#summary number 63

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Granny's Sugar Cookies

Summary: Working in Hero Force’s mail room is the equivalent of being a poison taster for monarchs – it wasn’t a matter of if a disgruntled citizen was going to send Hero Force a bomb, but when.

Based off this prompt (X)

--------.

Travis, your supervisor, makes you take Disposal Training every two weeks to keep your skills fresh for the inevitable day something does show up in the mail.

“You’re lucky,” Travis says with his wide arms folded over his chest. He still wears the mail uniform from the 90’s with the pale blue, short-sleeved button down and the darker blue pinstripes. The Hero Force mask covering half of his face is in the new “regulation black” that every Hero Force personnel has to put on at the start of every shift. You hear Travis complain that they won’t let him wear the old brown one a lot. “But luck won’t ever take you further than training, kid.”

You aren’t a kid. In fact, Travis could almost be your kid. Your pension isn’t supposed to start for another three years, so that’s how long you need this job to last. There are rumors that Travis is trying to get you to quit before then as a way to prevent you from collecting retirement benefits from Hero Force. Save the company some money. You don’t think that’s true. You think that the extra training every second week is actually Travis’ way of being kind – you get to sit in the air-conditioned office for two hours and watch the same videos with your feet propped up.

Still, it is unusual that you haven’t opened anything criminal yet. Lots of people cautioned you against taking the job. Your neighbors, friends, your husband…even your eldest -who also works for Hero Force and who suggested it to you in the first place. They said it was the equivalent of being a poison taster for monarchs – it wasn’t a matter of if a disgruntled citizen was going to send Hero Force a bomb, but when.

“I don’t think it happens as often as people think,” you’d told your husband and child when the offer letter came. What you didn’t say was we don’t have a choice. You’d laughed and petted the coffee table. “Now maybe we can think about getting this old thing refinished, hm?”

Three years isn’t a long time anymore, not with a good 63 of them already under your belt. When the financial advisor ran the numbers and grimly told you how long you’d need to stay in the workforce, you’d been relieved. You’re fortunate that being a baker for most of your life has kept you reasonably fit and that you’re used to being on your feet.

Still, eight hours is a long time for anyone to be staring at bland white envelopes and brown boxes wrapped with yellow tape, so you’re thinking longingly of the bath you know your husband will have drawn for you at home when the blast doors slam down over the exit, trapping you and three of your coworkers in the sorting room.

You blink at the heavy metal plate that nearly took your (seemingly ever-growing) nose right off your face. The WARNING light hanging above the door is lit, casting the room in a striking red glow.

“You scanned that here?” Ring asks. He’s over at the sorting table, standing over the new hire’s shoulder. He gapes down at the screen held between her hands. It shows an x-ray of the box sitting innocuously on the sorting table. “Boxes with that dimension are supposed to be scanned in the disposal room!”

“It’s my last package,” the new hire says. You have to strain to hear her voice despite only being a dozen feet away. She’s already been given a nickname – Mouse. Fear makes her even quieter than before. “I-I thought—It’s to Strongwoman. Who would even think sending her a bomb would work? She got hit by a bus last week and the bus lost.”

“You know we don’t sort based on recipient,” Hawk says, pinching the bridge of her nose under her mask. She’s the veteran in the room, gaining her nickname from being the longest surviving member of the mail room after Travis and for having the highest number of successful disposals in history. Hawk eyed. “Your scan just told the defense system there’s a bomb in a vulnerable part of headquarters. We’ll be trapped here until they can get Demolition out to disarm it.”

“Or until it goes off,” Ring offers helpfully. Ring stands for ring the alarm, something he’s always doing. “Which it probably will before Demolition flies over from freakin’ California.”

Mouse hiccups. Her hands tremble on the scanner. “I-I’m sorry. Maybe it’s not…it could be something else?”

Ring and Hawk look at each other over her head. Ring tilts his head to the scanner. Hawk’s lips thin.

Translation: Unlikely.

“Maybe,” Hawk says. She puts a comforting hand on Mouse’s shoulder. “The only way to tell for sure is to open it.”

“Which protocol says we shouldn’t do,” Ring says.

You rub your nose. You don’t have to go to the bathroom this second, but you know your body. Protocol is not to carry a phone in the sorting room, so none of you have a way to you’re your husband and let him know you’ll be late. “How long do you think it will take for a disposal team to arrive? Supposing there’s one besides Demolition.”

Three heads whip towards you. There’s a range of emotions there, from surprise to dismay to dread.

“Oh no,” Mouse whispers, “I’ve killed Granny too.”

“If you survive, no one will ever forgive you,” Ring says.

Mouse’s eyes well with tears. “R-really?”

“Even Neon loves her muffins—"

Hawk hits him over the head hard enough his mask slips down over his eyes. While he curses and sets it to rights, she says, “Sorry, Granny. We’ll probably be waiting a while.”

You tug at your cardigan and shuffle over. The box is too big to be scanned in the sorting room – about the size of a case of flour you used to get delivered to the shop. The three of them make room for you on their side of the table. You squint at the screen. “What type of bomb is it?”

“Not like any I’ve seen before,” Hawk says. She takes the scanner from Mouse and angles it towards you. The box is shown in green and black lines. Inside is a cube of white and some curly bits. There are strange shadows across each shape, as if there are layers and layers of something over the top. “You?”

You raise your eyebrows. You thought it was common knowledge. “Well, I’ve never seen one before outside of training.”

Mouse starts. “Never seen—”

“Granny is lucky,” Ring says. He pats her on the shoulder like Hawk had. It’s nowhere near as comforting. “You’re just unlucky enough to have canceled that out.”

You pull out your glasses. You’re supposed to get the mask with your prescription over the eyes to prevent anyone from recognizing your personal eyewear. You think the prescription masks are itchy, however, so you regularly sneak them in your cardigan pocket. The scanner remains incomprehensible to you, even with them on. “It doesn’t look anything like it does in training.” You frown as the curls begin to look like ribbon the longer you stare at them. “Are you sure this is a bomb?”

“The defense system triggered on it,” Hawk says.

You wave your hand. These new AI systems are wrong all the time. You recently saw a news article about how the facial recognition software at the Hero Academy failed to pick out a top journalist, allowing him complete access to the campus. “They wouldn’t have us here sorting if the system were infallible.”

A strange look crosses Hawk’s face. “That’s one perspective.”

“It’s a state-of-the-art system,” Ring tells Mouse in a low tone. You imagine he thinks you can’t hear him or the faint laughter in his voice. “It’s not wrong.”

That grates. You may be new to the sorting room, but you aren’t wrong to question the systems. You point. “It could be cookies. See these disks here? Sugar cookies, I used to make a recipe just as thick. They’ve been very popular to send to Strongwoman lately; she must like them. And that’s the ribbon tying the box closed.”

“No,” Ring says. “No, it’s not cookies, Granny.”

Your spine stiffens. “I think it is.”

“Granny,” Hawk says tentatively. “Do you…often think things like these are cookies?”

“People do send the heroes a lot of baked goods,” you say. “It’s the best way to show gratitude!”

Mouse’s jaw drops. In a normal voice, she says, “You’ve been sending bombs onto heroes thinking they’re cookies?”

“Because they are,” you say.

“Oh my god,” Ring says. “Granny has seen a bomb, she just hasn’t recognized one before. Oh my god.”

You’re too old to stamp your feet. Instead, you narrow your eyes at Ring like you did when your eldest drew on the walls. “I have not. I open each package—”

“You open them?!”

“Protocol—"

“-and they’re always just cookies,” you say. You snag the package before any of them can move. “I’ll prove it to you!”

There’s a bit of a scuffle. Mouse doesn’t move out of the way of Ring’s lunge in time, and they both topple onto the table. Hawk tries to yank the package away from you, shouting something or other about better to be cautious or Granny stop! But you’re stronger than they think. They may call you Granny, but you’re only 63! Do they think you need a cane to walk?

You rip open the tape. Mouse screams. Ring whimpers. Hawk closes her eyes tight. You shake out the contents of the box.

A pink pastry plops out of the package and onto the scanning table. The three of them are frozen, eyes darting over the pretty ribbon curled into a bow holding it closed. With an indignant huff, you use a letter opener to cut the ribbon and flip back the lid.

Sugar cookies in six sloppy rows and stacked four deep sit inside.

“See?” you say triumphantly. “Sugar cookies!”

Hawk’s brow is furrowed. “That’s not—that can’t be—”

The bomb doors slide down and the WARNING light switches off. The system beeps three times and then falls silent. The quiet that fills the room sounds like victory.

“…so I can go home now?” Mouse asks.

“Yes,” you say smugly. You know it’s bad manners, but all the excitement has dropped your blood sugar. You snag a cookie and bite into it. “We all can.”

Ring and Hawk stay behind, staring from the box to each other and back again as you go home.

----.

You have two days off, and then Travis is off the day you come back so it takes three days for someone to tell you it was a bomb in that box.

That someone is Foresight, the leader of Hero Force.

He looks out of place in the sorting room, smiling and standing by the door as you shuffle from cart to cart to collect your jobs for the day. Travis is there with his arms folded and his eyes narrowed on Foresight.

“We call your class of power S-class,” Foresight explains. “The ability to change reality with a thought – it’s only been observed in a handful of super-powered individuals.”

“I don’t care what power she has,” Travis says. “You aren’t poaching Granny.”

“I would also like to stay in the mail room,” you say.

Foresight opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. He looks bemused as he says, “Alright then. We do need to quantify your power. Does Thursday work for you?”

“Yes,” Travis answers for you. “We’ll be there.”

Your ears perk up. Maybe it will be a long meeting. Maybe you’ll have a chance to sit down. “Thursday it is then. I’ll bring some snacks for everyone.”

----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to support me and see stories like this one before anyone else, please consider checking out my Patreon(X)!

Next week's story is already posted and is a follow up to this story (X) about Nadezh and Gannon

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ daddy playlist II (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : f1 gird x leclerc! reader ( platonic )

summary: the leclerc sister causing havoc in the f1 driver’s life again

tw : fluff; chaos, SUGGESTIVE

fc : emma chamberlain

a/n : I hope you like it and thank you so much for supporting me ! lysm 🫶🏻 the reader is gay, so don’t like it, don’t read it 🫶🏻 also, there are a lot of suggestive jokes, so please don’t read if you are uncomfortable

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

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babyn ok, Kimi is a baddie fr

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babyn KIKAAA , I WAS DRUNK WITH BIANCA AND SHE IS ON MY BATHROOM FLOOR !? ALSO WHY WAS ON THE FLOOR ! KIKAAA ANSWER ME !? I DONT REMEMBER THESE PCITURES! WAIT OH MY GOD ! KIKA

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babyn alright guys, I was drunk. Lando is hating me for picking my hangover ass. PLEASE NO BIANCA TALKS

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babyn pg -13 date only

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let me know if you want to be added or removed to the tg!

permanent tg: @isotopemylove @chair-things @justaf1girl @nichmeddar @bibblemiluvr @blushmimi @nikfigueiredo @amz824 @ivegotparticulartaste @raizelchrysanderoctavius @freyathehuntress @piastri-fvx @sadiemack9 @ilivbullyingjeongin @cherry-piee @luvleylisen @sweate-r-weathe-r @jxnellat @loveofmylife12 @budgetcupid @lilaissa @scorpiodiosa @wondergirl101ks @nichmeddar @hoeforlifee @urfavnoirette @lily-ann-b @okcurran @miniboast @teti-menchon0604 @motorsportloverf1 @formula1-motogpfan

[candykissd]

drunk bingo

pairings : harry lewis x female reader

summary : drunk bingo is a crazy time, especially when you're a lightweight. although, harry's there to take care of you.

warnings : alcohol consumption, nausea, mature language, fluff

beths notes : love drunk bingo vids sm!! 💘

the flashing lights were enough to make you feel sick, sicker than you already did. drunk bingo was one of your most favourite events, though, it's safe to say alcohol isn't your best friend.

you were already pretty much pissed by the third drink, and yet somehow were managing to pass out coherent sentences.. up until the eight drink, at least.

you were wedged between george and harry, with bach and arthur tv on the ends of the table. at the start of the night you were sure you were going to be the best team, winning all the challenges, calling bingo here and there. but then they decided to give you a few drinks. not a smart move.

"number 63!" simon called out from the platform on which he stood, the various flashing lights surrounding him sending your head spinning into a vortex of feeling sorry for yourself.

"'m gonna get some air.." you slurred out as you stood up, making your way around the tables, not without stumbling into a few, and finding the back door. pushing it open with all your might and leaning against the railing outside.

"she okay?" arthur asked the other boys as he saw her leave. "yeah, probably just so unbelievably shitfaced." harry shrugged as he stood up, following along the trail that you had walked just a minute ago.

deep breathe in, deep breathe out, is what you told yourself, the nauseous feeling creeping up on you again, despite the fact that it felt as though it had only just washed away. you couldn't help but jump in your skin as you felt a hand on your lower back.

"you okay?" sounded harry's familiar voice as he smiled down at you.

"yeah... 'm good." you mumbled out, raising your hand to your forehead as you turned slightly to face him, whilst you still felt ill, you couldn't help but smile up at him.

you'd liked harry for the longest time, and the two of you had somewhat of a flirtation-ship, always taking the piss out of each other, and flirting with one another. but, it was all harmless. you both denied having feelings for each other; even though all of your friends could see through it.

harry's hand slid up your back, his touch light, but enough to make you shiver as his hand made its way to play with your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. "you wanna go home?" he asked, tilting his head, as if he was secretly admiring you, which he wasnt doing a good job at hiding.

you didn't say anything, not feeling the need, nor the ability to speak properly, just nodding and smiling softly at him as he stood up straight.

he turned around and signalled to the others through the door that he was taking you home, and just to carry on with the game, before placing his hands on your shoulders from behind, spinning you around and practically pushing you towards the main road where he called for a taxi.

when the two of you got to your apartment, you fumbled around in your bag for your keys. harry laughing as he saw you struggle, grabbing your bag and pulling out your keys for you, unlocking the door and letting you stumble inside first, shutting the door behind him as he followed you in.

it was a good thing harry good handle is alcohol, as he was damn near sober, sober enough to take care of you properly.

you stumbled into the kitchen, steadying yourself with your hands on the countertop as you looked over at him.

"come on.. let's get you ready for bed." he said with a fond smile as he picked you up bridal style, a childish giggle escaping your lips as your arms wrapped around his neck, just as an extra precaution to make sure he doesn't drop you.

"harry wroetoshaw lewis if you drop me..." you laughed out, throwing your head back as he walked you down the hallway and into your bedroom.

"i won't drop you, love, don't you fret." he shook his head playfully as he plopped you down on the edge of your bed.

you sighed contently as you watched him disappear into your en suite bathroom, coming out with the bottle of micellar water and a cotton wool pad, crouching down infront of you.

without saying anything, he wet the wool pad with the micellar water and helped you wipe the makeup of your face, eliciting a small laugh from you and a smile.

once all your makeup was off he threw the cotton wool pad in the bin and looked at you, "you're so good to me..." you mumbled, titling your head as you smiled at him childishly.

"well, im not prepared to get a bollocking off of you in the morning when you wake up with your makeup on." he laughed out as he stood up.

you flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. "these jeans are so uncomfy.." you grumbled out as you swayed from side to side on the bed, as if the action would somehow wriggle them off of your body.

"you wanna get changed?" he asked, looking down at you as you nodded.

"gimme your hoodie." you practically demanded, crossing your arms as he laughed and shook his head.

"so demanding..." he mumbled, pulling his hoodie off over his head, the shirt that he had on underneath riding up slightly, a sight that caused a slight blush to creep up on your face, despite the flush you originally had from the alcohol in your system.

he walked over and stood infront of you, "arms up." he motioned with his hands as well as his words, with you happily obliging as he pulled the top you were wearing off your torso and over your head, placing it on the bed beside you.

you fumbled with the button of your jeans and unzipped them, laying back and lifting up your hips slightly as he pulled the denim off of your legs in one swift movement, before helping you into his hoodie, which you quickly settled into, the warmth of his body still stuck in the fabric, as well as the subtle scent of his cologne.

you let out a soft hum as you crawled over into your bed, snuggling in under the duvet, your head resting perfectly on the pillows.

"you comfy?" he asked, smiling at your drunken state.

"mhm.." you hummed with a small nod, just as extra reassurance. he nodded slightly as your eyes closed, and he knew you'd quickly drifted off to sleep as he made his way to your bedroom door, flicking the light off on his way out, making sure not to make too much noise when leaving your apartment.

the fresh sunlight woke you up as it filtered through the curtains of your room, the sun just directly shining on you as you rolled over with a groan, trying your hardest to shield yourself from the blinding light.

your eyes fluttered open, settling on the glass of water and paracetamol on the bedside table, a small smile forming on your face, your mind flooding with the memories of the previous night, and just how well harry had taken care of you. looking down at yourself and seeing the hoodie your were wrapped up warm in, quickly identifying it is harry's, causing your smile to grow.

although the smile was quickly overtaken by a frown as the pounding in your head grew. pushing yourself up on your arms slowly, and leaning back against the headboard; you reached over for the glass of water and tablet, desperate for some sort of pain relief.

and all you could thing to yourself was:

harry lewis, the man you are.

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙ur hot call me | GR63˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: george russell x florist y/n reader (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: none jus fluff :)

summary: in which a mysterious boy leaves a note for you to call him in your workplace, so you do

a/n: got a super vague request for george content so hope i did him justice!!! i luv george sorry if it's soo short

request!!!!: hello hello, i would like to request a george smau? i know we love him and carmen but... i'm in my george feels tonight so... i don't think i have an actual request i just want more george...

fc: various brunette girls from pinterest

my masterlist

instagram ->

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georgerussell63 🌊🌺👯‍♂️🍷

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charles_leclerc thanks again for the flowers george

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THE END 🤍

[toomanytookas]

PPCU Fandom Projects Digest:

February/March 2025

A summary of projects that wrapped up last month, ones to look forward to this month (and more), and one plucked from the past to (re)discover for your TBR! First time hearing about the PPCU Fandom Projects database? More info available here.

Ramadan kareem to anyone observing!

Recently Completed Projects

@almostfoxglove - Let’s Get Angsty

@beefrobeefcal - Half Bricked, Wrong Time

@grogusmum - Hazel’s Valentine’s Day Pedro Boy Conversation Hearts Game

@happypedrohours - Bouquets of Pedro Creativity Challenge

@ishabull - The Cupid Seller Valentine's Extravaganza

@javierpena-inatacvest - BIPOC Author Celebration

@kedsandtubesocks - Wild Ride

@magpiepills & @schnarfer - Bat & Al’s Hidden Treasure 2.0

Open to Participants

@chaotic-mystery - Wired 4 U [Let the brain rewiring commence with your choice of a smut, angst, of fluff themed track as your prompt]

@evolnoomym - First Birthday Celebration [Craft a moodboard for a P boy of your choice with an assigned prompt]

@itwasnttimethatdidit - Italian Music Challenge [Be inspired by an assigned piece of Italian music]

@guiltyasdave & @sizzlingcloudmentality - Writing Through the Seasons [A smutty Fall-time Max is calling your name]

@jolapeno - April Showers 2.0 [Let the rain fall down! ☔️]

@mothandpidgeon, @schnarfer & @whocaresstillthelouvre - Magic Number Writing Challenge [Why choose one P boy when you could choose two? 👀👯‍♂️]

@pedropascalsx - 50th birthday fundraiser [A fundraiser for United We Dream, an advocacy organisation for immigrant youth, in honour of Pedro's 50th birthday]

@secretelephanttattoo - New Moot Speed Dating [Meet new fandom folks with the help of some fun speedmooting questions]

@the-blind-assassin-12 - March Fic Madness 2025 [Challenge yourself to comment on 63 works in the month of March]

@yxtkiwiyxt - Never Have I Ever [The deadline has been extended!]

Closed for participants - but you can still get hyped for!

@toomanystoriessolittletime - 47 minutes in heaven

(Re)Discover an Older Project

@secretelephanttattoo - Fanfiction Birthdays

Check out the masterlist for this project, which celebrated the birthdays of fics with an ask to the author from El! 

[georgeharrisonlover]

If I Fell | Part 2

Summary: After giving my number to George the night we met, I wait upon the call. He asks me out on a date. Does this affect the future from now on or?

Liverpool 63'

Fluff

Words: 1438

George Harrison x Reader

It's been a few days since I gave George my number. That's all I could have been wondering about for the past few days. Every time the phone rang, I thought it was him, but no.

One afternoon, I heard the phone ring once, and I ignored it since I thought it wouldn't be George. I hear another ring and go to answer it. 

“Hello,” I said with a saddened voice.

“Hello, Is this y/n? It's George… George Harrison from The Cavern”

I couldn't stop smiling, after waiting these few days he finally rang me up. “Oh yes, this is her speaking!” I said in a chirping voice. 

“Hey. Um, I was wondering if you would wanna have dinner and go to the cavern? I have to perform again with the boys. If you want to go?” said George with a pleasing voice.

“I thought you’d never ask!” Both chuckle through the phone, exchanging locations for George to pick me up.

“So see you at 6 o'clock,” he said. 

“See ya bye!” I replied.

“Bye!” the phone then ended. After that, I went running into my room deciding what to wear.

A few hours passed, and all I could think about was the dinner I and George would be having and seeing him perform. Finishing a few more touches, I grab my purse.

Seeing George standing outside my apartment complex. Aw man, he's very handsome, I could admire him forever.

“Hello, love,” said George.

“Hey George,” I replied.

We both went walking to dinner and it took a little while, but we both enjoyed the conversation.

Arriving at the restaurant, I could spot the rest of the boys there, Ringo, Paul, and John. Trying to hide in the corner of the restaurant with glasses and fake mustaches. I looked at George and thought he’d know about this but he didn't. He was focusing on the dinner reservation he had made.

The next moment George grabs my hand, feeling his sweaty palms, and takes me in the direction of the table. It was right next to the boys. I could hear their little giggles, wondering how George hadn't noticed them yet.

George and I started a conversation, getting to know each other more. He was talking about how he started playing the guitar, what kind of music he listened to, and about the boys. He was telling me all about them and their little secrets, and I could see the boys' faces started turning red from the embarrassment. I couldn't help but laugh. Me and George enjoyed dinner and hoped that this would last forever. 

The time came to leave the restaurant and finally, George noticed the boys right next to us. I could see his face turn angry at the boys for not letting him have one dinner with a girl he met. 

“Why are you guys here? I told you guys, I would tell you everything that happened,” said George with anger. 

“Well we had to get to know more about y/n before we approve,” said John.

“You're Not my mother, John,” said George.

“Well it's good we came 'cause you exposed all our little secrets,” said Paul.

Me and Ringo stared at each other and just started cracking up. We both thought it was a skit but it wasn't. All three of them, George, John, and Paul were serious. Ringo and I just couldn't stop laughing, that out of nowhere they started too.

“Man, what a night!” I said. Everyone agrees

Leaving the restaurant we all walked to the cavern. Everyone was talking about everything, like the dinner we just had and the performance they were going to have. Me and George were holding each other's hands and admiring the whole moment.

“Ay look George finally holding a girl's hand!” chuckled Ringo.

“Finally man, cheers on both of them!” said John. Man, what a group George was in and I enjoyed it.

Georges POV

Man, what a night I have spent with Y/n. She's just amazing, especially with the boys. They are all embarrassing me and I have had enough. I think she's the one. Maybe too soon to say but man she's the only one who gets me. I could admired her for all my life.

Right now we are still walking with the boys to the cavern. Y/n is talking to the boys and making the boys laugh. I stared at her the whole way there, thank God she or the boys noticed.

Arriving at the cavern, I was still holding her hand. Helping her go down the stairs. Me and the boys have to perform in less than 15 minutes. The boys went rushing to prepare while I took y/n to grab a drink and seat her near the stage.

“I’ll be back, just watch us, please,” I said with a smile.

“Okay!” she smiled.

Her smile would be stuck in my mind the whole night performing. As I went to the boys, I could overhear them talking about Y/n. 

“Man, if George doesn't take her and appreciate her, man, I might have to steal her from him,” said Paul. 

“Right! If he doesn't, he’ll get a piece from us,” said Ringo.

Interrupting their conversation, I entered, “She's the one guys!” All of the three jumped with fear.

“Ah man, why’d you do that,” said John. 

“She the one, she's everything I want and more!” I said even louder and prouder. 

“Well she better and if not I will steal her,” said Paul. Ringo nodded to what Paul had said.

In preparing for the performance, I want to perform a special thing just for y/n. “Hey guys, could I possibly sing a song tonight?” I said.

“What song is on your mind?” said John.

“Oooo is this for her,” said Ringo. 

“Maybe” I chuckled.

Getting on the stage, I was pure nervous. I know I had performed in front of y/n but this time it felt more serious. I glanced at her smile and it was wonderful. Performing for a couple minutes it was my turn to sing.

“Well I love singing, but I think it's time for someone new. For the next performance, George, our lead guitarist will sing Take Care of My Baby, sung by Bobby Vee,” said John, and I went up to the mic.

…

After singing the song, I saw her smiling even more. It was just a wonderful night. Everything that happened today would be for the books.

…

Back to Y/n POV

I just finished watching George play Take Care of My Baby by Bobby Vee. It was just amazing. His voice was just different from the others. They kept playing after George sang. 

After the performance, I sat there thinking about the moments that had happened. It felt romantic. I felt a tap on my shoulder. That made me come to realize reality. I looked up and it was George.

I immediately smiled. Standing up immediately and hugging him. “You were amazing and so were the other boys!” I said hugging him.

“Thank you!” George said.

This moment was amazing. We both then held each other's hands and walked to get his guitar and met the rest of the boys. 

…

“So y/n, we approve for you to date our lovely George, please take care of him, he's one in a million,” said Ringo. I giggle at Ringo's response.

“Well you guys better, because I think she's the one,” said George. 

I felt my heart skip a beat. I never heard someone say that, not like in the movies. I looked up at George smiling, and he smiled back. 

…

All of us started going up the stairs and finally hit the fresh air out of the cavern. Everyone was going home except George, who was planning to leave me at my apartment. You all said your goodbyes and parted ways. Me and George walked a few blocks to arrive at my destination.

“It was a wonderful night with you, y/n!” said George.

“It was, especially that song you sang,” I said

“It reminded me of you,” He said.

Smiling at his response, I replied “We should go on another date soon!”

“Maybe sooner than you think” He winked. 

This was the final goodbye for now. “Goodbye y/n,” George said.

“Goodbye George,” I said. As I leaned in to give him a light kiss on his lips. 

After that, I ran to my apartment. Thinking to myself, what a night.

[rbrooksdesign]

"DMT-EDMT Series for December Geometry #30"

From another perspective...

Yesterday's post (#29)

The Butterfly Fractal 1 (BF1) is a fractal resulting from the simple doubling of quantity "1" -- 1 -- 1x2=2 -- 1x2x2=4. -- 1x2x2x2=8,...16--32--64...

When you lay it out into its "Butterfly-like" array, you can see that every "1" becomes a new source for the self-similar, re-iterative redundancy of the same "fractal" pattern within.

The BF1 pattern is repeated on both sides (of the "wings.”)

Today...

The central BF1 -- 1--2-- 4--8--16--32--64 in YELLOW is the key.

Yesterday (MULTI-COLOR butterfly) we showed it formed the two sides (wings) of the butterfly-like pattern.

It, in turn, informs the Mersenne Prime Square (MPS) -- (BLUE BF1 Columns) -- as the 127 BF1 Columns would actually form a true square if they were scaled down to equal the width.

Now, on the right, we have a "summary" of all that is going on in the figures on the left. It reveals 8 of the 10 ID parameters that ALL "containers" follow.

p=Prime, but it may be easier to think of it as the exponential power that 2 is raised to. (Reason: for some "containers" p is not prime, yet their pattern follows as though it was.) See below.

This "summary" pattern is EXACTLY the same for ALL SET 1 and SET 2 "containers" -- including the Mp-PN. This is a TRUE Mp-PN SET 1 "container."

Personally, the jump from the BF1 butterfly image to either of the MPS images is harder to keep straight until one remembers that the MPS presents the same information in 3 overlapping layers:

1. MPS = z² =127² = 16129

2. PN = xz = 64•127 = 8128, and, OC = yz = 63•127 = 8001, and, PN+OC = 8128+8001 = 16129

3. PNS = x² = 64² = 4096, and, OCS = y² = 63² = 3969, and, CR (Complement Rectangle) = xy = 64•63 = 4032, thus PNS + OCS + 2(CR) = 4096+3969+2(4032) = 16129=MPS.

Perfect Number Square (PNS) + CR = PN, and, ODD Complement Square (OCS) + CR = OC.

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

Math: Euclid-Euler Theorem = 2ᵖ⁻¹ (2ᵖ -1) = Perfect Number (PN) where 2ᵖ⁻¹ = x = 2⁶ = 64, and, 2ᵖ -1 = z = 127 = Mersenne Prime (Mp), as xz=PN.

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

more...

[f1femslashfest]

Oscar Piastri/Carlos Sainz Jr | 1.5k | 4 Chapters | Rated T

tags: alternate universe - pop stars, rule 63, getting together, secret relationship,

summary:

Walking into the paddock for the Spanish Grand Prix, Octavia didn't expect to walk out with a popstar's number.

[link] by @ashzerog19

[100boxties]

WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS, RAFAEL DEL BOSQUE.

BASICS:

full name  : rafael del bosque. nicknames  :  rafa. birthdate  : 12th jan (  63 ). hometown  : coronado. traits : obsessive, strategic, unforgiving, paranoid. gender  +  pronouns  : cis man  +  he/him. orientation  : heterosexual. zodiac  : capricorn. occupation  : chair of del bosque enterprises. character parallels : michael corleone ( the godfather part 3 ), roderick usher ( the fall of the house of usher ), emperor joseph ii ( amadeus ). alliance : del bosque. aesthetic : whispered omens curled around his throat like a lover's hand, a cracked mirror reflecting pieces of a face, a rusted key in a trembling hand.

SUMMARY:

as a young man, the weight of legacy was a privilege. he dreamed of ruling coronado with his young ideals in mind. however, following in his father's footsteps came with decisions that turned him ruthless. he understood what it meant to be a del bosque and how heavy the burden could be.

the idea of leaving an impact, as the del bosques who came before him did, was his first mission. what could he build that wasn’t already done? things changed when a fortune teller spelled out his fate. he thought little of it, at first, but after a certain number of deaths and events that couldn’t be put down as consequence, protecting the family and everything they stood for became his priority.

this birthed a reformist — obsessive over the idea that the downfall of his family is imminent if things don’t change, paranoid that sins committed will eventually catch up to him. he plans to legitimise the family business and clean their name from blood stains. any threat will be taken care of, including his own children, if they dare. if he can turn the du bois and shibatas against each other, then he could silently step back and enjoy the show.

[my-own-walker]

Reptilia

summary: it’s your first time at the cortez. it’s devil’s night. james has plans for you. you have plans too.

warnings: sm*t, choking, murder, drowning, drugging, knives, etc

+++

He seemed impressed by the way you came in. Your poise as you made your way into the Hotel Cortez almost made the room stop. A glimmer in your eyes told him that there was something special about you. It was Devil's Night, and your curiosity had been piqued. You'd heard stories of the ghosts in the building celebrating in lavish ways on October 30th.

Your friends viewed you as mad. It was amusing to them that you believed in spirits and all things supernatural in the way you did. It wasn't just an interest, it was an obsession. A way of life.

James Patrick March watched from the balcony that overlooked the lobby. Watched as your hips swayed as you walked. Watched as a smirk stayed on your lips as you checked in. Watched as you entered the elevator with your overnight bag.

He found you as you walked through the halls to your suite. Room 63. Slinked quietly behind you until he saw an opportune moment to approach you without startling you. A soft touch glanced at your upper arm just as you stuck the key into your suite door's lock. You spun to face the dark-haired man standing before you.

'I don't mean to startle you, miss,' he spoke in a thick trans-Atlantic accent.

'Oh, not at all. I'm fine, I was ju-'

'My, you are one pretty bird,' he said in a sing-songy tone. You couldn't even respond. A hot flush rushed to your cheeks as you smiled and cast your eyes to the ground. 'Now, now, you mustn't hide that lovely face of yours.' He lifted your chin up. As your eyes met his, a funny feeling coursed through your middle. Recognition.

'Well, thank you, Mister...' you replied.

'March. James Patrick March. But you, my dear, can call me James,' he smiled.

'Y/N,' you whispered.

'Y/N,' he repeated. The word danced out of his mouth in the most delicious way, swirling around your head like a thick smoky haze. 'I have a proposition for you, Y/N.'

'You do?' you laughed.

'Come to my gathering tonight. It's in suite number 78. Knock twice and only twice,' he instructed.

'Uh, alright,' you spoke, your tone reflecting tone of someone taken aback by his forthrightness. 'I will be there, Mr. March.'

'Again dearest, it's James to you,' he declared, already walking away.

'Okay James,' you called after him, turning back to the task of getting into your room.

+

You spent the afternoon preparing yourself for the party. James was a classy man. He was a true 1930s time capsule. He spoke like a rich man and dressed like one as well. You picked out a black dress and a simple string of pearls. Something fit for a rich person’s soirée.

As soon as night fell, you were at the door marked '78' knocking twice, as James instructed.

'Ah, there she is!' James announced as he opened the door. 'Our guest of honor.' You stepped into the entryway and were met with a stale floral aroma and the most gorgeous room you'd ever seen. Candelabras burned all throughout the space, flickering, creating the perfect ambiance.

You smiled sheepishly as James led you into the dining room and presented you to the room full of people. Men dressed as serial killers sat around the table, smiling expectantly at you. Jeffery Dahmer, John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez. All horror freaks, just like you.

'Hiya,' you grinned, shifting your weight uncomfortably on your feet.

'This is Y/N,' James said, adding a flourish with his hand.

'Tell us a story, I know you're not boring,' a man dressed as Richard Ramirez quipped. 'If I have to hear about Gacy's woodworking hobby one more time I will simply scream.'

'Oh, um, well, I'm not sure what to tell,' you murmured. A table of people wanting to hear something about you. Talk about pressure.

'Dear, have a seat,' James assured you, placing his hand on the small of your back as he guided you to the nearest open chair. You sat gently and smoothed the front of your dress, looking around the table anxiously.

'Well, c'mon. Tell us somethin'!' the Ramirez lookalike pressed.

'I was afraid that you would not insist,' James smirked. 'I must hear something simply juicy about you, nightingale.' He put a hand on top of mine.

'You're in a strange part of our town, tell us something strange,' Ramirez continued.

'Okay,' you replied, steeling yourself. 'What if I told you I faked my death to come here today?'

'I'd say you're lying,' the Dahmer character spoke.

'No, sir, I did. In fact, the plot was so elaborate, I may have to disappear forever.'

'Do tell us more,' James hummed, standing and walking over to a bar cart in the corner of the room. He began pouring drinks for all of the members of the party.

'I'm more cunning than you'd think, people. I wasn't allowed to leave home. I drove my own car into the river and sold my father's gold watch to pay for my train ticket. I needed to escape, and I did. Now I am patiently waiting for the catastrophe of my situation to seem beautiful again,' you explained.

'You drove your car into a river. Real interesting,' the Ramirez character snarked, yawning.

'You sound so sleepy, just take this,' James said, handing him green-hued liquid in a crystal glass.

'Whatever, take my story as you will,' you sighed. 'Just know that there's more to me than meets the eye.' James slid a glass to you and winked.

'Drink up, dear,' he smiled. 'Everyone, drink! Let us celebrate Devil's Night.' The individuals at the table raised their glasses and sipped. You joined, but smelling the sweet licorice smell of absinthe, you thought better than to actually drink.

After some polite conversation and more drinks, the room grew in energy. About an hour went by. The people at the table became restless. Their drinks were finally beginning to take effect.

'My pretty bird,' James purred in your ear. 'Can I show you to my bedroom?'

'Absolutely,' you replied. The moment you were waiting for. He took you by the hand and guided you through the suite and into a lavish bedroom. You ignored the hoots and hollers of the other guests as you walked. Crude.

As soon as the door shut, James had you pinned against a wall, one hand around your neck, another behind your head so you wouldn’t hit it. His lips made contact with yours passionately. There was a hunger there.

‘I know there’s a darkness within you,’ James breathed, separating from your mouth for just a second before continuing to kiss you. ‘Please don't slow me down if I'm going too fast. I so desperately need you.’

You leaned into his desperation and began to fumble with the buttons on the front of his shirt. You unclipped his suspenders and threw them across the room. His shirt fell open with the release of the last button. You smoothed your hands over his strong chest. All the while, James had already unzipped your dress all too easily. It pooled heavily at your feet.

He picked you up and tossed you onto the soft bed. The silky duvet cover felt like diamonds on your bare skin. James stood at the edge of the bed removing his trousers. He slicked his hair back with one hand before returning his attention to you.

His tongue trailed from your left hip bone all the way up to your neck as he crawled onto the bed. You shivered and moaned quietly. He kissed hard and fast all over your body, making sure to leave a mark or two here and there to prove he had been there.

Your back arched as you anticipated his entrance. He thrust into you with power and let out a deep groan.

‘James,’ you cried, waves of pleasure washing over you as he fucked you brutishly. The gentle touches of earlier were replaced by animalistic passion. He placed his hands over your throat and began to choke you, just a bit. Your eyes lit up. There was nothing you loved more than that.

He slid in and out of your wet pussy mercilessly, making you continuously cry out in pleasure. It was not long before you both came with thunderous moans and screams.

James crashed down onto the bed beside you and reached over to his bedside table, lighting a cigarette before returning.

‘That was wonderful,’ he cooed.

‘It was,’ you agreed. ‘We should go again.’

‘Ah, my dear, but I have guests to attend to.’

‘I see. I really should get going, then,’ you decided, sitting up to find your dress. You couldn’t shake the pit that formed in your stomach the minute you walked in. Him not wanting more was giving you an out.

'The night's not over,’ he protested.

‘You're not trying hard enough,’ you smirked. ‘If you want me here, you really gotta try to keep me.’

‘Oh, I can think of an arrangement,’ he said, a sick tone coloring his words. You grabbed your dress from the floor and slipped it on, half zipping it before giving up. ‘Here, love, let me help you.’

You stepped over to James who was now standing beside the bed. He took the zipper in his fingers and tugged it up gently. Before you could move, though, his hand was over your mouth. His other arm was wrapped around your body, a knife hovering over your stomach.

‘The wait is over, dearest. I'm now taking over,’ he growled. ‘It’s time for the main event.’

Quick on your feet, you slipped down and out of his grip and scrambled to your feet in the corner of the room.

‘Fuck you, March, I knew this would happen,’ you spat. A look of utter confusion crossed his face. ‘I know who you are, James Patrick March. I’ve heard the stories. You’re dead.’

‘I’m sure I don’t understand,’ he started.

‘I’m sure you don’t. You’re not laughing now, huh?’ you challenged. ‘I didn’t drink that stupid shit. I know you lure people here to kill them on Devil’s Night. Innocent looking girls, like me.’

‘You’re a smart one, I see,’ he replied calmly.

‘Let me leave, and we won’t have any problems here,’ you demanded.

‘Now, bird, I see something in you, though. A tactfulness. A darkness. Something that would serve us well over on my side of the mortal plane,’ he spoke. ‘You belong with us.’

‘I risked it all to come here so I could kill you, however you kill a ghost,’ you stammered. You hadn’t entirely thought out your plan. ‘You’re evil.’

'I thought I told you, this world is not for you,’ he replied coldly, creeping toward you, knife still in hand. ‘There’s a reason you threw your old life away to be here. You want to join me.’

‘No,’ you mustered entirely flustered by his words and your lack of a solid plan. He lunged at you quickly and you dodged him, ducking to the side and rushing over to his bedside table. Once again, he made a move to grab you, but you ran, out of the room and into the suite.

The people in the dining room had migrated. They all stared at you as you made your escape, but you didn’t care.

James needed to get some semblance of decent before he came running after you, so it bought you time to figure out the way out. In a crucial mistake, though, the door you chose was not the exit. It was the door to the bathroom.

You slammed it shut behind you and barricaded yourself in by sticking a broom handle under the doorknob. You hopped into the bathtub and laid quietly, hoping no one saw you come in.

Almost seconds later, loud bangs started raining down on the wood door. The broom couldn’t withstand the blows and broke in two under the pressure. The door swung open and light streamed into the space.

‘Where the hell are you?’ he yelled.

'You sound so angry. Just calm down, you found me,’ you resigned, sitting up.

‘It’s time for you to join me, beautiful,’ he smirked darkly. He turned the bathtub tap on and held you down. You didn’t even struggle. Your fate was sealed, and you were to live out the rest of your days with him, just as the legend said.

And to him, you couldn’t drown fast enough.

+++

I love JPM stories inspired by songs I like. It really fills me with so much joy. I wanted to fit so much into this so sorry if it feels rushed!!

[corazondebeskar-reads]

march fic madness rec list

TYSM to @the-blind-assassin-12 for this absolutely awesome idea of reccing 63 fics over 31 days as a "march madness" for fic engagement!

based on these challenge guidelines, I'll update this list with my recs as the month goes on.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

key:

💀 dead dove | 🏴 dark | ⛓ bdsm | 💕 fluff

note: these are in order that I read and reblogged; the number is not a ranking of any other sort

"a kindness you can't afford" by @joelscruff 🏴 (dark!Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: there are no limits to how or when joel plays with his special girl.

2. "sweet days of summer" by @ozarkthedog (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: you and joel sneak away for a quick fuck during a family outing.

3. the gift of your grave by @gasolinerainbowpuddles (Dave York x Frankie Morales)

summary: Max has elbowed his way into a prestigious, high paying corporate career, and he enjoys the luxuries it offers – primarily, doing what he wants, getting what he wants, and never wavering from making himself the top priority. Enter Frankie, the contracted corporate pilot who’s on the upswing after a long line of struggles and mistakes. When his recovery is compromised, will Max give in to the desire to put someone else first? Will Frankie allow himself to believe he’s worthy of being put first?

4. "between two lungs" by @ozarkthedog (Joel Miller x f!reader x Tess Servopolous)

summary: you join Joel and Tess mid fuck.

5. "Swelter" by @notjustjavierpena (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

6. "you wanted this" series (ongoing) by @alwaysmicado (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: Joel and you have a fun dynamic going. You provoke him, he punishes you - you both get off. When you meet him after you’ve fucked someone else, he decides to show you who you belong to. It’s all fun and games, right?

7. "smother" series (ongoing) by @beardedjoel 🏴⛓(dark!Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: can you hold a man as both your savior to be worshipped and the monster that he is?

8. the dress series (complete) by @janaispunk ⛓ (Dave York x f!reader)

summary: You’re having an affair with Dave York. When he takes you on a week-long vacation, you realize that you have deeper feelings for him than you should.

9. "Enjoy the Silence" by @strang3lov3 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position.

10. "glory o" by @milla-frenchy (Javi P. x f!reader x Steve Murphy)

summary: you work in a brothel, and two guys want to try something new

11. "fine art" by @lincolndjarin 🏴(dark!Javi G. x f!reader)

summary : you were an up and coming actress, javi is your biggest fan, he’d do anything to have meet you.

12. "the end of the world" by @studioghibelli (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: you had a strict relationship with joel that stuck to the rules. fuck, leave, repeat. it was only a matter of time until feelings were dragged into the mix. when joel leaves at the first sign of love, you’re left wondering what you had done wrong. 

13. "run rabbit" by @mermaidgirl30 🏴⛓(Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: At the beginning of every month, you meet Joel to play a little game of hide and seek at the abandoned mansion near Jackson. It’s not just any game of hide and seek though. It’s dark and it’s twisted. If he catches you, he gets to do whatever he wants with you.

14. "All The Fear and The Fire of The End of The World" by @criticallyacclaimedstranger (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: Joel has told Ellie about what happened in Salt Lake City, and she is livid with him. Seeking comfort with you, Joel however finds you in the grips of a nasty flu, and has to put his own needs aside to nurse you.

15. "men like me" series (ongoing?) by @lokischocolatefountain 🏴⛓ (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: Joel’s warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more

16. "seasons of you (year 1 - spring)" by @kedsandtubesocks (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: it’s your very first spring living in the valley & you’re very sure Joel Miller already wants you leave

17. dress up joel series (ongoing) by @covetyou (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: when a mysterious stranger breaks into your house, and keeps breaking into your house, he gives you the fright, and the ride, of your life. Welcome to your seasonal encounters with one Mr. Joel Miller.

18. "savior" by @ozarkthedog (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: joel saves you from a crooked qz guard and you want to thank him properly aka joel fucks you in an alley.

19. "sweet release" by @cavillscurls ⛓ (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: the aftermath of finishing without joel’s permission.

20. "over the edge" by @ilovepedro ⛓ (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: Joel agonizingly taunts you before pushing you over the edge.

21. "confines" by @gutsby 🏴⛓ (dark!Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: dark!Joel explaining to you how reader-proofed the bunker, because you're his now and he's never ever letting you go.

22. "sir" by @honeyedmiller (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: ceo!joel miller x f!reader drabble

23. "touch" by @morallyinept (Joel Miller x f!reader)

summary: Inspired by that GIF. You know the one. Yeah. Nuff’ said.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

The Estate | Sebastian Sallow x OC #63

Summary: Sebastian and Evangeline infiltrate the Muldoon family manor, and confront them about their manipulation of Evangeline's life. What they learn shocks them both.

Words: ~17,800 (holy shit this is a long chapter sorry)

Tags: Pureblood Politics, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Drama, Idiots in Love

Timeline: Mid September

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

The Ministry of Magic was quiet at this hour, its vast atrium bathed in the dim glow of enchanted lamps. The faint echo of their footsteps bounced off the polished marble floors as Evangeline and Sebastian made their way toward the lifts. Evangeline’s heart thudded against her ribs, her mind racing as she tried not to think about the possibility that they were too late.

Please still be here, she thought, clutching the strap of her bag tightly. The Records Department would already be winding down for the day. If they missed Genevieve now, the chance to find the Muldoons might slip through their fingers, and the thought of waiting even one more day was unbearable.

Beside her, Sebastian walked with his usual composed stride, his wand held loosely in one hand. “You alright?” he asked, his voice breaking through her spiraling thoughts.

She glanced at him, her expression tight. “I’m fine,” she replied shortly, her nerves betraying her. “I just… we can’t miss her, Sebastian. If she’s already gone—”

“We won’t,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “And if we do, we’ll find another way. Relax, Evie. We’ve got this.”

His confidence grounded her, if only slightly, as they stepped into the lift. The ride felt interminable, each ding of the glowing numbers above the door ratcheting up Evangeline's tension. She fidgeted with the strap of her bag, her thoughts bouncing between the instructions she hoped to get from Genevieve and the potential disaster that awaited them at the Muldoon estate.

When the lift doors finally slid open, Evangeline was the first to step out, her sharp gaze sweeping the hallway ahead. The Records Department was tucked at the end of the corridor, its wide double doors propped open, and she could see faint movement inside.

“Come on,” she said, quickening her pace.

Sebastian followed close behind, his presence a steadying force as they entered the department. The room was dimly lit, most of the desks already cleared for the day, and only a handful of witches and wizards remained, finishing their tasks in silence.

Her eyes scanned the space until they landed on a familiar figure near the back: Genevieve Thorn, her sharp profile illuminated by the glow of a magical lamp. She was meticulously packing a briefcase, her movements efficient and precise as always. Relief flooded Evangeline, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“There,” she whispered, nodding toward Genevieve.

“Just in time,” Sebastian murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Evangeline didn’t wait for him to catch up. She strode across the room, her boots clicking against the floor, her pulse quickening as she approached Genevieve.

“Genevieve? Genevieve Thorn?” she called, her voice firm but not loud enough to disturb the others.

The woman looked up sharply, her gray eyes narrowing in confusion as they landed on Evangeline. “...Miss Sterling?” she said, her tone clipped and cautious. “What are you doing here?”

Evangeline stopped at the edge of the desk, gripping the strap of her bag to steady herself. “I need your help,” she said, her voice resolute. “It’s about the Muldoons.”

Genevieve’s expression flickered, her sharp features tightening with something that might have been apprehension. “The Muldoons?” she repeated slowly, her gaze darting to Sebastian and back.

“Yes,” Evangeline said, leaning slightly forward. “I need to know how to get to their estate.”

Genevieve’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she straightened her posture, her hands hovering protectively over the briefcase. “...That’s not information I can just hand out, Miss Sterling. The Muldoons are a private family, and they don’t take kindly to uninvited guests.”

Evangeline’s chest tightened, but she didn’t back down. “But I am a Muldoon. And this isn’t just about curiosity,” she said, her voice steady but urgent. “Someone has been sending me threats—letters—and I need to put a stop to them. Please, Genevieve. You’re the only one who can help me.”

Genevieve’s sharp gaze flicked to Sebastian again, her wariness deepening. “And... who is this?”

“Sebastian Sallow,” he said smoothly, stepping forward with an easy confidence that belied the tension in the room. "From the Auror Division."

"And your relation to Miss Sterling is…?"

Sebastian’s smirk widened slightly, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned casually on the desk. “I’m her boyfriend,” he said smoothly, his tone light but carrying an edge of confidence. “And backup, of course. Can’t let her storm off into danger alone, can I?”

Genevieve’s gaze flicked back to Evangeline, her expression unreadable. “What exactly do you plan to do if the Muldoons are behind these threats you speak of?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Evangeline responded simply. “So tell me where to find them. I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.”

For a moment, Genevieve said nothing, her gaze flicking between the two of them. Then she sighed, her stern demeanor softening slightly. “The Muldoons are not a family you approach lightly, Miss Sterling. Even as one of their own, you’ll be met with suspicion at best, hostility at worst.”

“I don’t care how hostile they are,” Evangeline said firmly. “If they’re responsible for the threats, I need to confront them. And if they aren’t, then I need to know that too. Sitting around doing nothing isn’t an option.”

Genevieve sighed deeply, rubbing her temple as though Evangeline had given her a headache. “I must be mad to even consider this,” she muttered before opening her briefcase and pulling out a worn leather-bound notebook.

She flipped through the pages, muttering to herself as she skimmed the notes. Finally, she stopped on a page filled with hastily scrawled diagrams and coordinates. “The estate is in Ireland,” she began, her voice brisk. “Hidden deep within the Wicklow Mountains. It’s protected by layers of enchantments designed to keep out unwanted visitors—Muggles, wizards, it doesn’t matter. The wards are indiscriminate.”

Sebastian leaned forward, his expression calm but resolute. “Just give us the coordinates,” he said evenly. “Whatever wards they’ve got, we’ll deal with them.”

Genevieve studied them both for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a resigned sigh, she grabbed a blank piece of parchment and began jotting down the coordinates, her quill scratching against the page.

"But just so we’re clear, if anyone asks, this conversation never happened. I’ve broken approximately fifty protocols doing this for you, Miss Sterling," She fixed Evangeline with a pointed glance. "Don’t make me regret this.”

Evangeline nodded, tucking the parchment carefully into her bag. “Understood. I’ll make sure no one finds out. Thank you again.”

Genevieve sighed, her sharp gray eyes softening slightly. “Just… be careful. Now go, before I change my mind and hex you both out of here.”

Quickly thanking Genevieve once more, Evangeline turned toward the door, Sebastian falling into step beside her. The tension between them was palpable as they made their way back through the Ministry’s dim corridors. When they reached the atrium, Sebastian reached out, catching her hand in his.

As they walked, Evangeline studied the hastily scrawled coordinates. The jagged script mapped out a location deep in the Wicklow Mountains of Ireland, but the details raised a troubling question.

“How are we supposed to get there?” she murmured, mostly to herself. “We can’t Apparate to a place we’ve never been, and I doubt the Floo Network connects to a hidden estate.”

Sebastian, holding her hand, glanced over her shoulder at the parchment. “I’ve got an idea,” he said casually, though there was a spark of mischief in his tone.

She folded the parchment carefully and slipped it into her bag, crossing her arms as she gave him a pointed look. “Alright, Sallow. Let’s hear it.”

“We Apparate as close as we can to the general area,” he explained. “And then we travel the rest of the way on broomstick."

Evangeline frowned, the tension in her chest not entirely easing. "Where can we possibly apparate to that's anywhere close by? And what if we accidentally fly straight into one of their wards?"

Sebastian tilted his head, his grin softening into something more reassuring. “Evie, it’s not like we’re flying blind. We have the coordinates. We'll land far enough away to avoid any wards."

Evangeline sighed. “You still haven’t answered my other question though,” she pressed. “We need a specific location to Apparate to, one we can clearly visualize. Ireland isn’t exactly around the corner, and you know how dangerous it is to travel over that kind of distance.”

Sebastian smirked, clearly unfazed by her skepticism. "Details, details. We'll sort that out after." He tugged on her hand, leading her toward a corridor branching off from the main room.

“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice as she hurried to keep up with his long strides.

“To the Auror Division,” he replied nonchalantly.

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Where else are we going to procure broomsticks at this time of night?" Sebastian countered as they rounded a corner.

Evangeline groaned, the corners of her mouth twitching despite herself. “Sebastian, I don’t think ‘procure’ is the right word for what you’re doing.”

He threw her a devilish grin over his shoulder. "Evie, I work there. They’re my broomsticks. Well, technically, they’re the Ministry’s broomsticks, but let’s not get hung up on details.”

Her lips twitched despite herself. “You mean to tell me that you’re allowed to requisition Ministry equipment for personal use?”

Sebastian shrugged, his grin widening. “Not exactly. But considering this is an off-the-books mission to uncover death threats sent to a young woman—who also happens to be the woman I’m madly in love with—I think we can make an exception.”

Evangeline stumbled slightly, her face heating at the casual way he’d said it. “Sebastian,” she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. “You can’t just—”

“ I meant what I said,” he interrupted, coming to a stop in front of a heavy wooden door marked Auror Division—Authorized Personnel Only.

Before she could respond, he'd unlocked the door, ushering her inside. Desks were still scattered with case files and enchanted quills, but the space was empty at this hour.

Sebastian strode confidently toward a set of storage lockers along the far wall, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking one of the compartments.

Evangeline crossed her arms, watching as he retrieved two sleek broomsticks, their polished handles glinting faintly in the low light. He tossed one over his shoulder and carried the other in his free hand as he returned to her side.

“Ta-da,” he said, presenting the broomsticks with a flourish. “Top-of-the-line Ministry brooms. Fast, durable, and enchantment-resistant. Perfect for a little adventure in the Irish countryside.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And if someone notices they’re missing?”

“They won’t. Besides, it’s for a good cause. And I’ll bring them back in one piece.... probably," he teased, handing her one of the broomsticks. “Now, are you ready to go storm the Muldoon estate?”

Evangeline took the broom, her fingers tightening around the smooth handle as she met his gaze. Despite the absurdity of the situation, she felt a flicker of confidence, bolstered by his unwavering determination.

“Let’s do it,” she said, her voice firm.

Sebastian’s grin softened into something warmer as he reached for her free hand, giving it a brief squeeze. “That’s my girl.”

Her heart skipped at the words, but she didn’t let herself dwell on them. Together, they turned and left the Auror Division, their footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors as they made their way back toward the atrium. The anticipation of what lay ahead buzzed in the air between them, both exhilarating and daunting.

The only question left was where they'd apparate to. Evangeline sighed, mulling it over. She opened her mouth to ask Sebastian for his thoughts, but the words caught in her throat.

An idea, unbidden but suddenly clear, swept over her. She could visualize a place—a place she knew in detail, down to the creaking floorboards and the ivy crawling up its crumbling walls.

St. Brigid’s House.

The memory of the weather-worn orphanage on the Irish coast surfaced, vivid and bittersweet. She could still see its stone facade, battered by the salt-laden wind, the overgrown garden that no one had tended in years, and the narrow gravel path leading to the wooden front door. It had been her home before Hogwarts, a secluded corner of the world, tucked away where few cared to look.

“I know where we can go,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the cool night air. "Where we can apparate."

Sebastian stopped, turning to her with a raised eyebrow. “Oh? Where?”

“St. Brigid’s House,” she replied, her tone steady but tinged with a quiet weight. “The orphanage where I grew up. I know it well enough to get us there safely.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed, his teasing smirk slipping into a more serious expression. “Are you sure? We can't afford to be seen by any muggles."

Evangeline nodded, her grip on the strap of her bag tightening slightly. “There’s an old mill house on the property, just beyond the orphanage grounds. It’s been abandoned for decades—no one will see us there., especially not with the cover of night on our side.”

Sebastian held her gaze for a moment longer before nodding, his expression softening. “Alright. If you’re sure, let’s do it.”

Drawing her wand, Evangeline tightened her grip on his hand. “Hold on."

Closing her eyes, she focused on the image of the mill house—the jagged stone walls overrun with moss, the uneven ground littered with wildflowers, and the faint smell of damp earth and salt.

With a sharp twist, the air around them compressed, the pull of apparition wrenching them from the Ministry and into the ether. The sensation was familiar yet unsettling, a rush of wind and pressure that seemed to stretch eternity into seconds.

When the world righted itself, they landed with a soft pop on uneven ground. Evangeline opened her eyes, and they stood inside the weathered structure, its stone walls half-collapsed and overrun with ivy. Moonlight spilled through the missing roof, illuminating the interior in a faint, silvery glow.

Sebastian released her hand, his gaze sweeping the area with quiet curiosity. “I see what you mean about it being abandoned,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Evangeline barely registered Sebastian’s words as her gaze shifted, drawn toward the orphanage in the distance.

St. Brigid’s House stood quiet and imposing under the moonlight, its weathered stone walls illuminated by the faint glow of lights from within the windows. Her breath hitched at the sight, a strange, bittersweet ache blooming in her chest.

She hadn’t thought of this place for a long time—at least, not like this, not with the weight of all the memories pressing down on her. She could still hear the creak of the floorboards, the way the wind howled through the cracks in the old wooden door, the faint laughter of children echoing in the halls. And yet, despite the faint glow from its windows, it still felt as lonely as ever.

Sebastian, noticing her silence, followed her gaze. His brow furrowed as he studied the building, its silhouette stark against the darkened sky.

He stepped closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently against him. She stiffened slightly at first, caught off guard, but then relaxed into his warmth, her head resting lightly against his chest.

"It must be strange... being back here," He murmured against her hair.

Evangeline nodded faintly. "It feels… frozen in time. Like nothing’s changed, but everything’s different.”

Sebastian tightened his arm around her, his voice quiet but steady. "I... can’t imagine what it must have been like growing up here."

She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Lonely. That’s the best word for it. The other kids came and went, but I… I stayed. For years. Always hoping, always waiting, but no one ever came for me."

Her voice wavered, the ache in her chest blooming sharper as she spoke the words aloud. "I hated it here, Sebastian. I hated how small and forgotten it made me feel. But it was all I had. For a long time, it was the only place I belonged."

Sebastian glanced back at the orphanage, its quiet, stoic presence casting a shadow that seemed to stretch far beyond its walls, his brow furrowing. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"As long as I'm around, you'll never be alone again, Evangeline."

She closed her eyes, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a blanket, the tension in her chest easing just enough to allow her to breathe deeply again. She straightened her shoulders.

"Come on," she murmured against his chest. "The Muldoon estate isn’t going to find itself."

Sebastian broke their embrace gently, his hand sliding down her arm as he stepped back, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment. “Alright, Sterling,” he said softly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Lead the way.”

They mounted their brooms, the soft rustle of leaves and the faint roar of distant waves filling the silence around them. With a shared glance, they kicked off, rising smoothly into the night sky. The wind whipped around them as they soared higher, the vast expanse of stars stretching endlessly above.

It was exhilarating, but Evangeline’s stomach churned as a realization hit her like a Bludger. She cursed softly under her breath, gripping the broomstick tighter.

“What is it?” Sebastian called over the rush of the wind, his broom gliding effortlessly beside hers.

Evangeline winced. “I didn’t think about how we’re supposed to navigate to the coordinates,” she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t have a map, and I didn’t plan for—”

“Relax,” Sebastian interrupted, his tone calm and reassuring. “We’ve got the stars.”

She blinked at him. “...The stars?”

He nodded, already pulling the parchment with the coordinates from her bag. “It’s simple. We use the constellations to match the location. I’ll guide us.”

Evangeline stared at him, her brow furrowing in surprise. “Since when do you know how to navigate by the stars? You dropped Astronomy after fifth year.”

Sebastian grinned. “Auror training. They make sure you’re prepared for… well, pretty much anything. Including chasing dark wizards across remote wilderness.”

Evangeline watched as he glanced between the parchment and the sky, his brow furrowed in concentration. The moonlight cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp curve of his jaw and the determined set of his mouth.

Evangeline’s chest tightened unexpectedly. She knew she should be focused—on the Muldoons, the coordinates, the looming danger—but her thoughts kept slipping. There was something about the way Sebastian carried himself, so steady and sure, his every movement purposeful. He was so good to her, always in her corner, and he looked so effortlessly captivating just being himself—it left her breathless.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing his face. He turned toward her, startled, and before he could say anything, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Sebastian froze for a moment, the wind tugging at his hair as he stared at her in stunned silence. Then, a slow, crooked grin spread across his face.

“Well, that’s one way to motivate a navigator,” he teased, his tone light but carrying a warmth that made her chest flutter.

Evangeline let out a soft laugh, her cheeks warming as she pulled back slightly. “You’ve earned it,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way her heart raced. “After all, I need you to get us there in one piece.”

Sebastian’s grin widened, his dark eyes glinting with playful affection. “With rewards like that, I’ll make sure we don’t even hit a stray gust of wind.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Just focus on the stars, Sallow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he turned his attention back to the parchment and the glittering constellations above. His brow furrowed slightly as he matched the coordinates to their celestial markers.

Evangeline adjusted her grip on the broomstick and focused on the horizon. “What’s the verdict? Do you have us pointed in the right direction?”

Sebastian glanced at her, his smirk returning. “Always. Follow me.”

He angled his broom and surged ahead, the starlit sky stretching before them. Evangeline followed, the cool wind cutting through her hair as they flew in tandem.

They flew in companionable silence, the rhythmic rush of air and the occasional call of a distant owl the only sounds to break the quiet. It was peaceful in a way Evangeline hadn’t anticipated, the tension ebbing slightly as they soared through the night.

As time passed, she noticed a subtle shift in the landscape. The rolling fields grew steeper, their shadows deepening as jagged cliffs and dense woods replaced the open expanses. Mountains began to rise in the distance, their silhouettes stark against the starry backdrop.

Her grip on the broom tightened slightly, anticipation coiling in her chest. They were getting close—she could feel it.

Sebastian glanced back at her briefly, his silhouette outlined by the faint glow of moonlight. He gestured downward, and she nodded, adjusting her angle as he began to lead them into a gradual descent.

The air grew cooler as they approached the ground, the scent of damp earth and pine filling her senses. Sebastian guided them with precision, weaving through the thickening trees and avoiding rocky outcroppings with ease. He landed smoothly in a small clearing tucked between towering evergreens, the soft crunch of grass beneath his feet the only sound to mark their arrival.

Evangeline followed. She dismounted and steadied her broom, her eyes flicking to Sebastian as he folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket

"So," he began, leaning his broomstick up against a tree. "Anymore of those rewards? I did get us here safe and sound."

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “You really don’t miss an opportunity, do you?”

Sebastian leaned casually against his broomstick, his grin widening. “Life’s too short to pass them up.”

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest betrayed her attempt to act unimpressed. “Let’s make sure we’re in one piece after this before you start demanding any more rewards.”

Sebastian chuckled, pushing off the broomstick and stepping closer. “Fair enough. But I’m keeping a tally.”

“Of course you are,” Evangeline replied dryly, though the affection in her tone softened the words.

She turned her attention to the clearing, her gaze sweeping over the darkened woods surrounding them. The faint hum of magic in the air was unmistakable now, a subtle vibration that prickled at her senses. They were close. She pulled her wand from its holster as her focus sharpened.

Sebastian shifted his stance and drew his wand as well. His earlier playfulness slipped into something more serious as he scanned the area. “Feel that?” he asked quietly.

Evangeline nodded, her voice low. “We’re near their wards."

“Any chance we can just knock politely and hope they’re in a good mood?”

Evangeline gave him a sidelong glance. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

He sighed, his wand steady in his hand. “Well there's only one way to find out. Let’s see if the Muldoons are feeling hospitable tonight.”

Evangeline stepped forward, her wand at the ready, the faint hum of magic growing stronger with each step. The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with an almost tangible energy. It wasn’t oppressive, but it was undeniably there—a constant buzz that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

Sebastian followed close behind, his footsteps light but deliberate, his eyes scanning their surroundings. The trees around them grew denser, their twisted branches forming a canopy that blocked out much of the starlight. Shadows danced in the faint moonlight that filtered through, casting strange shapes on the ground.

Evangeline’s pace slowed as the magic in the air became sharper, more defined. She could feel it now, like invisible threads pulling at her senses. She held up a hand, signaling for Sebastian to stop.

“There,” she whispered, pointing ahead.

Before them, a faint shimmer rippled through the air like heatwaves on a summer’s day. The ward was nearly invisible, blending seamlessly into the night, but up close, the distortion of light was unmistakable.

Sebastian tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he studied the shimmering boundary. “Subtle,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

Evangeline took a cautious step closer, her wand moving in slow, deliberate arcs as she studied the enchantments. The air grew cooler, the magic almost whispering at the edges of her consciousness. The ward was layered—she could feel the complexity of the spells interwoven, each one enhancing the next.

“What do you think?” Sebastian asked, his voice low.

Evangeline frowned, focusing on the faint shimmer. “This outer ward is reactive. It seems to... adapt based on whoever approaches it—probably tailored to the person’s intent or identity.”

Sebastian stepped closer, his wand at his side, though his posture remained tense. “So what does that mean for us? Can you get through?”

Evangeline chewed the inside of her cheek, her mind racing. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if it’s tied to identity… maybe having Muldoon blood will let me pass without triggering anything.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical but curious. “And me?"

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Evangeline replied, turning her attention back to the ward. She hesitated, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. If she guessed wrong, the ward could do anything from alerting the Muldoons to locking them out—or worse.

A thought struck her, and she glanced back at Sebastian. “Maybe if we’re in contact, the ward will recognize us both as safe. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth trying.”

Sebastian’s lips quirked in a faint grin. “So you’re saying you want to hold my hand?”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, but without hesitation, Sebastian reached out, his larger hand enveloping hers in a firm yet reassuring grip.

“...Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and with a deep breath, Evangeline stepped forward, her wand steady as she moved closer to the shimmering boundary. The hum of magic grew louder, a low vibration that thrummed in her ears. She half-expected the ward to reject her the moment she approached, but instead, it shifted. The ripple of light stilled, the tension in the air loosening slightly.

Encouraged, she tightened her grip on Sebastian’s hand and took another step. The ward seemed to part for her, the shimmering light thinning and folding back like a curtain drawn aside. Her heart leapt in relief, but she didn’t know if Sebastian would pass through as easily.

She tugged him gently forward, holding her breath as he crossed the threshold with her. For a moment, the ward resisted, the shimmering barrier rippling around his figure. But then it stilled, the magic softening and retreating as if recognizing their shared intent.

Sebastian exhaled, his eyes widening slightly as he looked back at the now-quiet ward behind them. “Well, that was... smoother than I expected.”

Evangeline’s shoulders sagged in relief, though she quickly straightened, her focus returning to the task at hand. “Let’s not get too comfortable. There’s no telling what else they’ve set up between here and the estate.”

As they pressed forward, the magic in the air shifted again, and a thick fog began to roll in around them. At first, it was subtle—a faint mist curling at their feet—but within moments, it grew dense and impenetrable, swallowing the trees and the path ahead. The faint glow of the stars overhead vanished, leaving them in a dark and oppressive void.

Evangeline slowed, her free hand gripping her wand tightly as she peered into the fog. “This isn’t natural,” she murmured, her voice barely carrying in the eerie stillness.

Sebastian’s hand tightened around hers, his own wand held ready in his other hand. “Another ward,” he said grimly, his voice low. “Probably designed to disorient. Keep intruders wandering in circles until they give up or…” His words trailed off, leaving the unspoken possibilities hanging in the air.

“Or worse,” Evangeline finished quietly.

Sebastian raised his wand, the tip flaring to life with a soft glow. “Lumos.”

The light flickered weakly, sputtered, and then died, swallowed whole by the fog. He frowned, trying again with the same result.

“Of course,” he muttered under his breath.

Evangeline bit her lip, her pulse quickening as she scanned their surroundings. The fog was thick, almost tactile, curling around them in silent, shifting waves. She reached out experimentally with her wand, muttering a diagnostic spell, but the magic fizzled out before it could take shape.

She frowned. "It's... it’s like the ward was designed to counter traditional spellcasting."

Sebastian’s thumb brushed against the back of her hand, a small, grounding gesture. “Well, you’re the expert here, Miss Cursebreaker,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “What do you think? Is there something you can do—any magic stronger than what the ward can suppress?”

She frowned, her mind darting between possibilities. “Stronger… That’s the issue. Anything traditional or conventional won’t work.”

“Then why not use something unconventional?” Sebastian suggested casually.

Evangeline blinked. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head, the furrow of his eyebrows visible even in the gloom. “You know what I mean. Ancient magic. Hell, you’ve flattened entire camps of poachers with it. Why not a little fog?”

Evangeline hesitated, the weight of his suggestion settling over her. “I... maybe you're right."

Closing her eyes, Evangeline focused inward, seeking the familiar spark of ancient magic buried deep within her. It stirred in response, a warm, humming pulse that spread through her veins like liquid light. She exhaled slowly, raising her hand and willing the magic to rise.

The air around her shimmered faintly, a soft glow emanating from her skin. The fog reacted immediately, pulling back in swirling tendrils as if repelled by the energy. Encouraged, Evangeline pushed harder, channeling the magic outward in a slow, deliberate wave.

The fog dissipated further, peeling away in curling wisps until the path ahead became clear. Tall trees framed the trail, their gnarled branches twisting skyward, and in the distance, a faint glow marked the edges of another barrier.

She opened her eyes. The oppressive silence had lifted, replaced by the rustle of leaves in a gentle breeze. The clarity felt like a breath of fresh air.

Sebastian let out a low whistle, his gaze sweeping over the now-visible path. “You’ve outdone yourself, Evie."

Evangeline turned to him, her breath still evening out. “I wouldn’t have thought of it if you hadn’t said something. You’re brilliant, you know that?”

Sebastian’s grin widened. “I’ll add it to my list,” he added, leaning in slightly, “Since I believe this earns me another reward.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re really not going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he replied smoothly, his tone light but his expression warm. “A man’s got to take credit where it’s due.”

She shook her head, the warmth in her chest spreading. "Fine. You're right, you deserve it. Now come on, I think there's only one ward left to go."

They pressed forward, and the next barrier came into clear view. Unlike the shimmering fog, this ward was visible—an intricate lattice of golden threads woven tightly together; it stretched high above them, reaching into the treetops and forming a dome-like barrier.

Sebastian slowed to a stop beside her, his gaze fixed on the glowing threads. “This one looks... less welcoming,” he muttered, his grip tightening slightly on his wand.

Evangeline nodded, studying the barrier intently. The magic here was different—sharper, more deliberate. It didn’t hum like the fog had; it thrummed, the vibrations deep and commanding.

Her wand moved in slow, precise motions as she examined the magic. "It’s not reactive like the first one,” she said, tilting her head. “This feels like a test. A puzzle.”

Sebastian watched her work, his expression thoughtful. “Alright, so what do we do? Pick the right thread to pull? Cut the wrong one and we get blown to bits?”

Evangeline nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Something like that,” she murmured, her wand tracing slow arcs through the air as she examined the glowing lattice. “But it’s not about pulling the threads. We need to find the weak point—a flaw in the weave. All wards have one. You just have to know where to look.”

Sebastian tilted his head, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “So, this is what they’re teaching you at the Ministry, huh? Spending your days unraveling magical traps?”

She shot him a quick look, one corner of her mouth twitching upward despite the tension. “If only it were that exciting. Half the time, it’s combing through records and old manuscripts, trying to figure out why some ancient wizard decided to curse their favorite cauldron.”

"Almost as exciting as all the case reports I get to read in the Auror Division," he quipped, his smirk widening.

Evangeline smirked, her gaze flicking toward Sebastian. “One day, they’ll let us do the fun stuff. Until then, we’ll just have to make our own adventures.” She paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you glad I let you come along for this one?”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning casually on his wand. “Oh, absolutely. Nothing like a midnight stroll through cursed woods with you to keep things interesting.”

She chuckled, her focus shifting back to the golden lattice as she studied its intricate weave. Her wand moved in slow, deliberate arcs, tracing the faint pulses of magic that radiated from the barrier. The threads thrummed softly, their vibrations resonating in her chest as she walked.

“It’s woven so tightly,” she murmured after a moment, half to herself. “The threads are layered, overlapping..."

Sebastian stepped closer, his brow furrowed. “Can you still break through it?”

Evangeline nodded, her lips pressing into a determined line. “I just need to find the right angle..."

She continued her circuit around the barrier, her wand tip glowing faintly as she used a diagnostic spell. The golden threads rippled in response, their light dimming briefly before returning to their steady glow. Sebastian followed silently, his eyes scanning the forest around them as she worked.

After a few minutes, Evangeline stopped, her gaze locking onto a section of the lattice where the threads seemed to shimmer unevenly. She tilted her head, her wand moving in small, precise circles as she examined the anomaly.

“Here,” she said, tilting her head to give Sebastian a better view. “Do you see how the light flickers slightly, like it’s out of sync with the rest of the ward?”

Sebastian squinted, leaning closer, but the golden threads looked as impenetrable as ever to him. “Honestly? No. It all looks the same to me.”

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “It’s subtle—really subtle. The imbalance is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. The magic here isn’t flowing as smoothly as it should. That’s the weak point.”

Sebastian straightened, his expression a mix of admiration and disbelief. “I’d never have spotted that in a million years. Good thing I’m not a cursebreaker.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a small smile. “You could do anything you want, Sebastian. You’d just need to practice—like I’ve been doing for months.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “That’s sweet of you to say, Evie, but I think I’ll leave the ancient magical puzzles to you. I’ll stick with chasing down dark wizards.”

“Suit yourself,” she teased, her tone light despite the tension in the air. Turning her attention back to the lattice, she studied it for another moment before speaking again. “I think we need to apply force—immense force—right here at this spot. The ward’s designed to absorb energy across its entire structure, but if we focus everything on the weak point, it’ll collapse.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “When you say ‘immense force,’ are we talking spellwork or…?”

Evangeline gave him a pointed look. “We’re not battering it with a stick, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back against his wand. “Just checking.”

She hummed, her tone shifting to something more serious. "I think you need to cast something like Bombarda or Expulso at it."

"...Me?"

Evangeline nodded, tilting her head toward the weak point in the ward. “Yes, you. You’ve always been better at explosive charms and curses than I am; they pack twice the punch mine do.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Evangeline held up a hand, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. “Before you even think about arguing, let me make one thing clear—I’d still wipe the floor with you in a duel.”

Sebastian’s jaw dropped slightly, and he looked at her, mock-offended. “Evie—”

“But,” she continued, her tone matter-of-fact, “I know your strengths, and raw destructive power is one of them.”

Sebastian tilted his head, considering her words, and his grin softened into something warmer. “You know, I think that’s the nicest backhanded compliment I’ve ever received.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. “Call it what you want, but we only have one shot to get this right. If you don’t focus everything on that weak point, the ward will absorb it, and we’ll have announced our arrival to everyone on the estate."

Sebastian’s gaze flicked to the lattice, his playful demeanor giving way to a more serious expression. He nodded, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted his grip on his wand. “Alright. Expulso it is. But you'll need to show me exactly where it needs to land, Evie. I can't see the weak spot myself."

Evangeline nodded, stepping forward and raising her wand. She murmured a quick incantation, and a faint, glowing circle appeared around the weak point. The golden threads shimmered faintly as the marker charm took hold, clearly outlining the precise spot.

“There,” she said, stepping back and lowering her wand. “You can’t miss it now. Just focus everything you’ve got right in the center of that circle.”

Sebastian studied the glowing marker, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Got it,” he said, adjusting his stance as he raised his wand. He glanced over at her. “Alright. Ready?”

“Ready,” she replied, her voice steady.

Sebastian nodded, his dark eyes narrowing on the glowing marker.

“Expulso!”

The spell erupted from his wand, a brilliant streak of blue light tearing through the air and colliding with the ward. The impact was instantaneous—light flared, brighter than the sun, as the lattice trembled and groaned under the force. For a moment, it seemed to hold, the lattice rippling and distorting like a stretched web.

Then, with a deafening crack, the barrier shattered. The golden threads disintegrated in a cascade of sparks, the magical energy dissipating into the air. The ground beneath their feet trembled slightly, and a gust of warm air rushed past them, ruffling their hair.

Evangeline stepped forward cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest as she surveyed the path ahead. The ward was gone, leaving nothing but faint wisps of residual magic hanging in the air.

Sebastian let out a slow breath, lowering his wand. He turned to her, his smirk returning in full force. “And that, dear Evangeline, is how it’s done.”

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head as the tension eased from her shoulders. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

“Not bad?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I just dismantled an ancient ward with a single spell, and all I get is ‘not bad’?”

Evangeline shrugged, though the warmth in her smile betrayed her amusement. “Alright, fine. You did great. Now let’s see what other surprises the Muldoons have waiting for us.”

Sebastian fell into step beside Evangeline as they continued forward.

“Alright, but I think it’s only fair to add another reward to my tally after that,” Sebastian pressed, his tone light and teasing,

Evangeline glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, do you now?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his grin wide. “At this rate, you’ll owe me your first born child, Evie.”

Evangeline’s steps faltered at Sebastian’s quip, her breath hitching in her chest. It was a joke—of course it was—but it wasn’t really. Not when he’d been making comments like that more and more lately. In fact, Sebastian spoke about their future together as if it were an inevitability, a thought that made Evangeline weak in the knees.

Her mind betrayed her then, conjuring an image she hadn’t let herself truly consider before: a child with Sebastian’s mischievous grin, his unruly dark hair, and her hazel eyes. The thought hit her like a bolt of lightning, equal parts warmth and panic flooding her chest.

Her cheeks flushed hot, and she quickly forced herself to shake it off. Not the time, Evie. Focus.

Sebastian must have noticed her hesitation because he slowed, glancing at her with a curious tilt of his head. “What’s that look for? Did I say something scandalous?”

Evangeline cleared her throat, her voice coming out sharper than she intended. “You’re always saying something scandalous. Now, come on—we’ve got an estate to infiltrate, remember?”

Sebastian chuckled, falling back into step beside her. “Fine, fine. But I’m adding that reaction to my tally, too.”

Evangeline didn’t respond, her mind still racing. She gripped her wand tighter, forcing herself to focus on the darkened path ahead. There was no room for distractions now. They were stepping into the unknown, and the stakes were too high to let her thoughts wander. For now, she had to face the Muldoons—and whatever else lay ahead—with her head held high and her heart steady.

As they walked, the trees around them finally began to thin, their gnarled branches giving way to an open expanse of land. In the distance, a dark silhouette rose against the starry sky.

The Muldoon Manor.

The structure loomed, its tall, angular silhouette both imposing and elegant. The stone walls were dark, ivy creeping up the sides and clinging to the windows like skeletal fingers. A wrought-iron gate marked the entrance to the grounds, flanked by stone pillars etched with runes that glowed faintly in the darkness.

For the first time that night, a flicker of fear, real fear, wound its way into Evangeline’s chest.

Her steps slowed, uncertainty creeping into her mind. Anne’s voice echoed in her ears, the warnings she’d given before they left Feldcroft—No reckless heroics, Evie. Just come back. Both of you. Ominis’s sharp tone followed, laden with frustration and concern: If you don’t come back in one piece—

She clenched her jaw, trying to push the voices away. But the truth was undeniable: she had no idea what waited beyond that gate. The Muldoons were infamous for their secrecy, their power, their ruthlessness. Every step closer felt like venturing further into a trap she wasn’t sure she could escape.

Am I in over my head? The thought came unbidden, a small crack in her resolve. Her grip on her wand tightened. She couldn’t afford hesitation, not now. She’d come this far, and she had to see this through. The threats, the letters—she needed to put an end to it.

Evangeline’s gaze shifted to Sebastian as they neared the wrought-iron gates.

The playful glint in his eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with a sharp, lethal focus that made her chest tighten—and not entirely from fear. The Sebastian beside her now wasn’t the one who had just been teasing her about rewards and keeping tally; this was the Auror-in-training, every inch the professional. And damn if that wasn’t distracting.

Evangeline forced herself to focus, tamping down the unbidden rush of admiration that threatened to overtake her. This wasn’t the time to marvel at the way he moved with such confidence, the quiet authority in his voice, or the way he looked so effortlessly composed even under pressure. They had a mission to complete, and her attraction to him could wait.

In the past, they’d gotten into trouble together more times than Evangeline could count—reckless, impulsive, and daring. She’d taken down Ranrok and his rebellion, wielded ancient magic against impossible odds. But back then, they’d been kids. They’d acted on instinct, driven by desperation and adrenaline.

Now? Now, things were different. In the months since they’d left Hogwarts, Sebastian had been training, honing his skills, becoming someone who could handle situations like this with precision and expertise.

Her pride in him swelled, mingling with the faint ache of her own inadequacy. This wasn’t her world anymore—not like it was his. She’d trained for a different kind of challenge, studied curses and wards, ancient magic and artifacts. But tactical strategy? Conflict resolution? That was Sebastian’s domain.

And it wasn’t just impressive—it was infuriatingly attractive. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to breathe evenly. Focus. You can melt over him later.

She slowed to a stop just a few paces from the gate and reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. She cleared her throat. “Um. Sebastian?”

He turned to her, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “What is it?”

She met his gaze. “You’re the one with the training now. Tell me how we’re going to do this.”

For a moment, surprise flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by something softer. His features relaxed just enough to remind her that he was still Sebastian—her Sebastian—beneath the sharp edges of his Auror focus.

“They don’t know we’re here yet,” he said quietly, his tone calm but firm. “If they did, someone—or something—would’ve come for us already. Those wards weren’t just for show. They clearly don’t want visitors, which means we have to assume hostility until proven otherwise.”

Evangeline nodded, her grip tightening on her wand. “So what’s the plan?”

Sebastian’s eyes flicked back to the gate and then to the surrounding grounds, calculating. “We sneak our way to the front door,” he said decisively. “If we can get inside without alerting anyone, we’ll have the advantage. They won’t be expecting us, and that element of surprise might give us the edge we need.”

Evangeline glanced toward the manor, its dark silhouette looming like a sleeping giant. “And once we’re inside?”

Sebastian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable. “We take it one step at a time. Find whoever’s in charge—or whoever’s been sending those letters—and handle it.”

The simplicity of his words belied the weight of the task ahead, but Evangeline trusted him.

“Alright,” she said, her voice steady despite the nerves twisting in her chest. “Lead the way.”

Sebastian nodded once, his confidence reassuring. He moved to the gate, his movements quiet and deliberate, and gestured for her to follow. With a quick spell, he unlocked the wrought-iron gates, the faint click almost imperceptible in the still night.

They slipped onto the estate grounds, the cool grass damp beneath their feet. The air felt heavier here, charged with the residual magic of the wards they’d dismantled. Evangeline stayed close to Sebastian, her wand at the ready, her senses heightened as they moved through the shadows.

Sebastian came to a stop near the base of the manor’s stone steps, his hand raised to signal her to pause.

“The door might be warded too,” he said. “Let me check it first. If it’s clear, we’ll go in.”

Evangeline nodded, watching as he approached the heavy wooden door with practiced precision. His wand moved in slow, deliberate arcs, his focus unshakable. She felt a swell of pride as she watched him work, the boy she’d grown up with transformed into someone so capable, so sure of himself.

After a few tense moments, Sebastian straightened, stepping back from the door. “It’s clear,” he said softly. “No traps, no alarms. Let’s move.”

The door creaked faintly as Sebastian pushed it open, revealing the interior of the Muldoon manor. Evangeline stepped inside behind Sebastian, her wand gripped tightly in her hand, her heart pounding in her chest. But as her eyes adjusted to the light, what she saw stopped her in her tracks.

The entryway was breathtaking. High vaulted ceilings loomed above them, adorned with intricate carvings of stars and constellations that shimmered faintly in the low light of enchanted chandeliers. The walls were lined with rich mahogany paneling, accented by tapestries depicting scenes of lush Irish landscapes and ancient magical rituals. Plush rugs covered the polished stone floors, and the faint scent of cedar and firewood hung in the air.

It was opulent, yes, but not in the cold, uninviting way she had expected. There was a warmth to it—a sense of history and care, as though the house was not merely a monument to the Muldoons’ wealth and power, but a home.

Evangeline blinked, momentarily disarmed. This wasn’t what she’d imagined at all.

The faint sound of conversation drifted toward them, soft and indistinct, but unmistakably human. Evangeline stiffened, her senses sharpening as she exchanged a glance with Sebastian.

“That way,” he mouthed, nodding toward an arched doorway on their left.

Evangeline nodded as they moved silently across the entryway. The closer they got, the clearer the voices became—a low hum of casual conversation, punctuated by the occasional laugh.

She frowned, her mind racing. This wasn’t the tense, guarded atmosphere she’d expected. Whoever was in the sitting room wasn’t alarmed. They weren’t preparing for an intrusion or bracing for conflict. They were… relaxed. At ease.

Sebastian stopped just short of the doorway, his back pressed against the wall as he angled his head slightly to listen. Evangeline followed suit, her heart thundering in her chest as she strained to make out the words.

“…absolutely not going to happen,” a woman’s voice said, firm but laced with humor. “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in?”

A man chuckled in response, his tone light. “You’re too cautious. Nobody would ever find out you stole a single chocolate.”

Evangeline glanced at Sebastian, her confusion mirrored in his expression. These weren’t the voices of people plotting sinister deeds or issuing threats. They sounded… normal.

Sebastian tilted his head toward the doorway, signaling for her to follow his lead. Together, they edged closer, the soft glow of firelight spilling into the hallway as they approached.

When they reached the threshold, Sebastian paused, his wand at the ready. He glanced at Evangeline, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. She nodded, taking a steadying breath.

And then, in one fluid motion, Sebastian stepped into the doorway, his presence commanding as he leveled his wand at the room’s occupants. “Nobody move!” he barked, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversation like a knife.

Evangeline followed, her wand raised, her gaze sweeping the room.

A man seated in an elaborate armchair near the fire slowly lowered the glass of amber liquid he’d been holding, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. Two other men, one perched on the arm of a sofa and the other standing by the mantel, looked equally startled, their expressions shifting from confusion to wariness. Two women, who Evangeline assumed to be their wives, were seated nearby, exchanging wide-eyed glances, one of them clutching at her pearl necklace as if it could protect her. A third woman, her hair streaked with gray but her features no less striking, rose slowly from her seat, her gaze darting between Sebastian and Evangeline.

The two house-elves in the corner, both clad in pristine white linens embroidered with the Muldoon crest, let out startled squeaks, one dropping the tray of teacups it was holding. The delicate porcelain shattered against the polished floor, the sound unnervingly loud in the heavy silence that followed.

Evangeline’s wand remained steady, though her heart was pounding in her chest. Her gaze swept over the room, cataloging every face, every movement—and then she froze. Her breath caught as her eyes locked onto the man in the chair.

It was his jawline that struck her first, so similar to the one she saw in her own reflection. His cheekbones, the slope of his nose—they were eerily familiar. Her gaze flicked to the men near the hearth, and the similarities were undeniable. The same hazel undertones in their eyes. The dark hair. Even the subtle curve of their brows mirrored her own.

The realization hit her like a physical blow. They look like me.

“Who in Merlin’s name—” the man in the chair began, his voice deep and commanding, but he trailed off abruptly as his sharp gaze landed on Evangeline.

His expression shifted, the wariness melting into something else entirely: recognition. One of the men standing by the hearth—the one with a slight scar cutting through his left eyebrow—took a step forward, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

“You’re….” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re Rowena’s daughter.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. The older woman gasped softly, one hand flying to her mouth. The others exchanged looks of shock and confusion, their collective attention snapping back to Evangeline.

The man in the chair rose slowly, his movements deliberate as he set his glass aside. He studied her intently, gaze raking over her features as though searching for confirmation of what he already knew.

“You look just like her,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, filled with something between wonder and regret. “There’s no mistaking it."

Sebastian, still holding his wand at the ready, shot Evangeline a sidelong glance. “Evie?”

She didn’t answer, too stunned to speak as her mind reeled. The faces around her blurred together, each one a strange reflection of her own features, a living puzzle piece that she hadn’t realized was missing.

The heavy silence lingered for a moment, the room tense with disbelief and recognition. Finally, the man from the chair straightened fully, his presence commanding as his gaze remained locked on Evangeline.

“My name is Percival Muldoon,” he said carefully, as though every word carried immense weight. “Your mother, Rowena, was my older sister. I’m your uncle.”

The words hit her like a tidal wave. Uncle. Family.

The man by the hearth—with the slight scar cutting through his brow—stepped forward cautiously, his expression a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. “Cassian Muldoon,” he offered, inclining his head slightly. “I’m the eldest. Rowena was my baby sister.”

“And I’m Benedict,second oldest,” the third man interjected, his tone warm but tentative. He gestured to one of the younger women. “This is Astrid, my wife.”

The oldest woman stood then, her Scandinavian accent unmistakable as she spoke. “I am Freya, Cassian's wife,” she said softly, her striking features kind but guarded. She gestured to the other woman, who had remained seated. “This is Anja, Percival's wife.”

Evangeline’s gaze darted between the faces, the names. The voices. Each one landed like a piece of a puzzle she hadn’t realized she was holding. She swallowed hard, her voice finally finding its way out.

"I—I'm Evangeline."

Cassian who stepped forward slightly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. To what do we owe the pleasure, Evangeline?”

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking toward Sebastian. He reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Drawing a deep breath, Evangeline stepped closer to him, her wand still held firmly aloft.

“I’m here,” she started, her voice firm despite the tension in her chest, “to discuss your meddling in my life—and to put an end to it.”

The room erupted into murmurs, the family exchanging confused glances. Astrid looked taken aback, her brow furrowing. “Meddling?” she repeated, glancing at her husband. “What is she talking about, Benedict?”

Freya and Anja exchanged puzzled looks, while Benedict’s expression darkened slightly, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “Evangeline,” he began, his voice careful, “I assure you, we’ve done no such thing.”

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed, her grip on Sebastian’s hand tightening. “Don’t lie to me,” she said coldly. “I’ve been receiving threatening letters signed with the Muldoon name. Don’t tell me you’ve had nothing to do with it.”

Percival’s brows furrowed deeply, genuine confusion flickering across his face. “Threatening letters?” he echoed, his tone sharp with disbelief. “They're certainly not from us.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cassian said firmly, his voice tinged with indignation. “Why would we send threats to our own niece? We’ve only just met you!”

Sebastian’s gaze swept over the family, his wand still loosely at his side. “It’s easy for you to say that,” he said evenly, though his voice held a sharp edge. “But you have to understand how this looks. A family of your power, your reputation—how can we be sure you’re telling the truth?”

The room tensed again, the Muldoons bristling slightly at Sebastian’s words, but it was Benedict who stepped forward, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Let’s not escalate this,” he said, his voice calm. “Evangeline,” he said, turning to her, “can you show us these letters?”

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her instincts warring with the sincerity in their voices. After a beat, she nodded slowly. Releasing Sebastian’s hand, she reached into her bag and pulled out the envelope containing both letters, her fingers tightening around them as she extended them toward Percival.

The youngest brother accepted them carefully, his expression darkening as he glanced down at the parchment.

Evangeline’s eyes tracked his every movement, searching for any sign of deceit—a twitch of the jaw, a shift in his tone. But his expression remained drawn and serious as he began to leaf through the envelope.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Percival muttered, stepping closer to the hearth where the light was better. Cassian and Benedict joined him, their expressions grim as they peered over his shoulder.

As Percival reached to pull the first letter from the envelope with his bare hand, something in Evangeline’s chest tightened. The memory of the ink flashed through her mind, sharp and visceral.

“Stop!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the quiet room.

Percival froze, his brow furrowing as he glanced at her. “What?”

“Don’t touch it with your hands,” she said quickly, stepping closer. “The ink is toxic... you should use your wand.”

“Poisoned?” Percival echoed, his voice sharp with disbelief. He turned the envelope slightly, examining it with renewed caution. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, I found out the hard way." She paused, swallowing hard. "Though... I suppose if you’d sent those letters, you’d know that already.”

Sebastian nodded, his hand finding hers again. “She’s not exaggerating,” he added, his voice hard. “The ink is potent."

Percival’s gaze flicked between them, his jaw tightening. He drew his wand and gently levitated the letter out of the envelope, suspending it in the air as he inspected it.

“This…” Percival said slowly, his voice edged with anger as he studied the words. “This isn’t from us. Not in tone, not in intent. And if someone went to the trouble of using poisoned ink—” He broke off, his gaze hardening as he turned to Cassian and Benedict. “We have an enemy.”

Cassian’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he examined the letter over Percival’s shoulder. “It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Who would go to such lengths to threaten our niece in our name? And why?”

Sebastian and Evangeline exchanged a glance, the unspoken question hanging heavily between them: Do we believe them?

The lack of knowledge about the toxic ink certainly seemed genuine, a strong point in their favor. But as Evangeline’s mind churned with doubt, she caught the subtle tightening of Sebastian’s jaw. He wasn’t convinced—not yet.

Sebastian took a small step forward, his wand still loosely at his side. “If these letters weren’t sent by you, prove it,” he said sharply. “I want to see your stationery—the paper, the ink, the seals you use. Bring everything.”

Benedict frowned at the demand, his gaze flicking to Percival, who gave a small nod of assent. Benedict turned to one of the house-elves hovering nervously near the corner of the room.

“Lysie,” he said firmly, gesturing toward the door. “Fetch the stationery from the office. All of it—every parchment, quill, and bottle of ink. And be quick.”

The house-elf bobbed her head in a rapid bow, her voice squeaking out, “Yes, Master Benedict,” before she disappeared with a faint pop.

The room fell into a tense silence as they waited. Evangeline could feel the weight of every pair of eyes on her, but it was Sebastian’s steady presence at her side that kept her grounded. He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze.

“I understand your skepticism,” Percival said after a moment, his tone calmer now, though it carried an edge of frustration. “But you must realize how absurd this accusation seems from our perspective. Why would we send threats to our own niece? It’s completely illogical.”

"Illogical?" Evangeline scoffed, her voice sharp as she stepped forward, the tension in her chest building. "Surely you can understand my perspective?"

The Muldoons exchanged uneasy glances, but none of them interrupted as she continued.

"I grew up in a Muggle orphanage," she said, her tone steady but laced with frustration. "No one ever told me where I came from, who I was. Then, at fifteen, my magic shows up—late, unexpected, and with ancient abilities no less. I defeat Ranrok, and only then does my notorious pure-blood family suddenly appear in the picture. Why? Because the Ministry just so happened to find out I was connected to you? Because I was proving to be more than just an orphan with a late magical start?"

Freya opened her mouth, but Evangeline cut her off. “The Ministry swears me to secrecy about my connection to the Muldoon name, but somehow, somehow, during the social season, it comes out. I don't get any direct communication from my so-called family, and yet I’m suddenly labeled the most eligible debutante of the year, paraded around by the press like some rare, exotic bird, with article after article speculating about what you expect of me. What alliances I’m supposed to forge.”

Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on, her frustration spilling over. "So yes, it seems reasonable to me that this is all a game for your reputation. You’re a powerful pure-blood family—this is what you do. Is it not?"

The room fell silent for a moment, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Percival exhaled slowly, his expression grave as he stepped forward. “Evangeline,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I... see how it looks to you, and I won’t deny that we could’ve handled this better. But I need you to understand—we didn’t reveal your name to anyone. We wanted it to stay secret, to protect you. That was the whole point.”

Cassian nodded, his face serious as he added, “We knew about you, yes, but we didn’t reach out because we wanted the choice to be yours. Whether you wanted to meet us, whether you wanted anything to do with the Muldoons—that was always your decision.”

“But you must understand,” Benedict interjected, his voice gentler now, “our world and yours… they’ve been so far apart. Yes, we’ve lived here, in Ireland, but we never interfered in British society—not intentionally. We had no idea about this... social season nonsense.”

“What do you mean, ‘no idea’?” Sebastian asked sharply, his brow furrowing.

Freya stepped forward, her Scandinavian accent lilting as she spoke. “The Muldoons have always been part of Oslo’s social season. That’s where the family historically determines alliances, where eligible bachelors and debutantes meet. It’s been that way for centuries.”

Evangeline’s mouth parted slightly, her train of thought derailed by their explanation. The Muldoons truly didn’t seem connected to British wizarding society at all. It made sense the more she thought about it. They sent their children to Durmstrang, not Hogwarts—a choice that already set them apart from most other prominent families in the Isles. She couldn’t recall any of the Sacred Twenty-Four ever boasting of forming alliances with the Muldoons. In fact, no alliances at all came to mind. The Muldoons clearly kept themselves separate.

The more she turned their words over in her mind, the more their explanation began to hold water. Even Ominis had said as much when he’d spoken of how the Muldoons had no interest in pure-blood politics.

Now that she was standing in their home, speaking to them directly, it was as if puzzle pieces she hadn’t even realized were scattered began clicking into place. It wasn’t the Muldoons pulling the strings of her social season. It had never been. The machinations that had thrust her into the spotlight, branding her the “most eligible debutante” and slandering Sebastian, weren’t born of Muldoon design. They were someone else’s scheme entirely.

Percival’s expression softened. “If someone used our name to manipulate you, Evangeline, then that is a betrayal not just to you, but to us. And I promise you, we will find out who’s behind it.”

Evangeline glanced at Sebastian, whose gaze was fixed on the Muldoons with unwavering scrutiny. “What do you think?” she murmured.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened slightly, his lips parting as if he were about to respond, when the sound of a soft pop interrupted him. The house-elf reappeared, arms laden with an assortment of parchment, ink bottles, and wax seals stacked precariously high. Despite the load, her movements were swift and practiced as she approached Benedict.

“Master Benedict,” the house-elf squeaked, bowing low as she placed the items on the nearby table. “Everything from the office, sir, just as you asked.”

“Thank you, Lysie,” Benedict said with a small nod. The house-elf bowed again before stepping back, her wide eyes flicking nervously between the humans.

Sebastian exchanged a quick glance with Evangeline before stepping forward. He eyed the items on the table, his sharp gaze flicking between the parchment and ink bottles. “Alright,” he said, his tone brisk. “Let’s see if anything here matches.”

Evangeline joined him, her wand still in hand as she leaned over the assortment of items. Her heart was pounding, a mixture of anticipation and nerves as she began to examine the materials.

The parchment was thick and high-quality, its texture smooth under her fingertips. She turned over one sheet, noting the faint watermark of the Muldoon family crest embedded in the fibers. The ink bottles were ornate, labeled in what appeared to be Norwegian, and the wax seals bore intricate designs that matched the crest as well.

Sebastian picked up a sheet of parchment, holding it up to the light as he scrutinized it. “This... doesn’t match the letters,” he muttered, his tone thoughtful. “The texture is different. The grain is finer on the letters you received.”

Evangeline nodded, picking up one of the ink bottles and uncorking it carefully. She dipped her wand tip into the ink, swirling it gently before pulling it back. The liquid shimmered faintly, its color rich and vibrant. “The ink doesn’t match either,” she said.

Cassian, who had unfolded the second letter from the set Evangeline had brought, skimmed the text, his expression darkening.

“This letter,” he said slowly, his voice heavy with thought. “It mentions a ‘Gaunt boy and his companion.’” He looked up, his gaze settling on Evangeline. “The name Gaunt sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. Who is this boy they speak of?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, his tone cold when he spoke. “Ominis Gaunt. He’s a very close friend of ours and an honorable man. His family, however, is a different story.”

Cassian’s brow arched. “Go on.”

Evangeline sighed. “Ominis comes from the Gaunt family—an old pure-blood line infamous for their obsession with blood purity and their connection to Salazar Slytherin. His father, Lord Noctivus Gaunt, is... well, he’s as vile as they come.”

“And what does this Noctivus Gaunt have to do with you?” Cassian asked, his tone edged with curiosity but laced with caution.

Evangeline hesitated before answering, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “Ominis has been courting Anne Sallow—Sebastian’s sister. Noctivus disapproves of the match, of course, because Anne isn’t from a "sacred" pure-blood family.”

Cassian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable as he absorbed the information.

Sebastian crossed his arms, his voice sharper now. “Noctivus didn’t just disapprove. He actively interfered. Used every dirty trick in the book to try to end the courtship.”

Evangeline nodded, her gaze fixed on the letter in Cassian’s hands. “It reached a breaking point,” she admitted. “And... I used the Muldoon name to force Noctivus’s hand.”

That caught the attention of everyone in the room. Percival’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Benedict tilted his head, his expression intrigued. Freya and Anja exchanged quick glances but said nothing.

“You used our name?” Percival asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge of incredulity.

Evangeline met his gaze directly, her tone firm. “I didn’t have a choice. I... I confronted Noctivus as if I had your full backing. I told him the Muldoons would view his interference as a blemish on the Gaunt family’s honor, and that there would be consequences if he didn’t leave Anne and Ominis alone.”

Cassian leaned back slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And did it work?”

“It did,” Evangeline replied, though her voice was quieter now. “Noctivus backed down. He stopped meddling, and Ominis was free to continue his courtship with Anne. But clearly... not anymore.”

Percival studied her for a long moment, his gaze calculating. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “You took a gamble, and a bold one at that. I can’t say I approve of you using our name without permission, but... your intentions were admirable.”

Sebastian’s frown deepened. “All social season, the Prophet has been driving q specific... narrative. Articles about Evangeline being the ‘most eligible debutante,’ about the Muldoon family’s lofty expectations for her. They’ve painted me as… unsuitable.” His voice grew tight, the frustration clear in every syllable. “And now, knowing it wasn’t you—knowing the real Muldoons had nothing to do with it—then who started it?”

Benedict hummed in agreement, though his expression remained serious. “We need to consider who would benefit from this, benefit from trying to make it look as though we’ve betrayed you.”

"It's someone who doesn't want us to be together," Evangeline reasoned quietly, "Or equally, someone who doesn't want Anne and Ominis together."

Cassian’s nodded. “Indeed. And clearly we’ve been made scapegoats,” he said grimly. “If someone leaked your connection to us and then manufactured our supposed disapproval, they’ve crafted a perfect storm.”

Percival rubbed his chin, his gaze sharp as it flicked between Evangeline and Sebastian. “But Benedict is right... who would gain from this? What’s their endgame?”

“Control,” Freya interjected. “If someone manipulated Evangeline's name into British high society, they’re using her to push their own agenda... whatever it is.”

“And if you refused to play along?” Anja added quietly, her piercing gaze landing on Evangeline. “Then they isolate you and force you into submission.”

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists, his jaw clenching. “That explains the letters.”

Evangeline exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping to the parchment on the table. “But how did they know I was a Muldoon in the first place?” she murmured. “The Ministry made me swear to keep it a secret.”

Percival straightened, his expression darkening. "And all these threats you've received... they've never come directly from a person?"

Evangeline opened her mouth to confirm, but a memory flickered through her mind like a flash of lightning—the so-called "Muldoon representative" who had cornered her.

“There was… one person. At the charity auction. They claimed to be a representative of the Muldoon family.”

The room went still, all eyes snapping to her.

“They didn’t threaten me outright,"" Evangeline continued. "They just... approached me. Said I wasn’t meeting the family’s ‘expectations.’ That I was tarnishing the Muldoon name by associating with certain people.” Her gaze flicked to Sebastian, her heart sinking as his expression hardened. “And when I asked for their name, they refused to give one.”

Percival’s face darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “No one here sent anyone to a charity auction. I can promise you that.”

Cassian leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. “They refused to give a name,” he said slowly. “But did they give you anything else? A hint, a detail—anything we can use to track them down?”

Evangeline shook her head, her frustration palpable. “No, nothing. They were careful—calculated. I can’t think of anything specific that would help identify them.”

The tension in the room was thick, the Muldoons exchanging uneasy glances as they tried to make sense of the situation. Then Freya cleared her throat, her brow furrowed in thought.

���What about the poison?” she asked, her voice calm but cutting through the haze of uncertainty. “If the ink is toxic, it might be traceable. The ingredients, the method—it could lead us to the source.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up with sudden realization, and he turned to Evangeline. “She's right. Poison like that doesn’t just come out of nowhere. Someone with access to it could be traced.”

Evangeline opened her mouth to agree, but the words caught in her throat as a chilling realization began to form. Her breath hitched, and her mind raced, connecting dots she hadn’t thought to examine before.

The ink. The poison. The manipulation. Someone invested in Ominis and Anne’s relationship. Someone who hated that she was a Muldoon. Someone who had poisoned her in the past.

Her blood ran cold.

“Noctivus,” she whispered, the name barely audible but heavy with dread.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“It makes sense now,” she said, her voice gaining strength as the pieces clicked into place. “It’s Noctivus Gaunt. It has to be. He’s the only one who fits. He knows I’m a Muldoon. He knows about Anne and Ominis. And he’s already poisoned me before."

Sebastian nodded slowly, his expression darkening. “That's why he was forcing the ultimatum. If he can’t get what he wants—Anne and Ominis breaking up—then he’ll make sure you don’t get what you want, either..."

"Exactly," Evangeline nodded. "Us."

Percival’s expression hardened, his sharp features etched with a grim understanding. “And if you had secured what he considered an 'advantageous match,' Evangeline,” he said, his voice cool but edged with steel, “then his son would be further protected by association with you. That would cement Ominis’s position and safeguard the Gaunt family’s dwindling influence.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair with an incredulous expression. “He’s playing a long game, isn’t he? Trying to manipulate every possible outcome to his favor. And using our name to do it.”

The realization settled heavily over the room, an almost palpable weight hanging in the air as the truth began to crystallize. Noctivus Gaunt—his schemes, his poison, his obsessive desire for control—it all fit too perfectly. Silence followed as everyone processed the implications, the crackling of the hearth the only sound cutting through the tension.

Evangeline’s mind raced, questions piling on top of one another with dizzying speed. This revelation answered so much, yet it left so much unresolved. Noctivus’s motives were clear now, but how were they supposed to face him? How could they force his hand to stop? The idea of confronting Noctivus again made her stomach churn.

And yet her thoughts spiraled further. The Muldoons had explained their detachment from British society and its pureblood politics, but they still participated in the Oslo social season. That meant matchmaking and alliances still mattered to them, didn’t it? Would they approve of Sebastian if their traditions aligned with those of other pureblood families? And even if they didn’t care about blood purity to the same extent, why were they being so kind to her—a half-blood—thus far?

The questions twisted her thoughts into a tangled knot, leaving her too distracted to notice the faint sound of approaching footsteps.

The door to the sitting room creaked open, and a young woman stepped inside. She was strikingly beautiful, with long, sleek dark hair that shimmered in the firelight and hazel eyes that mirrored Evangeline’s own. Her gown was an elegant emerald green, its delicate embroidery catching the light as she moved.

She stopped short, her gaze sweeping over the room with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What on earth is going on in here?”

Pervical straightened, his expression softening as he gestured toward the newcomer. “Annalise,” he said warmly, “come in.”

Annalise. Of course. This had to be Evangeline's cousin—Percival Muldoon’s only daughter. The realization hit her like a lightning bolt, the pieces clicking into place.

Annalise’s gaze landed on Evangeline, her head tilting slightly as a smile flickered across her lips. “Oh, so you must be her,” she said, her voice carrying an almost playful lilt. “The long-lost cousin everyone’s been whispering about for months.”

Evangeline blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I... suppose I am."

Annalise stepped further into the room, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. “You look just like Aunt Rowena,” she said matter-of-factly, though her gaze lingered on Evangeline with an intensity that felt almost probing. “Well, except for the height,” she added with a small, teasing smile. "Rowena was quite tall."

Evangeline forced a small smile of her own, her tone cautious but not unfriendly. “Yes well... it's nice to meet you... cousin."

Annalise’s smile widened slightly at Evangeline’s words, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in her hazel eyes. “Cousin,” she echoed, almost tasting the word. “I suppose that’s what we are. It’s strange, isn’t it? Meeting family you didn’t even know existed.”

Percival cleared his throat, his tone gentle but firm. “Annalise, we were in the middle of a discussion—”

“Oh, I can see that,” Annalise interrupted lightly, her gaze sweeping over the table laden with parchment and ink bottles before settling on Sebastian. Her eyes narrowed just slightly, her curiosity piqued. “And... you are?"

Sebastian met Annalise’s gaze evenly, his shoulders straightening. “Sebastian Sallow,” he said, his voice steady but with an edge of wariness.

Annalise raised an eyebrow, her expression intrigued. “Ah, Sebastian,” she repeated, her tone lilting with curiosity. “I've heard of you... Something about forbidden romance and dramatic headlines.” Her smile turned slightly mischievous, her gaze flicking back to Evangeline. “You do know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

“Annalise,” Anja interrupted gently but firmly, stepping forward to place a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “This is a serious matter, not one for idle gossip.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s about our family,” Annalise countered smoothly, slipping out from under her mother’s hand with practiced ease. “And isn’t this a family matter? It’s not every day your long-lost cousin appears out of nowhere.”

“This discussion doesn’t concern you,” Percival said, his voice sharpening slightly. “Let us handle it.”

Annalise crossed her arms, her expression obstinate as she leaned against the edge of a chair. “It concerns me if it concerns the Muldoon name,” she retorted. “Isn’t that what you’re always saying? That family comes first?”

Evangeline couldn’t help the flicker of recognition that tugged at her chest. Seeing her own stubbornness reflected so clearly in Annalise was disarming. It was like looking into a mirror of her younger self, bold and brash, unwilling to back down. Her lips twitched into a faint, involuntary smile.

Sebastian caught her reaction out of the corner of his eye and smirked faintly himself. “...Must run in the family,” he muttered just loud enough for Evangeline to hear.

Evangeline shot him a sideways look but couldn’t suppress her amusement. “Clearly,” she replied under her breath.

Annalise seemed to sense the quiet exchange, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly as she regarded them. “So, are you going to fill me in, or should I start guessing?” she asked, her tone breezy but underpinned with curiosity.

“Annalise,” Anja said again, her voice carrying a note of warning.

“It’s fine,” Evangeline interjected, surprising even herself. All eyes turned to her as she stepped forward, her gaze settling on her cousin. “If she’s anything like me—” her lips quirked slightly “—she’s not going to leave until she knows what’s going on.”

Annalise’s smile brightened, her arms uncrossing as she straightened. “Finally, someone who gets it.”

Sebastian let out a low chuckle, though he quickly masked it with a cough when Percival shot him a sharp look.

Annalise’s gaze darted between them, her curiosity intensifying. “So, what is it? A secret inheritance? A duel over family honor? Or did someone insult the Muldoon crest?” She winked.

Evangeline shook her head, “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Well,” Annalise said, settling into a nearby chair with a dramatic flourish, “I’m all ears.”

Cassian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before addressing Annalise. “To put it simply, dear niece, someone has been using the Muldoon name to manipulate Evangeline’s life. They’ve sent threatening letters, poisoned her, and orchestrated a campaign in British high society all to isolate her and sabotage her relationships.”

Annalise’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced with a sharp seriousness. “Using our name? Poisoning her?” Her gaze snapped to Evangeline, her tone incredulous. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly serious,” Sebastian said flatly, his arms crossed as he leaned slightly toward Evangeline, ever the protector.

Annalise’s hazel eyes flicked to the table laden with evidence—the letters, the parchment, the ink bottles. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she exhaled sharply. “So who's the suspect?"

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “The culprit is likely Lord Noctivus Gaunt. It appears his vendetta against Evangeline and her friends has spiraled into something quite insidious.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the revelations settling over them once more. Evangeline’s mind churned, the questions that had been swirling earlier rushing back in full force. Her gaze drifted between Cassian, Percival, and Annalise, her chest tightening with a mix of frustration and curiosity.

Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. "Before we continue... I can't keep ignoring the graphorn in the room."

The room stilled, every eye turning to Evangeline as her words hung in the air, bold and unflinching. For a moment, no one spoke.

“What do you mean?” Percival asked carefully.

Evangeline squared her shoulders, the tension in her chest spilling over into her voice. “I mean we can’t keep skirting around the truth about my parents. About why I grew up in a Muggle orphanage.”

Cassian’s brows knitted together, his expression darkening. “Evangeline—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice steady but edged with emotion. “I’ve gone my whole life with more questions than answers. And now I’m here, standing in the middle of this beautiful house, hearing all about how you wanted to protect me, to give me a choice. But that doesn’t quite align with why my mother was disowned. Or why my parents died in that fire.”

Percival’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled slowly, as though steadying himself. “It's not as simple as you think.”

Evangeline’s hazel eyes flared with frustration. “Then explain it to me. Because even if you're not behind all of this, all I see are people who abandoned me until it was convenient to acknowledge I existed.”

Annalise shifted uncomfortably but didn’t interject, her gaze darting between Evangeline and her father. There was a flicker of something in her expression—sympathy, maybe—but she held her tongue.

Percival’s jaw tightened, his gaze sharp but not unkind as it fixed on hers. “We didn’t abandon you,” he claimed, his tone quieter now, weighted with something deeper. “We didn’t even know you existed until after you defeated Ranrok.”

Evangeline scoffed. "And yet you didn't reach out to me. You knew for years and never sent word."

Cassian’s voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of frustration. “Yes, we knew about you, but we were trying to respect your independence. We couldn’t just appear out of nowhere and demand a place in your life. You’d have every right to resent us—and we anticipated you might.”

Evangeline’s gaze flickered between the brothers, her frustration warring with the weight of their explanation. “So you thought leaving me in the dark was better? That it was some sort of kindness?”

Percival’s jaw tightened, his features etched with regret. “We made mistakes,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “Mistakes that came from fear and uncertainty, not malice.”

Benedict interjected, his tone softening further. “We didn’t know how you’d feel about us. Especially knowing what our parents did.”

Cassian exchanged a brief glance with Percival and Benedict, an unspoken agreement passing between them before he continued. “Our parents were… relentless when it came to protecting the family’s reputation. When Rowena married your father... they erased her from the family."

“We never forgave our parents for it,” Benedict cut in. “Not for disowning her, not for what happened to Rowena and your father. It... created a rift that never healed.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. “And... you expect me to believe you’re different?”

Annalise cleared her throat, her voice unexpectedly soft but no less firm. “Maybe she needs to see the bedroom.”

The suggestion hung in the air, puzzling both Evangeline and Sebastian. Evangeline frowned, glancing between the Muldoons as an almost palpable tension passed between them.

Cassian and Percival exchanged a glance, something unspoken passing between them before Cassian gave a faint nod. “It might help,” he admitted quietly.

“What bedroom?” Evangeline asked, her tone sharper than she intended, the frustration from their earlier conversation still simmering beneath the surface.

Anja stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were approaching a frightened animal. Evangeline instinctively stiffened, her wand hand twitching slightly, but Anja raised her hands in a placating gesture. “It's alright, dear,” she said softly. “Just... come with me.”

Evangeline hesitated, her gaze flicking to Sebastian. His hand found hers, his fingers curling around hers in silent support. “We go together,” he said firmly, his voice brooking no argument.

Anja nodded, her expression unruffled by his protectiveness. “Of course.”

With Sebastian’s steady presence at her side, Evangeline followed Anja out of the sitting room. The rest of the family trailed behind them, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpets as they ascended the grand staircase to the third floor.

The hallways grew narrower and quieter the higher they climbed, the decor becoming less ostentatious and more personal. Family portraits lined the walls, each frame intricately carved and lovingly maintained. Evangeline caught glimpses of the faces—stern patriarchs, elegant matriarchs, and the occasional mischievous child immortalized in oil paint.

At the end of the hallway, Anja paused in front of a simple wooden door. She glanced back at the group, her expression unreadable, before pushing it open with a quiet creak.

Evangeline stepped inside cautiously, her heart pounding as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The bedroom was modest compared to the rest of the manor, but there was an undeniable warmth to it. The walls were painted a soft shade of lavender, and the furniture, though simple, was clearly crafted with care. A well-worn rocking chair sat in one corner, draped with a faded quilt. On the dresser were framed photographs, their glass surfaces slightly smudged from years of handling.

Her breath hitched as she approached the dresser, her eyes locking onto one of the photographs. A young woman with dark hair and warm eyes stood arm in arm with a man—Evangeline recognized him to be her father—his casual suit contrasting with Rowena's elegant robes. Evangeline reached out, her fingers hovering over the frame as though afraid to touch it.

“That’s Rowena and Arthur,” Benedict said quietly from behind her. “Your parents.”

Evangeline’s throat tightened, her vision blurring slightly as she looked at the other photographs—Rowena as a child, Rowena in her Durmstrang uniform, Rowena laughing beside a younger Cassian and Percival. Each image painted a picture of a life that had been carefully preserved, even as it had been erased from the rest of the Muldoon legacy.

Cassian stepped into the room, leaning back against the wall. “When our parents first disowned Rowena... they wanted to remove all traces of her from the house. Her belongings, her photographs, everything.”

Benedict nodded, his gaze drifting to the rocking chair. “So we hid everything we could—her childhood belongings, her pictures, even her favorite books. When our parents passed, we restored the room exactly as it was.”

Evangeline turned to face them, her emotions a whirlwind of anger, grief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “You kept this… all this time?”

"Of course we did,” Percival said firmly. “She was our sister, we loved her. We still do."

Evangeline stood frozen, her emotions a maelstrom of grief, confusion, and disbelief as her gaze swept over the room.

Meanwhile, Annalise stepped forward hesitantly, her movements cautious yet deliberate. Sebastian stiffened at the approach, his hand tightening protectively around Evangeline’s. His sharp gaze darted to Annalise, silently warning her to keep her distance.

But something inside Evangeline wavered as she took in her cousin's features—the high cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, the way her frame mirrored Evangeline’s own. The resemblance was undeniable. She wasn’t just looking at a cousin; she was looking at proof of a connection she had spent her entire life missing.

Her grip on Sebastian’s hand slackened and Annalise closed the distance between them, her arms wrapping around Evangeline in a tentative but genuine hug. Evangeline stood stiffly for a moment, unsure how to react, but then something within her gave way. She closed her eyes, her arms slowly lifting to return the embrace. The contact felt strange, yet comforting—a connection she hadn’t realized she’d been yearning for.

“You’re really my cousin,” Evangeline murmured, her voice soft and almost disbelieving.

Annalise pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Evangeline’s gaze. “I am,” she said simply, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. “And I know what you’ve probably heard about us. All the rumors, the dark magic, the blood rituals, our obsession with secrecy…”

Evangeline’s breath hitched slightly, her hazel eyes narrowing as the familiar tales of Muldoon mystique swirled in her mind. Annalise’s smile softened, her tone light but carrying a weight that stilled the room. “I’ll admit, there’s truth in some of it,” she said, her voice calm, though there was a flicker of unease in her eyes. “But it’s not what the rumors would have you believe. The Muldoons have alwasy been... keepers of knowledge. Some of it ancient. Some of it... strange. It’s what we’ve done for generations—preserving magical history.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “Then why all the secrecy?”

Annalise sighed, glancing briefly at her father as she let go of Evangeline.

“Knowledge,” Percival began, “is power. And not everyone can be trusted with power.”

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The work our family does—the knowledge we’ve preserved—goes beyond anything you might find in Hogwarts or Durmstrang or the Ministry archives,” Percival continued. “We’ve spent generations safeguarding magical texts, ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts. Much of it is harmless when studied responsibly, but in the wrong hands...”

“And you think keeping it hidden is the best solution?” Evangeline asked, her voice laced with doubt. “If it’s so dangerous, wouldn’t it be better to destroy it?”

Percival’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening briefly before he spoke. “Destroying knowledge doesn’t eliminate the dangers—it only ensures that when it resurfaces, as it always does, it’s in the hands of someone who isn’t prepared for it.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her mind racing. It was almost too much to take in: the idea that the family she had imagined as shadowy manipulators might instead see themselves as protectors. It made sense, and yet it felt too convenient, too easy. And still, something in the way they spoke made it difficult to dismiss outright.

“So... you’re saying all the rumors—the blood rituals, the dark magic—it’s all just... misunderstanding? Legends taken out of context?” She asked, glancing between them.

Percival let out a small, dry laugh. “Not all of it,” he admitted, his expression faintly amused. “The truth is, some of those stories are rooted in fact. Our ancestors were... let’s just say dedicated to preserving their power and influence. But that’s not who we are anymore. Our family isn’t clinging to outdated traditions or purity-obsessed ideologies. We focus on what really matters—protecting what we’ve preserved and using it to understand magical history."

Evangeline’s arms tightened across her chest. “So what about me?” she asked quietly, her voice carrying the weight of long-buried insecurities. “I’m not a pure-blood."

“You’re Rowena’s daughter," Percival said firmly. "That’s all that matters. You’re family, Evangeline.”

Evangeline glanced back at Sebastian, who was standing silently behind her, his arms crossed. His expression was an unreadable mix of skepticism and protectiveness, his sharp eyes scanning each of the Muldoons like he was still weighing every word.

Turning back to the family, she took a deep breath, her voice carefully measured as she asked, “And what about who I court? Who I... choose to marry?”

The question hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, the Muldoons exchanged glances, as if silently deciding who would answer.

It was Cassian who finally broke the silence, his tone calm but firm. “Of course, we want the best for our children—our nieces, nephews, cousins. We want them to be with someone smart, driven, and successful. Someone who will treat them with respect and love.”

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her brow furrowing as she braced herself for what came next.

“But whether that person is a pure-blood, half-blood, or Muggle-born?” Cassian continued, his voice softening. “We don’t care. Blood status isn’t what defines someone’s worth, at least not to us.”

Percival nodded in agreement, stepping forward slightly. “And if you and Mr. Sallow—” he gestured toward Sebastian with a faint smile “—are happy together, then we’re happy for you.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, her throat tight as their words settled over her. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, though doubt still lingered in the back of her mind. She glanced back at Sebastian again, finding his gaze fixed on hers. His expression was softer now, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I’m here, his eyes seemed to say. And whatever you decide, I’m with you.

Evangeline exhaled slowly and met Percival’s gaze, her voice quiet but steady. “If that’s true… if you really mean that, then I’d... like to try. To trust you.”

A ripple of relief passed through the room. Percival’s features softened, his stern expression giving way to a small, genuine smile. Cassian and Benedict exchanged a pleased glance while their wives all seemed to relax for the first time since the encounter began.

Annalise grinned, stepping forward and giving Evangeline’s arm a playful squeeze. “Good. Because you’re stuck with us now, cousin.”

Sebastian, who had been quietly observing, gave a faint smirk at Annalise’s remark but quickly sobered. “That’s all well and good,” he said, his tone measured, “but... we have bigger problems right now.”

All eyes turned to him, and he glanced at Evangeline for confirmation before continuing. “Noctivus. If we’re certain he’s the one behind all this, we need to stop him before he does any more damage.”

“Agreed,” Percival said firmly, his expression darkening.

“But how do you propose we corner someone like him?" Evangeline wondered. "He’s dangerous and calculating—I faced him once, and I'd rather not do it again... at least, not alone.”

Sebastian’s gaze hardened, his protective instincts immediately on edge. “You won’t be alone,” he said firmly. “We’ll handle him together.”

Cassian tilted his head, his expression contemplative. “Lord Gaunt may be calculating, but every strategist has a blind spot.”

“And his,” Benedict added slowly, “seems to be his son.”

The room fell into a thoughtful silence as the weight of her words settled. Percival rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed. “His son... Yes, that could work. If we involve him, we might have the leverage we need."

Sebastian hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward Evangeline. She was watching him, her hazel eyes filled with a quiet resolve that steadied something in him. Her trust in the Muldoons was tentative, but it was there, and that was enough for him—for now.

“Alright,” he agreed, his tone measured but firm. "I'll write to them. But they’re not going to go through what Evangeline and I did to get here. If we’re inviting them, clear instructions on how to access the manor without triggering every ward you’ve got.”

Cassian smiled at Sebastian’s insistence. “Of course. Annalise, fetch Mr. Sallow a quill and parchment. But speaking of the wards,” he said, his tone carrying both curiosity and a touch of amusement, “I’d like to hear how you managed to bypass them in the first place."

Evangeline hesitated, her hand brushing against Sebastian’s arm as she glanced toward him for support. His expression hardened slightly, his protectiveness rising again. "Why?"

Cassian raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Relax, Mr. Sallow. The wards are there to protect the manor, the library, and everything contained within. They’re designed to prevent any unwelcome guests from breaching our defenses without permission. The fact that you both managed to get through is… noteworthy.”

“They’re not harmful,” Benedict clarified, his voice steady and calm. “Just designed to prevent access. Prolonged exposure to the second ward obliviates trespassers and relocates them to a safe area outside the boundaries of the estate. It’s safe and effective, and those who encounter them never even realize they’ve been turned away.”

Evangeline exchanged a quick glance with Sebastian. “It... really wasn’t as complicated as you think,” she began carefully. “The first ward required me to be a Muldoon, so that was simple enough. Holding Sebastian’s hand gave him access as well.”

“The second ward,” Evangeline continued, “obviously it blocked traditional magic, but it didn’t account for ancient magic. It was easy enough for me to clear the fog once we figured that out."

Annalise’s brows rose in intrigue as she returned with a parchment and inkwell in hand, but she said nothing, letting the conversation flow.

"As for the third," Evangeline’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “I’ve seen similar enchantments before. Just needed to find a weak spot in the lattice.”

The room went still for a moment as the weight of her explanation settled. The three brothers exchanged a look, and Percival’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

“Cursebreaker?” Cassian asked finally.

Evangeline tilted her head, her lips twitching with faint amusement. “In training,” she admitted. “But yes.”

Benedict let out a low chuckle, his expression one of approval. “That certainly explains it."

Sebastian took the parchment and quill from Annalise, nodding his thanks before turning his attention back to the Muldoons. “Alright,” he said. “Since neither of them are Muldoon cursebreakers, what’s the easiest way for Anne and Ominis to get here?”

Cassian gave him a small, approving smile. “Simple enough,” he said. “They can use the Floo Network. We have a hearth connected to it.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "You go through all that trouble with the wards but you're connected to the Floo?"

Cassian let out a low chuckle, the sound joined by Percival and Benedict.

“Yes, Mr. Sallow,” Cassian said, his voice tinged with amusement. “We’re connected to the Floo, we are civilized. But we change the hearth name regularly."

“And we don’t make a habit of giving the name out freely,” Benedict added, his expression turning serious. “It’s a well-guarded secret. One slip could compromise the entire estate.”

Sebastian considered this for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he weighed their words. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice even. “What’s the name now?”

Percival glanced at Cassian, who gave a brief nod. “For the time being, it’s ‘Wisteria Hall,’” Percival said.

Sebastian nodded, jotting down the name on the parchment. “Good. I’ll make sure Ominis and Anne know exactly what to do. Anything else they need to be aware of?”

Cassian shook his head. “The Floo will bring them directly to the main receiving hall. We’ll be here to greet them and guide them the rest of the way.”

Satisfied, Sebastian finished writing the letter and folded it neatly. “I’ll send this off now,” he said, his tone brisk as he stepped toward the nearest window.

Evangeline watched Sebastian cross the room, his movements purposeful as he folded the letter. The flickering firelight caught his silhouette, highlighting the tension in his posture as he prepared to send the message that could change everything. A quiet sense of gratitude bloomed in her chest, swelling with every passing moment.

This entire encounter had gone so differently than she had expected.

She had entered the Muldoon manor braced for conflict, her mind filled with visions of cold, calculating relatives who would judge her unworthy of their name. She had imagined herself walking into a lion’s den—facing accusations, condescension, or, worse, hostility. Instead, she had found warmth. Acceptance. A family that wasn’t perfect but was trying to be better.

They had kept her mother’s memory alive, protecting her belongings, her photographs, her stories. They had stood against their own parents’ cruelty and chosen to honor Rowena in their own way. That wasn’t what Evangeline had expected. Not at all.

And now there was hope.

Hope that the Muldoons might be the family she had always dreamed of—the kind who valued her for who she was, not for her blood or her magic. Hope that they would not only accept but support her and Sebastian’s relationship. And for the first time, Evangeline dared to believe that her and Sebastian’s love wouldn’t be overshadowed by societal expectations. That they could finally shed the weight of judgment and whispers, the disapproving headlines in the Daily Prophet, and the endless speculation about her future.

And then there was the matter of Noctivus. A problem that had unknowingly loomed over them for far too long. If the Muldoons were as resourceful as they seemed—if they truly could help her and her friends confront him—then this nightmare might finally end.

Her gaze drifted to Cassian, Benedict, Percival, who were quietly discussing strategy with their wives near the door, their tones low but determined. Annalise had perched herseelf in the rocking chair, swinging her legs idly as she listened, her bright eyes darting between her family members. They all looked so... normal. Ordinary, even.

They weren’t monsters. They weren’t untouchable elites who saw her as a tool or an outsider. They were just... people. People who had made mistakes, certainly, but people who wanted to make things right.

Her chest tightened as the realization washed over her. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel like an orphan. She felt like she belonged.

Sebastian turned back toward her, the letter now secured on the leg of a snowy white owl as it took off into the night. Sebastian's sharp dark eyes softened as they met hers, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. It wasn’t just reassurance in his gaze—it was trust. And love.

Evangeline smiled back, the weight in her chest easing as the warmth of his presence steadied her. Together, they would face whatever came next. Together, they would protect their friends, each other, and the life they were building.

And for the first time in a long while, together didn’t feel like such an impossible dream. It felt like a promise.

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[antaxzantax]

Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 63 (End Chapter)

Summary:

Spencer mansion Incident. Raccoon City Incident.

1

John opened the lab door. The card slipped from his sweaty hand. With his other hand, he wiped his forehead, pearly with tiny droplets that fell in abundance from the line of his forehead.

I was on the verge of a panic attack.

John ran to the lab's central terminal and entered the password.

“Ada”.

The remembrance of that name comforted him, but he had no time to think of his girlfriend. In that instant, a single word had congested his brain: Tyrant.

John checked the readings that were being displayed on the cathode-ray monitor. One of these readings stood out as anomalous.

He feared the worst.

John, trembling, approached the compartment where the last of the T-virus samples were kept.

I didn't want to see inside. I didn't want to.

But he had to do it. As chief of the Arklay laboratory, he had that responsibility.

John slowly raised the lid of the compartment.

First: joy. All the glass containers were intact. Then: horror.

One of the containers had broken in half and the liquid it once contained had leaked out of the drain used to clean the containers.

The same drain that connected directly to the Spencer Manor's closed circuit sewage system.

John walked away from the compartment and sat back in his chair with a blank mind.

He didn't know what to do.

2

The Arklay lab director looked down on John as if he had committed the crime.

John pondered the possibility that the container had broken during transport to the lab, and that there must have been someone supervising the transport.

The director of the Arklay laboratory reproached him for his alleged negligence and scoffed at John's excuses, as the fault had been John's alone.

John defended himself: understaffing and the disgraceful quality of the material were to blame.

The director of the Arklay laboratory invited him to resign if he was so dissatisfied.

John insisted that an urgent inspection of the pipes should be carried out to see how far the virus had reached. The situation was critical.

The Arklay lab director shrugged and said, “Write up a report and send it to Chicago headquarters, and they will notify the owner of the facility of your negligence.”

3

John picked up the phone in his office and dialled the number of the underground laboratory in Raccoon City.

“Come on. Come on, let's go. Come on, let's go.”

“Underground laboratory. Who's calling?”

“John... John. Chief of the Arklay lab. This is an emergency! I need you to put me through to Dr. Alexia Ashford and Dr. William Birkin immediately!”

Pause.

“I'm sorry, but both doctors are not available at the moment. What do you want?”

“A T-virus leak at Spencer Mansion! There is a potential T-virus leak at Arklay!”

Pause.

“Are you sure about what you are saying?”

“Of course I'm sure, for God's sake! One of the containers is broken and its contents have spilled down the drain! I urgently need to speak to the chief researchers at the underground laboratory to organise a contingency plan! Where are they?!”

“Have you spoken to the laboratory director?”

“God... Of course I've spoken to him!”

“And what did he order you to do?”

“Have him send a report to Chicago. But, damn it, it's an emergency!”

“Follow the director's instructions.”

“Look, I don't underestimate anyone, but the situation is critical!”

“Act in accordance with the orders given.”

“But... Fuck!”

The underground laboratory hung up.

John punched the table.

4

Oswell was called at midnight, when he was entertaining himself by re-watching film classics such as Zulu. This time, however, he was watching the film with his daughter Alexandra in an attempt to pass on some of the indomitable English spirit.

Oswell paused the tape. Alex stood up and answered the call but then turned and handed the receiver to Oswell.

“Who is it?” Oswell asked.

“Alexia. It is urgent.”

Oswell put the earpiece to his ear.

“What is it, Lexia?”

Alex approached Oswell to try to listen to what Alexia was saying.

“Oswell, there's been a T-virus leak at Spencer mansion,” said Alexia.

Oswell raised his eyebrows. Alex tried to put a hand on her father's knee, but he slapped it away. Oswell slouched back in his seat, visibly disturbed.

“What do you mean there's been a leakage of the T-virus? I hope you're not playing a joke on me, princess, because you know I've been in very poor health lately.”

“The last shipment of samples to the laboratory. One of the containers must have been damaged during transport, and broke when it was deposited in the compartment. The T-virus spilled down the drain. It is not known how far it got, but it is very likely that in transit through the pipes it leaked into the mansion's drinking water tank.”

A shared warehouse, by the way, from the laboratory to the mansion. A depot, Oswell reminded himself, that had not been renovated since the opening of the country house. A depot that was working in fits and starts, and thanks to the power of God manifested in the many repairs and alterations that had been made to it, instead of simply replacing it. A tank that, despite being clearly inadequate for the laboratory that was later annexed, Oswell did not feel like changing because it still worked, and that was enough.

Oswell blanched. Alex leaned back on the opposite end of the sofa to stare at her father. Oswell was strangling the dressing gown with his free hand and clenching his newly whitened teeth tightly. Alex had learned the hard way that her father hated out of control and things done wrong.

“Who is responsible?” Spencer asked.

“John. He tried to contact us, but we were busy with your favour,” Alexia replied.

“Yes, that is more important.”

“Do you want me to settle this matter?” proposed Alexia.

“No. No. Don't waste your time. I'll take care of this.”

“Avise my father?”

“I'll do it. Any other questions?”

“No, that's all.”

“OK, thanks for the heads up. Call me for anything you need. Bye.”

Oswell handed the phone back to Alex. Alex accepted it with surprise.

“Aren't you going to call Alexander?”

“No. Tomorrow I will speak to the director of Arklay. I take no responsibility for anyone's incompetence. I know how those pipes work. The virus, if it still exists as a virus, won't have got very far.”

Alex was surprised by Oswell's exaggerated indifference.

“You don't even want me to leave a message on Sasha's answering machine...”

“Alexandra, stop it. Arklay is my property. I decide what goes on in that place.” Oswell smoothed his dressing gown calmly. “Put the tape back on,” he ordered.

“The command is at your fingertips.”

Oswell looked at Alex angrily.

“Play the film, my child.” Oswell insisted with commanding diction.

Sometimes Alex hated it, but she got up and pressed the button on the player. She hated it more than she would ever be able to admit, but she needed it.

She needed it as a safeguard against the possibility of a miserable life.

5

Alexia knocked on the door.

“Go ahead.”

Alexia accessed the office of the psychologist assigned to the underground lab. William and Alexia came to her to cope with the stress of their latest project and other minor unfinished business.

“How are you? Have you finished work for the day?” The psychologist asked Alexia to sit in an armchair opposite her.

Alexia hung the lab coat on the coat rack. The psychologist put her cup of tea and a glass of water on the coffee table for Alexia. Alexia sat down in the armchair opposite the psychologist. The unusual pallor of her skin contrasted with the dark dark circles that had appeared under her watery eyes.

“How are you feeling, Alexia?”

“I don't know,” Alexia replied quietly.

“Are you resting as I recommended?”

“I don't. I don't rest.”

“Why not, Alexia? What's stopping you from resting?”

“Myself.”

“Self-demanding?”

“No... To remember.”

The psychologist drank from her cup.

“What do you remember?” continued the psychologist.

“Myself.” Alexia settled back in the armchair. “Finally, I've remembered what I couldn't remember.”

“The two years you spent in Antarctica?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you remember?”

Alexia sank into the armchair.

“Pain, but also ambition. What I felt was real ambition.” Alexia's voice grew louder. The psychologist shifted uneasily in her chair. “That's what I lost with the T-Veronica. Ambition.”

The psychologist finished her tea.

“It took me fifteen years to regain my ambition,” Alexia concluded.

“It's about this new project, isn't it?”

Alexia nodded.

“You will honour the favour, won't you?”

Alexia did not respond. The psychologist shuddered.

6

John asked for the day off. With the chief researcher out of the way, the Arklay lab director removed the damaged container.

Facility technicians discovered that the T-virus had infected the mansion's tap water.

The director ordered silence and informed Spencer.

7

Alexander and Alfred drank their tenth round of beer while Derek busied himself manning the radio. The tent smelled of ash, petrol and artillery fire. The military campaign in Edonia had been a success, and Alexander had been keen for Alfred to accompany him during the completion of the operation.

The biological weapons did their job: total annihilation. While the Cerbers and Hunters broke through the enemy ranks, Alexander, Alfred and Derek enjoyed finishing off the remaining targets in the rear. Alfred had not lost his touch and showed his father a couple of knife tricks that the Bolshevik commanding Rockfort had taught him. Derek, for his part, accompanied them on the hunt.

Alexander, drunk, shouted an expletive. Alfred, also drunk, cheered him on, laughing at the joke and adding more insults. The two of them banged on the table, smashed glasses on the floor, and generally said some nonsense that embarrassed Derek.

“You know what the best thing about fucking a man is?” said Alexander.

“I know, I fucked one,” Alfred replied.

“And you didn't like it. You only like pussy.” Alexander uncorked a third of a beer with his teeth. “You're just like your grandfather. He tasted cock at school, too, but he only cared about pussy.”

“The pussies are pretty.”

“You're a pussy expert, son.”

“I have a PhD in pussy.”

Alexander and Alfred laughed in unison. Derek found himself unable to handle the embarrassment.

“We all come out of pussy,” Alexander reflected. “Have you ever seen your sister's pussy?”

“I was born seeing my sister's pussy, dad.”

“It's true. You were born to be straight. You can't be gay having been born at the same time as a hottie like your sister.”

“You're a fucking faggot pig, dad.”

“I like cocks and pussies alike. You were born to perpetuate our bloodline, son. I was born to enjoy sex.”

“To suckle.”

Derek came out of the tent to get some fresh air.

“Couple of assholes,” he whispered.

As he was smoking a cigarette in the vicinity, the radio officer approached him.

“Mr Simmons, Oswell Ernest Spencer would like to speak to Mr Ashford. He says it is urgent.”

“Put me through.”

8

“Osweeel…” Alexander slurred the last syllable.

“Sasha? What's wrong with you? Are you drunk or what?”

“Perhaps.”

“What do you mean by perhaps, you bastard. How many have you got on you?”

“Ten.”

“Fair. We have a problem.”

“Probleeem…”

“A T-virus infection has broken out in Spencer mansion. Some moron named John broke one of the T-virus containers in the compartment and it has leaked into the running water. Arklay's director has alerted me that they have already located a potential first infectee. I need you at my manor house in Essex right now.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Dam...”

“And bring your son. We're going to need reinforcements.”

They hung up.

“I'll stay in Edonia," said Derek.”

9

May 9th, 1998

Last night I played poker with Scott, the guard, Alias and Steve, the investigator.

Steve was very lucky, but I think he was cheating.

You sack of shit!

May 10th, 1998

Today a senior investigator asked me to take care of the new monster. It's like a gorilla but without skin.

I have been told to give them live meat.

I threw a pig at them and they played with it... tearing off its legs and gutting it before eating.

May 11th, 1998

At about 5 a.m. Scott woke me up.

He was wearing a protective suit that looked like a space suit.

He told me to put one on too. I think something has happened in the basement lab. I'm not surprised, researchers never rest, even at night.

May 12th, 1998

I've been wearing this uncomfortable suit since yesterday. It's wet and my skin is very itchy.

As revenge, I didn't feed the dogs today. Now I feel better.

May 13th, 1998

I've been to the infirmary; my back is swollen and itchy.

They put a very big bandage on me, and the doctor told me that I don't have to wear the space suit anymore.

I guess I'll be able to sleep well tonight.

May 14th, 1998

When I woke up in the morning, I realised that I had another blister on my foot. I dragged it when I went to the dogs' cage.

They have been quiet since morning, which is very strange. It turns out that some of them have escaped.

If the big bosses find out, I'll be in trouble.

May 15th, 1998

Even though I wasn't feeling well, I decided to go and see Nancy. It's my first day off in a long time. But the guard at the gate stopped me.

They say the company has given orders that no one is to go out. I can't even make a phone call.

What kind of a joke is this?!

May 16th, 1998

I heard that an investigator who tried to flee last night was killed. My whole body burns and itches at night.

While I was scratching my arm, a piece of flesh fell off. What the hell is happening to me?

May 19th, 1998

Fever gone but itchy. Hungry and eat doggy food. Itchy itchy Scott came. Ugly face so killed him. Tasty.

4

Itchy.

Tasty.

10

Raccoon Times – May 27th, 1998

Animal attack?

Mutilated woman.

20 May. At 10 p.m., a passer-by discovered the body of a 20-year-old woman on the west bank of the Marble River in the Cider District of Raccoon City.

The amputation of one leg and both arms has led police to theorise that it was a bear or another very strong animal.

Police believe she was attacked while in the Arklay Mountains. So far there are no clues as to the woman's identity.

11

May 21th, 1998

Four days have passed since the accident and Plant 42 is growing in an unprecedented way. The Tyrant virus has infected it differently from the others, so that it shows a unique shape in addition to its size.

Seeing how it behaves, it is difficult to determine what kind of plant it was originally.

Plant 42 collects food in two ways.

The first is through the roots that reach down to the basement.

Right after the accident, a scientist went mad and broke the water tank in the basement. Now it is full of water.

It is evident that certain chemicals were mixed with the water and possibly caused the incredible growth of Plant 42.

Another part of the 42nd floor has grown through the ventilation ducts and hangs from the ceiling of the first floor.

This part of the plant has tendrils and bulbs which it uses as a secondary method of obtaining the necessary nutrients.

When it senses movement, Plant 42 throws its tendrils over its prey and immobilises it. It then sucks the blood out of its victim using the suction cups on the back of the tendrils.

It also appears to have some intelligence.

It has been seen using tendrils to close doors when capturing prey or when it enters a resting state, to prevent attacks from the outside.

Several staff members have already fallen victim to it.

Henry Sarton

12

A welter of papers lay concentrated on the long dining room table. The papers had been ripped from the shelves and dumped in the pile like corpses in a mass grave.

Spencer was rereading a file, while Alexander was rereading a memo. Alfred had ventilated the first pack of cigarettes at, and Alex was nodding in his chair from exhaustion and boredom.

To the joy and dismay of both presidents, the T-virus had wiped out a third of the Spencer mansion staff in just two weeks.

The infected had become zombies, as they were nicknamed; those infected from the infected had also become zombies; and those who were definitely dead were decomposing at the same rate as their infected comrades.

Spencer mansion had fallen.

The homonymous owner immediately ordered the closure of the cottage and the establishment of a security perimeter around the premises to prevent intruders from entering and leaving.

As soon as Alexander and Alfred landed in England, Oswell led them to the Umbrella archive he kept at his manor house to find out whether the infection was intentional or accidental. On the other hand, the Arklay lab director informed them about the mutilated bodies that had been found in the mountains. Spencer ruled out attributing responsibility to a biological weapon because he was confident in the effectiveness of the manor's security measures.

The files revealed that the transport of the crashed sample was carried out from Sheena Island by a company owned by a hippie cousin of Alexander's that Alexander subcontracted in 1988. Alexander called his hippie cousin at Edinburgh, but he justified himself by saying that he was merely following the instructions given by the director and chief researcher at the Arklay laboratory, who had been hired by Oswell.

Oswell was angry with Edinburgh's cousin, but he was not to blame.

And then Alex made a comment that infuriated Oswell: it was his fault because he knew something like this would happen and allowed it to happen.

Oswell restrained himself, but the looks of disgust and hatred he gave his daughter made Alexander and Alfred uncomfortable, and they were merely ironing out the friction between their hosts as best they could.

Ultimately, Oswell settled the issue of culpability with a final solution: exploiting the incident for financial gain and a wealth of invaluable knowledge about the effectiveness of biological weapons in combat.

Edonia had tested them on a small scale and in an open field; Spencer mansion would test them on a larger scale and in an enclosed area.

“Edonia's success would be replicated at Spencer mansion, wouldn't it, Alexander,” said Oswell.

Alexander, who exchanged a brief conversation with his son, nodded.

“I will accompany you,” said Alexander.

“Alexandra, you come with me too,” said Oswell.

Alexandra shrugged her shoulders. Alfred wiped his wedding ring on the sleeve of his jacket.

13

June 3rd, 1998

Dear Alma:

The fact that you are receiving this letter fills me with joy and also sadness. I couldn't even talk to you because of that idiot.

Alma, stay calm and read this.

I think I told you that I was transferred to a pharmaceutical laboratory. I was selected through a headhunter.

Last month there was an accident and the virus we were studying escaped. All my infected colleagues are dead. Well, to be precise, they have become the living dead.

They are still moving. Right now, a few are knocking on my door. But there is no trace of intelligence in their eyes.

That damned virus wipes out the victim's humanity. Love, joy, sadness, fear... All erased.

And, Alma, also the memories of the days I spent by your side...

Yes, I am infected.

I have done my best but I have only been able to delay it for a few days.

What scares me the most is that every day I forget something more about you.

So I have chosen a quiet death and not to become the living dead.

In one hour I will sleep forever. I hope you understand my decision...

Farewell and always yours,

Martin Crackhorn

14

June 8th, 1998

My dearest Ada:

By the time you read this letter, I will no longer be the person you knew. Today I checked my test result and, as I suspected, I have tested positive.

I feel on the verge of madness at the thought of my imminent end. I would give anything not to have to become one of them.

As far as I know, you are not infected.

I sincerely hope you are not the last person alive in here, but if you are, collect the material from the AV room.

Then activate the self-destruct system in the generator room and flee from here. Do your best to make the whole incident public.

If things are working normally, you should be able to open the locks with the security system. I have set up the terminal in the small security room so that you can access the system with my name and your name as the password.

You will need one more key to open the lock on the door on level two of the basement where the AV room is located.

As a security measure, I have encoded it in an X-ray. I know you well and I am sure you will be able to decipher it without any problems.

There is only one thing left for me... the last thing I ask of you. I hope you never have to see me in this state, but if you do, I beg you to put an end to my suffering.

I hope you understand.

Thank you, Ada.

Always yours,

John

15

Raccoon Times - June 16th, 1998

Monsters in the Arklay Mountains?

There are many witnesses who claim to have seen monsters in the Arklay Mountains. These ‘monsters’ are the size of large dogs and are usually in packs, like wolves. They could be wild dogs, but the ‘monsters’ are very fierce and resistant to attack.

It is said that they do not bother humans unless provoked, so it is advisable to stay away from the Arklay Mountains while this matter is being resolved.

But for all you thrill seekers out there, this is your chance for some adventure!

16

The Marble River flowed serenely under the bridge. Passers-by moved like rows of ants behind him. He had leaned on the railing to watch the twilight horizon.

“William.”

Wesker called out to him a few steps away.

“Albert.”

William nodded and then they shook hands. Albert imitated William's posture, both leaning on the railing.

“I was afraid I wouldn't be able to recognise you,” said William.

“I haven't changed much, and I trusted your good memory.”

William smiled and coughed. Albert put on a pair of aviator sunglasses. William, dazzled by the low position of the sun, regretted not having brought his own.

“I don't know where to start. It's been like living in a nightmare. A bloody nightmare,” said William after a long moment of silence.

“You haven't done too badly. You're still alive,” Albert commented.

“The living dead, precisely.”

“I admit I underestimated you. You've come further than anyone else.”

“Far away... She destroyed my life!” William was upset, but Albert grabbed his arm to reassure him.

“But I see you retain your naivety. You're still a mama's boy.”

“Have you come to humiliate me? It won't be the worst thing that has happened to me in the last few years.”

“Relax. I'm just curious to know what happened to you.”

“Well... Alexia set me up. She destroyed my precious G-virus. It caused me to attack her. She set me up again. Alexander appeared and smashed my face against a metal table. Then the two of them set a third trap. Alexia started talking to me, while her father spied on me with eavesdroppers in my house. Then Alexia invited me to Ashford Hall. I ended up meeting her fantastic family” William emphasised ‘fantastic’. “I escaped from the mansion. Alexander kidnapped me and locked me up in a mental institution. He tortured me a bit and subdued me. Then I escaped with Alexia from the asylum and ended up in a monastery in Quebec. From the monastery we went to a small town called Silent Hill. In that small town, the two of us locked ourselves in the same flat to say... to talk about things... After the confinement, a cultist kidnapped me to make drugs for him. Then Alexia had a revelation and showed up with an assault rifle at the church where I was being held. Over 30 casualties in one sitting. We fled Silent Hill and drove non-stop to Raccoon City. Back in the city, we first lived in an abandoned building, then in a house Alexia bought with what was left over from the million dollars she stole from Alexander's safe. In the house, I dedicated myself to surviving. Alexia assembled a nuclear bomb casing. After assembling the nuclear bomb, Alexia had a second release and dragged me into the city's underground scene. I drank in dive bars with punks, goths and other indescribable people. Alexia sang at a concert of what did she call it? Black Metal or whatever. I got depressed... Well, yes, I got depressed, and Alexia convinced me to...”

“Blow up the city?” said Albert.

“I turned up at home and forced Annette to leave. I haven't seen her since... And I never will again.”

“What happened next?”

“We blew up the city... His father picked us up by helicopter. Alexander apologised and made me his protégé. I spent a year in therapy in Scotland. Then I went back to the States. I left Umbrella. I locked myself in a shitty flat. I cried. Alexia reappeared. And now... I've just finished developing a new virus...”

Albert put his glasses back on.

“What virus...” he whispered.

“The best virus ever developed... An unpublished variant of the Progenitor. We've dubbed it G-Veronica, but the name is crap and we're using it on a provisional basis. It's a favor Spencer asked of Alexia.”

“Strange favour.”

“The old fucker wants to be immortal or some bullshit like that. He's probably gone insane, I don't know, but he wants to be our first experimental subject.”

“Are you going to let that old man steal your shiny new virus?”

Albert scrutinised William through his sunglasses.

“Stealing...”

“Do you think Spencer deserves the power of your new virus?”

William bit his lip.

“No...”

“I worked for Spencer and with his daughter Alexandra. He entrusted me with the position of security chief at the Arklay lab. I've met with him several times. I know what it's like, and it's disappointing.”

“There's a T-virus leak on Arklay, how come you're here?”

“Spencer reinstated me as captain of the STARS.”

“And what are you doing there? You're better than that!” William raised his voice above what was tolerable for both of them.

“I'm in the STARS because Spencer is a... disappointing being.”

“What are you going to do?” William asked.

“You've been lucky with Alexia. Don't waste it.”

“I don't understand what you're getting at.”

“Do you really want Spencer to be the one to enjoy the power of your new virus?”

“Why? Who else?”

Albert sat up.

“Myself.”

17

“Alexia.”

William sat next to Alexia in the lab.

“Yes?” said Alexia.

“I met Albert yesterday afternoon... He's been working for Spencer.”

“Yes, I know. He's in STARS.”

“I told him about our virus...”

Alexia waited expectantly for William to continue.

“Uhm... He told me... Phew... that he wants to be the first to test our virus.”

Alexia looked at William.

“Give it to him,” said Alexia.

“But the favour with Spencer?”

“Better him than Spencer.”

“Well... I don't know... I thought favours were very important for your family.”

“One condition: you are alone in this. I'll pretend I've never seen you.”

“Seriously...”

“Spencer is not worthy of his power.”

There was no doubt in Alexia's eyes.

“All right,” said William, and rose from his chair. “It's fine,” he repeated.

“Alfred is going to be a father.”

William turned to look at Alexia.

“Congratulations. You are going to be an aunt.”

18

William received in his mailbox the invoice for the last transaction with his law firm.

He had officially divorced Annette.

At William's request, there would be no joint custody. The best thing for Sherry is that she would never hear from her biological father again.

That was his revelation.

19

June 22th, 1998. 21:30.

I had to do it. We've been running away from these things, helping each other to stay alive, but Robert has started to show symptoms. He had to.

Those damn things are evil. I have no choice. He would have done the same if he had been in my place. After I put him out of his misery, I had to leave him in the service. I'm probably the last one left alive...

How on earth did this happen? I will never forgive myself for taking part in this project. I guess I've dug my own grave. There is no escape from this insane house. It's only a matter of time.

Everything is ready. I just need a bit of courage to do what needs to be done.

I don't even want to think about all the things I've left half done, but better this way than waiting to become one of them. Understand me and let me finish my days as a human being.

Linda, please forgive me...

20

Raccoon Times - July 9th, 1998

Mystery in the Arklay Mountains!

Roads closed.

Due to the disasters in the Arklay Mountains, the authorities have decided to close the roads leading to the foothills of the Arklay Mountains.

In addition, the Raccoon police have begun searching for missing persons with the help of STARS.

They expect difficulties due to the extent of the Arklay Mountains and the dense forests in the area.

Reports also continue to come in of sightings of grotesque monsters in the mountains.

21

“I trust you, son. You're my best man,” Oswell said through the phone. “Do it and I'll be forever in your debt.”

“I will.”

“I trust you, son.”

22

July 22nd, 1998. 2:13.

X-Day is approaching. Implement the following procedures diligently in less than a week:

Attract the attention of the STARS corps to the farm and change the combat data of the bio-weapon so that it kills them.

Collect two embryos from each of the mutant samples, with the exception of Tyrant. Discard Tyrant.

Ensure that the entire Arklay laboratory is dismantled and destroyed, including staff and experimental animals. Make their deaths look like an accident.

When you have complied with these lines of action, inform the central office, which will provide you with further instructions.

If, for any reason, you are unable to carry out the instructions by the deadline, please report it immediately. In case of an emergency situation, please contact extension 5691.

Good luck.

Umbrella Head Office,

Umbrella, Inc.

23

A message on the answering machine in his flat.

“At two o'clock in the evening at the lookout point.”

William.

24

The lookout was situated on the top of a gentle hill from which the jagged line of the Arklay Mountains could be seen.

He felt his heart throbbing in his eardrums.

He had done so.

Finally, he had done it.

He didn't think twice. As soon as he opened the compartment with the only existing test tube of the virus, Alexia turned off the security camera monitors.

William fled the underground laboratory like an exhalation without looking back.

Even in that supposedly safe place, he couldn't figure out why he had done it.

Maybe Alexia and Albert were right. Maybe he owed it to Albert. Maybe he had done it of his own free will. In any case: he had done it.

He hoped Albert would turn up before long, because he had to.

A car parked outside the lookout point.

Albert ran to meet him. William pulled a metal box out of his backpack.

Albert recognised that type of box.

William held it out to him.

“Try it,” said William with an affectionate half-smile.

Albert took the box and put it in his trousers.

“Thank you. Go home.”

Albert turned to leave.

“Albert,” William called.

Albert paused.

“Thank you too.”

Albert resumed his march.

25

The contents of the flask glittered in the darkness like a vein of gold.

Albert sat in the only armchair in his flat to contemplate this marvel. He held his unloaded, regulation pistol to his head in thought.

His last chance. He could die, disappear, but he preferred it to being nothing.

He did not want to be nothing.

He did not want to be like his relatives.

The flat was transformed into a desolate New York City wasteland.

A blond-haired boy in a worn jumper and torn trousers had climbed atop a mountain of rubble to see further than his small body could go.

He always wanted to look beyond, but his personal circumstances tried to hinder his journey to the top in every conceivable way.

He was born in a New York slum flat to a family of Yugoslavian immigrants who adopted the surname Wesker because they were ashamed of their origins. As the youngest of five siblings, little Albert dealt with the worst manifestations of human nature from an early age.

His mother ignored him. His father, a hard-core alcoholic, beat him. His brothers used him to earn a few quid. He was put on the street corner to beg, and little Albert would stay up late with nothing better to do than stare at passers-by who ignored his existence as they walked down Wall Street.

He was nothing.

But between beatings and gloomy afternoons outdoors, little Albert never stopped imagining what it would be like to be like them, the ones who walked around in expensive suits and gold watches, the ones who didn't beg or eat yesterday's leftovers.

The depression of the 1970s completely destroyed his precarious family. His father, unemployed. His mother, unemployed. His older brother, in prison. His older sister, pregnant and on the run. His other sister, whereabouts unknown.

He joined a youth gang with his other older brother -the only alternative for a miserable, illiterate young man like him.

He was arrested with his brother for fatally beating up a rival gang member.

To save himself from ending up in juvie or jail, he ratted out his older brother as the cause of the beating.

His older brother was imprisoned, and he was sent to a psychiatric hospital for adolescents.

Albert endured the abuse and drugs as best he could. Fortunately, his first chance came when the new director of the institution discovered in Albert an unfathomable hidden potential.

The headmaster detected in this wasted young man the intelligence of a genius. In just a few months, he had gone from being illiterate to surpassing the reading and writing skills of a university professor. However, as intelligent as he was, he would return to his former way of life as soon as he was out. The director of the psychiatric hospital suggested he join the army.

So he did. He enlisted in the army at the age of fourteen. At West Point, he got his second biggest break: a Columbia University headhunter spotted him. On a scholarship from the university, he left West Point after two years to pursue what he loved most: science.

Because he was a minor, he was forced to return to his old home. His mother had left with another man. All his siblings were absent. His father was all he had left. Albert would not let that languid dispossession ruin what little life he had managed to build.

Albert hit his father. He hit him back angrily with every blow he had inflicted.

He locked him in the bathroom, as he had done with Albert.

He insulted him and threw objects at him, as he had done with his younger son.

Albert abused him until his father died from the beatings.

Albert dismembered his body and threw the remains into the house of an African-American bachelor who lived in his neighbourhood.

The legacy of Jim Crow kicked in and the African-American was sentenced to death.

Albert fought loneliness by concentrating on his studies.

One summer day, he received a letter.

Umbrella Pharmaceuticals.

Signed: Oswell E. Spencer, President and CEO.

He finished his degree, packed his meagre belongings and left.

He looked at Spencer because he saw in him what he had dreamed of being.

But Spencer let him down.

Spencer did not aspire to see beyond the horizon of himself. He only wanted to miraculously save himself and extend what he already had, but there was no transcendence in what he did; he harboured no ambition to be something more than he already was. For what, after all; why should a man who possessed everything aspire to transcendence.

Albert had made a mistake. However, a prejudice was easier for him to resolve than a bad decision, and there were only two solutions before him: prevail or die.

Since he did not want to die, he would prevail. He would use the virus during his raid on Spencer mansion. When, did not know. He would carry it as a kind of emergency measure. Instead of shooting himself, he would take his chances with the virus.

That is what I would do.

Prevail or die.

26

Albert injected himself with the virus all at once. The events at Spencer mansion had left him exhausted and on the verge of death on several occasions. He risked exposure for the murder of Enrico Marini and was wasting his time with Barry Burton.

In the end, the mission had failed, because he had not bothered to do his job either, and had hopelessly betrayed Spencer. He himself had backed himself into the depths of a blind alley. Deep down, and with no way out in sight. Contrary to the cliché, there was no light at the end of the tunnel. He could only get lost in the darkness and walk in a straight line with no direction, so he injected himself with the virus.

There was no telling how long it would take for it to begin to take effect, whether a few seconds or a few hours. Either way, he tossed the empty metal box into a hidden corner of the central lab, behind the capsule where the Tyrant T-102 was dozing. He picked up his pistol and headed for the lab exit to activate the self-destruct system and escape the mansion.

Albert went out into the corridor.

Steps.

Chris Redfield.

Albert drew his gun and let Chris bump into him as he walked down the corridor. Rebecca Chambers also stuck her head out.

“Chris, as my subordinate, you have a great talent.” Albert feigned confidence and control when, in reality, his body was seething with stress at not knowing when the virus would begin to devour his body.

“I would never work for a company like Umbrella,” said Chris with a certain smugness. At first, Albert had found him irritating because of his cocky, naïve attitude and his tendency to overstep authority, but now he hated him with every fibre of his being. He had underestimated him, as he had underestimated the rest of the surviving members of the STARS, but he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. “And, Wesker, you were under Umbrella's orders.”

“What do you mean?” Albert wanted to end the encounter any way he could, but he couldn't risk it.

“Since when are you an Umbrella agent, and a traitor to the STARS?” said Chris. Rebecca looked at him with both surprise and deep disappointment. Chris didn't seem to mind Albert pointing a gun at him, as he dared to question his captain with a calmness that infuriated Albert.

“No, you're wrong. I used to work for Umbrella. But now I'm ready to take on anything, like getting rid of STARS,” he confessed with a degree of conviction as if God had given him the commandments.

“The worst possible situation has occurred!” Chris shook his head as if scolding his captain. Rebecca fell silent. “An accident in the experiment released a virus, a biological weapon, that contaminated the lab!” Chris had no idea.

“No, the worst was the Tyrant virus. I lost part of the STARS team because of it,” he lied.

“You killed them with your bare hands!” Chris exclaimed. “Did you kill Enrico?”

“Really?” Rebecca added.

“Yes, like this.” His patience was exhausted.

He shot Rebecca.

“Rebecca!” Chris shouted.

“Don't move!” commanded Albert. “If you move a hair, I'll kill you.” The time had come to get rid of that asshole. “Chris, I want to show you something. Now, walk.”

Albert forced Chris into the laboratory. Chris reluctantly complied. Albert led him to the T-102 capsule. Standing in front of the capsule, Chris fell silent. Albert gave him a shove in the direction of the monster. Chris took a step back. The creature glowed inside the capsule, oblivious to what was going on around it.

“This is...?!” Chris was hallucinating.

“Exactly! This is the supreme life form. Tyrant.”

Albert lowered his weapon and made his way to the control panel of the capsule. The supreme life form that would annihilate the STARS forever.

Chris burst out laughing.

“Chris...” Albert controlled himself with all the strength in his being. He pointed the gun at the STARS member again. “Stop!”

“Wesker, you're pathetic.” Chris humiliated him. “This is your saviour? You think this ‘failure’ is going to be your saviour?”

“Find out for yourself whether Tyrant is a failure or not!”

Albert turned and initiated the bio-weapon activation sequence. The cryogenic liquid disappeared and the bio-weapon awoke. Under the watchful eyes of both men, the Tyrant broke the glass of the capsule with his hands and jumped to the ground. The Tyrant, as expected, went first to Chris. The latter tried to move away while Albert pointed the gun at him.

“Go to hell and Jill will go with you!”

But the Tyrant changed course.

“What?” He couldn't think. He didn't react.

The Tyrant raised its sharp claws. It tried to shoot.

“Not me!”

The Tyrant skewered Albert Wesker.

Albert howled in pain. The Tyrant threw him to the ground like a piece of dead meat.

Albert exhaled.

Darkness.

27

The security footage showed William Birkin leaving the laboratory at the same time that the compartment containing the only existing sample of the virus created for Oswell E. Spencer was reported to have been opened.

Spencer called the UBCS commander to his side.

“Kill William Birkin.” Commander Vladimir nodded. “Do not allow the slightest harm to be inflicted on Alexia Ashford. William Birkin is your only target.”

Alexandra Spencer rewound the tape.

“If you kill Birkin, we won't know the whereabouts of the virus.”

“Alexia will tell me,” said Spencer. “Vladimir?”

The commander left the room.

“Alexia won't defend William,” Spencer commented. “It's impossible.”

Alex raised her eyebrows in doubt.

“We don't know,” she said.

“No, she won't. Not for something like this,” Spencer countered.

“Alexia is an unintelligible being,” said Alex. “I'd be careful.”

“I've known her since she was a brat,” Spencer reaffirmed.

Alex shrugged. Alexia had betrayed Spencer, she thought to herself. She had betrayed her father right under his nose and without a second thought, without the slightest hint of regret or malice. She had simply done it.

Alex hardly knew Alexia personally, but if only she herself enjoyed similar strength of character. At least enough not to remain emotionally subservient to her biological father's authority.

28

Alexander's voice came over the speaker phone again:

“Spencer has ordered Commander Vladimir to assassinate William Birkin. I don't want you to do anything crazy. If William has to die, so be it, but I'm not going to lose you. I love you, my life. I love you with all my heart, and I could not bear your loss. Do you want me to send the Circle to take you home?”

“Dad,” said Alexia. “Take care of Spencer.”

She hung up.

29

The death squad organised by Vladimir appeared on the lab's security cameras.

“Alexia, please don't do this.”

William sat in his desk chair, pale, dead in life.

“Don't do it...” William pleaded with Alexia.

William had accepted this ultimatum as the end of his existence. He wiped his tears with the sleeve of his lab coat. Alexia looked at the monitor pointed at the bio-weapons containment cages.

“I don't want to lose my friend. Not so soon,” said Alexia.

Alexia opened the cages and deactivated the biological weapons security system.

Hunters, Lickers and Cerberus: all biological weapons went out to meet the death squad.

“William.” Alexia held out her hand for him to sit up. “Come on.”

30

Alexia and William escaped from the underground laboratory.

William drove to where Alexia directed him: an abandoned house on the outskirts of the city. Inside the dilapidated home, Alexander was waiting for them.

Alexander hugged Alexia, who hugged him back, and then nodded to William.

“I don't want to lose you.” Alexander pleaded with teary eyes.

“Take care of Spencer, dad. That's your responsibility. We'll hide out in the city until we can get our research back and disappear. I'll be fine if you hold up your end of the bargain.”

“I wish your grandfather had never associated with that man,” said Alexander.

“Let me know when the lab is clean.”

Alexander kissed his daughter on the forehead.

“Go home, you'll be safer there.”

“No, I won't be. Spencer knows us and he'll know where to look for me. Raccoon City is a safer place than the UK.” Alexander reluctantly accepted that certainty.” But there is one thing you can do to protect me.”

“What is it?”

“The keycard. Your Umbrella master key.”

Alexander pulled his wallet out of his jacket and handed his daughter one of Umbrella's two master keys: a gold card with the company logo on the front and the initials of his name on the back. Spencer possessed the second master key. Alexia kept the key card in her trousers.

“Look for Albert Wesker. If he's dead, keep the body. If he's alive, tell him we're waiting for him in Raccoon City,” Alexia asked her father.

“I will,” said Alexander.

Father and daughter embraced for the last time.

“I will pray every day that you are safe,” Alexander said goodbye.

31

Alexander appeared in the control room of Umbrella's chemical plant in Raccoon City to proceed with the reactivation of the underground laboratory's security system. According to protocol, Alexander was to use his keycard to automatically access the closed-circuit facility to reactivate the system remotely.

But Alexander did not have the keycard.

Alexander turned on the microphone to communicate with the head of security at the chemical plant:

“Close the main entrance and leave the site. We will send in an extermination team.”

32

August 11th

I finally had the chance, after centuries, to see the light of day, but it didn't cheer me up much. The boss scolded me for not attending to my duties while I was in the clock tower. One thing I still don't understand: the boss seemed to be more concerned that I was in the clock tower than that I wasn't attending to my duties. Why would I be barred from the tower anyway?

September 5th

I recently spoke to the old man who works at the scrapyard in the back. His name is Thomas. He's a quiet man and seems to love chess. He has even designed a special key and lock engraved with chess pieces for one of the doors at the dump. We've arranged to play chess tomorrow night. I keep wondering how good it will be.

One thing that has been bothering me about him is that he is always scratching himself? Does he have some kind of skin disease or is he just rude?

September 9th

Thomas was a much better player than I had imagined. I thought he was a more or less decent player, but he's done a good job of taking me down a peg or two. The only thing that I think surpasses his chess ability is his appetite. Throughout the game he talked about nothing but food. He sounded pretty healthy, but he didn't look good... I wonder if he's OK.

September 12th

He was supposed to play another game of chess with Thomas, but we had to cancel it because he hasn't been feeling very well.

He came to see me, but I told him to go and rest, because he literally looked like the living dead. He insisted he was fine, but I could tell he was in some kind of trouble. Come to think of it, I haven't been feeling too well myself lately...

33

The Jacob's Circle soldiers found him lying against the wall of a hollow. He was in a pitiful state: dirty, covered in ashes and litter, his STARS uniform in tatters and covered in blood.

“Alexia and William are in Raccoon City,” said Alexander, looking him straight in the eye. “Please rescue them.”

34

September 23th

It's over. Those Umbrella assholes have finally done it... Despite all their promises, they've ruined my city. Soon every street will be infested with zombies... I'm starting to think I might be infected myself. If that's true, I'm gonna kill the whole city!

September 24th

I have succeeded in creating confusion among the police, as I had planned. I have made sure that no one from outside will come to help. With the delays in police actions, no one will have a chance to escape alive from my city. I have personally made sure that all escape routes from inside the police station are also cut off. There are still some survivors trying to escape through the lower levels, but I will see to it that no one gets out.

September 26th

I have changed my mind about the remaining survivors. I have decided to hunt them down myself. I shot Ed in the back less than an hour ago. I watched as he writhed in pain on the ground in a pool of blood. The look on his face was absolutely exquisite. He died with his eyes wide open, looking at me. It was very nice. Is the mayor's daughter still alive? I let her escape so that I could hunt her later... I'm going to enjoy my new trophy. Yes, frozen forever in whatever pose I choose to put her in.

Brian Irons

35

September 26th

The Raccoon Police Department was unexpectedly attacked by zombies. Many have been injured and even more killed. During the attack, our communications equipment was destroyed and we no longer have contact with the outside world.

We have decided to carry out an operation with the intention of rescuing possible survivors, as well as preventing this disaster from spreading beyond Raccoon.

The details of this operation are as follows:

Safety of weapons and ammunition:

Chief Irons has expressed concern about the issue of terrorism, due to a number of unresolved incidents. On the very day of the zombie attack, we took the decision to distribute all weapons throughout the building as a temporary measure to prevent their possible capture. Unfortunately, this decision has made it extremely difficult for us to locate all the ammunition stockpiles. Recovering all this scattered ammunition has become our top priority.

Open the weapons store:

As mentioned above, it will be extremely difficult to secure all the ammunition. However, there is still a considerable supply in the underground weapons store. Unfortunately, the person in charge of the card that opens the weapons store is missing and we have not been able to find the key.

One of our switches broke during the battle and the electronic locks are not working in certain areas. Restoring power to the power room and securing those locks is a top priority.

Recorded by: David Ford

September 27th

1:00 PM. The west barricade has been breached and this was followed by another exchange. We temporarily protected the wounded in the confiscation room on the first floor. Twelve more people were wounded in the battle.

Recorded by: David Ford

Three more people died after the appearance of a hitherto unknown creature. This creature is identified as having skinless body parts and razor-like claws. However, its most distinctive feature is a spear-like tongue, capable of piercing a human torso in an instant.

The number of these creatures, as well as their provenance, remains a mystery. For now we have named this creature "licker" and are currently in the process of developing countermeasures to deal with this new threat.

36

September 28th

Early morning, 2:30 AM

Zombies invaded the operating theatre and another battle ensued. We lost four more people, including David. We are now down to four, including myself. We have not been able to secure the weapons stockpile and the hope that we will survive continues to dwindle. We are not going to last much longer....

We have agreed on a plan to escape through the sewers. There is a path that leads from the underground of the police station to the sewage collector. From there we should be able to enter the sewers. The only drawback is that there is no guarantee that the sewer is free of potential dangers.

We know our chances in the sewers are slim, but anything is better than sitting here waiting to be killed. To buy us more time, we have locked the only door leading underground, the one in the east office. We have left the key behind, in the west office, as it is unlikely that any of these creatures will be smart enough to find it and open the door.

I pray that this operations report will be of help to whoever finds it.

Recorded by: Elliot Edward

37

Zombies groaned in the alley.

William checked to make sure he had a bullet in the chamber. He was sitting on the landing of the metal staircase that connected the ground floor of the warehouse to the office upstairs. In this office, Alexia was typing on the only still-functional computer with an internet connection at her disposal.

The warehouse had not undergone the same process of ruin as the rest of the city, so the shelves remained full and there were no corpses or zombies lurking around the place. A metal container stood out as part of the quiet and orderly set-up. William tried to open it, but it was locked from the inside. He knocked gently on the door, but no one answered.

He was thirsty and had a headache. However, he could not drink from the tap, unless he wanted to gamble with the T-virus. To solve this problem, they made a point of collecting a number of sealed bottles of water, but these were becoming scarce. Luckily, no one would complain about their body odour.

Alexia left the office with her backpack on her back, pistol holstered, and a shotgun slung over her shoulder. Alexia sat on the staircase landing next to William with a notebook in which she had jotted down single sentences and a handful of numbers.

“My father replied to my email. The underground lab is open, but it will only be accessible from the police station.” William rubbed his hands together. He trusted Albert blindly. “We have to go to the station. Besides.”

“Uh?”

“Vladimir has deployed the UBCS to the city, and maybe a USS covert unit as well, but the latter is not certain. We need to avoid contact with any Umbrella group. My father has informed me that the UBCS operates a covert combat data collection agent, Nikolai Zinoviev, a friend of Vladimir. We are not to contact this subject in any way.”

“Okay.”

“The army has sealed off the entrances to the city and is shooting to kill those who escape. We are confined. The national security secretary spoke to my father on the phone. He's been asked to lead the final solution against Raccoon City. Spencer is staying out of it.”

“That's good.”

“Come on.” Alexia tapped William on the knee to get him up. “I'll follow you.”

“I don't like this tour guide position you've assigned me.”

“You are a native of the city.”

“Adopted.”

38

The body of a man in a yellow waistcoat was found at the main entrance of the police station. The man had been skewered to death by a spear or some such appendage.

William searched the body for ammunition or anything else of use.

Brad Vickers, member of the STARS.

“One of the survivors of Spencer mansion,” said Alexia.

“Surviving for this.”

William detached himself from the dead man and they advanced towards the main entrance of the Raccoon City Police Department.

39

“My brother was once stopped at this place for speeding.”

“It's not the worst thing he's done.”

The lobby of the police station was empty and silent. Alexia and William approached the reception desk and saw that the computer was on. Someone with the card of Jill Valentine, also a member of the STARS, had used it to unlock the locks on the first floor.

“She certainly didn't save any work,” William joked. “I hope she's done us a favour with the zombies too.”

“Irons' office was on the first floor, wasn't it?” asked Alexia.

“Yes, in the east room.”

“Police stations are also supposed to have a radio system.”

“It's supposed to be. What do you want it for?”

“To get back in touch with my father.”

“I don't know where there might be a radio office.”

“Neither do I.”

William smiled.

“We are lab rats, not Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Don't fuck with me, Alexia.”

40

“Still!”

Alexia and William turned around. A woman wearing a blue top, a black skirt and a long-sleeved white T-shirt tied at the waist was pointing a gun at them. She had caught them as they wandered down the corridor of the west wing of the first floor.

“Who are you?!” said the stranger.

“William, and this is Alexia. We are survivors.”

The woman lowered her gun and approached them.

“Jill Valentine. How long have you been at the police station?”

“Not much,” said Alexia.

Jill examined the luggage they were both carrying.

“You are well armed.”

“We're cautious,” said William without losing his engagingly sarcastic edge.

“Did you come in through the front door? Didn't you run into that thing?”

“What is it?” William asked.

“A huge monster in a black suit. It killed my partner, Brad Vickers, at the main entrance.”

Alexia looked sideways at William. William knew the meaning of that look: trouble.

“We are looking for a radio to contact our people,” said Alexia.

“Who are they?” Jill asked.

“My father and his people. They will help us get out of here.”

“Is your father in the military? Is he a civilian?”

“Civilian. Leads a group of survivors resisting on the outskirts of the city.”

“It's OK. There's a radio on the first floor, in the STARS office. I'll join you.”

“As you wish,” William shrugged. Jill looked at him suspiciously.

Alexia elbowed him in the side.

41

Jill Valentine led them to the STARS office. Alexia took over the radio, while Jill retreated to her desk. William walked over to Albert Wesker's old desk, where he found a picture of a young female basketball player in one of the drawers.

“Freak...” he muttered and put the photo back. Jill watched him as if she were a probation officer. Alexia revealed to him that she was one of the survivors of Spencer mansion, so he should stop acting like an obvious suspect.

“Father... Alexander...” The radio beeped and clicked.

Alexia spoke in a language that neither Jill nor William understood. She turned off the radio.

“What language were you speaking?” It was clear that Jill was also suspicious of Alexia.

“Scottish Gaelic. We are immigrants.”

“Yeah.” Jill didn't buy it. “What's the situation?”

Alexia looked at William.

In his years of accompanying Alexia, William had learned to detect when she was about to do something crazy. He could tell by her knowing look, her slightly raised eyebrows, and her exaggeratedly puffed out chest. William chuckled.

“Nemesis. Spencer has sent Nemesis and possibly another Tyrant. The bio-weapon you saw at the police station entrance is Nemesis, and it's programmed to kill you.” Jill reflexively drew her gun. “Specifically, to kill all surviving members of the STARS. Right now, it's circling the city centre, most likely to return to the police station. I suggest we find a way to access the sewers and take cover in the lab. If that's possible,” she turned to William, “we could reprogram Nemesis from the central lab.”

William nodded and sat up.

“There is a problem. Irons is the one who holds the key to the sewers. Is he still alive?”

“I don't know, but we must look for it or blow up the entrance.”

“Could we not blow anything up for once, Alexia?”

“Stop!” Jill readied the gun. “Who the hell are you people?”

“Alexia Ashford. My father, Alexander Ashford, is the president and CEO of Umbrella, Inc,” Alexia replied.

Jill Valentine opened her eyes, dumbfounded.

“And I am William Birkin, chief researcher, monster maker and Alexia Ashford's worst friend.”

“I'll make you a deal,” Alexia continued. “Your chances of survival are very low with Nemesis and other Umbrella-operated paramilitary organisations in the city. If you help us, we'll get rid of Nemesis and get you out of the city.”

“Help you what?!”

“To recover our research in the underground laboratory.”

“I don't believe you,” Jill pointed at Alexia.

“Don't do it if you want to,” Alexia continued. “But Nemesis is a fact, as are our intentions and your dealings with me and my father.”

“Your father is a butcher who killed my team!”

“Do you accept?” Alexia insisted.

42

Jill led the way to Brian Irons' office. No one knocked on the door, so they caught Irons sitting in one of the armchairs in his office.

“Who is it?”

Irons drew his pistol in fury, but flinched as soon as he saw the faces of Alexia Ashford and William Birkin. To Jill Valentine he gave an angry crooked mouth.

“Mr Birkin. Lady Ashford. What are you doing here?” Irons approached the two investigators docilely. Jill Valentine kept a safe distance from the chief of police.

“We need access to the underground laboratory. We need access to the underground lab.” Alexia overloaded her already commanding voice with authoritarianism.

“Why? The sewers and the laboratory are infested with monsters. What do they intend to do there?”

“That's our business, Mr. Irons. Open the door for us,” repeated Alexia.

Irons, helpless, clenched his fists. Then he turned his attention back to Jill.

“What are you doing with them, Valentine? Shouldn't you be collaborating with your police teammates!”

“He's with us, Mr. Irons,” said Alexia. “Open the door for us.”

“She's a renegade member of STARS. She's going to kill you!”

“Mr. Irons.” Alexia came within an inch of him. Irons lifted his chin to pretend to be more imposing than Alexia, but Alexia didn't flinch at all. “Jill Valentine works for my father. Please open the door.”

Reluctantly, Irons pressed a button hidden in his desk. A portion of the wall rose, revealing the existence of a corridor.

“Is there electricity downstairs?” asked Alexia.

“Mostly, but not for long,” Irons reported.

Alexia directed William and Jill to follow her.

43

As Irons claimed, the bio-weapons that escaped from the lab had invaded the sewers. Luckily for Jill, Alexia and William knew where she had to shoot to kill each bio-weapon with one bullet, at most two. That allowed them to keep moving with agility and at full speed.

After a long walk through countless corridors and canals, they took a break in a maintenance room. William sat on top of a bulky boot placed in a corner, while Alexia handed Jill her pistol magazines. Jill was expressionless and silent, so William guessed that Alexia's secrecy didn't sit too well with her.

“That's all I have,” said Alexia.

Jill checked the magazine and the functionality of the pistol. Then, without further input, she went back out into the corridor.

“I think she hates you,” said William.

Alexia shrugged her shoulders.

44

Jill swore she heard the approach of very heavy footsteps, like those of Nemesis.

Jill gripped the shotgun tightly.

45

“Alexia, isn't that 103 over there?”

William pointed to a huge humanoid figure in a trench coat.

“It is.”

“Run!” Jill pulled both scientists.

46

They dodged 103 and hid in an ember of the sewers in the vicinity of the main entrance to the laboratory.

“What's the plan?” Jill asked.

“Kill or be killed, I suppose,” William replied.

“Stop,” Alexia complained to William. “Back to the front door and into the lab.”

“Do you have the password?” Jill made sure.

“I can hack the control panel.”

47

They closed the front door.

“Let's go to the cable car,” said William.

“Wait.” Alexia stopped him. “I have to get back in touch with my father.”

“What for?”

“To find out why there's a 103 chasing us, among other reasons.” Alexia retreated to the control panel attached to the wall. It wasn't much, but it was connected to Umbrella's intranet.

Jill was inspecting a corner of the room.

“What's down there?”

“A warehouse. Maybe there's something of interest,” William replied.

Jill stood on top of the forklift and climbed down. Alexia took advantage of STARS' absence to talk to William:

“Albert is on his way.”

William's face lit up.

48

Spencer, behind Ashford's back, had sent Nemesis to kill the surviving STARS and a copy of T-103 to kill William Birkin, as Alexander found out.

The partnership between the Ashfords and the Spencers had been broken for good.

49

The cable car stopped at the boarding platform.

Alexia, Jill and William got into the car and started it up.

50

The underground laboratory was in a deplorable state. Blood and traces of claws and impacts against the wall and floor abounded in the reception area.

Alexia and William detoured to the infirmary attached to reception to check if it was possible to access the security cameras.

“Any sign of 103?” asked William as Alexia struggled with the computer's command console.

“I don't know. I don't think so. It didn't follow us.”

“Where are we going?” Jill joined them.

“Central laboratory. That's where our research and security terminal is.”

51

They did not go to the central lab. Instead, William called a time-out. He lay down on the stretcher in the infirmary after eating the last of the crisps in his backpack.

Alexia, although seated, did not take her eyes off the computer. Jill drank one of her bottles.

Soon after lying on the stretcher, William fell asleep.

“Unbelievable.” Jill sat down next to Alexia. “The city infested with bio-weapons and your friend sleeping.”

“We seem to have lost our senses,” Alexia replied.

Jill grabbed Alexia's left hand tightly.

“Your father murdered my teammates.”

“It wasn't my father. The mansion was Spencer's property.”

“Are you always this insensitive?” Jill faced Alexia. Alexia held Jill's gaze, but didn't respond. “You're monsters.”

“We are not,” said Alexia. “You and I are part of the same social system.” Jill let go of Alexia's hand, visibly disturbed.

“You are crazy.”

Jill leaned against the wall opposite Alexia. Alexia resumed her incessant typing.

52

The central laboratory had withstood the onslaught of biological weapons and neglect better than both research chiefs had imagined.

Once inside, the two chief investigators were tasked with collecting the files detailing the investigation into Spencer's virus.

Jill paused to examine some loose papers and the machinery present in the lab. It had all been there from the beginning and under her feet.

When they had finished collecting the papers, Alexia switched on the security terminal and inserted the gold card she had used so far to open the various doors in the lab. The gold card granted her immediate access to the system.

“The self-destruct system has been disconnected from the intranet, so it must be manually triggered. The escape train is operational and ready for the start of the sequence,” Alexia reported.

“What do we do?”

Alexia motioned for William to come closer. She handed him a microphone.

“My father gave me his frequency.”

53

“Al. Are you there? We're in the central lab. We need you. We can't move forward without your help.”

54

A brown-haired man and a red-haired woman appeared on screen. The two were shooting at a humanoid figure chasing them through the upper floors of the underground laboratory.

The battle was short-lived, however, as another black-clad humanoid attacked the other humanoid figure with all its might.

The brown man and the red-haired woman took advantage of the confrontation to sneak down to the lower levels of the laboratory.

55

A shadow of the past. The embodiment of a childhood nightmare. A creature that emerged from the darkness to terrify Jill Valentine.

Albert Wesker.

“Al! You're alive!” William hugged him. “What happened to you? Did it work?”

Albert took off his sunglasses. Reddish eyes surrounded a narrow vertical pupil. Alexia was immediately drawn to those eyes.

“It worked,” Alexia murmured as she touched Albert's cheek. He did not withdraw her hand but allowed her to admire the result of his best creation.

Jill Valentine pointed the gun at Albert. Albert pulled William away from her body.

“Valentine,” said Albert.

“Don't move. Traitor.”

“What is she doing here?” Albert asked both chief researchers.

“She was at the police station. She made a deal with me and my father.”

Albert remained impassive and fixed on Jill.

“What are you going to do?”

“Activate the self-destruct system and start the train, but we'll have to split up,” said William.

“The self-destruct system must be manually activated with the keycard,” Alexia added and took the golden keycard out of her trouser pocket.

As soon as it was in sight, William grabbed the keycard out of the blue.

“I'll take care of this. Albert, will you come with me?” offered William. Albert smiled.

“The code is Veronica,” said Alexia, then looked around for Jill, who was still pointing the gun at Albert.

Before leaving the lab, Alexia asked her father to send an urgent transport.

56

William inserted the key card into the slot.

A window popped up on the monitor.

Inserted the code.

Veronica.

57

The self-destruct sequence has been activated. All personnel must evacuate immediately!

William and Albert were the last to reach the emergency train platform. Because of his new nature and the presence of Jill Valentine, Albert hid in the last carriage of the train.

William agreed to go to the head, where Alexia, Jill, a policeman named Leon and a girl named Claire were waiting impatiently.

William sat with Alexia in the driver's cab.

The train set off.

58

A helicopter awaited them by the platform, and inside the aircraft, Alexander Ashford and his secretary Simmons. The Circle soldiers dissuaded Jill Valentine, Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield from drawing their weapons as the three Umbrella scientists mounted the helicopter with impunity.

59

“Alexandra, call the shareholders for a meeting. I'm going to tender my resignation,” Oswell asked his daughter.

“Notice to Vladimir?”

“Tell Vladimir to prepare a vehicle. I'm going to disappear for a while.”

60

“Graham. I've picked up my daughter. Tell the president,” said Alexander.

“Are you sure?”

“Do it.”

61

A beam of light flooded the sky over Raccoon City; and the light turned into fire.

A mushroom cloud engulfed the city and claimed more than 100,000 souls as dawn broke over the Arklay Mountains on October, 1st.

62

On October 1st, 1998, Oswell E. Spencer and Alexander Ashford resigned as presidents and CEOs of Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, by extension Umbrella, Inc.

In his final speech, Oswell E. Spencer only regretted not founding the company when he was younger. Alexander Ashford, meanwhile, dedicated his final act as Umbrella's president and CEO to the memory of his late father, Edward Ashford.

Both refrained from commenting on the Raccoon City disaster.

[hankcon-bingo]

Interest Check Summary

Hello, Hemlock here!

Once more, thank you to everyone interested in signing up for Hankcon Bingo! I appreciate the time in filling and sharing the Interest Check form. 💙💙💙

The total interest checks received were 27! 🥳 (One shy away from 28, an important number in DBH 😉)

In summary, here is a short breakdown:

💙 A Hankcon Bingo event running from October to the end of December (with January as a catch up month.)

💙 Mini prompt fests outside the main Bingo with generic or themed prompts. No sign-up required.

💙 3x3 (Nine square) bingo cards with the option to request second cards for extra inspiration and badges.

💙 An A03 collection and hashtags on Tumblr and Twitter will be highlighted to make works easier to find and share.

Please let me know your thoughts or any feedback you have. I am hoping to post a concrete schedule in the coming week for a Hankcon Bingo as well as prompt surveys for both this and prompt fests that could take place this year. 💙

Please find enclosed below the percentage breakdown for each question, followed by summaries on how this can work towards the Hankcon Bingo event.

Q1. Are you interested in participating in the bingo?

66.7% - Yes

25.9% - Yes, I just don’t know if I’ll be able to sign-up.

7.4% - I want to do a fest indeed!

0% - No, but I’m interested in the content.

Q2. What size bingo card would you prefer?

63% - 3x3 (Nine squares per card)

33.3% - 5x5 (Twenty-five squares per card)

3.7% - N/A - I want to do a fest!

Q3. When would you like the event to start?

81.5% - October

55.6% - November

51.9% - December

40.7% - September

29.6% - Sometime early in 2025 (Either February or March)

18.5% - August

Q4. How long would you like the event to run?

59.3% - 3 months

40.7% - 6 months

Q5. Where do you prefer to post Hankcon content?

92.6% - A03

63% - Tumblr

33.3% - Twitter

Based on this feedback, there is a preference for:

💙 A Hankcon Bingo event over a prompt fest 💙

As expected, the thirst for a Hankcon Bingo is still strong! Consider a 2024 Hankcon Bingo event officially set in stone!

There was a smaller mixed response between those wanting to take part but being unsure if they will sign-up, and wanting to do a fest instead.

With this in mind and further clarification from the OG Mod, I have been considering running mini prompt fests outside of the main Hankcon bingo. They would be something fun to do, and be an alternative option for those who are unsure or unable to commit to a full event (but bingo participants are more than welcome to do both, of course.)

These would be week long fests at different times of the year, a prompt a day, that can be generic or themed. Themed examples:

💙 Seasonal like Summer, Fall, Halloween, Winter, Valentines, etc.

💙 DBH anniversaries like the official game release, THE HUG, Connor or Hank’s birthday, etc.

💙 Tropes like AU, hurt/comfort, canon divergence, etc.

No sign-up would be required to take part in prompt fests, just create something if one or more prompts speak to you, and enjoy. ☺️

Depending on the bingo start date, we could try a small fest beforehand. Would that be something that you all would be interested in?

💙 3x3 (Nine square) square bingo cards 💙

There was a majority preference for 3x3 square bingo cards. As clarified in later section, smaller cards might work better if the event runs for 3 months as opposed to 6 months.

Participants will be more than welcome to request second cards if they finish the first cards, and are hungry to create more Hankcon content! There are extra badges for second bingo card achievements too!

💙 October starting period 💙

The majority of responses preferred an October start date for a Hankcon Bingo event. This actually works out in getting everything ready as well as for those of you (myself included!) creating for the DBHRBB which should have wrapped up posting by the time the bingo begins.

💙 3 month event 💙

A bingo running for three months was preferred, meaning that with an October starting month, the event should run from October until the end of December.

January could be a grace month for last minute posts, etc, as December can be a busy month for a lot of people with holidays and the sort.

💙 Posting on A03 💙

A03 is the preferred place to post Hankcon content with decent numbers for Tumblr and Twitter.

There will be a Hankcon Bingo collection available on A03 if you would like to add your works (art very much welcome!)

Anything posted to Tumblr will be reblogged, and hashtags will be shared nearer the time to make finding content easier on both Tumblr or Twitter.

I understand this is a lot to take in, so I appreciate your patience for reading this far. 😅

Thank you very much for your time, and I look forward to any feedback or comments everyone has on the direction of thr Hankcon Bingo this year. 💙

[georgegraphys]

Warning : Unprofessional unverified talks as I am not Mercedes nor have 10 masters degrees. Fragile snowflakes that got their heart shattered by opinion differences are not welcomed. An opinionated talk.

I'm just gonna back track on what happens here. What started this all sudden China PR campaign of this douyin acc thing and my whole summary of thoughts. If you're new here and you haven't had the time to scroll through my PR talks regarding this whole 2024 George PR cooking class. Let me summarize you here (this lacks the recent targa florio updates, mercedes vision one eleven, etc. i haven't updated it further)

Again, I'd like to say. I am not a Mercedes Benz PR team member. I am not a professional. I am just someone who worked in a similar field who analyzes, plans, and strategizes PR agendas like this. Of course the very first time I posted about this whole theory it's just a goofy hypothetical tweet of "what IFs"

This was just minutes after George opened his douyin acc btw. Something just struck me like "Huh? Why bother opening an account for a race that lasts 2-3 days?". As someone who worked in PR myself, these things are not a good move. Like why the hell open a douyin account? If I were Mercedes, I'd open a tiktok account for George that could be used beyond China GP. That was my mindset back then until I watched the video again and I realized George saying things like his F1 journey throughout the season. And that's the part where it struck me.

Now why does it intrigue me? Douyin is a platform that is only available in China (or probably in Macau/HK/Taiwan too, idk sorry) and to sign up for Douyin you need a Chinese phone number or ID card verification. It makes me think that maybe Mercedes pulled some strings? To be able to get George in Douyin? But until then my thoughts are just goofy ahh what if lol. Then suddenly Douyin Sports starts posting about George on their account and George makes a specific video greeting for Douyin Sports. Now this kind of confirms my idea? Because douyin sports rarely post international athletes unless you are on the calibre of probably Marc Marquez or Cristiano Ronaldo or Lionel Messi, other than that they just posted about the chinese athletes. Afterwards, there was the Mercedes Benz official account commenting here and there and I just went "maybe this isn't a joke"

For now, it seems that the douyin account is also posting personal things about George like his post with Carmen, his family and friends and more. Well surprising considering I thought they're going to be full racing and business because at first i thought that douyin acc pr move was solely for the company because they were promoting lots of 63 series that George will probably lead the promotions later. I didn't expect them to actually build something that is also personal to George? Like his brand image? As they also involve posts about his beloved ones and not pure business. Also Mercedes even invited a LOCAL press to directly interview George one-on-one??? I'm surprised by that. But this is honestly good for George!

I know i've seemingly been all positive about this but just to let you know, I had doubts lol. Like I thought this wasn't gonna last this long. I thought it was just to keep the China GP hype for 2 weeks and it's all gone and dusted. But it didn't. Turns out they even have these 3 days posting patterns which not only intrigues me but also intrigues the chinese audience. It brought them to pay attention to George and question things like "oh he is still posting??" "who posts for him??" "he's using douyin actively??". I honestly expect lower than this and thought that the account would be another vessel to promote Mercedes cars to the chinese audience but wow... also building his individual brand images? I did not expect that.

I might have been able to guess the purpose of the douyin account making but I could never know what they were cooking. It baffles me. You might not understand but in that one single douyin account, there's a social media team or at least one person handling it and a PR planning over it. The posts were planned, it has posting patterns and it shows that it was scheduled, the subtitles, the songs (even though it's shitty), and the editing. The editing specifically appeals to the chinese audience. And I cannot wrap my mind on the reason why. These have lots of efforts poured into it and the supportive Mercedes Benz account? Unusual. Because they usually gave 0 fucks in other platforms. You need to acknowledge that this is

a) A whole ass PR planning with the approval of the company because it represents George and even also builds his individual brand value and image to the chinese audience/target market

b) No doubt Mercedes pulled some string to get his account to douyin and have the app promote his account

c) This stretched out longer than i would ever expect. My expectations weren't low but it's realistic. This thing is a bucket full of effort and planning inside for it to stretch until this long.

Now this part gets a bit sensitive. So again WARNING that this is highly SPECULATIVE and we're PREDICTING not saying that this is true. "But ari you're so jobless for all of this guessing. No one does this except the obsessed ones" This is what I and some people who worked in the PR sectors do. We look at a company's PR planning and make a guess out of it. Why? To counter their PR strategy of course. For the sake of competitions. And it's a REAL PAID JOB. But anyways

My guess is that maybe in the future George will be used as some sort of representative or ambassador for the chinese market? As for now, Mercedes Benz's objective and target market is the Chinese market. Their collaboration with Denza and BAIC, Beijing Benz subsidiary making China specialized vehicles, joint cooperation with chinese universities like Tsinghua and more.

Not to mention that this whole Mercedes in China field trip is not just any other field trip. It is state backed. Germany and China seem to be building this whole bestie relationship when it comes to automotive, technology, engineering, etc. Judging by how it's state backed and which means things won't get "nahhh okay byeeee" just anytime, that means this would then be a long term thing?

I'm just connecting two points here. A) Mercedes strong ambitions on the venture in China (Not every automotive manufacturer is aboard on this idea btw. Stellantis doesn't) B) George's sudden PR campaign in China. I look at those two and suddenly 🧐🧐, maybe it might be related??? I understand that Mercedes could use chinese ambassadors to promote Mercedes in China. Of course they're more popular and relevant in China than George since he isn't Chinese. But to promote China and Beijing Benz outside, they need a guy too yk? And that guy MAY be George Russell with all this PR cooking up behind him.

Again this is just a silly goofy guess based on EVIDENCES and PROOFS shown. As much as I love to waffle, I don't lie about these things unlike Toto. But also, don't trust me on it and take my words seriously?? Because I ain't Mercedes 😁😁 🤷‍♀️

Lastly, George's linguistic journey is basic at its finest. ciao, bonjour, JEL-AND-WAGEN, adios, hola, konnichiwa. For him to suddenly be SITTING DOWN reading a written script of his introduction in Chinese??? To be seriously sat and memorizing "da jia hao, wo shi qiao zhi la sai er-" means something 😭😭😭 don't tell me someone did not write that down for him and tell him to memorize that like an asian parent would sign their kid to a mandarin course.

[cdyssey]

Abbott Elementary S1-S2 Bracket

Hi all!

Welcome to the Abbott Elementary S1 and S2 Tumblr Bracket, where we’ll vote on episodes to see what the Tumblr's current favorite episode is. The thirty-five episodes are seeded based on iMDb ratings, and voting rounds will last an entire week. Since Round 1 has the most episodes of all, we’ll split that one into two weeks, so there aren’t 17 polls going on at once, lmao.

On this doc, you’ll find all the information you need to know about the rounds, as well as all the imDB scores, summaries, and original air dates of episodes! Meanwhile, this post will be continually updated with links to all the polls once they go live!

Hope you guys have fun!! Voting will officially start on 4/21/23!

- Maggie

Final Update (6/13/23): All poll data is now available! A winner has been declared.

Round 1, Pt. I:

Duration: 4/21/23 - 4/28/23

Since there is an uneven number of episodes, the highest rated episode and our #1 seed “Teacher Conference” is going to have a bye-week, which just means it’ll sit out on Round 1 until we can get the remaining choices to an even number!

"Art Teacher" (#35) vs. "Festival" (#2) → "Festival" (82%) [167 votes]

"Juice" (#34) vs. "Candy Zombies" (#3) → "Candy Zombies" (75.7%) [144 votes]

"Pilot" (#33) vs. "Work Family" (#4) → "Work Family" (74%) [123 votes]

"New Tech" (#32) vs. "Zoo Balloon" (#5) → "Zoo Balloon" (71.6%) [141 votes]

“Story Samurai” (#31) vs. “Mom” (#6) → "Mom" (81.3%) [134 votes]

“Light Bulb” (#30) vs. “Educator of the Year” (#7) → "Educator of the Year" (50.9%) [108 votes]

“Student Transfer” (#29) vs. “Valentine’s Day” (#8) → "Valentine's Day" (62.7%) [118 votes]

Round 1, Pt. 2:

Duration: 4/28/23 - 5/5/23

“Gifted Program” (#28) vs. “Holiday Hookah” (#9) → "Holiday Hookah" (83.2%) [137 votes]

“Mural Arts” (#27) vs. “Sick Day” (#10) → "Sick Day" (58.7%) [109 votes]

“Fight” (#26) vs. “Development Day” (#11) → "Development Day" (62.9%) [116 votes]

“Wishlist” (#25) vs. “Teacher Appreciation” (#12) → "Teacher Appreciation" (70.3%) [91 votes]

“Step Class” (#24) vs. “Fundraiser” (#13) → "Step Class" (62.4%) [117 votes]

“Ava vs. Superintendent” (#23) vs. “Read-a-Thon” (#14) → "Read-a-Thon" (70.9%) [103 votes]

“Principal’s Office” (#22) vs. “Desking” (#15) → "Desking" (62.8%) [121 votes]

“Attack Ad” (#21) vs. “Franklin Institute” (#16) → "Franklin Institute" (85.8%) [106 votes]

“Egg Drop” (#20) vs. “Wrong Delivery” (#17) → "Egg Drop" (68.4%) [98 votes]

“Fire” (#19) vs. “Open House” (#18) → "Fire" (71.3%) [101 votes]

Round 2:

Duration: 5/7/23 - 5/14/23

"Festival" (#2) vs. "Candy Zombies" (#3) → “Candy Zombies” (62.2%) [74 votes]

"Work Family" (#4) vs. "Zoo Balloon" (#5) → “Zoo Balloon” (58.3%) [60 votes]

"Mom" (#6) vs. "Educator of the Year" (#7) → “Mom” (69.5%) [59 votes]

"Valentine's Day" (#8) vs. "Holiday Hookah" (#9) → “Holiday Hookah” (77.8%) [63 votes]

"Sick Day" (#10) vs. "Development Day" (#11) → “Development Day” (54.3%) [70 votes]

"Teacher Appreciation" (#12) vs. "Step Class" (#24) → “Step Class” (55.6%) [63 votes]

"Read-a-Thon" (#14) vs. "Desking" (#15) → Read-a-Thon” (50.8%) [118 votes]

"Franklin Institute" (#16) vs. "Egg Drop" (#20) → “Franklin Institute” (74.3%) [74 votes]

"Teacher Conference" (#1) vs. "Fire" (#19) → “Teacher Conference” (82.9%) [35 votes]

Round 3:

A disclaimer about one of the Round 3 options: So Maggie effed up, lmao. When you have an odd number of choices for a bracket, you're supposed to give the highest ranking seeds a bye-round, which I did for the highest ranking seed! 😭 However, you're also supposed to take out as many as you need to get the first round to the closest power of two, which I didn't realize. Since Abbott has 35 episodes, for instance, the closest power of 2 would be 32, which means that three episodes needed to have a bye-week for the tournament to shake out perfectly. This means for this round, one of the polls unfortunately has a three episode option. However, after that, we'll be back on track for a smooth finish! Sorry for the mess-up!!

Duration: 5/21/23 - 5/28/23

"Candy Zombies" (#3) vs. "Zoo Balloon" (#5) → “Candy Zombies” (59.5%) [185 votes]

“Mom” (#6) vs. “Holiday Hookah” (#9) → “Holiday Hookah” (63%) [138 votes]

“Development Day” (#11) vs. “Step Class” (#24) → “Step Class” (59.4%) [69 votes]

“Read-a-Thon” (#14) vs. “Franklin Institute” (#16) vs. “Teacher Conference” (#1) → “Teacher Conference” (55.1%) [107 votes]

Round 4 [Penultimate Round]:

Duration: 5/29/23 - 6/5/23

“Candy Zombies” (#3) vs. “Holiday Hookah” (#9) → "Holiday Hookah" (#9) (65.3%) [49 votes] “Step Class” (#24) vs. “Teacher Conference” (#1) → “Teacher Conference” (67.6%) [71 votes]

Round 5 [Final Round]:

Duration: 6/5/23 - 6/12/23

“Holiday Hookah” (#9) vs. “Teacher Conference” (#1) → "Teacher Conference" (71.3%) [178 votes]

Cumulative Poll Votes:

3,447

Ultimate Winner:

"Teacher Conference"