#the color she picked is stupid its like light fucking gray? seriously?

[jackass-jones]

I just neeeeeeeeeeeeed to be let loose in some big ass jungle gym so I can run around for a while

[b0rista]

— 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.

WARNINGS: light angst & swearing.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: he's one of my ultimate favorite snk characters, and i needed to cleanse my page of the heavy ass warrior content djjfjf.

"you're either a blessing, or you're a lesson. either or, you and i met for a reason."

with all of the gore and the misfortune that comes with your livelihood, it's connie that gets you through it.

as expected, you first fell in love with him for his humor. not for the humor itself, but for how it shed the smallest flicker of joy upon a heaping tower of despair— as soldiers, you needed that. fortunately, he was the one that brought it to the table. even during your days as cadets, connie lived to make you laugh. hearing a chuckle flutter from your core served as a form of therapy for him, and with time, he grew addicted.

with that being said, he does the stupidest shit in order to get your attention. even when you're together, he'll do what needs to be done. for example, one time, he tried to impress you by doing a trick while saddled up on his horse. in an attempt to twirl like a jackass ballerina, the horse decided that it deserved better, and kicked him clean off its back. at the sight of his 5'2 ass being hoisted eight feet into the air, you nearly choked.

prepare yourself, he's a cuddler. after a particularly hard day's worth of work, connie finds solace in bedding up with you, knowing that you're safe, and with him. he asks that you don't tell anybody, but he actually really enjoys cuddling as the little spoon. to have his head pressed against your chest, his ear to your heartbeat, brings him comfort. of course, he'll never detest to being your big spoon, either. he absolutely loves the feeling of you buried within his touch.

^ if you ever want to go an evening without cuddling, he'll be immediately offended. never, ever, ever will the two of you fall asleep back to back. he simply won't have it, it makes him feel as if something's wrong. and if that is the case, nobody's falling asleep until you've talked about it and successfully sorted it out.

at the beginning of your guys' relationship, everyone worried for you. did he coerce you, y/n? are you being forced? has he threatened you, has he threatened your family? nobody could grasp the fact that connie motherfuckin' springer had managed to pull you.

if there's any sort of sour talk regarding you, no matter how little it is, this man will leap to your defense. one time, jean called your bedhead ugly, and connie propelled a moldy roll of bread into his forehead. in the end, a massive food fight erupted, and you were just standing there with your bedhead like 🧍‍♀️

HOWEVER, there was an instance that actually led to a genuine, real fight between you two as a couple. you'd managed to scuff up your leg during the battle with kenny the ripper and his associates, and when it came down to who was and who wasn't going to tag along for the eren & historia rescue mission, connie belittled you to the team behind your back. not because he actually felt that way, but because he'd do anything to maintain your safety— even if it meant hurting your feelings. telling captain levi that your abilities were inadequate for that particular mission hurt him, but he did what he felt was necessary.

in the end, though, levi saw through the charade. to connie's dismay, you came with to save eren and historia. and during the entire journey, you didn't even utter a word to him. of course, though, during the battle, you put your frustrations aside. once you saw your lover's head nearly get kicked in during combat, you understood his intentions, and you forgave him. as expected, he replied to your forgiveness with humor,, his go-to coping mechanism.

"considering how sexy i looked on the battlefield, i knew you wouldn't be able to resist."

whenever his hair starts to grow out, you're the one that gets to cut it back down! he's able to do it himself, but he really likes it when you do it. you're typically propped up in his lap, sitting face to face as you file down his edges. he always loops his arms around your waist, intently staring you in the face— seeing you so concentrated on his hair, he can't help it.

you wouldn't expect this from connie whatsoever, but he likes it when you read to him. pick a literature of your choice and let him kick back and rest his head onto your lap, pleasE. he'll close his eyes, and for the first time in forever, stay still. the only time he and books ever coexist is when you're reading one to him. he'll also make fun of you whenever you stumble over a sentence,, so get ready.

the day you realize that this motherfucker is nearing six feet tall, you're ready for the holy spirit to whisk you away. literally, you measure his height on the weekly once you realize he just keeps gaining inches. that, and when he starts growing more into his face? lawd, take you now.

"connie, you're getting seXY-"

"what the hell does thaT mE A N-"

many, many proposals. none are meant to be taken seriously, which the both of you know. still, there are far too many proposals between the two of you. one time, you killed a fly midair, and he thought you were the baddest bitch on the block.

"marry me."

another time, he swooped you into the air with his maneuvering gear, and as you held onto him for dear life, you looked him dead in the face: "marry me, you baldheaded bastard."

it can be a reel, how many times the two of you say that bullshit. somehow, it's cute.

he doesn't really take basic boundaries into consideration. like, one time, you caught him using your toothbrush because he couldn't find his. it wasn't fun, you had to give him a serious talking to.

he is, without a doubt, constantly prepared to lay down his life for you on the battlefield. during his time as a soldier, he's grown significantly strong— and once he fell in love with you, he's felt even stronger. not only do you give him drive, but you lend him strength. with that being said, you're somebody he'd die for without even an ounce of hesitation. and knowing him, he's probably made that more than obvious.

when connie's village was destroyed and it was discovered that his entire family was turned into titans, you were one of the only ones to actually comfort him. you were absolutely enraged at how nonchalantly your lover's loss was set aside, and although he'd tried his hardest to conquer the grief alone, it was you who sat at his bedside at night, cradling him in your arms as he wept. never in your life had you seen him so distraught. after that period of time, your relationship with him only deepened in its seriousness. 

as expected, you and sasha spend quite a bit of time together! after all, that's your boyfriend's best friend. given her easygoing nature, it didn't take long for sasha to absolutely adore you. naturally, she wonders how the hell you manage to operate with a boyfriend like that, but she tries not to ask questions.

speaking of the wonder twins, they love getting you in trouble. whenever the two of them think up an astonishingly moronic shenanigan, there's a solid 50/50 chance that you'll be looped into it, too. one time, they purposefully dulled jean's razor, and when he went to shave, it only ended in him splitting his face open due to placing too much pressure. as a joke, those two jackasses carved your initials into the handle. when jean decided that he'd murder you, connie tried playing the hero, lEapiNg to your defense. it was stupid, and it didn't work. you still laugh about it, though.

there have been several jokes regarding starting a family and growing old together— secretly, though, connie doesn't want them to just be jokes.

he stole a stray cat for you. yup, yes he did. the two of you were walking about the city, and you saw a gray-haired sleeping beside a trash bin behind a local vendor. you compared its fur to the color of his hair, calling it cute. out of impulse, connie went back to that exact same vendor later on that day, trapped the cat in a box, and brought it to your doorstep.

his forearms and fingertips were covered in claw marks, but to see your face light up the way that it did, any amount of pain was immediately worth it.

after the nickname that shadis had given connie on the first day of cadet training, you named the kitty q-ball. 🥺

during the season four era, the two of you share a house. at first, captain levi argued against it— "put a pair of horny teenagers in a home together, what do you think is gonna happen?"

y'all said fuck it, and lived together anyways. it's you, him, and your lovely child, q-ball. occasionally jean, too. some nights, he doesn't want to be alone.

eskimo kisses. during the prepping of every single mission, you'll get eskimo kisses. it's a small, loving gesture the two of you do before heading into the battlefield. as a sign of your love, you'll press your foreheads together and rub noses, weapons holstered and ready for combat. it's a serious tradition, and it'll never be ignored.

and after a mission, connie has this habit of pinching your cheeks immediately after rushing towards you. it isn't to be cute, either. it's so that he can scan you, and check you for any harm. basically, it's him squeezing the life out of your face while bombarding you with questions.

expect supremely cheesy pet names! bae, biscuit, buttercup, baby thing, sexy bitch, and so on. if it were anyone else, he would 100% make fun of them. but it's him, therefore adorable.

[orangepeelers]

it’s you

my boys go to the beach and are a little very slow on picking up hints

***

Remus awoke to a text from Sirius.

As he saw his name on the screen, excitement bloomed in his stomach and made his toes curl. He felt elated for a brief moment, before forcing himself to punch the feeling down into the recesses of his mind. He couldn’t feel that way about Sirius. He wouldn’t feel that way about Sirius. He’s just your friend, he reminded himself. 

His heart didn’t really get the memo.

Remus rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced over at Peter’s sleeping form. The four of them were staying at the Potters’ beach house, spending the hottest days of the summer eating ice cream on the boardwalk and swimming in the ocean. He hated that despite the fact that Sirius was in the room next door with James, a text from him could still have such an effect. 

He unlocked his phone to read the text, anxiety and excitement mingling in his chest. Hey Moons. I woke up a little early today. Proud of me?

Remus grinned and rolled his eyes. Sure I am Pads. Of the four of them, Remus was the only early riser, a fact which he never let them forget. He found Sirius’ gesture endearing, if a little strange. Waking up early was so out of character for him. 

His legs jiggled nervously as he awaited a response. He couldn’t help but wonder whether his waking up early was for a specific reason. Running through his head in an attempt to tamp down his overactive imagination was a constant stream of shutupshutupshutupshutupshut-

Wanna go for a run on the beach?

Remus’ fingers moved of their own accord. Sure. Breakfast at 3 Broomsticks after?

Of course!! See u in like 2 seconds. Love u Moons 

At the last three words, Remus’ heart did a little skip rope routine. He knew it was just Sirius being Sirius, but the words still found the nooks and crannies of his brain and filled him with warmth. They stoked the fire of false hope he had burning in his mind, like vodka on their weekly beach bonfires.

He got dressed quickly, overthinking between his choice of old t shirts before settling on one from some event his parents had organized. Taking care not to wake Peter, he crept to the door and stepped into the hall, easing it shut. Sirius was already in the living room, long hair tied up into a ponytail. Black strands framed his face, bouncing against his cheekbones as he turned to look at Remus.

He flashed the grin that Remus had pictured so many times while trying to fall asleep. “Moons! Ready for our run?”

Remus smiled back. “Shocked that you have this much energy this early.”

Sirius shrugged, still smiling. “I was just in a mood today. C’mon!”

The two walked out the door into the oppressive humidity of the east coast. The orderly streets full of pastel-colored beach houses were quiet in the early morning, the people inside still sleeping off the previous day of swimming and sunbathing. Sirius immediately stripped his shirt off, tucking it into his waistband.

“Fuck, it’s hot.”

Remus pretended to shake his head in disapproval, but his eyes were tracing the sloping lines of the other boy’s biceps, wondering how it would feel to wrap his hands around them. He swallowed the thought before also stripping his shirt. Sirius grinned cockily.

“And I thought you were judging me.”

Remus mock-bowed. “Why, never!” 

They started running, following the unpopulated streets to the beach. It wasn’t too far, and when they got there the sandy plains were mostly empty except for a few people walking. A bubble of laughter and conversation surrounded them, disrupting the early morning silence. They ran along the beach, listening to the waves lap against the shore as they sun came up. By the time they got to the Three Broomsticks, they were soaked in sweat and panting hard.

Sirius pushed his hair off of his forehead and mopped the sweat with his t shirt. “Hell, I’m never waking up early again.”

Remus laughed. “Hey, what about Belgian waffles?”

Sirius considered the waffles for a moment. “Hmm... You do make a very valid point. Maybe I’ll do it once more. As a treat for you, of course.”

They laughed before slipping their shirts on and going inside. The Three Broomsticks was Remus’ favorite restaurant on the boardwalk. The inside was quaint, with blue-checked tablecloths and pictures of patrons and vintage posters lining the walls. Natural light streamed in through the big windows facing the beach as a few other early customers ate and chatted. The brunch rush hadn’t started yet, so they were able to get a table close to the big windows.

Remus studied the boy sitting across from him. His eyes were gray and studious as he read the menu, with a hint of mischievous humor, like he might order blue eggs and burst into laughter before the waiter could say anything. Dark hair fell across his face before he pushed it back, still reading through the list of pancake varieties. 

Sirius glanced up before Remus could look away. “Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something in my teeth?”

Remus just smiled, hoping the flush of embarrassment would be written off as a result of their run. “Just wondering why you’re reading this more intently than anything else I’ve ever seen you look at.”

“Hey, I take my breakfast very seriously, Moons.” He pointed a finger at him, pretending to be stern. “And you should too. It’s an important part of the growing boy’s regimen.”

“Okay, okay.” Remus put his hands up in surrender. “But I know you’re just going to order what you always do.”

“I also like routine, Moons.” Sirius said, shaking his finger before returning to the menu.

A waiter walked over and introduced himself before taking their orders. 

Sirius pretended to think. “I think I’ll have... Chocolate chip Belgian waffles with strawberries and whipped cream.”

Remus shook his head at him. “I’ll have the same.” See, told you so, he mouthed. Sirius just rolled his eyes and smiled. 

The waiter took their menus and walked away. Sirius turned his full attention to Remus. “So, Rem. Lily tells me you have a little summer romance up your sleeve.”

Remus’ heart beat double-time. He’d confessed his crush to Lily, because he just had to tell somebody and he trusted her to keep her mouth shut. Technically, he supposed, she hadn’t told Sirius, but his legs bounced nervously like his deepest secret had been discovered.

Remus laughed awkwardly. “Well, I guess you could say that.”

Sirius cast an analytical look before sinking back into his chair. For a moment, Remus swore disappointment flickered across his face. Impossible, he reminded himself. Silence hung in the air thickly.

“Well, not quite a romance. More like useless pining.” He amended. He met Sirius’ gray eyes, and for once, they were unreadable as he studied him across the table. 

“Well, I think anyone would be lucky to have you.” Sirius said sincerely. “You should tell them. Who knows? They might feel the same, and you can have an actual summer romance.”

Remus smiled, a little sadly. “Yeah. Maybe.” He studied the tablecloth intently, a heavy layer of quiet laced with tension settling over them. They each pretended to be very interested in the cloth napkins.

Sirius cleared his throat, a little awkwardly, trying to break the tension. Thankfully, their waiter arrived with two plates stacked with thick waffles and glasses of fresh, bright orange juice. The arrival of food dispersed some of the binding silence and conversation flowed again as they dug into the hot, crispy-yet-soft waffles. 

They finished up their meal and paid the bill, setting out to walk back to the house. It was about nine, which was still relatively early in beach time. A few people were laying out towels and umbrellas on the beach. The sun was properly up, beating its hot rays down on the morning and dispersing the dew. Sea breeze carried the scent of salt as it ruffled their hair and scattered their laughter. 

As they got onto the more quiet streets, their conversation turned, once again, to talk of summer romances.

Why does he keep bringing this up? Remus thought. The last thing he needed was a reminder that the person he wanted most in the world was unattainable. The constant thought hung about his head like vines in a jungle, and he didn’t want to see those words personified as Sirius rambled on.

“I was really hoping this summer would finally be the one where I wasn’t afraid to speak my mind.” Sirius’ clear voice led Remus back to their conversation. 

A lump formed in Remus’ throat as he nodded. “Me too, honestly.”

They walked side-by-side, spilling out a little onto the lawns of the houses. Remus saw Sirius glance over, almost nervously, as he continued. “Yeah, I’ve sort of had this major crush on someone for a while. But I’ve never been able to tell them.”

Remus laughed, a little bitterly. How ironic that they were each in the same situation, yet Remus knew that Sirius could get anyone he wanted. He probably hadn’t told this mystery person because he wanted to see how long he could drag it out. Not that Sirius was cruel, but he couldn’t see any situation in which he simply couldn’t tell somebody he liked them. It just didn’t make sense. 

“Well, I think you should tell them.”

“Yeah?”

Remus swallowed thickly. What matters is that he’s happy, he reminded himself. All the useless pining in the world didn’t give him a right to impede Sirius’ happiness, or decide who he dated. “Well, if you’ve liked them for a while, then either they’ve figured it out or they’re too stupid to realize. Either way it would be a push in the right direction. And, you’re Sirius fucking Black.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Remus pushed him lightly and smiled. “You know what it means, you egoistic dolt. Like you told me, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Sirius smiled faintly, as if adding Remus’ words to a mental list. They continued walking until they were about a block from the Potters’. By now, Peter and James were probably being woken up by Mrs. Potter opening curtains and humming. Remus smiled to himself at the thought. He looked over at Sirius, who was deep in thought, brow furrowed. He wished he could see what the other boy was thinking.

All of a sudden, Sirius stopped. He grabbed Remus by the hand and pulled him so they were facing each other. Their chests were bare inches from each other, which Remus was hyper aware of as he looked down into his face. He was a few inches taller than Sirius, and being so close made that feel like a few feet. He could feel his soft breath as they looked into each other’s faces.

Sirius’ gaze was intense as he took a deep breath. He was still holding onto Remus’ hand and he gave it a subconscious squeeze, as if trying to gather confidence. They stood like that for several seconds until either of them remembered to talk.

“What-”

“Rem, I-”

They laughed a little breathlessly. Remus seriously thought that his heart would explode. All he wanted was to close the distance between them. But he restrained himself and settled for saying, “You first.”

Sirius hesitated a moment, before resolve hardened in his eyes. “It’s you.”

“What?”

“You’re the summer romance person. You’re the person I’ve liked for a while.”

Remus blinked. The words floated around his head before he was able to string them together. All he could do was stare back at Sirius, unable to believe what he was hearing. He felt like a fish gasping on a dry dock, unable to suck in air to form words. “I- um, I-”

Sirius stared back, expression alert as Remus floundered for words. Finally, he was able to peel the letters from his throat and force the sentence out. “It’s you too.”

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, as the realization of their words settled around them like snow. Slowly, Sirius placed his hands on Remus shoulders, the around his neck, fingers tracing the muscles there gently. His hands shook Remus out of his stupor and he pulled Sirius closer, hands on his waist.

Then Sirius kissed him.

The kiss was everything a kiss should be. Deep in his stomach, Remus felt the same excitement from earlier in the morning return a hundredfold. Sirius’ mouth was soft and sweet from the waffles. They were so close, bodies pressed together despite the summer heat. He felt like a body of stars, constellations blooming on his skin wherever Sirius touched him. Adrenaline raced through his body as Sirius pulled back to look at him.

He smiled, softer than Remus had seen him before, a smile just for him. “I’d say this is my summer.”

Remus smiled back, hands intertwining behind his waist. “I’d say so too.”

[thedeitychildren]

Rosie Ghost: Chapter 1

Author’s Note: So, I just finished writing this, and thought I’d share it. It’s unlikely I’ll ever finish Rosie’s story, but like, I’ve drawn her enough I feel like I should at least post a writing of her. Also, I really need a new title for her story, seriously. Anyway, hope you enjoy, and maybe I’ll write more of this!

The sky is a matted mix of grays and blacks, which only from experience is she able to distinguish from the true night sky. Rain drizzles down from the clouds and slides, drop after drop, down the glass she is staring out of.

She can hear it, the soft pitter-patter of raindrops against the roof, and she thinks today is one of the days it will drive her crazy, rather than comforting her. She sighs, and folds up the book she had been trying to read in the dim light. 

“Guess today’s just not my day,” she announces to the potted plant a few feet from her, and gets up off the padded armchair she had been curled up on.

She arches her back as she stretches, bringing her hands all the way above her head for a count of three breaths. Was that yoga? It sounded like it, stretching and breathing, that was yoga, right?

She was going to have to sit in on another one of Ms. Theo’s classes soon, she had forgotten so much.

The steady tinkling of raindrops, which really wasn’t all that steady, there was no pattern to it, they just dropped down from the sky whenever they wished, but the sound of raindrops was interrupted by a sharp clack against the glass. 

She turned around to see a raven pecking at the window, its dark eyes meeting hers as it begged to be let in. She giggled at it, and fumbled with the latch for a few minutes before finally opening it. The raven wasted no time, cawing as it dashed into the room, spraying droplets of water everywhere as it unfurled its wings.

She laughed as the droplets splattered everywhere. “Come on now, this is a library, be mindful of all the paper here, this is a public place that we should leave in as good condition as we found it in,” she chastised as she closed the window back up, blocking out any more rain from dampening the waiting books.

The raven croaked in dismissal of her rebuttal, and walked around the shelves, its beady eyes fixed on her as it waited for her to entertain it. Not that she minded, she thrived on the attention.

“Now then, you're going to have to leave before daylight breaks, you know how much administration doesn’t like animals in the school,” She warned the raven, wagging her finger in front of its face. It followed the finger closely, more than it followed her words, and it looked seconds away from trying to bite her.

Ha! Joke’s on it, it can’t hurt her.

“I’m serious, young avian, listen to your elders!” She barely managed to finish the sentence without laughter escaping her lips.

The raven cawed, ruffling its feathers as though to reject her authority, and she doubled over, clutching at her stomach as she cackles.

When she was finally able to live again, she looked up at the bird and found it standing there, looking proud at its accomplishment of raising her spirits. She smiled at it in thanks, it's polite to thank those that do nice things for you, but quickly, she must move on.

“Now,” she warned, “If you promise not to get anything wet, I think there’s a story here that you may enjoy.” She walked through the library, tapping her finger against her bottom lip as she perused title after title. The raven followed behind her, walking with a weird hop-skip-jump on its little talons.

It was then she heard the faint sound of a door slamming somewhere in the building. The familiar click of the lock sliding into place reverberated faintly in the library, and as she strained her hearing, she could hear light footfalls against the linoleum floor.

Breath caught in her throat as she instinctively stilled. The raven, too, seemed to sense a disturbance, as it quieted down to barely a whisper of sound.

Was it- was it time for the school day to restart? No, a quick look at the clock told her the day was still hours away. Why would someone be in the school at the dead of night? Well, someone besides her, but she was an exception!

And she could still hear the footfalls.

“What do I do, what do I do, what do I do,” She mumbled to herself, tugging harshly at her lightly bound hair. 

Maybe it was just students planning an elaborate prank. Maybe. Hopefully.

Should she run and hide until daylight comes? No, that would be stupid, she couldn’t be seen anyway.

“Let’s go check it out then,” She needlessly whispered to the raven, and she glided across the floor, leaving the library as the raven followed behind, squeezing through the crack in the door.

The outer halls were just as dark as the library, the gloom of dusk making it nigh impossible to see. Yet still, a flash of movement caught her eye, and she went towards it.

Rounding a bend, she saw a figure dressed in all black next to the wall, their features were hidden, and those that were not were made indistinguishable from the night. They were running a gloved hand against a wall, murmuring words that she could not hear, but more could feel reverberating in the air. There was a pressure around the figure, one that made Rosie’s ears pop and her stomach drop. She wanted to run, and run, and run-

But where was there to go to get away? It's not like she could leave the school.

So closer she crept, and she followed the figure as they walked. Their hand remained on the wall as they went, and letters of faint and faded light formed where they had touched. The letters looked like interconnected swirls, looping into one another until she forgot where she had begun.

And as those words expanded, circling further and further out, a doorway formed, a dark cave that she could faintly see had a staircase leading downward.

Down

        And down

                        And down.

And down that staircase the figure did go, and down that staircase did she follow. The bricks of the building were replaced with dark, old stones that looked ancient. Looping patterns, like those of the letters, were carved into the rock.

After a minute of walking they came upon an opening leading into a cavern. It was lit by faint, white light that glowed from the swirls on the walls. And in the center of the cavern was a pedestal, it looked as though it had been carved out of the ground, for there was no place where the pedestal ended and the ground began. On that pedestal a pendant sat, the gems that lay on it faintly glowing in a rainbow of colors.

And her body felt as though it was exploding. Every inch of her skin itched with the need to leave. She did not want to be here- she did not want to be here- she did not want to be here!

The figure entered the cavern, and the light reflected off them like they were an angel. And as they stepped up to the pedestal, the light almost seemed to form a crown around them, claiming them.

Oh God, everything was wrong and she should not be here.

She had begun to cry at some point, silent tears that streamed down her face, and she made no move to wipe them away.

The figure’s hands inched closer and closer to the pendant and she should stop them, they should not have the pendant, that terrible, terrible pendant. But, she could not move, her entire body rejected entering the cavern.

They picked up the pendant, holding it reverently in front of their face, before stringing it around their neck.

“Finally,” their breath of pure shock and accomplishment echoed through the cavern and rang in her ears. “I’ve finally done it.”

They shouldn’t have the pendant. They ran their fingers along each gem, lingering on each, and she wanted to tear their fingers from it, to pry them away from the thing they should not have. But their fingers stilled at a gem, a single gem, and both of them looked at that gem in pure horror.

“No,” The figure whispered, their finger twitching as movement returned to it and it frantically traced the gem again and again. “This can’t be.”

The gem was pink, and its glow was so, so faint, nearly flickering. And while every other gem was clamped to the pendant with three small hooks, the pink gem hung out wrong, sideways, broken from to chains.

“Fuck!” They swore, slamming their palm down on the pedestal, the sound crackling through the air, sharp and painful.

And it is that sound that finally broke through her stupor, but as the figure turned around, she did not rush them as she should. She did not try to pry the pendant away from them. She- she hid.

She hid and watched the figure leave, and only when the passage began to close did she follow. By the time she left, she knew that the figure had left the school entirely.

The raven cawed at Rosie as her tears joined the now pouring rain.

[nitewrighter]

Should Have Brought the Cat Ears

Wanted to do a quick fankid Special for Halloween in the spirit of the season. Jaime wasn’t in last year’s special, so he gets a spotlight this year!!!

---

“You don’t like it?” McCree tilted his head as they both stood over the plastic armor and replica blaster laid out on Jaime’s bed.

“It’s not that I don’t like it---” Jaime started.

“If you don’t like it, it’s fine, I’m really not trying to guilt you---”

“Just--don’t you think I’m a little... old for this sort of thing?” said Jaime. He caught himself and looked between his adoptive fathers, McCree donning ripped flannel, yellow contacts, and wolf ears and Hanzo in a more clean-cut Vampire costume. Jaime tried to recover. “I just--I was never really big on Halloween. Not really a dress-up guy.”

“It’s not that costume-y--It’s cool--” McCree gave a glance to Hanzo, “I mean--it’s cool, right?” McCree pressed his fingertips to his forehead, “Oh god I’m old.”

‘You’re not old,” Hanzo said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s Dranek Fang from They Came Beyond The Moon 5: Moonpunchers! I mean what’s not cool about a space bounty hunter?” said McCree, gesturing back at the costume. His face dropped. “It’s weird because I bought it, isn’t it?”

“Little bit,” said Jaime.

“Well you weren’t buying a costume, and if you’re going to the party---”

“Come on, everyone there’s like...practically 20 or whatever. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be all cutesy bobbing for apples and stuff.”

“If you’re not going to wear the costume can you at least wear the safety cat ears?” said McCree.

“The safety what?” said Jaime.

Hanzo held up a pair of cat ears, “These cat ears were first gifted to me by your Uncle Genji during my first Halloween on the watchpoint--”

“Why do the cat ears have lore--” Jaime started.

“For the express purpose of, quote, ‘Not looking like a standoffish stick-in-the-mud at a costume party,’” Hanzo finished.

“I don’t need the cat ears,” Jaime said flatly.

“You’re gonna want the cat ears,” said McCree.

“I don’t want the cat ears,” said Jaime.

“He doesn’t want the cat ears,” said Hanzo.

McCree inhaled and exhaled, clearly trying hard not to take the rejection of the costume personally, and also possibly at war with himself with regards to whether or not he had any concept of what ‘cool’ was anymore. “All right. It’s cool. It’s cool. You don’t have to wear a costume. You don’t have to bring the cat ears.”

“Thank you,” said Jaime. 

---

“I should have brought the cat ears,” Jaime muttered to himself.

“What was that?” Rei was standing in the doorway to the watchpoint hangar, dressed in a purple grecian gown with runny black mascara and a flower crown of wine-colored peonies. The costume actually went very well with her dark hair and the gray-white streak at her temple.

“Nothing,” muttered Jaime, moving past Rei, “What are you supposed to be?”

“Persephone!” said Rei with a dramatic flourish, “Goddess of Spring and Queen of the Underworld!”

“That’s... specific...” said Jaime, walking into the hangar. It was fully decorated for halloween, with Hard-light ghosts swaying from the ceiling and orange fairy lights strung up everywhere. Dry ice fog seeped out from over the two punch bowls. It was a bigger party than expected. Those in attendance aside from the Watchpoint kids were a couple of younger Shambali acolytes--both human and omnic, a veritable swarm of Lindholm grandkids, Mei’s intern Harper Khiang (Who, surprisingly was in some sort of form-fitting anime costume rather than a bee costume) and a few of her friends from Lijiang, and the Oxton triplets had flown in from London only to be off in their triplet clique as usual. There was music playing and a handful were noncommittally dancing, and everyone, everyone, everyone was in costumes. 

“You’re gonna want the cat ears,” Jaime remembered McCree’s voice and felt an extra sting of regret.

“You made it!” Aedan sidled up alongside the two of them as they entered, carrying two cups of bright red punch and handing one of the cups off to Rei, “We were scared you weren’t going to come.”

Jaime’s eyes flicked up and down Aedan’s costume: The black toga, the dark circles under his eyes, the laurel-like headdress that looked like thorny withered twigs painted gold. “Seriously?” said Jaime.

“Hades,” Rei said in an even deeper, more dramatic voice, “King of the--”

“Yeah. I put it together,” said Jaime, looking between them, “Really? A couple’s costume? You don’t think that’s corny?”

“I kind of like it,” said Aedan, glancing down at himself, “I feel... powerful.”

Jaime snorted. “She should be Hades, and you should be Persephone.”

“I think I make a good Hades,” muttered Aedan.

“Which one of you has the completely unhinged mother?” said Jaime.

Aedan glanced off and sipped his punch.

“No no, it fits, because Persephone definitely kicks more butt than Hades,” said Rei, “She’s more vengeful and stuff.”

“This conversation is doing wonders for my self-esteem,” said Aedan flatly.

“Could be worse,” said Rei, pushing into him with her shoulder, affectionately, “We could be furries.”

“For the last time, I’m a sexy leopard! Not a furry!” Marti called from the punch table.

“The fact that you say a leopard can be sexy lends credence to the furry theory,” said Aedan. 

“Call me a furry again and I’m putting my drag queen acrylics to good use,” said Marti, making a clawing motion with her long sparkly black and gold nails.

“Come on, Lord of the Underworld,” said Rei, hooking her arm in Aedan’s and dragging him off, “Let’s go dance.”

“Try the punch!” Aedan called to Jaime as Rei pulled him over to the dance floor.

Jaime huffed and walked over to the punch bowl, where Marti was poking at a small hard-light goblin that loomed over a bowl of snack mix and was programmed to harmlessly swipe at whoever was grabbing the mix.

“Would have thought you would be at a cool party,” said Jaime, filling up his own cup with punch. There were two punch bowls--alcoholic and non-alcoholic. Jaime opted for the former.

“This is the cool party,” said Marti, wrinkling her nose at him. Despite picking a fairly generic costume, even she had gone all out with a pretty high quality bodysuit, perming her hair into a curly mane with two small buns wrapped in gold ribbon at the front serving as her ‘ears,’ thick winged eyeliner, and, as she had clawed with earlier, impeccable acrylic nails, “So I’m guessing your costume is... very fresh zombie?”

“Har-har,” said Jaime, sipping his punch. It tasted like a complicated combination of apple, pomegranate, cranberry and ginger ale, with a light caramel undertone of whiskey, so he assumed Aedan made it. It was enough to loosen him up a little bit, but not enough to stop his hyperawareness of being the only one without a costume, “I don’t see why costumes are such a big deal.”

“Well they don’t have to be,” said Marti.

“Exactly!” said Jaime.

“But it’s nice to see what everyone picks. Kind of reflects what they’re interested in, where their minds are at.”

“Your mind is at ‘Sexy cat?’” said Jaime.

“My mind is at, ‘I’m always bogged down in black-ops gear, so it’s nice to be a little flashy, but I don’t like being the center of attention, but I might as well look good for anyone who’s looking at me,’” said Marti.

Jaime glanced at Aedan and Rei out on the dancefloor. “...fuck, they picked the death gods because they nearly died, didn’t they?”

“They basically did die. Can’t say they don’t have a sense of humor,” said Marti, sipping her own punch.

Jaime leaned against the snack table folding his arms. “Where are the twins?” he asked, looking around.

“You mean where’s Samir?” said Marti, smiling a little. Jaime scoffed and glanced off.

“I feel like I would have seen them already. They always put glowy doodads on their costumes,” said Jaime.

“See? You want to see what their costumes are!” said Marti, “Why are you down on dressing up yourself?”

Jaime shrugged. “Just... either never really had the chance to, or when I did have the chance I couldn’t decide, and then when the day finally came I’d always feel stupid if I was dressed up.”

Marti gave his arm a sympathetic pat.

The music stopped and the lights suddenly dimmed and Jaime looked over to Marti to make sure this was planned, or to ask if they should check in with Orisa or Satya for a potential breach, but Marti just calmly sipped her punch as a bright blue teleporter opened in the middle of the dance floor. A brief hush fell over the crowd on the dance floor, looking at the teleporter, when suddenly a bulky, heroic-looking gleaming white and blue mech suit (a normal, human-sized mech suit, but still a mech suit) stepped through. The mech suit struck a pose as the music suddenly kicked back on again. Jaime glanced over to see that Harper had hurried over to the DJ table to turn the music back on. The mech suit danced and Rei and the others laughed and clapped and cheered as the mech suit shimmied and bounced. Then another (also normal, human-sized) mech suit stepped out of the teleporter. This one was clearly meant to be the villain, with sharp acute angles all over its frame, broad sharp shoulders and a cinched waist, long claws on its gauntlets, a dark iridescent color scheme, and glowing red eyes. The teleporter closed behind him.

“Oh no! Look out behind you!” Harper called out theatrically from the DJ’s table.

The bulkier mech suit had barely turned around when it got blasted by what looked like a laser beam from the ‘evil’ mech, but turned out to be completely fine. The mechs mock-battled with blunted, hard-light swords for a few seconds before, with one spectacular simultaneous upward slash, both dematerialized the other’s helmet, revealing the Amari twins--Rajeev the hero mech, and Samir the villain mech. The dance floor clapped, Marti snickered and did her best to clap with a punch cup in one hand.

“...they don’t usually go all out like that,” said Jaime, “Do they?”

“This is the most people we’ve had in our generation on the watchpoint in years,” said Marti, “They wanted to do something special.”

“Oh... I see,” said Jaime, watching as Samir conversed with Rei and Aedan as Rajeev pretty much tackled Harper and swung her around, “This night is just engineered to make me feel like more and more of an asshole for not wearing a costume, huh?” said Jaime sipping his punch.

“We aren’t doing this to you,” said Marti, “I mean we’re still on the watchpoint. Maybe you can run back to your place and---”

“Hey,” said Samir, walking over and Jaime choked on his punch.

“Hey!” said Jaime, attempting to nonchalantly lean back against the table and awkwardly scooting it back as he did so.

“Fearless leader,” Samir gave a nod to Marti.

“Nope,” said Marti, “No fearless leader tonight. Tonight, there is only sexy leopard getting increasingly wasted on Halloween punch.”

“It’s good to see sexy leopard,” said Samir.

“It’s good to be sexy leopard,” said Marti, tossing her empty cup away, “Anyway, I’m going to go try and burn some of Aedan’s banshee booze off. Don’t get into trouble.”

“Yeah sure--” Jaime started before it hit him that Marti was leaving them to hit the dance floor. 

“I uh--I like the whole...” Jaime gestured up and down at Samir’s costume.

“It was Rajeev’s idea,” said Samir with a grin, “Can you tell?”

“Yeah. Definitely,” said Jaime, “You pull it off though.”

“It’s all hard-light,” said Samir, looking down at himself as he filled his own cup with the non-alcoholic punch, “Like, honestly I’m just in a unitard under this.”

“Well yeah, but it’s like... good,” said Jaime.

“Thank you,” said Samir, “I actually..” he chuckled, “I spent like, a stupid amount of time on this.” 

“Why?” the question fell out of Jaime.

“It was nice to make something out of Hard-light that didn’t have anything to do with a mission. I got into it,” said Samir.

“You also gave yourself heels,” said Jaime, looking down.

Samir motioned with his hand and the soles of his boots dematerialized down to his regular height. He still stood a solid four inches over Jaime.

“...Ass,” said Jaime as Samir re-materialized the soles of his boots.

“Happy Halloween to you too,” said Samir as they both sipped their drinks and looked out at the dance floor. They watched as Rajeev hoisted up a laughing Harper amid the din of the music. Harper’s form-fitting costume suddenly made a lot more sense with Rajeev right next to her.

“Oh I get it--she’s a mech pilot and he’s---” Jaime huffed, “Fucking couple’s costumes.”

“Hey, Rajeev and I are still doing twin costumes--what does that tell you about us?” said Samir.

“That like... you can actually make the twin costume thing really cool if you put some thought into it?” said Jaime.

“No--Well, I mean, yes,” said Samir, “But my point is the whole night is about not taking yourself too seriously.”

“Mm,” said Jaime.

They watched the dance floor for a little bit. Samir grabbed a handful of snacks from the snackbowl and gave a small jump as the hard-light goblin suddenly swiped at him as he did so.

“You’re not going to bring up the whole ‘Where’s your costume’ thing?” said Jaime after a while.

“Some people don’t have time for it, some people aren’t comfortable with it, it’s not a big deal,” said Samir, shrugging.

“...Thanks,” said Jaime. He looked out at the dance floor. “Though...honestly, at this point I kind of wish I did dress up.”

“Oh--psh. I can fix that. Here--” Samir stepped in front of him and pressed something at his wrist, activating the hard-light projector before putting his hands above Jaime’s head. Jaime reddened and sipped his drink and attempted to be as nonchalant as possible about feeling Samir’s fingers against his hair. There was a soft ‘vworp’ sound and Jaime felt a soft pressure on two points on his head and Samir drew his hands back.  “There we go,” said Samir.

Jaime reached up and felt at his head, feeling two pointed shapes.

“...Cat ears?” said Jaime.

“I like cats. They’re the simplest ones I can make. If you don’t like them I could make like... horns--I could probably make antlers if I had a couple minutes--”

“No. I like them,” said Jaime instantly, “They’re perfect. I’m a cat.”

“A sexy cat,” said Samir with a finger gun. As coolheaded as Samir could be, there were definitely moments where you could tell, well beyond looks, that he was Rajeev’s identical twin.

Jaime snorted and looked down at his clothes, “What about this says ‘sexy cat?’”

“The fact that it’s you in cat ears?” said Samir.

Jaime scoffed and snickered. “That’s bad,” he said.

“Yeah I know,” said Samir, hooking Jaime’s arm in his and pulling him away from the punch table, “Come on, let’s dance.”

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

snake eyes

not the next Fae AU chapter update, but instead a short fic that is based on the best damn joke in this AU that I owe my life for

Maya has been gone for about ten minutes, which is about the point that Phoenix starts to worry - not, necessarily, for her sake, but rather the sake of everyone whose paths she may have crossed in that time. He feels less like a lawyer and more a sort of tour guide, sometimes, explaining cultural mores to a group that makes the stakes are much higher than their embarrassment or causing offense to others. (Culturally, the fae do not brush it off or forget it if someone offends them. Even Mia didn't. And culturally, there's a lot humans can do to offend the fae.)

So Phoenix is starting to worry and about to get up to make sure that there wasn't a catastrophe of magic at the front desk - he doesn't know what they wanted with Maya, the bellboy didn't say - when he spots Maya far down at the end of the hallway. The first thing he notices is that she is slumped halfway down the wall, barely holding herself upright at all; the second thing he notices is that her hair, at the ends, is dissipating into black smog. Pearl, next to him, clambering down from her chair because she too has seen Maya, still looks like an ordinary little girl, and Maya's skin is still brown, still human-appearing. It isn't a problem with Phoenix's eyes - it is a problem with Maya's glamour, and now he is worried.

Now he is worried for her.

Gumshoe is talking to one of the other detectives and Lotta seems to have run off elsewhere, so no one gives Phoenix a glance as he ushers Pearl ahead of him down the hall. Maya's skin is shifting colors when they reach her, patchy, like a few splotches of purple paint were spilled onto her skin, and her eyes are hellfire red but still with black irises. Phoenix helps her up by the elbow - her hand is clapped to the side of her neck, claws starting to protrude on two of her fingers. The other hand is pressed against her stomach. "Maya! What happened?"

Pearl flings herself into Maya's side like a little limpet, her eyes starting to burn red now too, and the hotel lights shining just a little strangely off of her skin. "He attacked me," Maya rasps. Her mouth doesn't fully close when she isn't speaking, her teeth too big for it, but some parts of her glamour still trying to hold themselves up. "Stabbed - with."

He looks about for somewhere to go, spots a bathroom sign down another corridor and helps Maya stumble along with him. This isn’t a good place to be, so close to the scene of a crime, so close to so many police, with Maya’s broken glamour, but there is a door for a single-stalled restroom next to the two gendered ones and Phoenix falls into it with Maya. When he lets go of her to lock the door, she nearly topples to the floor, nearly brings Pearl down with her. “Stabbed with what?" Phoenix asks, trying to pry her hand away from her neck, and her claws go from digging into her own skin to his, with a force just shy of drawing blood. The skin on the side of her neck is purple, and darkening to gray in the shape of a welt around a small puncture. A needle? "Who did, Maya?"

"Bellboy," she says. "A - thing. Needle thing. The - with - inside it."

"A syringe?" he asks.

Her claws on his arm loosen. "Thing!" she cries. He thinks that might be confirmation. "Drugs!"

One thing Phoenix never, ever wanted to know was what one of the fae acts like on drugs.

"Said - kidnapping."

"He told you he was kidnapping you?" That seems like a weird way to go about kidnapping someone, just telling them that. Maybe he thought the drugs would kick in sooner, or fully. He probably didn't know what Maya was. He probably thought the injection would knock her out, if she was human. "Did he say why?"

Maya releases his arm entirely and slumps down further toward the floor. "Why?" she repeats. "Why why?"

"Humans don't usually go around just kidnapping people, Maya," Phoenix says, feeling half like a tour guide again, and half like the voiceover on a nature documentary. "Not like you guys do."

"We don't!" Pearl says indignantly. Her eyes flash red entirely, and then they aren't, and she has a thumb, a claw, to her mouth. "Erm, not often. And only little babies. But rarely!"

For all he's been tangled up in, Phoenix has never met a changeling, and if he hasn't, then it probably is rare. "It's okay, Pearls," he says, even though really, that isn't, at all. "I'm just saying, it's a very, very bad thing among humans." Honestly, a bad thing for the fae to do, too, but he's going to leave that for another day. "So he tried to drug you, and the drug didn't take, and you got away - where did he go?" Maya's eyes are closed. Her face twists in disgust. Her mouth is stretching wider, slowly, across her cheeks, toward her jaw. "Maya? Where did he go, Maya?"

"Ate him."

Some days Phoenix wishes Mia had just let him fucking die. "You ate him?!"

Logically, he has known for a long time that she could. She told him as much, and she can't lie, even as much as Phoenix tried to assure himself (lie to himself) that she was exaggerating when she said she could unhinge her jaw like a snake and swallow a person. She had learned how to use the office computer just to look up videos of snakes for a visualization that Phoenix did not want.

"Yeah," she says. Her mouth drops open and her tongue lolls out. She looks a little sick.

"You can't just eat people, Maya!"

"Even when they want to hurt me?"

"You..."

It's self-defense, wasn't it? She didn't act unprovoked - and more than that, it wasn't like she answered a slight with an extreme. He tried to drug and kidnap her. He deserved something coming to him for that.

"Mr Nick!" Pearl smacks him hard on the leg with an open palm, which he is grateful for, because it means she has taken to heart his lesson about not swatting him with claws because he only has so many pairs of slacks to wear with his suit if she shreds one. "He hurt the Mystic! He deserves it!"

"If you say so, Nick," Maya says, grabbing onto his arm and hoisting herself up, still curled over herself a little, still supporting herself on the wall. She doesn't have to do what he said - there was no deal, no contract made, not at this moment. (He probably should figure out what he can afford to bargain away to seal this, though.) "He tasted real bad anyway."

"Wh - what?"

Snakes can regurgitate their meals, for several reasons, including if they ate something far too big to handle. (Maya called this weak, implying that she could handle eating absolutely anything. Maya spent several days researching snakes. The Twilight Realm doesn't have much in the way of wildlife, apparently.) Phoenix did not really ever need in his life to know that. What he certainly did not need to know is that Maya could do the same.

She opens her mouth like a fancy trashcan popping open with a foot pedal, the top of her head just moving in a way it shouldn't, back, to make room for her gaping black maw with its two rows of teeth, and she makes a horrible heaving noise. Phoenix closes his eyes when the wide circle of her mouth, its ring of teeth, starts expanding, and the second gagging sound is drowned out by a heavy thud. With the impact, the floor near Phoenix's feet vibrates.

He opens his eyes.

Before them, picking himself up from where he lays sprawled on the floor, is a man - the bellboy, Phoenix realizes, the uniform and the black gloves and the monocle and the scar down his face. It's a distinctive appearance but somehow if Phoenix had tried to bring it to mind a moment ago, he doesn't think he could have. (There is some sort of magic in forgettability, Maya said once, about the one prosecutor that Phoenix can't remember except that his hair was stupid.)

"You know," the man, the kidnapper, says, adjusting his monocle and slowly standing, dusting off his jacket, "Something I like to say is that people are often not what they appear to be, but you, madam" - he inclines his head to Maya like she didn't just vomit him back into existence entirely unharmed, and when Phoenix looks at her, she is still patchily somewhere between fae and human in appearance - "have informed me that perhaps I have become lax in how I take heed of my own words."

He has small, heavy-lidded eyes that Phoenix can't tell the color of, but with the Sight, there is nothing for Phoenix to see to signify that he has it - and that they look to this kidnapper any more than this half-human horror and an ordinary man and an ordinary little girl, all standing in a bathroom. What must he be thinking right now?

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a course of action I must reconsider, and" - he bows, this time, again to Maya - "may we never meet again."

By the time Phoenix processes exactly all of this - that Maya eating someone doesn't necessarily mean that she killed him, and that the kidnapper seems to have taken this remarkably in stride - and realizes that, Maya's wrath or no, that man is a kidnapper and there is hotel security that needs to be alerted to this situation - "Hey! Wait!" - he is long gone, and Phoenix is standing outside a restroom about a dozen yards from a crime scene.

A murder and an attempted kidnapping. What a night.

“Hey, Nick.” Maya is on the threshold, still leaning heavily on the wall, her hair still darkly wisping, but her skin has smoothed over and her eyes merely look bloodshot. “Pearly said there was a murder? Let’s check it out!”

“The Jammin’ Ninja was killed,” Phoenix says, unable to actually remember the names of the actors, “and the Nickel Samurai is under suspicion.”

“Then we have to do something!” Maya pushes herself up off the wall and stands triumphantly with her fists raised for about a second before stumbling forward and nearly knocking Phoenix off his feet. He staggers and winces as her claws dig into his arm in her attempts to regain stability. “You have to defend him, Nick!”

Is he seriously going to get badgered into defending another one of her favorite TV heroes? “I do?”

“Yes! I nearly died, Nick! Do it for me!”

“You did not nearly--”

“Nick! You’re a defense attorney! You have to! He’s a hero! The Nickel Samurai would never!”

He can feel his Nick the cultural translator persona clawing its way to the front of his skull again. “Maya - you do know that these TV shows are fiction, right?”

[awfully-sadistic]

Like Fitting a Circle in a Square Peg

Note: Clearly taking some liberty with things. Just go along with the flow. :)

“Hey, Sy, help me with this shit.” Bennett Graves was at the back side of the Haushold, trying to pull something in one of the doors not most commonly used. Of course, the purpose of this door was the very same reason for Bennett’s use. He wanted to bring something in the Haus without many people asking too many questions. Among the other many places he could have brought this contraption inside, he had severely miscalculated the height. He could fit the thing in sideways but it was just too tall to even attempt. Yet he was a stubborn man and figured he could force it inside, after all, it was what he did with everything else in his life. It hasn’t failed him before!

At his name, Sydell turned and Bennett could see that his lip already upturned in disgust. It was the man’s trademark besides the two-toned hair of black and white that earned him the nickname “Skunkface” and the other variations he had abhorred. Yeah, thanks for that, Felina. And was Bennett seriously asking for his help? No, that won’t do. The man had been at this particular portion of the Haus to deal with his shady contacts and dealings and didn’t have time for Bennett’s ridiculous requests. And he looked entirely foolish with what he was trying to do. Whatever it was.

“In this moment of dread I find myself unable to stand. I’m sorry. I can’t follow through with your request.” Sydell absently muttered while turning back to his laptop.

“Dude,” Bennett looked irritated as shit. “All I’m asking is for you to lift the other fucking side--”

“I can’t go on.” He drawled dramatically and even pretended to faint over the back of the chair. This in turn caused Bennett to react in anger, since he was already on the struggle bus, and with enough strength, kicked the chair out from under Sydell. However, Sydell never touched the floor. He was standing up on his own steady feet, looking appalled. Very much like that Ryan Gosling gif that the Fancy Club members use.

“You’re incredibly lucky I’m quick on my feet,” he put huffily while snapping his collar to gain back some sort of dignity. Sydell, like the rest of the inner Family and most members, was not a human. Much like Bennett was a shifter, Sydell was the opposite. A fellow Vampire. Perhaps he indulged in too much of the Gothic appearance to make it obvious and he didn’t mean shopping at Hot Topic, but Sydell certainly looked like one, too. His fangs glistened against the overhead lights as he regarded Bennett with a sneer now. “What the hell are you doing anyway? Do I need to inform Dot?”

“You keep her name out ya mouth,” Bennett grunted, turning back to his task. “And no, you don’t need to tell Dot. She already knows about this shit.”

Sydell looked skeptical. As fuck. Bennett didn’t notice since he was still trying to pull an entire... what was that?

“Bennett, what the fuck is that?”

“It’s that Doom guy’s time machine.”

Sydell was now doing the white guy blink. “Uh. No, it’s not.”

“BITCH, I SAID WHAT I SAID. YES IT IS.” Bennett snapped with a throw over his shoulder. “FOOL SAID I CAN’T STEP FOOT IN HIS COUNTRY, BANNED. CAN YA BELIEVE THAT?”

“Yes, I actually can--”

“BEING BANNED AIN’T GONNA STOP THIS DADDY FROM MEETIN’ BABYGIRL BACK IN 2016.”

“It’s...” Sydell shut his mouth and put his fist against his lips. “Mn. I just. I can’t.” He put his hands up before reaching over to unplug his laptop from the wall and then grabbed his laptop. “I can’t be a part of this. Victor is a member of the Club so I have to tell him.”

Bennett dropped the time machine platform so fast, the heavy thud actually made a couple of objects around the room clatter in response. “The. FUCK. You. Will.” he ground out between teeth. “I’m going to beat you to a pulp and leave you at the Fancy Club doorstep as a present.”

But Sydell already has his phone out. “You can’t do this, Bennett.”

Bennett looked panicked for a second because his plan was about to go out through the goddamn window when Sydell sent that text--no doubt Haushold wide--and word got out. It’ll only be a matter of time before Doom comes along, fussing and kicking up a storm and then Bennett won’t be able to go back to meet Dot for that entire year. His intention was just to hide the time machine in his room--not like he was ever in it, anyway, and no one goes into it, either. Then he’d be able to use the time machine anytime he wanted.

Frankly, it sounded like a good idea at the time. But Bennett never thought things through. He just did things. Thinking shit through was Bene’s job and well, Bene wasn’t here right now. Cavon would have been there, but it was tough for Cav to do any favors when it concerned Dot. Bennett looked around and figured he could just throw the time machine into the forest and act stupid when everyone came into the room to see what Bennett was doing. Sydell was already pressing send and lifting his head to tell Bennett that Doom was already on his way and only caught Bennett’s leg as he darted out the door and ran across the platform.

Bennett’s intention was to pick the thing up from the otherside and yeet it so fucking hard across the yard, he was already half-shifted when he was stepping onto the platform. He was going to need all of the strength he could use. However, something strange happened once Bennett shifted as he simultaneously planted his foot on the platform. It started to glow and whir to life. Bennett paused mid-shift, looking confused. 

“What the fu--”

“Bennett, what the hell did you--”

The rectangular pad glowed to life like a bright fluorescent light underneath Bennett’s half-wolf paws. Then, it started to raise and from Sydell’s point of view, it looked like it had been eating Bennett from the bottom up.

“Bennett!” Sydell shouted, reaching forward for his Brother. But it was too late. Bennett was completely gone and the platform was slowly humming, shutting down and reverting to its previous dormant state. Sydell looked around, not seeing Bennett anywhere.

“Shit.”

Bennett was sitting on the ground with his eyes squeezed shut and the rest of him clenched. He sat still for at least three minutes before his eyes snapped open and he started to swing wildly around.

There was nobody and nothing there. 

Well, except the Haus. He was standing at the door he had been trying to pull Doctor Doom’s time machine through but the door was shut and when he tried the doorknob, it was locked.

“The fuck?” he muttered under his breath, looking around. Everything looked the same except he didn’t see Sydell and the time machine wasn’t at his feet anymore. “The fuck is going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to ask.”

Bennett spun around at the oh-so familiar voice of one of the Patriarchs. He exhaled deeply, coming face to... well, chest, with Angelino Frenzy. He backed up a couple of steps, his petulant expression wiped off his face so fast. The voice was familiar but... Angelino looked different. Younger. Much younger. His hair had some color, younger. Granted, he was still graying but there had been years shaved off him here.

“Gramps?” he asked, confused.

Angelino looked incredibly surprised, looking around to see if there was someone’s grandpa around on the grounds. When he realized he was the only one around, he looked even further confused. “Are you lost, ehm...?”

“It’s me, Angelino! Bennett!”

“I don’t know a Bennett...” Angelino looked thoughtful thinking that perhaps Bennett belonged to one of the mafia families around town or if he might have belonged on staff. But that was impossible. The Haus was just built so staff hasn’t been hired yet. And it wasn’t the staff from the house in Italy where he knew the rest of his family to be. Perhaps this was Atamu’s kin? He did sort of look like he could be related to Atamu’s eldest born. But Angelino knew all of Atamu’s children and even extended family. After all, they were thicker than thieves. The very best of friends. He’d might have to ask, though, on the next prison visit.

Bennett, on the other hand, just dropped to his ass. He placed a hand over his head, groaning. “Did I fucking travel 250 years in the past?”

Angelino’s brow perked at that. Clearly this man knew him. But 250 years? “How old do I look?” He paused and then got all excited, shouting something in Italian and then pointing excitedly at Bennett. “Travel? Time travel? Are you a futureman? What year did you come from?”

Bennett squinted and looked lost. Angelino wasn’t too entirely different from his older self and was just as gullible; granted, this was the truth but Angelino believed him way too easily. Perhaps it was because Angelino figured he was just so big and intimidating, who would chance lying to him?

Rubbing his neck, Bennett averted his gaze. “It’s only 2019 where I’m from, Gramps.”

“When.”

“When what?”

“When you’re from!” Angelino exclaimed, squatting down all of a sudden. This gesture took Bennett by complete surprise, he almost landed backwards. Angelino certainly was built the same, a huge hulking mass much bigger than the Alphas and the Enforcers could hope to grow.

“You believe me?” Bennett asked uncertain. Hell, he didn’t know if he believed himself. 

“Why would you lie?”

Bennett opened his mouth without thinking with the intention on claiming he was constantly a liar. A cheat. A son of a bitch but then he remembered who he was talking to and how this Angelino didn’t know him yet. Well, if anyone could force Bennett to slow down and think it was the Patriarchs. Instead, he forced a laugh while looking around. “So, what’s going on here, Gramps?”

“Why do you keep calling me Gramps?” Angelino asked, still perched in front of Bennett. “Are you related to me?”

The young Graves pulled his legs up in order to rest his arms on his knees, before shaking his head to clear all the weirdness out of it before attempting to continue. What could he say? Or rather, how could he say it?

“Eh, something like that.” he paused before wondering if he should go into more detail. He wasn’t about to admit he came back in time to attempt to spend a year with Dot to make up for the year he missed when the Families merged together for the first time. But hell, Bennett was always the type to say what he want and no matter the consequences stuck by what he said. “You and Pops--uh, Atamu--move into this place with both ya families around 2016. Then, a year later, I join the family along with the other Rockers led by Liam and Vaughn.”

Angelino’s eyes widened. “Ah. Liam.”

“Oh shit, yeah. You guys are related, huh?” Bennett laughed. “I forget that shit. And then Atamu’s brother-in-law or somethin’ move in around the same time with his company.” He paused again before asking, “Eh, what year is it here?”

Angelino looked up, thinking. “1999.”

Bennett paused himself, also looking up and doing the math. “DOT IS 10 YEARS OLD?!”

Angelino’s golden eyes darkened almost immediately. “Dot. What do you want with her?”

“THIS IS THE ENTIRE REASON I TRAVELED BACK IN TIME,” Bennett threw his hands up and would have gotten up to pace back and forth angrily if not for Angelino being dangerously close in his space. “I CAME BACK FOR HER TO SPEND THE YEAR WITH. BUT SHE’S TEN. DOT’S REALLY GOING TO BE A CHILD BRIDE! I’M GOING TO HAVE TO WAIT FOREVER FOR THIS FAMILY MERGE TO HAPPEN. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO GO FORWARD IN TIME AGAIN--” Bennett cut himself off as he made that revelation out loud and then repeated, “OH SHIT, I DON’T KNOW HOW TO GO FORWARD IN TIME, SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!” he rolled around, even punching the ground a couple of times.

This time Angelino did lean back, watching Bennett have his meltdown. It was comical from his point granted the Patriarch found mostly anything funny. From what he gathered from this time traveling stranger, in 2016, he and Atamu’s family merge like they had planned all along and it went even further, extending that merge with whatever Liam was doing then and Atamu’s brother-in-law. Fintan? He thought. That was yet another thing he’d have to ask when he visited his best friend.

“You were planning on spending an entire year with ehm, Dot, to make up for the year you hadn’t?” Angelino questioned. He may know what happens in the future now, but he didn��t understand Bennett’s story. Not completely at least.

Bennett paused, out of breath and on his back as he stared up angrily at the sky overhead. “Yeah.”

“...But you were going to leave an entire year to pass in your present?”

Bennett blinked, “What?”

“...If you are here for an entire year in the past, who is taking your spot in the present to spend time with Dot for that entire year?”

Bennett’s eyes widened. It was clear to Angelino now that he had not thought that through. He laughed. Loudly. Yep. This kid was definitely going to be one of theirs.

“We need to get you back, son.”

“GRAMPS, PLEASE.” Bennett sprung up, latching himself onto the Patriarch. “I HAVE KIDS.”

Angelino pulled Bennett back, wide-eyed. “Kids? With--?”

“DOT. WITH DOT.”

Angelino was entirely speechless. This family merging right now for him and Atamu was just an idea. It wasn’t even written down. Just something for Atamu to keep with him while he serves his life term in prison, to know his family is well taken care of and that they have a future alongside Angelino’s family. An idea that was fairly losing its steam the more the family on both sides seemed to splinter and Angelino would have to go back to Atamu with updates and less than happy news about how everyone on either side was getting along. Something was needed to draw the two families together and it had always been a nice idea that maybe what they needed was each other.

Angelino stared at Bennett now, from 2019, telling him that not only are their families together and that it grew, but that it was still growing. He should have felt the same dangerous jealousy that gripped him when Bennett first mentioned Dot. Sweet, precious rose. She was only ten years old and even then, Angelino was absolutely smitten. But he didn’t feel that jealousy now. He felt pride and an overwhelming sense of emotion that was a mixture of love and affection and happiness knowing how far they’ll make it as a merged family.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find a way back for you somehow.” Angelino didn’t know how, but he felt certain that they will find a way.

[tysonrunningfox]

Open Flames: Part 7

I did that thing where I existed in my own head about this too long and convinced myself it was awful but then I went and reread it and I’m like, this is fluff with a dash of angst and a splash of funny and Stoick, the thirteen year old brat, and no one else knows what a brat he is so this is fun fuck it.  I outlined and the next chapter is half “shenanigans”.  There are multiple places where I just have to make “shenanigans”.  Don’t let me take myself so seriously, it’s lame and it makes me act lame.  

Masterpost 

When I wake up, Fuse is gone.  I panic, all the emotional rush I was too tired to feel earlier coursing through my veins as I pat across the blankets and fall off of my bed onto the floor.  

“What was that?”  Fuse’s voice carries up the stairs and she’s here and ok and I relax with a groan, rubbing my shoulder where it hit the wooden floorboards first. 

“Eret fell out of bed,” Stoick shouts downstairs as he appears in the doorway and I blink at his silhouette.  Someone opened the door at some point.  Probably the chief.  That’s probably what woke Fuse up.  

She needs her sleep and the injustice of the chief taking that away because of some stupid rule makes me instantly, hotly angrier than I have been in a while.  Because Gods, Fuse is pregnant. It’s my baby.  She said she needed sleep and someone got in the way of that and I sit up, glaring in the general direction of the stairs.  

“Is he ok?”  Fuse asks and Stoick shrugs.  

“Is he ever?”  

“Hilarious,” I stand up, stretching my neck and shouldering him out of the doorway when he doesn’t move in time.  

“Oh, you wanna go?”  His fists hit my arm in a couple of featherweight punches that I ignore and he runs down ahead of me with a laugh, skidding into the chair beside Fuse and leaning his elbow on her shoulder.  “Too slow.”  

“How long have you been up?”  I kiss the top of Fuse’s head, batting Stoick’s arm away from her shoulder and glaring at him.  It hits me that he’s going to be an uncle, an actually related uncle and I stack that onto the feelings I don’t have time to make sense of right now.  

His Stormcutter trills at me from its roost in front of the fireplace, cocking its owlish head like it’s daring me to touch him again.  And I spent years thinking Toothless was entitled.  

“Not long.”  She looks a little better, some of her usual color back in her cheeks.  I feel like I’ve spent the last four years worried about everyone and everything and it all pales in comparison to the strange protective guilt I feel now.  I did this to her.  She’s pregnant and it’s mine and her nausea is just the first thing I can’t protect them from.  

“Do you need more tea?”  Stoick asks, too chipper, like he always is around Fuse and what’s normally kind of funny is suddenly aggravating.  

“Sure,” she goes to hand her empty mug to him and I reach for it.  

“I’ll get it for you, really.”  

“She asked me,” Stoick snatches it, sticking his tongue out at me and darting over to the fire.  I take his seat, scooting closer to her and putting my arm over her shoulders.  

“I’ll get you tea,” I insist as she leans her head against my chest with a sigh.  

“I wanted him to give you the chair,” she whispers and I snort, fiddling with the end of a tangled braid.  

“I want him to go away.”  I pull her closer to me when Stoick sets the new cup of tea in front of her and lingers for a moment, like he’s expecting praise, or something.  

“Thanks,” Fuse picks up the mug, her elbow digging into my thigh as she leans on me harder.  

“Do you need something else?”  I ask Stoick, shifting so that Fuse’s pointy elbow is gouging into a new and not yet painful part of my leg.  

“Dad caught you with your door shut,” he raises an eyebrow, pointedly scratching his chin where he insisted he found a hair last month.  

“Ok.”  

“It’s kind of funny how that’s only a rule for you,” he looks at Fuse, “it’s only a rule for him, you know--”

“No one thinks you need that rule,” Fuse cuts him off, “thanks for the tea.”  

It’s the kind of blunt dismissal only Fuse can pull off without sounding mean and I stifle my laugh in her hair, only looking up when the front door opens and the chief walks inside as Stoick slips out with his dragon, thank the Gods.  The chief looks at me knowingly, like he also thinks I’m supposed to care that he caught Fuse and I sleeping behind a closed door.  I don’t worry about him reading my mind the way I do Mom, but the secret still rises to the front of my mind.  

Fuse is pregnant.  The chief is going to freak out.  I’m still waiting to freak out.  I almost want to tell him to watch him freak out.  I bet his eyes are going to bug out of his head.  

“Good...mid-afternoon,” the chief finally seems to get that I don’t care that he caught me and Fuse sleeping, even if he doesn’t get that I have bigger things to care about.  “How’s the rebuild going?”  

“More of a build at this point.”  I shrug and Fuse sits up, leaning her elbows over the table and sniffing at her tea.  I know it’s more polite but I miss her weight against me and I also don’t care about being polite to people who don’t let Fuse and I sleep without inviting Stoick’s assistance.  “It’s going fine, Ingrid gained the trust of a couple locals so I think I can trust it not to fall apart for a couple of weeks.”  

Gods, how could I leave?  

That thought smacks me like a war hammer at exactly at the wrong time, while I’m trying to look normal and talk to the chief.  Fuse already had to put this together while alone, she already had to figure out how to tell me.  It hits me that she had something half scripted because she was nervous, like talking to me had become such a phenomenon she had to plan for it, and I want to tell someone else, anyone else to take things over.  

“That’s good news,” he grins, “I could use your help shoring Berk up.  We had some spring flooding over on the East bay and dealing with it has been a pain.”

“It has,” Fuse agrees, sipping slowly from her mug, “I’ve been trying to help with a secondary dam but it’s slow.”  

“And while that’s taking both our time, everything else is stumbling along without much supervision.”  The chief smiles at Fuse.  They’ve made peace, I guess, and I’m glad, given the circumstances, especially because I’m remembering that I look like him when I smile and as much as I like to ignore it, he’s my actual father.  

And even though I’ve come to respect and even like him as a chief when he’s not trying to marry me off, I wouldn’t say I’ve largely benefitted from his attempts at parenting considering they involved trying to marry me off.  

There it is, the start of a freak out, at least now I know I’m not suddenly stable or anything like that.  

“Aurelia is doing her best,” Fuse says a little defensively, like she’s not as cheery with the chief as he seems to be with her, “but she’s been spending a lot of time trying to track down anything about those trappers by going through the last few months of communication.”  

“Yeah.”  My voice cracks and Fuse frowns at me.  

Oh Gods, it’s already happening, Fuse is the one pregnant and she’s looking at me like she’s worried about me and I’m going to have to leave in a couple of weeks and if she marries me, it’s all about heirs.  Or it would be if the chief ever actually handed over the title.  Fuse has to know that, she thinks of everything, but I’m just stumbling through the concept now.  I can’t breathe.  I rub my chest with my knuckles, pushing hard enough that my bruise throbs and my lungs remember what they’re supposed to be doing.  

“Ouch, what happened there?”  The chief asks, as if it matters, as if I’m not already making everything about me.  

“Smitelout,” Fuse frowns and I squeeze her shoulder.  

“No, it’s--I’m fine, chief.  I’ll check in with Aurelia and get up to speed.  And Fuse, don’t worry about helping him with the East Bay situation, I’m on it.”  

“I can help,” she insists and it makes her look more tired.  I kiss her on the forehead and stand up.  

“You shouldn’t have to.  I’m on it, ok?”

“Eret,” she huffs and eyebrows a straight, frustrated line as she stands up, “I said I’ve got it.”  

“Ok,” I back up, gesturing between her and the chief, “just let me know if you need help--”

“I will,” she looks at the bruise on my chest again and I wish I’d paused to put my shirt back on, it just feels like another way I’m drawing attention when I shouldn’t be.  

“We’ve got it,” the chief tries to comfort me with a grin I can see straight through.  He’s assessing me like he’s been doing a lot lately and I can’t tell if he’s seeing something he doesn’t like or missing something he wishes he were seeing.  I don’t know what else I could possibly do, but obviously, what I’m doing isn’t right or enough.  

“If you need anything--”

“I get that,” he cuts me off, “but I bet Fuse and I can handle it.”  

“I could handle it--”

“I know you could handle it, Eret,” the chief sighs, “and I know I messed up with the whole betrothal thing, but you can’t keep being everything to everyone all the time.  Trust me, you just end up missing out and not on the things you want to miss out on.”  

Fuse blanches at the mention of a betrothal and I’m worried she’s going to throw up.  I hate to say it, but the chief is right, I’m already missing out.  Fuse had to learn she was pregnant without me here, she had to talk to Rolf.  I haven’t even apologized for that yet.  I can’t imagine the dual nausea of talking to Rolf while pregnant.    

The chief is staring at me like he expects an answer and Fuse looks worried, because I’m still making her worry about me instead of the other way around.  

“Ok.”  

“Ok, you’ll relax a bit?”  

I barely bite back asking the chief why he hasn’t crowned me yet and if his reason really is that I’m doing too much and not relaxing enough.  

“I’ll go talk to Aurelia,” I get out instead, turning to focus on Fuse because the idea of walking away from her right now is physically painful.  “If--I mean, you’re good, right?”  

“She’s fine,” the chief rolls his eyes, “you’re going to worry yourself gray at this rate.”  

“Like father like son,” I mumble and the chief’s eyes light up, happy at the comparison.  We’ll see about that, chief, considering Fuse is already frustrated with me and it’s still day one.  

00000

“Can I have this wood?” Arvid asks me at the woodpile, one morning when I’ve been home about a week.  He has Wingspark loaded up with an unusually large stack of long, straight logs, their bark removed.

“Why?”  

“Because I need it for a project,” he shrugs, “Mom wants to build a house.”  

“Again, why?”  

He shrugs again, staring at me unblinking but bored and I look at the woodpile behind me, full despite how much he took.  I guess our loggers were a little overzealous in replacing what we took to rebuild Elva’s island with.  

“Fuck it, sure, just write it down, alright?”  

“No problem,” he clicks at Wingspark and she lumbers along after him, pausing to sniff at my hand for a treat.  I don’t have anything but I scratch behind her horn, looking thoughtfully after Arvid for a second.  

I expected lying to be harder.  I expected everyone to be asking after us all the time.  But in reality, aside from the quiet and increasing desperation I have to check on Fuse every morning, nothing outwardly looks much different.  

Yet.  

I want to ask when that’s going to change, because in a lot of ways that’s a deadline for figuring out how to tell people or what to tell people, but I don’t think it’s necessarily something Fuse wants to talk about.  She doesn’t seem to want to talk at all, actually, I think it would get in the way of her nap-on-me time, which has really seemed to take priority. Between that and my convince-Fuse-to-eat-something routine, we haven’t had time or privacy for anything else.

And I know I shouldn’t push her, because she’s the one dealing with more of this than I am, and I know she wants to keep it a secret just like I do, but not talking about it is killing me.  And if I were going to tell someone, which I’m not, because Fuse doesn’t want to, Arvid would be very close to the top of that theoretical list, if not at the very top of it. It’s a tie between him and Aurelia, honestly.  Maybe my dad is up there too, although I think he’s bound by some parental contract to tell Mom, and she’s the bottom of the list.  

Only because of the way she’d look at me though, all disappointed and reserved, like she’s waiting for me to finish acting before she decides how pissed she is.  I wish I had her advice right now. I wish I had anyone’s advice.  

“Why does Mom want to build a house?”  I call after Arvid, fighting every urge to run and catch up with him while my to do list for the day weighs me down where I stand.  

“Ask her,” he shrugs again, “I just said I’d help, I’ve been getting enough practice at it.”

I have a sneaking suspicion that he knows more than he’s letting on, which honestly became a given ever since he married Aurelia and spends all his time absorbing the information she radiates like a Nightmare  putting out warmth, but I don’t have time or energy to investigate it right now.  Especially now that he reminded me of all the houses being built on Elva’s island and the fact that I’m supposed to go back there in a week.  

It’s a thought I manage to shake until I’m home and surrounded by papers on my bed and Fuse appears in the doorway.  

“Hey!”  I stack all of letters riddled with Aurelia’s notes and shove them to the side, giving Fuse a place to sit.  “What’s up?  

“Stoick let me in,” she explains, pointing down the stairs with her thumb and lingering in the doorway, “are you busy?”  

“Not that busy,” I pat my bed, “how are you?”  

She deliberates for a second before shutting the door behind her and sitting down beside me, “fine.”  

“Fine?”  I laugh, my hand rubbing her lower back through the smooth leather of her vest, “not nauseous?  That’s great!”

“I was nauseous earlier,” she puts down the letter, “but it passed and now I feel alright.  How about you?”  

“I’m not nauseous--wait, that’s not what you’re asking.”  I wipe my forehead, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m--mmph.”  

She cuts me off with a kiss, lingering like she hasn’t been, her hand cupping my jaw and sliding down to my shoulder.  It’s the kind of kiss that makes the closed door compete with the idea of Stoick being downstairs and when Fuse’s tongue slips briefly into my mouth, the door starts winning.  Fuse knows me too well because she pulls back with a tired smile and glances at my stack of papers.  

“You sound preoccupied,” she gestures at my pillow, “I was just hoping to get a nap, I don’t mind if you’re working.”  

“Maybe I mind if I’m working.”  I raise an eyebrow at her and Stoick yells something downstairs, taking some hard earned ground back from the closed door in their eternal argument.  The chief’s muffled voice answers him and I hear Mom laugh and sigh.  Nevermind.  Plus, Fuse really does look tired, so I pick up the top letter in the stack.  “Go ahead and sleep, I’ll do my best to keep the door shut.”  

“It’s not your fault if you can’t.”  She lays down behind me, fidgeting to get comfortable, and I jump at her cold fingertips against my back, under my shirt.  She traces the edge of the scar on my hip and over the bumps of my lower spine and her breathing slows like she’s drifting off.  “I never answered your question the other day.”  

“Which question?”  I trace over a suspicious line of runes, an offer to deliver something to an island I’ve never heard of before but phrased in a way that makes it sound close.  

“You asked how I felt about the concept of us having a baby.”  

“Yeah?” I perk up, reminding myself that just because it took Fuse longer to get here than me doesn’t mean it’s going to be bad.  “I mean, you answered, you said you felt nauseous, which is fair--”

“I’m happy about it too.”  She yawns, cuddling closer, her knees curling around my hip.  “Also I’m nervous and really want to stop throwing up soon, but I’m kind of excited.”  

I grin, looking back over my shoulder at her.  Her eyes are shut and her hair is draped across most of my pillow, tangled and smudged in something blue and shiny.  It feels less selfish to be happy now that I know she is too and that excited voice in the back of my head reminds me of the prospect of having two of her around.  I can hope, at least, I can’t imagine that even Fuse would want another Eret.  There’s a surplus already.  

“I love you.”  

“Love you too,” she mumbles, snuggling closer and pressing her face into the pillow to block the light.  

Fuse’s quiet snores make it easier to focus on reading and I get through the short stack of letters that Aurelia thinks are important more quickly than I expect to.  It’s not great news.  It sounds like whatever trappers that are left on Elva’s island are looking for allies or markets to sell in, I’m not really sure which. That means I need to get back out there and see what might have turned up in a week without much management.  They’ve had a chance to get bold, maybe they’re willing to do or say something else stupid.  

A particularly loud snore puffs against my back and I look back at Fuse.  She looks pretty when she sleeps. Well, she always looks pretty, but it’s daintier when her face is relaxed and her usual aura of chaos and determination is turned down a notch.  

She got in the habit of sleeping by me when we were off Berk a lot, dealing with trappers.  She’s never said it directly, but I think it’s a carryover from the whole volcano incident, because in the months after that she couldn’t sleep unless I would be there when she woke up.  And she just told me she’s nervous about being pregnant and I’m about to leave to somewhere she can’t follow to deal with a dangerous situation that she doesn’t like.  

But I don’t know what else to do, I can’t just drop this situation on someone else, it has to be me.  It’s important. It’s my big piece of proof that I can solve things peacefully and maybe the chief will finally see that I’m ready and--

“Dad told me to open your door,” Stoick flings the door open and it smacks against the wall.  Fuse wakes up with a jolt, scrambling for my hand, and I don’t think before throwing the first thing in my reach at the grinning brat in the hallway.  

It happens to be my boot and it collides with his face with a satisfying thump.  

“Dad!  Eret threw his shoe at me!”  

“Get out.”  I stand up and grab the edge of my door with a white knuckled grip, “I mean it, move or this is going to slam into your face.”  

Stoick rolls his eyes and I flex my arm, making a show of just how fast I’m going to slam the door.  I’m not actually, because I know full well that the chief would do something dramatic and irritating like take it off its hinges entirely, but it’s still fun to see Stoick scramble backwards, eyes wide.  

“Fine, but…” He looks around for a way to retaliate, “I’m going to steal your shoe.  Finders keepers.”  He picks up my boot and waves it at me.  

“Whatever,” I shut the door and lean my forehead against it as he runs downstairs.  “Maybe I should come work at your house for a while.”  

“I wish.”  Fuse is adorable when she’s grumpy and half awake, frowning with her arms crossed.  “I’ve got some stuff to get done, I’m almost out of mining charges.”  She leans into my chest when I turn to face her, requesting a hug and pressing her sleep warm face into my shirt.  “I just couldn’t focus earlier, I should be good now.”  

“Are you sure?”  

“Yeah,” she backs away and reluctantly turns the doorknob, “I’ve got to get this done if you’re going to get any iron out of that other island anytime soon.”  

“You don’t have to help with that.”  

“I know I don’t,” she scowls and I can tell she’s frustrated mostly with the situation but probably at least partially with me, “but if I do, you’ll be done sooner and we’ll have one less thing to worry about.”  

“True.”  Maybe I’ll even be chief by then and I can just...decree something.  I don’t even know what.  

“Ok,” she steels herself, leaning up to kiss me briefly before opening the door the rest of the way.  “I’ll see you later.”  

“I’ll walk you out.”  I follow her down the stairs and to the front door, glaring at Stoick on the way as he feeds his dragon a fish out of my boot.  

As soon as Fuse is gone, the chief clears his throat, looking up from fixing his saddle and raising one graying eyebrow at me.  

“You know, if you didn’t live here anymore…”  

“Right, because that’s easier than telling Stoick to stop being obnoxious.”  

“I hadn’t thought to compare the two,” the chief nods, thinking to himself, “but I think you’re right.  Getting you married and out of the house is slightly easier than telling Stoick to be less obnoxious.”

I laugh at that and the chief looks equally tired and pleased with himself, glancing in Stoick’s direction like he’s surveying a threat.  I wasn’t that bad at thirteen, there’s no way, I don’t think Mom would have let me live.  

“I am the stubborn sibling,” Stoick shrugs, “do you want your boot back?”  He holds it out towards me, fish scales visible on the fur lining, and I wrinkle my nose.  

“I think I’m good.”  

[amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes]

Red

Author’s Note: This is my first submission for #Ash’s Round 3 Negan Challenge. The prompt is Red Riding Hood and is sorta of continuation of my first story, Sing to Me, although my OC doesn’t sing in this one. I picked the short title as it has multi-meaning: it relates to the prompt and it’s kinda what my OC feels at the end. 

Word Count: 3,102

Pairing: Negan x OC of Color (African American)

Warnings: Some language. Goofiness, some smooching, nothing heavy.  

Tags: @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @genevievedarcygranger, @negans-network

Trisha sat in Arat’s room and drummed her fingers on the table in front of her. Arat busied herself around a box sitting on the table that had been brought to her from the storage room by Simon. Her newest conquest was a teacher at the Sanctuary and the box was supposed to be full of things that can be used for the children. Arat had asked Trisha to help her go through the box but Trisha wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly what Arat wanted. “She wants intel.” Trisha thought before Arat could finish asking her to join her. It had been a week since Negan had asked Trisha to marry him and while she went back to work as a Savior like nothing had happened, Trisha didn’t tell her commanding officer or comrades what had been said. They all eyed her suspiciously when she returned and the questions were written all over their faces. Maybe they hoped she would voluntarily tell them what had happened but they were sorely mistaken. “They must have asked Arat to ask me.” Trisha assumed with a shake of her head.

“So, what did you guys talk about?” Arat asked, wasting no time to breach the subject. Trisha ignored the question and instead took the time to look inside the box. It was nearly full to the top with books, toys and God knows what else. Arat was about to repeat herself when a knock interrupted her. Thrown off guard, Arat opened the door with a scowl. Toni, a fellow member of their unit, decided she wanted to know what was in the box when she saw Simon hauling to Arat’s room. “Great they’re gonna double team me.” Trisha thought and was about to make her escape when she realized that Arat had dropped the subject as soon as Toni was in the room. Arat mumbled to herself as she and Toni began to look through the box and Trisha took a seat, grateful for the interruption.

 “Oh wow, this shit is even better than I remembered!” Arat exclaimed as she dug through the box. Trisha was thankful that the attention wasn’t on her anymore and watched the women unload the box. A stack of children’s books were now leaning against the side of the box, dusty but still in good condition. The bottom of the box had been layered with clothes and items relating to the corresponding books in the box. There was a little stuffed lamb that looked like it was once white but now faded to a dull gray color possibly from dust. A large red and gray hat that had been turned into itself for perseverance. A pair of green overalls with a button missing. A gold and green plastic crown that remarkably was undamaged. The list grew.

“This shit is too cute!” Toni searched through the box with Arat with glee, trying on as many props as she could. Arat placed the large hat on her head and laughed loudly. Trisha sat back in her chair and observed the women. Toni had her long, black hair tied back with a blue ribbon yet it didn’t stop the locks from falling over her tanned shoulders. Her dark blue shirt and jeans fit her nicely, complimenting her thin frame. Arat donned a black shirt and matching black capri pants that fit loosely on her yet amplified her figure. Short strands of her black and blonde hair fell over her face and gave her a youthful appearance. Trisha smiled as the women looked like giant children going through the box. Taking her hair down from the ponytail she normally kept it in, Trisha ran her fingers through her semi-curled hair and let her hair fall onto her shoulders. She wore the same black ensemble as Arat but being curvier than her commanding officer, it showcased her figure a bit too well. If it had been more people in the room, Trisha would had been more reserved but since it was only these two, Trisha didn’t see the harm in staying dressed in what she had on.

“Shut the fuck up!” Toni squealed and both Arat and Trisha looked at the woman curiously. From the bottom of the box, Toni pulled out a long red robe and held it up proudly. The robe was in good condition like most things in the box and managed to maintain its brilliant color. The robe was hooded, the hood looking large and spacious. From where she was sitting, Trisha could see that it was also sleeveless, the holes wide and gaping. It was beautiful to say the least. Arat whistled in appreciation and ran her hand over the material. Trisha stood and admired the robe herself and she wondered when the last time she saw something so fashionable. She reached out to touch it also and reveled in its softness. Toni pulled it away from the women’s hands and threw it across her shoulders. The robe swallowed her short frame and made her look like she was wearing a moo-moo. Arat frowned and shook her head ‘no’ and Trisha mimicked her movement. Huffing disappointingly, Toni shrugged the robe off and threw it on the table before resuming rummaging through the box. Trisha eyed the discarded robe and carefully picked it up. Thinking it would be heavy, she was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t the case at all and the robe itself felt light. Draping it around her shoulders, Trisha snuggled into the collar of the robe before placing her arms through the sleeve openings. Looking down at herself, Trisha couldn’t really see how she looked but knew the robe fit her well. Reaching behind her head, Trisha flopped the hood over her head and was right in assuming that the hood part was large. It came down to the tip of nose, the fabric tickling her. Pushing it up to her forehead, Trisha adjusted the hood on the top of her head so that it wouldn’t fall down her face again. The red of the robe accentuated the warm orange-red undertone of her dark brown skin and made her appear saintly.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Arat whispered in awe, turning to see Trisha in the robe. Toni had just put on the crown and turned to give Arat an inquiring look before turning to look at Trisha. Toni let out a small sound of surprise before crossing her arms and nodding. Both women were staring at Trisha in awe and not liking being the center of attention, she lowered her eyes bashfully. Toni stepped forward and moved around the woman to examine her. Standing behind her, Toni hummed in approval.

“It looks amazing on you Trish! But.” she moved closer “It does nothing to hide this ass!” she laughed as she smacked Trisha on the backside causing the woman to yelp in surprise and Arat to laugh aloud. Trisha rubbed her backside and flipped Toni off which only made her laugh harder. Trisha joined them in their laughter, placing her hands on her hips. The women were so distracted in their laughing that they didn’t notice Dwight entering the room. Toni was the first to notice him and greeted him with open arms. Dwight stared at her strangely, his eyes flickering to the shining gold crown on her head before turning to Trisha still in the robe.

“I’ve been knocking on your door for damn near five minutes, Arat. You girls playing dress up or something?” he asked tilting his chin at Arat, looking at the hat.

“Maybe. Wanna play with us?” Toni moved to pet the man on the head before placing the little lamb on top of his head. Dwight scoffed and side-eyed her, the lamb on his head looking absolutely ridiculous. Arat burst into a fit of giggles and quickly covered her mouth. Dwight exhaled sharply and rolled his eyes. If he didn’t like the toy on his head, he didn’t act like it as he allowed it remain. He crossed his arms gingerly as if trying to limit his movements so that the toy wouldn’t fall. Trisha smiled as she watched him, the lamb making him look childlike.

“I actually came in here for a reason but dammit, I can’t remember.” Dwight spoke aloud but to no one in particular. He closed his eyes in concentration but opened them after a few seconds and shrugged. “Nope, can’t remember.” he admitted. Toni shook her head at the man, playfully admonishing him.

“Well my little lamb, let’s try to retrace your steps. Where was the last place you saw Mary?” Toni asked as seriously as she could. Arat and Trisha exchanged glances before breaking into a new round of laughter. Dwight looked at Toni with exasperation and pursed his lips. Before Toni could comment any more, a loud bang at the door caused everyone to immediately quite.

“I send you to find Arat and you’re in here-” Negan boomed having slammed his fist against the metal door. His eyes were wide with anger but once he saw the top of Dwight’s head, he frowned in confusion. “What the fuck is that on your head?” Negan questioned before looking around the room. His gaze swept quickly over the room; the stack of books, the box with items poking out of it, the crown on Toni’s head, the hat on Arat and lastly Trisha in the robe. His gaze lingered on Trisha, drinking in the sight. Trisha had the mind to pull the hood back down over her face but elected to avert her gaze toward the box. The women fidgeted nervously as they waited for one of them to be brave enough to answer Negan. Sighing, Trisha decided that it should be her since he was still looking at her.

“We were trying on costumes for the books we’re going to read to the children.” Trisha lied, glancing over at Arat. If Negan knew that they were trying on stuff just for the hell of it and Arat just wanted to impress the teacher, he’d blow a gasket. Arat nodded before turning to Toni who just stood still in silent fear. Negan ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he regarded Trisha’s words. Seeming to be satisfied, Negan turned to Arat.

“Fucking should have known. The teacher chick is looking for you. I sent D to find you but I guess he fucking-“ he motioned to the lamb still perched on his head. “Got caught up in what-the-fuck-ever you girls are doing.” Negan finished. He turned his attention to the stack of books and began calling out their names. After about four books, he studied the fifth and laughed. Turning to Arat, he held the book up so she could see its title. “Cat in the Hat. Must be you.” Arat nodded again and Trisha swore she’d give herself whiplash. Negan turned to Trisha now and let his eyes scan down her body. Clicking his teeth in appreciation, he reached into the stack and held a book up to her.

“Little Red Riding Hood, huh?” he questioned before a smirk formed on his face. Trisha nodded, though not as hard as Arat, and added.

“I’m off to grandma’s house. Need to watch out for the big, bad wolf.” Trisha shrugged nonchalantly. Negan scoffed as he continued to smirk at her.

“Well today’s your lucky day, Red. I’m off to see grandma my-fucking-self. Care to join me?” He asked as his eyes shone with intent. Trisha figured this was coming since they hadn’t had the chance to talk all week, let alone see each other. This wasn’t necessarily the way she wanted them to meet back up but she rolled with it. Stepping forward past a still frozen Toni, Trisha held her hand out to him. “Only if you promise to take me straight to grandma. These woods are very dangerous.” Negan snorted as he took her hand and pulled her behind him. Stopping at the door, he turned to Dwight and looked at the lamb. “Take Arat to the teacher, lamb chop.”

Laughter rose from the room as Negan escorted Trisha into the hallway. Trisha assumed that from the direction that they were heading in, they were going to his room. Trisha lowered the hood on the robe to avoid the gazes of the workers and allowed the hood to graze the tip of her nose. She welcomed the coverage the hood gave her because it hid her from the world. Her mind raced as she realized that she really hadn’t given the Negan’s proposal much thought if any. She pondered on the thought back and forth before the sound of Negan talking to her interrupting her thoughts.

“I’m starting to think that you don’t like me very well, Trisha.” Negan grumbled as he stopped in front of a door and released her hand. Trisha looked up at him confused as she really wasn’t paying attention. She scanned her surroundings, a developed habit, and realized that they weren’t near Negan’s bedroom. The door was a different color, a faded tan, and it took her a second to realize it was his office. Trisha looked back at Negan suspiciously before pulling the hood back on her head so she could look up at him.    

“What? Why would you think that?” she asked tilting her head, the hood falling back to her nose. Scoffing, Negan opened the door and stood aside to allow Trisha to enter first. Walking into the room, Trisha lifted the hood off completely as Negan moved to sit on the desk. The room was simple, a large metal desk with one chair on each side, it wasn’t the setup that she was expecting. Negan studied her face as a frown formed as she studied the room.

“Why would you think that I don't like you?” she repeated her question but received no response. Turning to face him now, she placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head to stare at him. Still he gave no reply as he watched her, his hazel eyes boring into her. The silence grew between them and Trisha shifted from one foot to the other. Exhaling, she moved closer to him and stared with faux fascination into his eyes.

“My, what large eyes you have.” she whispered, moving even closer to him. Negan frowned and withdrew into himself as Trisha placed her hands on either side of his face.

“Trish, what the fuck-"

“And my,” she continued cutting him off while now standing between his legs. “What a large nose you have.” she finished as she pinched his nose. Negan recoiled from her touch and pushed himself off the desk. He moved to distance himself from Trisha but she was right on him.

“And my, what large,”

“Dammit Trisha you're creeping me the fuck out! Stop it!” Negan yelled a bit too loud and grabbed Trisha by her shoulders. A smile formed on Trisha’s lips and she looked up at Negan who was uncharacteristically flustered. Deciding not to push him any further, she spoke calm and even.

“See? I can ask weird too. Now, answer my question. Why wouldn't I like you?”

“Because I still don't have an answer from you.” Negan answered, his grip on Trisha shoulders loosening and he began to knead her arms in a silent apology. Trisha rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“So because I don't fall at your feet like a damsel in distress, you think I don’t like you?” Trisha scoffed. “This dame can save herself. Hell, I could probably save your ass too.” Trisha boldly asserted with a flick of her hair. Negan stared at her in disbelief before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I fucking should bend you over this desk for that.” he threatened and narrowed his eyes. Trisha’s courage faltered for second before she regained her composure.  

“Maybe you should.” she replied with a shrug of her shoulder. Negan’s eyebrows shot up and he made a sound of disbelief.

“You’ve gotten bold all of a sudden, Red and I must say,” he said closing the distance between them by snaking an arm around her waist. “I fucking like.” Trisha opened her mouth to respond but only a small squeak would form. Negan chuckled to himself before wrapping his other arm around her and leaning down to press his lips to hers. Trisha froze in place, unable to mentally process what was happening fast enough. Part of her wanted to push him away but another part wanted this physical touch. Leaning into the kiss, Trisha wrapped her arms around his neck. Negan took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and allow his hands to roam before they were interrupted by a loud knock. Startled, Trisha broke the kiss and tried to jump away from his grasp but Negan had her latched to him. Both turned towards the door to see who was responsible for disturbing them and they were met with a woman in a black dress with vivid red hair that she had draped over one shoulder. She was tapping one high heeled foot and looked at the pair with disgust. Negan groaned and Trisha recognized her as one of the wives but didn’t bother to remember her name.

“What is it Frankie?” Negan asked with a sigh. Trisha suddenly felt oddly irritated as the woman eyed her up and down before walking into office.

“Now I see why you haven’t been our quarters today. You found a new one.” Frankie finished the last sentence while turning her nose up at Trisha. Trisha sucked her teeth and went to step forward when Negan tightened his grip on her. Shaking her head, Trisha had a devilish, impulsive thought. Scoffing, she turned to face Negan and placed one hand on the back of his neck to pull him down to her and kissed him. Negan smirked into the kiss as Frankie rolled her eyes and began tapping her foot again. Breaking the kiss, Trisha started to the door with Negan looking after her with an amused look on his face. When she reached the door, Trisha turned to face Negan who was now being closed in on by Frankie.

“Oh Negan,” Trisha called out to him. “My answer is yes. I’ll marry you. See you later, new husband. I can make it to grandma’s from here.” She finished, flipping the hood over her head and leaving Negan with a wolfish grin and Frankie looking disappointed that now she had yet another wife to compete with.  

[cloudninedreamer]

The Demon in the Mansion

Based on this post about gay Beauty and the Beast

Just ignore it and it’ll go away. Unfortunately for Laurel, that advice worked better for bees and wasps than it did for stupid straight boys. She leaned against the wall, waiting for her ride as she prayed for this wasp to go away.

“And then I finished the dude off! You should’ve seen it, I am a master!”

“Mmhm. Veeeery interesting, Chad.” Laurel nodded absentmindedly and returned to the book in her hand. But no matter how hard she tried she just could not get immersed in the fantasy world. The pest was too distracting.

Some had told Laurel they couldn’t believe she kept brushing Chad off, and she could kind of see it. His hair was golden like the sun, his eyes a similar color He had a strong jawline and golden-tanned skin, fairly dark for a boy who spent most hours indoors playing games, but still much, much lighter than Laurel’s dark brown tone.

There were a few problems with the possible match up though. Number one, he was rude and a know-it-all and didn’t understand the word “no.” Number two, he was a man. Not that he could figure out that she wasn’t into men. Even now, as Laurel continued to try and block him out, he was prattling on about his latest… Magic tournament? Honestly, he claimed to be the top in so many games Laurel couldn’t keep track.

And then help arrived in the form of an old rusty pickup truck. “Laurel!” Its driver called as they stepped out. “Time to go! C’mon!”

“Wait, Laurel,” Chad said, grabbing her arm. “I was just thinking, maybe we could go—”

And Laurel’s savior grabbed her other arm. “Sorry, Romeo, but her sister’s waiting. Gotta go, bye!” And they yanked Laurel their way, breaking Chad’s (practically nonexistent) grip and hurried Laurel to the truck.

“Welp,” the driver said as they climbed in, “I just saved your life.”

“I was fine.”

“Yeah, but seriously. You should just tell him to fuck off. It’s just two easy words. Or two other easy words: ‘I’m. Gay.’”

Laurel laughed, but said, “He wouldn’t believe me if I told him.” She tucked a strand of long black hair behind her ear. “Thanks for the rescue, Soph.”

“Any time. Now let’s go. Belle will be at your house soon.”

Sophia was an interesting friend. Pale skin, tall and wiry, they were loud where Laurel was quiet. For starters, Sophia’s hair was bright teal, always tied back in a ponytail. They had a multitude of piercings including, but not limited to, their ears, lip, nose, and navel, and their makeup was always done with winged eyeliner and blue lipstick. Not to mention the ripped jeans and too-small shirt that showed said navel piercing, and the tattoo on their back, though Laurel had never had a really good look at it before.

“And thanks for picking me up.”

“Least I could do. You don’t drive, Belle’s at work for another thirty minutes, and she gives me free food. Win-win-win.”

“Is food all you think about?”

“Of course not.” Sophia gasped dramatically as if wounded. “But I’m a hungry college student. You’re a college student too. Don’t you understand me?”

“I’m a well-fed college student,” Laurel corrected. “If you budgeted better, you would be too.”

“Blah, blah. I don’t have monthly funding from my parents and a working big sister like you.”

The two drove on, finally reaching Laurel’s home. It was small, two bedroom, one bathroom, but it felt like family. As Laurel dropped her bag in the living room, she noticed a casserole on the kitchen counter with a note.

“350 for 20 minutes. See you soon!”

Laurel fired up the oven. As she returned to the living room, Sophia had already made a home on the old couch and was watching after-school cartoons.

Laurel shook her head as she sat next to her friend. “Aren’t we a little old for this stuff?”

Sophia whipped their head around to stare at Laurel, aghast. “Never!” Then, as if to prove a point, they turned the volume up a few clicks. Laurel sighed but didn’t protest.

The front door opened as Laurel was pulling out the casserole, and in walked her older sister, Belle. Belle looked exhausted, with a few bags under her dark eyes, but a smile was on her face. She was still in her simple white and gray office clothes, and her black hair was done in cornrows tied into a low bun.

“Hey, Belle!” Sophia greeted, spread along the couch. “How was your day?”

“It was fine, thank you,” Belle replied. “It’s good to see you again, Sophia.” She looked toward the kitchen. “Hello, Laurel.”

“Hey, sis.”

“Don’t serve it yet. I just gotta change and I’ll be right back out.”

A few minutes later, Laurel had gotten out plates and silverware and a coke for Sophia and a water for Belle and was in the middle of grabbing some iced tea when Belle reappeared, now in a simple purple sundress.

“Alright!” She said, beaming. “Dinner!”

Dinner was a simple affair. It was just each person grabbing their drink and a plate of food and sitting on either the couch or the floor (Sophia had given their spot on the couch up for Belle’s sake) and they watched more cartoons.

Sophia left shortly after dinner, leaving the two sisters to talk.

“So tomorrow’s Saturday. Any plans?” Belle probed.

“Nope.”

“Any girls?”

“Nope.”

“Well what about boys?”

Laurel just shot her sister a look as Belle cracked up.

“Sorry. I just keep hearing about this one guy… Chad… what is his last name?”

“I don’t know. ‘Wiltsfordshire’ or something like that.”

Belle snorted again.

“He’s an asshole anyway,” Laurel continued. “Wouldn’t date him if I were straight.”

“I know the type. You should just tell him to fuck off.”

“Sis.”

“What? It works. I’ve had to tell boys to fuck off before.”

Laurel sighed before changing the subject. “What about you, sis? Anything?”

“Work. Same as always. Probably will have to work late. But you’ll have a casserole in the fridge and you can invite Sophia over if you want as long as they don’t cause our neighbors to complain.”

“When should I expect you then?”

“No later than eight.”

It was nine o’clock the next evening when Laurel started to really worry.  She’d started pacing at eight-thirty, but traffic sucked a lot. Maybe she was stuck there. But at nine, it was nearly panic mode.

And that’s why five minutes later she called Sophia.

“What’s up?” Sophia asked.

“…My sister hasn’t come home.”

“Didn’t she say she’d be at work late?”

“She told me she’d be home an hour ago, and if something had come up, she’d have called me.” Laurel took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. “Look, I just need a ride.”

“What for?”

“I tracked her cell phone.”

“Uh, what?”

“We have permission to in emergencies. This is an emergency.”

“So you want me to drive you to wherever Belle’s phone is.”

“It’s just outside of town,” Laurel said. “Please, Sophia.”

Silence for a moment, then, “Alright. I’ll be there in five.”

They found Belle’s car next to an old mansion.

Everyone knew of the place. Years ago, it had been home to a rich family, but now they were dead and the mansion was left to rot. And now, it was said, the place was haunted by a monster and ghosts. It was all dark and windows were broken and various statues that had looked elegant in the past now looked sinister.

Laurel took a quick once-over of the car before she found why her sister had stopped. “Flat tire,” she told Sophia. “Shredded, really. She’s probably nearby.”

Sophia nodded. “I’ll check surrounding houses. You look in the mansion.”

“Why the mansion?”

“Well the nearest house is a good minute while driving away, and it’s chilly. It’s probably warmer in there.”

That was fair logic. So the two split up, Sophia returning to their truck and Laurel slowly entering the mansion.

“Hello?” She called. “Belle?”

Silence, then almost what sounded like a voice. Belle? “Sis? Are you here? You never answered my texts, I was getting worried!”

The voice moved, so Laurel hurried toward it, following the sound through a few hallways before coming to… a parlor?

“Belle?” She called, and a figure moved inside.

“Laurel!”

“Sis!” Laurel threw open the door, rushing into the room and her sister’s arms. “Belle, I was worried.”

“I know, but you have to get out of here!”

“What do you mean? We’re both going. I saw your car, but Sophia can—”

“No, Laurel. Listen. The stories were true and now you have to go.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“Laurel, listen—”

The door slammed shut. Belle’s breath hitched into a sob, and Laurel slowly turned to see a figure right in front of the door.

“Who are you?” A voice hissed, gravelly and breathy.

“I—my sister. I came for my sister.”

“She can’t leave,” the figure growled. “She’s my prisoner.”

“Wh-what? But…” Laurel swallowed. “Please, not Belle. She doesn’t deserve this!”

“It’s too late. There’s nothing you can do.”

“I…” A thought crossed Laurel’s mind.

Belle noticed. “Laurel!”

“Take me,” Laurel offered.

“No!” Belle exclaimed. “Leave her be! I—”

The figure seemed startled. “You would take her place?”

“Please. Just let her go,” Laurel begged.

“Very well. But you can never leave.”

Belle was protesting, but Laurel just said, “Let me see you first.” And the figure stepped closer, into the light.

White. That’s all Laurel could see. This creature, this demon, its skin was paler than the moon in a sickly, paranormal way. Spider webs of cracks were all over its skin, most prominently along its shoulders and right cheek. Dark spots covered its body wherever cracks didn’t. Wings spread out from its shoulders, dark as night and leathery like bat wings. It had fangs that were long enough to hang out from its mouth, also black, and had a deep-set brow. It had hair in patches along its scalp, matted and dark in color. The only thing vaguely normal were its eyes, which were a more human green-gray in color, but its pupils were slit like a cat’s.

Laurel gasped, afraid, but spoke. “It’s a deal.”

Belle was screaming. “Laurel! No! You can’t do this! Spare her! Spare her!”

“You will leave,” the demon growled, “or you will face an even worse fate than hers.” The demon dragged Belle from the room and, Laurel figured, the entire mansion. Alone, in a quiet, dilapidated mansion, Laurel fell to her knees and sobbed.

Laurel didn’t know how much time passed before there was a quiet tap at the door. Startled, she looked up as it opened and in walked four people. People. Laurel almost started crying again knowing she wasn’t alone.

There were two men, one tall and muscled, his skin a warm russet brown, the other shorter, thinner, with gingery curls, an older woman with short white hair and a soft face and a young woman maybe Laurel’s age with blond hair braided to the side and a wary look.

The old woman knelt beside Laurel. “Oh, dear. Are you alright?”

“My… my sister… that thing… it…”

“I know, we saw. We heard. That was very brave.” The woman turned to the man with red hair. “Timothy, get her a cup of tea.” The man, Timothy, nodded and hurried out the door.

“Let us introduce ourselves,” the young woman said. “My name is Rose, Timothy just left, she’s Marie, and this is Carlos.”

Carlos nodded. “We’ll apologize on our Lady’s behalf, but I know it won’t do much.”

“Lady?” Laurel asked. “That thing is a Lady?”

“Doesn’t act like it now,” Rose said.

Timothy returned with an old china teacup, handing it to Marie.

“Here,” Marie said softly, “drink this. It’ll help you feel better.”

Laurel took a sip, and the warm liquid did soothe the ache in her throat, and she felt herself calm a little. “Thank you,” She said. “…Are you trapped here too?”

“Of a sort,” Timothy answered. “We’re the servants of this mansion.”

“Servants? But if your master’s a demon, then—”

“Oh, we’re basically ghosts,” Rose said. “Watch this.” And she completely vanished from sight. Laurel almost dropped her teacup, taking another sip to calm herself as Rose reappeared.

Marie tsked. “Rose, we want our guest to feel welcome, not afraid.”

“I figured we’d get that out of the way.”

Marie turned back to Laurel. “What is your name, dear?”

“Laurel.”

“Well, Laurel, it’s almost time for dinner,” Timothy said. “Carlos, have you started?”

“Sí, cariño.”

Laurel recognized the language as Spanish and understood the yes, but not the second word, nor why Timothy was suddenly blushing. Before she could mull on it further, Carlos was gone. Laurel had a feeling she’d have to get used to the servants appearing and disappearing at will.

Marie looked to Rose. “Rose, could you go get our Lady for supper?” Rose nodded and disappeared as well.

“She’s going to eat with me?”

“She should,” Marie said. “She should at least try to be civil to you.” A thought crossed her mind. “Is that not alright?”

Laurel took a breath. She was going to be stuck here. She would not cower before that thing. Better face her fears sooner rather than later. “No, it’s fine.”

“If you’re sure.” Marie bowed, and Laurel gave a soft protest. Laurel was just a commoner too. But Marie waved her off. “Follow me to the dining room.”

When they arrived, Timothy and Rose were already there. Marie approached them. “Is she—?” Rose just shook her head.

“It looks like you’ll be eating dinner alone,” Timothy told Laurel.

That was fine enough for Laurel. Put off facing her fears. Just a few minutes later, as Laurel was seated, Carlos came out of the kitchen with the food. It was basically a feast. Steak, turkey, and ham cooked to perfection, delicious mashed potatoes, fresh baked bread, carrots and corn and fruits of all kinds. Laurel ate as much as she could and dessert, a simple but extraordinary chocolate cake.

“It was amazing,” Laurel said to Carlos. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. It’s been ages since I’ve been able to cook.”

“Well, you’re welcome, then.” Laurel wiped her face with her napkin, and a thought crossed her mind.

“Are you going to sing?” She asked Carlos.

Carlos seemed startled by the question. “Where did you get the idea for that?”

Laurel shrugged. “Just a story I read once.”

“Well, I can.”

But before he could open his mouth, Timothy was covering it with his hand. “Please don’t encourage him. He cannot sing.”

“Tim! That’s not fair. I can!” Carlos protested. “You’re embarrassing me in front of our guest.”

“Okay, fine,” Timothy relented. “He can sing, but he really shouldn’t.”

Timothy and Carlos then began to bicker a bit, English and Spanish flowing between the two, sounding liked a mix of terms of affection and straight up insults. Marie rolled her eyes at the two and asked Laurel, “Did you enjoy your meal, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“That’s good. How about we get you to your bedroom then, hm?” She turned to the other servants. “Timothy, is the room ready?”

“S—I mean, yes Marie,” Timothy answered and then returned to his conversation with Carlos without a beat, now completely in Spanish.

“Since they’re so busy, I’ll show you the way. Will you need anything else? Tea? Milk?”

“No, no,” Laurel replied. “I’m just… really tired. Some rest will help.”

“Well, here’s your room. I’ll wake you for breakfast.”

“Thank you, Marie.”

Marie bowed. “Sleep well.” And she was gone before Laurel could protest. She found the room was in fact ready, with a freshly-made bed and clothes in the closet that more or less fit. Laurel changed and crawled into bed, falling asleep as her head hit the pillow.

“Honestly, you’re being a child,” Rose said, glaring right at the demon.

“What does it matter?” The demon snapped. “It’s not like being kind would make a difference. She didn’t ask to be here.”

“Kindness makes all the difference. The others and I have already won her over by being kind and talking to her and trying to make her feel welcome.”

The demon only growled.

“Don’t you want to break the curse?”

“Of course.”

“Well you’re running out of time. It’s been forty-nine years already.”

“So?”

“So if you want to break it, you need to foster somebody’s love, and love takes time and it might take a year and guess what, the only one here is Laurel.”

“Laurel?” The demon was actually confused.

“The girl’s name. Which you might’ve known if you’d come to dinner.” Rose sighed, moving her hair out of her face. “Listen. This is your last chance. If you don’t want to break it, then go ahead and let me and the others know so we don’t get our hopes up. If you do, you better clean up your act, control that temper, and show the girl some civility.”

The demon recoiled as if physically struck, and Rose relaxed. “Alright. I’ll leave you then. Good night, Lady.” And Rose disappeared.

“This might sound weird, but do you have a library?” Laurel asked Marie.

“Of course we do. Shall I take you?”

Laurel nodded, and followed the spirit through the halls. The paint was old and chipped, the carpets shaggy and rough, splintery wood… Laurel wished to know what it once looked like, when the mansion was new and beautiful. More startling were claw marks along ceilings, as if something—someone—had crawled along them. Laurel had a good idea who.

Finally, they arrived at the library, a large room filled ceiling-to-floor with books. Laurel couldn’t hide the awe and splendor from her face.

Marie smiled at the girl’s reaction. “If you need any help, or get lost, just yell for us. Someone will show up and help you.” She turned to look at a corner, above the shelf. “Have a good time. Alone.” And she was gone with a bow.

Laurel had run to a shelf already, scanning along the books. Then, a few rows above her arm’s length, she saw Pride and Prejudice. She looked around for a ladder or stepstool or something.

When she turned back toward the shelf, the book was being held at her eye level. “Here.”

Laurel screamed, falling on her butt, and she realized it was the demon. It—she—was in the air, using her wings to hover, and had a startled look on her face. Laurel picked herself up and managed a dignified expression, taking the book. “Thank you,” she said, and turned and walked away.

“W-Wait.” The demon flew over Laurel’s head to reposition in front of her. “I-I wanted to talk.”

“I don’t.” Laurel turned away again, going to sit in one of the chairs in the library.

The demon watched her for a moment, but just said, “Very well.” When Laurel looked back, the demon was gone.

It happened the next day too. This time, Laurel had picked one in her arm’s reach, The Count of Monte Cristo, but the demon reappeared.

“Um, what are you reading?”

Laurel didn’t speak, only lifting her book so the demon could see the cover. The demon nodded quietly. “I… I wanted to apologize about… a few days ago. I was rather monstrous and cruel and…” Laurel had returned to her book. “Right. You probably didn’t hear me. I’ll leave you be.”

The demon was leaving, but picked up a soft, “I heard.”

The demon came to see her once every day, while Laurel read. Every day she asked what Laurel was reading. Of Mice and Men. The Important of Being Ernest. Books like that. Some, Laurel knew were happy or sad. Some she’d never read before. Ernest was such one, and Laurel had a new story to add to her favorites.

Fifty-one books she read. The fifty-first was The Great Gatsby. She’d had to read it back in high school, and was one of the few she’d actually enjoyed from that year.

The demon approached her, as she did every day. “Hello. It’s… a lovely day. Not too hot either. I…” Laurel was still silent. “Sorry. I’ll leave you be.”

“You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“If you want to speak to me, you may,” Laurel said.

The demon seemed taken aback, but sat in a nearby chair, telling her how the leaves were green and the sun was bright and the view was beautiful from the mansion.

“I guess I’ll have to go outside later today,” Laurel said.

“May I… accompany you?”

Laurel swallowed. The demon had huge fangs, terrifying claws. Laurel could be killed in an instant by the demon. “I’d rather be alone for that.”

There was no anger, just a little sadness. “Very well,” the demon said.

“But you can stay for now,” Laurel offered.

The demon did. They had conversations most days after that. And the outside was a beautiful view.

Sixty-three books later, she was reading The Little Prince as the demon hesitantly took a seat near her, a book in her own hand. Laurel glanced up to see the demon was reading Pride and Prejudice.

The demon started to become a welcome presence, much to Laurel’s shock. They would read their books, sitting next to each other. The demon would every so often gasp or laugh and tell Laurel the quote or scene that had gotten a reaction.

Sixty-five books later, the demon was reading The Count of Monte Cristo, but this time growling softly at the book as if it had offended her firstborn.

“Is something the matter?” Laurel asked.

The growling stopped and the demon hunched over slightly, embarrassed. “It’s nothing. Just… the words are so small in this book.”

Laurel nodded. “Sometimes they are.” Laurel placed a bookmark in her book, setting it aside. “If it would help, maybe I could read it to you?”

“Uh…” The demon took a moment before nodding, handing over the book.

“Where should I start?”

The demon again looked away. “The beginning?”

There was no mockery, no insults. Laurel just calmly opened the book, and began reading aloud.

After that, somedays she’d read books to the demon. Other days they’d just read in silence together. Laurel was honestly startled at how normal this felt, but… she felt like the demon was her friend.

During one of these readings, Laurel told the demon she forgave her.

Sixteen books later, it was Romeo and Juliet, when Laurel had a thought. She stopped reading aloud, in the middle of a soliloquy, and the demon looked up at her.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing bad. I just never realized. Do you have a name?”

“…Yes.”

“What is it?”

The demon was silent, afraid. Afraid of judgement. That honestly was mostly likely not going to exist. Finally, she relaxed enough to speak. “Caroline.”

“Caroline.” Laurel smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Laurel.”

Caroline grinned back. “I know,” she said, clearly appreciating the humor.

So, Laurel went back to reading aloud.

A few hours later, they’d finished reading, and lunch was served. Caroline had started eating with Laurel after book seventy-three, and after book one hundred twenty-seven, meals were commonly filled with laughter and conversation, to the servants’ delight.

After lunch, Caroline left to go to her quarters and the servants started to clean up.

“Is there something I can help you with, Laurel?” Timothy asked.

“Yes, actually. I had a question.”

“Yes?”

“Why does Caroline have a human name? I thought she was a demon and most have… terrifying names.”

The servants had gone quiet, before Marie sighed. “I’ll tell you.” She walked over to Laurel. “Lady Caroline wasn’t always a demon. She used to be human. We all were.”

Laurel nodded. “I… sort of had a feeling,” she said. “But how did it happen?”

“Long story short?” Rose said. “Magic.”

“Yes,” Carlos agreed. “But it’s a bit more complicated than that.

“I’ll tell the story,” Marie told them. “Lady Caroline was born a human, to wealthy parents. A Lord and Lady,” she began. “But they died when she was young. In their will, they said that the four of us would take care of her through her childhood. As such, she was…” Marie paused as if to think the right word.

“Spoiled. Greedy. Selfish,” Carlos supplied.

“Carlos!” Marie scolded.

Carlos shrugged. “It’s true.” He set down the plates and turned to Laurel. “So it was a dark night. Cold, rainy. We’d just finished supper. So we were all cleaning up when the doorbell rang. Everyone had their hands full. Marie, and I were cleaning up, and Rose and Timothy were preparing the fireplace, so we asked Caroline to answer the door for us. Almost threw a tantrum over that request.”

“She did, though, after some persuading,” Marie took over. “She answered the door. And there was a woman begging for shelter. She had nothing to give and was a bit… unsightly. So Caroline refused.

“And… well, this is according to Caroline, so it’s hard to say how accurate, but the woman transformed into an enchantress with hair like snow and a wine-red dress with roses designed upon it.”

“As the enchantress prepared her spell, Caroline begged forgiveness, but it was too late. And she laid a curse upon Caroline. She became a monster and the rest of us lost our physical forms. Cursed to stay the same, never changing even as the world does, until it’s broken.”

“But how do you break it?” Laurel asked. “I want to help.”

Marie and Carlos exchanged looks. “It’s not our place to say. Frankly we’re pushing it telling you the story, but I think Caroline will understand that.”

Laurel nodded, sighing. “But,” Carlos said, “you could ask Caroline herself. We can’t promise she’ll tell you, but maybe she will?”

“That does sound like a good idea.” Laurel stood up, smiling at the spirits. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” As Laurel turned away, the two faded from sight and a quick glance allowed Laurel to see the dishes still moving, being washed, by an invisible presence.

She reached Caroline’s room relatively quickly, and knocked on the door. “Caroline?” She asked. “Can I come in?”

It only took a moment for the door to open, and Rose stood there. “Caroline says yes. What is it?”

“I was hoping to speak to Caroline,” Laurel said as she entered, then quickly added, “Privately.”

“Of course.” Rose bowed to Laurel before she could protest then disappeared as the door swung shut behind Laurel.

“What is it?” Caroline’s voice rang out. Laurel followed the sound to find Caroline sitting on her bed. “Laurel?”

“Y-yes. I mean, hi.” Laurel took a breath. “I just wanted to talk.”

“What about?” Caroline tilted her head quizzically. She patted the bed beside her so Laurel sat down.

“I heard the story,” Laurel started. “About your… curse.”

There was silence save for a few deep breaths from Caroline, though Laurel didn’t know if she was calming herself from anger or panic.

“And?” Caroline finally asked.

“Well, they said it could be broken. But they didn’t tell me how. They said it wasn’t their place.”

Caroline sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean? But I want to help!”

“The curse can be broken, yes. But it’s basically impossible.” Caroline sounded so defeated, broken.

“Then I’ll make it possible,” Laurel vowed.

Caroline made a sound, maybe a breath of laughter? She spoke again, “Maybe. If you can break the curse, you’ll know when it happens I guess.”

Laurel sighed, knowing protesting wouldn’t get her anywhere. “Can I ask another question?”

“Hm?”

Laurel bit her lip, unsure of how to phrase it without angering the demon in front of her. She’s not a demon, she reminded herself. She was cursed. Finally, she spoke, “why are you so specific about the… woman’s… appearance?”

“Because it’s not,” Caroline replied. “That’s all I can remember. Hair white as the snow and a red dress with rose designs. But I want to remember more. I hate her! She ruined my life! Made me… this, and I can’t even remember her face!” There was a thud and Laurel flinched. Caroline looked to her hand to see she had dug her claws into the bedpost and quickly retracted them. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not my bed,” Laurel replied. “It must hurt that someone did all that to you.”

Caroline nodded. “It does.” She sighed. “I want to be me again. With all my heart. But I know it isn’t going to happen.”

She looked so broken. Laurel’s heart ached at the sight and she gently placed a hand on Caroline’s shoulder. That was enough for Caroline to break, and cry. She cried and Laurel just held the demon—the cursed human—through the night.

It was fifty-four books later that Caroline realized she loved Laurel.

“Timothy? Carlos?”

“Yes, Caroline?” Timothy responded.

“I need to do something special.”

“What is it?” Carlos asked.

“I don’t know. But it’s for Laurel. I’m… I’m going to tell her I love her.” She paused as her servants gasped. “So, it must be special. Do you have any ideas?”

“Well you could go for the traditional,” Carlos offered. “Flowers, chocolates, promises you don’t intend to keep…” The last was accompanied by a pointed look at Timothy.

Timothy gave Carlos a hard nudge, interrupting. “You know her best, Caroline. What would she want?”

Caroline thought. She thought about their time together, the books shared. The way Laurel would read them aloud and then stop and sigh at… That was it!

“I’ve got it.” Caroline told the servants her idea. At their enthusiastic nod, she went through the mansion and told Marie and Rose so things could be prepared. Then she went to find Laurel.

She found Laurel in a tree. Caroline almost missed her at first. Then she was wondering why the hell Laurel was in a tree.

“It’s a good reading spot,” Laurel answered, still nestled against a branch. “Plus, the blossoms smell nice.”

“Well, I… um… I wanted to talk to you.”

“Go ahead.” Caroline couldn’t see her face, but she knew Laurel was smiling, listening, even with her nose stuck in a book.

“…Face to face?”

Laurel stretched. “Catch my book,” she said, and dropped it into Caroline’s awaiting hands. Laurel then grabbed hold of the branch she’d been resting on moving to hang off it before dropping to the ground. She turned to Caroline. “Yeah?”

Caroline felt her nerves again. So much could go wrong. Sure, she was willing to call the two of them friends, but that didn’t necessarily mean… She took a breath, calming herself.

“I was wondering if you would join me for dinner tonight,” she finally said.

“Of course,” Laurel said. “We eat dinner together every night.”

That wasn’t what she meant. “No, I mean…” Caroline thought the words through. “A special dinner. The two of us all… dressed up like those dances you’ve read about.”

“Oh. Well, I’d love to,” Laurel said, her face turning gloomy, “but I don’t have a fancy dress.”

“That’s… not a problem. I have one I think should fit… and if not then Marie could fix it up quickly… if you want.”

Laurel was silent a moment and Caroline could breathe. She was scared. What if Laurel said no? What if she hated Caroline? What if—?

“Okay,” Laurel finally said. “That sounds wonderful.”

Caroline couldn’t hide her smile. “Great. Great!”

“You pulled me out of a tree just to ask you for dinner?”

“I wanted to ask to your face.”

“You could’ve come up. You can fly.”

“Not that close to branches. And I can’t… I wasn’t allowed to climb trees.”

Laurel took her book from Caroline’s hands. “Do you want me to show you?”

Marie found them both nestled in that tree across from each other, Caroline reading aloud to Laurel. She reminded them that dinner would be soon and they should start getting ready before returning inside to continue preparations.

When it was time for Laurel to start getting ready, she washed, and Marie came to the room to do her hair, only tying back a lock of hair in the back. And Rose arrived with the dress. She bowed to Laurel again, (Laurel was convinced that Rose was just doing it to spite her now.) and the two servants left the room for Laurel to get dressed.

The dress Caroline had picked for her was bright yellow and sleeveless, with clear gems all along the bodice that Laurel didn’t doubt were real. As she slipped it on, the skirt flowed loosely around her legs and was floor-length. It was beautiful. It was perfect. As soon as she put it on, Laurel felt like a princess, taking a little bit to twirl for her mirror.

Finally she called in Marie to help with finishing touches. Luckily only a little stitching of a hole or two was needed, and then Laurel could accessorize and meet Caroline for dinner. Laurel only put on a silver bracelet for jewelry. Slipping her feet into flats, she took a breath and wished herself luck.

That was the moment Rose appeared, knocking on the wall gently. “If you’re ready,” she said with yet another bow, “Caroline is waiting.”

Laurel nodded, standing. “Do I look okay?” She asked.

Rose smiled. “You look amazing. Wait until she sees you.” Laurel nodded and followed Rose out of the room.

Caroline was pacing. She was ready, but nervous beyond belief. What if Laurel didn’t come? What if she hated the outfit? What if…?

Caroline was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps. She looked up to see Rose, who bowed and said, “Lady Caroline, Miss Laurel.” And she was gone, leaving Caroline to look at Laurel and suddenly feel inferior in her looks.

Caroline’s dress was a dark blue, contrasting greatly with her white skin. Her dress had short sleeves in order to hide the rather large cracks along her shoulders. Unlike Laurel’s Caroline’s dress only fell a little past her knees, keeping the skirt above her hooves so she didn’t trip. A silver necklace hung around her neck, and she was twisting her hands nervously, not looking, at her, waiting for Laurel to speak.

“You look…” monstrous, disgusting, terrifying… “Lovely.” Caroline hadn’t been expecting that. Her head jerked up to see Laurel beaming at her. And she… oh, Laurel, she was absolutely stunning. Caroline quickly told her so before the thought left her. Laurel laughed softly, bringing her hand to her mouth as if to quiet it, and Caroline plunged deeper.

The nervousness was dissipating. Caroline approached Laurel. “Dinner?” she asked, offering Laurel her arm.

Laurel took it. “Only if we dance after.”

“D-Dance?” Caroline asked. “I don’t know if I can dance. I haven’t since—”

“Don’t worry,” Laurel said, “I’ll show you.”

But first, dinner. Carlos really had outdone himself, Caroline could tell from the smell. Laurel sat across from Caroline and the two made some simple small talk. Both of them gave their compliments to Carlos just as Marie showed up.

“Lady Caroline, Laurel,” she said with a bow. “I tuned the grand piano in the ballroom if you were wishing to dance?”

At the word, Laurel’s face lit up with Caroline sunk lower in her chair. Laurel just laughed lightly, standing up and moving to pull Caroline to her feet—hooves.

“I-I don’t think I can dance,” Caroline protested.

“Please? I won’t judge,” Laurel said.

Oh no. Caroline couldn’t say no to that face. She finally nodded and with a slight squeal, Laurel led Caroline to the ballroom, brimming with excitement.

As they arrived, Marie sat at the piano. “I’ll start with a simple waltz,” she said.

Laurel took Caroline’s hand, resting it on her shoulder. “I’ll lead first.” Caroline almost jumped as Laurel placed her hand on Caroline’s waist and took Caroline’s free hand in the other. “It’s okay. Just follow me.”

The music started, sweet melodies filling the air and Laurel took a step. Laurel was flowing to the beat so smoothly, so perfectly, and Caroline was stumbling along like an animal. Laurel didn’t seem to mind, only murmuring, “relax.”

The song ended and Caroline almost lost her balance as Laurel stopped.

“I’m sorry. I told you, I’m no good.”

“No, you’re doing great. Just don’t think about it so hard.” Laurel motioned to Marie and music started again. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

So Caroline did. Her steps smoothed, she was flowing, and the two floated around the ballroom as if they were flying. Laurel twirled Caroline, then kept their floating. Caroline wasn’t thinking. She was feeling. The music with its soft beats, the light with its warm glow, her own heart, filled to the brim with love.

As the song ended, Laurel asked, “Would you like to lead?” And Caroline did, twirling Laurel close to her body, letting the two spin and float and fly around the room until both were beaming like the sun. As the last song ended, Caroline gazed into Laurel’s dark eyes, sparkling like stars.

“Laurel? Would you like to go to the balcony?” Caroline asked. Laurel nodded, and Caroline could feel the smiles of her servants behind the two.

Outside, the moon was shining brightly and stars danced to their own heavenly melody. Now was Caroline’s chance. She had to say it, she just had to. “Laurel? Are you happy here with me?”

Laurel nodded, but there was sadness in her eyes. “What is it?” Caroline asked.

“My sister. I haven’t seen Belle in so long, she must be so worried. I… I miss her.”

Laurel was so hurt. It reminded Caroline of her hurt, longing to be human again, longing to be loved. But Laurel could never love a demon, and her hurt could be remedied.

“You should go to her,” Caroline said.

“What?”

“Go to her. You’re free.”

“I… thank you.”

“I just hope… you remember me.” Caroline swallowed a sob as Laurel hugged her tight.

“I’ll never forget you. I’ll… I’ll come back. I promise.” That was the last touch before Laurel hurried away, to her home of humans and people she loved who were human.

When her servants demanded why later, all Caroline could say was, “Because I love her.”

Laurel was in a bit of an awkward position. She had changed into the clothes she arrived in and prepared to leave when it hit her. She had no way of going home herself. She knew based on the time that Belle was probably asleep. Left her with only one option.

Laurel turned on her phone for the first time since she arrived at the mansion and dialed a familiar number.

“Sophia? I know this is a weird time. Could you pick me up?”

Laurel had been right about Belle being asleep, but she was very awake when Sophia’s noisy truck pulled up, and even more so when Laurel hopped out.

Belle ran up to her sister. “Laurel? Is that really you?”

“Yes, it’s me sis.”

That was enough and Belle pulled Laurel into a warm embrace. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I know.” Laurel tightened the hug and the two stayed that way until Sophia cleared their throat.

“I know this is a great sister reunion and all but maybe we should get inside.”

The three did so, Belle sitting Laurel at the couch. “How did you escape? That… thing…”

“She let me go,” Laurel replied.

“She?”

“The… demon… it’s hard to explain, but… she changed. And she let me come back to you.”

“Well, whatever happened,” Belle said, “I’m just glad you’re back, and okay.”

“Yeah… for now, at least. I…”

“Wait, Laurel,” Sophia interjected, “you mean you wanna go back there?”

“The reason Caroline—that’s her name—is like that is because she’s cursed. And not just her. The servants there are cursed too. And I promised I would help break the curse.”

“Oh no,” Sophia said to Belle, “she’s determined.”

“We can talk about that later. For now, you are staying here, with me, and I don’t have to worry about losing you.”

Belle wrapped her arms around Laurel, pulling her close. Laurel had missed this feeling. She didn’t know she had been, but now, in her sister’s arms, Laurel was just at peace. Sophia slipped out before long, and the two sisters fell asleep like that, snuggled close, each knowing that her sister was safe and sound.

That lasted about a day. Sophia called the next evening. “Laurel?”

“Soph?”

“So, word is out that you got back.”

“Really. How did that happen,” Laurel said sarcastically.

“It wasn’t me!” Sophia protested. “Anyway, your ‘knight in shining armor’ found out and realized you were in that creepy mansion the whole year?”

Chad. Ugh. Laurel really didn’t want to deal with him anymore. “What’s your point, Sophia?”

“He’s decided the stories are true and he’s going to kill the monster of the mansion.”

That got Laurel’s attention. “What?”

“He wants to kill the monster—Caroline, you called her? Um… you might want to do something…”

“Well, give me a hand then. Or a ride.”

“I can’t. I’m nowhere near your place and you need to get there fast.” Sophia’s voice had changed. Serious, somber, wise. But it slipped Laurel’s notice as the door opened and Belle walked in from work.

“Bye.” She hung up, and hurried to the oven, which she turned off. “Belle, I’m sorry. I know I just got back, but I think Caroline’s in trouble.” Laurel took a breath. “Please take me back there. Please.”

Laurel didn’t look at her sister’s face until Belle placed a hand on her shoulder. And when she nodded, Laurel decided she had the greatest sister on the planet.

Laurel and Belle arrived at the mansion quickly, Laurel jumping out of the car to see… a bunch of boys covered in cardboard? It was hard to tell in the lack of light, but finally Laurel could make out a few swords, shields and the like. They were wearing cardboard armor. LARPers. And they were all trembling, talking among themselves in hushed whispers.

Laurel approached one she vaguely recognized, tapping him on the shoulder, he jumped at the touch, whirling around with fear in his eyes. Then he relaxed when he realized it was Laurel.

“What are you doing here?” Laurel asked.

“Chad told us to come. He said we’d fight some demons. He’s… one of the leaders of our group, we figured it was a roleplay… it’s not. There are real monsters in there.”

“Okay. Where is Chad?”

“He ran in, fearless.”

With her information gathered, Laurel returned to Belle. “Belle, I have to go in. You don’t if you don’t want to…”

“I’m not letting you go alone,” Belle replied.

Laurel shot her an appreciative smile, and rushed off toward the door. The boys around were too scared for themselves to notice or try to stop them. Laurel knocked on the door. “Rose? Marie? Timothy? Carlos? It’s Laurel!”

There was silence for a moment, the boys having finally noticed and staring. Then the door creaked open.

Rose stood there, shocked. “You came back!”

“Of course I did,” Laurel said, hurrying through the door. “Where’s Caroline? Where’s Chad?”

“Chad?” Rose asked as she closed the door behind Belle.

“The leader of those guys. Tall, blond, perfectly punchable face…”

“I thought we chased him out. He was in here, yelling about killing the demon. About…” Her head shot up. “Caroline!”

“Where is she?” Laurel demanded.

“Her quarters. I… I’ll get the others!” And Rose was gone.

Laurel meanwhile, had taken off. She ran as fast as her legs could take her and accidentally left Belle behind in the process. She didn’t notice. She didn’t care. She had to get to Caroline before…

Laurel burst through the door to Caroline’s chambers. There was no one inside, but there were things overturned and the window was open. Laurel ran to the window, looking to the roof. It was hard to see, but with what light Laurel had, she could make out two figures, one of them having skin pale as the moonlight.

“Caroline!” She screamed. “Chad! Stop!”

The thinner, taller figure looked up when Laurel first screamed. “Laurel,” she breathed, and turned her attention to her attacker. The man, Chad, had old weapons, a sword and a dagger. He may had been overpowering her at first, but now… Caroline had something—someone—to fight for. She raised up, spreading her wings and overall making herself look massive. Then she snarled and jumped at him.

Claws raked his skin, but not deep enough to kill. As Chad ducked forward, Caroline leapt into the air, landing behind him and shoving him to the ground. His sword clattered on the roof, out of his grasp. She could do whatever she wanted. She could kill him, digging claws into his throat until he choked on his blood, but a stronger part, a newer part, called for mercy.

As Caroline made her decision, she heard footsteps. “Laurel!” Caroline looked up to see her love, her life, an expression of pure unadulterated joy on her face.

And Laurel watched as that expression twisted into one of pain. Chad let out a laugh. He’d stabbed Caroline in the stomach with a dagger. Caroline winced, yanked the dagger out, and glared at him.

All at once, Chad’s triumphant smirk turned into fear. “You think you can kill me? You can’t,” Caroline hissed. “Get out.” Caroline tossed the dagger away. It didn’t take long before Chad was gone, face white as a sheet, and the sounds of whimpers trailing behind him.

Laurel quickly hugged Caroline. “Thank God. You’re alright.”

Caroline pulled away uncomfortably, holding a hand to her stomach. Laurel looked down to see red leaking from between Caroline’s fingers. “W-Wait. N-No…”

“…I may have been faking. This actually really… hurts… I…” Caroline took a breath and fell to her knees. Laurel knelt beside her as Caroline sunk down, resting her head in Laurel’s lap. “I’m sorry, Laurel.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Caroline just looked up at Laurel as if Laurel was the most precious treasure known to humanity. “At least I got to see you again… one last time.”

“No… please…” Laurel begged. Caroline’s eyes closed, her breath stilled.

And Laurel sobbed. “No! You can’t leave me like this! Please! I… I love you, Caroline…”

And then everything was white. Light filtered from nowhere, so bright Laurel couldn’t see and had to look away. But she felt the weight of Caroline’s figure disappear. Before she could act, the light vanished, leaving Laurel to look frantically around before her eyes settled on a person lying on the ground in front of her.

Laurel couldn’t move, could only stare at the young woman. Her clothes were too large and torn, so it was difficult to properly see her figure, but she was slim, slimmer than Laurel was and maybe a hair taller. The woman’s hair was bright red and her skin was very fair and covered with freckles. And the woman stood up shakily, as if unused to standing on two feet.

The woman ran her hands over herself, silent, standing still as if in awe, and then she looked up right at Laurel. Her eyes brightened and she smiled a gapped-tooth smile and stepped toward Laurel. Laurel stiffened and the stranger stopped moving.

“Laurel?” The stranger asked in a soft voice, higher than Laurel’s and lilting like a bird’s song. “It’s me.”

Caroline? But it couldn’t be… Caroline was gone… wasn’t she? Nervously, Laurel stepped forward, slowly reaching a hand to the woman’s face. Had Caroline turned back into a human? Laurel pondered the thought quietly. But how could Laurel recognize her? Everything was different. The woman’s face had a squarish shape, with cracked lips, a flatter nose, and round eyes that were… Laurel’s breath hitched. They were a soft green-gray color. And the way they looked at Laurel. Laurel recognized that look.

All at once, Laurel let out a sob and tightly hugged Caroline, who stiffened for a moment before hugging Laurel back. “It’s you. It’s you.” Laurel murmured like a mantra.

“It’s me, Laurel. It’s me. I’m okay. Everything’s okay now. I love you.” Caroline had never told Laurel before.

Laurel released her in surprise before smiling. “I love you too.” And she leaned in and kissed her. Caroline seemed taken by surprise, but only for a heartbeat before she kissed Laurel back. As they parted, she rested her forehead against Laurel’s, taking in the moment.

“This is you,” Laurel breathed, both a question and not at the same time.

Caroline nodded, beaming. “Yes. You brought me back. You saved me.” Her smile widened and a laugh escaped. “It’s a miracle!” And they kissed again.

“So Laurel, it’s good to see you’re back from that haunted mansion all safe.”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Chad,” she huffed. “It’s not haunted.” That wasn’t even a lie. With the curse broken, all the servants had returned to human forms and most had gone their separate ways. Laurel quickly noted that Carlos and Timothy had been all too eager to run off together, just as she had suspected. Marie and had left as well, leaving Rose who wanted to stay with Caroline. And with the remaining fortune left within the mansion, Laurel’s household and home grew significantly larger almost overnight.

“Sure…” Chad said. “I know what I saw. I saw a demon! With my own two eyes. I faced it down, fought it, and lived! Pretty brave, huh?”

“Probably a figment of your imagination,” Laurel replied, turning away.

“Hey!” Chad grabbed Laurel’s arm. “Laurel, c’mon. You know that—”

“—Is there a problem?”

Laurel sighed in relief as her savior appeared, while Chad only huffed. “No thanks. Laurel and I were just talking. Go along.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m just here to get Laurel. Belle’s waiting for us, after all.” Caroline was smiling, slipping a hand into Laurel’s. “Now if you could let go of my girlfriend so we could go, that would be perfect.”

Chad dropped Laurel’s arm in shock. “Girlfriend?”

Laurel smiled as well. “Yes. This is Caroline. My girlfriend.”

“But you aren’t gay!”

Laurel stifled a chuckle, and she and Caroline walked off hand-in-hand, leaving Chad to mutter on repeat, “but she’s not gay.”

Laurel released her giggles once they turned a corner. “Did you hear him? I think he finally gets it.”

“He’s still in denial,” Caroline laughed. “That was great.”

“Yeah.” A kiss. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Anytime.”

Caroline was going kiss Laurel again when a voice called, “Laurel! Wait up!”

Sophia ran up in a hurry, slightly out of breath and laughing as well. “Did you break Chad? He’s going off about how you’re not gay.”

Laurel laughed again. “Yeah. I introduced him to my girlfriend. Oh! You haven’t met! Sophia, this is Caroline, my girlfriend. Caroline, this is Sophia, my best friend.”

Caroline smiled and shook Sophia’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Same to you.” While Sophia’s face looked happy, there was something else unreadable in their eyes that quickly faded as they studied Caroline. With introductions complete, Sophia turned back to Laurel. “I just wanted to ask. I think he may finally leave you alone.”

“If not now,” Laurel said, “a few more times seeing me with Caroline should knock it into his senses.”

Sophia nodded. “It’s good to see you so happy Laurel. You deserve love. You both do.”

Caroline stopped a moment. There was something about the way Sophia said those words, as if they knew Caroline and cared about her just like they did Laurel.

Before she could ask, Laurel said, “We better get going. Belle’s waiting for us. See you later, Sophia!”

“Goodbye,” Caroline said.

“Bye!” Sophia waved as the two turned around, but Sophia made no move to leave yet, just watching them. They were so happy, the way they leaned into each other, smiling brightly, the way their gaze lingered. The way Caroline’s arm was wound around Laurel’s waist as if she were the most precious thing she’d ever found.

It had worked. They knew she was running out of time. It was a gamble, setting the chain in motion. Who knew if Belle would go in the mansion, if Laurel would take her place, if Caroline would fall in love… but she did. She’d learned to love. And she gained love. They both found their happy ending and deserved it. And now it was time to let them go.

Then, in between blinks, Sophia disappeared. But if someone had been watching them that whole time, hadn’t blinked, they may have glimpsed teal hair turn to pure white curls and street wear change into a long red dress with embroidered roses just before Sophia disappeared. Perhaps you would call it witchcraft. Perhaps you would have called them a witch.

It didn’t matter though. Because that witch, that enchantress, was gone, leaving only a handful of rose petals where they had stood.