wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

Royce, Emily, and Johnny.

Johnny just causes chaos. That's it.

Two lovers have reincarnated throughout history, destined to find each other and fall in love all over again. There’s also this third guy that reincarnates alongside them… we don’t really know what he does.

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

The original version of this story. It will be the one that I continue for the time being.

Prologue

A/N: Hello? Hi. I know it's been awhile. Well, I'm back. With my original idea for Where Butterflies Never Die. Back when it was still titled "A Grave Mistake" and didn't have any witchy stuff. It was darker, more violent, and had more sexual content.

The White Zodiac that would have been featured in Hearts Burst Into Fire – which, sadly, has been discontinued for the time being – was originally created for this story.

Without further ado, let us embark on this story together.

October 31st, 1957 The Sullivan House Madison, Ohio

Johnny winced, pressing his hand to his abdomen. Emily had gotten him good when she had slashed at him, slicing through two layers of skin. He pulled his hand away and studied them in the limited light shining through the window of the room he had slipped into. The rays of the full moon outside the pane of glass shone wetly off the blood dripping steadily from his fingers.

"I took a bow, and aimed it low, and caught you on the chin, chin, chin," a tremble went down his spine as his younger half-sister's voice rang and shimmered, echoing off the walls. He heard an eerie metallic sound as she dragged her blade along the cheap plaster of the walls that adorned the upstairs hall of the home she had only spent one month in. Before her mother had scooped up her newborn daughter and fled back to her parents' house on the rich side of town. "My mother said, now go to bed, I'll have to lock you in, in, in."

His fists clenched at his sides at the thought of Evelyn March.

The woman who had brought Emily into this world.

Johnny had never loved his half-sister. Had never even liked her, truth be told. From the time she was born, he had despised her. He had pushed her out of a second story window when she was four. While his father had explained it away as behavior typical of a five-year-old, his sister's wealthy maternal grandparents had disagreed and insisted that if Markus wanted to see his daughter from that point on, he would be doing so in their home, March House, under the watchful eye of Thomas March, on the Soc side of town.

Emily had formed friendships with several of the residents on that side of Madison.

Of them, no one was closer to her than Royce Clayton.

Johnny had not realized just how close his half-sister was to his enemy until two years ago.

The sight that had greeted him as he walked into the courtyard of Madison High that day for lunch had caused acid to churn in his belly.

On the edge of the fountain had sat Royce, Emily perched in the empty space between his legs, her back against his chest as she nibbled her cucumber with her obnoxiously white and perfect teeth. Royce had been conversing with her quietly, lips pressed to her ear, occasionally nuzzling her temple.

It had been odd to see someone who was normally aggressive appear so docile. Not that Emily was an exception to that rule in its opposite form. She came off as sweet and quiet, playing her little songs on her violin, but when you rubbed her the wrong way, she could be far more lethal than even the deadliest of spiders.

That was never more clear to him than it was now as he shifted and pain ripped low and wicked through his abdomen, a sharp reminder of Emily's ire and the bite of her blade. Icy terror seized him as he felt something soft brush against the skin of his neck.

"Found you."

As Emily sank the cold metal of her knife deep into the flesh of his shoulder, he found himself wishing for the first time in twenty days that he had never killed Royce Clayton.

A/N: I hope you liked it. There is more where this came from.

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

(A snippet of the new version of this story that won't leave my head. Depending on how people react to it, I may publish it in its entirety)

Johnny had never loved his half-sister. Had never even liked her, truth be told. He had pushed her out of a second story window when she was four. While his father had explained it away as behavior typical of a five year old, his sister's wealthy maternal grandparents had disagreed and taken custody of her, moving to the wealthy side of town into their ancestral home, March House.

She had formed friendships with several of the residents on that side of Madison.

No one was closer to her than Royce Clayton.

Johnny had not realized just how close his half sister was to his enemy until now.

The sight that greeted him as he walked into the courtyard of Madison High for lunch had acid boiling in his gut.

On the edge of the fountain sat Royce, Emily perched in the empty space between his legs, her back against his chest as she nibbled her cucumber with her obnoxiously white and perfect teeth. Royce was conversing with her quietly, lips pressed to her ear, occasionally nuzzling her temple.

It was odd to see someone who was normally aggressive appear so docile. Not that Emily was an exception to that rule in its opposite form. She came off as sweet and quiet, playing her little songs on her violin, but when you rubbed her the wrong way, she could be far more lethal than even the deadliest of spiders.

His bandaged hand was proof of that. He could still feel the meat fork plunging through his flesh with enough force to sink into the oak beneath his palm.

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

Titanic!Verse Snippet

April 9th, 1912

"Oh, butterfly," Emilia March's auburn waves bounced around her face as she danced joyfully into her shared room with her twin sister, bending to press a kiss upon her head before settling upon Emily's bed. "Butterfly, what are you up to?"

From the time they were two, Emilia had taken up calling her twin butterfly, and Emily, in return had affectionately dubbed her bolder twin sister dragonfly.

Emily glanced at her sister, deep indigo eyes quickly flitting back to her expansive wardrobe, which had been carefully packed away by Doris and Anne-Marie hours before. The new clothes were courtesy of her father and fiance, respectively. Despite her objections.

"You don't think this is too much, do you?" Emilia arched an eyebrow. "For the ship?"

Emilia chuckled and stood.

"Too much? For the Titanic?" when her sister nodded, Emilia squeezed her shoulders gently. "She's massive, butterfly. You don't have to worry about your luggage sinking her."

Emilia retook her seat, twirling one of her curls.

"Besides, they claim she is unsinkable."

Emily shook her head.

"She's made of iron, dragonfly," when her sister raised an eyebrow, Emily proceeded on with what she was saying. "Father is an architect. He helped Thomas Andrews with her design and those of her sisters. He says she may be difficult to sink due to her twin hull, but she is not unsinkable."

She tugged at the ruffles on the sleeve of her nightgown.

"Nothing on Earth is indestructible."

Sensing the tension building up inside of her sister, Emilia stood once again and took her hands.

"Are you not excited, Emmy?" she twirled her. "We are going back to America! You and Royce are going to be married soon!"

Royce Clayton was the second eldest son of Matthew and Sarah Clayton. He was a handsome boy with black hair and icy blue eyes. Unlike his brother, Markus, who was twenty two and favored their father in appearance, Royce was the male version of his mother. Also, unlike Markus, he was adept at sports. Baseball, in particular.

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

I WILL be starting - and hopefully posting - the first chapter of the Titanic!verse of this story tonight.

I've just been torn on whether I should start a separate tumblr for it or not.

I won't back out this time. If I do, you have full permission to yell at me.

UPDATE: I AM HAVING A HARD TIME

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

I will be working on the 1912 Titanic!Verse version of this story tonight. It will be a mix of the film AND history.

This story will be a mix of my two hyper fixations.

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

So, not going to lie. I am thinking of writing this story a different way.

I love it but I am brain dead on where I want to take this. If you have any ideas, I'm all ears.

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

Emily’s Bedroom

So, I have been messing with color schemes recently and managed to edit the walls for Emily’s room

Emily’s Bedframe that her father had crafted specifically for her, made out of wrought iron

Emily’s Bedspread

Emily’s Black Wood Flooring

The piano by the door across from the bed

Emily’s Violin Stand in one of the window alcoves

The Fixtures hanging from her ceiling made out of Tiffany Stained Glass, also handmade

On her built in dresser are varied pictures of her with Royce or Becky. The two people that mean the world to her. 

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Final Cover

I am actually very fond of this one

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

Emily and Royce: Ghost Appearances

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Emily’s Death Outfit

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

VI. Hunger

A/N: It hath been awhile, my comrades. I, once again, lost my inspiration for this story but clawed my way out of the pit of despair to write a chapter

After much deliberation, I have decided to make a chapter in Royce’s Point of View, which has proven to be interesting. Placing myself in the mind of a seventeen-year-old boy.

REMINDER: Royce Clayton/The Torn Prince was seventeen years old when he died in canon. I will NOT change that. With that stated, there will be sexual content between he and Emily, starting in this chapter.

I will, of course, put a warning before those so you can read past them if you wish. However, if you do read them DESPITE the warnings, it is no longer my problem.

I am not sure what this chapter will entail since I’m writing it as I go, therefore, any warning you can think of shall be applied.

One look and I can't catch my breath Two souls into one flesh When you're not next to me I'm incomplete

'Cause I'm on fire like a thousand suns I couldn't put it out even if I wanted to These flames tonight Look into my eyes and say you want me, too Like I want you

Hunger Ross Copperman

Royce’s Point of View

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I needed to calm down before Emily picked up my accelerated heart rate from her position in the living room of the March home. As I watched her through the window, twirling gracefully as she played the gorgeous white violin I had gotten for her this past Yule, the small velvet box containing my Nana Clayton’s engagement ring felt like it was burning a hole through my coat.

“You propose to Emily, Royce Clayton,” she had stated as she had pushed it into my hands. “If you keep fretting over it, you are going to stress yourself to death.”

She was right, of course. From the moment Emily and I had shared our first kiss three years ago, and maybe even before that, I had wanted to place a ring on her finger. Have her take my last name. Give her  children we could raise as Witches. Maybe halt our aging for a short while or perhaps even indefinitely. Eternity was not a horrible prospect if Emily was by my side to share it with.

“Todays the big day.”

I looked to my left with a start as the deep voice of Nathaniel drew my attention, his large and imposing figure immediately making me feel like a small child as opposed to the seventeen-year-old I was.

“There is nothing to worry about, boy,” he slapped me on the back, his Lycan strength enough to almost take me off my feet even in his human form. “Emily loves you. And if Nicholas had any doubts, he never would have granted his permission.”

I nodded and he chuckled, walking away.

My magic stirred as a familiar, mouthwatering scent floated into my nose, causing me to inhale deeply, red energy flecked with black weaving between my fingers, causing me to clench my hand.

“Are you going to stand out here in the cold all night, slugger?”

I spun, my eyes pulsing red as I gripped her, pulling her small frame flush against my larger one, practically swallowing her whole as I pressed a kiss to the hollow at the base of her throat.

“Royce, you need to calm down,” Cecelia’s voice filled my mind and I saw her weaving her way through the stones of the garden, Pann flitting through the air, landing on Emily’s shoulder. “I don’t think yours and Emily’s first time should be in the snow.”

I clenched my teeth, battling the urge, as I frequently did, to bury myself inside her.

“You had something to ask her, remember?”

I nodded and took a deep breath, being more grateful than ever that my Familiar had a maternal nature, consistently steering me away from my base male instincts.

Not that I did not want to make love to Emily. That I did not want to weave our magic together as well as our bodies. I, several times a week, found myself unable to sleep unless I had worked off the sexual energy consistently pulsing through my body, the same way my cock would throb in my hand as I tried to work myself to the brink of exhaustion. After some time, I would fall asleep sticky and tired past the point of what a normal human would be capable of.

Cecelia would always make sure I woke up in time to clean myself up and get dressed before my mother or Nettie came to ensure I was up for school.

“Royce. Focus.”

I took a deep breath and smiled at Emily, realizing that her fingers were brushing my face with concern, obviously confused by the sound of my heart.

I knelt on one knee, her eyes widening as she regarded me, her small hand coming up to flutter by her throat. Pann reared up and rested his front legs on her cheek, his large insect eyes focused intently upon me as I reached into my pocket and presented the small box, opening it up, my Nana’s ring catching the light of the moon, casting rainbows upon the snow.

“Nana Clayton’s Ring.”

I know she could feel the magic emanating from the diamonds. My mother had performed the spell herself. A blessing from the goddess traditional for proposals, she had told me.

“She insisted I use it to propose,” I chuckled. “You know how fond she is of you, kitten.”

She smiled and motioned for me to continue.

“Emily March,” I decided I did not need to make a speech. Emily knew me better than anyone else. “I love you with every beat of my heart and nothing would bring me more joy than to have you by my side for however long we decide to roam this Earth.”

Tears glistened in her beautiful purple eyes as I spoke.

“Would you make me the happiest guy in the world and be my wife?”

She nodded, unable to form words, and I stood, just in time to catch her in my arms. I couldn’t help the utterly stupid ‘whoop’ that left my lips as I spun her around, careful not to dislodge Pann from his position upon her shoulder.

“If you are done monopolizing my daughter, Royce,” Nicholas March’s voice rang out behind us. “Cassandra has prepared a feast in honor of your nuptials.”

I twirled Emily before tucking her underneath my arm and leading her up to the March residence, the warmth of the house swallowing us.

Pauly’s Diner January 1957

“Hey Emily,” I watched from my seat as Becky swept by mine and Andrew’s table, looking anxious as she made it to Emily’s side at the counter. “What kind of mood is your dearly beloved in today?”

I tuned in more intently now. Becky did not usually pay any attention to my temperament unless it would impact her workday in some significant way. For instance, if I got into another fight that led to blood on the floor or table.

“Pretty good,” Emily shrugged. “On the Royce scale, he’s above slightly irritated but below punching someone out.”

Becky arched an eyebrow at her, tightening her ponytail. “I don’t know what that means, Emmy.”

Emily smiled in my direction, her engagement ring catching the light.

“Roll the dice, Bex,” however, she stared more intently at Becky now. “Why so much concern for Royce’s temper?”

She nodded her head at something, and my posture immediately changed, shifted. Great. Just fucking fantastic. The pureblood Witch that wanted Emily for himself had waltzed into the diner. Adam Conrad. The kid was the bane of my existence. Constantly trying to convince Emily that she belonged to him. Not with him. To him. Like she was a fucking inanimate object meant to be owned and not the magnificent creature she was.

My fingers clenched around the edges of the table, the taste of iron filling my mouth as he approached her. My senses went on high alert as I saw the rage fill his eyes when they landed on the ring on her finger.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Emily?!” Adam drew the attention of EVERY patron in the diner as he charged toward her. “You are actually going to marry that half-breed?!”

I was surprised when Johnny – of all people – intercepted him, placing himself firmly between Emily and the angry He-Demon.

“Listen, half-witch or not,” Johnny crossed his arms. “Without magic, Clayton will mop the floor with you.” He leaned closer. “You are an angry child. Royce is pure rage in a human shell. And if anything can provoke him into a murder charge, it is any threat to the girl behind me.”

I smirked at his words, something dark seizing me. It was time to end this little brat once and for all. As the stare down continued, I shrugged off my letterman, Andrew looking at me wearily.

When Adam merely glared petulantly, Johnny sighed.

“I am trying to help you here, buddy,” he shook his head. “Everyone in town knows that the Diner is magic proof.”

He held up his hands.

“But hey, if you really think you are a capable enough fighter to take down the President of the Anger problem club,” he stepped aside. “Be my guest.”

My eyes pulsed red, a rage I had never felt before filling me as he gripped her hand, hard enough to make her gasp. I was on my feet and crossing the distance in a matter of seconds, gripping his throat, and tossing him to the floor.

Adam had no time to catch his breath as I followed him down, my fist making a satisfying thud as it hit his cheek. I felt the skin break under my fingers, blood spilling.

I don’t know how many times I hit him when I felt fingers tugging at the white material of my shirt, Emily hauling me to my feet and gripping my chin, forcing me to look at her.

To my shock, there was no anger in her eyes, merely concern as her purple gaze went to my split knuckles. She tugged me behind her without a word, leading me into the bathroom and locking the door, heading for the first aid kit against the wall.

I am almost positive I am one of the main reasons Pauley had these installed all over the diner.

She went to reach for my hands, but I lifted her onto the sink instead. I pressed her thighs apart to stand between them, pressing my rapidly hardening cock against the thin cotton of her underwear. I looked into her eyes to ensure I wasn’t making her uncomfortable. Within them I saw the same stirrings of heat that I am positive was reflected at her.

My fingers walked up her thigh and maintaining eye contact, I brushed my index finger along the seam of her underwear, feeling how the wet fabric stuck to her skin. A sound akin to a growl slid from between my lips as I brushed my knuckle gently against the little nub I could feel through the cotton.

She gripped the back of my neck and pulled me down into a kiss, my tongue immediately seeking hers. I could taste the cinnamon of her toothpaste as my free hand closed over her breast through the fabric of her work dress. My thumb brushed over her nipple, and she tugged on my bottom lip with her teeth, causing my tongue to lash against hers once again.

As much as I could tell that it killed her, she pushed against my chest.

“Pann is right, Royce,” of course her trusty familiar was talking to her. I had not even realized he was perched on one of the stall doors, his purple wings folded behind him. “We can’t have sex at my job.”

I looked down, ashamed. What was I? An animal?

She lifted my chin.

“I want to, slugger, believe me, I do,” she rubbed her thumb over my cheekbone. “But I would prefer our first time to be in a bed and not on a cold sink.”

She let out an impish grin then.

“Though I wouldn’t mind that after, of course.”

I shook my head at her and tickled her sides, causing her to let out adorable peals of laughter, my hands moving to massage her hips.

I leaned forward and nuzzled my nose against hers before pulling up her left hand and pressing my lips to the ring on her finger.

“I love you, Emily.”

She reached up and pulled my head down, resting our foreheads together.

“I know that slugger,” she smiled sweetly. “And I love you. With every beat of my heart.”

A/N: And that is that. I am fond of this chapter, despite how long it took me. Hopefully, I get some reviews.

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

This post reminded me of Emily

HUGE shout out to purple for being the only color that has like no losers. Deep purple royal purple bluish purple redish purple pastel purple dusty purple lavender periwinkle violet like. Banger after banger after banger!!

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

Emily Alice March

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

Official Cover

It took me forever because I had to do HEAVY editing to Emily’s model because she has auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and peachy skin. I had to give her purple eyes, make her hair black, and then give her the appearance of a ghost on top of it. 

It was a time consuming process but it is finally done!

Also, I will be updating this story soon. And the next chapter will be in Royce’s point of view!

I have to place myself in the mindset of a sixteen, almost seventeen year old boy. 

That should be fun. 

Also, once again, a quick reminder. 

Royce is seventeen years old. It says so in his ghost file as well as the simple math. There will be sexual content between him and Emily. I will, of course, place warnings. But if you read past them, it ceases to be my problem. 

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

She’s Mine

The above picture is an excerpt from the Pierce the Veil song, “A Match Into Water.”

Royce did not pinpoint himself as a possessive or territorial person. He would never try to wrap Emily up or keep her to himself. He enjoyed watching her interact with other people. Be they male or female. It made no difference to him. As long as she was safe and happy, he was content to just sit back and watch.

But then would come some moron, fucking everything up. Forcing the rage up from the depths of his belly, causing it to explode like a fireball, consuming every fiber of his being until he was a tornado of violence and anger. It tasted like metal on his tongue, so sharp was the sensation. 

Emily glanced up from the customer who had his fingers wrapped painfully around her wrist in time to see a hand grip the back of his head and slam it hard into the table, a sickening crunch echoing through the suddenly silent diner, his fingers loosening enough for her to step back, holding her already bruised wrist to her chest. 

“How many times must I tell you!” Pauly, the owner of the diner, a large, World War II Veteran, came running from the back and hauled the now screaming man out of his seat by the scruff of his neck, dragging him toward the door. “Keep your filthy hands off of my waitresses!”

“That little shit broke my nose.”

“With him,” Pauly threw his thumb over his shoulder. “Be grateful it wasn’t your neck.”

Royce merely rolled his eyes before stepping over to Emily and gripping her arm gently. The two maintained eye contact as he ran his lips gently over the tender skin before he kissed her knuckles, pulling her hand against his chest. 

The beauty of the Violinist and the baseball player?

They didn’t need words or grand gestures. 

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

Royce’s Injuries

So, I was scouring through my files on my computer and came across some photos of Craig Olejnik in his actual makeup, close up. As well as models of the prosthetics used to turn him into our beloved Torn Prince, Royce Clayton. I figured I’d post them here where they might be appreciated. 

GORE AHEAD.