#the warm glow from the colorful houses.........screams and cries why am i not there now

[girlboyburger]

street corner sights, sounds, and skies ...

[sweeethinny]

The Duke - Chapter 10

A.N: OK, let's go Thank you very much to the comments, really, I know it takes time, but I'm glad you're here always waiting for a new chapter for your understanding: everything in *ITALIC* is flashback, it's a chapter basically made up of that, it explains some things it was the chapter i waited the longest to arrive, i liked it in the end, i hope you did too <3 AO3 | FF.NET | SIYE

It was a cold night, it had rained that afternoon and the sky was cloudy, it looked like it would rain later in the morning, but Arabella was happy about that, as the damp, muggy weather made her sneeze every minute and her asthma was actually getting worse. She should visit a doctor soon. She continued to walk down the empty street, the hem of her dress was getting more and more muddy, no matter how much she pulled her skirt up a little, every time she stepped into a puddle the mud splashed and it was no use effort in trying to get that dress clean. She should have picked an older one to go out with, since she knew the streets would be dreadful after all that rain, not the brand new one she'd bought after working so hard. Was it just a piece of sewn fabric, why was it so expensive? There weren't even enough details or buttons to justify it. But if Isabel was telling the truth, the fabric had come from India, and that in itself had already increased the price twice as much, and Arabella knew that the woman would not lie to her… She hoped at least. As she walked the streets of Godric's Hollow, she thought about how another lonely night would be, and that maybe tomorrow she would send a letter to her great-aunt asking if she could stay a few days at her farm, just to have the company of other people besides the two her cats; Silk and Melindra. “Help!” The scream echoed behind her, and Arabella turned, startled, to see if anyone was hurt or what might have triggered that scream. It was a female scream, and it made her think that maybe a woman could be chased by some maniac, and even though she wasn't very strong, two women fought better than just one, so she ran towards the scream, not caring more about the mud splashing on her dress. Near Ms. Bright’s shop, there was a woman lying down and bleeding, her clothes torn and a baby in her lap. She looked scared, dumped near a ditch that had been made a few days ago to start building a fashion studio around the corner, the scant dress that still covered her was smeared with what looked like blood and mud, and Arabella thought she saw blood running down her legs. Whether it was an injury or something more disturbing, she couldn't tell. The woman held the baby tightly to her chest, wrapped in an old blanket as dirty as she was, and the poor child spared no effort in crying, looking more than scared. “I'm here, what happened?” Arabella ran to her, helping the poor girl to her seat, noticing that the poor baby was also smeared with blood, but she couldn't tell whose blood it was. ‘Come, come to my house, I can help you-’ "No," she cried, brown eyes startled and wide, as if they'd seen death a few feet away. “Someone is following me, I – I'm going to be killed, I know I will, my husband is after me and – you need to get the boy.” She lifted the baby towards Arabella. 'He's trying to kill us, he thinks the child isn't his, he thinks I cheated on him, and he's coming, I-' The woman stopped, as if she'd heard something, but then thunder made the Earth shudder. ‘Please save the boy, I beg you, he already tried to kill the boy but I was always on time, but now I feel like I won't be able to save him.’ “You must come with me.” Arabella pleaded once more, kneeling in front of the woman, trying to get her to rise. When she reached for her forearm, however, her hand was wet with blood, and the tear in the side of her dress let her see a hideous cut in her ribs, the blood running like water in a waterfall, dripping onto the floor and other parts of her dress. "I told you," she muttered, sobbing. 'I'm going to die, I'm not going to make it, I can't stand walking any longer, I managed to run away from him but I can't stand it much longer… Take the boy.' The woman lifted the boy again, who now seemed to cry even more, waking a few neighborhood dogs, as the sky glowed brighter, the earth trembling a few seconds later. "Take him away, don't let him die." 'How-how am I going to leave you here, I can't-' Another thunder shook the earth, and this time, the storm began to fall stronger

than the afternoon, the winds suddenly getting strong, which seemed to scare the boy even more. ‘He will get sick! Get him, take care of him!” As if on instinct, Arabella scooped him up in her arms, wrapping him in her scarf so he was a little warmer. Footsteps were heard nearby, and the woman seemed to despair even more. 'Go! Get Harry and go!’ “What's his name?” Arabella yelled over the noise of the rain, trying to understand what she had said. ‘Henry! His name is Henry!’ ---------------------- “Poor Duchess,” someone says, but all Arabella can see is the white flag atop the castle, an immense sadness shattering her chest into a million pieces. "Who could do something that horrible?" Another says, all paying attention to the newspaper that reports how Harry Potter, the Duke's eldest son, was found dead near a creek not far away. Probably killed by Death Eaters. “They're all nasty human beings!” A man said, looking horrified by the media descriptions, then looking up at the castle again. It's not that far away, it faces the mountains that end Godric's Hollow, separating them from another village, and it's positioned in a way that's seen from anywhere, no matter where you are, you'll see the castle and the huge towers, next to the flags that stand proudly on the masts. One with the English flag, the other with the Potter family crest. But today, both give way to white flags. The boy is dead. Arabella wipes the tears from her eyes and watches little Henry sleep in her arms, oblivious to the commotion. She sympathizes with the Duchess's pain as she looks at that little baby who nearly died along with her mother - Arabella knew that the woman's body was found lifeless the next morning - and remembers the time she too felt the pain of losing a child, of losing the one she loved most to Death Eaters. She kisses the boy's forehead, the pale scar of lightning makes him unique, and Arabella lets herself cry, thinking of the Duchess herself, and how they took away her right to fondle her own son. ---------------------- Arabella did not remember seeing the Duke in public since the incident two years ago. He smiles and nods, but she notices - because she's been there once too - that he's sick, that the gold-and-red scarf around his neck seems to have a lot of fabric left over, as well as his pants. She notices the dark circles under his eyes, and the sunken cheeks, but the man still smiles and waves at people. Henry was on her lap, yesterday he turned two, and Arabella doesn't know very well when he was born, but her neighbor, who is a doctor, said he wasn't much older than four or five months, so she decided that his birthday would be the day before they met, because she thought it was too tragic to celebrate the day she found him in his mother's lap half dead, but she didn't want to stray too far from the date. The Duke smiles and nods to a little girl on his father's shoulders, he is walking through the village as he usually does, something that brings him closer to the people who live there and keeps him in power. He's a good man, after his father, the best they've ever had for sure. He stops when he gets close to Arabella, and she smiles because she used to paint the portraits of the royal family until she had a problem with her fist and was forced to quit her profession, but the man never seems to forget the time she drew him on his 17th birthday. "I'm still waiting for you to draw me and my wife." He says, as he always has since she informed him that she had unfortunately been forced to stop. The man isn't charging her though, he smiles, and watches Henry in her lap, almost sleeping on her shoulder. “It's a beautiful boy.” She thought she saw a shadow in his eyes, but it was so fast she thought it was just her imagination. 'How old is he?' "Two years," she says, and now she's sure the man looks sick, because for a second he stops and stares at Henry, as if wondering what his two-year-old son would be like. Arabella knows because she used to do this. "My condolences, my Lord." "It's okay, I’m fine," the

man says, and he winks at Henry, who hides in his mother's neck, before going off to talk to another woman. ---------------------- “Why are we different?” Henry asks, sitting on the table as Arabella tends to his scraped knee. 'We don't have the same eye color, and my hair doesn't match yours.' She knows he doesn't mean to be mean, he's just a curious and very intelligent child, that he's noticed the dissimilarities between them. She smiles, applying ointment to the wound. ‘Because you are my son at heart, and children at heart are sometimes not like their mothers at heart.’ 'What is a child at heart?' He agrees to be picked up by her, and Arabella leads them into their small living room, sitting on the sofa with Henry on her lap, looking at her with big green eyes gleaming with curiosity, black strands falling over his eyelashes. She needs to cut his hair soon. “It means that you were born from another belly, not mine.” She places a hand over her stomach. “But that's just what separates us, because my love for you surpasses any barrier.” Arabella smiles, kissing his cheek, and Henry seems satisfied with the explanation. 'I love you so much too, this size here!' He opens his arms as much as he can, and the demonstration warms her heart as always, making her smile and hug her son as tightly as she assures him that she loves him even more. | J. P | James was concentrating on the duels when Remus arrived. He was marveling at how well Mr. Figg dueled, neither shivering nor losing time when Mr. Rosier hit back one of his spells, and the man didn't even look tired. He had always found dueling an incredibly boring and dull part of parties when he was younger, accompanied by his father and seeing the men fall in a few minutes, James preferred the parties and the after, when the house was silent and dark and he could go out to meet some woman. It was at one of these parties that he met Lily, during a nighttime getaway he saw her jumping out the window. First he followed her thinking that she was also going to meet someone, and James being a curious young man that he was, he wondered what kind of man that woman liked to sneak with. Maybe he had a chance. But later, when he saw her come out of the house and run towards the lake nearby, James didn't understand. She didn't like him following her, of course, it had been a dumb idea and nowadays he was ashamed of his younger self's actions, but that's what got them talking for the first time. She smiled in embarrassment as he praised her ability to climb a vine. "James!" Remus called after him, cheeks flushed and blue eyes pained toward him. The first thing that came to his mind was that Lily was hurt, and that made him lose all interest in watching the Duel and made him turn to his friend in alarm. “What happened?” He tried to be as discreet as possible, trying to keep other men from noticing his splurge. Sirius did a good job of distracting two young men. "Lily needs you…and she asked me to take Mr. Figg too." Remus muttered the last part, making James frown and look at the boy on his left, who had finally won the duel. Rosier looked tired. 'Is it urgent.' "Is she hurt?" It was a valid concern, James feared his wife would get sicker now that she was surrounded by people, and maybe someone had said something to her and Lily had one of her fits again. ‘And why does she want the boy? Should I tell Arthur? ‘No, don't say anything to anyone, just come… We're in the dungeons.’ ---------------------- Henry did not know how to control his magic, and that distressed Arabella. If he was a Muggle it would be so much easier, she knew that, because when Henry made that poor boy float, and then made a flower vase explode, she knew she would have to explain a lot to him: Why couldn't he go to a proper college and why she didn't do magic like he did. Arabella no longer felt ashamed of being a Squib, she had accepted the condition and lived normally, or at least as she managed to, avoiding whenever anyone asked about it just to avoid people's prejudice. Some thought she was a

Muggle who had married a wizard, and that's why she knew so much about it. Others thought that she just hadn't had a chance to go to school, and that's why she didn't know how to properly control magic. "They made fun of me!" Henry said, annoyed, his eyes red from crying. “They said things—horrible things to me!” He sobbed, which made Arabella even sadder and more worried. His green eyes glistened with tears, staring at her for answers. "They told me I-I'll never be good at-at anything." He sobbed louder and louder, the scraped knee now forgotten, as if the internal pain was much bigger. She was about to cry with him. “Henry, honey, listen to me.” She took a deep breath, thinking that conversation had come earlier than she'd planned. ‘What they said is a lie. They don't know how to control their magic either, they probably won't for a good few years, and you're already good at a lot of things, of course you are, Henry. You're much better at putting together puzzles, and you're much faster too, I mean, you always win at the races.' Arabella smiled sweetly, smoothing his messy hair, thinking how unfair it was that such a sweet little boy already got to know this side of life. She wished she could just show the good side of life, and leave the thorns and stones for when he understood things better. Arabella wondered how her mother managed to do this so masterfully, because right now, she wanted to be able to hex the parents of those boys and force them to teach their children more respect for others. She wished it had been her who had been pushed and thrown out of the game, not her child. Her heart broke even more, feeling helpless. ‘Don't listen to what they say, ok? You're amazing, a very smart kid, and your future will be bright.” She promised, because it was true. Arabella would do anything for her son. ---------------------- Henry ran as fast as he could, passing through the trees and not even bothering with the branches that scratched his skin, he just needed to get out of there. He knew he shouldn't have pissed off those boys, but they were scaring another younger boy, and just because they'd now gone to that stupid school of stupid people, they thought they were even better than the rest of the people there. Henry wished he could go to Hogwarts, but his mother had told him that you needed to receive a letter, and that they were only sent for a few families - maybe if you're lucky you get the letter, she said smiling, even though the smile didn't reach her eyes. Arabella had never said this, but Henry knew he would probably never get the letter; he wasn't rich and he didn't have a father, and for some reason, that seemed to be enough to keep him away from others. He ran even faster when he heard loud laughter, he wasn't afraid of those kids anymore, Henry had grown up while they were in school, more than they were, but they had one advantage: magic. Arabella couldn't buy a wand, so he didn't have one, and even if he did, he wouldn't know how to use it. “You're a wimpy coward if your only way to fight is with magic…don't you know how to punch?” Henry had said to Jilian, the biggest idiot of them all. Henry wasn't very good at punching, but he was very fast, while when Greg tried to cast a spell on him, he ran off into the forest, barely noticing when his own magic created a dome around him, preventing any spells from hitting him. . ---------------------- “Why are we so different?” Henry asked, taking a seat beside Arabella as she kneaded the bread on the table. She looked at him, noticing that the boy was all sweaty and looking a little smudged with dirt. “How many times have I told you not to go into the woods?” She returned her gaze to the dough, continuing to knead. "It's quieter there." He shrugged, pulling his sweaty hair off his forehead, letting his scar show for a few seconds before hiding it again. “And more dangerous too, and you know it.” Arabella raised her eyebrows, scolding him. She'd heard horrible stories of people meeting a werewolf deep in the woods, and as much as she didn't

know whether or not it was true, she didn't want Henry to take any chances like that. He was only 13 years old, he should have been playing with the other kids on the street and not running into the trees. "Okay, I won't do it anymore." He sighed, but she knew he would break that promise the next time he had the opportunity. ‘But then? Why aren't we alike?’ "Henry, because you were born from another belly. I already said that" She placed the buns in the oven, washing her hands afterwards and looking up at him with a gentle smile on her face. "I met you when you were very young, you know this story." "But why can I make things float and you can't?" His green eyes stared at her with an expression much harder and more serious than she was used to, as if he would know if she lied. ‘Because not all of us are born doing magic. Some of us are good at something other than magic… It's something you need to be born knowing how to do, you can't develop it, just improve it.” Arabella swallowed, trying not to show so much the scars that had left on her. People weren't kind when they found out you were a Squib. He was quiet for a few minutes, looking at his hands as if he wanted to find the right words. The sun streaming through the kitchen windows illuminated his black hair, a few strands reflecting an almost red copper color that Arabella thought was beautiful. 'Can you never do magic?' He looked at her, and all the worry she'd ever felt, scared that maybe Henry would feel sorry for her or ashamed of her, drained and slipped out as his green eyes stared at her, full of affection and sadness. Not the same sadness that always came with grief, but as if he felt bad that he did magic and she didn't, as if he understood now why some people offended her and treated her differently. "No." She gave a half smile. "But I'm not sad about it anymore, I like who I am." And it was true. Henry nodded, still being silent for a while, seeming to absorb the information, then he got up from the wooden bench, walking over to her and hugging her. He was no longer her little boy—as much as he always would be her baby—Henry now almost reached her chest, and it wouldn't be long before he was taller than her. She hugged him back, enjoying this show of affection, imagining that a few years from now he wouldn't like hugs so much. "I love you," he said. ‘I love you very much too. Forever and ever.” Arabella kissed the top of his head, tightening her hold even more, as if she was afraid someone would suddenly take him away from her. ---------------------- It had been a long time since James had been in the dungeons, he didn't like going there, it was cold, wet, lonely, and it made him think too much. It made him think his son's things were there, in boxes organized as if they were just another mess and not everything he and Lily had ever dreamed of. It made him think of the pain that resided in his chest, the emptiness that nothing in the world had ever been able to fill. James hated the dungeons. Lily, unlike him, loved being there, she said it was the best place for her to think, and the calmest of all - 'It's where I feel that no one will look at me with pity, where I can think of my son in peace, you know what I'm talking about," she said when James questioned her about the surroundings. He knew, he understood her, James had changed into Prongs many more times than necessary, he did it every time the pain got too much to take. He walked down the stairs, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine, couldn't anyone make this place something less scary? After Remus left, James warned Sirius, who tried to pretend as best he could and further entertain the men who now looked curious to death, while he went to talk to Mr. Figg. "I need you to accompany me, but I need you to do this cautiously and discreetly," James asked, looking into those green eyes closely, trying to remember where he knew that expression. "I'll go ahead, meet me in five minutes at the entrance to the stone path, do you know where it is?" The man nodded, tucking

his wand into the waistband of his pants and straightening his robes. 'I'll let Arthur know I'll take you, just so he won't be worried, but I think you understand that you shouldn't say anything to anyone, right?' "Yes, my Lord." The man made a brief, discreet bow, and James grimaced, not understanding why that made him uncomfortable. Now James heard footsteps behind him as he walked through the dungeon, neither of them saying anything. Why had Lily asked Mr. Figg to come along? Had she found out something about the boy? Something bad? James glanced quickly over his shoulder, noticing that the man looked warmed too, his hands behind him and his back straight. Has something happened to Miss Weasley? Well, if so, Arthur would be called too, right? James broke off as soon as he reached the last room, the one he avoided the most, and the only one with lighted candles. The first thing he saw when he entered were the boxes, stacked against a wall, then he realized there were some of Harry's things on the floor, smeared with dirt and sticks, and James' heart missed a beat when he saw the Snitch Pajamas The gold one he'd bought when he found out Lily was pregnant was now all filthy and torn. Had they been attacked? Was that why Lily sent for him? Then he saw Remus, opening Lily's herb cabinet and looking for something inside, he looked worried. In the back, near the only window there, was Peter, all smeared with mud too, sitting on the floor with his hands behind his back, his red cheeks making him look like a child caught doing something wrong, and his rumpled clothes hinting that he had fought someone. Finally, sitting on the bench was Lily. Her dress was dirty too, but that wasn't what James first noticed, it was her red face, her pink cheeks like when she drank wine, her hands shaking as she poured something into the cauldron, looking more nervous than ever. "What's going on?" James glanced at the three of them, feeling even more anxious. "Lily, what the fuck is going on?" "Did you bring Henry?" James frowned at her calling the man by his first name, but nodded anyway, Peter sighed in the corner, looking almost terrified, not making eye contact with James for a moment. ‘Great, send him in.’ ---------------------- Henry knew he shouldn't be there, his mother had forbidden him, but he had nowhere else to go. Jilian had come back from his stupid school and he seemed more than happy to train some spells on Henry, and even though he had honed his punching technique, he couldn't compete with magic. So he ran into the forest. It was cold there, it had rained last night and the earth had turned to mud, and because of the tall trees the sun's rays didn't penetrate as much, and the whole environment ended up getting wetter than usual. Henry shivered as the wind made him wonder why he hadn't grabbed a jacket. He was sitting on the usual rock, it was close to the river that separated them from the Muggles, and it gave him a good view across the village. There were houses like the ones on this side, but they always looked a lot less colorful than the ones he was used to, and there weren't as many flowers and trees either, as if the Muggles were willing to clear every bit of land they found, leaving everything gray and monotonous. Henry had asked his mother if they could go to that side of the village, but Arabella had been stern to say he was forbidden to even think about going to the Muggles. He chuckled softly, thinking that if it hadn't been for the river that separated them, he probably would have managed to at least get there, curious as always. A noise startled him, making him jump and hide behind the rock, praying it wasn't one of Jilian's friends, as he would be at such a disadvantage. There wasn't much to run now, Henry had almost reached the end of the forest, and unless he took a chance and ran towards the darkest and scariest part, the other option was to jump into the river. And he wasn't doing any of those things. But when he didn't hear voices or anything to indicate they were people, he stood up,

watching a deer walking around, distracted by everything, as if nothing else mattered. Henry had never seen one this close, and he was a little fascinated by the animal, he understood why there are two deer on the Potter family crest. It really was a beautiful animal, and if he could choose, he would also want them emblazoned on his chest. Henry stepped out from behind the rock, careful not to startle the animal, trying to get as close as he could. “Hey,” he called, even though it didn't make much sense. The animal turned, eyes huge now in his direction. It had been a bad idea, he cursed himself mentally, imagining that that animal was too big and would probably kill him without a second thought… Did deer eat human flesh? Henry didn't know, but they probably hurt anyone who scared them and made them feel in danger. The animal approached, slowly, and each step made the boy's stomach turn and his heart race. Deer were fast, much faster than Henry was. He was dead. But when the animal's black eyes got much closer than Henry had ever thought he saw, the animal bowed, as if saying hello to him. Without thinking twice, he did the same, maintaining eye contact with the deer. Heavens, couldn't he be less weird? Bending over to deer, blowing things up without meaning to... Henry stood up after a while, being careful to do this as slowly as possible, still afraid the deer would decide to kill him then and there. But the animal seemed to have other plans, because he lay down in front of the boy, as if he were an adorable little dog. Henry sat beside him too, having no choice; he didn't have many friends, and he had nothing else to do, so why not? His ass got a little wet from the dirt, but nothing too uncomfortable. The deer shifted and brought its head closer to Henry's crossed leg, as if asking for affection, and the boy didn't wait for another move to do so, leaning his back against the stone and reaching out to stroke the slightly coarse fur of the animal For some strange reason, Henry felt comfortable doing it, as if he had done it before, it was something familiar that burned in his chest. But he didn't think about it much, just fell silent and watched the forest in front of him. ---------------------- "Lily, what's going on?" James asked, feeling uneasy as he watched the tension surround the room, Remus looked nervous and Peter avoided looking up, as if he was suddenly afraid to face one of them. Lily turned to James, her green eyes seemed to glow with hatred, her nostrils swollen, an expression he'd seen a few times over the years, but one that always scared him. "What... What happened?" Her shaky voice made him look at Remus again, the worry growing by the second. "Oh James." She shook her head, as if suddenly too much pain hit her, and he ran to her protection, opening his arms to hold her and protect her from anything that had happened while he was gone. "Guys, anyone…?" He glanced at his friends, but again, Peter didn't look at him. "Tell him, Peter!" Lily yelled, breaking out of James' embrace and turning to the man sitting on the floor, pointing her wand in his direction. ‘Lily, what the hell!?’ "No, James," She held up a hand, silencing him. "Tell Peter, tell him what you did to our son." His world stopped, his eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets as James stared at his friend, begging for all that was most sacred that he hadn't quite understood. Peter was his brother, his best friend, they met when they went to Hogwarts together, he was there when James needed it most, when they decided to become Animagus… Peter wouldn't do that, he couldn't! James doubted that one day the pain of losing a child would be replaced by another, that hellish emptiness that tore at him more and more inside, that made him not sleep well on rainy nights, that still made him walk into the boy's immaculate room and sit on the floor wondering what he should have done differently. He would do anything to get his son back, his boy. But the pain that hit him when Peter shook his head and lowered his head, making him

realize his hands were tied behind his body, came very close. His best friend… betrayed him? "Peter?" James pleaded, begged, for it to be a lie, for Lily to be mad. It was a lie! It had to be. "I had to, James... I... he made me." ---------------------- The weather was not so good, Peter realized when he Apparated, the sky was dark and windy like never before. He should have worn another cloak, this one was too thin and made him cold. And other gloves too, because now these were bloody and torn. Who knew a woman could be so strong? Peter dragged the woman's passed out body with him, feeling a little sickened by that when he realized her wound was getting worse with each passing minute, he needed to be quick. Leaving the body where no one could find it, he pulled a strand of her hair into the potion and then took it, the horrible taste of iron made him want to spit it out on the floor, but now there was no turning back, he would have to swallow and continue with the plan. Lord Voldemort had promised him a great reward in exchange for the boy's life, and for the first time in a long time, Peter felt important and wanted. It wasn't that Black boy who was chosen, or even Snape, no no, he was the one Voldemort thought capable of completing the mission, he thought he was strong enough. How long has it been since? He only stayed inside the Order because James kept him there, no one really wanted him there, not even Dumbledore, Peter didn't need him to say it to know, it was visible to everyone. For the old man, any other man could do the job better than he… Probably if Lily were there too, she would be chosen before Peter. Potter this, Black that, Peter was tired. Why didn't anyone realize he was also strong and smart? Well, now that was over, Voldemort had seen his potential and chosen him to do this mission, and Peter wasn't going to fail now. When he was fully transformed into that whore, he apparated into the castle, glad the potion didn't stop him from doing so. Stupid James should have put in better security than a simple spell. Peter had seen James that afternoon, he said that today was Harry's first night trying to sleep alone and that he and Lily were excited to see how he would react to the change, so the plan would be even easier to execute. As excited as Peter was at the idea of ​​being useful to someone, he knew he couldn't kill James, he had to really want to do it with all his heart. When he reached the boy's room, Peter looked around, noting the choice of bright, cheerful colors, the many teddy bears scattered around, the photos on the walls and in the frames above the dresser. Little Harry slept peacefully in his bed, wrapped in the pale blue blanket, looking peaceful, cuddled up with his deer teddy bear. He was a lot like James, Peter thought, watching the boy move his short legs like he was kicking something in the dream. He hadn't really thought about that part of the plan, he figured he'd have the guts to just take the boy and end his life right there, or in some alley farther along, but when Peter picked him up, being careful not to waking him up, that lavender scent invaded his nostrils and he watched the baby more closely. The boy looked helpless in his arms, like he wasn't even real, and if he wasn't watching the boy's belly rise and fall, Peter would think he was a doll. Voldemort would never know if he had killed the boy or not, and pausing to analyze the situation now, Peter also didn't know if he could kill the boy. He wanted to show that he was strong and useful, but a baby? Harry looked so…small. When he stirred, startling Peter, and seemed to be looking for something - maybe his mother's scent - he realized it was time to act, there was no turning back, it had to be now. And when lightning flashed in the sky, he cast a spell to prevent Harry from listening when he broke the glass to fake an escape, Peter waited for thunder to do so and then Apparated out of the castle, knowing that this was the best thing to do. There were two paths now, and he needed to think quickly

which was better, kill Harry and throw him in some hole, or give the boy to someone else. Of course he would risk this person recognizing the baby, but he would have to bet his luck on finding another baby like this for Lily and James to bury, or maybe even run to the Muggle village and find some woman there. It had to be fast, Harry would wake up any second and Peter didn't have much time after that. As soon as he spotted a woman a few blocks away and Harry opened his eyes in his arms, Peter acted without thinking, taking the knife from his pants pocket and opening a wound in his ribs, before starting to scream for help. ---------------------- James clapped his hand over his mouth, denying it over and over, not believing what he was hearing. No no no no. This had to be a lie, this had to be a lie. Peter would never do that, Peter was his brother, he would never… No, this could only be a joke. He could barely handle the pain right now, thinking he'd rather die than have to deal with it. It hurt so much that James thought he might start bleeding at any moment, his chest lacerated after hearing about it. He couldn't even feel angry. His boy, his little boy, whom he'd loved so much ever since Lily told him she was pregnant, that it made him want to scream from the top of the roof in so much joy… “I could kill you right now,” he said, after what seemed like an eternity, barely able to face the traitor. "But…" James shook his head, closing his eyes to try to make it hurt a little less, his father's voice resonating through his mind; "You must be careful with Peter," he said before he died. "Men like him are easily attracted to the side that shines the most." James had thought his father was delusional when he said that, thought it was the fever, but no, the bastard really was a weakling and a coward. Letting himself be attracted to those he once hated. If he really hated it. "I can't even look at you." James turned to Lily, who looked distraught to death at having to hear that story. He wanted to kill Peter even more for making her suffer like that. The traitor had been there the next day, helping with the searches, he had hugged Lily when she cried, told her everything would be fine. "James, give me your hand," asked Lily, her own trembling, reaching out towards him. 'Why?' "Lils…he could be lying—" She shook her head, telling Remus to shut up. "Give me your hand James." Now her voice was stronger, more determined, and her green eyes sparkled even more. He did so, letting her grab his palm and run the tip of the knife, causing the blood to drip and smear her workbench and floor, before finally dripping into the cauldron. “Lily, what are you doing?” But she didn't answer him, cutting her own palm and spilling her blood along with his, then looking over her husband's shoulder. She looked more nervous than ever, and her severed hand shook even more as she held it out to the man behind James. "Give me your hand, Henry." Her green eyes sparkled with tears, and James didn't know if the man did as she asked just because she was a Duchess, or because she was crying. "Yes, ma'am." He walked over and let her do the same thing with his palm, passing the tip of the knife and then letting the blood spill into the cauldron. The potion began to bubble fiercely, as did James' chest when he realized what Lily was up to. He had seen her make this potion a few times, and if his thinking was correct, then maybe he could vomit right there, his stomach churning and making him feel weak. James didn't want to get his hopes up, it only served to hurt when unrequited, but he was unable to hold back the urge and looked at the man behind him, and then at Peter, who now looked even more guilty, if that was possible. If this was another one of his jobs with Voldemort, James knew he would kill him right there, with his bare hands. Forget magic and wands, he would tear that mouse apart like a hungry lion. James turned to the cauldron again when Lily sobbed and he smelled the lavender scent all over the room, and the once gray

potion was now a pinkish hue, the three drops of blood seemed to dance in the middle of the liquid, before of finally meeting at the end, getting connected. "Harry." Lily turned to the man, but James remained frozen, watching the cauldron in front of him. They had never reached this result, usually the potion would explode or nothing happened, and the smell was never that sweet aroma that seemed to fill all the hollows in his chest, as if he suddenly felt no more pain. As he turned back, as Lily advanced towards the boy, James thought that maybe nothing would ever compare to this. "Harry," Lily repeated, but this time she touched him, and as if the boy felt it too, he lowered his green eyes to her. James remembered then where he knew that look… It was Lily's eyes. Her trembling hand went to his forehead, lifting the hair lying there, just to let them see the lightning scar marked into his skin. It was too much to handle, James didn't know how he was still standing, but suddenly he started to feel tears rolling down his cheeks and as if this was the last drop of water to overflow the bucket, he sobbed. He inched closer to Lily, wanting to take a closer look at his son, as if he was afraid this was a dream and soon he would no longer have the chance to memorize every detail of it. His boy… "You-" Harry trailed off, as if he was feeling like James and Lily, his chest filling up and all that emptiness seeming to finally heal. "My parents?" He looked at James, and it was as if time had never passed. He still had the same expression as that little baby James used to cuddle up to sleep on. "I knew I knew you from somewhere," James managed to say, his throat seeming to scratch with the effort it took. "I would never be able to forget…" He didn't mind the tears rolling down his face, but he tried to wipe the ones down Harry's face. "I would never be able to forget my son."

[pixelatedrose]

Amnesiac

Word Count: 2,252

Ghostbur goes through through the resurrection ritual and meets a very familiar person

Amnesiac

  Ghostbur felt his skin burning and he screamed at the sensation. It’d been too long since he’d felt anything- even something like pain- and part of him almost enjoyed it.

  He vaguely felt eyes on him as the world started to fade away. He heard people talking in low tones, heard them discussing his pain like it was an experiment. It was, after all. He swears the last thing he saw was Phil as his old father tried to hold him, even now.

  And then Ghostbur’s world went blank.

  And...Then he was...Back.

  Where…?

  He felt like he should know this place, a warm hilltop with dry grass scratched over it, the sky a cloudy and warm ash color, though it almost made the area look dead.

  He turned slightly and saw two people standing side by side. One looked...Familiar in a way that Ghostbur didn’t like and couldn’t place. One of them reminded him of Friend- oh...Friend...Ghostbur missed Friend...But...Where did Friend go again? He thinks he should find him. Maybe these two can help him!!

  He called out to the two figures cheerily, a wave in his hand. “Hello there!! I’m looking for Friend, do you think you can help me?” The two people turned and something caught in Ghostbur’s throat.

  That look.

  No no no no…

  No that’s gone.

  He’s gone.

  That look is supposed to be dead.

  Eyes so rich of brown they looked red, unkempt hair falling over a tired gaze, the harshness in the glare, a snarl quirking his mouth in a horrible way.

  Why was Ghostbur there again? He feels like he should remember...No he does remember- no no no he does…

  …

  But he doesn’t want to remember, does he?

~~*~~

  Ghostbur gasped in a breath of air. The blue stains around the slash in his sweater had grown, and he had blue all over his hands.

  Wait…

  “Dammit!!!” Ghostbur pouted and slammed his hand against the grass. “W-why- why didn’t it-” He began angrily marching his way over, back to the altar, his still ghostly form skipping every few steps and floating above the ground breathily. “Phil, why didn’t it work?!” He asked, nearing the lapis and gold amalgamation of ‘his past’. “I-I- I’m still!! Phil I’m still here a-and I’m still a ghost, and Everything was dark for a bit, and then- then there was- was-” What was there? Where had he gone? What had he seen? What had happened again? Why was he so mad?

  No! Something in Ghostbur scolded him. No, this isn’t happening now! You’re trying to get Alivebur back, and you’re mad because it didn’t work. Tommy- when had Tommy gotten there? Whatever- Tommy clasped some blue into Ghostbur’s hand, he said something along the lines of ‘breath’ and the ghostly boy watched with slowly puffed breaths as the translucent substance began to turn the color of the sky, deepening until it matched the deep of the lapis behind him.

  When Ghostbur had calmed- thank blue- he was then assaulted with questions and soft panic wrapped in frustration.

  “Why didn’t it work?”

  Ghostbur stammered. “I-I don’t-”

  “What did we do wrong?”

  Ghostbur looked sideways. “Maybe-”

  “What did you see?”

  Ghostbur tugged at his sweater sleeves. “I-It was hard to make out-” You mean you can’t remember…

  Everyone was talking all around him at once and Ghostbur wished, now more than ever, that Friend was there. Friend was kind. Friend was calm. Friend never yelled, never complained, never shouted. Friend was safe…

  Ghostbur floated quietly up to Phil and tugged lightly in his coat. “P-Phil…”

  Phil turned away from the arguing and Ghostbur pretended he didn’t notice the pain behind his kind smile. “Yeah, Wil? It’s alright, bud, we’re figuring it out-”

  “N-no, Phil, I just…” Ghostbur glanced every which way, the noises around him seemed to be amplifying, and suddenly the spacious hole felt suffocating. “I-I think- I want to- I think maybe…” He was having trouble with his words now, why? Why was he so bad at being anything except a shadow of a person, why was he so bad at being alive, at remembering things, at doing things right? He was almost silent when he spoke, his words as much of a ghost as himself. “I want to find Friend first…”

  Phil smiled kindly and nodded, ruffling the ghost’s whispering hair, small stars of ethereal light snowing out of it. “Yeah, we can find Friend first, Wil.”

  They searched for almost an hour or more- finding one sheep or another, wild or caged- waiting for one of them to approach the blue that Ghostbur offered, the misty boy never quite finding the right sheep, never quite finding Friend.

  Half way through the search, his mind alive with static noises and worry and constantly growing panic, Ghostbur’s vision went black again.

  The static fluctuated and made Ghostbur’s head hurt and his stomach nauseous. At one point the noise was so loud he fell to his knees and cried out loud, covering his ears as they began to ring loudly, accompanying the symphony of dread and static.

  Then all at once it was gone.

  “Why...are you here…?”

  Ghostbur looked up at the voice- it sounded like his voice, but there was no mistake that it...wasn’t. And when he met those brown eyes- eyes so rich they looked like rust- he felt like he could cry. Something about the way they glared- tired, worn, pained, angry- felt like an ache in Ghostbur’s chest. Like he should remember something, like his soul could remember it but something was blocking it back.

  Ghostbur looked back at the inky black below his hands. “I-I...don’t…” He swore he could almost see his reflection in the black, see his pale, glowing eyes shedding specs of light like a cartoon fairy. “I can’t remember…” He said, tears beginning to brim his eyes. The static was growing louder, louder, louder- there was so much noise and so suddenly memories upon memories poured into his mind, too quick for him to recognize them, and it hurt and the noise grew louder and louder and louder and there was no escape and-

  Ghostbur was in a dark room. He looked around for a moment before hearing a voice behind him. He recognized the voice like his own, but colder and older.

  “Why are you here?”

  There was the noise of static building up in his mind.

  He couldn’t remember-

  “No.” The word had tumbled out of his own mouth and Ghostbur froze slightly. He calmed his brain as best he could, the static retreating. You’re here to bring back Alivebur… Ghostbur took a breath and turned to face the voice that was so like his own in horrible ways. “I-I’m here to bring back Alivebur…”

  Rust eyes narrowed at him. “Wh-”

  Static crashed down onto Ghostbur like an anvil, and the whispery boy screamed from the pain and noise.

  And then he was back.

  Back?

  Where had he gone?

  No he hadn’t gone anywhere, he was looking for Friend.

~~*~~

  Eret had found Friend, and once again the ritual was reenacted.

  Again, Ghostbur felt like his very being was ablaze and he screamed.

  Again, the last thing Ghostbur remembered before it all went black once more, was Phil still trying to hold his old son in his arms.

  And Ghostbur was back again.

  It was the same hill, same grass, and- same rusty eyes…

  “Hello.” Ghostbur breathed.

  “Hello…” Wilbur responded.

  There was an air of pause as they stared at one another, a soft breeze blowing Wilbur’s large coat and ruffling Ghostbur’s hair. The ghost boy seemed to snap out of his trance and took a confident step forward. “I-I’m supposed to bring you home! You’re Alivebur, right?”

  Wilbur’s eyes narrowed painfully. “I don’t want to go back. I died for a reason, you know.”

  Ghostbur took another step forward. “I know! I think...I-I’m not really sure, actually- but all I know is that you have to come back!”

  Wilbur’s rust eyes filled with hurt- why was he so upset? “No, you don’t get it! I can’t come back. I’m dead for a reason.”

  Ghostbur didn’t understand. Wilbur was always so bent on chaos- wouldn’t he jump at the chance to come back and cause more? He took another step forward. “But they need Alivebur!! I can’t do anything by myself! Don’t you want to come back and even see them?”

  Wilbur was silent and he turned away from the specter of himself.

  Ghostbur took this as an invitation to continue, placing another foot forward. “You should want to come back, right? Don’t you want to see Fundy, or Phil? Tommy and Tubbo and Niki- You’re Wilbur!! You’re more him than I am, you should want to-”

  Ghostbur missed the way with every word, every step closer, Wilbur tensed and flinched. He wouldn’t have known the way every horrible memory flooded his reflection’s mind, wouldn’t know the torturous regret that flickered and swam endlessly in his head.

  Flames sprouted around the Rusty-eyed man as he shouted. “I can’t go back- not ever again!!!” Wilbur screamed. “You just don’t fucking get it, do you?!” He laced his hands into his hair. “You weren’t there, oh you weren’t there!”

  Ghostbur stepped back, watching his mirror pace. “B-but they need-”

  Wilbur fumed. “THEY DON’T NEED SHIT FROM ME!!” He pounded his fist against the stone wall- Since when were they underground? The walls were covered in writing and there was a button- oh… “I took everything from them, Ghostbur. Do you not think that maybe this might hurt more than it heals?! You fucking moron!!” He laughed his words and it send chills shivering down Ghostbur’s spine.

  “I-I know the risks, but if you just-”

  “If I just what, Ghostbur?!” Wilbur shouted, though his eyes looked so pained and defeated, his body seemed to ache from the weight of memories. He seemed to be holding himself together with sewing thread spread thin as his voice wavered and small tears housed themselves in the corners of his eyes. “I hurt them!!! What the fuck don’t you understand about that?!” Hands curled around his arms as he closed into himself, falling against the wall in despair. “I dragged them through shit and hell on earth, I pulled them into things I should have fought, made them fight wars because I was bored…” 

  He shot off the wall and he spun, a smile concocted of pain and regret and twisted grief splattered across his face- it wasn’t whole, he wasn’t whole- spreading his arms wide. “AND EVEN IN MY FUCKING DEATH!! Even in my death I continue to bring them nothing but pain and loss.” The fake smile had fallen from his face as he turned his head to Ghostbur. “I don’t deserve to leave this hell. This cage is my fucking home now and the torture I live in is my birthright.”

  “Wilbur, you don’t have to- You can come back with me…” Ghostbur offered. Wilbur scared him, but he looked so hurt...he looked so broken and so tired and sad, like he’d finally shattered and felt his grief after years and years of ignoring it. Like the part of him from before- the manic and mad part of him, bent on destruction and bloodlust- had dissipated, leaving a smoking, burning, ever suffering parallel that lived with the scorching regret of choices that were no longer his own.

  Wilbur stared at the wall, the wooden button in the center plucked from the memory he was forced to relive most. “...No.”

  Ghostbur’s heart stuttered. “N-no? But-”

  Wilbur turned, rusty eyes full of guilt, regret, pain, and still yet a smile of melancholic hope graced his face- tears streaming and framing the scene. “They don’t deserve another me- they need you, far more than they have ever needed me.” 

  Ghostbur stumbled, ruble under his feet making his movement feel like quicksand and tar. “ W-wait- no, Wil, Wilbur- Wilbur hold- Wait, no, you don’t understand, no they need-”

  Schlatt was suddenly beside him and Ghostbur’s eyes shot to the ram-horned man. Wait- since when did he remember Schlatt?

  “Give ‘em a message for me, yeah, Schlatt? Tell them to stop trying.” Wilbur asked somberly.

  “Wait- You can’t just- Wilbur wait!!” Ghostbur pleaded, his legs felt like tar as black tendrils held him away, and he fell over trying to reach his past.

  Wilbur glanced sadly at his ghost. “Time to go home, now.”

  Ghostbur shrieked. “NO!!!”

  Wilbur pressed the button.

~~*~~

  Ghostbur woke up with a gasp. What the hell had happened? “H-hello?” He glanced down at his hands. His hands… “DAMMIT!!” The ritual must have failed again. He felt a cool wetness on his face as a breeze blew by. He was crying…

  Why?

  Phil and the others filled him in on how Schlatt had spoken through his body instead. “Okay...Who’s Schlatt?” Ghostbur felt like he should know that name, but he didn’t...Even when they told him he drew nothing but blanks.

  When they asked what happened to Ghostbur that time, the misty, blank-eyed boy couldn’t recall much of anything- just like the last time. But he did know that there was only one figure this time.

  And that night, when he slept, he had nightmares and conversations with Wilbur, trying endlessly to bring him back, to tell him that his family needed them.

  And in the morning, memory fuzzy, he always wondered why he was crying.

[honeypirate]

Denki x reader pro hero au

Warning - angst!, talks about smoking weed just barely, reader gets bit by a villain and gets very badly poisoned that as it eats through their body takes them on fever dreams. Denki beats the villain before he finds reader I just didn’t know how to write it lolol

The stars danced in the sky, floating around like they were little fairy sprites dancing and spreading their magic across the world. The moon was bright, lighting up the few clouds around her in the sky, you could have sworn the clouds were neon colors, reflecting like the northern lights but that was impossible.. you blamed the villains quirk, a poison that was currently flooding your body through the bite wound to your thigh.

The thought of magic had your thoughts running off towards the way Denki’s eyes would shine when he would see you, little electric sparks running through the tips of his hair in excitement before he would sweep you up into a hug. If anyone was magic in this world it was him, you should have told him that.

The yellow electricity sparking through the air went well with the glowing hallucinations in the sky and until your eyes found his face you thought it was part of the vision.

His eyes are worried, his lips moving but you hear nothing, just the sounds of cicadas in the trees which was impossible since you were in the inner city. You find the energy to reach for him and he takes your hand quickly, you think you hear him say your name but you aren’t quite sure with the little fairy sprites that start to fall from his lips.

Your thoughts are hard to control, it’s hard to focus when the poison slowly takes over all of your senses. You’re dragged from one scenario to the next, remembering and watching different events in your life play out again like a movie. You weren’t sure if you were alive or dead, if you were awake or asleep, and where was Denki?

It all feels so real, if it wasnt for the pressure against your palm of him holding your hand that grounded you as the visions took over.

Youre 7 and your quirk has manifested, a strong combination of your parents quirks, flight from your mother and strong ghost like tentacles from your father that you could pull from your body like extra limbs. Your parents found you hanging upside down in your room with a tentacle holding a different toy as you giggled.

The world was always magical to you, you felt like you never could get enough of it, always fascinated by every tree and rock, it was so beautiful to you. Everything was a gift and the world had so much to offer, every time you left the house you found more reasons to believe in magic. A butterfly landing on your head, a cat that hates everyone but loves to rub against your legs, singing with the wind and having it wrap around you like it was a friend. All of these amazing things that most would look over made your world so much more magical.

The colors of your vision change and turn into the entrance exam for UA, the first day you met Kaminari. He had watched as your back was to the fight, your eyes watching the clouds as you smiled, using your tentacles to fight for you as you floated fifty feet above ground. You were so dazling that Kaminari was almost toast but your tentacle saved him and when he looked back up to you, your eyes were on him and you were smiling so bright he had to know you.

The vision changed to Kaminari stuttering through his words trying to talk to you and thank you for your help, he was so adorable you couldn’t help but hug him with a laugh “of course we should be friends!” you had said and he felt his brain go liquidy.

You’re 22 on your apartment balcony, smoking a joint he brought over after a hard day. You both needed it. That was the first time you held his hand, the first time you cuddled on your couch both needing the comfort.

This is when the colors start to make little sense to you. They swirl into darker muted versions of northern lights and then you’re sitting at a table in a living room that you don’t recognize but feel like you know it. A man is sitting across from you and smiling so softly your heart melts. Denki? It feels like him but it doesn’t look like him.

Another man smiling at you except now you’re on a walk beside a river you’ve never seen before, the setting sun coloring the sky with the colors of your vision as the man takes your hand. He’s dressed in clothes you’ve only ever seen in history movies and he’s cupping your cheek and telling you how much he loves you. You know this is Denki too.

Your mind feels like its spinning as the world flashes with bright colors and lights, in the real world Kaminari is screaming for someone, anyone to help! To get the paramedics to you! Anyone with a healing quirk! His hands cupped your cheeks and saw your usually (color) eyes swirling with sparkles of blue yellow and red, he was losing it. His best friend was taken down in the battle and he wasnt there to protect them how can he be called a pro hero when he cant do anything to save you.

The amount of visions you have of different versions of you and Denki seem never ending until it goes back to the one you know. Flour raining down over you both when he added it to the stand mixer as it went full speed and you remember at the time thinking how cute he looked a little messy.

Oh yes, the world was magic. Your world has always been filled with magic and you didn't doubt that it always would be. Oh what a world you were lucky to live in, oh what a man you were lucky to love, a man who’s memories are starting to fade from your mind. Breathing started to become a chore as the colors stopped their swirling, landing on a soft pale yellow and staying there as you walk forward through the vision, jogging, running, sprinting, you had to get back to him. Who was he? The man with the blond hair and kind eyes? Why did you need to reach him again? Everything was fading as the pale yellow seemed to sink into you and take you over, why were you so worried again? You closed your eyes and sighed, letting yourself disolve into the warmth of colors.

“Please” your eyes fluttered open in the vision to darkness as the soft word echoes around in your head, who was speaking? “please y/n” the voice cracks and you feel warm wetness land on your hand, the one you can feel again, a weight and warmth to it as the voice holds it. “y/n stay with me” it calls out and your eyes flutter open to the real world, the world that was your own. “Den?” you ask and a sob falls from his lips “y/n” he says and you reach up to cup his cheek, brushing away his tears “i dont feel so good Den, i think that guy bit me” your voice was soft, head still swimming “it’s going to be okay” he says “its going to be okay, i can see help coming they’re just having a hard time with the destruction. Stay with me okay? You have to”

Your arm starts to shake but before it can fall hes holding your hand to his cheek “Den, this world is full of magic” your voice cracks and your breathing is starting to hurt “dont ever forget about the magic. Promise me” he furrows his brows and a sob chokes through “dont-” he starts but your eyes were so dim he couldn't help but crying out an “i promise”

“My world Den, it was magic. But it was never as bright until i found you” tears flow from your eyes into your hairline filled with the colorful remanence of the poison “my sparky boy” you whisper and a smile barely tugs the corner of your lips as the poison mixes with your memories, muddling what you really wanted to say but you were unable to stop the worlds as the fell from your lips “we will always find each other, we have loved each other in lives before and lives to come, you are mine and i am yours” your eyes flutter closed as they begin to roll up in your head, he cries for you to hang on the sounds of help just down one more block, your eyes flutter open and he can tell how hard youre fighting to be here for as long as possible as you squeeze his hand as tight as possible “Denki, I love you” your hand relaxes and as your eyes close and your hands go limp in his, he feels the magic drain from his world.

[storiesbyl1ck]

The Forest

Before you read the beginning of this Story, I would like to say a few words. This book, was started 3 years ago from a short story competition between some of my friends. The Story was short but I fell in love with the idea of the story. It has been my pride and joy over the past few years, as I have added chapters, rewritten many pages over and over until I liked it. To do this day I have not finished the book. I hate endings, also I am very bad at sticking to one project and with my constant push for a new story this one fell behind the stove. I would like to hear your honest opinion on this first chapter and maybe I will finish it, because god do I love this book. (If I finish it, the rest will be publish on amazon or somewhere) Thank you for reading this short passage, if you did. 

(if there are any errors, I am sorry) 

Chapter 1: Beginning

She wasn’t going to listen to her parents. Her mindless fun in the rain muffled the distressed screams of her father to come back inside. She hopped between the puddles that collected throughout the grass in their yard. As her feet impacted the water tension, she imitated a landing sound of something much larger than her, ‘boom’. She saw herself as a giant. Her imagination took over her mindful thoughts, often leaving her in between the boundary of real life and her mind. It was what her dad called a terrible blessing. She did not want to wear a raincoat, to her, there was no reason to play in the rain if she wasn’t going to get wet. She wanted to feel the water. She stopped and held her arms out on both sides. Her head facing the sky, letting the rainfall swallow her. Her dad gave up trying to get her to come back in. He closed the front door with agitation.

“She is going to catch a cold!” His voice was raised, the sound of irritation lingered in his words. Her mom was in the kitchen stirring up a warm stew, for the cold day. She let out a small chuckle.

“She’ll be fine, I mean look at how much fun she’s having!” He looked through the window to see his daughter laughing and screaming. His anger fell from his face to reveal a small smirk. 

“Well she has to come in soon, it is getting late!” He kissed his wife and began to help her cut carrots for the stew.

She ran through the backyard, back and forth between the patches of dampening grass. It made her feel like she was flying. Especially when she looked up toward the sky. The rain was getting heavier, the intense fall of water had made sight almost a useless sense. But she continued to blindly run around. Laughing and giggling. 

‘Darling... come in now!’ the voice cut through the booming rainfall. She stopped frolicking to hear the off-tone voice of her mother. ‘This way Love!’ She followed the powerful words through the rain. It now sounded like the words were coming from everywhere, no origin of the voice. She looked around through the wall of water that surrounded her. Spinning in circles trying to find her mother. 

‘We are here darling!’ She stopped spinning with her heel, digging it into the mud. Her eyes stared down a passage through the water, it had split open. A clear sight of an opening into the forest. The ground through this split was dry, like it had never been raining.

‘Come on darling I won’t ask again!’ The voice of her mother was coming from inside the entwined trees. Her curiosity spiked, outweighing the foreboding feeling found in the pit of her stomach. She slowly walked down the path through the rain. Holding her hands together, close to her mouth. The rain began to undo the path she had already walked on, closing in behind her with every step. She paused when her feet had touched a crisp press of dead leaves. ‘Come into the trees darling!’ She stood upon the woods at the end of her yard, the towering tree seemed to almost bend over her head. Her attention was taken back from the trees to the voice. 

‘Come on Darling!!!’ Her feet seemed to move on their own as she pushed forward into the ominous forest. A thick fog began to roll in from all directions moving like waves at a beach. It was like smoke, it had an indescribable smell, a smell of horrific flavors. Her curiosity was very quickly replaced with a powerful fear of her surroundings. Her soul-shaking in her own skin. She spun around ready to run back, but it all looked the same now. Her house was no longer in view. She was surrounded by a maze of leaves and branches. This was now a game. 

‘We are the only ones who love you…’ Tears fell from her cheeks landing on the forest floor.

‘Don’t cry, you are safe with us…’ 

“Where is she, it’s almost 9!” Her father was looking out every window of the house, trying to spot his daughter. 

“She is probably playing in the woods honey don’t worry.” The mom finished setting the table for dinner. “If you want, I can go look for her?” “You are getting in this huge mess and you have work tomorrow you need your sleep.” The exhaustion in his eyes showed itself very clearly. But the worried father showed, even more, it was just that look. Her mom smiled with open arms, ready to give a hug of comfort. Her arms wrapped around him as he sighed.

“She never listens…”

“You know her, she always lost in her own head.” She pushed away to see his face and gave him a gleaming smile. “Kind of like you.” She painted a kiss with her lips onto his cheek. “I’ll go find her, you go to sleep.” She got her raincoat and boots as he walked upstairs and climbed into bed. He looked out the window of their bedroom and saw his wife running into the forest with a flood lamp. As she neared the forest the only thing that gave off her location was the light. The light then disappeared into the thick brush and rain. But his mind was in and out of consciousness and his worried feelings drifted above his head. He walked to the comforting sheets and fell asleep within seconds, not hearing the screaming that echoed throughout the rain. 

‘They love us more….’

The voice rang in his head, awakening him in a sweat. His body was twitching from his pounding heart. He couldn’t catch his breath fast enough to scream, He jolted his head to where his wife usually laid. It was empty. He hopped out of bed and ran down the hall to his daughter's room. Dark, the bed was still neatly made the way she left if the morning before. His terrorized self slipped down the stairs, he swung the front door open and stood at the edge of his porch “EVAAAA...ELLIE!” He cupped his hands around his mouth trying to have his word carrying farther through the rain. It had calmed down, but still muffled his cries. After trying once more he ran into the rain and tried again,

“EVA…...ELLIE!” Nothing but the sound of the trees blowing in the wind. He searched the yard for anything that may resemble his family. The Flood lamp shined through the storm, bouncing off the hazed air. His feet could not move faster to the light. A relief pushed him to run faster towards the only hope of his wife and daughter being back in his arms. As he neared the lamp his composure slipped away with the raindrops. The lamp lay on the edge of his yard. The lamp teased the darkness with his collapsing mentality as it began to flicker in and out. Within moments he was engulfed in the midnight atmosphere. Identical to his overwhelming flush of tormenting grief. He collapsed to the wet grass underneath his feet - resting on his knees, his head fell below his shoulders. His attention began to grow inward, towards the emotional desolation and less on the physical world that was surrounding him with torment. 

“They belong to us…”

Voices began to ripple in his thoughts. Till one stood out from the rest:

“DADDY!”

He stood up with determination, the distressed voice drove him into the dark wooded lands, blind. He followed the echoes of his daughter's pleads.

“DADDY PLEASE HELP ME!”

He held his hands out ahead of his steps. He found himself in an opening, a small circular field, surrounded by sturdy oak and evergreens. A dark stump centered in the middle of the plain. A red glow resonated from the top of the remains of a once-great tree. A hushed mumbling surrounded the stub, an incoherent chant. It sounded like it was repeating the same syllables but it was not any language he had heard. His curiosity grew beyond the stump, where a motionless shadow stood. 

“Ellie!?” He pierced his throat with his dry voice, trying to yell over the raindrops. The shadow moved slightly, its head turned to face Forrus. Nothing was describable but its eyes. Headlights filled with anger, the crimson color of its oval eyes impaled his mind. A wave of panic tossed him to the ground. A loud screech came from the creature before it jumped over the treeline. 

“What the fuck…” He laid on his back, his head processing the event.

“Wake up, WAKE UP FORRUS!” he spun around and began hitting his head on the ground. 

“Daddy?” He turned to see his daughter standing behind him.

“Oh my god, Eva… I thought I lost you.” Forrus spoke between quick breathes and tears. 

“You did Daddy…Help me...” Forrus stared at Eva as she slowly faded into the rain. He grabbed for her, but she was gone. 

...

“I TOLD YOU… I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!” “ALL I KNOW IS THEY ARE OUT THERE LOST, NOW ARE YOUR MEN GOING TO DO THERE JOB AND FIND MY FAMILY!!!” Forrus wanted to believe it was a simple nightmare, but his love, his daughter were still gone. 

 “Sir, we just need to know why you were in the forest. With no sighting of your wife or daughter, the only person on the scene was you.”

“Who...Called you guys?” Forrus’s head was leaning onto his left shoulder. As his neck was incapable of holding all the images in his now broken mind. The two officers looked to each other then back to Forrus. 

“Uh… you did sir.” Forrus looked up to them, confused. “Sir we are not saying you had anything to do with their disappearance, but…” The officer cleared her throat, “That’s what it kind of looks like.”

(Forrus was taken to court for the disappearance of Eva and Ellie, but with lack of evidence He was proven to be guilty and set free. But the image of Forrus being a murderer stuck to everyone. He was outcasted by neighbors and became isolated from the world outside the woods.)

[imaginarypeteel]

Dear Blue: Kurt Wagner x F! Reader

Your mutation: You have f/c hair and can control people when singing

A/n: This is my first one, just something that's stayed in my mind for awhile. Also, it's been a while since I saw X-Men's movies and I haven't been able to read the comics, so I'm sorry that it's kinda OOC. Also, the song lyrics are improvised by me. I also don't remember if the X-Men were known by mutants but here they are. I also apologize for any mistakes with any products.

Word count: 5k

Gender: Fluff

Warnings: Cursing

Jubilee wanted to watch an interview with her favorite artist - Y/n L/n. Appereantly she made songs for mutants. Jubilee had also made them watch it when they had shown little to no care about the said singer.

"So, Y/n, a question that has been lurking in everyone's mind. What do you really think about mutants?" asked the interviewer. Jubilee's breath hitched.

Y/n gave her interviewer a small smile. "Exactly what I've said every other time it's been asked. I think they're misunderstood. Not everyone is the same. When you walk past a human, you don't scream and run, you just walk past them. But for all you know, maybe this human you just walked past is a psychopath who has killed fifteen plus people. But then you walk past a mutant and most of you will scream and run and maybe even call them monsters. But maybe this mutant you just called a monster saved a kitten and risked their life in the process. You don't know who they are as a person when you walk past them."

"Yes, that she is but other people there might not be as open minded," Jean explained her boyfriend's words softly.

After the interviewer had asked some more questions, the show had ended and a break game, Jubilee jumped up. "See? She's awesome! And she protects us!" the girl gushed.

The other mutants exchanged uncertain glances but shrugged and nodded, "I guess?" Jean said uncertainly.

"Yes! I knew you'd like her which is exactly why I got all of us tickets for her concert that is going to be in New York," Jubilee chirped, showing the tickets.

All of their eyes widened and Kurt filled with slight panic. "What the hell? How do you plan on getting us in? No offence but I don't think we can hide Blue boy over here when we go," Scott growled.

Kurt moved a bit uncomfortably.

Jubilee rolled her eyes, "Hello, where you even listening to what Y/n said? She is completely fine with mutants."

In the end, Kurt had went with the coat and hat since he didn't know what the inside of the giant concert house looked like. Surprisingly, the guards let him in.

Jubilee was quiet for a moment but then she smiled brightly. "But what if he teleports inside? Or maybe wears a coat and a hat?"

~~~

Jubilee was giddily waiting for the show to start, different colored glow rings wrapped around different parts of her body. They had seen a few other mutants with visible mutations like a teenage girl with cat eyes and tail and even some fur and a man who looked a bit like a fairy.

"Why did we agree to this again?" Scott groaned, earning a smack from Jean.

All of a sudden, all the lights turned off. Kurt looked around, he had never been to a concert and he thought that maybe the lights had died. "Oh my gosh, it's starting!" Jubilee squealed.

"Vhat do you mean, zhe li-" Kurt started but cut off as a popping sound came and most of the lights pointed to a girl in the middle of the huge stage with colorful and sparkly clothes. Other lights were running along the stage and some going through the crowd.

The catchy and loud music started and Kurt swore his heart started beating to every single beat. It was bizzare but he swore that's how it was.

"Hello New York! How are you this fine night?" the girl - Y/n - asked loudly into the microphone. There was chorus of screams of 'good' that made Kurt's ears ring. "Good 'cause I'm doing awesome too now that I'm with you," the star replied with a huge smile in her voice. "Now what do you say we get this party started?" Y/n asked. Once again, a chorus of screams 'yes' and Kurt cringed at it again.

"I fear what you think of me once you realize that I'm not like you."

"Will you think of me as a monster or not, as a monster or not?"

Were the first lyrics. Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought.

Kurt felt these lyricys hit him a bit close to heart.

"But I hope you won't because I'm not. I'm just scared. Just really really scared."

The concert had gone horribly wrong. Halfway through and mutant hunters had opened fire. Screams had filled the humongous room and people were trampling over each other.

Kurt had found himself liking the concert much much more than he thought he would. Like that much more that he was dancing. Same with the others, Jubilee and Jean already singing the lyrics off key with Y/n and the crowd.

~~~~

Thankfully Kurt had teleported them out of the place, they were now outside and were about to run towards the X-Jet when hunters jumped in front of them, guns pointed at them. They debated if they should fight or just let Kurt teleport them away when:

"Don't hurt, just leave, just leave, just leave. No one hurt, no one hurt, no one hurt. Just leave."

The hunters froze before lowering their weapons and simply walking away. The X-Men turned their heads towards the source of the voice when a familiar f/c haired popstar jumped out of the shadows, still all colorful and glittery. "Okay! This won't last for long! Let's go!" she rushed them, her e/c eyes quickly snapping between the X-Men and the hunters. Said mutants were a bit... stunned. "Well?!" the popstar cried out desperately.

"Uhm, Kurt, would you teleport us to the X-Jet?" Jean mumbled. They all grabbed onto the blue mutant when Y/n exclaimed, "Waaait! Can I come with you? My driver took off when this started and my place is... not close enough for me to get away from the hunters on foot."

The friends exchanged looks but nodded. Y/n sighed with relief before jumping onto Kurt's arm, making the said boy flush violet.

With a bamf, they were on the X-Jet, Y/n still tightly clinging onto the teleporter's arm. "Woah! That's so cool!" she chirped with excitement, looking around, unknowingly hooking her arm around the German mutant's elbow, making him even more violet.

"O. M. G! Y/n L/n is a mutant! And she's here! On our X-Jet!!!" Jubilee chirped, earning the popstar's attention a shy smile forming on her face.

"I guess I am... Wait... X-Jet? Does that mean..." The f/c haired girl trailed off before letting out a gasp. She finally let go of Kurt to gather her hands around her mouth as she squealed some muffled words into it. "You're the X-Men, aren't you?"

They exchanged looks and nodded.

"Wow! I can't believe this is happening!" Y/n bounced a 360°. She then tucked a stray piece of her dyed hair behind her ear shyly. "Oh my gosh, I have dreamed  for this day. I'm Y/n... You already knew that, 'cause you were at my concert." She stayed quiet for a bit before her e/c colored eyes widened. "The X-Men were at my concert!" she exclaimed. "Holy-"

Two minutes into the flight of Jubilee asking her favorite star all sorts of questions, Y/n opened her mouth to request something. "So, can we stop by my place? I'm not sure if I want to get any more glitter over this thing."

"Not to be rude but we should get going," Ororo interfered.

The popstar blushed like a boiled lobster and nodded while smiling shyly at the floor. She hesitantly sat on a seat that no one took which just so happened to be beside the Nightcrawler.

Ororo, Jean and Scott had a silent conversation between themselves before Jean asked: "Depends, where's your Place?" Y/n grinned before giving her address, it was a bit off route for their path back to the X-Mansion but not too far, so they decided to go there.

~~~

Kurt wasn't sure what he was expecting. A rotten cottage in the middle of the woods? Not Really. An apartment in the city? Maybe. A private nice house? Yes. But not a freaking mansion that challenged the place they lived at.

"You live here alone?!" Peter gasped making the star chuckle.

"No, my parents, a few mutants who are taking cover there and my pig, Cookie also lives there."

Jean rose a brow, "You have a pig?"

Jubilee squealed in her seat, "O. M. G! Yes! Cookie is the cutest!!!"

About fifteen minutes later, a familiar figure was hopping towards them through the woods, clutching three bags. She also had different clothes and a small figure was running after her.

They decided to land hundred feet away from her gates. Y/n started to head off the X-Jet but then she stopped. "By the way what are your names? Only Jubilee told me hers," she chuckled. They all told her their names, Kurt earning a warm smile from the e/c orbed mutant before she bounced off towards her own mansion. She had decided to join the school to focus a bit on her abilities.

"So, Y/n," Ororo started, earning the giddy mutant's immediate attention. "Can you explain your mutation a bit better to us?" the white-haired woman asked.

Y/n smiled awkwardly, "Well I uh, I can control people's minds with what I sing. But it's a limited amount of people and after like um, 3 minutes it wears off and usually they remember that i controlled them. So uh yeah, almost every hunter in New York should know by now that I'm a mutant. If not everyone that is," she mumbled sadly. "Oh! And my hair colour, it's not dyed, it actually is that colour."

~~~

"Oh my gosh that's Cookie!" Jubilee exclaimed, her eyes shining brighter than ever.

"You are not taking that pig with you," Scott grunted as soon as Y/n stepped inside.

Her and Jubilee let out devastated gasps. "What?!" they exclaimed.

Cookie trotted between the seats, sniffing them like a bloodhound, occasionally letting out oinks. He then stopped beside Kurt as he sniffed his spaded tail, his snout and breath tickled it which made Kurt pull his tail back, up to his lap. Cookie didn't seem to like it, because the next moment, the small pig was on the blue mutant's lap.

~~~

"Awww!" Y/n was now leaning against Kurt's chair, making him turn from blue to violet once again. "Look! He already accepted Kurt, why not take him?" the singer argued with Scott.

"He's going to be roasted for dinner if you take him there, pets are not allowed," Cyclops huffed.

"Then they'll have to face me," the f/c haired girl said darkly, dumping her bags in the back, walking over to her previous seat and plopping down there.

"And me! And you know I don't control my powers," Jubilee said. The others made uncomfortable faces but let it go.

"Cookie, did you replace me with Kurt so quickly?" Y/n cried as they were walking towards Professor X's office. It was late... or early. However you would like to take 4am.

The singer waited for a response which was just Cookie running an inch away from the blue boy's strange feet. "I don't blame you, he's cute," Y/n shrugged. Kurt's amber eyes grew to the size of watermelons at the compliment. Cute? No one has ever called me cute. And for the uncountable number of time, she had made him blush once again.

~~~***~~~

Your pig came to you oinking, begging for food. You grabbed another white bread, turning around and connecting your eyes with your small pink friend. "Sit," you had chirped, two seconds after, the dots connected in his little brain and he sat down. You bent down and gave him the bread. Immediately, he started to chew on it loudly. You were used to the noise of his chewing but obviously, some weren't. Half of the people cringed at the sound while others awwed.

When you had entered the dining room in the morning, quite many of the students had choked on their drinks or foods or had spurted it out. "Is that Y/n really walking around the X-Mansion or am I still dreaming?" someone choked, earning a pat on the back from you.

"Are you okay?" you asked with concern.

"yes," they squeaked, earning a smile from you before you trotted to an empty space, once again beside Kurt.

Cookie soon came running down the stairs. Surprisingly, Professor X had let him stay after you had plead and howled on why you need him here. "Is that Cookie?!" a girl gasped, you hummed as confirmation as you rubbed some jam onto your white bread.

After he had eaten the bread and you had completely ignored him on giving another, he had decided to try and swoon Kurt. "Damn, he really likes you. Can't say he is the only one," you smiled, still eating your breakfast. Kurt didn't know how to take that statement. Did you like him as someone you tolerated or something more? No, the latter was nonsense, you had been in the X-Mansion for less than twenty-four hours, plus he looked strange and you hadn't even had a full conversation with him. You probably just meant it as a joke because of how keen on him Cookie was already. You were probably going to ignore him soon anyway.

~~~

A month had passed and anyone saying you were ignoring him would be the biggest liar in Earth's history. After the first week, you were clinging onto him like a koala baby to its mother. It made him shy while you were anything but. You asked him all sorts of strange questions. For example: "If you could be any planet in our solar system, who would you be?" and "Birch or maple tree?"

They had him very confused but he answered them anyway, after sometime, he was comfortable with you though and he thought that maybe that was the point of the strange questions. Something you also did was flirt with him shamelessly from time to time. You just got into that mood sometimes and at those times, you were usually hooked to his elbow with your own and occasionally leaning your head against his arm or shoulder. Now that was what made him shy, awkward and nervous.

~~~

"Kurt," you purred at him, throwing your arms around his shoulders as you headed towards the danger room. Professor X had seen potential in you and now you were training to become an X-Man. You had chosen on the first day to use Siren as your alias.

That fact had awakened Kurt's insecurities that had basically disappeared. You were a worldwide known singer who humans actually liked and you had probably dated lots of normal looking guys and maybe even girls. While he looked anything but normal, elf ears, amber eyes, serious lack of fingers and toes, a tail, fangs and most importantly blue skin. Your only visible mutation was your f/c hair and that was easily covered by two words: hair dye.

You were in your flirt mood again, Kurt gulped at that, "Uhm, hi Y/n."

You squealed at his reply and squeezed him tightly, "Aaah, you're so cute!" Your f/c haired self gushed as you leaned your head on his bicep, Still Walking so you made the two of you sway from side to side slightly. Kurt's tail nervously twitched. He knew a small crush for you had bloomed in him. He would've thought that maybe you liked him too but you often would be flirty with the other boys and sometimes with even Ororo and Jubilee.

Eventually you sighed before squeezing him tightly. "I would wish that you would know how amazing you really are," you said, your voice muffled since your face was buried into his side. He smiled at your words. "Zankz, Y/n."

"Hey Kurtie, if you could wish for one thing from a genie, what would it be?" You asked with interest.

Kurt bitterly replied, "That I could look normal."

His response made you jerk away from him, eyes wide. "What?! Don't you know how amazing you look?" The male mutant shrugged at that, you stared at him for ten seconds, trying to figure out if he was lying or not.

~~~

When Christmas Month rolled around, Kurt became a bit suspicious. You had suddenly started to offer to give him foot, neck and arm massages. You also asked more basic questions "what's your favorite color?" for example.

~~~~~

"And this one's for Kurt," Jean said, passing the gift to the blue mutant. Kurt took the box. It was wrapped in a pale blue paper, Kurt Wagner and Nightcrawler written endlessly in delecate silver handwriting. It was decorated with an indigo bow. By the way your eyes shined brighter and you bounced a little, he guessed it was from you. If you had put so much work into the outside, then was the gift equally as amazing or were you trying to make up for a horrible gift? There was a snow white box inside and this time written with black 'For Kurt'.

"Awwww! Thanks Kurt!" you squealed, squeezing the book he got you tightly.

The male's amber eyes widened at that. "H-How'd you know zat it'z from me?" he asked nervously.

You giggled, "Well honey, your handwriting." Kurt chuckled while rubbing the back of his neck.

He carefully opened the box and his heart softened as he saw the inside. A heart shaped gingerbread stared back at him, looking fancy with the pink and white icing. 'Kurt' was written in the middle of the heart. He put the gingerbread on his knee - he was sitting with his legs criss-crossed. Cookie came to sniff the gingerbread but Kurt shooed him away with his tail. In the gift box was a handmade knitted scarf, pair of wooly socks, gloves and even a hat. All in his two favorite colors. Kurt Wagner was embroidered into all of them delicately.

Nightcrawler bit his cheek with his fangs to stop himself from crying out of happiness. He rose his head and mouthed 'thank you' with a smile, his blue face full of graditude. You beamed at that, e/c eyes bright.

~~~

Kurt bent down, hands stretched out to take Scott's gift and then teleport back to his own room. The mutant was about to come back to a standing position when a force crashed into him, sending him towards the floor. Startled, Kurt teleported to the roof. He immediately heard feminine laughing. And jumped away while flipping also to see who had attacked him.

You were wiping a tear from your eye, quietly mumbling, "Oh my God." You then snorted before letting out another guffaw. Kurt playfully glared at you.

"Okay, I'm done," you said but snorted at the end. This time didn't laugh anymore though. "So, I forgot to put one of your gifts under the tree. It's in my room," you grinned. Kurt's amber eyes widened. You had made him another gift? But the one before was more than enough? With guilt, the blue mutant's shoulders fell. He had only gotten you book. "You zhouldn't have, Vögelchen. I only gotz you a book."

You frowned at his sad face. Your s/c hands flew to the mutant's face and made sure he was looking at you. "Hey, hey! Come on now. I had been searching for that book for ages with no avail. Now, get us to my room so I can give you the other gift," you ordered sternly, still holding onto his scarred cheeks. Kurt flicked his tail but bamfed to your room.

The lights were off but since your roommate was a fortune teller who could tell the future by looking into water, there was an exceptional aquarium in your room that's light brightened up most of the room.

Cookie made happy oinks as he saw Kurt and immediately flew off the bed, right onto the Nightcrawler's feet. "You could say the second gift is from Cookie?" you giggled, making two steps towards the big white box on your bed, pushing the crimson and white Christmas wrapping under your roommate's bed.

Kurt pet Cookie while you headed back to the boys, clutching the gift. Once again 'For Kurt' was written on the box. Kurt took the box and sat on your bed, the present in his lap. Carefully, he took the cover off, his eyes widening at the inside. Four pairs of designer footwear. Brown leather winter boots, white, black and red nikes, red and black flip-flops and finally, black rainboots. When he inspected them, he realized that all of them had 'Kurt Wagner' written on the inside.

While shaking slightly, the blue mutant wrapped his arms around you, "Zank you, Vögelchen," he whispered. You just squeezed him tight as a response. The moment was broken by Cookie scratching Kurt's feet, asking to have a hug too. You both giggled and Nightcrawler picked the pig up, giving him a gentle hug. He earned a snout on his cheek and affectionate licks on his chin.

"If you still want to, I think I know how you can make it up," you said slowly. Kurt gave you an expectant look, still rubbing the pink animal who kept giving him kisses.

~~~

"Oh....my....GOD!" you squealed which made Kurt open his eyes. You had asked for him to take you to Finland, so you could see what a real Christmas was like. He hadn't expected it to work. Basically teleporting to the other side of the world sounded impossible but he had done it apparently. It should be an early morning in Finland and it did appear like it was.

You placed the wiggling pig down and immediately, Cookie went to inspect the snow with his snout. A red Christmas sweater was wrapped around his small body.

Since Kurt was absolutely drained of energy - given the fact that he had just teleported the two of you across to world to another continent - you decided to visit a stall and bring the two of you some tea while he rested on a bench, Cookie sniffing circles around him.

After he was up and well again, the two of you had a snowball fight and visited different stalls. Interacting with the sellers was awkward since your Finnish was very very bad and they knew maximum of three words in English. But besides that, you two had fun.

You even saw other... SOME mutant couples hanging about in the very early hours of the morning. There was a girl with the same toned skin as Kurt and crazily long lighter shade of blue hair, she was holding hands with a man who's snake like tongue popped out from time to time. There was also a normal looking woman who's elbow was locked with the elbow of a man who was glowing. Literally. There were three more couples who did not seem normal but you had focused more on your tailed companion.

~~~~~~

When you returned, you nearly gave your roommate a heart attack. She had been making out with her boyfriend Caleb but when she noticed you two awkwardly shuffling, "Oh my fucking God! What the hell Y/n?!" Jemila screamed, ignoring the distasteful twist on Kurt's face at her choice of words. Your Nigerian roommate glowered at you before apologizing to her ginger boyfriend who just nodded awkwardly. He was a shy boy unlike Jemila and at the moment, the color of his face would've matched his hair if it were a little pinker.

"Sooo..." you trailed but were cut off by clap, the lights went out. When they turned back on, Caleb was nowhere to be found. "Oh come on! It took me ages to convince him to come here," Jemila whined, her dark kinky hair pushing to the front of her face as she rolled her head against the walls.

"I better get going too," Kurt yawned. Yes, he was tired but also very uncomfortable with the situation.

When he bamfed away, you laughed nervously as your dark-skinned roommate glared at you.

~~~~~~

Valentine's Day rolled around and you were walking to History class with Jemila. "I swear you better ask him out today because I am tired of seeing you two being all cutesy and cuddly everytime I feed my babies," the girl hissed at you. Oh man, everytime she started to feed her neon tetras and rainbow fish, she started moaning about seeing Kurt and you being a disgustingly cute couple, cuddling on a couch, both looking a bit older.

Even though the visions your roommate got were comforting, you still hesitated on asking the blue boy out. What if he didn't like you right now? Yes, he had taken you to the other side of the world on Christmas but that was because he felt bad for simply getting you a book. Which you loved and had read through three times by now.

~~~

"Yeah, yeah, you know very well what I have planned for today," you grumbled.

"I do and you better go through with it."

Kurt sat down beside his friends. He greeted them, all of them returned the gesture except for Jean and Scott who were being extra affectionate since it was... Well... Valentine's Day. Kurt's amber eyes ran over the cafeteria to see if you were hanging out with anyone. He was both relived and distressed about you not being there. Relieved since he didn't see you with anyone and distressed because maybe you were on a date or something with someone.

The blue-skinned boy shook his head and started eating his salad. He was almost done when there were claps heard and the cafeteria turned dark. There were confused and scared mumbles of other students. But given his multi mutations, Kurt was able to see you scrambling up on the table Jemila and her boyfriend were occupying. You had a guitar in your hands and a mini skirt wrapped around your lower body perfectly which was rare since you usually settled for pants.

Jemila and Caleb ran off before claps were heard again, letting the lights return into the cafeteria. The students mumbled among each other with confusion before noticing you standing there in a royal blue mini skirt and a white dress shirt with blue butterfly print.

"Thank you for your attention and I hope you'll keep quiet now. Hi, yes! I am going to serenade to my hopefully Valentine once I'll finish the song," you said and Kurt's brain started working fast, wondering who you were going to sing to.

"Dear blue, this song I've made for you.

When you found me I was lost, dark and scared and filled with dust.

The real me had gone to hiding,

feared what people might think of me once they will know who I am.

I put on a brave face, tried to save the ones I could without showing who I am.

But when my concert was crashed by the ones I feared the most,

I saw them try to hurt you and I couldn't just stand by.

So I revealed my biggest secret to the humankind.

It closed my door as a star but opened the door of joy and happiness.

The door which you showed me.

Dear blue, this song I've made for you.

You were one of the first ones, who knew who I was behind the mask I put on.

With you I've gotten better.

I don't fear as much as I once.

I feel free and I feel beautiful.

I feel accepted and I feel wonderful.

And so should you.

I know you sometimes feel bad because of who you are and so do I but we shouldn't.

I don't care what people think anymore because...

Dear blue, this song I've made for you.

I've kept these feelings hidden for as long as I've known you.

No it wasn't love at first sight.

But I did feel fascinated by you.

So I got to know you better and I fell in love within a month.

I fear it, yes but I will never regret it because it made me who I am.

The girl standing on a cafeteria table singing a serenade with a guitar.

All eyes are on me but I can only see you here.

Dear blue, this song I've made for you.

On Christmas I made you gifts, was so nervous how'd they fit.

They were perfect, I admit.

Fit you better than I thought.

But you took me to the other side of the world that night.

I know you were drained of that endless energy you always have but you still did it.

It was the best gift I've ever gotten and I thank you for that.

Dear blue, please be my Valentine because...

I love you,

Kurt Wagner"

Kurt felt a tear slip down his cheek. He knew you were singing about him the second you said the word 'blue' but hearing those last words really warmed his heart.

You shyly averted your e/c eyes from his amber ones as you climbed down from the table. You leaned the guitar against the long bench and started to make your way over to the blue boy.

All eyes were on you two.

Kurt stood up and bamfed in front of you, few tears still roaming down his scarred cheeks.

You bit the inside of your cheek while still smiling shyly. "So," you rocked on your heels, "what's your answer?" you asked. Kurt smiled warmly.

"Yes and I love you too, Y/n L/n."

The tailed boy quickly wrapped his arms around you and the cafeteria cheered, happy tears steamed from both of your eyes and he pressed a kiss to your temple.

Cookie ran over and started nudging the teleporter's foot with his snout and the two of you laughed as you detached yourselves and the Nightcrawler bent down to pick the pig up. The pig rubbed his snout against the boy's cheek while giving him kisses.

"And I love you too, Cookie."

[mxvladdy]

A Break

This is an on going Hanzo x Reader I’ve been working on. (First chapter is pure smut but the rest- for now- is plot)

 Summery: Balancing a hectic work life, annoying customers, and an elusive boyfriend? Maybe your friends are right. You need a break.

Chapters: 1-2-3-4

One

A shiver runs up your spine as your boyfriend's broad tongue licks at the corner of your mouth, savoring the glaze hiding there. Bitter coffee and sweetened vanilla blooming in his mouth only amplifying the sensation of your lips. You taste divine. He pushes closer wanting nothing to separate you from him; if only for this moment.

“Hanzo-" You murmur into his swollen lips breaking away to breathe into the quiet room. He grunted back. Sharp gaze locking onto your glistening lips, his hands wandering absentmindedly.

“Yes, my love.” Hanzo whispered into your plush lips watching a gentle blush paint your face. His eyes sparkling in the early morning light of your living room.

“I have to go~” You struggle lamely in his steel grip looking up at your kitchen wall, you are running late- again . A recurring theme whenever Hanzo was involved. He sighed respecting your request, loosening his lock around your waist; of course he would let you leave.

Once he was done.

You barely register his impish grin before your position flips. The world spinning as you were pinned beneath him, plush couch cushions absorbing your fall. He was on you again. Teeth nipping your neck, his beard scratching your skin making you giggle. “Surely the shop can open without you? Just this once?” He teases his accent thick and warm. Hanzo fingers the hem of your shirt thoughtfully, biting hard on your clavicle making you mew.

“You said that last time you came over.” You chucking musing his hair lovingly. “My employees need me you know?”

He hums noncommittally unconvinced by the weak excuse. “ I need you.” His lips brush yours again before traveling lower pushing your shirt up to your chin. “Besides they will be thanking me soon enough, no boss for the next few hours. Neko ga hanareru toki …”

Hours?

Your thoughts slip away as he presses a hot open mouth kiss to the exposed lace of your bra. Saliva pooling in his mouth soaking the expensive silk covering you making you whimper. Hanzo moved to your other breast letting cold air pebble your nipple before his fingers pushed the cup of your bra up to finally touch your flushed skin. You can’t help but squirm at his masterful touch, callus fingers pinching and pulling in a perfect mix of pain and pleasure. His tongue following close behind to soothe the burn his fingers created.

“Let me steal you away.” He tempted nipping your earlobe impatient for your response. “Let’s waste the day away together.” The idea had your stomach in knots, you needed a break anyway... You nod eagerly the thought of work miles away. Dragging his face to yours you savor his minty taste and spicy scent, wrapping your legs around his toned waist.

Hanzo navigates your house effortlessly, eyes never wandering from yours. Slipping into your bedroom like a ghost, floorboards silent under your combined weight. Supporting you with one hand he dimmed the lights and shut the door firmly letting the pleasant stillness of the moment engulf you both. Resting your forehead on his you smile fingers tracing his proud nose and brow line. He kissed you sweetly, eyes trailing to look behind you when he parts. Before you could question him you were airborne. His muscular frame blocking your vision of the ceiling as you landed safely on a pile of soft unmade sheets. The cotton still warm from that morning.

Squealing you try to right yourself before steel covered flesh pins you playfully. Large warm hands tug at you pulling at the tangled mess of your clothes. Blouse and pants tossed away in colorful blurs across the small room as he made his way to your delicate lingerie. “Careful!” You laugh at his hasty tugging, teeth skimming your belly. “I just got those.”  

“I’ll buy you more.” Hanzo smirked, flexing his arm in an unneeded show of force ripping the silk from your body. His latest gift ripping like tissue paper. You hiss enjoying the slight sting of the elastic digging in, leaving red marks on your soft thighs and sides before tearing under the strain. His show of strength sends heat straight to your core.

Finally naked you lounge back arms raised curling under your mound of pillows. Your blush deepened under your boyfriend's heated gaze thighs rubbing together subconsciously.

“It's only fair don’t you think?” Your eyes comb over his still clothed form. His black compression shirt and cargo pants rudely shielded him from your lustful gaze. His jacket and boots lay muddied and forgotten on your doorstep. In truth you hadn’t expected him to show up at your doorstep at all, still believing he was halfway across the world on ‘active duty’. His evasiveness made you curious, but the looks he gave you had long since made you stop asking. Not that you minded too much. You had guessed military a long time ago. It would explain a lot.

But opening that door had been like opening an early Christmas present; a slightly out of breath flushed Christmas present. Yet, you couldn’t have been happier.

Kneeling over you he locks your legs underneath his. Muscular thighs twitching as he slowly pulls at his shirt revealing skin inch by inch. Your throat clicks dryly watching him put on a show. It always took your breath away when he did this. White scars and healed burns smattered his chest and stomach were slowly revealed, pulling and playing across the vast canvas. When you first shared a bed you spent half the time finding, kissing, licking, and loving each and every mark you could find till he was a quivering mess. There seems to be a few new ones you needed to become acquainted with.

His dragon tattoo was untouched though. The shadows cast from your window made it look like it was moving along his skin. The dragon's eyes alight with life. It’s pristine blues and yellows seemingly glow around him like an aura playing a trick on the eye. He was beautiful, you tell him regularly, if only to watch color grace his high cheekbones and his eyes widened in disbelief.  You wanted to touch him. To help him remove his loose pants knowing from past experience that that was the only thing keeping you away from him. But that wasn’t part of the play. At least not today. He batted away your meandering hand groaning low as you brush his straining cock hidden behind the heavy fabric shooting a stern glance at you through heavily hooded eyes.

Later. His amber eyes promise. Hanzo shifts to grab your legs and pulls them up. Wrapping your legs around his shoulders and rising to his full height. Stopping only when your shoulders and head were the last things touching the mattress. The rest of you is supported on his folded knees and chest, your own knees hooked around his muscular neck. He pins you again in his iron grasp, beard tickling your inner thigh. You felt a faint smile on your skin. Playful bastard.

His tongue and teeth marked a trail up to the juncture of your thigh. Hanzo groans in delight when his nose brushes at your light patch of curls. He shoots you a radiant grin before placing a scorching open mouth kiss on your heated core tongue cupping and stroking your clit with relish. You choke on a whine, blood rushing to your head making you light headed as Hanzo moans into your heat.

Supporting your weight on his shoulders, his hands wandered freely. One moving back to your breast squeezing and playing with the soft flesh. His other going to the apex of your thigh, thumb coming in contact with your sensitive clit. His touch had you reeling, hands tearing at the sheets. “Soaking already, my heart?” He purrs, slipping a long thick finger into you, curling it slowly inside as if beckoning. “I haven't even started yet.”

Oh gods… You whimper as another finger enters you slowly. Your boyfriend cooing above you, tongue lapping and tasting. Wordlessly you gyrate your hips matching his slow rhythm.

“Going to make you feel so good-make you scream. Till I'm the only thing you can think about.” He stares down at you, eyes glassy words falling freely from his sinful mouth. You can never get enough of him like this. All his self imposed walls crumbling, his wants and desires free to you.

You shift uncomfortably the position hell on your neck and shoulders but not wanting this torture to end. Reading your mind he loosened his grip letting your body rest fulling on the bed and sunk to the foot of the bed. He was clearly not done preparing you for what he had in store. Once settled he delved back into you. One finger becomes two, then two becomes three, his pace steadily increasing till all you can focus on is the lewd sounds emanating from between your thighs and your harsh pants as he brings you masterfully to your release.

The fire of your climax hit suddenly thick fingers curling and pressing onto your sweet spot, thumb rubbed your clit in harsh circles. The pleasure/pain of it all makes you arch off the bed fingers yanking uncontrollably at his hair, nails scratching through his undercut. Your harsh panting turns into cries for mercy when he doesn't pull away from your languid body dragging another stuttering peak from you.

Finally boneless and shaking he unravels himself from your thighs making a show of licking your slick from his lips and fingers. “A breather my love?” He chuckles dragging shaky fingers through his bedraggled hair coming to lay beside you hand rubbing possessively down your soft midriff.

You flash him a cocky grin. “Why? Winded already old man?”

Hanzo smirked back dangerously. “I assure you I am far from old,” He takes your hand kissing the knuckles before lowering it to cup his straining erection. “And nowhere near done with you.”

In hindsight, you should have known that antagonizing him always ended badly for you. Pinned and writhing you sob failing to stem the flow of tears trailing down your nose, teeth damn near close to tearing through your comforter. You were so close…

“Noo!” You wail as your walls clench around air. Again your orgasm threatens to overflow before dying down again to an agonizing simmer. You choke on a cry as your boyfriend slams home again with an animalistic grunt draping over your back, hands gripping your burning backside. His thrusts fast, hard, and punishing. You would have bruises tomorrow for sure.

Just how you like it.

“What’s wrong?” He pants in your ear tongue tracing your sensitive shell. “Winded already?”

Your snide remark was cut short at the feel of rough fingers pinching your swollen clit, the head of his shaft grinding against your folds. He wouldn't last much longer, as much as he was edging you he was holding himself back too. He hissed sheathing himself again in one rough thrust finally ready to finish this.

Oh this time please...please! You beg wantonly clawing at his forearms braced on either side of your head. Your words becoming a garbled mess. The world fades at the edges your climax bloomed slowly but stronger than before. You tremble helplessly underneath him as he guides you to a shared peak.

“Beg for me hime.”

You wail pitifully, crying out his name like a mantra begging for anything, promising you would do anything if he just let you have this.

He breaks before you swearing roughly teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your shoulder, hips stuttering as he releases deep inside you. The heat of him filling you finally bringing you over. Eyes open but unseeing you scream wordlessly into your blankets, knees giving out feeling your combined spend spilling past the tight seal of his cock to trail down your sweat soaked thighs.

Hanzo falls on you, sated body twitching sporadically as his dick softens inside of your well used cunt. You lay breathless and entangled enjoying the weight of him covering you as you both catch your breath. He moved finally collapsing beside you only to scoop you up reverently to lay on his chest. Gentle kisses pepper your face and shoulders as he rubs your back soothingly.

“Was I too-" He began brows knitting in worry, noticing the faint start of bruising blooming across your hips. You cut him off with a kiss, fingers scratching the underside of his chin.

“Shh. It was perfect thank you.” You mutter before drifting off.

He hums kissing your forehead and wraps his arms around your exhausted form, sleep calling you both.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

New message at 7:50 am

Tabatha: Hey boss lady! You coming to open shop today? Could have sworn I saw your man on the corner of east and main when I was walking up...

Miss call from Tabatha at 8:00 am

New message at 8:05 am

Tabatha: Gurl you coming in today?

New message at 8:05 am

Tabatha: Or is he ;))

Sent message at 11:23 am

 Heyy Tab sorry I missed your call… I got caught up in some stuff

Sent message at 11:25 am

 Sorry you had to open by yourself.

New message at 11:28 am

Tabatha: Is stuff ya boyfriend’s dick?

Sent message at 11:45 am

Hanzo says good morning

[dumbledamnn]

Party Like It's 1974 (Ch.1)

Characters: Marauders, OCs

Pairings: Remus x fem!OC, Marlene x Dorcus, Lily x James

Word Count: 3810

Warnings: Language

Summary: Kat and Emma go to Hogwarts in 1974 lol

For the workers at Platform 9 ¾, there were only two true days of work a year. The first was in June, a day they like to call the Day of Withdrawal. This is the day when all the menacing adolescent children return to their parents for the summer holiday. Some quick-witted station worker coined this phrase when they noticed all the parents looked as if they had finally succumbed to their separation anxiety while all the kids looked like they could use a butterbeer.

The second falls at the start of September and was dubbed the Day of Frenzy. Though just as many people came in June as they did in September, the latter is significantly more chaotic. The Day of Frenzy is the day that all the incoming students board the Hogwarts Express and take off towards their next year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The frenzy is fueled by the reunions of overjoyed upperclassmen, the nose-blowing cries of parents as they wave goodbye to their babies, and the panic of first-years who simply don’t know what’s going on.

Unfortunately for the platform workers, today is the first of September and the station is filled to the brim with black cloaks and trolley carts. One could barely hear the conductor announce the countdown till take off over the hustle and bustle of students.

Amid the people, a fourth-year meanders through the crowd with her cart. She glances around, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar face. There are so many people and the heat is practically rising off the floor. She rolls up her black sleeves and shoves her circle glasses back to the top of her nose.

She is a sweet-looking girl whose entire complexion screams her Irish heritage. Her freckles are like hundreds of dots of color on her otherwise pale skin. Her black hair stands out, tied back in braided pigtails.

She tries again, surveying the crowd as she pushes her cart along. She realizes that driving blindly was a bad idea as she collides with another cart, sending their luggage straight into each other.

“Vidor! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The girl rushes to the point of collision. She picks up her owl, poking at it. The bird, Vidor, shakes its feathers and gently shrieks. The girl lets out half a sigh of relief, interrupted by her realization that Vidor wasn’t the only victim of this accident.

“I’m so- wait what the-” She whips around to face the other cart but finds no one at the wheel.

“EMMA!” two voices harmonize in a horrific shriek from behind her. Emma barely flinches as she turns to face her surprisers, a wide grin on her face.

“James! Sirius! Hi!” She tackles them with a bear hug. The two, stand for a second, partially stunned by her hug and partially stunned by her lack of response. Finally, they succumb to her hug, their confused looks mixing in with the joy of seeing an old friend.

“How the hell did you not react to that?” James begins to laugh at the absurdity that is Emma.

She shrugs, finally letting the two breathe.

“My brain, empty, no thought, can’t be surprised cause nothing is going on up there.” The girl points at her head and begins to laugh with James.

“Emma is an enigma. It’s better not to question it.” Sirius slings his arm around Emma’s shoulders, grinning.

“So how are you guys? How was your summer?” Emma looks at the two boys. Her smile is huge and her eyes gleam with excitement. Her expectant looks are met with a bit of hesitation as the two boys look at each other. Were they caught off guard or was that an awkward glance?

A faint “Sonorus” drifts across the crowd before the train conductor’s voice interrupts every conversation in the station.

“Five more minutes till departure! Students, say your goodbyes and board the train!”

“Later then.”James gives a short smile before making his way back over to their converging carts. He wiggles his finger in front of Vidor before pulling his stuff briskly off of Emma’s.

The three walk across the platform, dropping their luggage off at the back of the train. They head to the front, maneuvering through the departing families till they climb the stairs to their next year.

--

The Hogwarts Express smells like candy. It tastes like sugar sticks and pumpkin pasties. It feels like faded velvet and leather briefcases, like an old museum with framed strangers promising a worthwhile trip and nick-nacks whose purpose was lost years ago.

Led by James, the three push through hugs and trunks to get to a row of open carts in the back. Through the foggy glass, you could make out which ones were occupied and which were already full of other eager students.

Cabin A is occupied by Maegen Locke and her Hufflepuff friends. The cart fills with cheers as she reveals a king of clubs. A group of sorrowful first years hands her their Licorice Lace as the cards begin to shuffle themselves.

The practically silent Cabin B is the current reading spot of a Ravenclaw couple. Though they are facing each other, they are too engrossed in their reading to mind each other’s presence.

The Slytherins seem to have claimed Cabins C-F as their territory, each cart filled with bitter hisses and judgemental glares. As they pass, Sirius and Emma make sure to return the favor to each individual.

The next set of carts are home to less noise than the front. Scattered amongst them are pairs of friends or lonely individuals hoping for a friendly face. James breezes past, tossing a quick glance into each window. He is searching for someone. Emma and Sirius trail behind, still mocking the rather irritating Slytherin they had just passed.

James finally halts in front of Cabin M as another announcement fills the train.

“One minute till take-off. Hurry up and board the train! We’ve got places to be people.”

“Feeling rather sassy today, isn’t he?” Sirius chuckles.

“I support him. I would too if I had this job.” Emma gives a sympathetic nod towards the speaker. “Keep on keeping on Mr. Conductor.” Sirius lets out a yelp of laughter.

Suddenly, Cabin M swings open. Two heads at very different heights pop out. The first, and lowest, is a soft and round look boy with blotchy cheeks and fluffy-looking hair. He smiles a very toothy grin at the new company. The second towers above the first, a more defined face decorated with freckles and faded scars. His hair curls down into half circles, matching the slight curve of his pointed nose.

“Hi, guys!” The shorter one bursts into the hallway. He is radiating excitement.

“Hey Pete, Hi Remus.” James ruffles Peter’s hair and enters the cabin, throwing himself down by the door.

“Remus, you got here early? Hey Peter!” Sirius follows after James, also patting Peter on his head like a house cat. Peter is glowing from the affection.

“Hi Peter,” Emma skips the pat but offers a quick hug instead. He is warm and soft like a gentle bear. He scuttles back into the cabin taking his seat between Sirius and James.

“Hi!” Emma’s face flushes ever so slightly after making eye contact with Remus.

“Hey,” His voice is gentle as he motions for her to enter into the cart. “Ready for another year?”

”Hell yeah!”

It’s barely 11 am and Emma’s mouth already hurts from smiling. Her stomach is flipping with excitement in a mix of nervous butterflies and overwhelming joy. Her mouth is producing way more saliva than it normally does.

She takes a seat next to Remus by the window. Outside, the platform, now void of students, is filled with waving parents.

“Last call. If you haven't boarded yet, I swear to God.” The conductor’s voice sharply carries into the cabin. His mood has decreased significantly in the past fifteen minutes.

The boys begin talking about future pranks and first classes while Emma stares out the window. Normally she would be absolutely engrossed in the conversation but something was bothering her. Her eyes darted across the rows of parents, searching for the bother.

Emma has this special skill, a spidey sense of sorts. When it comes to people, she can read them like books. Some people use auras or zodiac signs but nothing is as certain as Emma’s instincts. They were, for better or worse, never wrong.

In all honesty, though, her instincts span farther than just reading people. Directions, decisions, the right places to eat. One time last year, she was the only one not in the mood for pie (something very unusual for her) and she was the only one to avoid food poisoning. All to say, right now, her instincts are telling her that something was missing and she knew exactly what it was.

The train chugs out a burst of air and the wheels begin to squeak.

“Wait a second,” Emma says, turning towards the door of the cabin. “I swear to god if she is late for this.”

The train begins to move, a light chug on the tracks, before screeching to a sudden stop. The group lurches forward at the sudden stall. Outside the cabin and down the hall, a girl boards and begins offering a slew of apologies to the other students.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! That’s my bad. I didn’t mean to.” Emma’s mouth drops as Sirius howls in laughter. Peter’s eyes dart around in slight confusion.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” James cackles as he opens the door to their cabin. He waves his hand towards the girl down the hall.

“James! Hi!” she says before turning towards some glaring Slytherin. “Sorry about that.”

She quickly walks down the hall to Cabin M, rushing into the seat beside Remus before the train picks up speed and shoots down the tracks.

“Kat, I literally called you this morning, I, how? How are you late? Why?” Emma leans over Remus to stare down at her friend. Sirius calms his laughter down while the others wait for a response.

Kat breathes heavily. Her cloak is sagging by her elbows and her brow is furrowed in sweat. The extra time she took to get to the platform might have been used to do her hair. Unfortunately, the rush has made her space buns sag on the side of her head. Loose strands curl around the frame of her face.

“I,” she breathes heavily, “couldn't decide what to wear.”

The boys snicker slightly, but Emma’s face scrunches in even further confusion.

“We have...a uniform?” She questions, glancing down at Kat, who is wearing the same thing as everyone else in the cabin.

“I realized that...an hour too late…” She trails off, glancing around at the boys. She notices they are all stifling smiles at the sheer stupidity of the situation. The Hogwarts Express has never been more than a second late until now. It was almost an impressive feat.

“Oh my god.” Emma lets out a disappointed mom sigh but she can’t stay in character. She starts to laugh, allowing the others to finally break as well.

Kat sighs, still trying to get some oxygen in her lungs before taking off her cloak and shoving it to the corner of the seat. The train is much cooler than the station but the cold September air was not enough to stop the pool of sweat from the run to Platform 9 ¾.

“So, how was everyone’s summer?” Kat asks as the laughter dies down.

“Hung out at James’ for most of the summer.” Sirius pulls out his wand and starts to weave it between his fingers. “I thought I’d get a break from the snoring but alas.”

James punches Sirius in the side, stopping Sirius from laughing at his own joke.

“He helped me with my quidditch training. This year, I’m gonna kick some Hufflepuff ass. Wait, Emma, did you say you were gonna try out this year?”

“Yup! I want to be a beater so I can smack the shit out of everything.” James and Emma high five. Remus giggles but quickly goes back to his nonchalant grin.

“My mum and I went to the Quidditch World Cup.” Peter’s soft and mousy voice fills the pause.

James shoots up in his seat, excitement on his face. “Oh yeah, I heard about that. You were there?”

Peter, motivated by James’ interest, begins to ramble. “I was! Everyone snuck in these things called dissimulators that puffed up colored smoke. It was mad. At first, there weren’t that many people in the crowd but the more colored smoke puffed up, the larger the crowds grew. Then suddenly, halfway through the match, all their dissimulators turned into their wands. It turns out they snuck them in despite the new code. There were so many of them that the guy in charge just quit then and there. It was crazy!”

“Hell yeah! Fuck the system! Idlewind sucked ass. God, I wish I could've seen it.” James raises his fists in a fuck-the-system type of way.

James is the current Gryffindor seeker. He is the best seeker the team has ever seen since the early 1900s. Ever since his first year, he brought the team countless victories making Gryffindor undefeated since 1971.

“What about you Rem?” Sirius nods towards the quiet giant.

“I read a few books. My family and I traveled to Paris for a weekend in May. It was pretty fun. Oh! I forgot.” Remus stands up and snatches a briefcase from the storage above. He flips over the leather flap and starts digging around. He pulls out a stack of Parisian postcards and begins to deal them out to his friends.

The girls almost synchronically say “Awe!”

Sirius lets out a genuinely excited “Nice.” as he inspects the image. “I love muggle things.”

“Anyways, what about you guys?” Remus glances at the two girls sitting beside him as he tucks his briefcase above.

Kat nods her head to Emma as a signal for her to go first.

“Me?” Emma points to herself.

“Yes, you,” Kat says in a mom-ish tone.

“I’m just making sure.”

“Who else would I be-”

“Ladies. Though I love a good catfight, is someone gonna answer the question?” Sirius interjects, finally tucking his postcard into his cloak.

Emma kicks Sirius in the shin. “I’m telling Marlene you said that.” Sirius’s eyes go wide in slight fear as Emma starts to recall her summer.

“My family and I went camping all over Ireland. We took an RV and went everywhere, ending at my Grandparent’s house.”

“Awe that sounds so-” Kat tries to say but Emma wasn’t done.

“And then we got absolutely schwasted with my relatives.”

“O-Oh.”

Emma smiles sincerely and turns to face Kat, ready for her summer wrap-up. However, the rest of the gang is cackling. Sirius’s distracting deep-voiced Hyena laugh almost masks Remus’s sweet giggles. Peter snorts softly while James laughs like a politician. Kat just huffs out air.

After a bit of laughter, Kat finally answers the question.

It is worth mentioning that, though Kat attends Hogwarts, she’s not quite like the others. Besides the fact that she is completely muggle-born, she is from America.

“Um...I went to Arkansas at one point. I think it's a fake place made by the government. We shot fireworks off and it almost hit my brother. Luckily his hearing came back after a few days. Uhh..let me think… I tried to bake cupcakes but I accidentally baked the frosting and iced the cupcakes with the batter. That was a really bad experience…” She trails off, finally looking at her friend’s faces.

The rest of the group just stares at her in complete confusion.

“Yup, sounds about right. Anyways, what classes are you guys hoping to get?” Emma turns back to the rest of the group.

“Genuinely, you two are just- yup okay. I’m hoping to take Astronomy this year.”

The group begins to recall what classes are for fourth years and what teachers they are excited to see. Seamlessly they fall into old patterns of conversation and inside jokes. Their laughter fills the cabin, the reunion of best friends after a far too long break. They are talking and laughing so loudly, they almost miss the Trolley Witch.

“Wait!” Peter yells down the hall. The Trolley Witch slowly pulls the cart back in front of Cabin M.

“What would you lovely bunch like?” She waves her hand over the array of brightly colored candies and chocolates.

Simultaneously, there is a shout for chocolate. Emma and Remus look at each other before chuckling awkwardly.

“Dear God…” Sirius rolls his eyes, smiling “I’ll take one Bertie’s Botts please.”

“Here you go, dear. Anyone else?”

“Do y’all have any like, lollipop type things?” Kat eyes the cart curiously.

“We have acid pops.” The witch’s voice was like honey.

“Oh, that sounds fun, sure I’ll-”

“No!” Emma shouts. “Unless you want a hole burned in your tongue.”

“Okay, literally why would you sell that?” Kat’s face is wide in confusion.

“Why’d you go and spoil the fun?” James laughs while Sirius pouts at the missed opportunity.

The Trolley Witch starts to laugh, a rather haunting contrast to the sweetness of her voice. She rolls the cart away, letting the door shut behind her.

“So Remus, chocolate already? Is it your time of the month?” Sirius nudges Remus’s foot. Remus rolls his eyes and kicks Sirius back. Sirius yelps and grabs his shin.

“If you guys keep kicking me, I’m gonna break a bone.”

“Then stop saying stupid shit.” Emma kicks his other foot, gently but enough to get another yelp.

“And never ask a person if it's their time of the month, That’s just common sense.” Kat rolls her eyes and smirks at Emma who glances back.

“Can’t a man enjoy his chocolate in peace?” Remus shakes his head. He continues to munch on the bar, sporting a look of satisfaction with each bite.

Emma looks outside. The view had changed from the cityscape of London to the rolling hills of Scotland. The sun that was once midway in the sky was now creeping towards the horizon. Has time flown that quickly?

“Have you guys heard from your other roommate this summer?” Kat curiously looks at the other guys. Their faces are completely blank.

“We have another roommate?” James asks as Sirius begins counting the boys in the room.

“Is it not just the four of us?”

“I didn’t notice anyone else for the past three years…” Peter mumbles. Remus just shrugs, too preoccupied with his delicious treat.

“You’re kidding me right?” Kat glances around, hoping for even a hint of a smile. She came up empty.

“You’re telling me there are five students in a room?” James asks.

“Emma, help, my brain is hurting from the dumbass-ery.”

Emma begins to count on her fingers, smiling but also surprised at the ingenuity of the boys.

“Marlene, Dorcus, Lily, Kat, and Me. Five.”

The guys let out a synchronized “Ahh…” as if this was a brand new revelation.

”I suppose we’ll find out when we get there.”

“But Gu-” Kat is interrupted by Emma’s shushing noise. She shakes her head and Kat recedes back in her seat.

The room fills with piercing golden sunlight as the sun tucks itself behind the hills. The setting sun is a marker signaling twenty minutes left in the train ride.

“Oh, I have a question,” Kat asks.

“Yes, Miss Russell. What is your question?” Emma responds in the most McGonagall voice she could muster. It was pretty on point.

“Are y’all still doing that thing?” She glances around.

“Did she just say y’all?” Remus’s face scrunches at the cowboy-ness of the phrase. Emma laughs and Sirius snickers.

“What thing?” James nods back to Kat, acknowledging her question.

“The animal thing, I forgot the word…” Suddenly she is shushed by everyone. She jolts back in her seat. She squints until the memory comes back to her.

“Oh sorry, yeah I forgot… It's a secret.” Kat starts to whisper, glancing out the door’s window. No one passes by.

“It’s more than a secret, it's illegal,” Peter mutters, glancing around nervously. James nudges Peter and gives him an affirming nod. Peter sits up with more confidence than he had before and smiles at Remus.

Remus stares at his empty wrapper.

“Yeah, we’re still doing it,” Sirius says in an almost demanding tone. As if there wasn’t any other answer besides yes. He stares at the sunset outside.

“Of course we’re still doing it.” Emma smiles, and gently pats Remus’s knee, pulling him back from his wrapper into reality. Remus returns the smile and mutters something along the lines of “thanks”.

James chuckles, “Hey it looks like we’re pulling into Hogsmeade.”

Outside, the dark landscape fades into brick buildings with uneven roofs. The buildings, partially obscured by darkness, still glow with a whimsical light. Some have shop titles branded on the front with faded letters while others glisten with a sort of old-fashioned newness.

The train tracks along until it arrives at a long wooden port lined with poles carrying firefly torches. In the middle of the wooden planks stands a rather large and hairy man holding a little kerosine lamp. He waves as the train flashes by him.

“Hagrid!” Emma and Sirius smush their faces against the window while the rest wave furiously behind them. Hagrid recognizes the zealous pack and returns the wave as they speed by.

Finally, the train screeches to a stop. With a final blast from the horn, the doors fling open.

“Students, grab your things and go.”

Suddenly, the train is filled with the same hustle from back at the station. The students snatch their bags from the overhead storage and make their way, single file, to the boardwalk outside. The first years are hurried away with Hagrid while the rest wrap themselves in their cloaks in an attempt to fight the brisk autumn air.

Finally, a rather short professor with an extraordinary mustache begins to direct the students down the road to standing wagons. The wooden wheels are at attention with reigns that lead to nowhere. As the students board, the carts sway from side to side. After the cart is full, it takes off, ricketing full speed down the dirt road towards the castle.

“I’m so excited.” Emma practically jumps onto the cart. Boarding one by one, the group takes in the horseless carriages. Magic was always peculiar but this was astonishing even to those who knew magic like their ABCs. As soon as James sits down next to the others, the carriage starts to trot away towards the castle. It was time to start their next year at Hogwarts.

[youarejesting]

BTS365 Prompts

[Masterlist]

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester.

Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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        April 30th - 6th

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Kim Seokjin: No pants

Jin was currently working on a large project. It was a delicate thing he was producing truly from the heart. He had been planning this for weeks gathering some tools for the job from various sources. He set up his live stream ready to show the Army what he was creating. So there he was slaving away sweat collecting across his brow. He was exhausted but he continued showing the Army how his ideas and processes formed together. And that’s how you found him, no pants with such precise hand motions,  he was really working up a sweat. 

“Why are you doing That on a live stream?”

“Shush, I'm almost there,” he panted now using both hands, for the grand finale.

“Can I help?” You said thinking it would definitely end this whole show a lot quicker.

“Yes!” His voice cried out, throwing his hands up in the air excited. “I did it.”

“Congratulations you made pancakes”

“These aren’t just pancakes, I got them the same size five or take a millimetre or two and stacked them perfectly” He grinned proud

“That’s a pretty neat skill Jin, you should take a photo” You reached for your camera but as you looked back up he was cutting into them and eating happily.

Min Yoongi: Space

“Hey Yoongi do you have a piece of paper?”

“Yeah rip one out from any of those books” He sighed and you walked over to the small pile when you found a children's notebook, this one had a rocket ship on it and you opened it up towards the middle to rip out a page cleanly, but there was some roughly scrawled words. 

I wish I could go to space camp. But Mum and Dad can’t afford it. It’s okay if I don’t go, we can have fun on our own. Love Min Yoongi

Your heart melted and you closed the book without paper and you googled the nearest space camp and you told the other boys that it was for Yoongi’s birthday, they seemed rather excited packing their things and you packed for Yoongi and yourself. You had hired out the facility to run a camp for the group and some camera men this was something that the Army couldn’t miss.

Jung Hoseok: Free  

Waking excited Hoseok went for a shower and brushed his hair. He dressed and shined his shoes. Today was the day and he was so excited.

“Jung Hoseok?”

“Yes sir” He smiled at the entry, the door slid open and he was escorted through the building and down to an office. There was a mountain of paperwork to sign and when he was done they handed him another change of clothes.

He was so happy his fingers caressing the fabric of his favorite shirt. He was quick to change and they smiled. He was nervous, walking out the front door and the gate opened slowly and there you were waiting for him on the other side.

His little pregnant wife. He held you in his arms and kissed your face all over dropping to his knees and whispering to your round belly.

“I am so glad to have you back”

“J-hope!” The boys shouted running in their shirts reading. ‘Enjoy your Freedom!’

“Did you get any cool prison tattoos?”

“No I didn’t it was only three months guys”

Kim Namjoon: May the 4th be with you  

You were at a convention dressed as Queen Padmé Amidala you felt self conscious about your stomach being on show and the tight outfit. That was until you walked into a very elaborate dark figure. 

“Oh sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going. I really like your outfit wow, this is honestly the best Darth Vader I have seen” You smiled admiring the work that had been put into it and they still didn’t speak. 

“Oh my gosh can I get a photo of you both” someone asked and you smiled and the two of you posed together and you had soon gathered a crowd people taking pictures and asking for you to act out scenes and soon a Yoda appeared painted green and grinning, alongside a gold shiny C-3PO a chewbacca and a tiny dog dressed as R2D2. Everyone was getting pictures when you heard. “Can we get a kiss?”

“Anakin takes off your mask, you put a lot of work into replicating the character” The Yoda whispered to the tall dark figure.

“But she is so pretty and I am a nerd”

“Dude she is a nerd too, she is dressed as a star wars character at a convention full of nerds”

The crowd was cheering as C-3PO was doing a very amazing Robot dance choreography. Along came a broad shouldered man dressed up as slave Princess leia, a very lethargic Han Solo and a smiling Luke skywalker.

“Take of the mask Anakin” the Yoda and the chewbacca lifted the mask and revealed a very handsome Anakin you heard some whispers about him being asain so he didn’t look like the character but you thought he was even more handsome.

“Kiss, Kiss, Kiss” The crowd chanted and he looked up at you with a blush across his cheeks and you pulled gently on the front of his costume until his lips met yours. His friends started cheering as did the crowd and you pulled out a small piece of paper from your pocket and wrote down your number and a quick message before you walked away.

“What does it say?”

“May the fourth be with you” He chuckled and you heard a laugh that reminded you of a weird clown or horse wiping down some windows.

Park Jimin: Herb  @anaiss97​ [Full story] Not much was known about the young Korean man who showed up to all the parties. All anyone knew was that he was the biggest flirt and he had the herbs everyone wanted. Honestly, it didn’t matter what you wanted he had it somehow. You were at one of these parties, it wasn’t really your scene. 

Usually, you had no problem but tonight you really just couldn’t. So you were trying to find a place to get a quick nap, you opened the first door to see the Host with his boyfriend chatting quietly.

“Sorry I was looking for a place to rest”

Seokjin smiled “You can have the room or perhaps if you want we can entertain you?” 

The two smirked and you blushed once more. “No I really am tired and want to sleep, I was working on a thesis all night last night and–”

“Say no more sweetheart, rest” you climbed into the blankets, Seokjin switched the light off and you were resting drifting off easily. ~ The light switch flicked on and even with your eyes closed you felt blinded. You couldn’t stop the harsh shriek that pierced the air. “What? What is it now!?” 

“I am sorry” the voice was soft and unrecognizable as its owner switched the lights back off, “Can I sit for a moment?”

“Sure” you mumbled laying back down, you could smell the stranger’s beautiful cologne and you got curious. “Turning your phone on and using the light of your lock screen to examine the stranger's face”

Ash-blonde hair painted on the side, he smiled wetting his thick lips with his tongue. 

“Ah it’s you” dropping your arm back to the bed no longer feeling uncomfortable, all the encounters you had with him were pleasant, he always used endearments because he never remembered names. 

“You know me, baby?” He took his phone and repeated your process to stream a soft light over your face. “Oh my, baby it is you, what are you doing in here sleeping your usually the brightest in the room”

“Thesis” you mumbled and he hummed taking your hand. 

“Hey listen how about I make you an offer tonight you can ask for anything you want and I will give it to you for half price if I don’t have it I will give you the next best thing for free” the lamp beside the bed was clicked on giving a soft orange glow throughout the room. 

“You got fried chicken?” You hummed looking over at him curiously you were craving it. He opened his jacket. 

“I got a warm meatball sub, a packet of lollipops a container of home-cooked spaghetti, I got spare underwear in all different sizes this is a set of slippers when your feet get sore in heels, juice, mixers spirits I got herbs for days this one will make you happy this one calms you down this one here has you seeing pretty colors this one has you asleep till morning, this is my house special it takes like a cinnamon donut” he looked over. You shook your head and he sighed lifting a gym bag onto the bed, “alright brace yourself, I got spare clothes, ramyeon packets, a scented candle, batteries pet food, I have painkillers, cold medicine, I have this thing which I think was an Easter egg, I got a 3DS, a switch and a variety of games, I got a can of tomato soup, yet no can opener weird, I got a heat pack, I got this adult diaper and I don’t know why, and a spiderman comic”

“No” you sighed

“Tell me what you want and if I know I don’t have it it’s free” he hummed 

“I want a cuddle?”

Kim Taehyung: Thirst

Owner of the club ‘Thirst’ was just a front business, you were actually a hacker. A good one, if you were feeling like bragging. You were kind of in hiding and couldn’t really trust anyone you didn’t know before the incident. Who knew your skills with a computer would lead to a government website which you breached enough for them to call it treason.

You were just snooping around the dark web when you stumbled upon documents of some truly disgusting things one of them actually made you physically ill. But your computer system began screaming at you that they were reverse tracking your baby. It wouldn’t be easy, you had a unique code and half of it was utter nonsense. Saying goodbye to your baby. You destroyed everything on it. Packed everything and left. Thank god you had done everything card less, you worked for cash you paid cash and you did some shady business with people so that you would never be traced.

You moved just in case and started a front business so that in the event anything happened you would have an alibi.

“Manager-nim the computer is doing something funny, can you call the technician?” Yoongi called quietly, the guy was a terrible ‘people’ person , an excellent DJ and an expert in mixing cocktails.

“I can have a look” You smiled

“No manager last time you almost broke the computers, you don’t understand them like we do” Hoseok pushed you away from the registers and subsequently the computers attached to them.

“Manager you just boss us around okay, that's your job and we will follow your orders as it is our job”

“Manager-nim, you have a young man in your office waiting for his job interview.” Jimin cleaned the tables dressed in a charming club aesthetic. His job was to clean tables and lead people into buying more drinks. A host.

The man in your office was handsome like your main host Seokjin and charming as Jimin. Your bouncer Namjoon stepped in briefly giving you a courtesy greeting alongside the new trainee Jungkook he had potential especially with all those muscles. All your workers doubled as bouncers; they all had their strengths.

“So Kim Taehyung is it, what makes you want to be a host at thirst?”

“I really want to make friends and I can’t flirt with girls. What I mean is I can if it is for work but I can’t just do it on my own so I would like to gain more confidence” You nodded, it was all lies you had searched him thoroughly, he worked for the government more specifically the Cyber coordinator and he was here to gather Intel.

This was going to be fun.

Jeon Jungkook: Nurse

Nurse Jeon. Yup that title gave him a lot of grief from his friends and he hated it, just cause he was a man didn’t mean he couldn’t be a nurse. Sure he aimed to be a doctor, but things didn’t work out and he wasn’t accepted into medical school, so he aimed a little lower and became a Nurse.

In his opinion he was a kick-ass nurse, he worked in the Pediatric ward and spent most of his time bringing smiles to the kid's faces, he made his rounds with ice creams and cups of pudding and jelly. He sang and danced for the kids and played superheroes and he was always Ironman. The highlight of his day was when the doctors would do their rounds, not only did he admire them and their job so much he admired you and how brilliant and beautiful you were.

“Oh Aera, look at this little tool, do you know what it does? It lets me listen to your heartbeat, would you like to listen to mine first?” The young girl nodded “Wow you are a pro at this you could be a doctor when you are older”

“Doctor Y/N, Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Uh... No, why do you have someone in mind?” You grinned

“Nurse Jeon” she smiled and you giggled 

“He is cute isn’t he, but I get nervous around boys and I can’t really talk to them and Nurse Jeon is really handsome, what if he doesn’t like me?”

“He does, he told us when he got drunk off chocolate puddings” a young teen in the corner nursing his swollen cheeks after dental surgery. Jungkook was making extreme hand gestures at the young boy smirking across the room. “This was before he announced he was Iron man and ran around the room pretending to shoot lasers from his hands and making all the shooting sounds”

“Well if he is Ironman than we must be destined to be together, Ironman is my favorite superhero”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Solar Flare

A test fic based on a post i made last night, just slightly altered now that I have seen the third season! If people enjoy this I may write a full multi-chap 👀

also i didn’t beta read this at all so there’s probably some typos in there somewhere lol

———————

The ancient demoness was not about to be defeated by hair. As the blinding glow blooming from her wrists grew brighter and stronger, she knew she only had a few moments to make her decision, so she wheeled around on her unsteady tendrils and aimed her gaze at the shuddering form of the ex-bearer of the Moonstone.

Nobody could see what she was doing- it was much too bright to know her movements weren’t one of a struggle. Because she was struggling, yes, struggling with the unrelenting energy surging before her talons and struggling with the knowledge of nearing obliteration, but she wasn’t struggling with this.

Curses were never a difficult thing for Zhan Tiri.

And, after all, the Moonstone did rightfully belong to the girl.

—

When the burning white light whipping throughout the courtyard ruins faded, Rapunzel set her gaze upon the beautiful gold and blue gem hovering before her. Pascal cooed in awe on her shoulder and she broke out in a huge grin.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” She murmured, hearing whispers all below her of shock and amazement. Her smile only grew bigger. “Cass, we did it!”

She spun around to see her best friend’s reaction, and instead just saw a circular nest of black rocks shielding the area where Cassandra had once been.

In an instant, Rapunzel’s smile is gone, quickly replaced with a horrified frown. She wanted to run to the rocks and tear them all down with her bear hands, but she couldn’t move. She could only stare as dread spilled through her gut like a thick, dark oil spill.

“What’s going on?”

Eugene’s voice sounded from her left- he and the others are making their way up what’s left of the stairs to formerly see the jewel up close, but, instead, were now getting the terrible sight of the lingering stones.

“Why—” Eugene swung his head from side to side. “I’m not the only one who sees no other spikes, right?”

“No, there’s none left.” Lance assured him, along with a few other scattered agreements.

“Then...why are these...?” Rapunzel murmured.

Slowly, she took a step towards the stones- nothing happens, so she takes another, and another, and another, until she’s right in front off an obsidian black point.

“Cass?” She called out.

No answer.

“Cass!”

Nothing. No grunt or groan or sarcastic-Cassandra-remark; just...nothing.

Rapunzel’s heart began to beat painfully fast inside of her chest. The thought of Cassandra turning on her again and leaving these horrible earthly daggers as a warning was terrible enough, but the sword hanging over her head was the fear of Cassandra perishing in the blast. The poor girl had already been wrung dry, her hand probably still wasn’t in the best shape, and she even had a gaping, charred, black hole in her chest! How had Rapunzel been so blind? She should have made Cassandra hide somewhere, but it’s too late because—

“Mmm...!”

Right before tears could start to fall, a noise- a whimper sliced through Rapunzel’s clouded breakdown like a silver sword. She looked up sharply and tried to peer into the nest, but there were way too many rocks to see inside. Her heart rate stutters for just a moment, then continues beating wildly once again.

“Cass?” Rapunzel called out desperately. She didn’t want to touch the rocks, she didn’t want to start everything all over again, she didn’t even want her hair back (it’s been giving her quite the neck pain for awhile), but she didn’t want to go on without Cassandra even more.

“Did you guys hear that?” She asked for confirmation first, looking around at her impromptu army.

“Was that...?” Eugene tilted his head.

“Cassandra?” Varian finished for him.

Rapunzel couldn’t take it anymore- she needed her best friend in her arms now.

She held out her hand, closed her eyes, and—

Crack-crack-crack

That was the sound of blue spiderwebs spreading rapidly through the black rocks when Rapunzel’s hand was mere inches away from its surface. She stepped back in surprise and Pascal chitters anxiously on her shoulder as the stones around the front break and crumple away into tiny ebony shards, letting sunlight leak down onto the girl inside.

“Cass-!!”

Rapunzel’s cry died quickly on her lips. She halted her forward stride to her best friend and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. The girl inside the nest of rocks was much too small to be Cassandra...

“Cass...?”

Eugene stepped beside his girlfriend and peered inside, followed by Varian and Lance, and they all had the same expression as the princess- absolute confusion and bewilderment.

“Was Cassandra always that short?” Eugene asked in a shoddy attempt to lighten the tense mood.

“Dear?” The Queen called out in concern. “What’s wrong?”

A few of others, like the brotherhood and two girls, were starting to inch their way to check out the view, while others didn’t dare get near the things that destroyed their home and sent them into this disaster.

“Something’s wrong with...”

The girl inside the rocks stirred, and the first thing Rapunzel notices is the glistening black rock shards stretching out from her arms before they jolt back into her body, leaving thin trails of blood trickling down before the skin rapidly mends itself. Then, she notices her hair.

The girl’s hair is the same raven black color as Cassandra’s, and even had the same length and tangles and bedhead style, but electric blue was creeping out from the roots and spilling through several gnarled locks.

The hair was just a kickstart, however.

This girl was just a child, only looking to be around nine, maybe ten. She was so pale her skin was almost translucent, too, and she was awfully skinny and small. As she awoke, she gripped the cracked ground with tiny little hands, one of which was charred black. The other bore nails the color of bruises, and perhaps they were just bruises, but they could also very well be the rocks that seem to course through her body, just lurking in her hands for their command to be released.

Everyone was still as the child sat up weakly, her thin arms shaking from that exertion alone. She collapsed during her first attempt, landing hard with a pitiful cry. The rocks around her shudder and retreat into the ground, and gasps sound all around from the people who hadn’t been able to see in.

A second attempt is made and, this time, the little girl is able to get up to her knees, although she’s still swaying. She has her back to Rapunzel and the others, and it appears she didn’t seem to notice anyone. But then she turns around very slowly and lays one Storm grey eye and one electric blue eye on the people around her.

Scream.

The child is screaming. It’s a terrible, heartbreaking sound, and watching her scamper into a pile of rubble and huddle against in it fear makes it even worse. But when she begins to cry out for her mother is the icing on the cake.

Rapunzel is the one who began to approach Cassandra- and now she knew for sure it was Cassandra. Everyone else, aside from her mother, Eugene, Lance, and Varian, all looked like they wanted to put the girl’s head on a spike and feed her remaining body parts to pigs. Still, even Rapunzel’s warm, friendly aura couldn’t calm down the child, who was starting to spiral into a full blown anxiety attack.

“Hey, hey,” Rapunzel murmured, kneeling down just two feet away from Cassandra. “Cass, it’s me. It’s Rapunzel.”

Cassandra cowered beneath her fearfully. It was hard for Rapunzel to look into that blue eye.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Cass. You know that.” Rapunzel tried again.

“I-I don’t know who you are!” Cass cried. Tears etched rivulets of anguish down her pale cheeks. “Where am I? Where’s my mama? I want my mama!”

Rapunzel was stricken. She extended her hands to hug Cass and the girl shrieks. She throws herself to the ground, shielding her head with her arms, and begged Rapunzel not to hurt her, exclaiming that she was sorry.

“Hey, Cassandra.” Eugene has went to his girlfriend’s aid, kneeling beside her. “Nobody is going to hurt you...” He glanced around them- several people were hefting their weapons in their hands as if they were asking the crying girl for a reason to harm her. “You’re safe here.” He dared to add.

“No, no, no, no—” Cassandra babbled in terror. Her discolored fingers curl into her hair and pull as she shakes her head against the ground.

“...She was de-aged somehow.” Rapunzel whispered to Eugene. “Kinda like when we were in The House of Yesterday’s Tomorrow.”

“...But worse.” Eugene whispered back grimly. He looked down at Cass’ trembling form worriedly. “What happened?”

“...I don’t know! I thought everything was okay after we-...” Rapunzel’s words died off as Cassandra suddenly flung herself to her feet and began to run. “Cass!!”

The child didn’t get very far- several people jumped in her path with their weapons ready, clearly not caring if she was just a little girl. They only wanted to spill her blood in return for the destruction of their home and the murder of some of their people in that occurrence.

“Stop! Stop!” Rapunzel cried.

Cassandra looked around wildly and then made a beeline for Arianna. She clings to the woman’s dress, apparently finding the adult woman’s presence nurturing and safe. However, she didn’t think the same for her husband, which she met rather quickly when he protectively drove his boot into her stomach.

“Dad!” Rapunzel yelled.

“Frederic!” Arianna scolded.

Rapunzel propped Cassandra up in her arms as the girl gasped and wheezed from being kicked in the stomach. Her little body spasmed and shuddered in obvious pain, and it was only then that Rapunzel really noticed the burnt, black hole in her chest.

“Shh, shh,” Rapunzel held the child close to her protectively. “It’s okay. You’re okay...”

“I want my mama,” Cassandra wept. The tips of the Black Rocks are retracting in and out of her skin, and it makes Rapunzel’s stomach churn when she watches the skin split, mend, and then split again until it stops mending entirely and just leaves open scans along her arms.

“Sweetie,” Rapunzel cups one of Cassandra’s tear stained cheeks and makes her look at her. “Your mother isn’t...here right now, but I promise that you’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Cassandra is frozen for just a moment before she’s nuzzling into Rapunzel’s hand, which makes the princess momentarily wonder if this is actually her Cassandra. But then the girl opens her eyes and Rapunzel knows, even if there’s only one storm grey iris she’s grown to seeing left.

“Y-you will?” Cassandra squeaked. She sets her tiny, blackened hand on top of Rapunzel and clung to one of her fingers- the burnt skin is scratchy and rough against the princess’, almost like scales.

“I will.” Rapunzel said.

Such a thing would never be enough to assure adult (or past) Cassandra, but it seems to be enough for her younger self, because, all of a sudden, Rapunzel’s arms are occupied by the child trying to nuzzle her way into her lap and loving embrace.

“I’ve got you,” Rapunzel murmured as she carefully stood up. She felt Cassandra’s arms go around her neck, and a few impromptu soldiers flinch, ready to attack if any form of asphyxiation was attempted. She glowered at them.

“Is she okay?” Eugene asked, hurrying over. Cassandra buried her face against Rapunzel’s neck and whimpered at his presence, which he may have found funny and a victory for their ongoing feud against each other if it weren’t for the current circumstance—and that the feud didn’t seem to be happening again any time soon.

“She’s pretty shell shocked,” Rapunzel said. She shifts Cassandra in her arms and set one hand on her back of her head tenderly. “Can you hold her for a moment? I kinda have to, you know,” She nodded for the stone still hovering and glowing in the air.

“Right! Yeah, of course,” Eugene said and so quickly handed Cassandra, who only squeaks softly in a form of resistance. She stares of up at him with her big, teary, multicolored eyes. “Hey there.”

Cassandra just blinks. And then she sneezes and Black Rocks uproot themselves just behind Eugene. He leapt forward with a grimace and glared at the people who once again raised their weapons to hurt Cassandra.

“That’s, uhh, new.” He said. “And so are these roots! Now THAT is a fashion statement.”

His attempt at humor works in his favor when Cassandra giggled softly. That, however, is cut off by a frightened squeal when crackles burst from where Rapunzel is standing. She burrowed her face against Eugene’s chest and Eugene set one hand over her hand protectively. A moment later, the magical surge dies down and Rapunzel steps back with the stone held securely in her fist. She’s quick to take Cassandra back into her arms.

“Princess,” Someone spoke up- Monty. His soft, friendly features were replaced with hatred and anger. “What are you doing with that filth?”

“I’m taking her inside,” Rapunzel replied fiercely.

“Even after what she’s done to your home?” Adira joined in with a wide gesture to all the damage around them. Cassandra blinked at her with wide eyes and Adira can’t even look at the discoloration in her irises. It sickens the warrior.

“I will decide her fate tomorrow.” Rapunzel announced. “Come to the courtyard at dawn. You will hear the news then.” She said this with the firmest voice she could muster, hoping to convince the people of her giving Cassandra a demise in the torture dungeon to make them lay off for the moment, and it seemed to work. “We will also discuss the affairs and repairs of our home. But for now, rest. You all were very brave today.”

With that, Rapunzel turned and strode inside, Eugene following after her quickly. In her arms, she feels Cassandra tense up and whimper, but she just assumed it was out of fear and gently rubbed her back to soothe her. Perhaps she would have known what was really causing Cassandra distress or, rather, pain if her unruly hair wasn’t covering up the small, ram-like horn buds slowly inching their way out of her skull.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 9)

The first time she had gotten in trouble, that she remembers is when she had wandered down to the beach without asking first.

It probably wouldn’t have been so bad had she not wandered away from the beach and onto the boardwalk as well. She couldn’t help it, the sights, the sounds, the smells...they were all so enticing. There was a cacophony of them and they each called to her. The first sense that had enticed her to wander further from the lighthouse was the smell of cotton candy and an aroma of grilled hamburgers. This was a time before La-bsters had truly been established. She’d been able to resist until the scent of ice cream added itself to the mix. At this, a five year old Azula was sold.

On stubby and wobbly toddler legs, she shuffled alarmingly fast towards the bustle of the piers where she was greeted with an almost overwhelming bombarding of sensory cues. The clang of a bell on the hour as sailors changed shifts and docked and hustled about. She heard the spray of water on wood as teenage boys hosed and scrubbed the piers down and the ruckus of rope sliding and frustrated cussing while a team of girls and boys helped anchor and clean newly home boats. She could hear waves smacking against the columns holding the boardwalk up and the shouts of merchants as they fought for tourist money. She could hear the bickerings of lost tourists and the cheerful yelps one one of them spotted a dolphin that had swam too close to the summertime traffic. She heard the sizzle of a grill and the rush of a bike as it whizzed past.

It was a myriad of brand new sights as well. Palm fronds, she first heard the earthy rustle of them brushing against one another, flapped in a hot breeze. Strings of light in all colors, but mostly a golden-yellow illuminated restaurant patios and curled around palms. There were dancers in beaded skirts with shell anklets and men and women eating fire. There were fireworks that blotted out loud reggeaton music and a large and slowly turning faris wheel. There were bikes and rollerskates of many brands and toned teens carrying surfboards, discussing final summer plans and how they weren’t quite ready to go back to Port Tui-La High. Vendors sold rapidly blinking, flashing lights of blue, green, and red. The LED contraptions were hats, wands, and cheap jewelry. The same vendor sold glow sticks and wore two arms full of them and several necklaces of them. All across the boardwalk she spotted kids with them and she wanted one of her own.

But she hadn’t the money, she hadn’t even the conception of money. Not that it was much of a problem. The vendor patted her on the head and handed her several glow sticks. He told her to thank her father for running the lighthouse and looking out for the sailors. His son was a sailor.

In retrospect, it was probably he who’d phoned the lighthouse to let her parents know that she was wandering the boardwalk unattended. He bribed her to stay put with a large ice cream cone and a plate of onion rings. She’d sat their kicking her legs on a stool that was much too tall for her.

That was how she met Toph. Evidently, the girl also stumbled away from her parents. Though this was an accident. The three year old, born blind, had lost hold of her father’s hand and then lost all bearings.

The poor vendor had his hands full that night. Azula doesn’t remember what they’d talked about but she remembers not quite grasping what it meant to be blind and kept trying to show the girl lights with different brightnesses, hoping that if she found something bright enough, Toph would see it.

Ursa showed up before Poppy BeiFong and refused to let her stay and talk, because she was in a lot of trouble. Once home Zuko chuckled as she received her second scolding and Ozai sent her to bed with a promise that she’d be spending the next several days in her room instead of on the beach with Zuko and Ursa.

She probably wouldn’t have gotten in so much trouble had she chose to take her excursion in daylight hours.

.oOo.

His arms are folded over his chest and he wears a decent scowl. Zuko can tell that she wants to shout at him, to tell him that, maybe if he’d been home she would have been able to tell him that she was leaving. She knows, as well as he does, better than to talk back to him.

“When was I supposed to have done that?” She mutters despite her knowing. “Perhaps when we had lunch?”

Their father’s face is split between hurt and anger.

“I’m going to find Sokka. Zuko can’t stop me and you can’t stop me either.” She pulls out of his embrace. He is reminded again of how close she and Ozai used to be, it is in her posture and on her expression. They fold their arms the same way, they shoot the same glare at each other, with the same creased brows and the same frown. The same, sturdy and stubborn stances.

Stand offs between the two, though rare, never end well. Especially not for Azula. Zuko firmly grips her shoulder and mutters, “please just let him have the last word for once.”

She shrugs him off. “No. Not this time.” Azula grumbles. “I’m tired of doing his job for him while he goes off and fucks around in some soddy bar! I don’t want to spend another summer upkeeping the lighthouse instead of going to pool and beach parties. I don’t want to manage his finances…”

“Azula.” Ozai growls. It is a warning. The one Zuko usually receives before earning himself a solid slap.

“You made me a promise.” Azula declares. “You said that we’d spend the day together, like we used to.”

He can hear the hurt in her voice and suddenly he understands why she is so eager to leave. He doesn’t think that it is just about Sokka. If things can’t be how they used to, she’d rather forget them entirely and start something new.

“I am your father, I give the orders. You life in my house and under my rules.”

She gives a sarcastic and bitter laugh. “Is it your house?” She asks. “I work for it, I pay the bills.” She looks to him, “we pay the bills. Right, Zuko?”

Zuko swallows, he doesn’t want to get on either of their bad sides. No matter what he says he will find himself on someone’s bad side and if he says nothing at all, both of them will look down on him. So he supposes that he might as well state the truth. He nods, “we’ve been keeping the lighthouse together.”

Ozai’s upper lip twitches into a scowl. “The both of you wouldn’t have that lighthouse to live in if not for…”

“Great grandfather Sozin.” Azula cuts him off. Both he and Katara flinch as Ozai’s hand lurches forward. He must not have had that many drinks because he doesn’t strike her. Though he grabs her wrist with a much stronger grip than necessary.

Katara seems to relax but he is no less tense. He has seen Azula take on their father before. She’d done it when he was in one of his drunken rages. And she’d done it on his behalf. Mostly Zuko took the brunt of Ozai’s drunk aggression. That time Azula had taken it for him. They’d gone to a party...snuck out to it. At first he’d claimed that he had been worried when he’d come home to an empty lighthouse. But that worry turned to anger all too quickly. Words that he can’t quite recall had been exchanged. But he does remember one thing. He remembers Azula yelling, “maybe if you did make her mad, she wouldn’t have gone sailing that day.” Something had snapped and soon Azula was on the floor, the corner of her mouth split and her jaw already swelling. Zuko remembers her shaking and Chan coming to step in front of her as Ozai loomed closer. Chan could only do so much, he found himself on the floor next to her before she was yanked to her feet and practically dragged across the beach in front of the entire party.

Azula hardly ever cries. And never in front of people. That night she was weeping as he tugged her along, she’d stumbled and tripped in an attempt to keep him from dragging him any further.

He was arrested that night and he’d very nearly lost custody of them.

Everyone knows better than to talk about it. Azula likes to pretend like it hadn’t happened at all.

Zuko knows that this is why Azula has gone quiet. Why her hand his shaking in their father’s hold. Why she is looking up at him with dread and anger. Something flickers in his eyes and he drops her hand. She hastily retracts it and rubs her wrist with her other hand. Zuko can tell that it is already reddening, that it will probably be bruised by tomorrow.

He can now tell that their father is at least a little intoxicated. But not enough for it to not register, that he’d hurt her. “Azula…” he begins.

She is athletic. She is fast. When she runs, she won’t be caught. Zuko has never seen her run so fast, even the sand doesn’t hinder her as she kicks up clouds of it. He doesn’t know where she is going and he isn’t sure that she knows either. She just wants to get away from Ozai.

Katara wraps her arms around Zuko, her eyes are tearful.

.oOo.

Ozai watches her bolt down the beach. He thinks to give chase but decides that it is better if he doesn’t.  He rubs his hand over his face. He was only angry because he thought that he was going to lose her. He couldn’t lose her. But he has.

He loses everything he loves and maybe he should just let her go.

He tries not to think of the night that he was arrested, but that night is etched into his mind. He thinks about it more often than not. Her face; how utterly shocked and horrified she had looked, staring up at him from the floor.

There was no sense of pride or power in seeing that terror on her face. There was only shame. But at that time, shame turned to anger and he was yanking her across the beach as she kicked and screamed. He is certain that she had pleaded with him to stop, told him that he was hurting her, but most of the night is a blur.

He recalls having dragged her across the beach.

It was after that night that she began looking at him differently. With mistrust and sometimes barely concealed fear. She mostly avoided him in the months to follow and she hasn’t entirely warmed back up to him, not that he has made it easy.

“I can go after her.” Katara offers.

Zuko nods, “Yeah it’s probably better if you do it.”

Ozai rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wishes that things could be the way they used to be. He wishes that his children wouldn’t look upon him with dread. Katara makes her way in the direction that Azula had fled.

“Zuko.” He begins.

Zuko only shakes his head, “I’m going to visit Mai or TyLee.” He doesn’t look him in the eyes as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and starts for the pier.

Ozai looks at the boat bobbing in the water. Is he really so bad that they had to run?

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (12/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : Nothing in particular.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 12/? (3386 words)

Author’s notes : Final episode of the second act, part one ! Those episodes will be longer than the others, hope you’ll like them either way !

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

It was a strange feeling, watching over the kettle as a very tense immortal was sitting on my couch, seemingly engaged in a vicious battle of looks with my cat, himself sitting on the end of the bar. At least, his attention wasn't focused on the very pink dressing robe I slipped into as soon as I got inside. Leah bought it for me as a joke, but it was actually very comfortable. Vlad didn't comment on it, but I caught him hiding a laugh with a cough when I came out of my room, wrapped in it.

“Do you drink tea ? I mean, I know what you drink, but can you even drink or eat normal things, for all that matter ?”

“Eating regular food males me sick”, he answered, still fixated on the animal rather than me. “I can, however, enjoy a drink or two.”

“Good.”

I got two mismatched cups – the only ones available –, and filled them both. I handed him one, which finally had him turn his attention to me. His cool fingers brushed against mine as he took it.

“Careful, it's hot.”

“Half an hour ago, you accused me of multiple murders, and now you worry I might burn myself ?”, he laughed.

I sat on the other end of the couch, sneering at him. He had a point. I stared at my cup, bobbing the tea bag as if it made any difference.

“I am far from complaining, but why did you invite me in ?”

I tried finding my words, remaining silent a moment. He didn't press, politely waiting for an answer, giving intermittent looks to the cat.

“I... Haven't slept in days, Vlad.” I started, fighting against tears welling up. “Every time I close my eyes, I see them. I find myself jumping at every noise, every shadow in the corner of my eye, I-”

I only noticed how much my hands were shaking when he took my cup, and set it on the table along with his.

“When I believed it was you, I had at least the hope that you wouldn't hurt me, or Leah, or someone I care about. Now I...” I took a pause to take a breath. “I'm terrified.”

I risked a look. His brow was furrowed, but he had a little smile.

“If you let me in for that reason, you really must be desperate.”

I tried to laugh, but it got caught in my throat.

“Eris, you have to go to sleep. MINA tried to scare you. For all you know, they could have lied to make you talk.” He took my hand in his. “I am surprised, but glad you did not.”

He leaned over to catch my gaze. A feeling of peace washed over me as I looked into his eyes. I wondered if he could do that. Manipulate my emotions, just like that. I didn't have the time to wonder for long, as he suddenly picked me up in his arms. I had a squeal of surprise, and threw my arms around his neck as a reflex.

“Vlad, what-”

“You need a good night of sleep, you look less alive than I do.”

His tone was firm, but still tainted by amusement. “Well, that's ironic. And I don't need to be carried, I can still walk !” My protests were only met with a grin.

“I know, but I can hear your heartbeats, and I like to have my fun.”

I felt my cheeks burning up instantly. He stepped into my room, and laid me down on my bed. I slipped under the covers and he sat next to me, glancing around in the semi darkness. As soon as the sun set, I never turned off the set of fairy lights running across the walls, bathing the room in an ultraviolet light. His shirt was glowing, and I couldn't help but wonder what his teeth would look like.

“Can you tell me a story ?”, I asked.

He smiled, brushed a few strands of hair out of my face. My heart stopped a second, while he seemed to think a moment.

“Did I ever tell you about my first voyage into the New World ?”, he began. I shook my head, while he kept softly running his hands through my hair.

He did have a talent for narration. His voice was soothing, and as the story went on, I found myself drifting, along the waves surrounding the frigate, the wind in the sails, the first cries of seagulls as they reached the shore. He talked softly at first, but was soon caught in his own tale, and I couldn't help but smile at the passion in his tone. He started to fade, and I rested my eyes, just a second.

~ ~ ~

A familiar smell dragged me out of my sleep, and I blinked off my drowsiness, slowly sitting up. After a glance at my phone, I noticed it was already past 10am. Most sleep than I had in the whole week. I stood up, and turned off the fairy lights. Stumbling to my living room, I was surprised to not hear my cat's screaming, but a cheerful, definetly human chatter.I found Vlad sitting behind the bar, and Leah, at the stove, flipping pancakes, her hair shining like pale gold under the sunlight.

“Hah, told you food would wake her up”, she told Vlad, smiling. “Grab a plate, honey, you'll need strength for today !”

“What's today ?”, I asked, a bit confused.

“Renaissance faire, don't tell me you forgot !”

Ah, right. I had to admit some of the recent events took my mind off it. It might be a good distraction, now that I thought about it. I sat at the bar, and thanked Leah as she put a pile of warm pancakes on my plate, handing me a bottle of maple syrup, and a cup of steaming coffee.

“Well, good thing Vlad has a better memory than you, because apparently, he picked up some outfits”, Leah told me as she finished up her batch.

Oh no. That wasn't good.

“Can't we just go like that ?”, I asked, delving into the breakfast. As always, it was amazing, the absolute perfect balance in taste and fluffiness, an just warm enough. God, I had to marry her at some point.

“Are you kidding ?”, she indignated herself. “No way. Finish up and we're dressing up.”

Vlad was quietly laughing, and I gave him a killer look, to which he only responded with a wink. With a glance around the room, I noticed two large leather suitcases, probably holding the outfits. As soon as I was half done, Leah excitedly dragged me back to my room, as Vlad helped bring the suitcases in. He then left, closing the door.

“Ooh, this is going to be so much fun !”, she exclaimed, opening the first case. “This is yours, and the other is mine. We'll do you first, come on, get naked !”

I sighed, knowing protests wouldn't do much of anything when she was in that sort of mood. She threw an embroidered, white linen chemise, that she insisted I wore no bra with, because “the corset will do the job fine”. For fuck's sake, corsets. I glanced at the wooden box on my desk, holding the gun. As soon as this was done, I would shoot him.

The corset wasn't so bad, to be fair. Leah took care of lacing it loosely enough so that I wouldn't faint at the first occasion, and the back support actually made it comfortable. Dressing up in the whole thing was pretty fun, even with the struggle of lacing up everything, making sure the many layers sat right in place and the overall weight of the whole costume. The fabrics were soft, finely threaded, the silk shifting colors and patterns in the light. If they weren't “originals”, they had to have cost more than a year of my doctorate scholarship. If they were, well, as a historian, I had to say they were pretty much invaluable. Not an edge frayed, a thread misplaced. They looked almost brand new, yet I was certain none of the sewing was done by machine.

“This is great, where do you think he even found those ? Do you think those are reproductions, for his work ?”, she asked as she did my hair.

“I... Maybe. That would make sense. He must have picked them up while he was back in Romania.” God, I hope it was that, and not a dress from someone he ate back in the 16th century.

Trying not to think too much about it, I helped Leah get into her dress. I had to say, he had some taste. Hers had an overall pastel tone, in blues and greens, the hem of the skirt embroidered with small flowers, climbing like vines along the slits in the fabric, revealing a pale silver-ish blue silk underskirt. She looked absolutely radiant, and I took some time braiding her hair up, leaving strands here and there. She could have been a flower nymph. I was a bit more surprised by the color scheme he chose for me. The dress was in a rich golden tone, patterned in arabesques and embroidered in dark red thread. In a small box, I found pearl necklaces, hairpieces and earrings. Fuck, he went all the way into this. I mean, being immortal had to do wonders for your bank account, but still.

“Come on, I'm going first, I wanna see the look on his face when he sees you!”

Not leaving me the luxury of protesting, she slipped away, leaving me to put on the shoes he picked for me. Covered with silk, embroidered in gold thread, and, to my demise, heels. Not that high, but he still broke his damn promise. Can't trust men on anything. Leah called me over, and I sighed, preparing myself mentally. It was way more complicated to walk in this than the 19th century skirt – which I kept, after a trip to the dry cleaner's –. I glanced at the box on my desk again. I opened the lid, considering the ornate weapon a moment. I had no guarantee that this would even work. I had no reason to distrust Vlad at this point, not much more than before, anyway. However, if I was right, if MINA was right on at least the nature of the murderer running free... Fumbling around to find the slit in my underskirt, I slipped the gun in the large pocket attached inside. Now that I thought about it, it was rather infuriating that period clothing had more pocket space than our modern stuff, and they didn't even have smartphones to carry around.

When I stepped in the living room, Vlad had changed in his own outfit. Mostly black, with navy blue and silver highlights in embroidery. Across his chest, a livery collar bearing the enameled sigil of House Draculesti, and the Wallachian coat of arms. He had a soft “Ah” when he saw me, and didn't say anything for a while. I flattened the pleats of the skirt, nervously waiting for some kind of comment.

“Well ?”, Leah asked him, a mischievous smile on her lips. He seemed to finally snap out of it, taking a breath as if he had been holding it.

“This is fine. I'm glad it suits you”, he told me after clearing his throat. “Although, it misses something.”

He picked up a box on the table, handing it to me. I opened it to find what could only be described as the most dramatic statement necklace I'd ever seen in my damn life. The center piece was a red stone, the size of a small plum, encased in intricate gold work, and surrounded by pearls and other smaller stones. The rest of it was other stones, bound together by gold chains and pearls.

“What the fuck”, I couldn't help but breathe out.

Vlad took it out of the box, slipped behind me, and set it on my chest, the cool metal against my skin sending a shiver down my spine.

“Believe it or not, it was my mother's”, he told me as he worked the clasp.

“Vlad, are those real ?”, I enquired, containing a nervous laughter.

“Depends on how nervous my answer will make you.”

He had to think this was hilarious. Fucking rich people, I swear. “Very nervous.”

“They are fake, then.”

As he left, he negligently had a hand trail along my back. Leah obviously noticed, as I saw her eyes glimmering with evil intent from across the room.

“Now that we all are hot and ready, we should get going ! I don't wanna miss the joust !”, she exclaimed.

Of course, there would be a joust. I didn't even look at the program. I bid goodbye to Zardoz, burying my face into his fluffy belly, while ignoring his meows of protest, and we all left. I was almost expecting Vlad to have traded his Jaguar for a horse-drawn carriage at this point. He disappointedly did not, and Leah dragged me into the backseat. The whole drive to the small town, Leah told us about the programmed activities from a leaflet she printed out, giving us the very strict schedule she came up with so that we wouldn't miss anything.

While she exposed her thorough research, I let my eyes drift along the countryside's landscape. Even if we were still early in the year, most trees had regained their leaves. The sky was a pale blue, and if the air was a bit chilly, given how many layers of clothing we were wearing, that wasn't so bad. Vlad had even prepared capes for the evening, which was weirdly thoughtful.

I only went a few times to the city we were headed for. It was built around the 13th century, and most of the buildings ranged from that time to the 17th century. It was rather small, isolated, on top of a hill, which was pretty impressive in the overall flat landscape. About two or three times a year, they hosted medieval themed gatherings, encouraging people to come in costume, or rent some. Most of the town's activity was artisanal, and the main income was through tourism, which was fairly well developed. Going there truly felt like going back in time, as they made a big deal of using as little modern technology as possible, to give the “most authentic medieval experience of the country”. As such, it was an almost unavoidable checkpoint for every medieval history student in my university, and trips were organized every year, for the midsummer fest. I actually dreaded meeting some of my students today. I knew I would get no peace for months if I was spotted wearing that outfit.

We stopped a little outside the city, in a dedicated parking lot. There was a little train to make the rest of the way, all in favor of authenticity. That bothered Vlad a little, and he ranted about how if they wanted historical accuracy, they should have brought a hay cart and horses, that steam-powered locomotives were only invented well into the 18th century. When Leah told him this train was actually electric, he let out an outraged scoff. Oh, he was going to be unbearable the whole day, wasn't he ?

We took the historically incorrect train, getting some compliments from the crew, themselves in costume. I think they assumed we were actors hired by the city, which Leah played into with enthusiasm. She got used to her attire pretty quick, including the heels, which was much more than I could say for myself. As we went onto the cobblestone streets, she had no trouble trotting about, I had to hold onto Vlad's arm not to risk breaking an ankle, which seemed to delight him. I couldn't say I completely hated it either.

Every time we crossed a group of actors, we chatted a bit, and he spent the ten minutes following each encounter pointing out the inaccuracies in their costumes. He punctuated it with anecdotes of his time in Italy in the 1550s, which had Leah think he was really into character. When he talked about his affair with a Leonardo da Vinci, she burst out laughing, and he gave me a sideway glance, perfectly knowing I couldn't lose my mind until we were alone. It seemed like he had done everything, witnessed every historical moment from the day he died to the 19th century. According to what he had told me, his assassination attempt had him miss most of the 1900s, including both World Wars, which he was pretty pissed about when he finally rose again in 1953.

Even if he complained about details, I could tell he genuinely enjoyed the occasion. The way he carried himself inspired confidence, a hand on the pommel of his sword, the other arm focused on helping me stay in a relatively upright position. I got used to the shoes faster than I thought, but kept on pretending to be terribly at risk. I think he knew, but still kept playing into it.

At around noon, we arrived at the jousting lists, which took place underneath the city walls. Even Vlad had pretty much nothing to say against it, but then again, he hadn't made a comment in a while, only focusing on entertaining us with his anecdotes. Against the walls, they had built stands and placed chairs and benches. A couple, posing as King and Queen, were seated in a podium, a bit higher than the rest. Vlad suddenly excused himself, telling us to take a seat without him. Before he left, he handed me a fine square of silk, embroidered in red and gold. I took it, confused, but before I could ask for explanations, Leah caught my arm and dragged me off. Suspecting she was somehow in on this, I took a seat, keeping my eyes peeled for any incoming fuckery.

“So, apparently, this is actual jousting”, Leah told me, reading a pamphlet she picked up at the reception booth earlier.

“What do you mean, actual jousting ?”

“There's an equestrian center near here that has a jousting program, this doubles as a competition”, she clarified, visibly excited. “Not that there's a lot of them, but some of the contenders are coming from all over Europe, from what that thing says ! That's why I didn't want to miss it !”

Well, this faire surely took off in the last couple of years. Now that I thought about it, historical reenactment was getting pretty popular, these days. I couldn't help but worry, though, knowing how many horrific jousting accidents there had been in history, killing nobodies and Kings alike. Trumpets announced the beginning of the tournament, and the crowd started cheering. The bleachers were full, and a lot of people were standing on the sidelines to watch the show. An announcer started a little presentation, confirming that the jousting would not be acting, but an actual professional competition. Contenders came from Germany, Hungary, Italy and Switzerland, which didn't surprise me all that much, given the overall enthusiasm for medieval history in those countries.

The first contenders arrived, in full armor, their horses pawing at the ground, raising clouds of dust. They passed each other a few times, just for show, then were given their lances. Under the raging cheers of the crowd, they spurred their horses, and rammed into each other's shields a first time, went around, and back again. This time, one was thrown off his mount, his opponent's lance breaking in the process, and crashed into the sand in a clatter of metal. The victor raised the remains of his spear under the acclamations of the public.

A couple of more contenders confronted each other, sporting their country's colors. At some point, however, a rider came into the field, mounted on a dark horse, wearing a  dark armor, which I didn't take long to recognize. Blackened iron, gilded, and chiseled, battle-worn, but still gloriously shining under the midday sun. On the chest piece, stylized, the very recognizable coat of arms of House Draculesti of Wallachia.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder @festering-queen @paracosmfantasy @lost-girl-inc

[contrariian-archive]

HOZIER’S  “WASTELAND, BABY!” SENTENCE STARTERS

feel free to change pronouns, etc!

NINA CRIED POWER

‘ it’s not the waking, it’s the rising. ’ ‘ it is the grounding of a foot uncompromising. ’ ‘ it’s not forgoing of the lie, it’s not the opening of eyes. ’ ‘ it’s not the shade; we should be past it. it’s the light, and it’s the obstacle that casts it. ’ ‘ it’s the heat that drives the light. ’ ‘ it’s the heaven of a human spirit ringing. ’ ‘ and i could cry power. ’   ‘ it’s not the wall, but what’s behind it. ’ ‘ power has been cried by those stronger than me, straight into the face that tells you to rattle your chains if you love being free. ’

ALMOST (SWEET MUSIC)

‘ i came in from the outside, burned out from a joyride. ’ ‘ the same kind of music haunts her bedroom. ’ ‘ i’m almost me again. ’ ‘ i’m almost me again. she’s almost you. ’ ‘ i wouldn’t know where to start. ’ ‘ be still my foolish heart. ’ ‘ don’t ruin this on me. ’ ‘ let’s get lost and let the good times roll. ’ ‘ let’s smoke rings from this paper doll. ’ ‘ i got some color back. ’ ‘ i laugh like me again, she laughs like you. ’ ‘ the very thought of you, and i am blue. ’ ‘ i get along without you very well some other nights. ’

MOVEMENT

‘ i still watch you when you’re grooving. ’ ‘  you’re moving without moving. ’ ‘ when you move, i’m moved. ’ ‘ you are a call to motion. ’ ‘ when you move, i’m put to mind of all that i wanna be. ’ ‘ i could never define all that you are to me. ’ ‘ move me, baby. ’ ‘ you do it naturally. ’ ‘ honey, you’re atlas in his sleeping. ’ ‘ i recall something that’s gone from me. ’ ‘ when you move, i’m put in awe of something so flawed and free. ’

NO PLAN

‘ what a waste to say the heart could feel apart, or feel complete. ’ ‘ why would you make out of words a cage for your own bird, when it sings so sweet the screaming, heaving fuckery of the world? ’ ‘ why would you offer a name to the same old tired pain? ’ ‘ all things come from nothing. ’ ‘ my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand. ’ ‘ i know now that you understand. ’ ‘ there’s no plan. ’ ‘ there’s no race to be run. ’ ‘ the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun. ’ ‘ there’s no kingdom to come. ’ ‘ i’ll be your man if you got love to get done. ’ ‘ sit in and watch the sunlight fade. ’ ‘ it’s getting late. ’ ‘ there’s no hand on the rein. ’ ‘ as mack explained, there will be darkness again. ’ ‘ let the awful song be heard. ’ ‘ i know your beat, baby. ’ ‘ your secret is safe with me. ’ ‘ if secrets were like seeds, keep my body from the fire, hire a gardener for my grave. ’ ‘ if secrets were like seeds, when i’m lying under marble, marvel at flowers you’ll have made. ’

NOBODY

‘ it’s gin o’clock. ’ ‘ i think about you everywhere i go. ’ ‘ i’ve done everything and i’ve been everywhere. ’ ‘ i’ve been fed gold by sweet fools. ’ ‘ i’ve had no love like your love from nobody. ’ ‘ i’d be appalled if i saw you ever try to be a saint. ’ ‘ i wouldn’t fall for someone i thought couldn’t misbehave. ’ ‘ i once warmed my hands over a burning maserati. ’ ‘ why should we deny the truth? ’ ‘ we could have less to worry about  —  i won’t lie to you. ’

TO NOISE MAKING (SING)

‘ remember when you’d sing just for the fuck of it? ’ ‘ the look of it was as sweet as the sound. ’ ‘ i couldn’t name that feeling carried in that voice  —  was it that, or just the act of making noise that brought you joy? ’ ‘ you don’t have to sing it right, but who could call you wrong? ’ ‘ put your emptiness to melody, your awful heart to song. ’ ‘ you don’t have to sing it right. ’ ‘ you don’t have to sing it right, but sing it strong. ’ ‘ at best, you’ll find a little remedy. ’ ‘ at worst, the world will sing along. ’ ‘ we’d scuff up our shoes. ’ ‘ you didn’t always sing it right. ’ ‘ who could ask you to be unbroken or be brave again? ’ ‘ be unbroken. ’ ‘ be brave again. ’ ‘ who could ask you to be sound or to feel saved again? ’ ‘ stick around until you hear that music play again. ’ ‘ so honey, sing. ’ ‘ sing. ’ ‘ remember when you’d sing just for the love of it? and any joy it would bring? ’

AS IT WAS 

‘ there is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved, whenever i’d have life enough, my heart is screaming of. ’ ‘ and in a few days, i would be there, love. ’ ‘ whatever here that’s left of me is yours. ’ ‘ the highs hit the heights of my baby, and its hold had the fight of my baby. ’ ‘ the lights were as bright as my baby, ’ ‘ your love was unmoved. ’   ‘ tell me if, somehow, some of it remains, how long you would wait for me. ’ ‘ make your good love known to me. ’ ‘ tell me about your day. ’ ‘ and the nights were as dark as my baby, and half as beautiful too. ’

SHRIKE

‘ i couldn’t utter my love when it counted. ’ ‘ i couldn’t utter my love when it counted, but i’m singing like a bird about it now. ’ ‘ i’m singing like a bird about it now. ’ ‘ i couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted. ’ ‘ words hung above, but never would form  —  like a cry at the final breath that is drawn. ’ ‘ remember me. ’ ‘ remember me, love. ’ ‘ remember me, love, when i’m reborn as a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn. ’ ‘ i’d no idea on what ground i was founded. ’ ‘ all of that goodness is going with you now. ’ ‘ then, when i met you, my virtues uncounted  —  all of my goodness is going with you now. ’ ‘ all of my goodness is going with you now. ’ ‘ dragging along, following your form, hung like the pelt of some prey you had won. ’ ‘ i’m hung like the pelt of some prey you had one. ’ ‘ remember me when i’m reborn as a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn. ’ ‘ i fled to the city with so much discounted. ’ ‘ i fled to the city with so much discounted, but i’m flying like a bird to you now. ’ ‘ i’m flying like a bird to you now. ’ ‘ i’m flying like a bird to you now, back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted. ’ ‘ i was housed by your warmth. ’ ‘ i was thus transformed by your grounded and giving and darkening scorn. ’

TALK

‘ i’d be the voice that urged orpheus when her body was found. i’d be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground. ’ ‘ i’d be the dreadful need in the devotee. ’ ‘ i’d be the immediate forgiveness in eurydice. ’ ‘ imagine being loved by me. ’ ‘ i won’t deny  —  i’ve got in my mind now all the things i would do. ’ ‘ i try to talk refined for fear that you find out how i’m imagining you. ’ ‘ i’d be the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love. ’ ‘ i’d be the sweet feeling of release. ’

BE

‘ be as you’ve always been. ’ ‘ lover, be good to me. ’ ‘ be like the love that discovered the sin, that freed the first man and will do so again. ’ ‘ be that hopeful feeling when eden was lost. ’ ‘ it’s been deaf to our laughter since the master was crossed. ’ ‘ which side of the wall really suffers that cost? ’ ‘ be love in its disrepute. ’ ‘ love, in its disrepute, scorches the hillside and salts every root. ’ ‘ watch the slowing and starving of troops. ’ ‘ be like the rose that you hold in your hand, that will grow bold in a barren and desolate land. ’ ‘ love, won’t you be as you’ve always been? ’

DINNER & DIATRIBES

‘ this club here is stuck up. ’ ‘ i knew well from our first hookup the look of mischief in your eyes. ’ ‘ your friends are a fate that befell me. ’ ‘ hell is the talking type. ’ ‘ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ’ ‘ that’s the kind of love i’ve been dreaming of. ’ ‘ honey, i laugh when it sinks in. ’ ‘ the evening is slowing. ’ ‘ the end is in sight. ’ ‘ it’s easier knowing what you’d do to me tonight. ’ ‘ let there be hotel complaints and grievances raised. ’ ‘ let there be damage ensued and tabloid news. ’

WOULD THAT I 

‘ i saw your hair like the branch of a tree  — a willow dancing on air before covering me. ’ ‘ that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me. ’ ‘ the sound of the saw must be known by the tree. ’ ‘ i fretted fire, but that was long ago. ’ ‘ i blink in sight of your blinding light. ’ ‘ it’s not tonight where you hold me tight. ’ ‘ you’re good to me. ’ ‘ with the roar of the fire, my heart rose to its feet. ’ ‘ like the ashes of ash, i saw rise in the heat. ’ ‘ i fell in love with the fire long ago. ’ ‘ with each love i cut loose, i was never the same. ’ ‘ i’m watching still-living roots be consumed by the flame. ’ ‘ i was fixed on your hand of gold laying waste to my loving long ago. ’ ‘ in awe, there i stood. ’ ‘ though i’ve handled the wood, i still worship the flame. ’ ‘ as long as the amber of ember glows, all the would that i’d loved is long ago. ’

SUNLIGHT 

‘ i would shun the light. ’ ‘ share in evening’s cool and quiet. ’ ‘ who would trade that hum of night for sunlight? ’ ‘ but whose heart would not take flight? ’ ‘ but whose heart would not take flight, betray the moon as acolyte, on first and fierce affirming sight of sunlight? ’ ‘ i’d been lost to you. ’ ‘ i flew like a moth to you. ’ ‘ oh, your love is sunlight. ’ ‘ all the tales the same, told before and told again. ’ ‘ a soul that’s born in cold and rain knows sunlight. ’ ‘ oh, my sunlight. ’ ‘ all that was shown to me, sunlight, was something foreknown to me. ’ ‘ all these colors fade for you only. ’ ‘ hold me. ’ ‘ carry me slowly. ’ ‘ each day, you’d rise with me. ’ ‘ know that i would gladly be the icarus to your certainty. ’ ‘ strap the wing to me. death trap-clad, happily, with wax melted, i’d meet the sea. ’

WASTELAND, BABY!

‘ all the fear and the fire of the end of the world happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl. happens great, happens sweet. ’ ‘ happily, i’m unfazed here, too. ’ ‘ wasteland baby, i’m in love with you. ’ ‘ baby, i’m in love with you. ’ ‘ all the things yet to come are the things that have passed: like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass. ’ ‘ i’m in love with you. ’ ‘ and i love too that love soon might end. ’ ‘ be still, my indelible friend. you are unbreaking. ’ ‘ you are unbreaking, though quaking. ’ ‘ that day that we watch the death of the sun; the cloud and the cold and those jeans you have on. ’ ‘ you gaze unafraid as they sob from the city ruins. ’ ‘ the stench of the sea and the absence of green are the death of all things that are seen and unseen. ’ ‘ not an end, but the start of all things that are left to do. ’ ‘ that’s it. ’

[writingamongtheroses-archive]

The Daughters of Baba Yaga

(Genre: Fantasy. Warning: Death, Blood) @ursamaaajor

Once upon a time, in a woods deep and dark in a land of souls, there was a witch.

The witch was the Baba Yaga. She developed a fascination with the trees of the woods, called Candles. This was because they produced a dark oil that looked like blood. But the source of her fascination was because they had once been people.

They were travelers, pilgrims, all turned into trees by the Beast- a dark shadowy spirit who sang his song as he walked through his woods. Those who had lost all hope turned to wood as they listened to his song. The only thing that remained of them was their faces, eyes closed and mouths opened in silent screams of despair.

The Baba Yaga had three daughters. Each of them had a magical gift of their own.

The first was Belle. The loveliest of her sisters, she could cast balls of light and create illusions of comfort and home. The second was Mary, the ugliest. She was a potion brewer, able to create poisons of different degrees.

The youngest was Cora. She was pretty, the balance between her sisters. She had a beautiful singing voice, but her true talent was in her ability to create. She could craft anything. One of the things she created was a beautiful silver lantern, which she used to light her way through the woods.

The Baba Yaga used her daughters' talents and sent Belle and Cora into the woods. She ignored Mary as she used her daughters to lure outsiders deep into the woods. In pleasure, she watched as the people they lured gave into despair and turned into trees.

The two sent into the woods hated their mother and their horrible task. The ignored one loved her mother more in her attempts to get her love. Finally, Belle managed to escape her mother. She ran into the woods and disappeared.

For years, Belle used her magic to guide people out of the woods. Baba Yaga gnashed her teeth in anger at the loss of her daughter and the lessening of her sadistic entertainment. Mary became useful as she helped her mother try every spell to find the missing girl.

Finally, she was found.

Baba Yaga dragged Belle home by her hair. In the firelight in their home, she slowly killed her daughter. Mary watched, uncertain glee lighting up in her eyes. Cora, now a young woman, quickly turned away and covered her ears.

But nothing could stop the screams.

The witch's intentions had been to make her daughter suffer, planning to kill her and turn her into a beautiful Candle. This would be a tree she would admire forever and a warning to her other two daughters. But it was not to be.

As Belle gave her last breath, she transformed.

Not into a tree.

No, she turned into beautiful white feathers, all gleaming with their own light. A breeze took hold of them and they flew out the window. All three ran out, Cora holding her lantern up high as they watched.

The feathers continued to fly up into the moonlit night, twirling as if in a silent dance. They disappeared among the clouds and Belle was gone forever. Baba Yaga gnashed her teeth and turning back into the house, blind with fury. Mary quickly followed.

Cora lingered, staring at the sky. A wind blew past, ruffling her blonde curls and bringing notes of a song to her ears. Her gaze turned from the sky to the woods as the Beast continued to sing. A small smile crossed her face.

She had an idea.

It took several weeks for this plan to start. A week out of every month, Baba Yaga would leave her daughters at home to pick secret herbs. It was near the end of autumn when she left for her trip, still angry at the loss of Belle.

When she was out of sight, she set to work. Cora pulled on flats and a dress, giving off the illusion she was going on a walk. Ignoring Mary's questions, she pulled on her dark cloak and picked up her faithful lantern. She closed the door behind her.

She walked to the edge of the clearing and paused.

She stepped into the woods.

~'~'~

It was unknown how long Cora wandered through the woods, calling for the Beast.

All agreed that winter started as she walked through the woods. Her voice grew hoarse as her lantern lit her way. A blizzard began one day and she was forced to wander through it, snow soaking through her flats as she tried desperately to keep her hood on.

Finally, exhaustion claimed her. She fell, cushioned by snow. The last thing she saw was darkness, reaching for her.

When Cora awoke, it was night and she was still alive. Her lantern was sputtering weakly. She picked it up with frozen fingers and looked up. She was hoarse and it wasn't much of a scream. But what would you do if the Beast was looking down at you?

"You are an odd one," he said. "Others wander the Woods in hope of never meeting of me. Yet you wander while calling for me." He cocked his head like a cat, staring down at her with white sockets.

He was clad in shadows, little more than a silhouette. She could see what looked like a tattered scarf flutter in the breeze and antlers. His limbs were spindly thin. Cora sat up, drawing her cloak around her. The blizzard had stopped.

"I...I have an offer for you."

She managed to stand, brushing off her skirt. The Beast watched her. "The Baba Yaga has killed my sister. She keeps turning people into trees. I can help you kill her."

"Interesting. Why would I have any interest in killing the old witch?"

"Because she keeps taking away your victims. I am her daughter. I know her secrets. If we work together, she can die." She hefted her lantern in one hand and held out the other. "What do you say?"

"What can you do for me?"

She blinked. "I...You can have the pleasure of killing your own victims? Does that work?"

"It is not enough girl." He turned to leave. All the storytellers agree that this is when she cried out "Wait!" He stopped at the cry, turning back to look at her.

"I...can add another part. My power is to create magical objects." She glanced at her loyal lantern. "I know that you will have a long life but you do not have immortality. I can help with that."

Because who would suspect a simple lantern?

The deal was made. Nobody knew how, but Cora ended up cupping the Beast's soul in her palms. She trembled because it was colder than the winter. She pressed the soul inside the lantern.

The lantern glowed, brighter than ever before. She held it close and they walked into the woods together.

Cora became the first Bearer. Under the Beast's protection, she wandered the woods. Some people think that they fell in love, but I don't know. I wasn't there. But most people agreed that she once asked him why she had never turned into a Candle while wandering the forest. He said "Maybe I should've. You would've made a lovely tree."

"Thank you...?"

(It was not known if that comment was an insult or a compliment.)

It didn't matter. They crafted a plan, love or no love, as she learned how to chop down trees, for the lantern depended on the oil of Candles.

Nobody knew how it happened.

Maybe Baba Yaga went out on a herb trip and was lured by herbs leading away from her cabin. Maybe Baba Yaga saw her daughter and chased after her because she was doubly enraged by the loss of another daughter. There were a hundred maybes.

All agreed that Cora told the Beast the Baba Yaga's secrets, and they were used.

The witch died, and as she had planned for Belle, she turned into a Candle. It was an ugly tree and both were glad when Cora started chopping it down. She ignored the pop of bone and the red that leaked out with the sap because the body hadn't started rotting inside.

The Baba Yaga was dead.

Well, that's what I've heard. Stories change over time. I wasn't there.

~'~'~

Cora hummed as she gathered the flowers, the lantern next to her.

The trees were turning into the colors of spring. The Beast was out wandering, singing his song. She had decided to stay at the cabin she had built with the help of some hypnotized men and grind the wood she had already cut. The flowers she had spotted outside would brighten up the cabin.

A noise behind her made her turn, ready to greet the Beast. It wasn't the Beast.

"Mary!" She said in surprise, a smile appearing. She hadn't seen her sister since she went into the woods.

"Cora." her sister said. She looked worn out, tired. But there was a small, pleasant smile on her face. Clenching the flowers close, the younger hugged the elder. "I am so glad I found you. Mother..."

"I know. I'm sorry."

There were no words between them. Cora pulled away first, moving to invite her sister in for tea when the ax buried itself in her chest. She cut herself off with a gag, warm red leaking from the wound and her lips. A tear rolled down her cheek and she fell.

Mary panted between clenched teeth, her smile gone. She pulled out the ax and raised it over her head. "Traitor." she managed out. She swung the ax down, Cora letting out a scream. "Bloody, murdering, traitor."

She didn't know how many times she swung the ax, but the blade and her hands were red when she stopped. The anger faded to be replaced with horror. "Oh god..." she whispered, kneeling next to her sister's pale body.

She was so cold.

Mary wept, gripping the pink and red of the dress as she held the body. When she had exhausted her tears and the sky had darkened to night, she looked up. She paled when she saw the Beast staring down at her. Dress stained red, she stood and stepped away from Cora.

The Beast stepped forward, never saying a word.

He gently scooped up the body. Leaving Mary with one last glare, he turned and disappeared.

The witch sighed, turning to where she had last seen the faithful lantern. She could keep it, to remind her of her sister and of her sins-

It was gone.

~'~'~

There were other Bearers.

Nobody knew what happened to the first. Some suspected that the Beast turned her into a tree to give her one last shred of peace.

Many people held the lantern, except there were three who were special. One Bearer was a man who loved his wife, enough to damn himself. But when two children slipped through to the Woods, he did his best to lead the girl and her younger brother away from the Beast.

It wasn't enough.

The Beast's last bearer, his Flower Queen, took the Woodcutter's place.

"I'll cut down the trees. I'll grind out their oil. I'll fuel the lantern. You don't have to lie to me about the trees or the lantern or the song...just let me take my brother home."

"Deal."

[beerecordings]

A Shadow Overcast

Part 19 of My Brother’s Keeper (Part 1 l Previous l Next)

This chapter is dedicated to a dear fren. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. hap birth my dear <333

ALSO @starlightxnightmare I have been waiting for MONTHS to tell you this but you noticed this discrepancy like FIVE CHAPTERS AGO OR SOMETHING LOL i saw your tags and i was like DAMN I’M TRANSPARENT. you asked the exact question that Chase asks in this chapter. love you you genius. enjoy.

My taglist is a separate post. You can ask to be added or removed. I am trying to make sure if it is up to date so seriously please tell me if you want to be taken off! and actually if you wouldn’t mind I would love to hear that you still want to be on the list if you are right now. I don’t know that everyone is still reading anymore and I don’t want to be bugging you!

Anyway. Chapter.

Marvin’s house is full of nightmares, and the magician himself is not there to enchant his brothers to safer sleep. Together, the four of them are shadowed and haunted, fighting and falling, losing grips to cling to with every day that passes.

Jameson Jackson has always dreamed vividly.

He is not the only one.

Blood and the silver gleam of a knife become chemicals at the nape of the brain stem, and Henrik dreams.

He's been taken out of his little prison cell. His handcuffs were removed, the blood was wiped from his cheeks, and careful hands made swaddling of white bandages around his torn flesh and tired ribs. The bone of his left wrist protrudes from his skin, broken in a single motion by Anti's hands not two days before, but it, like everything else in the world, has ceased to hurt him.

Warm is the darkness, gone the cold light.

“Isn't this easier?” asks Anti, not angry, or cold, or even condescending. His voice has the same tone as the night sky, when the stars have escaped from the light and stand singing in the shadow of infinity. “Don't you want to stay with me?”

Henrik is entranced.

Henrik is lost, is found, is lying, exhausted, on Anti's chest, his bruised eyes closed and his mouth, blue as heliotrope, still and silent. He manages a slow nod. Tears leave dark wet patches on Anti's soft black shirt. The demon strokes his hair.

“Yeah, this is better,” Anti hums, burrowing closer to him under the covers of the bed and letting his chin rest on top of Henrik's head.

The doctor's flayed hands reach out to wrap around him, clutching at his sides, at his back, at his thin sharp spine, at his warmth. He is dazed, exhausted, collapsing, in love; he is consumed and adoring, and yes, Anti is right – this is better, this is easier, so much better, so much easier! The warmth is becoming heat and he is shaking, panting, weeping, ill, and for a second something bright and painful explodes through his awareness and he whimpers, but Anti is here to soothe it away with the same hands that have tortured him, tortured him, tortured him –

He wakes up.

Tears cling to his dark eyelashes. The moon has slid in beneath the blinds of his window, coating his blue blankets in recycled sunlight. There's something very warm wrapped around his waist.

Check that. Someone.

Jameson shivers in his sleep, clinging tight to Henrik's shirt and breathing low and slow against his shoulder. For a second, Henrik is repulsed so strongly that he gags, but his disgust is not directed at his little brother.

So fucking pathetic, his brain tells itself. So fucking pathetic. Still craving Anti?

He'd been in recovery, before Anti took him again. He'd been doing alright. He'd forgotten it was possible to hate himself this much – to hate himself so much it makes his chest burn and his heart stutter and his fingers curl up with a desperation that he can't even express in words.

He's sobbing, sobbing like his heart is broken, but he'll be damned if he wakes up his little brother, his little brother who trusts him and only him, his little brother who comes to him weeping and curls up in his arms like he isn't afraid or disgusted by him, who loves him in the simplest and most pure way, a way he doesn't deserve; no, he won't wake Jameson up. He won't wake Jameson up. He'll get up and have something to calm him down, and then he'll come back to bed before the cold wakes jumpy JJ up.

Inch by inch, wiping furiously at the tears in his eyes, Henrik slips out of his bed and limps to his drawer, pulling out his medicine.

“Two tablets before sleep,” prescribes the bottle helpfully. “Do not take more than six tablets in twenty-four hours.”

Henrik pours two pills into his hand and pops them both in his mouth together, swallowing them dry and pausing to breathe afterwards. He turns, for a moment, to glance at his friend. The moon colors an old cut at the bottom of Jameson's throat white and makes his dark bruises, still stagnant after a week of recovery, seem to glow through the cold night light.

How am I supposed to convince the little one that Anti is dangerous when I can't even convince myself? How am I supposed to keep him with me when Anti has that kind of power to offer and I have nothing? How long will he be here with me before Anti steals us both away again? If only he had never been taken. If only I had never been taken. If only I had never been created. God, God! Do I have to live through this shame again?

Death feels close and tastes like a sleeping tablet.

He takes a third pill.

Crawling back into bed, Jameson shifts and curls, digging his chin into his shoulder, and Henrik, breathing in the sweet coconut smell his little brother has adopted, goes back to sleep.

Marvin's house is the only place in the world he and his family are safe. It is no longer a comforting thought. He is tired.

Henrik von Schneeplestein has long been haunted.

He is not the only one.

“Where are you?” whispers Jackie, clutching at the torn remnants of a red cape. “Where are you? Please come home.”

The wind whips loud around him, striking blows against his flesh and tearing at his hair. He grits his teeth against the cutting air and steps forward, forward, farther along the beam of the crane.

Brighton is beautiful 100 meters in the air.

“Where are you?” he screams. “Where, where, where? Don't tell me you're gone, I can't take it! Please, please, come home!”

His boots slip against the metal of the beam, but he gasps and sways and steadies again, inching closer, closer to the edge.

He can't fly.

His body is so fucking shattered, he's so fucking weak, and his little brother will not be there to catch him, will not douse him in blue light and grab his hand, laughing as they rise together, twins and friends and brothers, hallowed by the moon while Jackie fills up with his own homemade sunshine, a hero, a star –

“Focus!” shouts Marvin, and Jackie lets out a scream as he finds his brother all too suddenly before him, his long hair blown wildly about by the wind. He hovers above him like a specter, glorious and beautiful and angrier than Jackie's ever seen him, teeth gritted. “Focus, Astrifer!”

“On what?” he demands, bewildered and terrified, retreating away from this ghost in the air before him, but Marvin follows without hesitation, setting his feet down on the beam of the crane and reaching out a white hand.

“I love you!” he cries. “But I need you to stop crying out! I need you to watch over them!”

“What are you talking about?” gasps Jackie. The wind drags tears from his eyes. “Where are you, please, tell me you're alive, come home, I can't bear this – ”

“Bear it,” says Marvin.

A dream of Marvin, anyway. Jackie's Marvin was never so cold.

“Bear it, protect them. There is all of time and no time at all.”

His hand points back towards the body of the crane. Panting like his heart will give out, Jackie turns his eyes away from Marvin and back towards the darkness.

“S-Seán?” he stammers, catching sight of a silhouette in the darkness.

And there, holding his creator over the edge of a crane tall enough to build skyscrapers, sits Jameson Jackson, staring back at him, one eye blue and one eyes black.

“Enemy or brother?” cries Marvin, over the howling of the wind, terrible and oppressive and endless, a constant, constant, constant enemy cutting close on every side.

“I don't know!” shouts Jackie. “I'm scared!”

“Choose,” answers Marvin. “It is Anti who taught you fear and you must be courageous again, or what you have left will not be yours for much longer.”

Jackie screams, falling to his knees, clinging to the beam beneath his feet. Somewhere far away, he thinks he can hear Chase and Henrik crying out in answer, but in the darkness he can catch no glimpse of them.

“Go back to them,” says Marvin, stepping away.

“Wait,” cries Jackie. “Wait, please.”

“Please, stop begging for me.”

“Why can't I go with you?” he howls. “Why won't you come home?”

Marvin calls an answer, but Jackie is no longer listening. He staggers back to his feet and turns away from Seán and Jameson, moving towards the end of the beam again, trembling and elated, terrified and desperate.

“I want to go with you,” he shouts, and he sees Marvin's mouth move in the shape of his name, and then he has reached the end of the crane and his foot reaches out over nothingness and still he is stepping towards him.

The fire alarm erupts into shrieking and Jackie comes awake screaming and covered in tears, shaking with fever and bleeding from the mouth. Falling, he had bitten his tongue hard enough for the blood to come.

He scrambles out of bed, covering his ears against the crying of the fire alarm, and groans as his chest and back light up with fire. Pausing, he tumbles against the bulletin boards on his wall, strings and pushpins holding together theories and clues, only to find himself staring at his missing persons board, not yet up to date, where Marvin and Jameson's screenshot faces smile back at him from the days when they were both healthy and whole and his.

And he is just the coward who could not save them, coated in a hundred scars and deserving of every one of them, crying so hard he cannot breathe, while his brothers are fighting fire in the next room over.

“You're drunk.”

“Shhh,” pleads Chase, as if Jameson's signing were a shout. “Shhh, I'm not, I'm not, don't say that – ”

“I can tell from the way you move.” Jameson ducks away from his soothing hands, vaguely irritated. “And you would never burn the sausage sober.”

The fire alarm has shut up, but only because they took the batteries out. The whole room is full of smoke. The sausage is very burned. Chase is drunk.

“Cut me some slack, Jamie, I've been having bad dreams and I just needed a break from them. Lately I feel like – ”

“Are you drunk?”

Chase startles to see Henrik appeared halfway down the staircase, glaring across the room.

“N-no,” he answers, grinning flimsily. “Just, uh. Fucked up the sausage. Sorry for setting off the alarm.”

“Jamie,” says Henrik, frowning at him. “Is he drunk?”

Jameson glances between the two of them, considering. Survival is a game and even small decisions like this should be carefully weighed out.

He doesn't want to stress Schneep out, he decides. It's upsetting for the whole house, himself included.

“Don't think so,” he tells Henrik, relaxing against the kitchen counter and grinning. “Just a klutz.”

Henrik stares down at them for a long moment.

“I'm going back to bed,” he grumbles, retreating back up the stairs.

“Thanks, Jay,”  sighs Chase, only feeling a little guilty. Better than getting caught, right?

“Why do you get drunk?”

“Shit, I don't know, cause I'm a fucking moron?” He sighs deep and rubs at his face, opening the door to air out some of the smoke he's created. “It helps me sleep, I guess. Been having bad dreams. And I just – I don't know, kind of anxious lately. You and Schneep are back but... no one else.”

Jameson blinks. Maybe he's just talking about Jack being asleep, but some part of him understands that that's not who he means.

A sixth brother.

Anti only ever spoke about him when he was in what Jameson considered a gentle mood. While the mask might be discussed over a good beating or a pool of blood, the cat was a bedtime horror story, a being whispered of when Anti's arms were around his stomach, his warnings more genuine than his affection.

“Why do they call him a magician?” asked Jameson once, his mouth trembling. “What can he do?”

“Everything,” Anti answered in a whisper. “I don't know the full extent of it.”

“I don't know” was no common phrase in their house.

“I don't know enough to be sure. And so you must assume, my little heart, that the answer is 'everything.'”

Anti leaned in close and kissed his cheek, and when he drew away, there was no one in the world who would have said the softness in his gaze was false.

“Be careful,” murmured Anti, touching his cheek. “If he ever finds a way past me, he will kill you, Dapper. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Anti.”

He buried his face in his brother's shoulder, stroking the hair at the back of his neck, trying to offer comfort.

“I understand.”

“Good boy.”

“C-H?” he asks now, turning up his gaze, still not sure what to name his brother. “I want to ask you something.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Where's the cat?”

Down the hall, there is an empty room that still smells of incense and flowers.

“Oh!” Chase grins, turning to him with bright eyes. “You saw him wandering around, huh?”

So he is here! Jameson has been wondering all week where he lives, why he isn't with the others, what happened to him. He sits up straight in his seat, calculating quickly about the danger he might be in. Chase wouldn't let him get hurt, right? Anti warned him about Jackie, too, but Chase and Henrik have kept him safe so far.

“You want to meet him?”

“Is he... friendly?”

“Yeah, super friendly! That one is, anyway. Come on, let's go try to find him.”

“What – outside?”

“Yeah, he spends most of his time outside.”

Jameson's eyes widen. “You'll come outside with me?”

Chase laughs. “I swear you're like a dog when it comes to going on walks. You're a wild man, Jays. Yeah, let's go outside! Fresh air'll probably do my dumb ass some good.”

Jameson's face splits in a wide grin. For a second, he is little different from the man in the video last Halloween, bright and delighted, energetic and expressive, and it makes Chase laugh aloud, instantly cheered. Bolstered by his delight, Jameson jumps down from the kitchen stool and darts to the back door, yanking it open, finding it unlocked, and leaping into the snow.

“Dude!” Chase protests, but he's only laughing harder. “Shoes, you complete pantaloon! Shit, and a coat – can you wait two goddamn seconds?”

Jameson grins and steps down from a wood porch as Chase runs off to get him something to wear. Beneath the slushy spring-touched snow he can feel soft dead grass, and the air cuts like something cleaner and more beautiful than even the blade of a fresh knife across his skin and through his downy hair. Breathing in deep, he propels himself forward and leaps, cartwheeling across the white landscape, picking up snow and tossing it in the air, freed as Anti used to free him.

Days when he was allowed outside were his favorite days. They lived far from civilization – the closest highway was some miles away, not that he knew which direction – and what had once been farmland had become mires of old wheat fields and copses of heavy peaceful trees. The cold rarely stopped him, but then again there were days where he had feared it, like the day the door to the house had accidentally locked and he was stuck outside for hours, weeping as he froze, knocking and pounding for Anti to come save him, his fingers turning white, and then red, and then purple...

He still loved going outside, though. He just never thought anybody would want to come with him. He's not really worth spending time around.

“Here you go,” Chase says, coming up beside him and taking his hands in his own, shoving a pair of soft mittens over his fingers. Jameson blinks up at him, warmed.

“And the coat,” Chase adds, helping him stick his arms into it. Jameson pulls it tight around him and drags the fabric up to his nose, shivering and sighing contentedly into the warmth.

“Here, put my boots on too. We'll have to get you some clothes of your own soon! Maybe next week we can go, if Schneep's feeling safe about it.”

“New clothes for me?”

“Yeah, of course. And anything else you need. I think we could start making that spare room your room, you know? We'll get some decorations or books or something.”

Jameson stares up at him, tugging the second boot onto his foot.

“Everything okay?” asks Chase, frowning. He's wrapped up in a coat and a beanie, wet snow soaking into his sneakers.

Jameson swallows hard, a tsunami of guilt and shame, love and gratitude, uncertainty and caution welling up in his throat.

He wants to keep you, says something in the back of his head. He doesn't plan to throw you out at all. And you're just planning to leave.

Well, answers a darker, angrier part of him, the part of him that wants to tell Chase to fuck off and to run away into the forest and finds his way back to – to what? What's waiting for him? Anti told me the same, that he meant to keep me. That's why we're here. People lie, Jameson.

Chase slings an arm around him and JJ jumps. “Sorry,” Chase chuckles. “I'll warn you next time. Is this okay?”

Jameson reaches up to touch the hand set on his shoulder, turning his head to look into Chase's eyes. The weight of Chase's arm is the best kind of heaviness. He isn't afraid to touch him at all, and only a week ago Jameson had him at gunpoint, glaring down at him with hatred in his eyes.

He always loved Anti, but he would never have called him “good.” Even in his earliest days, he was cognizant of the reality that there was a great cruelty in his brother, and he saw very little goodness in Anti, in the house, in the world around him.

He thinks Chase is probably what goodness looks like.

“Yes,” he knocks. “It's okay.”

For a second, Chase smiles at him so soft that Jameson thinks he's probably what happiness looks like too.

“Sweet!” he says, squeezing his shoulder. “Let's go find that cat, man!”

Chase shoots Henrik a text to tell him they'll be out for a while and they set off into the forest, Jameson still hugged under his brother's arm. Chase can tell he's enjoying himself from the brightness of his eyes and the energy of his step as he wanders beside him, his gaze following the swift brown birds through the sky and the dripping of water from the the dark branches of the trees.

And Athanasius doesn't make himself hard to find. They've only been walking for about twenty minutes when he appears.

“Meow!” he greets them, sprinting up to Chase's side, pressing his head up against his calves, yowling noisily. He's a loud-mouthed cat and always has been. Chase always loved that. He laughs and scoops the little grey cat into his arms, scratching enthusiastically at his ears.

“Hey there, good boy,” he grins, pushing their foreheads together. “How you living, buddy? Ate the last of my fish yesterday, you know. I'll get you more, don't worry.”

He turns around with the cat in his arms, expecting a smile or maybe some tentative attempts to pet him from his little brother, but Jameson just looks confused.

Bewildered, really.

“Um, you good?” he asks, laughing uncertainly.

Jameson stares at Athanasius. “That's... the cat?”

“Yeah?” frowns Chase, double-checking the sign for cat in his head. “Oh! Maybe you were expecting Queenie, huh? You've seen her around, have you? This is Athanasius. Don't ask me why Marvin named him that. He told me once, but it was something about immortality and magic and names he found funny – anyway, this is the cat.”

Jameson bursts into laughter.

“What?” stammers Chase, taking his turn at complete confusion. “What's so funny? Jameson?”

“Holy shit,” says Jameson. He never takes the time to sign curse words, but this – holy fuck. “Anti used to tell me all these stories about how dangerous he is and what a threat and a monster and then you tell me we're going to meet him and you turn around holding – ”

He doubles in on himself, his chest shaking hard. Chase can't help but join him in laughter, setting Athanasius down. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The cat,” Jameson repeats, as if it's obvious, and very funny to boot. “The cat – what was that name you just said? I didn't know his name, the three of you don't talk about him. The magician.”

Chase stills, staring. Athanasius sits down beside him, his head tilted up at Jameson. In the trees, the birds have fallen into respectful silence.

Like a vigil.

“Marvin?” whispers Chase.

His voice breaks down the middle of the word. Jameson stops laughing.

“Yes,” he says softly. “That name. Are you okay?”

“I,” says Chase.

Marvin. Marvin. Marvin.

“I'm fine,” he whispers.

Anti used to tell him stories.

Used to tell him he was dangerous.

Used to call him a threat.

“Anti warned you about him?”

Chase can taste his heart in his mouth. It is difficult to breathe. A euphoria is beginning in his chest.

“Anti warned you about Marvin?”

Jameson stares at him. Looks down at his hands.

Knocks “yes,” gently.

“Yes, he warned me.”

Chase wonders that the whole forest does not sing. His heart does.

“Alive!” he screams, so loudly even Athanasius goes scrambling away from him, and then he takes off at a sprint back the way they came, towards Jackie and Henrik and the house their brother gave him, their Marvin, the cat, the magician. “Alive, alive, alive!”

He's been wondering so long.

“Jackie!” he cries, bursting into the house through the back door, panting hard. Is he really so out of shape? Fuck it, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but this. He darts down the hallway, showing up in Jackie's open doorway looking like a wild thing, bright-eyed with tears.

He’s been wondering where his big brother is for so, so long.

“What the hell?” demands Jackie weakly, trying to sit up straight in his chair. “Chase, chill.”

He couldn't go back to sleep after the fire alarm. He's just been sitting here, thinking.

Are you really gone? reads a sticky note on one of his bulletin boards, stuck next to a polaroid of Marvin's face, smiling as he holds up a shut-eyed silver kitten, healthy and safe, happy, unharmed...

“Jackie.” Chase draws his attention back. “Jackie, Marvin's alive.”

He feels so many things at once he feels nothing at all.

“Chase,” he whispers, turning away again.

“I mean it! Jameson said so!”

“Jameson – no, he didn't. Or if he did... Look – just – come on, man, don't do this to me, I'm exhausted.”

“He told me Anti warned him about Marvin. That he told him he was dangerous. He wanted to meet him! Look, Jackie, I know how long we've searched. I know how long you tried to find him. And I know it doesn't look good, with all that blood that was on the floor where he was – and his broken mask – and the hand Anti cut off – and I know it's weird that Jameson and Schneep have never seen Marvin in captivity with them, like it seems like Anti would have kept them all together or at least nearby, but – ”

Jackie buries his face in his hands, trying to breathe. He can't handle this right now. He can't handle this ever.

“But Jameson said so and why would he lie?”

“I can think of a lot of reasons, actually,” gripes out Jackie. “Upsetting us, for one. Or Anti told him to. What if he's trying to lead us out of the house? Bet he'll tell you a location next. 'You can find Marvin here!' And then we all get caught by Anti.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Pretty sure I do. Let's not do this now, Chase.”

“Jackie, listen!” Chase moves to his side, gripping the back of his chair and spinning him around so that they stand side by side, but his brother still fails to meet his eyes. “Jameson asked me where he was. He doesn't think Marvin's dead. Don't you think Anti would have told him if he had killed Marv? Why would Anti warn him about him if he was gone? I bet he would be crowing it from the rooftops if he had managed to kill our Marvin. He would have told Jameson.”

“Chase,” says Jackie, just quietly, his nails digging into the end of his arm rests. “Jameson also didn't know that Jack was in a coma. I heard Henrik explaining it to him two days ago.”

“He knew Jack was in hospital. And asleep. I think that counts.”

“Didn't know my name or Marvin's, never once used the word coma – and there's a sign for it, one he knows, I checked – doesn't even know that Anti's had two attempts on Jack's life. Or that I've been fucking crippled since the day Anti beat me. How's that for something Anti should have been crowing from the rooftops?”

Chase pauses and licks his lips, rocking back on his heels. “Okay, fine,” he concedes. “That's weird, but it still doesn't make sense for Anti to not have told... well, yeah, I would think he would have told him that Jack was in a coma and Marvin was dead, but...”

Jackie runs his hands over his face. “Anti didn't tell the little man much, okay? It doesn't mean anything. I'm sorry, I wish it did – trust me, I fucking wish it meant anything. But it just... doesn't.”

There's a lump somewhere low in Chase's throat. “Why are you so determined to say it isn't true? Don't you want Marvin to be alive? You've given up on him.”

Jackie's on his feet so fast Chase nearly tumbles backwards, but his brother grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him close, so Chase can't miss the fury in his eyes. The lights are brighter than they were a moment ago. For a second, Chase stares right back at Jackie, his mouth drawn in a snarl, but then his will breaks and tears spark in his blue eyes.

Jackie softens, regret replacing rage. He lets Chase go and sinks back down, slowly, into his chair. He curls in on himself, his chest aching and his heart beating too fast. He looks old. He looks small. The lights have gone dark again and everything is still.

“Chaser,” Jackie croaks. “Will you please go get Henrik? Anti told me something and I think it's time you both heard.”

“What?”

“Please go get Henrik.”

“Where's Marvin?”

“Go get Henrik. Go get Henrik.”

Chase obeys. Henrik comes. And Jackie, in a voice as small as a star-speck and as shaky as a knife-wound, tells them what Anti said.

Jameson has heard screaming many times – screams of anger, of pain, of fury, of fear. Screams of grief, as he finds out that day, are the most horrible of them all.

[the-story-of-how-we-died]

Prologe

I looked at the casket in front of me, letting out a sigh. A tapestry of the Veilmont mountains early in the dawn was thrown over the lid. Flowers and candles surround it, like a scarf of morbid beauty around the neck of the befallen. I held my breath, both to not disturb the scene, and because I don’t think I could’ve stopped the tears if I dared let out a breath near her.

“I know that this isn't what you had planned, Ozhika. But what did you think would happen? A job from the Giochi? You knew getting involved with the Giochi was a bad idea. They’d sell out themselves for a firechip, needless to say what it would take for us.” I said, the black coal of despair and helplessness growing in my stomach.

“It was just a job. We could’ve-.. We could’ve just taken another. Why the Giochi? Why-?” I took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears in

I reached into the purse at my side, rummaging around. This was her’s, at one point or another. A bit morose, all considering. I guess one day, when my children are in the same position as I, an uncaring history’ll repeat. If they even come. I grimaced at the thought. I grabbed a small journal and pulled it out, drawing several wrappers and pens with it. I ignored them as they fell to the ground, looking back at the casket. 

“Always thought our roles would be reversed, no, Ozhika? Always thought I’d be the one to take a bullet to the heart, not you.” I choked a sob back.

I drew in a deep breath as I opened the journal. I looked at the text written on the first page as I began to read. I didn’t need the journal to know what to say, but It made me feel better, the last physical thing I had of her.

“Whether in this life or at the Door of Stars, know that I shall carry your memory with me for the rest of my life, Ozhika. As the text reads upon the door; Let all know who such desire, All must eventually put their weapons down. It is not a sign of weakness nor despair, but a natural evolution of life. For the Golden Hand shall always look over his people, the Silver hand shall always guide them, and the All-Knowing will bequeath them with the knowledge they require. As you, Ozhika, place your weapon down for the final time in this life, know that the Three shall be overlooking you as you walk the Path. And, once it is required for you to pick it up once more to protect the Door, the Three shall overlook you once more.”

I took in another shaky breath, tears streaming down my face. I closed the book before drawing my head to her casket. I felt my head against the cold stone as I let out a sob. “How could you be so dumb, Ozhika? How-how could you leave me? W-why now? When I-I need you the most?” I let out another sob, shaking through my entire body. I slammed my fist against the cold stone.

As I cried, I felt a warm hand upon my shoulder. I ignored them at first, hoping that they would get the message and leave me with my sorrow. But after a few moments, I let out a deep breath as I tried to get a hold of myself. I sniffled and looked at the person next to me. He was a middle-age human man, no older than fifty. He was dressed in a baggy shirt with even baggier pants, slightly yellow in color. Several darker pieces of cloth wrapped around his waist and across one shoulder. His skin was tan and leathery, covered in wrinkles from a life filled with laughter. His dark black hair was drawn into a bun. Multiple strands remained unrestrain, falling over his face. A long, single line of lighter colour skin, a scar, went from the corner of one eye to the corner of the opposite side of his mouth, cutting across his lips. 

“I know the pain you feel. I have felt it myself many times. Do you mind if I sit with you?” The man said in a thick accent. From Aeon, maybe?

I looked at the man, before letting out another sigh as I placed my head back against the casket. “Do what you want. I won’t stop you.”

Not today. Today, of all days, you will not be curious, you will not dive deeper than you can swim. This- this day is just for Ozhika, just one day.

The man let out a groan as he sat down, his back against Ozhika’s casket, legs crossed. He reached around his neck, and undid a necklace. He pulled it from his neck, grasping it in his hand. It was a small chalice, with a hand grasping it. a red gemstone was carved into looking like red mist filtering from the cup. He held it to his forehead and mumbled something quickly. He put the necklace back on and shut his eyes. We sat in silence for a while, only noise being my sniffling, before he spoke again.

“I apologize, I do not believe I got your name.”

“I never gave it” I let out a noise that was half between a snort and a sob. That’s where I had stopped in my head, but the coal in my stomach grew slightly warmer from guilt. “Gaya. Gaya Etsadzo.” I sat up from the coffin, making the symbol of the Three one my chest, holding my first three fingers to my heart.

“Gaya Etsadzo? Is that not “Night River” in Odroma?” The man asked

“Night Stream. Or brook. Creak, drabble, whatever small flowing path of water you want.” I paused for a moment, looking over the man once more. “You do not seem like a man who knows Odroma.”

“Because I look Aeon? That is probably because I am. Let us just say I am... well-studied for a man from the Tsarist.” He replied.

“For the peasantry, sure. But you do not look like a man from the peasantry.” I stood up. “Which house are you from? Aja?”

The man let out a bellowing laugh, drawing looks from the other two ladies in the church. “Do you really take me as a man of Aja?” I didn’t respond. He let out a puff of air. “Pfh, really? I’ll have to change the way I dress, then. No, I am not from any house of the Tsarist. I was there long before it was.” He stood up. I realized he was nearly a foot taller than I. The coal in my stomach grew hotter, seemingly burning inside of me.

“Before the Tsarist? It’s existed since the Sun E-”

The man let out an exasperated groan. “Descended from the City of Convergence. Yes, yes, I know. I do not need a history lesson.” He cracked his knuckles, looking over Ozhika’s casket, his eye lingering on the tapestry.

I took several steps back, nearly falling over the candles and flowers. “You're older than any Elf I’ve met, much less a human. Who are you?” I managed to stutter

He cracked his back before reaching into his pocket, drawing two obsidian-black gloves. He slid one onto his right hand. “My name would mean nothing to you. Some call me the devil, though I believe you Gozhike don’t think there is a devil, do you? Just your three little gods from An’Garresh.”He slid the other glove onto his left hand, stretching it a couple times before looking back at me. “No?”

He began to walk towards me, causing me to hurtling backward. I fell to the ground, crawling backwards before I felt my back to the wall. “I-I-I..” I began to stutter.

The man  slowly walked just in front of me, causing me to draw further against the wall. He squatted down in front of me, before putting his finger to my lips. “Shh.. Do not worry. The more you worry, the more this will hurt.” I let out a whimper.

“I do not call myself the devil though.” He looked me in the eyes, drawing slightly closer, a small, pitying smirk on his face, as if he knew something simple that I did not. “Do not worry, you’ll be with Ozhika soon.” He hummed as he grabbed my face with one hand and began to squeeze. I let out a yell as I began to thrash, trying to crawl away.

“I call myself Akim, though others call me Nùipfa, The Dark Forest.” He cleared his throat

“‘Let all know who such desire, All must eventually put their weapons down.’” He drew his other hand to my face. I grabbed his hands and fruitlessly tried pulling his iron-grasp away. I heard a door open and the stomping of several feet - running away.

“‘It is not a sign of weakness nor despair, but a natural evolution of life.’” I felt my vision begin to go dark as the pain overtook everything. I let out another scream, for help or pity.

“Shh.” he hushed, “For the Golden Hand shall always look over his people, the Silver hand shall always guide them, and the All-Knowing will bequeath them with the knowledge they require.’” I felt my temples begin to crack as the darkness completely overtook my vision. 

“‘As you,Gaya, place your weapon down for the final time in this life, know that the Three shall be overlooking you as you walk the Path.’” And my vision went completely dark.

. . .

The man reached into his pocket, drawing a small vial and placing it to the woman's face. As she let out her final breath, the vial glowed faintly gold. He capped it, putting it back in his pocket. 

“Good,” he hushed “‘And, once it is required for you to pick it up once more to protect the Door, the Three shall overlook you once more.’” He huffed as he drew another, larger vial and a small knife. In one swift motion, he cut open her neck and let the blood dribble into the vial

“You’re goin’ soft.” He heard a high-pitch voice squeaked into his ear. He closed his eyes as he squeezed the hilt of the knife. “Reciting her prayers as ya killed her, huh?” The man let out another sigh. He capped the vial and put it back into his pocket. He bent over. and slumped the woman's body over his shoulder, walking back over to the coffin, her warm blood quickly washing down his back.

“So what if I am? I have to kill, that does not mean I have to be burlesque about it.” he said as he laid the womens body below the coffin, carefully placing her hands across her chest, leaving three of her fingers outstretched on her right hand. He whispered out a prayer as he closed her eyelids on her now malformed skull.

“Seems like a good way to go insane to me!” The voice squeaked again.

“I hear a voice I cannot see the source of and I talk back to it. I’ve killed more than any soldier  - or any monarch - in the world. If anything, I am already insane.” He replied, standing up from the body. He reached for his neck and held it once more to his forehead, whispering another prayer. “Go in peace.”

“Those other ladies, you know you'll have to kill them, right? They saw your lovely face, Jarem.”

There was a loud crunch as the man punched a wooden pew, shattering the backboards. “I. Have. Told. You. Do not use that name!” He yelled, glaring at the floor, blood seeping from his knuckles.

“Jeeeez, fine!” The voice drew out “Just ask me next time! Ya know ya have to kill ‘em now, Akim?”

The man sighed, leaving the question unanswered. He drew his knife once more, still with fresh blood on its blade. He fingered the finely crafted handle, tiny dragons flying up around in a spiral. The red gemstone embedded in the pommel faintly glowed. It faintly felt like it had some liquid within it, sloshing around like it would in a vial or glass. It seemed to almost buzz as he thought about the question and came to the conclusion he knew he would. He let out a groan as he looked up to the open church doors, droplets of blood falling from his hand.

“Yes. I know, Mek.”