap instantly at his legs making him stumble to the floor with a grunt. 

“Come on, M. Madison’s watching.” You taunt, as he becomes reddened in frustration. He scrambles to his feet again, allowing him to regain his sense and his pride. You continue to spar back and forth, swinging and dodging his attacks only allowing him one good hit before effectively removing his only weapon, leaving him vulnerable. Gritting his teeth, he grumbles in frustration before advancing forward one more time. You step back allowing your power of Phytokinesis to manipulate the vines that lay around the tree branches on either side of you to shoot forward and wrap tightly around his wrist keeping him in place as he falls to his knees, stepping confidently towards him you crotch down so you are eye level. 

“Do you surrender?” You ask, a teasing grin playing on your lips. Your eyes sparkle with mischief and complacency. He huffs, chuckling quietly as he shakes his head. 

“You’re a real dick sometimes. You know that, right?” He says, but you can tell by his playful eyes that there's no real bite behind it. Shrugging you step back and stand up, turning to the stunned audience, before erupting in cheers. You bow playfully for them, glancing briefly at Cordelia’s face catching her fond eye roll at your dramatics making you grin as you allow the vines to withdraw from his wrists and back onto the tree trunks.

A few of the younger girls move forward towards you in excitement, as they ask multiple questions over one another as your brother grumbles his way back over to Elijah, his bruised ego following close behind. Chuckling to yourself you crouch down to the group and explain some of the powers used during your training watching their eyes fill with wonder. 

“I wanna be a protector!” 

“Do you think I can hold the power of manipulating the trees?!” You try to answer their rushed questions, feeling slightly overwhelmed by their interest in you. As they continue to talk over one another you stand up and look around for Cordelia, frowning when you see her look into the trees with a cautious expression. Following her gaze, you notice a small white light grow bigger between the two front trees, noticing three dark figures within the circle of light. You go to move the girls behind you ready to fight whatever mysterious figures come through the portal, but you stop as soon as you hear Cordelia choke out. 

“Misty.”  

You frown at her expression, as her eyes gloss over with tears as she takes in the other two women that now stand, flanking this Misty woman. Cordelia lets out a watery laugh as she moves briskly from the porch and towards the three women as Zoe and Queenie join her. Madison stays back as she lights a cigarette, unfazed by their arrival. You turn your gaze from the group and towards your brothers who stand at the porch, Elijah shrugs just as confused as you. Turning your gaze back to the newcomers, you watch how Cordelia takes them in one by one cupping their faces with such delicacy your eyes widen as you realise exactly who they are. 

“My other girls should be arriving tomorrow” 

You go to move forward but stop yourself as you take in how Cordelia keeps her hands close to Misty’s face, racking her fingers through her hair tenderly. The gesture makes you want to look away as you swallow the small lump that has formed within your throat. As if sensing your hesitance, Cordelia turns her gaze towards you as she drops her hands to her sides again. Her gaze draws the other girls attention to you as you now stand awkwardly with the younger witches. 

“Mallory, CoCo, Misty, I would like you to meet Y/N. M- the protector.” The words hurt a little bit more than what you would have liked but you put on a smile and wave at the three as they do the same. Misty’s mouth forms into an ‘o’ as she looks between you and Cordelia, her eyes bright as she launches forward and takes both your hands into her own squeezing in greeting. 

“My,  it’s an honour to finally meet cha, Ms.Wardwell. Ms.Delia has told me so much about you,” Misty gushes, her smile wide. The other young girls around you giggle at Misty’s enthusiasm, clearly used to the woman’s outgoing personality. Their giggling draws Misty’s attention away from you as she greets them, talking animatedly to them about her time away leading them back into the academy. She looks back at the group and nods towards Mallory, as if giving her permission to inform you all of what they have found. 

Moving closer so you can listen in you feel the atmosphere change as you all look at Mallory. 

“Mallory, what did you find?” Zoe asks the question that’s been on everyone’s mind. 

“We know where it’s located and it’s not too far from here. We’ve been tracking it all the way from Salem and with each passing day it’s becoming stronger.” She shakingly informs, as CoCo keeps a supportive hand on her shoulder. 

“We saw it last downtown here in New Orleans, I don’t know how long it’s planning on staying but it’s here and we should probably attack it before it attacks us again. This might be our only chance. Cordie,” CoCo finishes, her expression distraught. You look towards Cordelia, already feeling the cogs turning inside her head. 

“We need to inform the rest of the council, we may need more people in on this, Queenie and Zoe go and contact Marie Laveau,” She says. Hearing a scoff from Madison, you turn to face her. 

“You can’t seriously be thinking about it.” you look back towards Cordelia, confused by her question. The blonde bites her lip as she locks eyes with you, her eyes conflicted. 

“Can you still bring people back from the dead?” 

[spartanguard]

even death won’t part us now (3/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

rated M | part 1 | part 2 | AO3 | 5.8k words

A/N: So I’m not entirely sure what my posting schedule will be like but it’s looking like every 8 days. This chapter is a ton of CS goodness that I hope you like! Thanks again to @optomisticgirl​​ for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair​​ for her amazing art (LOOK AT THIS NEW PIECE OMG); and to @kmomof4​​ and @cssns​​ for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

sorrynotsorry for the Hamilton references; I couldn’t resist

I know they’re not actually singing but the movie is still awesome

part three—tonight, tonight; it all began tonight

Emma couldn’t help it; she was entranced. After so many years thinking she’d merely dreamed of their existence, to suddenly see those blue eyes—and the handsome face they belonged to—it kind of made the world seem to slow. The music, the moving bodies between them—it all seemed to hit some sort of decrescendo, and she found her feet moving toward him without her telling them to.

His gaze hadn’t left hers since they locked eyes, and it was almost as if the crowd was parting around them, leaving a clear path for her to finally meet the man who’d haunted her peripheral vision the last 15 years.

Then, suddenly, he was there in front of her. She breathed; she could smell him—something warm and spicy and vaguely like rum and leather—but there was no heat radiating from him like a human would have. Despite that, there was a solidness to him that proved he wasn’t a hallucination.

“You’re real,” she breathed.

“Aye,” he said in an accented voice. “You’re still here.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” she answered, slightly confused but more enamored than anything. 

“I’m glad,” he said, then reached for her hand. She continued to stare, entranced, as he brought it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. If her stomach was still capable, it would have flipped. Part of her wondered if he’d walked straight out of a Jane Austen novel, but the odds of him being that old (or older) were significant.

“I apologize if I kept you waiting,” he continued.

“I’m patient.”

“So am I.”

Without further ado, he stepped into her space; normally, she would have moved the opposite direction, but not tonight. Whatever that feeling was she’d gotten earlier—a warning, a sign, an omen—this was what it was bracing her for; she knew it.

(Apparently, she could be a hopeless romantic when she really wanted to be. Suck on that, Snow.)

He wrapped his free arm around her and she felt hers slip up to his (firm) shoulder, like some long-lost muscle memory was taking over. Then he took a step, and she followed. Then another, and another, until they were dancing in their own little circle in the middle of everyone.

“What is this?” she asked, the haze of her shock finally clearing a bit.

“It’s called a waltz,” he answered matter-of-factly. “And the only rule is: pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Innuendo was dripping off that statement, and Emma decided she wouldn’t mind figuring out what else he knew how to do—at some point, at least; not here, not with all these people around. 

“I feel like I’ve been seeing you out of the corner of my eyes for years,” she confessed as they continued to step and sway. 

“I wish I could say you have, but I’ve been abroad the past several; there’s no way I would let a woman as lovely as you pass me by without giving her my full and prompt attention.”

She smiled; god, how long had it been since someone genuinely flirted with her? Someone who wasn’t looking for just a one-night fling. (Her sense for these things had only gotten sharper over the years—he was genuinely interested in her, she could tell. And the feeling was mutual.)

“It was you, right?” she asked, moving in a bit closer. “From the night I turned?”

Before he could answer, though, a firm hand was on her shoulder, pulling her away and rudely tugging her back into reality—David.

“Dad, what the hell?” she complained as he moved in front of her, almost like he was shielding her.

“Get back, Emma; he’s not safe,” David commanded, not taking his eyes off of—shit, Emma didn’t even know his name yet. But he too was surrounded by a couple other vampires, and Graham quickly joined the fray.

“He’s with Aurum,” Snow whispered in her ear, suddenly appearing at her side. “And Regina is here with him.”

Oh, shit—Regina was the one who turned her parents. Which meant she could control them, if she was so inclined; just another reminder of how lucky Emma was that her sire was gone. 

“We need to go—now,” Snow hissed, grabbed Emma’s arm, and started to pull her from the crowd.

“Dad!” Emma shouted, because it looked like he was confronting one of the Aurum guys. She knew he could hear her, but he was locked in a tense conversation, albeit brief; she couldn’t hear their exchange over the thumping dance music, but it was obvious from their body language that the tone was tense. She and Snow were nearly out the back door before he and Graham caught up to them and Snow finally loosened her grip on Emma’s arm.

Emma shook off her mother and peered through the door before it mechanically shut behind them. She got one last look of those too-blue eyes, still staring at her from across the bar, before the door closed.

Just her luck: the first time a guy actually gets her attention in at least 25 years, he’s completely unavailable to her due to some stupid ancient rivalry.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Killian raged as he was unceremoniously pulled away from Emma and out of a fog of enchantment—by Robin, of all people. 

“Saving your skin,” Robin answered sharply. “She’s with Coroza.”

Fucking hell—he’d completely forgotten who he’d left her with. Bloody stupid ageless feud. But sure enough, when he looked back, he saw she was still with the Nolans. At the very least, his instincts there had been good. 

She was being dragged away by Snow, but David and another guy—Gary? no, Graham—hung back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” David barked angrily.

“I could ask the same of you,” Robin snarled back, showing his descended fangs and approaching David. “Should have known this club would be trash.”

“Then maybe you should get back to your side of the border and leave us be.”

“Or maybe you should find another feeding ground altogether; I’m sure the fare in New Jersey is cheap enough for your palate.”

“That’s enough. This ends tonight,” David spat. Killian was pretty sure David didn’t have the authority to proclaim that, but he didn’t know the hierarchy in Coroza (and certainly wasn’t up to date on it) well enough to call his bluff.

“Fine,” Robin snarled. “Meet me at Granny’s tonight, 3:00. We’ll set the terms there.”

“Fine.” David turned and left with no further comment; Graham was quick to follow, but leveled a withering glare at Killian first that, if he wasn’t mistaken, was tinged with jealousy.

Whatever. Killian looked past both of them, through the back door of the establishment—where he caught one last glimpse of green eyes and blonde hair before the door closed. He prayed that wasn’t a metaphor.

Robin was quick to usher them all out, and Killian followed, not wanting to make a scene. But he quickly wracked his brain for his old recollection of addresses, and just had to hope the Nolans had the same habit towards moving (or rather, not) that the majority of vampires held. 

That was not the last time he saw Emma—he was going to be sure of that.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Emma was mature enough to admit that by the time they got home, she was sulking; that teenager feeling she had earlier was definitely still relevant. Her dad and Graham were talking strategy, it sounded like, and her mom was trying to comfort her, it seemed—though over what, she wasn’t sure.

Finally, they reached the townhouse; the boys disappeared to the downstairs office while Emma and Snow headed to the little-used kitchen. At least there was a bottle of black-market blood vodka in the fridge; Emma needed something to take the edge off, her drinking plans being interrupted.

She poured a shot for both her and Snow and quickly downed it. Snow, though, looked at hers a bit pensively. 

“I’m sorry your night out got ruined.”

“It’s fine; it happens,” Emma shrugged off. “I’ve got plenty more to come.”

“I know, but...god, I hate it when they show up like that.”

Emma didn’t let her mom see her roll her eyes; again, she didn’t give two shits about the rivalry—it was the way it seemed to bring out the worst in people that she had issue with. That was what ruined the night; not the mere presence of someone she was supposed to hate.

(Someone whose name she still didn’t know and was most likely the reason she’d been reunited with her parents in the first place—but that wasn’t something she was going to bring up right now.)

“Well, did you at least have fun with Graham?” Snow asked, happy to change the subject. Emma was less receptive.

“I barely even talked to him,” she scoffed.

“I wish you would. He’s a great guy.”

Emma didn’t hide her exasperation this time. “Yeah, he is—as a friend. I just...don’t like him like that.”

“Emma,” her mom sighed, then stepped close enough to wrap her in a hug. “That wall around your heart...it may keep out pain, but it can also keep out love. I just don’t want that for you.”

Emma’s mind immediately jumped to blue eyes and the sense of being drawn in by some unseen force. “I know, Mom, but—you’ve gotta let me do it on my own,” she said, rubbing Snow’s arm.

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed.

Emma gave a loving pat on Snow’s bicep, but then pried herself out of her mom’s embrace. “I’m going back up to the roof; I’ll be down later.”

“Alright; be safe.”

Emma chuckled; she was far more dangerous than any other predator out there. But she promised she would and headed up the stairs.

The sounds and smells of the city enveloped her again as she exited on the roof, hints of stars twinkling past the light pollution. It was a balmy and clear enough night that she’d probably consider staying up here for the rest of it, but for now, she was content to sit on the ledge overlooking the alley behind the building. It wasn’t particularly picturesque, but every now and then, a person would stumble through and Emma would feel a bit less alone in the world. 

Despite the family she’d found, being a vampire—and only truly walking the world during the dark—was far more isolating than she’d ever imagined.

Movement in the alley caught her attention; something was sliding through the shadows. It was usually just a stray cat, but this figure was much larger; despite her enhanced vision, it was too far away to make out until it came into the small bit of light that came from the streetlamp a quarter of a block down.

And then she gasped: it was him. Even in the faint light, she could see the sharp blue of his eyes—and they were staring right at her. 

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?” he said softly, loud enough for her to hear clearly but not for the average human. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”

If she could blush, she’d be blushing. 

“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,” he continued, moving closer to the building and carefully stepping onto the fire escape’s ladder. “Who is already sick and pale with grief.”

“Don’t tell me you’re so old that you actually knew Shakespeare,” she teased; she’d heard rumors that there were a few around here who did, though (including someone in charge of Shakespeare in the Park).

“She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head.” He carefully continued the recitation as he climbed gracefully and almost silently. 

“Wait—watch out for the—!” she whisper-yelled—but it was too late. He wasn’t looking where he was reaching and grabbed for the loose rung three from the top with his left—hook? She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed the prosthesis in the bar, but steel met rusty iron, which immediately gave way, leaving him dangling from his right hand. She hopped off her perch, saying “Shit—let me help!”

He chuckled; a low rumble that went straight to her core. “I’m fine, love; I’ve got this.”

And in a move that had no business being either physically possible or as ridiculously hot as it was, he somehow vaulted himself onto the roof with only his right arm.

She just gaped and blinked, her jaw literally dropping, as he landed in front of her with bent knees and then rose to his full height. He smirked, revealing a dimple in his scruff that was far too adorable for the far-from-innocent expression.

“How are you even real?” she blurted out.

“Well, many years ago, I was born, and then—”

“No, no, no,” she cut off; of course he was a smartass. “I know you’re real—I can feel it, felt it—but like...it’s like you walked out of the pages of some fairy tale,” she stammered.

His smirk fell a bit. “If I did, it certainly wasn’t a happy one—perhaps the Grimms’ version?” he posited, stepping toward her.

“Our lives certainly are as graphic as one,” she agreed. 

“I’d say,” he added, then waved his hook for emphasis. Oh god—he’d definitely know better than she would, clearly. She was totally messing this up, wasn’t she? 

“Sorry; I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he waved off. “I know you didn’t.” There was no resentment in his voice; he meant it. In a city full of pissed-off assholes, it was nice to find one who wasn’t easily offended. 

For a long moment then, silence fell over them (as much as anything could be silent in the city) but it wasn’t awkward; his eyes flitted over her as if he was studying her, so she tried to do the same, but had a hard time getting past the bit of chest hair revealed by the open buttons at the collar of his dress shirt. But then she could tell he was smirking again, which made her realize she was staring. 

She averted her gaze to a cracked concrete tile she’d been meaning to fix for...at least 10 years. “Um, sorry about earlier—in the bar, what happened; my dad, he can get—”

“It’s fine, love; my friends are the same,” he interrupted. “Frankly, I'd forgotten the rivalry was still a thing.”

“Oh shit—are you going to be in trouble for being here?”

“Not if I’m not caught,” he shrugged off. “'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.”

She smiled at how smooth he pulled that off. “Except I don’t even know your name,” she tossed back. 

“Oh, bloody—” he cursed to himself, running his hand through his dark hair, then straightened back up. “Killian Jones,” he said, adding in a slight bow, “at your service, ma’am.”

God, even his name sounded too fancy to be real. Although, there was probably something equally fantastical about hers. “Emma Swan,” she replied.

“I know.”

Her eyebrows raised. “You do?”

“To answer your question from earlier—if you’re referring to the night that Walsh Baum died after turning his last girlfriend, then yes, that was me who found you.” So she was right—she knew she was, deep in her gut, but to have confirmation was nice. “I’d been sent to follow you to make sure that didn’t happen. But obviously, I wasn’t successful there.”

She tilted her head, assessing the way he was decidedly not meeting her eyes on that last part. “That’s not the whole truth, is it?” Her ability to sense a lie, particularly in humans but also in other vampires, was a well-honed tool. 

“You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you?” he rebuffed, still focusing on his hook instead of her. 

“When I need to be.” She didn’t feel like she was in any danger; but her curiosity demanded to know. 

“I was supposed to kill you,” he said quietly. “But I couldn’t.”

Well. That was not what she expected.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian’s memory hadn’t failed him; the Nolans still lived in the same quaint little Hell’s Kitchen home. The view from the alley across the street was little changed in the last 15 years; just different cars parked on the street; different adverts glued to the utility poles.

He made his way to the alley alongside the building, clinging to the shadows to avoid being seen; he was very good at that. But then a golden spotlight drew his attention: Emma, perched on the edge of the roof, looking fully ethereal in the glow of the yellow streetlight.

And, well, his more theatrical side took over from there. (Yes, it was completely showing off by using only one arm to leap onto the roof, but he hadn’t gotten this far without knowing how to impress a lass.)

He was a little surprised at how well Emma was able to read him; but it was a firm reminder that despite his tracking her (and subsequent years of daydreaming), and despite their intense moment earlier, he really didn’t know her. 

Oh, but he wished to. 

“I was supposed to kill you,” he reluctantly revealed. “But I couldn’t.”

Her green gaze had already turned suspicious, and with that statement, he could almost see the physical walls going up behind them.

“So, what, you’re here to finish the job?” she accused.

“No,” he vehemently assured her. “I had no desire to kill you then, and even less now.” 

Her features softened, but only slighting. “Should I be worried about someone else coming after me?”

“As far as Aurum knows, you’re already dead. If they knew you weren’t, let's just say neither of us would be here to have this conversation.”

The tiniest sparkle of amusement ticked at the corner of her mouth. “I mean, technically I am dead,” she joked. “But...why didn’t you?”

That same familiar expression was in her face as he saw it 15 years ago. “You had that look in your eyes—the one you get when you’ve been left alone. And I...I know what that’s like, and I didn’t think you deserved to die like that.”

He hadn’t intended to make things so heavy, but he also knew he couldn’t withhold the truth. Although he was surprised at how easily he told her; it had taken nearly a decade to reveal anything of his past to Robin, and yet something told him he’d be spilling his full backstory to Emma over the course of the night. 

On her end, she seemed to be slightly overwhelmed by the statement; her eyes had gone wide and she was taking unnecessarily deep breaths (unnecessary in that she needn’t take any at all). “Thank you,” she said resolutely, and he could hear the weight in her simple words. 

Even after two and a half centuries, he still hadn’t learned to accept gratitude, so he just nodded and ducked his head a bit, trying to hide the blush that wasn’t there. “I can’t say it was entirely selfless,” he continued in an attempt to shrug it off. “There’s something to be said about finding a way to disobey the man who’s controlled you for the last 200-plus years.”

“Yeah, but sending me to the other side?”

He had to roll his eyes. “I hardly care about some petty, pointless rivalry that’s stretched through the centuries. While I may be under the thumb of Aurum, I don’t give two whits about sides.”

“Thank God someone else doesn’t,” she blurted out. “Like, I get why my parents do—Regina is the one that turned them, and not gonna lie, that is a bit of a sore spot for me—but that’s a personal issue. No reason to join a gang.”

He chuckled a bit at her simple but rational logic. “Aye; I’m likewise not much a fan of Cora—she killed my love, many years ago—but I only hold that against her; not the rest of her coven.” To this day, he still didn’t know if Cora had singled Milah out because of her connection with him, or her connection with Gold; either way, she had been murdered, and there was naught he could do.

“Eesh, that sucks.”

“Aye, it did.”

“It doesn’t anymore?”

“I was angry for a very long time, but the pain dissipated over the years—and I’ve had many of them. Plus,” he added, stepping towards her, “I found someone else has caught my attention recently.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, even though she seemed to know the answer, and smiled. “Who?”

“Well, you see, there's been this fierce blonde running through my dreams the last 15 years or so, and now that I’ve properly met her, I must say—she fascinates me.”

“What a coincidence; you fascinate her, too.”

“Aye?”

“Yeah, and she’s been seeing your blue eyes out of the corner of hers for years now.”

She had moved into his space on that last statement, and the air between them was full of a static tension Killian had never felt before, as if it was drawing them together. This wasn’t the same as what had happened in the club—this was electric, begging for release, and—

—And suddenly his lips were on hers, or perhaps the other way around, but it didn’t really bloody matter because she was soft and warm under him, against him, pressed tight against his body and he knew—he didn’t know how, but he knew—he’d never kiss another pair of lips again.

O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Holy shit—Killian could kiss. 

Emma wasn’t entirely sure who initiated it; just that she couldn’t resist it (him) anymore without touching him. It was like the opposite ends of a magnet being drawn together: inevitable and forceful. 

(Which, given the whole rival teams thing, was probably appropriate.)

Emotionally, her walls weren’t entirely down—they didn’t fall that easily, not anymore, if ever—but she could tell they weren’t going to last, and not just because of his make out skills. She’d known him all of ten minutes and already he understood her better than anyone ever had—more than Neal, more than Walsh, more than her parents even. 

That said: his scruff left a delicious burn on her lips and she could taste the blood rum he’d had earlier, sweet and spiced and so like him and she wanted to get drunk on it (especially since her shot at actual inebriation for the evening had gone out the window).

And the one nice thing about making out when you were technically undead: you didn’t have to come up for air. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, ready to settle in for a while, pressing her entire body against his (and liking what she felt). A rush of arousal washed over her and—

—And her fangs dropped down of their own accord. What the fuck? That had never happened.

She pulled back when they did, instinctively not wanting to hurt him (though logically, she doubted she could). “Sorry,” she apologized breathlessly. “That’s never happened before.”

Killian let his forehead rest against hers. “I thought that was the guy’s line?”

She chuckled and lightly slapped his shoulder, then shifted her weight back a bit, trying to put some space between them—and the evidence of his own arousal, which was doing nothing to tamp hers down. 

Honestly, she was kind of embarrassed; she felt like some horny teenager losing her cool in the presence of an elder statesman. She’d had a few one-night stands since she turned, but nothing serious—and never felt anything as intense as what she felt right now, and they’d barely even touched. It was kind of overwhelming; not in a bad way, just not in a way she was ready to address just yet—at least, not seriously.

“You kiss pretty good for someone old enough to be my great-great-grandfather,” she teased, a smile playing at her lips while her hands, which had somehow ended up on his shoulders, pressed against the preternaturally firm muscles below them.

“There should probably be a few more greats in there,” he quipped back, his hand squeezing her hip and the brace of his prosthesis pressing against her other side.

“Oh really? Just when were you born?”

“The Ninth of April in the Year of Our Lord 1750,” he answered rather officially.

Emma whistled. “Damn. Good thing I like older men. How old were you when you were turned?”

“31.”

“Okay, still older.”

“It’s good to know that’s your entire criteria in seeking a partner.”

She snorted, but only to cover up the way she instinctively balked at his choice of words; she couldn’t deny that it was headed that way, though. Even if it had barely been an hour since their first exchange, it felt like forever ago—or maybe it was just because she’d been unconsciously chasing him for her entire afterlife.

Still—it felt like the world was starting to spin, and she needed it to slow down. She grabbed his hand and stepped away, but tugged him along with her. “Come here; I want to show you something.”

He followed without hesitation as she led him to her tent, but hesitated when she tried to drag him down onto the cushions. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d hate to intrude on what’s clearly something of a sanctuary,” he explained, nodding at her modest fortress. 

“You’re not; I’m inviting you in.” She hoped he understood the double meaning there. 

An adorably shy smile took over and he followed, falling gracefully to her left onto the mound of pillows. She reached to her other side and fiddled with some cords, and suddenly, light filled her makeshift tent as power flowed to the twinkle lights she’d rigged up along the crude wooden framing.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Killian gushed—genuinely, not placatingly—as he stared around.

“It’s better if you lay down,” she told him, then let herself fall back against the cushions; he followed suit.

“I wasn’t talking about the tent but I do agree—I can think of any number of enjoyable activities that involve a woman on her back.”

“You’re just full of one-liners, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had quite some time to accrue them.” 

“Fair.”

A thick sheet of clear vinyl formed most of the top of the tent; if she spent time up here during the day, she’d have stuck with something opaque, but given that she never used it when the sun was most at risk of frying her, it was perfect for dark, wet nights. “I love to come out here when it’s raining,” she explained, “and watch and hear it coming down above me. I could almost fall asleep.” You know, if that was a thing she could still do.

She turned to look at him, but he was staring up, a wistful smile on his face. “Aye, I can only imagine; I used to love the sound of it falling on the deck when I was in lower quarters.”

“What, were you a pirate?”

“Eventually, yes; but prior to that, served in His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

“Which ‘his majesty’ was that?” 

“King George the Third.”

“Wait, like, Hamilton King George?” 

“One and the same.”

“Shit, you are old.”

“Why would I make that up?”

“I dunno; street cred?”

He chuckled. “That’s the farthest thing from my mind.”

Now her curiosity was piqued. “So, did you fight in the Revolution?”

“Aye, though we didn’t exactly call it that on our side.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t have.”

“No, but I did find my sympathies changing sides while stationed here.”

“What, liked it so much you decided to stay?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘decided,’ exactly,” he countered, then turned his head to look at her. Even with the change in angle, it was easy to see that his previous cockiness had given way to trepidation. “Is this where we divulge our tragic backstories?”

She grabbed his hand. “It can be, if you want.”

“Okay.” 

It almost seemed like historical fiction, the tale he told her: born in a poor fishing village, losing his mother when he was young and his father leaving them later, joining the Navy with his brother to get out of a terrible situation, being sent to America to fight the ‘rebels’, falling in love with a woman he met in a tavern in Boston, losing his brother and his hand in battle, and then all hell breaking loose. 

“Milah was nursing me back to help when, lo and behold, her husband located us. Gold.”

“No,” Emma gasped. 

“Aye. He was...less than pleased, as you can imagine, but she managed to talk him down. But we were out on the town some weeks later when Cora cornered us and murdered her. At that point, I had little to live for, and despite my injury, volunteered for the next battle; how my officer accepted me, I’ll never understand.”

“What battle was that?”

“Yorktown.”

“1781,” she automatically finished; she and her mom really listened to the Hamilton soundtrack way too much.

Thankfully, he laughed. “Yeah, that was the year. That was also where I was turned.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s still my favorite song.”

He went on to explain how he was a bit too close to cannon fire from a Continental Navy ship, delivering a fatal blow to his chest that sent him overboard. If the internal bleeding hadn’t gotten him, he’d have likely drowned—except Gold was waiting nearby. “He’s never told me why he was there—if it was the general chaos or me explicitly—but I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

Killian was dragged through the brackish waters of Chesapeake Bay by Gold to the rough shore of a then-unpopulated island and turned; he wasn’t lucid enough to protest (to even notice who his would-be savior was) until it was too late. “My first meal was another soldier who’d washed ashore,” he admitted.

If she could still cry, she’d be wiping tears from her face. Holy shit—what a traumatic way to be turned—to even live. “God, I’m so sorry,” she told him, and squeezed his hand.

He shrugged. “It is what it is; ancient history now. I’m having a hard time complaining if that was what it took to bring me to you.”

Emma had to avert her gaze at that; he was not only telling the truth, he was wearing his damn heart on his sleeve, and it was intense. “Please, you hardly know if I’m worth that yet.”

“Emma,” he said softly, then gently turned her face back to him with his hook. “I’ve met thousands of people over the past two and a half centuries, and not one has made the impression you did in a fraction of the time. I feel...I feel like even if you were following me the last several years, I was chasing you my whole life.”

She needlessly swallowed; it was funny how physical reactions lingered even when they no longer served a purpose. But that was what she did when she was overwhelmed in life, and she was extra-whelmed now. 

Especially because, “I feel that way, too.” It was only a whisper but somehow the loudest thing she’d ever said.

Slowly, reverently, he pressed his lips against hers; she was still reeling emotionally, but his kiss was a welcome balm to her aching mind (or something vaguely poetic like that; she was too focused on how good it felt to come up with a good analogy). He deepened the kiss a bit and pulled her closer, but it wasn’t heated, just—she hated to say this so soon—loving.

It didn’t last long until he broke it, but he stayed close, his arms around her. “And you? I’d love to know more about your beginnings.”

“Not much to tell,” she shrugged. “Not as exciting as yours, at least.” She explained what happened with her parents and growing up in the foster system; her first love, her stint in jail, and the baby she gave up; and a brief summary of the years in between her release from jail and that night in Walsh’s apartment.

“Wait—so the Nolans are actually your parents? They birthed you?”

“Yup. I guess I should be thanking you for that, too.”

“No, love—that’s my pleasure. I mean, I had no idea, but I’m glad you were reunited. I had no idea their history with Regina.”

“It is what it is, but we’re making the best of it. Although I definitely feel like a teenager sometimes.”

“I can only imagine,” he chuckled. “And look at you now—hiding a boy from them and everything.”

She laughed, but it turned into a groan. “Ugh. I’m not looking forward to that conversation.”

“Don’t think of it, then. We have all the time in the world to figure that out.”

Just then, Killian’s phone started vibrated, making them both jump; a perfect reminder that things were not as simple as either of them would like.

“That’ll be Robin,” he muttered, then dug the device from his pocket and began replying to the message he’d received. “Shoot; I have to be at Granny’s in 10 minutes.”

“Can’t you do something to convince them to call this off?” she wondered. “We can’t be the only ones to think this is a petty feud.”

“I can certainly try; but we know how hot the tempers of our kind can run.” It was true; it sometimes felt like emotion had replaced bodily functions. Instead of her heart beating, she filled that void with pure emotion.

“I know, I know; but—try?”

“I will.”

They spent a few more minutes in the tent making out (and maybe a bit of dry humping, but Emma was cautious to not let it go too far lest her fangs make another unexpected appearance), and then stole any number of kisses as they made their way back across the roof to the fire escape.

“I hope it’s always this hard to say goodbye to you,” he murmured between a few last pecks.

“Then let’s not—how about ‘see you later’?” she proposed.

“When?”

“Granny’s, at dusk; I’m working tomorrow and I usually stop there to eat beforehand.”

“It’s a date.”

She grinned and gave him one final kiss, before he made a careful climb back down.

When he was firmly on the ground, he looked up and said quietly, “Not a moment will go by I don’t think of you.”

“Good,” was her simple reply, and he disappeared into the night.

(Something else was on the tip of her tongue, but she wasn’t ready to say it yet. However, it wouldn’t be much longer until she admitted it to both herself and him: she loved him.)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading, friends! let me know if you want/don’t want a tag! @kat2609​​ @xpumpkindumplingx​​ @shipsxahoy​​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​​ @mryddinwilt​​ @cocohook38​​ @annytecture​​ @shireness-says​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @wingedlioness​​ @word-bug​​ @distant-rose​​ @wellhellotragic​​ @welllpthisishappening​​ @let-it-raines​​ @pirateherokillian​​ @bleebug​​ @its-imperator-furiosa​​ @fergus80​​ @killianmesmalls​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​ @ineffablecolors​​ @laschatzi​​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​​ @nfbagelperson​​ @stubblesandwich​​​ @lenfaz​​ @phiralovesloki​​ @athenascarlet​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @snowbellewells​​ @idristardis​​ @scientificapricot​​ @searchingwardrobes​​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @lfh1226-linda​

[jasperwhitcock]

01. AN IMPOSSIBILITY

i stumbled upon a post you can read here from @bellasredchevy​ from like a year ago where she expanded on an au where bella & edward switch places where bella is a vampire in the cullen family and edward is a human. we’re all social distancing (or we all SHOULD be unless u have work so if ur out partying take ur ass home boo) so i had time to kill & i thought i’d write a chapter hehe.

It was an impossibility for me to have missed the presence of my adopted brother entering the room. What with my astute senses, my supernatural sensitivity to everything – the microscopic details of the book page’s porous beige paper, the length of his shadow stretching onto the floor beneath the novel in my hands, cast from the golden light of the hallway, the smooth, feathery finish of the paper under my frozen fingers, the whooshing sound of air caressing his mountainous stature as he appeared, the soft yet heavy thud of his feet against the floor – a sound nearly imperceptible, the impossible to place scent of something like bergamot, white cedar, rose, and sandalwood perfuming the room at his appearance. An impossibility, and yet, my focus was so invested in the words inked on the page, enamored with a story I’d read a hundred, a thousand, a million times, that I found myself shocked when the novel surprisingly ripped down the spine into two perfect halves before my eyes, another one of my novels that he had plucked off the shelf barreling towards my face. He had thrown the other book with such force that in the process of his attempt to grasp my attention, he knifehand-striked a book I had taken from my mother Renee’s sad little toilet-reading, bathroom basket collection of a library.

I was on my feet hunched towards him infinitesimally, the book that had been less than a centimeter from crashing into my face tenderly clutched in my right hand, my lips pulled back over my teeth to let out a snarl. The right half of the original novel I had held fell onto the floor with a thump a moment later. He stood crouched as well, a wicked smile spread on his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He loved provocation – eliciting this kind of response in me fueled him. A fight with some authentic irritation, a fight with an edge.

“Time for school, baby sister,” He raised an eyebrow, inviting the challenge.

“Emmett,” I hissed through my teeth, tensed to launch myself at him. Part of my mind sifted through a dozen plans of attack, strategizing what would be my most successful method of taking him down since he was pretty much insurmountable. He had all the strength and all the size. Stealth would be my greatest chance. Another part of my mind pulsed with irritation, an irrational, furious mood swing sweeping over me. The kind of emotional response only our kind could experience...or handle. I nearly saw red as the rest of the words flew through my lips. “Couldn’t you have told me that without destroying a priceless artifact of my human life, big brother?”

I made the name sound like a curse word.

“Artifact?” Emmett snorted. “Please. How many times have you read that same damn story in the past few years? I did you a favor,” he smirked as he feigned right and left so fast that it was as if he hadn’t moved at all.

I tensed to hurl myself forward at the opportune moment before a tsunami tide of calmness washed over the room along with an earthy aroma of citrus, patchouli, musk, and leather. “We really should be leaving now,” my other adopted brother Jasper murmured in his lightly southern accent as he appeared.

“Restricting as it may be, vehicles only allow up to a certain speed, and Esme wouldn’t like for us to be late,” my tiny sister materialized by his side in a blur of porcelain skin and inky black hair. “Although, maybe she’d get a kick out of a call home for tardiness,” Alice laughed, a sound like windchimes. “I can tell you who would have won or you could have your fight later.”

“Ugh,” Emmett groaned in disappointment, dropping his stance. “It’s so hard to get her that riled up. Fuck!” He complained, grumpily disappearing from the room in a flash.

“Later,” He promised under his breath from the garage.

“You would have won,” Alice mouthed, her beautiful lips stretching into a secretive smile as she winked. She picked up the other half of the novel I had purposefully dropped to catch the meteor Emmet had propelled, tossing it in the air towards me in one fluid motion.

I grinned to myself, gently tucked the other book back into its rightful place on the shelf across the room, and caught the ruined piece before it hit the ground. My face immediately dropped into a frown as I analyzed both halves. Fortunately, Pride and Prejudice was not beyond repair. I could mend the division by sewing it back together down the spine later. I set the injured book down and flew downstairs not a moment later. As I passed my adopted mother on the way to the door, I pecked her on the cheek before exiting the house and sliding into the dark leather backseat of the pearly white car next to Alice. Without checking the mirrors, Rosalie sped out of the garage as soon as the door lifted enough for us to clear.

The trees outside the windows were a green haze as we flew by, our speed only decreasing when we arrived in the main part of town among other drivers. We could have ran to school much, much faster – and thus not had any concern about tardiness – but without our cars for appearance, our show might prove unconvincing. It wasn’t abnormal to walk to school in the unrelenting pouring of rain in our small town of Forks, Washington. However, though few people in town knew the location of our home, perhaps the front office ladies might find it concerning that a group of teenagers trekked a half marathon to their classes. It was unlikely they’d care to look up the address from our files, but we were never too cautious. 

I liked running. I had been characterized as very clumsy in my human life, so it was a welcome change to feel graceful and coordinated. It was a welcome change to feel powerful. It was, however, unwelcome to participate in the daily charade of masquerading as exactly the opposite of that. As much as I had enjoyed my afterlife, I loathed the same thing many teenagers did, a hatred that may be my greatest commonality with the humans that surrounded me.

High school. I didn’t mind school prior to my immortal life. I had been decent and even above-average in most subjects. I had been a responsible, diligent, and quiet seventeen year old: I paid attention, I completed assignments in time, I spent most of my time in solitude which allowed me ample time to study. There were subjects I enjoyed far more than others that kept things interesting enough for me. Unfortunately, after a number of graduations, high school lost any potential interest and became something of a purgatory. Even classes like English lost their charm over time. Once you had spent years studying literature from the greatest professors, scholars, and writers both living and dead, it was immensely rare for a small town high school English teacher to offer a new take that would make my attendance worthwhile.

Attending high school provided us with the opportunity to remain in one place longer, so complain as much as I want, I suppose it’s something to fill the endless amounts of time. Still, that didn’t make the obligation any more tolerable.

Rosalie hummed along to a song playing quietly through the speakers while Emmett sulked in the passenger seat over having missed out on a fight. I smiled, a bit smug. On the other side of Alice occupying the middle seat, I sensed Jasper’s head jerk slightly in my direction to see the expression that reflected my slight change in mood. I shook my head, still smiling, and he smirked a bit himself before returning his attention back to his window. His scarred hand traced affectionate circles onto Alice’s hand in her lap, and she stared forward, her unfocused eyes seeing not what was in front of her, but the potential realities of the future.

They were a gifted couple. We become immensely enhanced when we’re transformed from being human, and as a result, some immortals are equipped with a special gift on top of their already unparalleled supernatural senses. Our creator and father figure Carlisle theorized that our strongest traits from our human life develop in even stronger ways once we’ve been changed. Jasper’s influential nature flourished into a skill of sensing and manipulating the emotional climate of those around him. Alice’s gift was even more unique. She could see into the future. We didn’t know what in her human life this had developed from. Her past is a secret to not only us, but Alice as well.

I too was gifted. For some time, we had no idea until I had met our cousins. In Denali, Alaska, there was another coven similar to us not just in kind but in diet and ideology who we considered extended family. Another commonality we share is that they also have gifted immortals among their coven. One of the only males, Eleazar’s, gift was sensing the abilities of other vampires, and he had detected my ability. He revealed, to all of our surprise, that I was something called a mental shield. It’s a talent of blocking out any powers that could invade my mind, and it is absolutely, entirely useless to me. I didn’t have a need for this kind of protection. My gift was a complete waste.

The drizzling rain was picking up into a steadier shower as we pulled into the small parking lot of Forks High School. Scenting the earthy, fresh stormy air was the tempting fragrance of the students’ pulsing blood as they ran for the dry cover of the maroon brick buildings. I was entirely satiated from my most recent hunt. Still, my throat burned with the slight dryness that would never completely go away. Jasper sighed.

There were only a few late stragglers hurrying from their vehicles towards their classes that could potentially see us, but as Rosalie parked, we moved at the frustratingly slow pace of the humans around us as a precaution. No risks. After exiting the car, Alice tossed me my backpack of useless school material from the trunk. I slid one strap over my shoulder and departed from my siblings for my first class.

The rest of the morning dragged along like a slow, drawn out sigh. I spent most of the time in my classes thinking of ways I could reorganize the book shelves in my room again. By genre, by author name, by theme, by year published, by year the story takes place, by favorite author, by alphabetical order of the location the story was set, by date of author’s death, by favorite to least favorite protagonist, by which accumulated the most pieces of literary criticism, by section that each family member might enjoy the most, by order in which I first read each, by order of which I read most to least, by order of which my family had read most to least, by alphabetical order of the antagonist’s name, and by which was least to most realistic were all ways I had structured my personal library in the past few years. I was toying with the idea of organizing by order of the birthday of the first character introduced, but a lot of the birthdays had not been established throughout the plot. I would have to decide where they would fit throughout the year based on which zodiac sign I might consider them to have depending on their character traits. Not that I held much stock in astrology – horoscopes did me no good when I had a future-telling sister.

The only difference in this day than any other day was that the trivial gossip I unintentionally overheard throughout the hallways concerned a new addition to the student body. This stirred up a lot of interest seeing as the majority of the children here knew each other for the entirety of their lives. What I had gathered in passing was that it was a junior boy named Edward Masen from Chicago who had recently moved from living abroad with his family. The girls were very excited – they considered him a very attractive potential new love interest. Attractive, though those who had been brave enough to speak to him found him to be impenetrable despite his charm. I wondered what the boy would make of me and my family.

I joined my siblings at our lunch table, the farthest table from everybody else in the room. In front of each of us was the prop of a lunch tray piled with unappetizing food. Alice sat, staring forward with empty eyes again, living in her own ever-changing reality. Jasper and Emmett made a hacky sack out of an apple and subtly kicked it back and forth in the air beneath the table, the apple moving too fast for human eyes to detect. Rose twirled a piece of her golden hair around in her hands, disinterested. Her thoughts were clearly elsewhere. As were all of ours. Occasionally she participated in their game by intercepting the apple with her foot.

“The new student’s going to ask about us in approximately fifteen seconds,” Alice chirped, her face returning to the present.

Emmett chuckled quietly.

“What will be said, and how will the boy respond?” Rosalie asked, her foot sending the apple reeling toward the ceiling.

Alice caught the apple in her slender, white hand before tossing it back to Emmett to end the game. “No different than anything else that’s been said, and no different than anybody else.”

I scanned the cafeteria to find the new student, so I could place a face to the upcoming conversation I’d be listening in on.

My eyes locked with a pair of soft green eyes set in a pale, angular face beneath an untidy mess of strange bronze hair. I looked away immediately but caught the beginning jolt of shock lighting up those surprisingly wise eyes.

“Who are they?” The boy gasped. So it had been my gaze that brought Alice’s vision to life. No doubt he’d immediately recognize the subtle differences that distinguish our kind from his. Emmett and I exchanged a glance, laughing under our breath as another junior student I recognized as Naomi Parker provided the common knowledge of the strange Cullen children. The story was complicated. In Forks, the explanation for our family was that Carlisle had adopted his twin niece and nephew, Rosalie and Jasper Hale, after the unexpected passing of his much older half-brother. Similarly, after a tragic car accident took the lives of Esme’s parents in addition to her aunt and uncle, she took in her younger siblings, Emmett and I, along with her niece Alice to look after us. Bonding over the shared experience of so much responsibility so young, Carlisle and Esme eloped, and we formed one giant, misshapen family.

Instinctively, I caught the apple in my hand just as it nearly turned into applesauce by means of collision with my stone face. I snarled at Emmett’s hysteric expression, hiding my hand from view so that anyone watching would have missed the entire catch. “Would you quit doing that today!?”

Rosalie shot Emmett a disapproving look. He shouldn’t be so irresponsible when we were clearly on display for the new Masen kid. I shot a minute glance towards his table to make sure they were no longer watching us. The boy seemed to be focused on the information he was receiving.

“This,” I snarled, sneakily disintegrating the apple into a pulp in my hand below the table where the humans couldn’t see, “will be what happens to you at home.” I made a show of letting the mush slide off my hand onto my tray.

My brother guffawed, and my other siblings joined in the laughter.

“In your dreams!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well. I also couldn’t help but feel the intensity of watching eyes.

“Who’s the girl with the really long dark hair?” The soft, low voice of the boy asked quietly from across the room.

Reflexively, my eyes met his stare once again. He looked away quickly.

“That’s Bella. She’s insanely beautiful obviously, but if you’re thinking about trying to talk to her, forget it,” Naomi shrugged.

Once lunchtime was over, we disbanded to head off to the last half of yet another monotonous day. On my way out of the cafeteria, I purposely bumped into the trash can for Emmett’s benefit as he and Rose followed close behind. The action was a little more violent than I intended, and the plastic container bent slightly at the force.

“Oops,” I bit my lip to keep from smiling as he erupted into laughter. Upon our move to Forks, it had become something of a joke between Emmett and I for me to feign clumsiness. I didn’t participate in this joke daily, but every once in a while I’d sprinkle in an elaborate fall for his sake.

When I reached my junior level Biology class, I settled into my seat at the lab table I shared with no one. I laid the books devoid of any information relevant to me out on the table, and propped an elbow on the surface to hold my head up in my hand, awaiting the oncoming tedium. 

The room filled as students returned from lunch. I paid them no attention, my eyes fixated on counting the snow-like particles of chalk dust floating in the air likely from Mr. Molina writing on the board prior to the end of lunch.

“Ah, welcome, Mr. Masen! We’re so glad to have you join us. You can take the seat next to Miss Cullen,” I looked up to find the biology teacher pointing in my direction. Next to him was the new boy. Standing up, he appeared very lanky – several inches taller than our teacher – though his physique was still slightly muscular.

I pulled the books closer to my side of the table to make room for him, feeling bad that he had the misfortune of being assigned the seat next to me. He would probably feel more comfortable anywhere else. Not only because I didn’t go out of my way to interact much with my classmates, but because their long-buried survival instincts told them what their brains didn’t totally understand: we were dangerous.

I had never been more dangerous than I was in that moment. Because after the Masen kid politely thanked the teacher, he turned down the aisle, directly in front of the heated airflow that blew towards me.

His scent washed over me like the most vicious, violent wave, a wall of unrelenting water in a heavy thunderstorm in the middle of the ocean, drowning me, taking me down, down, down, further and further away from the traces of humanity I had once clung to.

In every direction of this blackest of depths, there was no escape that could lead me back to the light; I resurfaced as the monster I pretended not to be.

The sweet enticing smell of Edward Masen’s blood compelled my throat to rupture into a burning, aching fire. I had never been ablaze with such need. My mouth was pooling with venom as my prey approached. Since he spoke, he had only taken another step forward. He would not take another.

As my muscles begged for the release that would send me springing forward, stealing the first life of my existence, those sage eyes glanced at me, widening in bewilderment at the vicious expression contorting my features.

With great difficulty, I emerged from my horrible, repulsive compulsion. The look on his face was enough to spare him another moment.

His scent perfumed the air around me; I was encompassed in this irresistable cloud of bloodlust, eager to leap up and put an end to this unexpected torture.

In all my years of immortality, I had never experienced a desire this overwhelming. I had never been so vulnerable to committing this kind of atrocity. My record was clean. With guidance, I had been able to restrain myself from the temptation of human blood. Of course, instinct is not easily fought. Sometimes the abstinence was painful. But never like this.

A dozen scenarios on how to kill this poor human boy crossed my mind, and I combatted every single one with the last miserable shred of self control I had left. I had never exerted so much effort. The toil was something hazily reminiscent of human exhaustion, weighing heavily onto me.

I had no choice but to end his life. There was no other way.

He awkwardly settled into the seat next to me, aware of some unknown hostility, but unaware of the ferocity raging within, unaware of the way his blood sang to me, inviting me in, inviting me to betray all my years of discipline, effort, and tolerance. Inviting me to betray my family.

Despite the absolute consumption, by some miracle, I resisted.

I desperately clung to the thought of my family. Rosalie. Esme. Carlisle. Alice. Emmett. Jasper.

They loved me. They would forgive me for this detestable, inexorable act. They would understand. They wouldn’t harbor any judgment.

But how could I let them down in this way? Everything about who we are, everything about what unites us and bonds us is intricately traced back to the compassion that rules over our lives. It’s what makes us different from others of our kind. It’s what allows us to retain some remnants of the humanity we’ve lost. So just as I’ve done before, I would withstand human blood now. No matter the agony that accompanies the resistance.

I took one last deep breath. The scent washed down my throat, burning me alive from the inside out.

I wouldn’t dare to breath for the next torturous hour. It was uncomfortable to forgo the sensation, but the consequences that would follow if I did breathe had far worse implications.

Could I last that long? What was I trying to prove? Was the possibility of a lapse in the best of my judgment worth not succumbing to the honest truth – that I had more weakness in the face of human blood than I thought?

Perhaps Emmett might make fun of me. Perhaps Jasper might secretly appreciate someone else struggling more than he did. But Carlisle and Esme wouldn’t see any weakness in leaving. They’d be proud of me for making this decision. They’d understand.

The last of the students were arriving from lunchtime. Now was the greatest opportunity to escape without drawing too much attention. In my peripheral, I saw the boy open his mouth to begin to speak to me.

If I didn’t leave now, I never would. My resolve was slipping away with every thud of the boy’s heart.

I got up and walked to the front of the classroom a little too fast.

“Mr. Molina?” I asked, my voice tight. The biology teacher looked up from a lesson plan he was reviewing, his eyes startled as he registered my face. I heard his heartbeat pick up from the surprise.

“I’m feeling a little... unwell. May I be excused?” I utilized the last of my breath, hoping the subtle begging in my voice didn’t prompt more questions.

Mr. Molina recollected himself, his eyebrows pulling together in slight concern along with confusion. The Cullens were never sick.

“Of course, Miss Cullen. Do you need a nurse’s pass-” He began before I cut him off, resentfully taking another tormenting breath. The scent sent my mind reeling. I fought for coherency in my thoughts.

I didn’t need to work to put on a show; I probably looked pale and sick enough.

“No thank you,” I spoke quickly, desperate for the relief of fresh, untainted air.

“Alright, then. I hope you feel better-” I was out of the room before he could finish the rest of the statement. The bell for class rang. The hallways were empty, so I risked the charade and began to move at an inhuman speed around the corner. Only when I had exited the building did I allow myself to breathe again. I gasped, nearly choking on the mouthfuls of clean air when I reached the car. My head was still spinning as I climbed into the drivers’ seat. I gave little thought to worrying if my quick movements in the classroom would reveal too much. I hoped that the students were too focused on finishing up their leftover conversations from lunch to notice. 

With a jolt, I realized I was not alone in the car. In the passenger seat sat my tiny sister.

“Bella?” She asked, her pitch-black eyes unable to convey the concern that was etched on the rest of her pixie-like features.

“Alice,” I breathed. I had been so distracted with my own thoughts I hadn’t even paid any attention to the proximity of the familiar vanilla and jasmine fragrance of her skin. What was wrong with me today?

“Are you alright? I saw…”

I winced, knowing what she must have seen.

“I’m fine. I just… I-... I don’t know what happened…” The words flew rapidly out of my mouth.

“Do you need help? Should I grab the boys? Or would you like to leave-”

“No! No. It’s really not...a big deal. I’m just going to… I promise I’m fine. I won’t go back there-” I gulped, the venom filling my mouth as I even considered returning to the class where he sat. Alice’s eyes widened, so I stopped the thought in its tracks. “Rosalie has a free period right now. I think I’ll go find her. I’ll see you when school is over.”

I reached for the door, turning away from her, shame filling me, making me unwilling to face her any longer. Her slender hand grabbed my other wrist, pulling me to a stop. “I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t. I’m fine, Alice!” I pulled my hand away too defensively. Regret replaced the shame for a moment. “Sorry.”

I left her alone in the car, feeling guilty.

I knew it was risky to utilize my sense of smell, but following the sweet, warm aroma of orange blossom, marshmallow, and roses – and avoiding anywhere remotely near the science wing – I found my other sister alone in an empty classroom. Now that it had been distinguished from the rest, I could still smell the boy, but with more distance between us, I fought the temptation off.

“You’re not in class?” She asked as she typed into a computer, her back turned to me. It looked as though she was searching for some car parts. Even though I helped her in the garage sometimes, after all these years I was still no better at identifying anything related to automobiles.

“Rose...” I began, before stopping short, unsure of what to say.

She turned around in an indiscernible millisecond, her breathtaking face worried at the tone of my voice. “What’s wrong?”

She reached for me consolingly. Though I didn’t need the rest – I could stand still for hours on end and never feel tired – I sat on the floor beside her chair, hugging my knees to my chest, my eyes fixated on the dust deep in the roots of the rough, outdated carpet.

Her silky hands smoothly brushed through my hair, patiently waiting for me to build up the courage to speak. It felt nice.

After a few seconds, she spoke up. “Bella, you’re worrying me.”

I sighed.

“I’ve never...struggled this way before,” I admitted, exasperated with myself.

I could see that she was nodding out of the corner of my eye, immediately understanding. “That’s nothing to be ashamed about, Bella.”

I didn’t need to see her face to know her perfect lips were set into a deep frown. She wasn’t lying to me, but I knew to her, this existence was everything to be ashamed about.

“I won’t pretend that I don’t find myself...repulsed with...well, what we are. That’s no secret to anyone.” Her musical laughter had a dark edge to it. “But I’ve spent enough time for all of us hating myself for the impulses we have and the tragedy of our existence. You needn’t be so hard on yourself. It’s alright to...” She trailed off, selecting different words. “We’ve chosen an abnormal path in this non-life of ours. The terrible consequences of what we are are normal” – her hands froze in my hair briefly saying the word – “so try to let go of the shame I know you’re feeling, though I don’t blame you for feeling that way.”

She paused for a moment before adding, “you know we won’t allow you to harm anyone.”

I bit down on my lower lip. I was glad I came to Rosalie. She didn’t think I was being overdramatic the way Emmett might have.

Though I deeply loved my mother from my human life, there hadn’t been much maternal guidance. We had a strong bond, but I was far more of the caretaker than she was. I had been very lucky in this immortal life. Esme treated me as her own daughter, and I became truly taken care of. Just as Esme became the most loving mother figure in all the ways that counted, Rosalie became the very best protective older sister. My life had no shortage of supportive femininity and womanhood.

I heard a springy, featherlight approach of fast footsteps.

“I told you not to follow me,” I grumbled.

Alice poked her tongue out at me as she entered the room and fluttered to my other side, joining my other sister in stroking my head. “You’ll forgive me. I didn’t want to be left out of a sister moment.” 

Her words brought half a smile to my face.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be comforted by Rosalie’s words and the soft feeling of my sisters’ hands in my hair.

Yes, it was undeniable what I was. I could never change the fact. But I could change the fate of this boy, and I could deny myself the instincts that identified me this way. I could deny myself Edward Masen.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

The Lullaby of Howling Winds

Drifting in and out of sleep, the lullaby of howling winds never let him fully rest. Those winds carried sand over the wasteland. They carried sounds of creatures in the distance, of the clanking of metal from a faraway fortress-city occupied by orcs.

Cade sat in the shade of a jagged rock, tucked away in a spot that shielded him from those merciless winds sweeping past. His horse had perished from its injuries along the way. The snapping of muscles and the crunch of bones still echoed in his mind, grisly remnants of the imagery of him putting the loyal beast of burden out of its misery.

His weary legs had carried him this far, but he needed rest. The dry heat of these blasted lands had chapped his lips and he yearned for water, haunted by the hollow weight of the empty waterskin hanging from his side.

Pebbles crunched underfoot. In a flash, Cade gripped his sword in both hands in a trained reflex, blade out at the ready, pointing at the figure that had appeared in front of him, appeared from the darkness in between his eyelids opening and closing in his delirious haze.

A figure with limbs as thin as reeds, standing tall before him. Pointy ears like an elf. Eyes not black, thus a half-elf, Cade recognized through the delirium. The thin man tilted his head. A glint of madness flashed in his eyes. His mouth spread into a lopsided smile.

Cade returned a smile of his own. But inwardly, he was alarmed.

As night neared, the stranger had introduced himself as Harrokh and shared his water with him. Cade took careful sips from it, tasting no poison in it and trying to avoid the shock that might come from dehydration and drinking too greedily.

They had not spoken other than exchanging names. Cade took his time, studying the thin man’s every movement while he continued to recover, sensing he would need all his strength to survive.

Harrokh even made a small campfire for them to warm themselves against the unforgiving cold as it crept across the craggy wastes of the Cinderlands. Yet Cade read no shivers in the thin man’s motions, saw no sign of him being touched by the elements.

The fire was a mere gesture. A guise.

“Are you a crusader?” asked Harrokh.

“What gave it away? The holy symbol of Old Deadeye?” replied Cade hoarsely, ending with a pained grin and clearing his throat.

Harrokh smiled. Wider than before.

Hungrier.

Toothier. Cade maintained the smile upon his lips, using it to mask his disgust over the fever he sensed just by looking into Harrokh’s eyes. He could smell it on him. The rot of decay, the stench of unearthed corpses.

Ghoul fever.

“So, you hunt all abominations? Never suffer such creatures as demons and the walking dead?” Harrokh said, stoking the fire with a stick, causing embers to rise like fireflies.

“Something like that,” Cade muttered.

His trusty bow and a quiver of seven arrows rested on one of the rocks nearby, but he had no plans on using that. His sword rested against his shoulder, leaning not at the ready anymore, but also close enough that he might grab and raise it if the thin man made any hostile move.

He continued to study Harrokh’s features. Freakishly long fingers, sharp fingernails.

“Not very talkative for an itinerant priest, are you?” Harrokh asked. “Don’t make a lot of converts that way, I reckon?”

Cade chuckled, but it ended in a raspy cough. Cleared his throat again.

“We don’t make converts, friend,” he said, trying to utter the last word with as much sincerity as he could muster. “We serve the people in whatever way they need us to.”

Harrokh had no pack, no belongings other than the waterskin. A waterskin that rarely saw use, judging by how stale the water had tasted. The only other things he appeared to have on him were the ragged clothing on his back and a bronze skinning knife hanging by his side.

“Tell me a story, priest. What brings you to these desolate wastes? Do you not run into trouble with the Shoanti hunters? Or the orcs?”

Genuine curiosity. Harrokh stared into Cade’s eyes, something smoldering between them. Perhaps he wanted to know if someone might come looking for him.

“No trouble with Shoanti. I have an agreement with one of the clans out here. We hunted a demon together mere weeks ago,” Cade said.

Harrokh nodded slowly.

“No trouble with orcs, either. I can stand my ground. Unfortunately, Quentin didn’t make it out of the last encounter.”

“Friend of yours?”

Cade nodded, averted his gaze to focus on the fire, and swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

“Yes. Good horse. Fought well. We braved many perils together and his end was not dignified.”

From the peripheral of his vision, he noticed the twitch around the corners of Harrokh’s lips. The hint of a grin that the ghoul fought back down, wrestled under control.

Had he eaten Quentin’s remains back there? It might explain how he discovered him out here.

Harrokh broke the silence that Cade’s thoughts occupied, saying “Didn’t answer my question, though. What, really, brings you out here?”

Cade arched a brow, curious about the ghoul’s curiosity. He had never heard of these creatures being this talkative, this inquisitive. He had never heard of them being this sophisticated.

“I know that many cults hide out in the mountains out here, worshipping demons and summoning them. I was—I am on a quest to hunt them all. Learn of them. Root them out.”

Harrokh chuckled, but it erupted into a cackle, ending on a high and crazed pitch. The shrillness of it caused the hairs on the back of Cade’s neck to stand.

“Sounds like something personal, aye? Something—”

“Yes,” Cade interrupted him sharply. “It’s always something personal, friend. Nobody acts without motive, lest they are beast.”

Harrokh still smiled at him over the small flames of the campfire, dancing merrily in between them. This time, the crackling of burning wood filled the silence. This time, Cade broke it.

“Now tell me a story, traveler. What brings you out here? You’re not in any of those abhorrent cults, are ya?” Cade asked with a smirk.

This wiped the smile from Harrokh’s face.

“As late as the hour is, I respect that you will respect our shared hospitality around this quaint little fire,” said the ghoul. “I admit, I am disciple to the Lady Despair.”

Cade licked his lips and really began feeling the weariness in his own legs. He felt pins and needles in his feet but barely moved. His fingers twitched, ready to clutch his sword by the hilt and swing it around and run it right through this ghoul—but he decided to hear him out first.

Not every day that a crusader got to speak this closely with the undead.

Was this even a normal ghoul? He wondered.

“Did the Pallid Princess grace you with—did she make you what you are now?”

Harrokh licked his lips. His tongue was long and pointed, like a serpent’s. His fangs growing longer, and sharper. Teeth too numerous to resemble a normal man’s mouth.

“Of course. Some might argue an indirect rescue, but my faith and my path led me to it. My devotion to Her was what saved me from certain destruction,” Harrokh spoke.

The fire crackled and Harrokh stoked it with more force than before. Embers exploded from it, flitting away in every direction.

“This sounds like a long story,” Cade said.

“The nights grow longer. We have time, do we not?”

Cade raised a shoulder for a one-sided shrug, feeling the exhaustion still creeping up on him like cold hands caressing him, tingling underneath his skin everywhere now. In direct defiance of how alert he felt, how cautious he was. How ready he was to fight this creature.

“Yes, please. Humor me.”

“I was arrogant. Sought to show up the leader of our covenant by discovering the resting place of a Thassilonian God-King before her. Hoped to find great power there, with which I might have become the ultimate master of our faith.”

Cade just stared at him. Glared. Did nothing to interrupt him, silently urging him to continue. He marveled in the ghoul’s audacity. Did he really underestimate him this much? Or did this creature possess power so great that he simply did not care?

“Close to starvation, I reached that fabled place. Xin-Shalast. How exactly, I barely remember,” Harrokh recounted. His words trailed off and his gaze rested upon the fire, the focus leaving his eyes as his thoughts followed his words.

“There, giants walked, so large that their shin bones towered twice the height of a grown man. They stood watch over this strange city’s incredible walls, ancient structures older than anything I have ever seen, yet untouched by the sands of time. Standing strong and beautiful, despite the frozen wastes that surrounded the place. Other horrid monsters dwelt there as well.”

Cade scoffed. Harrokh either ignored him or was lost in his own memories.

“They feasted on the bones of the few pilgrims such as I who somehow managed to reach this place. Where a powerful miasma enclosed the valley, one that turns even shadows of the dead into wrathful spirits. I crawled like a cockroach, scurrying from hiding place to hiding place, until he found me.”

Cade arched a brow and interjected, “He? Who’s he?”

“He made me his slave, but he allowed me to subsist on carrion, to walk in his shadow, to hide and only strike out to help him and his other servants whenever their body and wit might be outmatched by the beautiful abominations that ruled the city.”

Fingers twitching again, Cade started weighing how much longer he would hear out this babble. He would need to sleep eventually and sleeping in the company of a hungry ghoul could only spell out one single outcome.

“My master—Mokmurian—he entered a tremendous palace without me. And when he emerged again—”

Harrokh paused. His eyes locked onto Cade’s. They glistened with a wetness that betrayed reverence and sadness.

“When he emerged from that palace, he wielded magic befit of a god. The disdain in his eyes, for me, and his other subjects—he felt like a god. He saw us as pathetic wretches, ready to discard us like broken tools. Some reveled in it. I felt only disgust. He saw it in me. Saw it in my eyes. Threw me off a cliff without second thought.”

Harrokh’s eyes sparkled with an insanity and despair that Cade could not fathom even if he tried. He wanted to say something, his mouth drooping half open, but no words came. Cade wanted to clear his throat, but something was wrong.

“I survived because I had feasted upon the undead. I had become one with Her curse. The fever took me, and I lived beyond life. Rearranged my broken bones, ignored my battered body. Could now regain my strength by feasting upon any blood and flesh, both living and dead. Could not so readily die of mere cold or thirst or starvation anymore.”

Cade had heard enough. Tried to grip his sword, but his strength failed him. His gloved fingers slipped past the hilt, barely gripped it, and a dizziness set in as he willed himself to rise from where he sat. Yet his body disobeyed.

“I sought for so, so long to find that city again. To return to Xin-Shalast. But when he cast me from that cliff, he ripped the memories from me! He discarded me like trash, and without my master to guide me, I have no chance of finding that beautiful city again,” Harrokh said. His voice trembled with reverence, fear, and desire.

The sparkle in his eyes wavered, making way for that previous glint of madness and hunger.

Cade struggled to move. The gravel and rocks beneath him crunched, cracked under the combined weight of his heavy body and armor. His limbs refused to do as he wanted. Something far worse than fatigue had seized his body.

“Erastil, you bastard—I will not,” Cade hissed, swearing at his god. It took all his strength to mutter more, “I will burn your damned mead halls if I die like this—”

Harrokh emitted another one of those shrill cackles. It sent no shivers down Cade’s spine. It only fueled the righteous fury welling up in his gut.

The ghoul rose and his fingernails began to enlarge, taking the form of talon-like claws.

“Who needs places, priest? All we need—is to eat,” Harrokh said with a sneer. “Now let the poison do its work. Close your tired little eyelids over that soft, delectable jelly that you see through.”

Cade gritted his teeth so hard until his gums started bleeding. Harrokh took a first, menacing step towards him, rounding the fire and closing in. His fangs glistened with reflections of the campfire’s light. His grin was hideous. Monstrous.

He lunged at Cade and his claws sank into the crusader’s flesh, slicing through metal and leather armor like needles piercing a thick hide with ease. Cade screamed out in agony, followed by a shout of anger and defiance.

Bones crunched and snapped as Cade yanked them around, for he had managed to swing the sword up just in time, in one last ditch effort, seizing his one and only chance. He twisted the sword’s blade with whatever ounces of strength he had left over, staring into the eyes of Harrokh, watching the unlife ooze out of them as he twisted the blade once more, breaking ribs and gutting the humanoid monstrosity.

The fire danced in the reflections cast upon the tip of the blade, sticking out from Harrokh’s back. His greedy hunger had driven him right onto Cade’s sword.

Cade yelled again in pain as he shoved the dying ghoul from him, and the claws cut through skin on the way back out. He kicked at the ghoul but delivered little force. The ghoul thrashed around one more time, flailing its arms, but Harrokh only scraped against rocks and the surface of Cade’s mail now.

Divine rage flowed through the crusader as he arched his back and managed to lift the sword one last time, bringing it down, crashing right into Harrokh’s neck as he lay prone.

Not enough force to sever the head, but enough to crack the spine and cut through most of the neck. Cade shouted again, channeling that rage and chopping Harrokh’s ghastly head off after a few more swings.

He then collapsed back onto the ground.

His strength had finally escaped him. At least, he reckoned, the ghoul lay dead beside him. Thick, tar-like mucus oozed out of the new orifices that Cade had hacked open in the abominable undead creature’s body. Harrokh’s claws twitched one last time, then the ghoul’s remains turned deathly still.

Cade panted and grunted as he touched the injuries that Harrokh had left in his own sides, not bothering to look at them beyond seeing his own blood upon his trembling gloved hands.

His consciousness was fading fast. The edges around his field of vision began to blacken.

The last things crossing his mind were that he would have to figure out what kind of odorless poison the ghoul had used. And how he had almost died without completing his quest. How he worried about the fire and it possibly attracting orcs, or other menaces like Harrokh. Or its absence, once it died out on its own, failing to keep predators and scavengers at bay.

He wanted to swear at his god, Erastil, again, but the poison forced slumber upon him.

Cade passed out, sleeping to the lullaby of the howling winds.

—Submitted by Wratts

[demoncryptspanties]

Time After Time

part 3

Masterlist, Part1, Part 2

A/N okay I apologise for this chapter being sort of short, I think there will be like another 3 or 4 after this but enjoy.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

This bliss seemed to last the whole 3 years. You and Ambrose seemed to be joined together by fate. The two of you participated in Lupercalia once, in your last year but again it wasn’t the best night the two of you had together. Lilac’s course was an extra year due to her indiscretions leading her to fail the potion class which she decided to retake so the two of you had remained close.

She acted as the family you didn’t have, excusing Angelica, and Tom became a close friend. You hadn’t spoken to your mother at all, your father at least once a month but even keeping to that seemed difficult due to how busy the both of you were. Your parents had divorced, that seeming like the best option and your father had moved back to his old home, a relic on the edge of the witch’s territory.

Jude had yet to take his place as high priest and therefore although you could have visited you decided against it. The hostility that would have come from the community especially your mother would have been too much and whereas if you went alone it would have been bad, taking Ambrose would have been even worse.

Your time at the school was calm, as normal as you would expect it to be, you kept to the curfew after that night and kept the Friday tradition of going to the river. The weather was always good there, the sky blue and just warm enough. Above all Ambrose made you feel safe and at home, never bored because he would always be around the corner with somewhere new to explore or something new to talk about. Overall, you would argue that it was the best 3 years of your life. You had grown and matured and your relationship by most standards was pretty perfect.

The only thing is that he had yet to introduce you to any of his family. Although close to his aunts who had agreed to house you after your course, you had yet to see let alone meet them. His uncle, as distant as he is didn’t seem bothered about you either.

It was days after your final piece was due, you were now waiting for the results of your efforts. Ambrose had tried to keep you as occupied as he could after you had submitted it but you both had given up after day two and decided to stay in the house until you go the letter. You were comfortable snuggled into Ambrose’s shoulder as he was turned away from you. Your hands drew patterns across his chest and stomach, still in a sleepy haze.

“I am probably the most skilled person you have ever met when it comes to apparitions” He mumbled turning to you with a playful smirk.

“You are an arrogant man and I hope this lie haunts you forever.” You said offering him a lazy smile.

“Stop being so dramatic. I am probably the best in the house at apparitions.” He pulled you closer, one of his hands resting on your cheek.

“Look, I have gotten better so that is actually a gross overstatement of your abilities.” He pulled you onto of him, making you gasp and giggle. You gave him a quick peck before moving out of his arms.

“Prove it.” He said. Raising your eyebrow slightly, you conjured a set of fish almost identical to the ones in the river where you first met. They swam close to him and then in a spiral moving towards the ceiling and then back down to circle him and dissipate near the floor.

“Okay, I admit, you have gotten better. But I also have.” He raised his hands muttering under his breath. Schools of fish filled the room, chasing each other and moving in circles around you. He included coral and seaweed on the floor and a bigger fish at towards the ceiling. Although the room itself was small, the abundance of glowing fish made it seem marginally larger.

Your eyes were full of wonder staring at them, but while the apparitions themselves took a large amount of concentration he was focussed on you and your reactions. Truthfully, he had been trying to do this at this scale for a year now, it’s more difficult when you have no visible reference to go back to. More so if you haven’t got material of the whatever you are trying to replicate. The look on your face was worth the trouble.

You two had stayed together as a pair the entire day showing each other small charms and spells while gorging on fruits and wine. It was truly a day to remember and you did years later when it mattered the most.

The following day brought the results of your final piece. While the marks weren’t as high as you were hoping, you passed and that was enough. When you had received the letter from the academy for gifted students, Ambrose had been quick to wrap his arms around you, lips against your hair. He had read through the piece itself and being a prodigy himself he was beyond proud of you. His exacts words were “This includes such precision in emotion, you really must have drawn from your own experience. It is raw and authentic which is something you cannot teach. It’s good, and I’m not just saying that because I love you”

The following day consisted of you and him packing. You had already booked a place on a boat back to America feeling the urge to go back to a warmer country. Although you had learned to love many aspects of your time here, the weather was not it. You didn’t think you would ever get used to the constant change, you could never just look at the sky and conclude that it would not rain today because an hour later you would be soaked and an hour after that there could be such intense heat you would think you were in Egypt.

You also had decided to move in with Ambrose. The Aunties were happy to have you and his uncle was happy to have you join the coven. Although bittersweet to some degree you had spoken with your dad who was happy with the outcome, after you had promised to visit him.

The three-day journey to the docks was overall grimy and boring. Although Ambrose did his best to keep you as occupied as he could, his love of napping and your inability to get comfortable in the carriage meant that you for at least 4 hours each day you had no company, so you wrote. A habit you picked up when you started the course in order to both practise and fill time when you had little to do. Most of it was nonsense, sometimes you would come out with the odd poem you were proud of but other times it was just a collection of nothing.

Unloading to put on the boat which Ambrose had insisted on doing himself and waiting around for the boat to actually leave itself had given you time to sort out your thought of the last 3 days. You had filled the notebook with mostly nonsense thoughts which you tore out unless the brought back a specific feeling you wanted to remember. You set your notebook down on the cabin and passed out the minute your head hit the bed in your cabin.

Ambrose had wanted to see the boat go off, so he didn’t join you until later when you were already asleep. Still feeling awake due to him napping not 3 hours earlier he pottered around the cabin. At first, picking up a book from the bottom of your trunk but he soon turned his attention to the stuffed notebook on the desk.

He sifted through it settling on one which he had actually watched you write.

Like horses, they rode into the sun as if they knew nothing was wrong,

But when hand in hand they appeared with passion and the whole universe turned to gather.

They watched the star's fashion a rope to tether themselves together.

And when they died, they watched as the stars burned brighter than forever.

And when there was not a spec left the universe still remembered,

The two broken stars who went into the sun and came out together.

He pocketed the paper thinking that you wouldn’t miss it that much with all the other things in there and how he watched you throw out half the things you wrote. He thought you were good, he thought you were more than good. Probably better than himself though he would never admit that. He found it unfair that your gender had prohibited you from studying at Oxford, more so that even at the witch’s school you had not been judged fairly due to you being better than the male students. Although you kept with tradition and still did mostly what seemed as more feminine subjects, it wasn’t unusual to find women in the writing course or the conjuring course and therefore it would make sense that by this point they would judge fairly but they had not.

In his opinion, you were robbed of a distinction but of course, he was biased. He saw everything you did as perfect, better than perfect and connected deeply with all the writing. Most likely because it was often about him, but when it was ambiguous enough you didn’t admit that, saying something along the lines of “I was embodying the character of that book I was reading.”

He looked over at your sleeping form, eyes full of warmth and adoration. Your head was snuggled into the pillow. You couldn’t have been comfortable, with the terrible wooden bed so with a spell he piled you up on an artificial mattress. His Aunt Hilda had taught him to do it a few years ago for this exact reason, something about moss feeling like a cloud underneath you.

You hadn’t met either of them yet, but after 3 years of knowing Ambrose, they felt like they knew you. He had mentioned you in every one of his letters since you had met, and you featured in every mirror conversation he had with them. They had been ecstatic when he told them you two were together, even Zelda squealed a little in excitement. Definitely overshadowed by Hilda’s own joy.

It was for this reason that he took your hand mirror and opened a link to Hilda’s own mirror. She was greeted by Zelda who had been expecting him.

“Sorry dear, Hilda is just writing a list of questions so that she knows what to cook Y/N when she gets here.” Zelda had a sly smirk on her face.

“It’s good to see you too auntie. Is there anything you would like to ask before we get there,” you shuffled slightly in your sleep getting used to the new noise of quiet conversation among the sound of the sea.

“Yes well. What is her favourite colour, we cannot have her feeling uncomfortable in her own room?” Zelda lit a pipe holding it to her lips before blowing out and obscuring his view.

“Peach but I don’t think that matters. She can just sleep in my room, with me.” Ambrose said after a few beats.

“No that won’t do. Your room still doesn’t have a bed and I will not have you having sex in my house.” Zelda’s eyes twinkled slightly despite her blunt wording.

“We are witches and warlocks what about Lupercalia. Isn’t sexuality encouraged?” Ambrose himself shared the same twinkle. Hilda entered the room a moment after.

“I suppose your right” Zelda said nothing more moving to let her sister sit closer to the mirror.

“Okay well first of all hello Ambrose. Is that her in the back, ooo, she’s pretty, move the mirror a little.” He moved the mirror upwards and turned it around giving them a full view of you. You were in the same position as before, face slightly obscured by the pillow.

“Yes, she is pretty, more so when you can see her whole face,” He chuckled lightly as if remembering a moment.

Hilda put him out of his daze shuffling her paper slightly and frowning to herself, “Okay well does she eat meat.”

“Yes.” His gaze was more towards you than Hilda himself. He often did this in the morning. Even though he loves his sleep, he somehow still manages to wake up a good hour earlier than you. Sometimes he’ll just sit for the full hour staring and thinking, other times you wake up because of his stare but most of the time he writes.

You never seem to see what he writes even though at times you watch him do it, he even reads some pieces out to you but the various notebooks that he actually writes them in you can never find. Not that you were looking.

Zelda and Hilda had gotten into a little spat, so Ambrose was free to lose himself in you, “Ambrose, just what doesn’t she eat. That would be an easier question.” Zelda said clearly, overtaking Hilda’s small protests.

“Nothing, she isn’t that keen on pork but not so much that she wouldn’t eat it if given to her,” Zelda gave her sister a stern look and got up to leave. The two said their goodbyes to him, Hilda promising to make a magnificent meal.

He felt the need to be close to you after that, huddling behind your body, he put an arm over your stomach, you snuggle deeper into him with a soft hum. The sway of the ship and warmth of your bodies on each other lulled you both to sleep.

The journey from there seemed to come so much quicker than you would have hoped. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of the Spellman household, while Ambrose was shaking with what you thought was anticipation, you were so lightheaded if it wasn’t for Ambrose’s grip on you, you probably would have fallen over.

The door opened before he could reach to knock, revealing a blonde woman with a large smile. “Ambrose darling and you must be Y/N” It was as if her smile healed you because you perked up immediately.

“Yes, that is me. Aunt Hilda right” A shy smile revealed itself as Ambrose held your hand a little tighter.

“Yes. By Satan’s horns, you are so pretty. You really weren’t lying Ambrose. She’s like a doll.” You giggled slightly at the compliment, another figure this time red-headed emerging behind her.

“Let’s not scare her before she enters the house Hilda and stop smothering her.” Zelda had a teasing smile on her face, leading the two of you into the house with your luggage floating an inch off the ground next to you.

Ambrose put a reassuring hand on your back and gave you a quick peck before walking a couple steps in front of you. Selene wrapped herself tighter on your arm mirroring your own nervousness.

The evening consisted of you unpacking, a quick meal of beef stew from Hilda but no visit from Ambrose’s uncle who had said he was going to be there. Ambrose didn’t seem fussed about it but you held his and the whole way through dinner regardless.

By the time you were settled in bed, you were beyond knackered. The sky was pitch black, the moon not offering a soft glow that night which did little to ease your nervousness. You fell asleep easily in your own room and remained in a dreamless slumber the entirety of the night.

When you woke it seemed to be about midday, Ambrose choosing not to wake you since you seemed so tired. You wrapped yourself with one of his robes and proceeded downstairs to the kitchen. A man in a suit with a mischievous but inviting smile was sitting at the table opposite Ambrose on the table you ate dinner. Zelda was sitting on his left, but Hilda was nowhere to be seen.

You walked down carefully not to disturb the conversation, pulling the robe tighter around you and settling down on Ambrose’s right putting a hand on his shoulder so he knew you were there. He put a hand almost passively on your thigh under the table the conversation stopping.

You put a handout and introduced yourself, he did the same offering you a soft smile when he took your hand. He was Ambrose’s uncle Edward. The reason he gave to missing dinner was that he was in a meeting, but the way Ambrose explained to you while he looked with the same smile suggested otherwise.

Edward had asked about your schooling with a distant interest which led to an hour-long conversation which seemed to make Ambrose increasingly uncomfortable and leading to Zelda practically throwing him out of the house with the guise that he had another meeting.

You turned to him with a worried expression, “Ambrose what did I miss. What did he say?”

He seemed to contemplate something for a moment, his fingers drumming on the table lightly before he answered. “He isn’t exactly happy that I stayed for such a long time with no actual purpose. He’ll be okay in a few days. Anyways you said we would go to meet Angelica next week and then you wanted to go across to Central America for a year.”

“Yeah, there’s a coven of witches somewhere there who are experts in healing charms and herbology whom I’d like to do research with.”

“Central America is a big place to look for a small coven.” Although he didn’t seem distant in the conversation there still seemed to be something weighing on him.

“That is why we are going to see my sister, she studied there during my second year. She said she would set us up and whatever and I’m getting way too ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

He chuckled lightly and kissed your head, “No. Well yes but we already agreed that you were going but I got an offer to go to Rome for something or another. I really want to go, and it would make sense since that coven is basically all women and its more your forte than mine.”

You cut him off with a peck, “That’s fine, it works out great, are you going to go for the full year or?”

“Yeah, yeah the full year. I’ll go with you to meet Angelica but after that, we shall diverge.”

You hummed lightly and finished your tea.

The next week was comfortable for you. In a way you felt more at home than you ever had, staying with the aunties had given you new people to know and a new environment to explore. It seemed like the beginning of a journey that you were happy to take.

Ambrose seemed a little distant but his happiness to see you never wavered, he was just busy with something which is the excuse he gave to you, but you didn’t push. You had yet to see his uncle again, but it seemed for the best like the aunties were deliberately ushering you around so you wouldn’t run into him.

The day it came for the two of you to leave it didn’t seem any different, the aunties said goodbye with sincerity and the two of you left to meet your sister.

The journey seemed longer than expected but easy once you passed into central America. She was staying in a small town by the border to meet you, but it seemed more like a village. The locals were kind and you found your way to her quickly.

She opened the door like she had sensed you there and ushered you inside out of the heat. “So, my favourite siblings how good it is to see you after all this time.”

You both raised an eyebrow at her remark but neither of you commented on it.” Well,, Angelica, we spoke yesterday, and I was busy packing. Also, I’m your only sibling, I have to be your favourite.”

“Yeah well you make it rather difficult,” she said with a smirk. Before you were able to respond she addressed Ambrose with a much more serious tone. “So, you’re leaving us for Rome then?”

“Yup, I’m leaving tomorrow when you go on your way to the coven.” Angelica seemed unnerved about his statement and shuffled uncomfortably in her seat.

“Just be careful. I don’t have a good feeling about Europe in general in all honesty.” You both looked at her in a little confusion but after a second Angelicas, serious nature seemed to dissipate as quickly as it appeared, and her friendly nature was back.

The three of you spoke a little but retired to bed early. Ambrose had left before you woke up but kissed your forehead and left a note saying that he loved you before he left. You couldn’t help but feel as if there was something wrong but didn’t think too much of it.

You left that day, starting off by car and then moving on foot for the remainder of the journey. It took you about 2 days to get there and you were greeted by women from all different places.

The women held a feast for the two of you and your education started the next day. It was done in three components, the first being herbs, mixtures and whatnot. Your teacher reminded you a lot of Hilda, she was smart and kind, forever with a warm smile on her face. The second was hexing, turns out while also wreaking havoc they could be used for good if you knew what to do. The third was summoning, although demon summoning was something you were familiar with there were, any other beings that you could summon that would be of a different help.

Your first week was spent learning these things, with no word from Ambrose. The aunties hadn’t heard from him either which made you worry a little, but it had only been a week. The next couple of weeks were the same. You had joined Angelica with taking over responsibilities of day to day living and settled in well there. Everyone was kind and loving and you felt very much at home here.

You had spoken to Ambrose twice, he seemed distant but about the same as usual. You again thought nothing of it which should have been the first clue that something was wrong.

You had been at the coven for about half a year when the aunties contacted you. Ambrose and you had spoken once a week, up until it became once every two weeks and every now and again, he forgot. The distance between you two had dissipated but he was still distracted.

You hadn’t heard from him for 3 weeks when the aunties told you to come back. You got back to their house in record time. The women of the coven said that you were welcome back any time and let you leave with a gentle understanding of why. Angelica said that she would leave in a week to her small apartment near you to be there if you needed her.

[tuwam]

tact.

“who’s younghyun?”

the question comes later. days later.

@consilian }

there’s a lot that yoojun’s learning. less about the things he studies, the words he has to memorize and the procedures he has to know as well as breathing. that’s easier, absorbing and repeating until it becomes as easy as breathing. that stuff he thinks he can play off well, so well that when wonwoo quizzes him sometimes yoojun will see a smile. it makes yoojun’s cheeks swell up.

but one thing he can’t do as easy as repeating and repeating and repeating. as easy as breathing even, is the communication thing, the cues and the knowledge that comes easily to others. it’s probably easier for some, ones who weren’t raised in the wilderness or by a man who’d only recently upgraded his cellular device. or perhaps, who still calls it a cellular device and not a cellphone. yoojun remembers the slight teasing he received from the elder pack members, the ones who found integration into society easier, earlier than yoojun.

it comes from slight words, slang he’s picked up from children shows. no one is able to understand how he can comprehend his textbooks but can’t quite pick up on the nicknames and slang they throw around. but he does, he has to.

these things are harder to understand. wonwoo helps but wonwoo doesn’t have the guide to every situation there is and yoojun has come to learn to face them, awkward stares, red ears and all. like now, when soyeon whips around to him so fast that she nearly falls from the stool. they’re at yoojun’s place, yoojun had been watching her scarf her bagel and half of his own in her mouth in fascination. she’s been smiling easier, admittedly there was a awkward patch after the nightmare, the worry had hung on her like a haze and it took a few days for her not to tiptoe around her. for her to be okay with not being okay.

they’re working on it. yoojun keeps telling wonwoo they need to talk about it but wonwoo has insisted it’s too early.

let her breathe yoojun.

and yoojun still doesn’t know what that means. what he does know is she’s eating more, she seems content in the seat and if he doesn’t ask now he’ll surely forget. so he asks and soyeon looks so bewildered she almost chokes on the bagel. wonwoo, who had been previously quizzing yoojun stops immediately, and yoojun feels the scold coming. his ears immediately flatten because soyeon’s eyes are wild - scared. it comes off her in waves nearly knocking yoojun backwards. he holds still.

wonwoo had been right.

‘yoojun.’ he sinks in his spot, chin coming to rest against the top of the counter. he wants to hide from soyeon’s gaze, wants to apologize, wants to hug her again - do something. his apology is a small whine from the back of his throat. whatever snapped soyeon to him starts to soften and the alarm that’s covered her body in red in his eyes starts to dissipate. she breathes, swallows and her scent starts to waft back in, tentative and gentle. yoojun doesn’t move, but his ears perk up when she reaches her hand over to him.

the ruffle is quick, fond and his nuzzles her palm with his nose.

“you call the name a lot - in your sleep.” he hasn’t received any okay that he should keep going with his question but soyeon’s smiling and if she needs him to stop she’d say so. that and well - her fingers playing in his hair do a good job of trying to distract him. wonwoo does the same thing he realizes. but this is more for her than him, yoojun watches soyeon take a deep breath, the grin remaining on her face before her hand removes so she can rest her chin in her palm, elbow perched on the counter. wonwoo’s taken to putting yoojun’s flash cards down, though he doesn’t dwell beside them, he continues cooking. it’s probably another effort to distract yoojun, but it won’t work.

‘he’s my - hm. well he’s my lover.’

the ladle sings against the stove and yoojun turns to look at wonwoo whose eyes are looking at soyeon now, scandalized. yoojun can’t quite make out the expression on his friend’s face. it’s rather new.

‘soyeon.’ the exasperation in his voice isn’t and yoojun feels both a giggle and a whine coming up. they do this to him all the time, they tend to share some sort of knowledge yoojun has no familiarity with and make a silent agreement to keep him out of it. not today.

“he’s someone you love!” yoojun’s indignant with his answer, perking up the minute he thinks wonwoo might switch the subject. because he knows this one! they don’t have to hide it from him! why wouldn’t he know what a lover is! there’s something, a hint of a chuckle leaving wonwoo’s lips before he turns away from them completely, and focuses on the food again.

‘he’s someone i love very much yes.’ “he’s someone you miss a lot too.”

that much yoojun knows. he’s picked up on it each time he’s found himself rushing to her side in the middle of the night. the worry, the desperation and soyeon always grasping for something, anything. more often than not it ends up being yoojun, though the last time it was both him and wonwoo. the ache he often sees in her eyes are gone for the moment, replaced much later, much more privately. he wants to help.

“i can find him!” wonwoo’s told him about making promises before he knows enough, so he switches his approach. “i can try!!” ‘yoojun.’ wonwoo’s voice is the same as always, a gentle warning, though it’s fond and when yoojun tilts his head to look at his friend the older is flicking the top of his head immediately. there’s this thing they’ve been talking about, tact. yoojun has come to realize he doesn’t have quite enough of it, to know when to stop or start, or speak or wait. he tries to look apologetic but when wonwoo still has a hint of smile, like he knows yoojun so well that he expects it ( because he does ) yoojun finds his ears wiggling and his smile staying.

‘yoo,’ soyeon’s voice is gentle as she starts, though, the sadness starts to creep in her eyes again. ‘where he is, you can’t go.’ yoojun only notices now, but wonwoo has stopped cooking in favor of leaning his elbow on yoojun’s shoulder. instinctively his head leans over for any comfort he can get. the depth of soyeon’s discomfort with this place, this topic, rolls over as much as the sadness. he wants to brace it for her, because she’s always doing it alone.

‘why not?’ it’s wonwoo who asks because yoojun’s trying to cope with all he feels around them.

‘put simply. it’s dangerous. put honestly, it’s a district head’s coven.’ that - is something yoojun definitely doesn’t understand. his eyes flit to wonwoo for explanation because soyeon’s looking at the other male expectantly, a strange glint in her eye. there’s silence after that, yoojun with a need to pull from someone. anyone. instead of responding wonwoo removes himself from yoojun’s shoulder, the warmth immediately making him lean back to chase it. yoojun tries to scream tell me without saying it, without bothering them. he wants them to be okay with telling him, comfortable. 

there’s a long way to that. wonwoo is flipping the scallion pancake, yoojun’s mouth waters and, ‘a district head is equivalent to your pack leader’s leader.’ he perks up instantly. “i’ve - never met him.” ‘and you probably shouldn’t. though i’m sure he’s considerably nicer than a district head coven. werewolves will wag their tails faster than they’ll snap someone’s neck. vampires aren’t quite the same.’ soyeon says it with a dry laugh leaving her lips later. wonwoo passes a dark liquid in a weird shaped glass her way. a whiff passes yoojun’s nose and his tongue sticks out in a gag at the unmistakable stench of alcohol. soyeon takes a sip regardless. ‘district heads aren’t people to meet and become friendly with. they’re the people you hope the friendly ones don’t meet.’

yoojun can’t imagine such a person. the pack’s leader back in the woods, hyunwoo, had admittedly been someone he wouldn’t introduce his university friends to. but he wasn’t a bad guy, just of a different style. it’d been how he’d explained his personality to wonwoo, who was equally happy to express his opinion. at the time, their trip had luckily come to an end. but a person so bitter, no, dangerous that people shouldn’t meet them? he doesn’t want to imagine.

‘younghyun is there. and everyday he’s there is another day i’m plagued with guilt. i miss him more than i can bear.’ the sips have turned into gulps, yoojun hand reaches out and soyeon holds it, her other still cradling the glass. 

“let’s go get him then.” laughter again, louder, still as dry. yoojun ducks his head. ‘we cannot. you definitely cannot.’ “but, you want to see him right?” ‘yoo.’ wonwoo’s warning is a press of a hand on his shoulder but soyeon’s pain amplifies the more he holds her hand and it’s pushing him to press on, to keep asking. ‘some things aren’t that simple.’ yoojun knows that, of course he does. but, ‘you want to help. i know.’ soyeon’s smile is small.

yoojun wants her to smile, genuinely, without worry. he’s asking a lot, but it’s all he wishes for them. her and wonwoo alike. he’s realizing that they’re plagued with more than is fair, with more than they wished for. all children probably ever wish for at first breath is to live. maybe not all but he’s sure they would’ve wished to live before they wished for this, born into it or not. it’s not fair. 

“how can i...” yoojun’s voice grows small and he feels wonwoo’s fingers in his hair instantly, calming, scraping against the surface to try to tug at the mess the older knows he’s thinking through. soyeon’s hand squeezes his own, she settles down the empty glass to once again lean against her palm.

‘just, be you. be here. safe.’  “i can do that.” he knows he can. ‘that’s enough then.’ it’s a lie. if it were enough, she wouldn’t be having these nightmares, she wouldn’t smile so sadly so often. but he nods, his head falling into wonwoo’s scratches os much that he’s leaning into the older’s leg and nearly falling when wonwoo moves to grab the food. there’s a chuckle and laughter as soyeon leans over to make sure he’s okay and wonwoo only gives him attention when he’s leaning down, chopsticks full of pancake placed in front of yoojun’s mouth.

‘eat, and look up the word tact later.’ yoojun pouts but eats and it disappears immediately.  “sorry hyung.” but wonwoo’s stuffing his mouth full again and only rising with the question of whether soyeon wants another glass with her food. yoojun crosses his legs, soyeon climbs atop the counter and does the same. wonwoo fusses with them both but they end up continuing the witcher in the kitchen instead of the living room. they fall asleep in a heap in the corner and for tonight at least, soyeon’s nightmare subsides.

[willardswritindump]

Untiled Halo Fic

Chapter 1

The year is 2525. Humanity has just discovered that we are not alone in this universe. An alien alliance known simply as "The Covenant" has begun to seek out human worlds and outer colonies, kickstarting what would be the darkest, bloodiest conflict in human history. Luckily, the UNSC, or United Nations Space Command, have been preparing humanities galactic military strength due to the rise or the Insurrectionists, or Rebels, in the outer colonies who disagree with the treatment the colonies receive, and political and financial influences.

 The UNSC, now needing bodies to man the massive space railguns they call ships, have constructed several dozen training academies and military schools for humanities brightest and bravest souls. One such facility would be the Corbulo Academy of Military Science, or CAMS. Corbulo is specifically an officer training Academy, housing only the most promising and talented future Officers of the UNSC

The shuttles' thrusters burn as it enters orbit, Lowering itself from the sky to the clouds. Heavy rain bashes against the reinforced hull of the Heron, as new recruits are mentally preparing to be rushed out of the bay upon landing. Some of the finest are among these rookies, such as Viper Mcfairle, the son of a high-ranking Navy Admiral and Julia Lebrette, a somewhat distant relative of a Catherine Halsey, (with a skill in advanced technologies to show-).  The only noise being drawn from the turbulence of the D20 lowering altitude. There's a sense of nervous anticipation that all of the rookies feel, but don't mention. It's crowded and underlit, save for a small piece of space in the back-left corner of the Heron, who's only resident was a seemingly unimpressive, slightly short girl with brunette lengthy hair, and piercing brown eyes. She seemed to emit a sense of hatred for everything around her, which was probably why she was alone, scribbling in a paper journal. Which, to more preppy individuals, is seen as a poor, dirty thing. Dressed unlike the rest, in grey and crimson maroon, with a light brown bandoleer crossing her torso.

 "February 23, 2525. The recent attack on Harvest is still shocking everyone across the galaxy. Not like I've been saying aliens are fucking real all my life. Still, it's scary. News feed of Civilian Evacuation and Military engagements on Harvest are on every media platform. It's all most can talk about, and all anyone thinks about. I still can't stand how the UNS--"

A sudden bang of turbulence disrupts her thought and sends the lead-tipped writing utensil leaping across the floor, gathering the attention of few.

"Fucking hell."

She thought to herself in pissed, but she eventually stops giving a shit, puts the tatty stained notebook away, and continues to project an aura of misery.

As the shuttle lands, someone who looks something like a sergeant stands up in the center or the rows of seats, and begins speaking aloud

"Alright, all of you, listen up! I want all of your electronics and biotics off and away, if I see it at all, that's it, you're done..."

He went on for about a minute on basic instructions, what to do, all that yadda yadda. Everyone did what they were supposed to, anyways.

Everyone knew what to do, though. It wasn't any of their first rodeos, (as most had either transferred from other academies, or were from well-known military families. Something odd happens about this time, though. The entire power grid goes dark, now the only lights being the dark red overheads from the shuttle. The Sergeant stops, orders everyone to siddown and shut up, and goes to have a chat with the pilot, probably for the radio communicator in the cockpit. The recruits, if you can call them that, do well on their end to shut the hell up, save for maybe one nosy individual...

The blonde cadet that sat across from the girl and who had been asleep for the vast majority of the transport ride was suddenly jolted awake as the turbulence rattled the shuttle, his pale blue eyes alert as he waited for the inevitable.                                                    

“Son of a bitch.”

He quietly muttered to himself as they descended onto the planet. As soon as the Sergeant began his speech, he could help but zone out, he was already far used to the icy military treatment from his family, at least this sergeant didn’t give birth to him.

He couldn’t help but wonder how much of the tirade was practiced beforehand by the sergeant. As he stared dead ahead of him the cadet couldn’t help but take survey of the girl in front of him. Not that he found her particularly interesting, although the found her a little cute it wasn’t enough to truly distract him, just enough to occupy his mind for the few minutes they would be stuck staring through each other. He knew something was off by the strange uniform she wore; it wasn’t the same white and grey dress uniform the rest wore but he couldn’t put a finger on why it was notable. Still it was enough to occupy his “recon mind” as his brothers put it and he made a mental note to keep an eye on her. Something about the air of rage that she gave off made him think that was probably a good idea. It made her seem dangerous, something that both fascinated and somewhat, well scared was probably to strong a word, he knew to approach with caution.

The brunette girl takes notice of the other cadet, who to her, almost can't take his eyes off her. She gives a quick half-assed glance and continues to stare out of the shuttle’s porthole-shaped window. A few brief moments pass, and the girl gives off a slight sigh of remorse, and with something of an agitated, intimidating, slightly monotone voice, basically demands the question,

"The hell do you want, pretty boy."

Her deep brown eyes now focus directly on the blonde, unflinching, unnerving. Whoever she was, whatever planet she called home, it was clear now that the most she had in common with any of the other cadets is height. She didn't give off any sort of formal military sense, but something about her told the boy that she had experience, and she knew what she was doing.

“Shut the fuck up back there!” The Sergeant yelled, how he even managed to hear the girl was beyond the boy. Soon enough the entire group was being rushed through a haze of noise and chaos. The only relief being the mean that they had 30 minutes to eat. Through coincidence the boy wound up at the same table as the strange girl.

The mess hall was brightly lit, thanks to the overhead fluorescent lights illuminating the tables and benches. The giant room seemed to particularly favor the color white, as everything from the counters, to the ceiling and shiny marble-like floor, was coated in whites and light grays. Cadets grabbed their grub, sat down wherever, and tried to keep the volume to a minimum as to not piss off the already annoying Sergeants and Officers around.

 In the third isle, on the end next to a window overlooking the courtyard, sat the very same girl from earlier on the shuttle. Now in her titanium white cadet fatigues, "Oliver" sat only a few seats away from anybody else, as if she'd rather observe them than interact. She notices pretty boy approach with who appears to be a friend of his. From the sound of it, they were in a conversation about Harvest

"... And contact was lost right before it got hit! See the resemblance, man? The Aliens are helping the god damned Innies!... Uh, who's this?"

Hoffman, the slightly taller cadet with short, frizzy black hair, gestured to Oliver. Her full attention was now on them whether she liked it or not

The “pretty boy” took a seat across from Oliver, the neutral look on his face from the transport in hadn’t faltered despite Hoffman’s topic of conversation not exactly being one that he was fond of. “I don’t know, try reading. Not like our names are on the uniform.” The “pretty boy” said as before taking a bite of his food. “Also, I’m thinking our problems just got a little bit bigger than the insurrectionists, and that’s all I’m saying on the subject.” Pretty Boy said, a slight sense of sadness in his voice as he talked about Harvest, like something about it affected him more than just the loss of a colony. His eyes were distant as he continued to eat across from Oliver. Upon closer inspection the “pretty boys” name was Daniels.

"I dunno, man. All I know is when we get out of here, I'm getting payback on those gas-sucking freaks, right after those dirty fuckin' Rebels."

Hoffman sat next to Daniels, diagonally across from Oliver. She gave him something of a suspicious look, and turned back to the other cadet

"So what's your deal."

She directs towards Daniels, curious as to why he chose to sit there out of anywhere else in the Hall with much more bright, optimistic rookies. Well, in comparison to her, anyways.

The seat was open.” Daniel said calmly as he continued to eat his food. Truth be told he chose in an attempt to shut Hoffman up and to gather more information on Oliver. He couldn’t explain it but something about her interested him. “What’s your deal?” He asked her before going back to the synthetic vegetables on one side of his plate

"I'm not a fan of company, and three's a crowd."

Although she was being more honest and less rude, there was still some harshness in her words.  Her accent seemed to differ from most of the other cadets as well, who talked either as if they were from fast, bustling cities, or rather slow, more laid back colonies. Oliver, however, had a much more foreign drawl. Daniels had a hard time putting his hand on it, it was almost a cross between Ancient Russian and some European country. Maybe she's from Eposz? She took a swig of bottled water, and then continued what one would guess to be meatloaf. It didn't kill her, so she didn't care.

"Oh, great, another extremely extroverted ray of sunshine! Don't worry, Oliver, we don't bite. Unless you get on Daniels fun side here... rrwwwrrrr~"

Hoffman tiger purred at his fellow cadet, messing with him and trying to lighten the somewhat dim mood

A moment quickly passed before Daniels turned to Hoffman and raised an eyebrow in a “what the fuck” look. “Okay first, don’t you ever that again, and second, don’t you ever do that again.” He said in a calm monotone, raising one finger on first and a second on “second”, pointing both at Hoffman. Truth be told as much as he liked the guy he kind of hoped the icy girl would scare him off, that clearly wasn’t the case. “As much as I appreciate your suave attempt at being a wingman I don’t think you’re helping..... that means fuck off Dustin.” Daniels said before going back to his so-called meatloaf.

"Alright, alright Odie, you win. Besides, you know I'm just fucking with you. Not so sure about that one from Eridnus II, though-"

Oliver almost smirked. She didn't really give a damn for what either of them had to say, but Daniels' response was somewhat humorous to her.

"You two are idiots."

She went back to her almost real meatloaf, acting uninterested and observing the outside courtyard below.

“What part of fuck off didn’t you understand.” Daniels said before taking another bite of the meatloaf and a swig of water. “Honestly, that’s a fair point.” He said in response to Oliver’s verbal jab at both him and Hoffman, truth be told he knew Hoffman wasn’t exactly the brightest and didn’t exactly know how to shut up but Daniels knew that without a doubt Hoffman would have his back in a fight. He couldn’t count the amount of they’d bailed each other out back on Reach.

"Ah, don't worry about him. He's just been grumpy lately. Guess we all have since... Uh, yeah.."

A moment or two flies by, before Oliver piped up and asked

"... So where are you two from."

If you could call it asking. She had something of a demanding tone, as if she didn't show empathy towards being courteous. Still, her, asking this, is friendly, for Oliver.

“Reach.” Daniels calmly replied, interested at getting anything more than an insult out of the curious fellow cadet. “And I thought we both agreed NOT, to bring that up.” He said to Hoffman, an agitated tone in his voice. The topic of harvest still seeming to be a bad one with him.

Hey, I didn't say anything, just throwing vauge...ness out there."

 "Oh. I see."

Not much had been said, but things never had to be too obvious for her to pick up the pieces. From her guess, at least one of them lost something important on Harvest.

"Tough shit."

Oliver mumbled to herself.

"So what the hell are you doing here? In this gunkhole?"

“What does it matter?”

Daniels still seemed sore from all the talk of harvest. He soon swallowed down the last of his water and poked at what was left of the synthetic meatloaf and between pushing his few so called vegetables around his plate, his appetite clearly squashed.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

"I came here because I want to learn and get experience. I was tired of sitting around and listening to all the assholes back home, so I came here for a change."

"I came here to fight."

She had finished most of her meal by now, and pushed her tray and water aside.

"So, why are you here."

“I’m here to kill.”

Was all Daniels responded with, a dark look spreading across his face.

“I wanna see the pink or whatever the fuck color mist that those hinge heads make.”

He went on before taking an aggressive bite of the rest of his meatloaf and quickly swallowing.

"Hm."

Oliver didn't say too much after that. She didn't need to. Hatred like that resonated with her, in a way. It was probably the only emotion she would outright show empathy to. That is, if silence is empathetic.

 "Sarah."

 It had looked like Odie was going to open his mouth as if to say something (presumably an introduction), but she cut him off.

 "You're Odie, and this is Dustin."

"Tolerable to make your acquaintance.

“Oliver, my name is Oliver.”

Daniels said before gulping down the rest of his water and getting up. With that he vanished into the sea of white and grey.

 Some hours later after a long night of being yelled at, group punishments and being pushed through more supply lines than anyone thought possible the cadets were finally placed in their rooms. And who did Daniels wind up with for a roommate but the Ice Queen herself, the name Oliver, Sarah was placed right above the bed across from him. He sighed as he began to unpack his newly issued gear and few personal items.

Sarah had almost finished unpacking and organizing her gear, save for an ivory colored trinket with string wrapped around it. She unfolded what appeared to be an amulet, put it on, and stuffed it under her collar before Odie could make out the object, if he was even paying attention.

 "Guess we're stuck together, pretty boy."

Sarah fell back onto the bunk and crossed her arms behind her head, in a somewhat relaxed, "Zero fucks given" pose.

"That's alright. Maybe you'll take a stray round for me at the firing range."

Luckily, there was a slight hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Oliver went about arranging what little he had from home. A chess board with pieces composed of standard UNSC shell casings, a few books, and a framed picture of a group of about 11 boys all varying ages and shades of blond hair, and their eyes all the same piercing shade of blue. After staring at the picture for a few moments Oliver grabbed one of the books and took a seat on his bed.

 “If only it were that easy.”

Oliver said as he flipped through the pages of his book.

“Alright, cut the bullshit. Why are you really here?”

He paused for a moment as he turned the page.

“All the others are obvious. Either their mommies and daddies are military and they have no choice in the matter or they actually want to serve but mommy and daddy don’t want to loose their precious little darling to the insurrectionist, or.... whatever the fuck those things are.” An ever so tiny sliver of pain came through Oliver’s voice as the subject of the covenant cane up but he quickly composed himself.

“So they sent them here hoping they wind up some high ranking POG just like the ones who’s asses they kissed to get them here.”

 Odie paused again.

“You’re neither.”

The girl sat up straight, and went silent for a moment. Sarah had a serious yet vacant expression on her face, as if she had been lost in a sad, dark memory.

 "Mommy and daddy are the reason I'm here."

 "And that's all I'm saying about that."

 There was impatience in her tone, for sure, but something about the way she said it made it seem... Regretful.

Without even looking up Oliver could sense that he had struck a nerve even deeper than when Harvest was mentioned around him. He slowly closed the book before just staring at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry.”

"It's fine, shit happens. Lotta people don't make it through this fucking war. After a while you get used to it."

 Sarah spoke with more agitation in her voice than sadness, and was trying to give off her usual "I don't give a damn" tone. She almost got away with it.

 She cracked her neck left then right, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She paused for a moment, then looked over to Odie.

 "What do you know about the Innies."

Oliver paused for a moment before turning to face Sarah.

 “Do you want to know what I know or what I think, because that’s an important distinction to make.”

 Oliver sat in silence as he surveyed Sarah and her reactions.

"And what might that be?"

Sarah leaned to her left, using her elbow as a stand and resting her cheek on her knuckles. She was expecting something along the lines of "Well sometimes they have good intention but sometimes they're too extreme". It was the most common thing she'd heard, but in her mind, drastic times sometimes call for drastic measures.

“Well, if I’m to tell the truth...”

Oliver paused to try and find the best way to phrase what he was going to say.

 “I find the insurrectionists tactics to be somewhat sloppy, and that’s part of what makes them dangerous. Overall however I think the universe just got a little bigger than petty human squabbles over territories and politics.”

Oliver’s deadpan making it sound less like a personal opinion and more like he was reading from a briefing.

"Yeah, galactic civil war, aliens, what next? A big fucking gun that kills everything in the universe?"

Putting the "lighthearted" humor aside, she had a point.

 "You think we should join up with the Rebels against them? If only temporarily."

“I think we’re going to need everyone we can get if we want to keep....”

Oliver paused, a little pain in his voice.

“If we want to keep the rest of us from ending up like Harvest.”

Her tone dropped serious and she looked Odie dead in the eye

"Things just go south from here on out. Harvest won't be the last. You know that."

“Yeah, but we have to do fucking something. Besides, if those things really do wanna kill us all then I’d rather die fighting than on my knees.”

Odie returned the look with one of his own, one that said he was going follow through with those words.

It may just come to that, if you let that gung-ho attitude of yours get to your head."

She flipped her bangs to the left and out of her face

"We'll get 'em back. They have to have a home world or base of operations somewhere."

"We'll blow it the fuck up."

“I’m not saying I’d complain about that. Not like dying in the line of duty isn’t part of my family history.”

Upon hearing that something clicked, Oliver was one of those Daniels.

Sarah felt an immediate jolt of emotions even she found hard to describe run down her spine. Her fists clenched up, and she had to act like she didn't just hear the fifth shittiest news of her life.

 "Daniels. Son of Sergeant Major Henry Daniels, Company Commander of 106th ODST Special Forces."

 "You're his son

“Technically, yes.”

Oliver paused as he tried his best to phrase what he was going to say next.

“Bastard never did anything to exactly qualify him as a father except sticking his dick my mom.”

He paused once more.

“I didn’t know him, he ain’t got shit to do with me.”

Sarah went silent. She didn't know how to react. How the fuck does somebody react to that kind of news? She tried to hide the anger and hatred she had for one of the most prominent military families this side of Eridanus. It almost worked.

 "What. The Fuck-"

She felt her heartrate skyrocket, pounding in her chest. Almost every bone in her Venezian body wanted to break her fists on his face and vice versa. She couldn't, though. Not yet. It wasn't the time.

"Don't fucking talk to me."

Sarah moved away from the edge, and began making her bed, ignoring Odie entirely.

“Shut the fuck up in there you two or I swear you two will be running to Reach and back! Lights fucking out!” Their platoon sergeant yelled out before the main lights of the room sharply shut off and the only dim lights above the bed were able to barely illuminate Sarah’s work and gave Odie enough to read. He figured going back to his book was probably the best course of action after Sarah’s less than favorable reaction to his family heritage. Although he couldn’t completely understand, all that bastard of a man had done was beat him for being in his words a “useless runt” and make the homestead reek of alcohol until he got pulled back into some mission. “Yeah, real dad of the year material”, Oliver thought before marking his place and slipping the book under his pillow.

Sarah couldn't sleep that night. Not anything unusual for her, but this time was different. That assholes dad was responsible for her mothers death, one way or another. She'd get her revenge. In time.

 Days turned to weeks, and most of the time all Odie would get from his battle buddy was quick, harsh glances and puffs of aggravation. The only time they shared conversation was in situations when they were required to. She was intent on following through with her words.

Chapter 2

[dags-daughter-writes]

Wild and Fey - An Obeyme! OC fic

My last day in the human realm started off as any other. Fenris woke me up by unceremoniously depositing me on the floor from my comfy spot curled up with him. I groaned at the sudden cold impact of the floor and glared up at him, his golden eyes meeting mine. My beautiful cocoa colored Fey-wolf regarded me with his usual no BS look and I reluctantly rose from the floor to start our normal routine.  

I changed out of my sleep shorts and oversized tee into my normal attire; a black tank top with a royal purple corset with black ribbons, my reliably comfy skinny jeans, black combat boots and my matching mid-length purple cloak. Doing my mid back length peach colored hair up into a loose French braid I donned my trusty over the shoulder bag and ruffled the fur between Fenris's ears before swinging my door open into the chaos of the morning.  

Sparrow had been up an hour earlier and had a small feast cooked for breakfast, colorful omelets and stacks of pancakes adorned the 10 seated dining room table along with the usual pitchers of coffee, creamer and fresh orange juice form the garden. Magpie of course was already sitting at the head of the table talking over the new ingredients list with Hawke, Sprig and Chickadee. Taking my usual spot opposite Chickadee I start to pile food onto my plate before it disappears. After Fen and I finish our first omelet Viv and Sparrow join us at the table. Trying to keep myself occupied and Fen out of trouble I keep my attention focused on feeding the large wolf.  My concentration is broken when Sparrow chastises Viv for trying to add more makeup products to the shopping list. Magpie silences the two with a quick look and changes the subject to everyone's assignments for the day. "Sparrow, Hawke and Chickadee you three will be going into town to get all of the shopping done, Viv didn't you mention that you had a few appointments booked with new clients today?" Magpie voice. " yes I do thank you for reminding me, I'll have to make sure the room is set up" Viv chided while rolling her eyes. Magpie continued, "Sprig you'll be tending to the garden as normal, Nightingale are you going to be studding with me again today or off working in the forest?"  "Actually, I've been invited to join RAD for the next school term and already accepted so I'm going to patrol the forest then pack, in theory they're having me join them this afternoon" I answered. The table fell completely silent. "Wait RAD as in the academy in the Devildom?" Chickadee questioned. "As far as I was aware it was the same one, Diavolo signed the invitation" I replied. "Do you know how terrible of an idea that is Nightingale?" Magpie reasoned. "Well considering we're a fairly well known coven of witches, they'd have to be incredibly oblivious to not know who we are and I know some of you already have packs with the 7 rulers and other demons, why is me going any different?" I responded. "Well  if you're leaving to day then the shopping can wait for a few hours, I'll need to transcribe some new spells for you and I know that Magpie will be drafting up some new potions for you" interjected Hawke. Viv as annoyed as ever, "just make sure to tell Asmo hello for me and you'd better send me some of the devildom skincare products". Sprig stayed silent through the whole exchange before silently leaving the table and exiting the room. "Well it seems you have your mind made up, and there's no changing that. You need to be extremely careful down there sis. After all you are the youngest and dearest of us." Magpie ended with, "Okay! Everyone off to their tasks and please make sure you're packed and ready to go Nightingale you never know when they may just port you there" I sighed as the rest got up from the now messy table and left the room. "  Well Fen I guess we're on clean up duty again"  The  large wolf perked up from his spot on the floor and padded over to my chair and waited expectedly for any remaining scraps to be his. I chuckled as we continues our normal clean up ritual before loading up all of the newly licked clean plates to the kitchen for a proper wash. Once the dishes were cleaned and put away Fen followed me outside to the edge of the tree line that surrounded our house. Taking a long look around the small acreage we call home. There was the quaint 2 story cottage, the large garden full of exotic plants, the well-worn gravel path up to the cottage and the dense forest of trees that surrounded the house. The Evers Orphanage for magically talented girls. The original owners Zinnia and Eliza had been our foster mothers, until a traumatic accident occurred when I was 7. All Magpie would tell us is that a ritual they were casting had gone very wrong and they were killed because of it  along with the chaos that had been unleashed upon the property for the next week after. None of my sisters would discuss it with me and they only memories I had of the incident were cloudy and run together. I recall screaming as a boy with blonde and blue hair was dragged away from me by lots of grabbing hands and wings as a white wolf chased after them. They disappeared into a white haze before a large blonde haired man? With 6 pure white wings hovered over me with the most terrifying look on his face. I woke up hours later naked and clutching an injured Fen in a clearing in the woods. From that day on Magpie and Hawke had taken over running the orphanage. Shaking away the bad memories I gathered myself before walking back to the cottage to start packing. ~2 hours later~ Standing in the foyer of our meager home, I took a deep breath and prepared to say my goodbyes. All of my older sisters had gathered to see me and Fen off. I took the next few minutes to give hugs and accept their parting gifts and advice. Magpie gave me a small leather pouch I recognized as one of the ones she had Hawke enchanted as expandable, "it's full of meds and some potentially useful potions" she whispered as she tucked it into my bag during our embrace. Hawke presented me with my own dagger a proud smirk lit across her face, " just in case you need it. I named it Ember, just call its name and it'll always appear in your right hand" she tucked the leather sheathed weapon into my bag as well.  Viv dramatically sighed and ran her hands over my cloak whispering a Glamour spell, " keep this on if you can it'll help you blend in better, don't need you getting eaten, now do we?" I chuckled and gave her a quick hug when she was done. As soon as I finished Viv's hug Sprig, Sparrow and Chickadee hugged me tightly each slipping something into my bag. As they were whisper crying their goodbyes in my shoulders a bright white light appeared behind me and a deep voice called "Briar-Rose it's time" I slipped out of my sister's embrace and placed a hand on Fenris's shoulder as we diapered into the light…

[vieuxnoyesrp]

                  Rain St. Agnes  ⚜  Witch  ⚜  33  ⚜  O Fortuna  ⚜  INFJ

Your past does not define you…

If Rain was prone to maudlin behavior, she might have spent more time mourning her childhood, the life she had never had a chance to lead. She might have mourned for the mother she didn’t get a chance to meet, until fate would have it, her dying day. She might have looked in horror at the blood which soaked her hands, the cold cruelty which wasn’t inherited so much as learned by example. For the women who raised her shared no blood with her but the blood they jointly spilled. The woman Rain grew up calling mother was no such thing; in fact, Rain wondered idly if Mother hadn’t been the model for the mythic creature of Satan herself. 

You see, Rain was taken from her birth mother at the tender, impressionable age of two years old. She was taken as payment of a life debt, something which had never been a secret to Rain. She was raised in sacrifices and black magic, the art of a clean slice to the jugular and a poker face that killed. She learned how to whisper a thought into someone’s ear and watch it take root and fester in their mind, until they couldn’t tell her whispered words from reality. The best thing Mother ever taught Rain wasn’t about hearts on sleeves, it was don’t bother having a heart to begin with. 

  {We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.}

But Mother wasn’t around very often, and instead, Rain was left in the careful (and caring) hands of her older sister, Mary. Mary paid no attention to their Mother’s rules about feelings and sentiment. Mary hardly paid attention to any mortals to begin with, so she didn’t have that problem– except with Rain. With Rain, she was affectionate and loving, singing her lullabies when she couldn’t sleep, teaching her which herbs would soothe and which would would swell the esophagus until the subjected party choked on their own windpipe. Mary was Rain’s only friend growing up, the only person to love her, to rely on her. It wasn’t surprising that she was the only person Rain loved in every conceivable way.

But Rain was nothing if not a brilliant student, and she had taken her lessons to heart: let nothing show. Her connection to Mother never came without a double-dose of both the bitter and the sweet - as it did for them all. But the bitter overflowed into outright fury when she sought out the truth about her birth mother, Lavinia St. Agnes, who had spent the last thirty years of her life mourning the daughter she thought had been sacrificed to the Devil. The rage that she felt, at Mother, at Mary, at the magic which held them all in the palm of its bloody hand, was all-consuming, and Rain knew that no child of hers would ever fall prey to such a avaricious mistress. But such things are costly. 

Time did what it always did; tempering her rage and rebuilding her connection to the Coven, to her sisters, and to the only Mother she’d really known. And Mother welcomed her back with arms that spanned as wide as the world. Still, if there’s anything in her life that Rain regrets, it’s that she never got the chance to talk with her human mother, to meet her, learn from her. She’d seemed like a good woman. But all Rain had ever known was sacrifice, it was the only weapon she had at her disposal. And so Lavinia St. Agnes gave her life to the cause, in a manner of speaking. 

                                                                                    … It prepares you.

Her death, though regrettable, didn’t stop Rain from basking in the power of the sacrifice. With the final rite of passage completed, Mary and she raised the fallen Cult of Bracken from the  gallows and ashes of Salem. The world was a different place now than it had been during the height of Bracken’s power. The twentieth century brought with it many dangers to witches, but also so many gifts that would aid in the craft. She spent decades hunting down rumors and sifting through legends to find the final piece, that last touch that would restore the Cult of Bracken to its rightful place as leading body of the magical world: The Bracken Dagger. Despite the years of searching, when she had finally located the elusive relic, the Arcane Society managed to snatch it out from under her nose. Almost half a century later, and its gone missing once more. Her sources say it’s located in none other than the cradle of magic in the New World: New Orleans. The Bracken dagger was her birthright; a peace-offering and an inheritance from Mother and she intended to get her hands on it before someone else, someone unworthy did. Blood was precious and she knew that. But power couldn’t be usurped without sacrifice. And she’s willing to go to spare no expense at finding what rightfully belonged to her coven – and her. 

Web of Connections

Rogan Jones and Zave Jones Alaric Saltzman: Rain has the illustrious honor of being related to the Jones family, albeit it a very distant relationship, many times removed. She only knows this because of another item she seeks, an item previously locked the Arcane Society vaults the ring of Lucinda Jones. It just so happens, although a Jones in name, Lucinda is also Rain's direct ancestor, and she wants the ring which symbolizes the legacy of this great woman. 

Allison Argent and Cora Hale: New as the Cult of Bracken is to New Orleans and the map of power in the French Quarter, Rain decided to endeavor on a little thought experiment with her talent for potent whispers. Enter Allison and Cora, both unimportant in terms of power, both quite low on their respective totem poles, but both descendants of long lines of enemies to witches everywhere. Her little practical joke didn’t necessarily mean any harm, but she was quite curious to see how the various powers that be in the Quarter would react to such a blatant attack. She has to say, the lack of response has her thinking all sorts of things. 

Amélie-Marin Morrell: Rain had never been overly fond of their once emissary. At first Rain had hoped she would help to curb Jennifer’s more... impulsive side. But rather than aiding with that particular situation, she only served to make it worse. In a petty fit of jealous rage, Amélie-Marin used her position as emissary to thwart a ritual, which had required no small number of sacrifices, all of which had been for naught. Without the power from that ritual, the Cult of Bracken has suffered an almost critical blow, though Rain would admit such a thing to no one. 

Jeremy Gilbert: Her tiny talent for suggestion is a curious one, but one she often relies upon to ascertain a more comprehensive first impression. So imagine her surprise when her silver tongue fell on flat ears, ears belonging to a drug-addled, alcohol-hazed mind no less. Such a mind should have been wide open to external influence, addicted as it was to being under it, and yet she found her words couldn’t penetrate the stubborn, willful mind of Jeremy Gilbert. Unfortunately for him, that only makes him more intriguing. 

Also mentioned in the following bios: Mary Sibley, Jennifer Blake, 

Plot Teasers:

Despite the rocky road of familial relationships, Rain has buried her feelings of betrayal, or so she thinks. New information about the family of sorceresses she holds so dear will bring old wounds to the surface and have Rain reconsidering 

With very few exceptions, Rain has always considered herself an apex predator, and has rarely encountered a mind she couldn’t outwit, a plan she wasn’t three steps ahead of. She’ll soon learn, however, that pride is indeed, a deadly sin. 

On the soundtrack of her life: Me and the Devil - Soap&Skin (x)

FC: Lara Pulver, negotiable.

Fortunately for you, Rain is  O P E N!!

[thatbloodycountess]

Home: Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Thunder and Lightning

 This is a longer chapter. Ideas have been pouring out of me, hence the constant posting of new chapters. I hope you enjoy it!

 2,101 words

 Vicious storm clouds shrouded the sky above Duscae, thunder rumbling so loud that it frightened human and beast alike. They managed to reach Wiz’s just before the storm hit and took the opportunity to have a meal. Noctis’ headaches still lingered and they didn’t know where the Imperials took the Regalia. All of them were still reeling from Ardyn’s revelation in the crater.

 Celes is his daughter.

 The Chancellor offered no further details, aside from referring to her as a “poor excuse”. While Gladio didn’t trust anything the man said or did, even he had to quell his suspicions about Celes after that. He couldn’t imagine being tormented by his father. Clarus Amicitia was a good man and loved his family deeply. He would’ve never intentionally harmed his children. He could handle a behemoth but would break if he saw Iris cry. Prompto had been unusually silent, even after they arrived at the chocobo post. The animals usually lifted his spirits but not this time. He perused the gift shop to keep himself busy but it was easy to see that it wasn’t working.

 Ignis sat at their table in the café reading the paper with a cup of Ebony. Nifelheim continued to be front page news, which made it a bit easier to find out where they were headed. It seemed they had quieted down after the Archean’s disappearance. The nearby radio pretty much confirmed the information. Gentiana paid them a visit urging them to seek out the Fulgarian, who was the source of the storm. Hopefully they wouldn’t run into the Chancellor this time.

  Prompto shook the chocobo snow globe and watched as the artificial snow fell around the scene inside before returning it to the shelf. Normally, being around the chocobos would lift his spirits but he couldn’t shake the sadness that seeped into his bones.

 “Even if she is a poor excuse for one…”

 He knew what it was like to not be wanted. He lived his entire life with it and he hated to hear that another person lived with it too. Now, she was probably locked up somewhere being subjected to horrible treatment and there wasn’t anything any of them could do about it. Well…not yet anyway. His phone buzzed from his pocket. Prompto found a text from Noctis.

 “We’re heading out.”

 Prompto headed for the exit of the gift shop but a display at the register caught his eye. The round wooden display was covered with keychains. There were chocobos, cactuar, carbuncle, and moogles in neat rows. Prompto quickly purchased one of the moogle keychains and left the shop to rejoin the others.

  Gentiana’s words reverberated in Noctis’ head as they entered the wilderness to complete Ramuh’s trial. Rain pounded the area, soaking all of them through and through. The muddy terrain made traversing the area difficult and slowed them down but they persisted. Thunder rumbled overhead, threatening to send the Fulgarian’s fury down upon them. With each stone pillar found, Gentiana words guided them to another. Aside from the beasts indigenous to the area, they ran into little opposition.

 Gladio stopped them before they turned the corner around one of the large cliffs surrounding them. He peered around the rock wall and gave the signal that all was well. Noctis led the way into the narrow pass, spotting what he hoped was the final stone pillar amongst thick vines and brush. He approached the pillar and pressed his palm to it. Purple lightning emitted from the pillar and filled the prince’s body. Noctis’ eyes glowed red as he withstood the impact. He felt the Fulgarian’s power pour into every part of him before the lightning dissipating. The red glow faded shortly after, returning his eyes to their usual blue. The covenant complete, he turned to his friends as the storm clouds receded revealing the light of day once more.

 With that task complete, they could now focus on getting the Regalia back. They took the most direct route to the road to get their bearings. Ignis suspected that the vehicle was likely at one of the newly established Imperial bases in the region. It was easily reachable on foot and not too far from their current location. They began their trek across Duscae towards the base, eliminating any beasts they came across. Noctis’ headaches had subsided much to his relief, allowing him to focus on the task at hand.

 They reached the base as dusk approached. A watchtower stood a few hundred feet away from the base. It was made of wood, not meal, leading them to believe that either hunters or ENERGIS staff built the tower and that the Imperials hadn’t gotten around to destroying it just yet. The tower was tall enough to allow them to see over the walls of the base to get an idea of what they were in for. Naturally, the place was swarming with MTs and other Magitek machinery. Sitting in a more secluded part of the base under heavy guard was the Regalia.

 Ignis suggested they utilize the nearby haven to rest and formulate their plan. They would sneak into the base under the cover of darkness. That would be the easy part. Ignis would have to craft their strategy once inside. There was immense risk to start but they didn’t have any choice if they wanted to recover the Regalia. One false move and they would be overrun as they would be outnumbered. But Ignis Scientia didn’t earn his moniker as The Strategist for nothing. With a partial plan established, they waited patiently for nightfall.

  Ignis led the way towards the base, finding a hole in a chain link fence. They crept through the hole and hurried as quickly and quietly as they could, taking refuge behind a group of wooden crates. Noctis moved to strike but Ignis silently raised his hand to stop him. The prince complied as his advisor quickly surveyed the area. There were a few large tanker trucks in the area that would provide decent cover.

 He crouched down. “We need to clear these soldiers before we can proceed.”

 “Leave it to me.”

 Noctis disappeared in a haze of blue light, reappearing just before he plunged the blade of his sword into the back of an unsuspecting MTs neck. The solider collapsed in a heap as he took cover behind the closest truck. He looked to Ignis, who signaled the location of another in a nearby guard post. Noctis nodded and eliminated the MT near him as soon as its back was turned, catching a glimpse of the tower. He warped to the tower and took the sentry out before he could be spotted and immediately crouched down. There were four more soldiers patrolling that area alone. He signaled to Ignis that he would take care of it. He monitored their movements for a few moments. The attack had to be flawless in its execution. All four needed to be destroyed before they could sound the alarms.

 He warped off the tower and decapitated the first and went after the second before the body could hit the ground. His blade sliced through the torso of the second and he immediately took out the third. The fourth had its back turned, making it easy to kill with a simple blade through the skull. He quickly rejoined the others and proceeded further into the base. Ignis spotted another guard post with a sentry on duty. Noctis warped to it and quickly took out the MT. He waited until the others moved further in, concealing themselves behind another tanker truck. Ignis moved to the rear and peered around the large fuel tank to stay in eyeshot of Noctis.

 He surveyed the area, spotting the Regalia surrounded by just four MTs and immediately suspected a trap. They couldn’t just leave it. He quietly told Gladio and Prompto to be ready before signaling Noctis to go ahead and strike. Noctis warped from the guard post and destroyed the first MT. The alarms immediately went off as more MTs stormed the area. To make matters worse, a Magitek armored unit appeared and quickly opened fire.

 “Noct!” Ignis shouted, pointing at a Gatling gun posted on a tower high off the ground.

 The strategist fired off a round of Sagefire to cover Noctis as he warped to the tower. Prompto whipped out his autocrossbow and fired a spray of bolts at the enemy with Gladio focusing on the armored unit. Noctis turned the heavy artillery on the armored unit first, the bullets quickly piercing its defenses. Gladio swung at one of its legs doing significant damage but the blow didn’t bring it down. The armor fired a barrage of missiles at Ignis and Prompto but they managed to dodge at the last minute. Noctis didn’t relent in his attack, turning the bullets into the leg that Gladio swung at just moments before. It erupted into flames, bringing the marauder down to one knee.

 Ignis used Sagefire once more to eliminate another cluster of MTs but cursed when more swooped in to take their place. They were being overrun and it was only a matter of time before they exhausted themselves. Noctis could see the writing on the wall from his vantage point and made a split decision. His eyes glowed red as he felt his power well up in his chest. Storm clouds moved in overhead with lightning that lit up the night sky. A towering figure, that of an old man, appeared before them and scooped up the prince in his grasp. With one wave of his staff, he brought the lightning down upon the MTs and the armored unit destroying them in a single blow. Ramuh set Noctis down onto the ground before vanishing as quickly as he appeared. Noctis fell to one knee to collect himself as the dust settled. Prompto’s eyes widened as a tall and imposing man heading their way. Dressed mostly in white, aside from a mechanical left arm, with platinum blonde hair his gaze was locked on the Prince of Lucis.

 And he didn’t look pleased to see him.

 “Noctis…it’s been far too long.”

 The prince whirled around to find Ravus Nox Fleuret approaching them. The metal fingers of his left arm flexed as he withdrew his sword.  

 “I see you’ve achieved the Fulgarian’s blessing…with ignorance as to the consequences.”

 He raised his blade to attack Noctis but Gladio intervened with his great sword but Ravus was at least a head taller and physically stronger than the shield. He knocked him back against the driver’s side of the Regalia as if he were nothing.

 “A shield that can protect nothing. Useless.” Ravus sneered.

 Gladio got to his feet and went to strike again, only to be met with the Ravus’ blade to his throat. Ignis took a step but then immediately thought better of it. Noctis tapped into his inherit power, his weapons materializing around him.

 “And what about you?” he retorted. “Pledging your loyalty to the very people hunting your sister down?!”

 “That’s enough!”

 Ardyn sauntered up to the group as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Despite the Chancellor’s presence, Ravus kept his blade at Gladio’s throat.

 “What do you want now?” Noctis demanded.

 “Absolutely nothing.” he answered. “I’ve sent the army away and have no intention of asking for anything in return. See what a nice guy I am?”

 “We don’t need anything from you.” Gladio glared at him.

 He ignored the shield’s comment. “It seems we both have business with the elemental mistress. I do wish you safe travels, Your Majesty.”

 Ravus withdrew his blade and left without another word.

 “Where is Celes?” Prompto demanded.

 Ardyn merely regarded the gunner with a chuckle before departing.

   Ignis paid close attention to how the Regalia ran as they headed back towards Lestallum. Everything sounded fine meaning that the vehicle wasn’t tampered with. Gladio was still very much enraged over the encounter with Ravus while Noctis simply stared out his side of the vehicle. Prompto tried to busy himself with going through the photos on his camera.

 Upon returning to the Leville, they found a hysterical Iris waiting for them. While they were away, Nifelheim soldiers appeared and detained them. Upon hearing that they were from Insomnia, due to an accidental slip of the tongue from Talcott, they interrogated them about Noctis. They tried to convince them they didn’t know where the prince was but things quickly turned violent. Jared stepped in to defend Iris and Talcott but ended up losing his life.

[archagentzep-archived-blog]

Mother’s Day.

Zep stood before the office of the Headmistress of the Covenant Military Academy with a sizable bouquet of flowers in his hand, ready to greet her in celebration of Mother’s Day. Unlike many of the other Archagents, Zep recognized that Hilde was perhaps the closest thing he could identify to as a mother figure.

In regards to this seemingly common celebration of the maternal, there were usually two reactions from those within the Third Generation Archagents: grief and resentment, or alienation and utter confusion about the concept.

For Zep, it was the latter, but it was not in the sense of his obliviousness of what the holiday was about nor of the concept of mothers; rather, his bonds and memories of that past life, the life he once lived before being an Archagent, seemed non-existent. He had not forgotten what his mother was like. He had such moments printed in his mind: A beautiful smile which the sun always seemed to compliment, a tender embrace which granted him sanctuary from the dark of night, and the numerous hand holdings in which roughness of her skin and knuckles gave testament to her patience and strength as a woman.

And yet, he could not connect with these memories. Even the trauma of having been taken away from her when he was young did not register as pain nor grief, only a misfortune that shouldn’t have happened. He did not know why such things were distant from him, as if they were no longer his own. He knew she was a good woman, but other than that, she was alien to him now. Why?

Why was he not yearning to know about how she was doing after all this time? Where she lived? Whether or not she missed him? The curiosity was there in Zep, but it was fleeting as there had been little drive to pursue answers. Why was he now at the door of one of his former caretakers, Hilde Von Voigt, instead of going out there to look for his actual mother? The more he thought about these questions, the more it troubled him beyond any justification.

He sighed before walking inside the office with a cheery disposition. 

“Headmistress, I got something for you,” chirped Zep as he entered the office with his flowers. 

Hilde Von Voigt stood at the window with hands folded behind her which accentuated her massive shoulder blades, outlined with muscular mass. She turned over to look at Zep, her cold expression suddenly broke into a wondrous smile as if she had been visited by one of her darling grandchildren. 

“Oh meine Güte! Little Nicholas, oh it has forever been,” she exclaimed with wide open arms, walking over and bear hugging the fragile Archagent. Upon hearing Zep choke a little, she looked to him and his flowers before lifting him up to face level. “Oh, these flowers are wonderful, but you have gotten so frail! You must take care of yourself dear!”

“A-Ah ha... I’m fine really! Anyways, I just wanted to stop by and greet you for Mother’s Day.”

Hilde’s expression dropped and she looked him in the eyes. The reminder of the holiday made her lips purse as bitter melancholy struggled to form itself on her countenance, almost to the point where she could not brave a smile. “Oh, Nicholas, thank you.” And braved a smile she did, for she knew his story as she knew the stories of many of the Third Generation, each a tragedy in their own right, but every year, she had always been baffled by Zep’s willingness to celebrate a holiday that practically shunned others like him. This year was no different.

After being put down by Hilde, Zep sat himself on the opposite side of her desk while Hilde went to prepare the tea.

The two sat down and positioned their eyes on their respective cups of tea, leaving only the ticking of a cuckoo clock resonate in the air between them. This happened every Mother’s Day for the past several years. Neither one of them knew how to take this conversation. Neither one of them was brave enough to speak on the subject of the holiday. It was almost torture to Hilde the way Zep just sat there. Mother’s Day was supposed to be full of warmth, mirth, and bonds between parent and child, yet Zep would only grace her with this air of discomfort and silence as if there was supposed to be an order given to him on this day. Was this supposed to be symbolic of something? Was Zep playing some sick joke or proving a cynical point? If there had been a clear reason for this, she could tolerate it, but she couldn’t stand this irrational moment where they both sat there for no reason. Every year, this insanity would last for an hour before Zep dismissed himself, hugged the other, and went about his way in an awkward fashion while Hilde held her breath the entire way. 

This year, the tradition of silence broke.

“Zep.”

Zep was the first between them to look up from their cups. “Yes, Headmistress?”

“Why do you come here?”

Zep worried about what she meant by that. “I mean. It’s Mother’s Day. You’ve taken care of me all my life as if I was one of your own and I wanted to show my appreciat-”

“But I am not your mother.” Her eyes closed and her fingers wrapped around the cup as if she were trying to remove a blade from her side.

“I.” Zep paused, looking down. His eyes darted around as if an answer could be found on the table.

“Nicholas. You are dear to me. And it was my honor and privilege to have taken you under my wing. You know you were like a son to me all these years and you will always be like a son to me even after.” She sighed before looking up at him. “But, even then, that does not mean that I am a mother in your heart. I cannot be a mother to you when your heart is not open to it.”

“Headmistress, what are you talking about?” Zep shook his head at her incredulously. “You’ve taken care of me almost as much as Sindro did. You’ve helped me grow up to be strong. How can you say that I don’t see you as my mother?”

She raised her hand, looking away from him. “Please, Zep.” The fingers around her cup threatened to crack as anxiety filled her heart. “At best I have been a mentor in your eyes, perhaps someone dear close to your heart I know. But the way you sit there silently, the way you still call me your Headmistress, the way you feel as if it is easy to call someone a motherly figure. You either have a shallow sense of what a mother is to you or something is terribly wrong with you!”

There was a terribly long silence between them now. Zep was mortified. His face froze, his expression was lost beyond any sense of direction. A familiar feeling began to arise from this revelation, which took form in his following response. 

“Maybe... that’s why mother let me go,” said Zep quietly. “Why she didn’t stop them from taking me. Maybe... she was ashamed?”

Her eyes widened upon hearing that. “Nicholas-”

“I must have been a terrible child then, or she must have been a terrible mother?” Zep’s eyes darted around the floor, his mind trying to make sense of all this. “I always wondered why I never bothered asking or obsessing over this. Over why I was taken into the Covenant all those years ago because you know, I couldn’t remember how I really felt when it happened. Everything was a confusing haze, but a lot of possible reasons are coming to me now. Maybe I felt betrayed by her and repressed it. Maybe I always hated her and wanted to leave the family on my own. Maybe I was repulsive or maybe I had a brother or sister that she loved more and they had to choose to give one up, thus picking me.”

“Nicholas, please!”

“It’s not normal!” Zep suddenly stood up from his seat, tears dripping from his eyes and running down his cheeks. “It’s just not normal for me to have let such questions go for all these years. Any other Archagent who went through the same thing as I did in the Third Generation would have yearned for their parents, would have felt pain or misery or guilt or resentment. They can at least feel a desire to be with their families again. So why can’t I?!” he screamed out. His hands fell over his eyes, sobbing in gasps. 

Hilde’s heart shattered upon seeing Zep in utter dismay. She understood now, Zep wasn’t being a merry fool, he was only wanting to understand why Mother’s Day seemed so important to everyone. Why he couldn’t feel nor experience these things the way he felt as if he should.

“I just feel shame, Hilde...” he moaned out. “I feel shame for thinking that either I was hated so much by my own mother, or that I just couldn’t love her for some reason. I’m so ashamed that I always looked forward and never looked back to who I left behind. God, Hilde, I really am an Archagent. So cold and above humanity’s logic and sentiments.”

Hilde reached out to Zep with both arms, tightening him in her embrace as they wept over each others shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Nicholas... God forbid that you should ever think it so... It’s not your fault.” 

And so they wept silently throughout the remainder of the hour. The clock once again drowning the room in its monotonous passage of time.

[viralhottopics]

Breaking bad: Hollywood wakes up to the power of dark, dangerous women

Forget the sobbing suffering beauty. From Rebecca Halls unlikable newsreader to Jessica Chastains ruthless lobbyist, this is the year of the unsympathetic, deeply flawed femme. Thank goodness for that

The good news is that there are some great female characters coming up in the cinema in 2017. The bad news, if youre looking for inspirational feminist role models, is that you wont always find them in the movies. Lurking behind such obvious audience-pleasing instances of fine upstanding womanhood as Taraji P Henson plotting a course through the cosmos in Hidden Figures, or Rachel Weisz taking antisemitism to court in Denial, lies a monstrous army of deeply flawed femmes perverse, prickly, deluded, depressed, obsessive, venal, scary. Well, I say hurrah for that.

First up, though, is the unfeasibly perfect Natalie Portman in Pablo Larrans Jackie, not so much a biopic of Jacqueline Kennedy as a tone poem evoking its subjects transformation from trophy wife via weeping widow into American icon, a makeover forged by grief. In recreating a historical event made to seem ever more removed from reality by more than half a century of Zapruder, Warhol and conspiracy theorising, the film-maker and his leading lady transport us back to basics: the barely imaginable horror of witnessing your husbands brains being blown out. Portman knocks it out of the park, giving a masterclass in suffering beautifully.

And I mean beautifully. Whereas the likes of Claire Danes and Laura Dern convey excoriating emotional pain by snivelling like you and me, cry-faces scrunched up and shoulders heaving, Portman weeps like a lady, trying to blink back her tears, elegant eyebrows rearing up like rival caterpillars to greet each other across her lightly furrowed brow. She cries cute, a fan comments beneath one of the supercuts of Portmans comely blubbing in everything from Lon to V for Vendetta to the Star Wars prequels to Black Swan. And Larrans camera loves her, whether shes crying in the shower or chaperoning her husbands coffin on Air Force One.

Tippi Hedren in Hitchcocks The Birds. Photograph: Allstar/Cinetext/Universal

There is something exquisitely cinematic in the suffering of women, and depicting their torment in big closeup has long been a favourite pursuit of male auteurs. How often do their cameras linger on womens pleasure? Try to think of great actressy moments in the cinema and the memory veers towards heartbreak more than happiness or fulfilment. Greta Garbo may have laughed in Ninotchka, but this was already so atypical that the publicity department bragged about it on the poster.

No wonder there have been so many films about Joan of Arc – all that in-your-face spiritual agony, with the religious element providing a righteous front for the voyeuristic revelling in pain. In The Passion of Joan of Arc, Carl Dreyer dwells on Falconettis sublime anguish so relentlessly his camera is practically lapping up her tears. One thinks of the womens pictures of Douglas Sirk or Max Ophls, or Rainer Werner Fassbinder (Margit Carstensen in The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant), or Meryl Streep tortured by Sophies Choice, or, more recently, Nicole Kidman in Birth, or Marion Cotillard howling the roof down in La Vie en Rose or Rust and Bone.

Alfred Hitchcock pretty much dedicated his career to putting his leading ladies through the wringer, and duly subjected Joan Fontaine, Ingrid Bergman and Kim Novak to the sort of carefully calibrated mistreatment guaranteed to make them look more alluring than ever. This tendency reached its apex in The Birds, where Tippi Hedren starts off as the epitome of cool blonde chic (impeccable coiffure, spotless suit and pearls) and ends up decoiffed, streaked with blood, her nylons laddered a traumatised victim of assault. Hitchcock is clearly getting off on it. Male directors, few of them attractive physical specimens themselves, like nothing better than to knock perfect leading actresses off their pedestals.

The most Hitchcockian heroine of 2016 was Amy Adams in Tom Fords Nocturnal Animals. Adams plays Susan, a super-soigne Los Angeles art gallery owner who lives in a concrete and glass Bel Air mansion and sports impeccable maquillage, preternaturally straight hair, high-tone couture (as youd expect in a film from the former creative director of Gucci), statement jewellery so pronounced you half expect it to start talking and a fabulously good-looking husband who keeps her in the style to which she is accustomed.

Perfectly flawed Amy Adams as Susan Morrow in Nocturnal Animals. Photograph: Merrick Morton/Universal

But, this being a revenge thriller (albeit not necessarily the sort that youre expecting) the delivery of the manuscript of a novel by her first husband throws a spanner into the perfection. Unlike Hitchcock, Ford is a prime physical specimen, and one can safely assume his interest in her downfall isnt so much sexual as conjuring classic Hollywood by expressing emotion via screen style. But many filmgoers have felt alienated by Susan not being sympathetic, and condemnations of the film as misogynistic are not hard to find. A love letter to sexist movies (Bitch Flicks); epitomises salacious, exploitative misogyny (Ruthfully Yours); an ugly, mean-spirited story from start to finish, with a deep misogyny at its core (Bouquets & Brickbats).

I suppose if you like your films to be purveyors of Old Testament-style justice, in which anything unpleasant that may happen to, say, a career woman must be de facto punishment for sins she has committed, then Fords treatment of her is as cruel as that of her ex-husband. But Nocturnal Animals is a cautionary tale, not a moral one. I prefer to think of Susan as a tragically flawed human being, wrestling with lifes complexities and suffering the consequences of her own misguided decisions, yet in control of her own destiny, just like all the best male movie characters. Im not interested in watching the hackneyed rise and fall and rise again of a one-dimensional paragon who learns from her mistakes, triumphs over sexist opposition and emerges in the third act as a shining feminist role model. I want compelling drama and dark nights of the feminine soul. I want Shakespearean, and if that means a character suffering, so be it.

And it looks as if 2017 might be stepping up to bat. Brace yourself for a coven of female characters who are no more sympathetic than Susan. Prepare to see them make awful decisions and do bad things, with results that are sometimes tragic, sometimes comic, sometimes both simultaneously. In Christine, Rebecca Hall gives a fearlessly unlikable performance as an ambitious Florida newscaster whose refusal to play the game leads her into some very dark places. In Miss Sloane, Jessica Chastain is bracingly uningratiating as a ruthless Washington DC lobbyist. In Elle, Isabelle Huppert plays a chilly businesswoman who reacts to being raped by refusing to embrace the traditional movie roles of victim, survivor or avenger, instead striking out into unexpected and distinctly uncomfortable territory.

Elle trailer: Isabelle Huppert stars in Paul Verhoevens noir thriller exclusive video

All these are hints that the next few months could be one of the most promising seasons for choice female roles in years, and what is especially exciting is that female film-makers visions are at last entering the picture. In the three chapters of Certain Women, Kelly Reichardt presents the non-glamorous lives of Laura Dern, Michelle Williams and Lily Gladstone in a precisely observed manner that is the opposite of melodramatic, though one of the segments will still break your heart. Maren Ades Toni Erdmann may be named after the grotesque alter ego of its leading male character, but its chiefly about the strained relationship with his daughter (Sandra Hller), a workaholic businesswoman leading a bleak life in Bucharest. Like Reichardt, Ade isnt in a hurry and prefers slice of life to glamour, but the film packs at least two audience-pleasing highlights to rank with any by commercial Hollywood.

But you dont have to settle for realism, because the more we see movies by female film-makers, the more its evident that the female point of view, like the male one, is not some homogeneous, touchy feely Mama Mia!-type hoedown. Alice Lowe stars in her own directing debut, the deliciously mean-spirited Prevenge, as a pregnant woman whose foetus urges her to kill, and kill again. Lowes Arnold Bennett-ish ear for one-liners, insight into hormonal chaos, and gleeful splatter combine to present a female POV youve never seen before. From the other side of the Atlantic, Anna Biller pays visual homage to the colourful style of 1970s occult thrillers in The Love Witch, the tale of a Californian femme fatale (Samantha Robinson) whose love spells have bloody consequences, but gives the story a modern feminist twist.

Alice Lowe as a woman whose foetus urges her to kill in horror flick Prevenge. Photograph: Western Edge Pictures

And while there is no UK release date for it yet, keep your eyes peeled for Julia Ducournaus Raw, the best and bloodiest slice of body horror since David Cronenberg in his prime. Its about a naive French veterinary student (Garance Marillier) whose hair-raising rite of passage includes brutal hazing, eating raw liver, cannibalism and the funniest, most gruesome bikini waxing ever filmed.

Theres more than enough room for all these films. Some you may love, others you might loathe, but there is no longer any excuse to pin feminist hopes and dreams on to a single film or female character. We contain multitudes.

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from Breaking bad: Hollywood wakes up to the power of dark, dangerous women