#can you tell i like the stoker brothers is it obvious that i like them a lot

[fox-guardian]

idk if anyones asked u this but what's ur fav rarepair in tma ? and or what's the headcanon that u will defend to the grave

im not sure if this is more of a rarepair or a crackship but. jondanny asjldadhlshd I JUST THINK THEY'D BE CUTE TOGETHER mostly as a qpr tho, since i like to imagine that they dated and then split because danny is aro. either that or the equally ridiculous timoliver

and headcanon?? huh. either bee danny (i completely made it up but it's too far to stop now) OR on a more serious note, my headcanon of danny still being alive at the unknowing. it's a small thing and doesn't change the greater story but it adds Flavor and also it's supported by the text so. yeah <3

#fg's answers #asks #the magnus archives #tma #can you tell i like the stoker brothers is it obvious that i like them a lot

[ilovemybooks]

Different dimension? Part 2

Ridoc Gamlyn x reader

Warnings: ⚠️ cursing, how to train your dragon, fourth wing characters/dragons.

....

Hether's POV

As soon as I am past the gate all hell breaks loose cadets running in different direction and dragons killing those who get to close. I look to my left and give my brother one final nod befor running torwds the pull that I feel in the pit of my stomach, and then I hear something no someone multiply someone's " we have got to kill the generals kids they will be favorites with every person they meat because of that emotionless excuse of a mother." I know the first voice without looking Dagger or Dagger the fucking deranged as we all call him. Well so much for just finding a dragon now I have to find Dillen too, so with that I run to the one place I know Dillen would go straight to. The monstrous nightmares a stoker class dragon with substantial speed and strong capibul of setting itself on fire 'this boy really is a Pyromaniack.' As I arrive I can see there's only a good five people here and one just got to close make that four, I just have to tell Dillen to wach his back and then I am on my way I continue to walk and to my surprise none of the nightmares roast me and to my relief I find dillen esaly. "Dillen! Wach your back Dagger is on a hunt for us." I wisper yell at him from behind a rock that I hide behind. "Hether were are you? I can go with you so nether of us is alone when they attack!" "No find your dragon and get to the sky I just came to warn you." With that I leave and the pull is so much stronger that I am practically forced into a run but were am I going?

Ridoc's POV

"Why are we going straight up !?!" I mentally yell at Aotrom. "Oh calm down up there this is how we get to a there dimension." He says it like the most obvious thing in the world. "It is the most obvious thing in the world. Why else would we be going straight up?" " Well no need to be rude." Aotrom cuffes and doesn't respond. We continue up and up and up for a good forty minutes and then after about 10 minutes of flying straight torwds a mountain side Aotrom tells me to get low and hold on tight. After another 5 minutes Aotrom says I can straighten up again I look to my left and see Violet, Rhiannon, and Xaden doing the same and on my right with Garrick and Liam. "Look ahead we are in enemy territory." Aotrom says with a hint of worry in his voice. "What kind of enemy?" I ask and he doesn't respond. 'Well this will be fun.' I think with to myself. Time to meet my dragons mate and her rider. I wonder what her rider looks like?

Hether's POV

The more I run the more I can feel the pull getting stronger so I decided to take a page from Violets book and clime a nearby tree for a better view, and am I glad that I did. In the valley ahead of my is dillen fighting off 5 others probably some of daggers friends 'lovely' I think and clime down to go help my idiot brother live to tomorrow. "Dillen!" I yell once I am close enough for him to here and they all stop fighting to look at me and they split of 3 on Dillen and 2 on me "we have orders to kill you." The one on the left says with a sneer and the one on the right just chuckles and draws his sword as I draw my axe. That charge at the same time and seem to have their moves coordinated 'interesting' I think as one swings for my torso and the other my neck. I can imedently tell which one is the better fighter and of course its the one on the right that dose not use words to try and intimidat ther opponent as the one on the left draws his sword to strike wing beets sound behind me and I don't spare them a glance now is my time to attack and seems Dillen has the same idea we both charge at the same time and there's more wing betts how many are there? "I will take the three on the left you go right." I says to Dillen and he nods the first one is a boy I took my second dagger from in challenges our first week he was not happy about it and tried to kill me after with some of his friends but ended up with a broken arm and his friends left before they could get to hurt. The second is one I have never seen before and the same with the third but they souldent be that hard to beat right? As the first charges I slide under his sword cutting into his calf and taking his knees out from under him shaping his neck once I gain my feet the other two charge at the same time and I pull a small knife from my leg holster driving it into his shoulder as I duck under the seconds sword kicking his side with enough force to send him sowring across the opening we are in. I look to see if Dillen needs help before killing the one that is two feet in front of my with a knife in his shoulder the same way I did to the first but when I look up the third is nowhere to be seen. "Fucking cowered" I say as I go to see if Dillen is alright but before I can I feel eys on my multipul eys as a matter of fact I turn to see dragons but not dragons from here there from Basgiath. And they have riders two but there's also two dragons from or dimension a Razor wip and a Monsteres nightmare. "Hello dreary my name is Windsher daughter of Corinth and Darius." A female voice sounds in my head and the Razor wip looks straight at me? Dillen is sprinting towards the monstrous nightmares for leg and I do the same to the leg of Windsher. As soon as we are mounted we are In the air flying throw loops and dives turns and climes before we report to the roll keeper. Once we land on the flight field I see the same dragons and riders from the valley. 'I wonder what they are doing here?' "They are here because of my mate Aotrom he and his rider Ridoc." Windsher says and I can feel the happiness through the mental bond. 'Interesting'

Ridoc's POV

"We have made it through enemy territory without detection" Aotrom says after another 30 minute flight. "Good I was getting anxious." Aotrom cuffes in amusement. Once we clear the cloud cover I notice that threshing is still going on here and the is not one dragon on the flight field. 'Weird' I think to myself. But as I look to the left I see the courtyard 'there's all the people.' I think "yes but we are going over here" Aotrom says as he moves his head toward a line of trees and I can see someone's silhouette with a long flowing braid in one of the trees. "god's be dammed its another Violet!" I say to Liam and Xaden who hafe moved at some point durring our flight here causing them to laugh and earning me a death glare from Violet. But of course the humor is short lived as we see the person jumping out of the tree and sprinting to the valley in front of her. "Where is she going in such a hurry?" Aotrom cuffes along with Tairn Deigh, Chradh, Feirge, and Sgaeyl. "There's a problem in the valley ahead of us." Aotrom says but two dragons are watching from the mountain side and I can see they are both just as big if not bigger than Tairn. But then again all of our dragons seemed to get bigger the longer we are here. We land on the right of the valley and I see the same flowing black braid bit know I can see who it belongs to. But she is with a boy around a year or so younger than me, " I will take the tree on the left you go right!" And they are off both have amazing fighting skills and she has such speed, stragth and is so graceful too. But the dragons on the side of the mountain are know beside us watching like they are the judges of a trial. With they probably are not going to lie, the girl kills two of her opponents befor the there'd runs like a fucking cowerd. But the boy killed both of his opponents with no problem, the two turn to look at us and seem confused with our presence but before they can ask the dragons from the mountain both seem to have there full attention the boy is first to start sprinting towards the red one then the girl towards the silver one. "Are we going to see your mate or just wach threshing?" I ask Aotrom "you just did the silver razorwip is her." Aotrom says seems that I have some learning to do befor I meat them both.

#ridoc gamlyn x reader #garrick tavis x reader #liam mairi x reader #xaden riorson x reader #fourth wing fanfic

[inklingofadream]

yes tell us the kid au

ok it comes with a title, which is "there is something wrong in this house." Also this is obscenely long and may not even make sense

and all the crack stuff is in the backstory, bc elias is the one doing it and the fics from the kids' perspectives. elias going "actually screw this, I'm making one from scratch" is a time-honored excuse to get lil baby Jarchivist, and it's what we're going with here. but, like, making a kid is a lot of effort, and they can't even talk at first, and Agnes didn't work out anyway

So he adopts. Attempt #1: Timothy Stoker, recently lost his whole family to a tragic accident, marked by the Stranger (he hasn't hit on the ritual idea yet but he figures that having some awareness of the supernatural to start with can't hurt. But for now it's all very normal). He can be very subtle about priming Tim to be Archivist, and what better way to ensure loyalty that to be Literally Family?

Unfortunately for Elias, we've seen how Tim reacts to grief in canon, and it's making drastic life changes and getting angry, depending on how much control he feels like he has and how much support he's getting. And not having control is a big theme in this, so he goes for angry. It rapidly becomes pretty obvious that Tim is not going to be a good Archivist.

So we try again, like within a year of adopting Tim. Sasha is Tim's age, and v lightly marked by the Spiral. She's great, Elias is v excited, Sasha is going to be Archivist.

But he still has Tim. And murdering a kid who's not even to double digits is a bit much, even for Elias. But Tim and Sasha bond hard and fast, which, y'know, Archivists do need Assistants. And connection to a beloved brother is probably a pretty good way to get your Archivist back if they end up in the Lonely or the like. You can't use them as cannon fodder, but he figures that Sasha can have one keeper and he can hire randos to fill the other assistant slots.

So Elias' life is going great. Second part of plan: He needs to get rid of Gertrude... some day, but he wants the time to plan it, and she's still useful. But kids grow up, and he doesn't want to put Sasha in place until he's sure he's got a timeframe nailed down for his Ritual, and he doesn't want Sasha responsible for stopping Rituals. But kids grow up and get other careers and turn into their own people.

(Kids are already their own people, you say. Well, Elias barely treats adults like people sometimes. Obviously he's not going to be any better than the controlling and possessive and manipulative stuff we get with Jon in canon with people who also do not have the ability to fight back in the way adults can. Tim can't run away to Malaysia in this! He can't even get out of the city on his own!)

And Elias finds out that he really likes being a parent (this is not at ALL proportional to the quality of said parenting). He doesn't want to be done. And so he puts into use a lil Web artifact, which is that because I say so (and because the experience of being a child and not getting your opinion considered and all your stuff being filtered through what your parents think feels v Webby, to me) he has his kids take vitamins every night, some of which are normal and some of which are Evil Vitamins of Never Grow Up. (the Evil Vitamins have extensive world-building around how and when they're useful, they won't solve Jonah's dying issue bc they're playing on the kid thing, and he's not a kid. Also they are technically still aging, just v slow)

So Tim and Sasha just kind of. Stay 8 or 9ish. And kids that age aren't that observant. It takes them a looooooonnnng time to figure things out.

Meanwhile, y'know, Elias really does like having kids. And if one super-loyal assistant is good, surely more is better? And also, Tim leveled out when he had Literally Anyone besides Elias (because obviously your Vampire Kids have tutors, you can't exactly send em to school) to bounce off of, maybe another sibling will have the same effect. So if he were to find an entity marked orphan (or... not orphan. I think he straight up steals Martin), why not? So he basically acquires Martin and Jon the same way multiple people I know have ended up with extra kids, which is remembering how cute they are and deciding more is better. The kids take well to each other, and Tim in particular gets his big brother instinct activated hard.

And the thing is. Sasha was supposed to be Archivist, but no one really knows that. He didn't tell anyone. And he likes Jon. Jon is just as curious as Sasha, but also waaaay more susceptible to positive reinforcement (for a long time Elias is Jon's favorite as much as Jon is Elias') and reminds Elias of himself more, because boy. So now Jon is future Archivist and the rest will be his assistants. But for now they're all in Vitamin Limbo

And this all sounds very fluffy and goofy, but the actual matter of the story (though it's maybe more a series of vignettes) this is for is from the kids' POV, with them gradually realizing that there's something subtly not right with Elias, and exploring how they feel trapped, how they catch on to little things, and how each discovery has to be pitched to the other three, with varying success. And then focusing on how Jon especially just. Refuses to see it. And trying to convince him otherwise just puts distance between him and the rest and makes him closer and closer with Elias. And tonally it's kind of like a haunted house story? Only the ghost is what Elias is planning for them, and what he's already doing/done to them. Eventually at least Tim stops taking the vitamins, and then that worsens for him because he has more and more idea of how wrong things are, and can't convince the others, and can't take them all away from Elias if he can, and he feels this overbearing need to protect them all but he can't

#tma #the magnus archives #there is something wrong in this house #elias bouchard #jonathan sims #tim stoker #sasha james #martin blackwood #this is basically using the same stuff that i usually use for jonelias stuff in a family context instead #the time period is loose but the kids end up raised v proper victorian seen and not heard and all their toys are kinda that age #and they dont like. watch tv. so theyre even more isolated #also when things are good theyre v family von trapp just a lil line of adorable doll like children #also tim is the only cis kid. elias may be a regency dude planning to use these kids to start the apocalypse but he IS trans positive #thats part of what makes the realization hurt is that hes the first one to Get It for the younger three #age order is tim>sasha>martin>jon with tim n sasha being the same age give or take half a year adn martin and jon are the same #until they start not taking the vitamins and the age gaps get all wonky and longer #like tim ends up in the 12-15 range and jon is like 7 #when before it was more like 9 or 10 and 7 #and that gap is maintained once jon is allowed to start growing up a bit #(this happens thru elias getting a plan together but also spy vs spy with tim stealing jons vitamins) #also probably this should instead all be written as #jonah magnus #bc its a p long time scale but whatever #if i chuck the web concept for the vitamins they end up flesh instead #and start kinda. draining the kids. so i can have consumptive waif vibes for jon as things Get Dangerous #asks #mine #writing #concepts

[fangirlings-things]

First Costumer

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x female reader

Summary: you just got hired to do the job you always wanted and your first costumer, is no other but a Peaky Blinder

Word count: 2.1K

This is based on the moodboard below, made by my friend. You can find the original post here

A/N: I wrote this for @flowers-in-your-hayr 650 followers celebration. congratulations, love!! you're amazing, thank you for understanding my brazilian jokes lol and I hope you like this 💖

TAG LIST: @sophieshelby ; @charmingvalkyrie ; @inglourious-imagines ; @fairyofvoid ; @locke-writes ; @regalbanshee ; @captainshazamerica ; @lotsoffandomrecs ; @flowers-in-your-hayr ; @too-spoopy-to-be-frukd

You heard the doorbell ring and the sound filled the bookshop. Finally, a costumer. Your very first costumer. How exciting! 

You got down of the ladder you had previously climbed to fix some of the higher shelves and passed your hands through your brown simple dress, making sure it was proper and in order. Mr. Cuthbert had taken a long time to finally accept you as an employee in his establishment and now, you had to make him proud. 

You had always loved books. Since you were just a little girl, you mother had given you novels to read and you grew up living in many different ones from the reality you actually found yourself in. Books were your passion, your refugee, your ideal spot. To be able to work around them and make people happy by buying books, well, it sounded like perfection! 

The costumer took his time to walk through the shop, eyeing the shelves like they were unusual strangers in the street and then, he got to you at the back of the bookshop. Your first costumer was a man. 

He was tall. Not too tall, but just enoguh to make him able to look at some of the upward shelves without having to raise his head too much. His skin was white, giving a nice contrast with the black coat he wore. He had a moustache and you could only see a few strings of his brown hair, due to the cap he wore.

Then, you realized. After taking notice of the cap, the fine clothing made sense. No ordinary man in Birmingham had such fine clothes to wear, especially not in the middle of the week, during the lunch break time of the factories. Oh no, that man absolutely did not work in a factory. That man was a Peaky Blinder. His only bosses were the Shelbys and the Shelbys only. 

"May I help you, sir?" you asked him with a polite smile, pushing to the back of your mind the realization you had just come to. It didn't matter who he was outside Mr. Cuthbert's bookshop. He was a costumer. Who clearly, for the way his eyes were going from one shelf to the other, intended to buy a book. 

He focused his eyes on you and you saw that his stare wasn't harsh or the one of a demon, as many people said the Peaky Blinders were. His eyes were kind, even though there was an agitation in them that you couldn't quite comprehend. Maybe not even he could. "Yes" he said simply and as you kept staring at him, waiting for further information, the man looked even a bit disconcerted, like he wasn't used to having such attention upon him. "It is my sister's birthday this week and Ada, well, she really likes books, has a great shelf of them at her house. So I thought it would be a good idea to you know, give her a new book as a gift"  

You couldn't help but smile. That man, whomever he was, seemed so genuine in everything. You could see the care in his expression when he spoke of his sister. It was a nice thing to see. The stories you had heard about the Peaky Blinders seemed to be all wrong. He was a normal person. Not some crazy, openly violent man. 

"Do you have any specific book in mind?" you asked him, hands joined in front of your body and excitement filling your body because that was apparently going to be a successful sell. The man just squeezed his lips on a thin line, eyes going to the floor  as if he was embarrassed. It got to you. "Don't worry, I am sure we can work something out. What kind of books does she like?" 

He watched as you moved around the place graciously. Clearly you knew every corner of that place, every shelf, every single book and where it was. You looked at a particular spot, frowned then moved on like there wasn't anything interesting for whatever you wanted him to take to Ada. "Well, she's a communist, so she does like politics" 

"Very well" you walked towards the politics shelf, searched the titles, but nothing particularly got your attention or seemed fitting. You turned back to the man. "Does she like classics that have to do with politics?" 

"I think so, what do you have?" he asked, seeming kinda excited for what you would come up with. He accompanied you as you went to shelf on the other side of the corridor and pulled out a book. "Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo. It's centered around the French Revolution" 

The man looked down at the floor again as a quite nervous laugh escaped his mouth. "I don't think that is a good idea. France does not give my family the best memories, you see" 

"You fought the war?" you asked, smile fading a bit because of the seriousness in his tone. Maybe that's where his agitation was from. Maybe, he never did get back from France at all. He only nodded in agreement, still not looking at you. "Thank you, for your service" 

He gave out a little smile, but you knew by the way the corner of his lips didn't rise too much that he was anxious to change the subject. Honestly, see the obvious hurt in him made you want to change it either. "Alright, no France. What about Bram Stoker's Dracula?" 

"Dracula?" he frowned, eyes meeting yours in utter confusion at such a strange name. 

The fact that he didn't knew about it made you smile as you began to describe que novel's story to him with a mysterious tone in your voice to cause suspense. "It's about an old man, Count Dracula, who lives in a castle and feeds on the blood of young women to survive. Sometimes he kills them so they can join him in the after life and also drink blood from innocent people" 

The man laughed due to your clearly forced misteirous tone and the way you raised your eyebrows at him while speaking, seeming to forget the previous sadness that had overwhelmed him with the memories of the war. You were glad for it. "That sounds bloody awful, love" 

You could not help but also laugh, trying to ignore the heat that took a hold of your face when he apparently without thinking, called you love. "It is, actually" then you shrugged, passing your hand through the said novel's cover at the shelf. "But is a fine horror book" you crossed your arms over your chest and squeezed your eyes in his direction. "Be honest with me now, will your sister like this one?" 

He squeezed his lips again, this time his features assumed a expression that clearly said 'sorry'. "I don't think so. Ada is a feminist. I think she would not like a story where a monster man kills women and faces no consequences" 

"That is a very good point" you said with a sight and then turned around, biting your lower lip as you thought and thought about more options. The challenge on your very first sell was being quite exciting and you could say, interesting. Much of it of course, was because of that man. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head and you turned back to the Peaky Blinder with a smile. "What about On the Origin of Species? It's a book about pure knowledge, scientific one, about evolution. No France, no monster that slaughters women" 

The man gave it a minute of thought and then returned your smile. "Knowledge and evolution. It does sounds like Ada" you both felt silent for a moment and then, he cleaned his throat and nodded towards the book you had just gotten into your hands. "I'll take it" 

"Very well" you motioned for him to follow you and then made your way towards the back of the shop again, placing it in the cashier. "You want it wrapped up as a gift?" he quickly agreed and you raised two options of gift wrap in the air. A green and a blue one. He chose the green one. "You can also add a small card if you want" 

"That is nice, thank you" he said and again, as you looked at him, the kindness in his eyes seemed to shine out from everything else. 

You grabbed a gift card from the inside of a box where they were kept and placed a black pen upon it. "You can write it or if you want, I can write it for you" 

"You should write it, I bet your handwriting is better than mine" he said and you chuckled, nodding as you agreed to his request. 

"What do you want it to say?" you waited as he clearly thought about the question, looking unsure. With one of his hands, he took off his cap and then passed the other one through his hair. When he claned his throat, you were ready to start writing. 

"Dear Ada, happy birthday" he looked at you as if that was it but then, seeing the expression on your face that clearly indicated you wished him to talk more, he thought for a second and then continued. " Since you like books so much, I hope you will like this one, that a very nice girl helped me pick" as you wrote with a smile on your face, you did your best not to raise your eyes to meet his. "I know I am not always a very good brother, but I love you. Happy birthday, Arthur" 

"That was beautiful" you told him, letting go of the pen and starting to wrap up the gift carefully, slowly, in no rush to let the Peaky Blinder go away. Arthur. His name was Arthur. It was a beautiful name. Suited him just fine. 

"Alright, then" his eyes went to the floor again, seeming now embarrassed because of your words. 

You finished to wrap the gift in silence, then when it was done, you sighted and looked at the man. "If you want us to deliver the gift at your sister's house, in case you're busy, we have a delivery boy for such" 

"That sounds good, I appreciate that" he replied. 

You nodded in agreement and got a piece of paper, to then grab the pen again. "Can you tell me her adress, please?" he did so, and you wrote it down so the boy Mr. Cuthbert had hired a little while before you could do his part of the job later. "He is supposed to look for Ada...?" you left the question in the air, waiting for him to answer, eyes still on the paper. 

"Ada Shelby" 

Your eyes snapped up on the very same instant. 

Shelby. 

His sister was Ada Shelby. 

He was Arthur Shelby. 

"Something wrong, love?" he asked, and he didn't seem harsh like you expected him to, for the way you not in the slightly hid just how astonished you were to know his identity. His eyes were still kind, but a part of the previous sadness had come back. 

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me" you wrote down Ada Shelby and then left the paper upon the gift, at the corner of the cashier. 

"I'm used to that kind of reaction by now" he said with a nervous laugh, that carried absolutely no humor at all in it. Even if he was indeed used to the said kind of reaction, he clearly did not like it. You felt guilt consume you. "How much do I owe you?" 

You told him the price, still lost in your thoughts and cursing yourself for being so stupid and rude. So rude. He gave you the money, you placed it in the due place. "Have a nice day" he told you and then turned around to leave, placing his cap back in his head and then his hands went to the pockets of his clothes. 

You watched him leaving with a intense feeling of exasperation, tried to think fastly enough to say something and then before you could even really process what you were actually going to do, the words left your mouth. "Mr. Shelby?" he turned back around as he heard you calling, a bit of gentleness in his features. "If you ever need to buy another book, I am sure I can help you find something good" 

His lips curled up in a smile, a pure one. A bit of the guilt you felt left your body like he had just taken it completely away, just by smiling again. "I'll remember that, love" 

And then, Arthur Shelby left the bookshop.

#imagine #x reader #fanfic #imagines #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #arthur x reader #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby fanfic #650followers

[pie-shenanigans]

Other works from the cast of TMA

The magnus archives cast is filled to the brim with talented creatives with over pieces of work and more people should know about them.

First the obvious: rusty quill makes amazing stuff! MAG is magnificent but more people should get to know their other stuff. Im slowly getting through rusty quill gaming and its delightful. If you want to hear Lydia Nicholas (Melanie king) be a stabby knife woman again, listen to Ben Meredith's (Elias) soothing voice without having to simp over a literal murderer and Alex (Martin, director, big boss man) being chaotic this is just the place. I also cant recommend ehough listening to one-shots special episodes, my favourite one is when Sasha (Georgie) gms Helen (Laverne, Melanies therapist), Lydia (Melanie) and Lowrie (editor) as they play a very cheotic and quite horny rpg about being stuck on a cruise ship to Bermuda. The game is by Macguffin and co, Jonny's and Sasha's game company that i will talk about in depth further in the post.

Stella firma is another rusty quill podcast. It is made and stared by the Meredith brothers. I have yet to listen to alot of it but it includes tons of gender fuckery and chaos.

I haven't listened to any of outlanders yet, but i believe it shall be great like everything RQ makes.

RQ also has "Rusty quill streams" that streams in twitch and you can also find on YouTube. It is hosted and stars Mike leBeau (the iconic tim stoker) Nico ( vocal editor, gabe us the kiss). The streams are hilarious and make me want to get into gaming, it is also a great way to support RQ and also get to see content from other of their creators. Last week featured Anil helping Mike playing through dream daddy and it was glorious.

I would be surprised if any of the hardcore TMA fans haven't at least heard of the mechanisms. But just in case:

The mechanisms were a steampunk-cabaret-neo folk band that were active in 2010-2020. The premis of the band is that each of its members plays a mechanism, an immortal cyborg and they all travel together through the universe, singing and telling stories about the tragedies they encounter. Non other than the beloved Jonny Simms was there lead singer, Jonny de'vil, a space cowboy from new Texas. other familier people were band mates aswell, Frank Voss (Basira) is Ashes O'Riley, an arsonists with a bass guitar, Jessica law (nikola orsinov) as the toy soldier who sings and plays the mandolin, ukulele and a variety of other instruments. Tim ledsam (jorden the extinguisher) plays gunpowder tim, the allmother of gender envy that plays the guitar. The Band has four concept albums that tell full tales:

"once upon a time in space" that is a reiteration of classic fairy tales but with lesbians in space.

"Ulysses dies at dawn" that is based in greek mythology and is bluesy and jazzy and wonderful

"High noon over Camelot" which is rooted in the tales of king Arthur and the round table, but as a wild west spaghetti movie of sorts in space. It has a main trans character and i lovely poly relationship that i have yet to see better represented in other media.

And "the bifrost incident", based on Norse mythology in a "murderer on the Orient express" setting, lesbians in space and a non binary main character.

Other then that they have two albums that are made out of short stories, many of them a backstory for fhe characters named "tales to be told" and "tales to be told II". They also have a standalone song about frankinstein and a live recording of there final show,that includes a few new songs, lovely banter and a revision if some ot their older works.

I cannot recommend listening to them enough.

Macguffin and co is Jonny and Sasha's game company. They design micro settings for RPG that some are free and some are patreon exclusive. I have yet to play any of the games myself but read through all the ones available online and listened to the acctual play podcast episodes of them ("dusk hollow pd" on MAG and "not far to Bermuda" on rqg). The settings are thought out so well and the attention for details is amazing. Jonny and sasha also stream on twitch regularly and the streams are a delight.

Sasha also has a podcast with the one and only Jessica law called "Jane austentations" in which they watch together all the film adaptations of Jane Austen novels and review them. Sasha knows an awful lot about Jane Austen, Jessica doesn't, but she has a surprising amount of knowledge about period accurate plants. The podcast itself is hilarious and Sasha's and Jessica's dynamic is great. Sasha also runs a blog under the same name were you can find other reviews.

Speaking of Jessica law, she is a great musician and i love her music so much. All of her work is available on Spotify and on bandcamp, she has a concept album called "lovers and fighters" which is a masterpiece in my opinion and five other albums. Her storytelling abilities blow my mind every time and her voice is beautiful.

Fay Roberts, the voice behind daisy is a poet and spoken word artist. Their work is so good! I cant explain how wonderful it is. They made " the selkie: a song if many waters" that is a poetry collection/ story that they wrote and preformed on bandcamp, and its one of my favourite works if litreture ever, it is heartbreaking and mystical and beautiful and makes me sob very easily. They also have quite a bit of spoken word poetry published online, both on bandcamp and on YouTube and i can't recommend enough for you to go listening to it.

Please go check out these works! They are all a delight and you should go and support the wonderful people behind them!

Also, feel free to add to this post and also tell me if I missed anything.

#rusty quill podcast #rustyquill #the magnus archives #TMA #jonny simms #jessica law #fay roberts #lydia nicholas #RQ #rq

[literatehiss]

Questions Unanswered

Written for Day 6 of Jon Elias week.

Prompts: Feyfolk AU & “I’ll always be here for you”

Jon belongs to his Archive as it belongs to him. There are no people there, just the souls of the unwise trapped in inanimate objects. A knock at the door changes all of that Read on AO3 here Jon flitted between the shelves of his Archive, a vast library where he had documented every secret and lie and deal that his superiors had ever made. He had been born in the Archive and no other soul had ever stepped foot in there as far as he knew.

Not that he was completely alone.

There were the Stoker brothers, humans who had sold themselves to one of the more powerful fey in order to protect the other. They were both alive, would never die, trapped forever in a pair of portraits that side by side. They could talk but not hear each other, could see but could not focus on the portrait of their brother. Jon knew it was terrible for them, and did what he could to pass messages between them, though the older brother often became hostile, blaming Jon for their predicament.

Miss Sasha was stuck in a mirror, had been stuck in there by a fey who had stolen her Name, her body, and her life along with it. She was Jon’s favourite. Polite and kind and would talk to him about the organization of his Archive.

The less said about Martin the better. A book, an object practically sacred to Jon, with a half-rate poet’s soul bound to the pages. He couldn’t stand poetry and especially not by a being that only seemed able to spew out strange vaguely melancholic and romantic poems. Miss Sasha was somehow able to talk to the soul stuck inside. Yet another human unable to stop themselves from making a terrible deal apparently.

There were others. A bleeding knife that he could hear angry screaming from when he touched it, it seemed to know him and had nothing good to say, though it mostly spoke nonsense. A still-alive wolf head with eerily human eyes that still had the sword that killed it stuck in its skull, the wolf head had stopped snapping at him and had been half-cordial the last time he had walked passed, apparently, the sword belonged to her best friend who was still alive and on the surface, if not more than a little bit traumatized. A doll with a little cloth cat eternally twirling in a music box, no music played, just overlapping voices pleading for someone to remember and snap out of it. Unfortunately, the doll seemed unable to clarify what it meant, otherwise he would have tried to help. He did quite like the doll’s little cat.

Jon reached up towards a book labeled “Lukas”, he had never read it, had only seen that the name was carved into the thick leather in a way that implied that the creature the leather had come from had still been alive when it had been done. It had been one of the items already here when he had awoken, and so according to the rules that he had awoken already knowing, Jon knew not to open it. The Lukas book did have one ability that Jon prized above all else. If he put it next to the Martin book, the poet would shut up and would stay that way even after the Lukas book had been taken away, at least for a little bit. The poet’s words had become increasingly saccharine and that was simply not allowed in Jon’s Archive. His fingers had just brushed the leather when he heard something new. The sound of a door opening.

Wings buzzing in frantic fear and excitement, Jon flew over to the only door to the Archive. It had always been locked as far as Jon knew, not that he had ever checked, he couldn't leave after all.

A man. Maybe?

A fey. Much more likely.

He looked human enough to Jon’s inexpert eyes, though there were a few obvious changes upon closer inspection. Grey feathers were interspersed in his hairline, teeth a little too sharp when he smiled, cold grey eyes unblinking.

“Hello my Archivist.” Jon hovered in the air a few meters away, “Come now Jonathan, come down here.” and Jon simply had no choice in the matter, his body following the orders before he could even decide whether he wanted to or not. His feet touching the ground and walking up to the other. The barely used muscle that was Jon’s magic lashed out at the other’s actions.

“Who Are You? What Are You Doing In My Archives?”

The other shivered before he laughed.

“A little rude Archivist, don’t you think? I am here to see you, make sure you are doing well. You are very precious to me after all.”

“I am?”

“Of course, the jewel in my collection,” and with this he gestured to all the other objects in the Archive.

Jon was faintly aware that he could hear the shouts of the others, The angry Stokers’ shouts, Miss Sasha’s pleading, a crescendo of voices from the music box and a particularly mournful poem coming from Martin. Despite that, they all faded into the background as he looked at the fey in front of him.

“You can call me… Elias my dear,” and Jon could tell in the way the name flowed over his tongue when he muttered it to himself that it held no power, an alias then. The other came up to him, tracing pointed nails over his cheek. “ You must so many questions all bottled up inside that wonderful head of yours.”

And he was right, Jon had awoken with hundreds of questions that had never gotten answered and the pile had only continued to to build over time.

“As a gift, for our first meeting,” A lie, Jon could taste it on the other’s words but he couldn’t work out where the lie was? This was their first meeting after all, or was it not a gift? “You can ask me any question you want, and I will answer honestly. Only the one of course, don’t want you getting greedy.”

Jon stilled, the other still tracing his features and running his hand through his hair. One question. He could find out anything, anything at all.

.

.

.

“Why am I alone here?”

Elias laughed.

“Oh darling, you have never been alone, not really. I will always be here for you, I am always watching.”

#joneliasweek2021

[rachellevic]

As I sit here, thinking about the end of supernatural, reading all the beautiful tributes and articles, I feel a very great sense of loss. Not because I believe this is the end, the real end, that’s not possible with the Winchesters, but there is something much deeper going on and I can’t quite put it into words, so maybe that’s why I’m writing it down.

Maybe it’s a little bit selfish, maybe I’m just not ready to watch to ‘the end’. Rarely has a show done this to me, and believe me, I have a ‘brand’ of television that I get into. Confession, I only started watching supernatural because someone told me that Kim Manners was a producer on it and I was a huge, I MEAN HUGE, fan of the X-files, and I didn’t feel this way when that show ended. It was also several season in before I started watching supernatural because, truth be told, I very strongly dislike ‘vampires and werewolves’ stories and what media has done to lore and historical context; I’m looking at you Bram Stoker, you started this and opened the door to things like sparkles and Stockholm Syndrome and that’s not okay. But Supernatural had something that I had been missing in TV, in life, and I very quickly became a fan...thank you for fixing vampires and werewolves by the way.

I like endings. I like beginnings. I love the journey to get from beginning to end. Maybe I am feeling something more than a loss of a show, but a loss of a way of life, a path, the road...I don’t know. To be honest Supernatural is one of the last shows that I have tuned in to on the regular, week after week, to watch because the way we watch TV has changed. The way people experience a serial show has changed. I don’t know if Supernatural would have been what it was if it had found a life on a streaming service to begin with. But they didn’t exist, or were just in their infancy when supernatural started. What I will miss the most, I think is the episodes in between. Rarely do you find a show that can start a plot episode one and carry it over many season, reinventing itself, playing off its past and building a future. It has built such a future that regardless of how it end, whether they die or they live, they will always live, they will always live in the stories that we know and the stories that we will tell. Jared and Jensen will go on to do other things, as they had done other things before this, but they will always be Sam and Dean and whenever you see their faces, your first thought will be Sam and Dean. Like Anthony Hopkins will always be Dr. Hannibal Lector (so will Mads Mikkelsen, just saying) and Colin Firth will always be My Mr. Darcy. Misha, though an antagonist to us all, is literally an angel in real life. I said what I said, change my mind.

This thing we call Gish has it’s own life now, and will continue to do great things, but we are deeply bound to our Supernatural roots. Looking back on 15 seasons, the good the bad and the ugly, (*cough* Bugs *cough*), what would the show have been if it were a max of 9 or 12 episodes a season? I mean, honesty, if you are a fan of Lucifer, who has watched it on Fox and now on Netflix, it just isn’t ringing the same. It’s good, but there is something missing and I think what that is, is the passage of time. The episodes in between the big plots, the monsters of the week, and the goofy playful, ‘I killed Hitler’ And ‘Sam hit a dog’ moments. We know a milk run is never just a milk run, that life is big and bold and in your face, even though it seems a little slow right now, and that sometimes, staring a books and computers too long is going to force you out into the world to just look for some trouble. Supernatural has taught me a lot about life and what is out there in the world, the good, the bad, the people, this planet we live on and some of our fundamental flaws as humans. Nothing is ever going to be perfect, but if we work at it, we can touch perfection. It’s the moments and the anticipations, it may also be the glimpses of joy when the world is crashing in around us.

It has been a long time, 15 seasons, 320 plus episodes, and yes it does feel like an end, but not for Supernatural, for the way we watched TV. I like a mini series as much as the next person but I don’t think you can do what supernatural did in a handful of episodes even if you can keep yourself going for as long. I don’t think a community like this will ever happen again in the same capacity because the interactions on episode night wont be the same if they just throw everything up onto a streaming service. We have been so lucky with this show and the cast’s willingness to interact with us as much as they do and recognize the power of the fandom as a force for good. Networks were always just looking for viewership, but seemed to forget that the viewers make or break a show and I feel like Supernatural found a way to take views and unite them, to appreciate the fans and see the power that people can have when hey get behind something. That wasn’t the networks doing, it was the cast, it was the fans, I think that is very obvious. So, maybe this is where my feeling come from, maybe I just don’t see how a show doing as well, doing so much good outside of the show, making money, bringing in viewers, being the longest running show of its kind, could just be cut off when there could have been so much more to be done...Do I blame the network for the fall of TV and that they are grasping at straws for an old way of viewership? Yes, yes I do. I believe that they see the streaming services have been a mighty blow to their structure, that it has made TV so much more accessible and frankly so much less annoying with no commercials, but what I think the streaming services of the world have wrong is the limited number of episode and the anticipation of a new episode week after week. Sure, I hate a hiatus as much as the next person, and when I want to watch 15 season of supernatural all in one shot, I do have the DVDs so F you Netflix for taking it down and putting it back up and taking it down again only to put it back up, I have the collection and I can watch it any time I want! But, where is my live viewing party, the gasps and shock you can literally hear over twitter. The standing and singing Carry On when you know it’s going to play. You don’t get that binge watching a show on Netflix...Supernatural is so much bigger than the money maker it was for the networks.

Truth be told, I’m kind of over TV. I rarely turn the thing on in the off season. I didn’t watch anything new this whole pandemic, but instead went back to the familiar, the comfortable. I marathoned all of the X-files in order from beginning to end with two movies, two event series, and cried over their Kim Manners tribute. (Word to the wise, it may not be the best show to watch in a pandemic with all it’s government conspiracies and alien viruses...but the 90’s fashion in the early seasons, and so many actors who we know and love from supernatural were just babies back then, and yes almost everyone is in it. Baby Crowley, Baby Lucifer, Baby Meg (First Meg not Second Meg...sorry Rachel!)) And when I was finished with The X-files I jumped right back into season one of Supernatural.

Supernatural has kept me coming back every week, and it’s been around for almost half of my life (do we even count the years you can’t remember?). I’m about as old as Sam, I was in university when I started watching supernatural but I’m also an older child and I grew up on my dad’s music, and he had a classic car that I remember but my brother doesn’t and my dad isn’t with us anymore (2012). I found so much to connect with in Supernatural, like I relate to Dean on a level that I can’t even explain; from having a little brother to pie is the superior celebratory dessert - also pie for breakfast is totally okay not because there is fruit in it but because I’m an adult and I’ll do what I want! Go team free will! Does that make me a Dean girl? I don’t think so, because You can’t have one without the other. This whole time, it has been about family, more specifically siblings. Dean isn’t Dean without Sam and Sam isn’t Sam without Dean. But yes I’m a Dean girl for other reasons.

I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, I doubt it, but supernatural hits the family feels, it came into my life at a time of transition, it was there when my dad died, and has been there for 15 years. Thinking back to the ‘where do you see yourself in 10 years’ question, and not being at all where I’d thought I’d be, there has been something very constant in the inconsistencies of the road so far. Remember back in season one when we didn’t even know demons were a thing and now our biggest issue is literally Chuck? What a metaphor for adult life. For dealing with this crazy world and society and all the weird that seems to be oozing out of the pours of humanity. We’ve grown with this show. I’m not going to say grown up, because I sure didn’t get any taller in 15 year, but I did evolve, and maybe in some ways I have also digressed, but we keep pressing forward because no one else is going to save my world but me.

Supernatural reminds me of so many part of my life. I saw so much of the X-Files in there, the show that formed my younger years, and was devastated when Kim Manners passed away. There was a familiarity in Supernatural. The idea of seeing Sam and Dean come back, in event series (like the x-files) gives me hope, because we know that death isn’t really death for the Winchesters, but there will be something very profoundly missing from the world going forward. Maybe it’s the last of the magic, something that I’m holding onto in my adult life from time before, the spark that has managed to light up a really strange time, and I don’t just mean 2020. Maybe its a Millennial thing, I am an elder Millennial, right on the edge of two generations and I’m not even 40 yet. I’ve lived in the 80s, 90s, 2000s, 10s and here were are almost through the first year of the 20s (its going to be a very different kind of roaring 20s but um...very similar. History repeating itself a little too literally at times)

I don’t think the Supernatural Family is going anywhere any time soon, I don’t feel like I’m losing that, but this is an end for us. Maybe it’s the end of one book and the beginning of the next. Maybe it’s now our time to carry the legend of the Winchesters forward. I can only hope that somewhere, somehow we’ll see the world expand, the characters lives on; this isn’t the end of the road, but I guess the road can only go so far. I don’t want it to be over. I feel the loss, the lump in my throat, the tears in my eyes that I am fighting back even though no one is going to see them. It’s all good. All good things come to an end, or do they? Regardless, we’ll always have Tuesdays.

Carry on, everyone. I hope that you’ll be okay. Sorry for the long rambling journal entry that didn’t actually come to any real conclusions...thanks John! (Oh yeah, my dad’s name was John too...)

#supernatural #SPNFamilyForever #theroadsofar #lastdaysofSPN #theend

#supernatural #spnfamilyforever #supernatural family #spn final season #the end

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [11/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #haunting #paranormal investigator

First Chapter

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

Author’s Note: I decided to upload this today instead of tomorrow as I have a final paper due Friday and if I'm gonna concentrate on finishing it and not writing fanfic, I need to put this up now :P Enjoy the BatFam feels.

________________________________________________________________

 A day later and Jason is still stewing in anger—and, if he’s being honest—a bit of hurt. Even after reuniting, even after listening to what Jason had to say, and trying to get him to come home—Bruce still can’t be convinced to deal with the Joker.

Or at the very least stand aside and let Jason do it.

It’s like he’s trying to protect my non-existent virtue or some kind of innocence I never really had.

Does Bruce even actually remember him anymore? Or has he built up some false memory in his head that’s turned the boy Jason was into some clone of Dick?

The obvious, adult way of finding out would be to drive over to the manor and go for Round Two in confronting Bruce, but that’s a journey he’s not ready to take yet. Especially since the emotionally stunted man child that is the Dark Knight might take that as Jason coming to grovel for forgiveness, which just…no.

It’s decided. Jason will sit and sulk in his office and pretend Bruce and all of his Bat-drama doesn’t exist. He has work to do, anyhow.

The phone rings and Jason smirks.

“Like I said,” he tells himself smugly and picks it up, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk. “Beyond Investigations, Victor Shelley speaking.”

“First of all, you have a really warped sense of humor choosing that as your civilian identity,” a familiar voice tells him, and Jason’s stomach flips a little as he nearly slides off his chair.

“Well, if it isn’t my esteemed former stalker,” he drawls, then winces because it’s not exactly his best line. “You can’t tell me it’s not funny, in the gallows kind of way.”

“If you wanted gallows, I’m surprised you didn’t go with Vlad Stoker,” Tim Drake remarks.

“That would be cliché. And Stoker’s overrated. Also, he once demanded all the gay writers be imprisoned, which ain’t cool,” Jason replies with an easy enjoyment. “But I doubt you’re calling to talk early horror literature with me. Gotta say, it’s the first time I’ve ever waited more than two days for someone to call me when I give them my number.”

Shit. That was a little more flirting than he intended.

“That leads to second of all,” Tim says, either missing the innuendo or ignoring it completely. “Care to explain why, after you asked me not to say anything to B about you being here, you ratted me out to him?”

That’s…not what he was expecting. Jason sits up, suddenly serious. “Ratted you out? What are you talking about?”

“He came back home after that thing downtown with Freeze yesterday completely shaken because he ran into you, and apparently you let it slip that I knew you were back and didn’t tell anyone.”

There’s more than a little irritation in Tim’s voice there, and Jason’s heart picks up a bit in worry. He thinks back to the encounter the night before, trying to figure out when he would have outed Tim. He can’t think of anything.

Then he remembers his parting words.

The blood rushes to his face.

If Bruce figured out he was talking about Tim with such a throwaway comment, he worries what else he might have inferred.

Don’t think about it too closely. Worry about putting Tim in his crosshairs.  

He groans. “Sorry, my bad.”

“Apparently I should have been the one asking for a week’s grace,” Tim goes on dryly.

“Honestly, I wasn’t thinking,” Jason tells him. “Talkin’ to B always gets my blood pressure up, and then my mouth just starts to run.”

“No kidding.”

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

There’s a pause, and then, “No more than normal. A couple of years ago that sort of thing would have really messed with my head, but these days I can deal.”

“What happened a couple of years ago?”

Tim pauses again, and even though Jason can’t sense auras or ghosts through telephone lines, he’s pretty sure that the dark aura constantly surrounding the younger man is behind that.

“Let’s just say I learned that Brue can be myopic about certain things,” Tim says at last. “Either he’s entirely focused on what’s right in front of him, or some arbitrary future end game. He doesn’t really…absorb the things that happen between those two points.”

Jason blinks. “That’s a scary kind of accurate.”

“That’s what I do. I think and I know things.”

Jason can’t hold back a scoff.

“Did you…did you just misquote Game of Thrones?”

Tim lets out a somewhat startled laugh. “I guess I did. Totally unintentional, I promise. Although, you get points for catching it.”

“Points for what? Is there a prize?”

 “Even if there was, I’d be keeping it. I’m still ticked off at you for telling on me to B.”

“And I still feel bad about that. I owe you a drink.”

No, no you don’t. No drinks, no nothing. Off-limits, remember?

“Still not old enough to drink, Jason,” Tim replies, voice sounding less irritated and weary and more…amused? Fond even?

Then he hangs up, leaving Jason staring at the receiver of his phone in puzzled frustration.

“This isn’t going to end well for me, is it?”

“No,” Sheila tells him from where she’s lingering across the room, “it’s not.”

Jason lets his head fall onto his desk.

With the ice now broken with Tim and Bruce (or at least as broken as it can get given the latter’s inability to process anything resembling emotions), Jason pretty knows his days of privacy are likely at an end.

He completely expects the requisite visitations of various Family members who will no doubt have been told he’s alive.

Both the ones I knew and the one I didn’t…

If he weren’t pretending indifference, he would have expected Dick to be the first to show up, all passion and anger. He doesn’t have many memories of his predecessor-slash-older-brother-figure where he wasn’t furious about something—almost always Bruce related. To Jason, he only seemed to have two settings: coddling and wanting to pick a fight.

Jason’s not sure which of those he wants to encounter just now.

Turns out his intuition about Dick being his first visit is completely off.  

Instead, he wakes one night from a dead sleep by a sense of presence, both physical and spectral.

There’s a kid standing at the edge of his futon, swathed in Robin’s colors but with the aura of a predator lying in wait. He can’t be more than twelve, and there’s just something about the set of his shoulders and clench of his jaw that screams Bruce.

He’s also not alone.

Outside the open window that the kid obviously used to break in, a ghostly figure in a voluminous green robe looms, hissing imprecations at Jason’s wards from the decapitated head it holds in its hands.

Jason blinks, intrigue cutting through his sleep-dulled senses. Considering the kid is Talia’s, he obviously has some League of Assassins training. Given that, Jason would have expected there to be a lot more ghosts following the kid around. Either he hasn’t killed very many people beyond the one by the window, or the ones he has didn’t leave anything unfinished.

Either way, this brat’s dangerous.

“You know who I am?” Robin challenges although it’s more a statement of fact.

“Chip off the old block is what you are,” Jason grumbles, sitting up—slowly, in case the hard-looking kid thinks he’s about to try something. He’d rather not get into another Wayne beatdown so soon after his encounter with Bruce. “Did he actually teach you the menacing-people-in-the-dark thing, or is it genetic?”

“What is your purpose for returning to Gotham?” the boy demands, ignoring the question.

“Best chili dogs in the world,” Jason shoots back, reaching for the small table beside his fold-out bed and the carton of cigarettes there.

“Stow your flippant remarks, Todd, I will have my answer whether you give it voluntarily or after I’ve loosened a few of your teeth.”

“Big words for someone probably still losing their own baby teeth. What are you, six?”

“I won’t tolerate any attempts to shove your way back into Father’s life,” the boy insists. “We already have one failure lingering about where he shouldn’t be, no need for a second.” He pauses, tilts his head to one side, and his mouth pulls into a cold smirk. “Or rather, you were the first, weren’t you?”

Jason narrows his eyes. “You know there’s a headless guy in a green curtain following you around, right? I’d think really hard about what B considers a failure before throwing that word at other people.”

The kid’s mouth goes white around the edges—touchy subject, apparently—and moves into a crouch like he’s about to dive across the room. He pauses though, fingers touching his hear, and then scowls.

“That Daddy calling you out for missing curfew?” Jason prods.

“This isn’t over!” the kid snaps, and then like he’s making a point, whips a Batarang at Jason’s face.

By the time Jason’s reached up to catch it, the brat and his ghost have vanished.

“Well, that was fun,” Jason mutters, bemused and confident he won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

He spends the rest of the night and early morning first checking emails and then researching. John sent him a bunch of information on kodoku, the technique Jason couldn’t remember in conjunction with the thing attracting negative energy to Tim.

It’s not exactly what he was thinking of, but even if it doesn’t help him figure out that conundrum, it might offer an inkling or two of how to deal with the ever-present Joker problem.

Need to read up on it more before I can know for sure.

His stomach growls and he decides to table it for now. There’s a 24-hour breakfast place down the street actually does bangers and mash, which he’s been craving since leaving London.

Instead, there’s a knock at the door.

Guess I’m putting off breakfast for a bit longer. Oh well. Potential client.

Jason forces himself to put on a normal, welcoming face and goes to open the door.  

What he doesn’t expect to find is a certain English butler standing in the shitty hallway just outside his office, with a bulky canvas bag in his arms and a disapproving look on his face that only just falters as their eyes meet.

It’s as if the air has been punched out of Jason’s lungs because if there’s anyone he has missed than anyone else since he’s been away, it’s Alfred.

“Master Jason,” the older man says, somehow managing to keep his voice from wavering, and god, he sounds the same. “I am sure in instilled at least a rudimentary etiquette into you as a boy. Therefore, you can imagine my disappointment upon learning you have been in Gotham for several weeks now and did not come to call at the manor.”

Jason can’t hold back the slightly hysterical chuckle at that, because trust Alfred to act like he’s been on some kind of extended vacation, instead of six feet under and insane. Yet, it doesn’t feel as dismissive or repressing as it would from Bruce.

“You know me, Alf,” he says through a suddenly dry mouth. “That stuff never took.”

“So it would seem.”

They exchange looks, both sizing up the other and then Alfred raises an eyebrow. Jason shakes his head like a sleepwalker and indicates the older man should come in.

Alfred moves smoothly across the threshold of the tiny office, frowning at the disarray (and mostly at the futon).

“Given the fact you’ve only recently, er, moved in, I thought it best to arrive with provisions.”

He sets the paper bag down on Jason’s desk and removes a box containing a hot plate, a kettle and what appears to be a package of tea. Though his back is turned, there’s a tension in his shoulders and a minor tremor that, when Jason cranes his head, he realizes are from shaking hands.

When Alfred turns around, Jason can’t hold back from reaching over and enveloping him in a hug.

It’s so different from the awkward thing with Bruce, and even though Alfred has never been the hugging type, he holds Jason just as tightly.

They stay like that for several moments, before Alfred speaks again, his voice tense like he’s speaking around a lump in his throat. “You have certainly grown into your various limbs, my boy.”

“Yeah…yeah, I guess I did…”

Jason tells Alfred everything.

He doesn’t skip any of the details the way he did with Tim and, to an extent, with Bruce. Because the fact is, he doesn’t know Tim, not really, and he knows Bruce too well. Alfred won’t look at him with pity or as something damaged; there’s pain in the way he watches Jason, but also an overwhelming and unquestionable relief.

Alfred isn’t one to cry, but his eyes gleam wetly as Jason relates how he woke in his coffin and the trial of digging himself out.

“I didn’t remember it for a while,” he admits. “Mostly it’s what comes back in nightmares. I guess it’s so clear because it’s the only thing that happened to me for another year. I was in a coma for about as long.”

“And no one knew who you were,” Alfred murmurs dully. “Everyone thought you were already dead.”

“…yeah.”

“My dear boy…if we had known…”

“Can’t change the past, Alf,” Jason shrugs, trying to play it off. “And even if you had known, I wasn’t me for a long time. Wouldn’t have wanted you to go through that.”

“And yet…somehow, you rallied,” Alfred says, determined. “You recovered.”

“I guess you could say that,” Jason says with a bitter twist of the mouth. “Not sure people would call seeing ghosts ‘recovered’.” He exhales. “I do see ‘em, Alf—all the time. I didn’t know what it was I the beginning, and…that made things harder. I was so out of it; I couldn’t tell when I was talking to someone alive or someone dead. Everyone at the hospitals thought I was insane. Bet you can guess what happened next.”

“Master Timothy…was reluctant to tell me when I asked,” the old man admits. “I’m astounded anyone in the system would have thought Arkham of all places was the appropriate place for you.” He clenches his fists together, no doubt imagining using them on whoever made that particular decision. “But Mr. Constantine, he rescued you?”

“Yeah,” Jason leans back, crossing his arms. “If he hadn’t shown up, I’d still be rotting away there. It was completely by chance, too. An old mate of his called in a favor with him, wanted to prove his sister was possessed and not bat-shit crazy.” Alfred shoots him a reprimanding look and Jason shrugs. “Sorry. Anyway, turns out she was crazy. John was keen to get out of there as soon as possible and happened to pass my room on the way out—he heard me talking to one of my many spectral roommates. He could sense the energy and when he went to look, he could see ‘em too.”

“And thus discovered that your supposed insanity was not quite so clear-cut,” Alfred determines, looking a mite triumphant.

“Not exactly. I’d been driven almost beyond the point of no return by then. If I’d been there much longer, it’d have been too late. But John could tell I was a medium. He decided I wasn’t supposed to be there and busted me out—then decided it’d be dangerous to let me wander around on my own like that. Been with him ever since. Three years of trying to heal what that asshat clown did to my brain and train myself not to lose it when I get rushed by a stampede of dead people.”

“Then I can only be grateful to him,” Alfred says. “Should you speak to Mr. Constantine in the near future, do tell him he will always have a place to stay at the manor should he need it.”

Jason laughs. “I don’t see him coming out this way any time soon. And I doubt B would be open to that arrangement.”

“You let me worry about Master Bruce. As for you—is there any point in reminding you that you also have a place to stay should you tire of this…urban setting?”

“This is my home, Alf,” Jason replies, at least halfway apologetic. “The manor might have...become that if I’d been there longer. Maybe.” He spares a moment’s thought for the little boy that wanted nothing more than to become Batman when he grew up. “But not now. I’m too—I’ve got my own mission now.”

Alfred nods, mouth turned downward. Jason tries to pretend he doesn’t notice the sad gleam in his eye.

“In the hope that your mission is not so all-consuming as Master Bruce’s, I shall still keep a guestroom at the ready. I…suspect returning to your old room would harm more than heal.”

And this is why Jason always loved Alfred. He gets it. Even when he’s hoping for the impossible.

“Guess I can live with that,” Jason says.

 “I do expect you to call for dinner at some point in the future. Perhaps not until you’re more settled. But surely you can sacrifice an hour or two for a pot roast dinner.”

Jason’s mouth immediately waters.

“Oh, that’s playing dirty, old man,” he tells him seriously.

“Having lived in Gotham this long, it’s hardly a surprise that I, too, can affect nefariousness when the occasion calls for it.” There’s a buzzing sound and Alfred digs into his pocket for his mobile phone and then heaves a sigh in a very familiar way. “Master Damian’s school. I’m afraid I must attend to this.”

“Ten o’clock and he’s already in trouble,” Jason whistles. “Beating my old record, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Alfred agrees seriously. He stands then, looks like he wants to hug Jason again but manages to keep control of himself this time. “Seeing you again is a gift, Master Jason. I hope you will allow me to impose on your hospitality again in the future?”

“You’re welcome here any time,” Jason says, warm and sincere. “I’m…it’s really good to see you again, Alf.”

The old man nods then continues to gaze at Jason a few beats longer, as if to make sure he really is seeing him, and then heads for the door. Jason sees him out, watches him until he vanishes around the corner, and then sags heavily against the doorpost to his office.

A bone-deep exhaustion that has nothing to do with sleep deprivation washes over him.

“'Stay under the radar’, I said,” he mutters to himself. “'Don’t let the Family know I’m here'. That was the plan. There was a reason for the plan…”

A reason that was supposed to guard against an estranged father and attractive replacement and loving butler.

(Well, to be fair, he didn’t know that ‘attractive replacement’ was on his list, but it clearly should have been.)

At least I got the really hard reunions out of the way. Except for Barbie, but I doubt she’d drag herself up a flight of stairs just to see me. Might be able to avoid that one a bit longer…

Honestly, he's kind of afraid of having to look Barbara Gordon in the eyes. There's so much pain between them, all caused by the same evil.

As it turns out, Jason’s next visitor is somehow more overwhelming. Or at least starts out that way.

He’s shuffling through the hallway to his door with a bag of take-out that evening, and suddenly the air becomes cold and suffocating. Jason winces, tries to breathe slow and measured against the cold.

“Whoever you are, can you just…stay where you are for a minute?” he grunts, fumbling with his keys to jimmy the door open. Silence is the only response, but he takes that as acquiescence.

Well, that’s rare. A creepy stalker that actually listens.

He practically falls into the office, the constricted sensation in his lungs vanishing as soon as he crosses the threshold.

Wards are still working. Good.

“Okay, you can come in now,” he says, putting his groceries on his desk and turning around.

He almost does a double-take.

The person that glides into his office is a small Asian girl, maybe an inch or two shorter than Tim, and deceptively dainty looking. Deceptive, because Jason can see the ghosts crowding the hallway behind her, clawing at the doorway and keening and cursing at her in a myriad of languages.

“How in the hell does someone that looks like you have that big a body count?” he asks, halfway between impressed and horrified.

The girl’s face remains blank, but her eyes skitter away, as if in shame. Jason immediately feels like a tool.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean it that way. It’s just…you’re just a kid.”

“Older than you,” she tells him in clear but accented English. She cocks her head to one side, studying him in a way that is almost as invasive as any of the mind-readers he met while working for John. And then she smiles and says, “Little brother.”

Whatever he expected, that wasn’t it. Jason blinks.

“…What.”

She points to herself. “Cassandra. Wayne.”

“Wayne,” he repeats, and then makes the connection and snorts. “Of course. Most people collect stamps. B collects orphans.” He wanders over to his desk and sits down heavily. “What’d he bring you in for? Me, it was boosting tires off the Batmobile.”

Cassandra Wayne’s eyes widen in surprise and then sparkle with amusement and delight.

“So, what brings you here? Come to stare at the clan screw-up?”

“Curious,” she tells him.

“About?”

“They said you see…differently,” she says.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s…comforting,” she says, hesitating on the word like she’s not sure it’s the right one.

“Why’s that?”

“I see different too.”

Jason eyes her, then the myriad ghosts lingering beyond the words. He nods, serious. “I bet you do.”

She smiles at him.

He kind of can’t help be charmed by her, despite the vicious insults being hurled at her by her ghostly entourage.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Close that door so I can hear myself think, and you can stay for supper. I’ve got too much for just me.” He nods at the bags which contain what was supposed to be both tonight’s meal and tomorrow’s lunch. “Not sure if you eat souvlaki, but—”

“I eat anything,” she replies and sits in one of the chairs by his desk.

“Same here,” Jason agrees, handing her one of the Styrofoam containers. “Just promise me you won’t eat it with a fork and knife.”

She makes a face. “I am not Bruce.”

“Thank the gods for small miracles…”

To Be Continued

________________________________________________________________

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#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytim #fanfic #prompt: supernatural #jaytim fic #drama #family #angst #supernatural #feels #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #cassandra cain

[multifandomimagin3s]

May I have a ship for (twilight,Harry Potter, and suicide squad) I’m really short, green eyes, a little tan, i have curly shoulder length hair. I love horror movies and rollercoasters I can be clingy and jealous sometimes, I joke around a lot and play fight.

Twilight

I ship you with Felix!

At first, I thought about shipping you with Emmett, but Ithink the dynamic between you and Felix would be so cute~

Felix is a tall boi (Daniel Cudmore is like, 6ft 7”) so theheight different would be amazing; he’d definitely be the type to tease you forit, but if anyone else were to do the same he’d be the first to tell them tocut it out. Since he’s a vampire, he’s very cautious when he play-fights withyou – you’re a squishy human, and he’s essentially made of concrete. He’sterrified that he’ll break you.

He hasn’t really seen normal human eye colours in a long,long time; sure, the tourists that are drawn in by Heidi are human – but he never really looks at them before he... *cough* eats. Everyone within the Volturi itself have red eyes, so it’s nice to be able to look at you and see something entirely different.

The fact that you love horror films is great, because I cansee him as someone who will bingewatch the Halloween movies – prequels, remakes,and even the weirder ones – whilst commenting on how convoluted some of the timelinesare. His favourite movie is probably Bram Stoker’s Dracula, but it’s more of aninside joke that the Volturi share; Aro watched the movie once - was appalled byhow the vampire race was being portrayed, and has since had a grudge against all moviesin general. He has a certain flair for the dramatic.

 Harry Potter

I ship you with Fred Weasley!

Height difference? Check! Fred is a natural tease, so expecta lot of short jokes – and he most likely uses your head as an armrest. He’ll alsosometimes just pick you up, slinging you over his shoulder or carrying youaround, remarking at how little you are. He is, to put it mildly, an arse.

The fact that you have a good sense of humour is essentialif you want to be around Fred, in general. He and his brother have literallybuilt a shop which is essentially founded on pulling pranks, so if you’re a stick-in-the-mudit isn’t for you.

He’s definitely the type of guy who’ll randomly poke you ortry to make you jump when you’re watching a horror movie. Even though he knowsyou’re not afraid, he can’t help but try – he’s a little shit. In fact, he’smore likely to get scared of whatever you’re watching than you are; of coursehe won’t tell you this, but given by the fact that he’s trying to burrow intoyour side and flinches when the monster or villain jumps out onscreen, it’spretty obvious.

Fred isn’t put off by your clinginess, he loves it. He’lljust sit down or lay there, a big goofy smile on his face as you shower himwith affection. He’ll reciprocate your sweet words with ones of his own,because he is a hopeless romantic hidden within the shell of a jokester.

 Suicide Squad

I ship you with Digger Harkness!

As evidenced by his interest in Kitana, he likes someone witha bit of spice to them – in other words, someone who has a certain somethingthat makes them stand out.

Your sense of humour is what initially piqued his interest.He likes someone who he can laugh and joke with; with the squad, he doesn’treally feel like there is anyone there that he can have fun with besides Deadshot.Harley could and most likely would hit him over the head with her bat if hesaid the wrong thing; Chato doesn’t have the best opinion of him; Slipknotcurrently has no head, and Killer Croc is…well, Killer Croc. So, you’reessentially a breath of fresh air to the man.

When it comes to horror movies, he wishes that he could actlike the big, macho man who’s there to protect you from the scary monstersonscreen. But, he’s not. Instead, he’s almost pissing himself at the jump-scares,squeezing the life out of a pillow. It’s hilarious to say the least. 

[ofallingstar]

First lines from the books I read in 2018

Hawksmoor by Peter Ackroyd: Thus is 1711, the ninth year of the reign of Queen Anne, an Act of Parliament was passed to erect seven new Parish Churches in the Cities of London and Westminster, which commission was delivered to Her Majesty’s Office of Works in Scotland Yard.

Métamorphose en bord de ciel by Mathias Malzieu: Les oiseaux, ça s'enterre en plein ciel.

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen: The family of Dashwood had been long settled in Sussex.

Le plus petit baiser jamais recensé by Mathias Malzieu: Le plus petit baiser jamais recensé.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll: Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice, “without pictures or conversations?”

Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll: One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it -it was the black kitten’s fault entirely.

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson: Ba-room, ba-room, ba-room, baripity, baripity, baripity, baripity-Good.

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin: Dear James: I had begun this letter five times and torn it up five times.

The Secret in Their Eyes by Eduardo Sacheri: Benjamín Miguel Chaparro stops short and decides he’s not going.

At the Mountains of Madness by H. P. Lovecraft: I am forced into speech because men of science have refused to follow my advice without knowing why.

The Minds of Billy Milligan by Daniel Keyes: This books is the factual account of the life, up to now, of William Stanley Milligan, the first person in U.S. history to be found not guilty of major crimes, by reason of unsanity, because he possessed multiple personalities.

The Bad Beginning by Lemony Snicket: If you are interested in stories in happy endings, you would be better off reading some other book.

Puckoon by Spike Milligan: Several and a half metric miles North East of Sligo, split by a cascading stream, her body on earth, her feet in water, dwells the microcephalic community of Puckoon.

Piercing by Ryu Murakami: A small living creature asleep in its crib.

The Reptile Room by Lemony Snicket: The stretch of the road that leads out of this city, past Hazy Harbor and into the town of Tedia, is perhaps the most unpleasant in the world.

And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini: So, then.

The Shape of Water by Guillermo Del Toro and Daniel Kraus: Richard Strickland reads the brief from General Hoyt.

Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell: He’d stopped trying to bring her back.

Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell: The Rue du Coq d’Or, Paris, seven in the morning.

We Were Liars by E. Lockhart: Welcome to the beautiful Sinclair family.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusack: First the colors. Then the humans. That’s usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try.

The Wide Window by Lemony Snicket: If you didn’t know much about the Baudelaire orphans, and you saw them sitting on their suitcases at Damocles Dock, you might think they were bound for an exciting adventure.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson: No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.

Battles in the Desert by José Emilio Pacheco: I remember, I don’t remember.

The Miserable Mill by Lemony Snicket: Sometime during your lifetime -in fact, very soon- you may find yourself reading a book, and you may notice that a book’s first sentence can often tell you what sort of story your book contains.

The Age of American Unreason by Susan Jacoby: The word is everywhere, a plague spread by the President of the United States, television anchors, radio talk show hosts, preachers in megachurches, self-help gurus, and anyone else attempting to demostrate his or her identification with ordinary, presumably wholesome American values.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare: Theseus, duke of Athens, is planning the festivities for his upcoming wedding to the newly captured Amazon, Hippolyta.

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert: We were in study hall when the headmaster walked in, followed by a new boy not wearing a school uniform, and by a janitor carrying a large desk.

The Austere Academy by Lemony Snicket: If you were going to give a gold medal to the last delightful person on Earth, you would have to give that medal to a person named Carmelita Spats, and if you didn’t give it to her, Carmelita Spats was the sort of person who would snatch it from your hands anyway.

Lord of the Flies by William Golding: The boy with fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way toward the lagoon.

The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare: Christopher Sly, a drunken beggar, is driven out of an alehouse by its hostess.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee: When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro: My name is Katy H.

Hear the Wind Sing by Haruki Murakami: “There’s no such thing as a perfect piece of writing.”

The Ersatz Elevator by Lemony Snicket: The book you are holding in your two hands right now -assuming that you are, in fact, holding this book, and that you have only two hands- is one of two books in the world that will show you the difference between the words “nervous” and the word “anxious.”

Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare: Two households, both alike in dignity, (In fair Verona, where we lay our scene), From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

Adventure Time: The Enchiridion & Marcy’s Super Secret Scrapbook!!!: My Devoted Evil Daighter, Marceline, I admit we’ve had a somewhat volatile father-daughter relantionship ever since the regrettable Fry Incident.

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin: Ser Waymar Royce glanced at the sky with desinterest.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.

Pinball, 1973 by Haruki Murakami: I used to love listening to stories about faraway places.

The Vile Village by Lemony Snicket: No matter who you are, no matter where you live, and no matter how many people are chasing you, what you don’t read is often as important as what you do read.

Dracula by Bram Stoker: 3 May. Bistritz. –Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:43, but train was an hour late.

The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare: I know this hartred mocks all Christian virtue, but They I loathe: their very sight  abhors me.

On the Road by Jack Kerouac: I first met Dean not long after my wife and I split up.

A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami: It was a short one-paragraph item in the morning edition.

The Hostile Hospital by Lemony Snicket: There are two reasons why a writer would end a sentence with the word “stop” written in entirely in capital letters STOP.

The Most Beautiful: My Life with Prince by Mayte Garcia: The chain-link fence around Praisley Park is woven with purple ribbons and roses, love notes, tributes, and prayers for peace.

Hamlet by William Shakespeare: Who’s there?

A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin: The comet’s tail spread across the dawn, a red slash that bled above the crags of Dragonstone like a wound in the pink and purple sky.

Out of Africa by Isak Dinensen: I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of Ngong Hills.

Carrie by Stephen King: News item from the Westover (Me.) weekly enterprise, August 19, 1966: RAIN OF STONES REPORTED.

The Carnivorous Carnival by Lemony Snicket: When my workday is over, and I have closed my notebook, hidden my pen and sawed holes in my rented canoe so it cannot be found, I often like to spend the evening in conversation with my few surviving friends.

Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock by Matthew Quick: The P-38 WWII Nazi handgun looks comical lying on the breakfast table next to a boal of outmeal.

The Turn of the Screw by Henry James: The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the obvious remark that it was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve on an old house, a strange tale should essentially be, I remember no comment uttered till somebody happened to say that it was the only tale he had met in which such a visitation had fallen on a child.

Carmilla by Sheridan J. Le Fanu: Upon a paper attached to the Narrative which follows, Doctor Hesselius has written a rather elaborated note, which he accompanies with a reference to his Essay on the strange subject which the MS. illuminates.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson: No one has ever suffered as I have.

The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka: One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski: I still get nightmares.

Othello by William Shakespeare: In the streets of Venice, Iago tells Roderigo of his hatred for Othello, who has given Cassio the lieutenancy that Iago wanted and has made Iago a mere ensign.

Dance, Dance, Dance by Haruki Murakami: I often dream about the Dolphin Hotel.

The Slippery Slope by Lemony Snicket: A man of my acquaintance once wrote a poem called “The Road Less Traveled,” describing a journey he took through the woods along a path most travelers never used.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou: “What you looking at me for? I didn’t come to stay…”

A Most Haunted House by G. L. Davies: The house first came to my attention a few  years ago.

Ghost Sex, The Violation by G. L. Davies: I met with Lisa at her home in Pembroke Dock.

Any Man by Amber Tamblyn: Am I in a body?

A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay: “This must be so difficult for you, Meredith.”

A Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin: The day was grey and bitter cold, and the dogs would not take the scent.

Macbeth by William Shakespeare: When shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain?

You by Caroline Kepnes: You walk into the bookstore and you keep your hand on the door to make sure it doesn’t slam.

The Grim Grotto by Lemony Snicket: After a great deal of examining oceans, investigating rainstorms and staring very hard at several drinking fountains, the scientists of the worlds developed a theory regarding how water is distributed around our planet, which they have named “the water cycle.”

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys: They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did.

Mansfield Park by Jane Austen: About thirthy years ago, Miss Maria Ward, of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the luck to captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park, in the country of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet’s lady, with all the comforts and consequences of a handsome house and a large income.

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë: My name is Gilbert Markham, and my story begings in October 1827, when I was twenty-four years old.

The Tempest by William Shakespeare: Boatswain!

Lucky by Alice Sebold: In the tunnel where I was raped, a tunnel that was once an underground entry to an amphitheather, a place where actors burst forth from underneath the seats of a crowd, a girl had been murdered and dismembered.

The Penultimate Peril by Lemony Snicket: Certain people had said that the world is like a calm pond, and that anytime a person does even the smallest thing, it is as if a stone has dropped into the pond, spreading circles of ripples further and further out, until the entire world has been changed by one tiny action.

#books #books 2018 #long post #like... really really long

[ciceroprofacto]

24, and anyone you want really

24-“You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

“Classes are cancelled, Hamilton!” a pale blue scarf suddenly wrapped around Alexander’s mouth and turned his face to a wide grin and warm eyes. “Yet I come home and find your nose in book again.”

The quill in Alex’s fingers dropped, probably smearing his ink. He didn’t care. Nicholas pulled the scarf so it brushed against his throat, soft fabric too much like a careless caress, and he was leaning close, hip cocked against their desk, face close and flushed. Alex thought of a dozen witticisms about his nose…

He had been drinking rum while reading. Perhaps he should stop.

“The boys are out at Stoker’s tonight,” Nicholas said. “Where I heard the most fascinating news,” his grin slanted to one side, sloppy and saccharine. He reached up one hand to poke Alexander on the cheek, delicate. “You put in for the match manager position…”

The boys…the Corsicans. A row at the tavern that Alexander had not been invited to- because Lieutenant Jay had him in consideration, an officer-to-be. He supposed he should be glad to have been separated from their antics, that the masks were working and his peers considered him too responsible for the Fighting Cocks… too gentlemanly.

Right now- he was drunk. He caught the scent of whiskey on Nick’s breath and took comfort in the idea that his friend was also listless. It certainly explained the pretty flush on Nick’s cheeks. Alexander would never admit it, but he’d been unable to shake the nervousness he felt in his presence. He attempted it by lying to himself, by pretending, but it hadn’t abated.

But, what he was saying- the position Alex had put in for and the strangely pleased expression he was wearing for what should be a scummy job. None of it made sense, “Why were you asking about me there?”

Nicholas turned, waving a dismissive hand and leaning over the desk, planting one hand by Alex’s book. It brought his chest to eye-level. “Later, later. I’m only saying I was there- to explain why I’m so…” he gestured towards himself, a twirl of his hand.

“Drunk?”

Nicholas grinned like Alex had apprehended something secret. “What’re you reading?” he then slid down to kneel by Alex’s chair, one arm stretched over the tabletop.

Right…his reading. Nicholas had a tendency to careen into a room and throw Alex’s focus to the winds. Tall and broad, a sharp nose and clever brown eyes. It was only friendliness, and it was hardly his fault that Alex let himself succumb. He likely wasn’t even aware of his effect- he probably wouldn’t have agreed to sharing an apartment if he was.

Was this the part of himself Alexander couldn’t deny- the part that Mulligan had warned him about?

Alex reached for the rum he’d left on the desk and swallowed twice.

“Latin or Greek?” Nicholas said, then swayed forward so his cheek rested against Alex’s thigh. “I speak both y’know.”

Alex drank again for good measure. “It’s Plato.”

A hum in response. 

“The ring of Gyges.”

Nicholas sat up then, “The ‘completely Just’ man,” he said as if to demonstrate his understanding- though he should know, Alex hardly understood anything he was reading. Greek had never been his forte and Nicholas helped him through most of his assignments. “We discussed this in my philosophy class,” Nicholas said, “Though our conversation was distracted as we tried to define what the just and unjust man should look like. How can such a man even exist?”

“One who is completely unjust?”

“Right- we all had different definitions of what it must mean to be unjust- some said he was a thief, others a tyrant, but…how can any design be true?”

Alex was hardly through translating, much less interpreting the lessons of Plato’s dialogue, so he could only give a shrug. “I don’t believe that’s the point of it,” he said. “There can’t be a correct answer- but the definitions aside, he’s talking about how an unjust man would act- no matter how you define it.”

“But that is the point of Plato,” Nicholas insisted. “To discuss- it doesn’t matter if we talk about the subject he intended, here, come-” he pushed up from the floor and grabbed Alex’s hand, urged him across the room, nearly stumbling over their wool rug, a modest furnishing for their modest apartment. He dropped onto their mattress with a thump, disturbing the messy blankets and pulling them aside to make room. “You need a proper definition of justness to understand the story.”

“Plato spent his life writing dialogues trying to define that very subject…” Alex protested, following his friend- he could hardly help it. It was just a story- one of many in a book of Plato’s works that Mulligan had brought to him while he’d been packing his bags. “If he could never come to a definitive answer, I think we should conclude that the answer is relative. Every man is entitled to his own opinion of what’s right…” and, Alexander knew from experience, he’d only risk himself to contend.

But, Nicholas was pouting, pulling up his legs to sit, facing his friend. He pulled Alex’s hand into his lap, gripping it fiercely. “If you allow justness to remain relative, how can society ever progress? Just saying ‘that’s your opinion’ and moving on, there’s nothing actionable in that! There must be some general consensus of what it means to be just- to be right. Take murder- pretty much anywhere you go, people agree it’s wrong to murder someone, so if you say moral correctness is a matter of opinion, you discount universal truth- you claim that such a thing doesn’t exist!”

Alex had no response to this and so glanced away from his friend and back to the book on his desk. He could think of several scenarios in which he would excuse murder, though he knew his friend was discounting the proper examples like war and self-defense. Still. Nicholas was wise beyond his years. Even younger than Alexander- who always thought himself wise, Nicholas was confident of his beliefs- unlike Alexander…whose mind always felt like a muddle. A muddle of philosophy, a muddle of causes, a muddle of desires… of lusts… If Nicholas knew that Alex wanted to kiss him- to rub his face into the crook of his neck, hold him close and move against him- “But, then how can we say our truth is better than anyone else’s? To claim that a universal truth exists, you’d have to be able to say no one would disagree with you. That’s not possible. Someone will always disagree- a different culture, different upbringing.”

“So then it’s a qualified universal truth,” Nicholas said, pulling on Alex’s hand so that he sat heavily on the bed beside him. “Qualified to say that all respectable men agree, and so anyone who disagrees is no longer respectable. With matters such as murder and cannibalism, I think all civilization agrees, so we should have no problem expressing disgust against the rest. I mean, any civilized man would be revolted with blood on his hands- much less eating flesh.”

He said this, but in the same breath, grabbed Alex’s leg and tugged so that Alex slid across the mattress and half into his lap, wrapping his arms affectionately around his shoulders. Alex wanted to bite at his throat where he was tucking his face. He was too drunk, disgusted with himself.

“Even beyond the obvious, I think we should know in our hearts what it means to do right,” Nicholas said. “We’re at war now, Alex…we’re to be leaders in that, right?” He tilted his head against Alex’s, his hair scratching against his forehead softly, “I imagine the unjust man might be unjust because he simply lacks a definition of what it means to be just- he believes such a definition doesn’t exist and so he’s decided not to make one. If we’re to be leaders, we’re wearing the Ring of Gyges. Our men don’t see us as we are- right or wrong. They see us as a leader…and if we have no definition of justness- how can we do right by them?”

Nicholas was too drunk to make any sense, but Alex had to consider his friend’s philosophies. The necessity of a moral code- of causes. Stevens, Knox, Mulligan- they were all sure that he was meant for something better, and all the while, he wilted under their patronage. He wasn’t a follower- was never the sort of man who could believe in a thing simply because he was told, but still… he should believe in something. He shouldn’t be so goddamn empty.

“I’m glad you put in for match manager at Stoker’s place,” Nicholas said, drawing back far enough to let their foreheads rest together, in a haze. He smiled confidentially, as if he had Alex completely- and he did. “Mulligan told me he has a double-agent there and I wouldn’t trust anyone else to trail him.”

Alex pulled back, confused. “What?”

Nicholas grinned. He had visited Mulligan’s shop enough times for Alexander to know his involvement with the Sons of Liberty- for him to know that Nicholas was interested in the rebel cause wholeheartedly- for Nicholas to know that Alex could make a highly-effective spy if he needed to, invisible as if he didn’t exist.

“I would trust no one else,” Nicholas said, and before Alex could protest the assumption that he would take the job, Nicholas leaned forward, letting their lips brush, soft and wet- then warm, kissing with a short passion. Alex pushed back helplessly, wanting to grab him and join their whole bodies- hardly given time to realize what had happened before it was over. Nicholas pulled away, eyes half-lidded and coy, his expression contradicting his motions as he hugged Alex like a brother, “I’m so glad Mulligan picked you…”

Alex was sure he should correct his friend, tell him that Hercules had no influence on his application at the Fighting Cocks Tavern- that he had no interest in trailing a double-agent, even for the rebel cause…

But, Nicholas was nuzzling against his neck affectionately, whispering soft praises to his talent as an agent, for his work with Mulligan, as he had been shiftless and driven by the benefit of pretending causes and looking a hero for the underbelly of New York- a rebel who never believed in anything.

Nicholas believed. That was clearer than ever.

Perhaps he spoke Greek, but this flirtation was tactical- a recruitment to one of Mulligan’s assignments. Even if the kiss was heartfelt, it stung like poison, but the message was clear. If Alex had learned any Greek from his friend’s tutoring- "Nikolaos,“ he breathed in return. A synthetical origin from the characterization o laos tis nikis…the people of victory…

Nicholas believed in this cause- that it would see victory.

Alex wouldn’t kiss him again.

#I'm super drunk n will edit this later #answered #ficlet #SOA #Nicholas Fish

[centerofstupidity]

Dracula the Undead: Author’s Note Part 1 Snark

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Interested in reading the previous Dracula the Undead chapter snarks? They can be found here.

Summary: An aperitif of the clusterfuckery that is to come. This is a long-winded and self-congratulating author's note.

Both writers claim that their novel stays true to Bram Stoker's vision even though it contradicts and re-writes the original story.

In case anyone wants to read the original author's note in order to form their own conclusions, you can read it here.  

~ Dacre's Story ~

Since I am a Stoker, it is not surprising that I have had a lifelong interest in the work of my ancestor.

At the risk of sounding like a complete ass...

This "interest" is financially motivated. 

Bram’s youngest brother, George, believed to be the sibling with whom he had the closest relationship, was my great-grandfather, so I am Bram’s great-grandnephew.

"Which means that I am related to Bram Stoker and can write an 'official' sequel to Dracula. And that will make me a shit-load of money."

In college, I wrote a paper on my great granduncle,

I'm getting the impression that is statement is supposed to make Dacre Stoker sound unique...

Even though there are plenty of other college students who have written an essay about Bram Stoker or Dracula for an assignment.

For instance, yours truly did a PowerPoint presentation on Bram Stoker and Mary Shelley for a class in college. 

examining what may have motivated him to write Dracula.

Again, this isn't groundbreaking stuff. 

Many people have published articles or books discussing Dracula. 

Scholars like Professor Elizabeth Miller have dedicated their lives to studying it. 

My research opened my eyes to how, from my family’s perspective, the history of the book Dracula, is pretty tragic.

"And before I give everyone a history lesson, I'm telling you all this so I can justify butchering my ancestor's work."

Bram Stoker died without ever seeing Dracula become popular. The sales of the novel were so limited at the time of his death that his widow, Florence, thought she would never benefit financially from Bram’s “wasted” seven years of research and writing. With Bram’s other fiction and nonfiction books out of print, Florence was convinced she would live out her days on a tight budget.

Actually, that isn't true. 

According to scholar John Edgar Browning, the majority of critics gave positive reviews. 

His findings were published on February 1st, 2012. 

It is important to note Dracula: The Undead was published in 2009.

But in an interview in 2013, Dacre Stoker said this: There is this statement that used to kind of drive me crazy—‘Dracula was met with mixed reviews when Bram was alive’. 

He then briefly discusses Browning’s research.

Which means that Stoker knew about Browning’s findings...

But he ignored it and printed misinformation. 

Dacre adds that it was only "ten years after Bram’s death" when Dracula became popular.

Posthumously, Bram started to receive recognition as the progenitor of the modern vampire/horror novel.

Not to diminish Dracula and its impact on popular culture...

But it is not the first influential vampire novel. 

Varney the Vampire is. 

Dacre Stoker goes on to talk about Florence Stoker (Bram Stoker's wife) and her legal dispute with the creators of Nosferatu.

He also states that Dracula became public domain in the U.S.A since 1899 because Bram didn't complete a requirement so Florence Stoker had to live off the U.K. royalties.

With the U.S. copyright lost, Hollywood, corporate America, and anyone else was free to do whatever they wanted to Bram’s story and characters.

This is the part where the reader is supposed to boo and hiss at Hollywood...

And then give Holt and Stoker a standing ovation for writing Dracula the Undead. 

Dacre Stoker talks about how his family wasn't asked for approval of "any of the hundreds of incarnations of Dracula over the next century."

My father’s generation had a negative feeling for all things Hollywood and Dracula.

Which is understandable given what happened. 

But after reading the author's note...

The history of Dracula is being used in order to deflect any criticism.

And to justify bastardizing Dracula under the pretense of honoring Bram's original vision and righting a past wrong. 

—except, of course, for Bram’s original novel.

So we have two options:

They knowingly endorsed a novel that defamed Bram and mocked the original novel. 

Or they loved Dracula and would be appalled that Bram was dragged through the mud and the original lore was ridiculed. 

According to Ian Holt in an interview in 2010, he says that “Bram’s bitter demeanor was even worse in real life than we depicted in the novel.”

And in the same interview, Holt passively aggressively says: “Do your research. The fact that the chapters with Bram were written almost completely by Dacre in consultation with his family means nothing to them.” 

So yeah...

I’m leaning towards option number one. 

I didn’t write about these issues in my college paper, but they were always on my mind.

Dacre Stoker admitted that he didn't read Dracula until he went to college.

Stoker says it was "a shame" that his family was unable to "control the legacy of my great-granduncle" and  "lay claim to the character of Dracula."

It was many years after college that I met an interesting character, Ian Holt.

Stoker doesn't realize that calling someone "an interesting character" can be a veiled insult.

Ian is a screenwriter who has been obsessed with all things Dracula since childhood.

A lot of people love all things Dracula.

Doesn't mean that they are a talented writer.

Ian, being a true idealist, had a plan that inspired me to not accept the frustrating history of Dracula.

"He was my knight in shining armor!"

He wanted to change history.

History reveals that change isn't always positive. 

Sometimes it is negative. 

Ian’s plan was simple: to reestablish creative control over Bram’s novel and characters by writing a sequel that bore the Stoker name.

To my surprise, none in my family had ever considered this.

Translation: "Why haven't any of my family members tried writing a novel? It's the obvious solution to the problem." 

And it didn't occur to Stoker none of his family members had any interest in being a writer. 

It really pisses me off when people act like writing any kind of fiction is easy or that anyone can be a writer. 

While any literate person can write, not everyone can be a writer. 

It requires talent and passion along with the desire to learn about the craft and improve your writing skills.  

Intrigued, I decided to join Ian on a roller-coaster ride as coauthor.

And for readers, it is a nightmarish ride where clusterfuckery gallops and a literary classic is violently raped.

In writing Dracula the Un-Dead, I felt a strong sense of duty and familial responsibility.

"It isn't because I wanted to piss all over my relative's legacy and make a shit load of money."

I hoped to work with Ian to represent Bram’s vision for the character of Dracula.

Bram's vision should be called Sir Not Appearing in This Novel.

We aimed to resurrect Bram’s original themes and characters, just as Bram conceived them more than a century ago.

The Dracula characters appear in name only.

They are cast in an unfavorable light. 

As for the themes?

They are discarded. 

So many books and films had strayed from Bram’s vision—

It is extremely rare for adaptations to stick extremely close to the original story. 

Usually, adaptations take artistic license with the source material. 

And just because an adaptation or a retelling differs from the original story, doesn't mean that it will automatically suck. 

For instance, I like films, mangas, and video games that are inspired by/loosely based on Dracula. 

and thus our intent was to give both Bram and Dracula back their dignity in some small way.

Dracula is depicted as a misunderstood man with fangs who is every woman's erotic dream. 

And readers are supposed to despise Bram. 

I think Bram would be proud that a family member has taken this initiative, and finally done justice to the legacy he created.

Bram would be livid that his work was bastardized and that his descendant depicted him as a desperate and a talentless hack.

~ Ian’s Story ~

I am not ashamed to say it, I LOVE horror films.

Ah, all-caps.

How I loathe thee.

A lot of people like horror and it is a popular genre. 

So that doesn't make you unique.

And horror movies are no longer considered depraved or scandalous.

Holt mentions that his favorite horror movie as a kid was Dracula (1931).

When I was ten years old, my mother bought me a record for Halloween with Christopher Lee narrating the story of Dracula by Bram Stoker. Reading that record sleeve changed my life, for it was then I learned that Transylvania was an actual place and that Dracula was a historical figure.

Where do I begin? 

If you are LISTENING to an audiobook, you are not READING IT.

Ian was "inspired" by the audiobook that he decided to read Dracula.

I was surprised at how different the novel was from the films—and I had seen every Dracula film ever made.

"Who knew that Count Dracula swings both ways? Or that Mina is an assertive and intelligent woman and not a stupid Dracula fangirl?"

The novel was more intelligent, astute, and dark.

While this literary abomination is a cash-grab filled with gratuitous gore and sex.

The novel had more intricate and exciting characters than I could have ever imagined.

While Dracula the Undead has depraved lesbian vampires and a whiny prat along with a handsome and misunderstood vampire who only wants tru luv.

I felt cheated by Hollywood. I vowed revenge!

I get it, Holt and Stoker. 

I'm supposed to hate Hollywood but adore your literary travesty. 

Fifteen years later, my opportunity came.

And Dracula fans wished that it never arrived.

Flipping channels one night, I came upon a program on the making of Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

I'm getting the sneaking suspicion that this story will result in name dropping. And Holt insisting that he is a scholar.

On the program, Coppola held up the 1972 book In Search of Dracula written by Fulbright Scholars Professor Raymond McNally and Professor Radu Florescu (Prince Dracula’s actual descendant).

Vlad the Impaler is also known as Vlad III, Vlad Dracul or Vlad Dracula. 

Sometimes he is referred to as Vlad III of Wallachia or Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia. 

But I have never heard of any scholar referring to Vlad III as "Prince Dracula."

A quick Google search reveals only this book and a YA novel called Hunting Prince Dracula. 

Every time I see Vlad III being mentioned as "Prince Dracula", I can't keep a straight face. 

Because it reminds me of Beni Gabor calling Imhotep his "prince." 

Coppola had used the professors’ research of the historical Prince Dracula’s life as inspiration for the opening sequence of his film.

And he discarded the rest of it in order to make Dracula a guy who is looking for his one tru luv.

Before taking a breath I was on a plane to Boston College to meet the professors. After showing them some notes on the screenplay I planned to write based on their book,

"I smelled an opportunity to make some money!"

the professors sold me the rights for one dollar

"They were impressed my awesomeness!"

The friendship I forged with McNally and Florescu has borne fruit in many ways. I soon began traveling with the professors giving lectures on the impact of Bram Stoker’s novel on our culture.

According to Dracula the Undead on the official Penguin Publishing House website, Ian is being described as:

There is a BIG difference between being a fan, a historian, and a documentarian. 

A quick Google search reveals that Ian Holt has not published anything in an academic journal.

However, one of the first things that pop up in an internet search is this. 

This garnered me an invitation to speak at The First World Dracula Congress in Bucharest, Romania, in 1995—a gathering of Dracula/horror scholars from around the world.

I don't doubt that Holt went to The First World Dracula Congress.

But I don't think he was a speaker.

Elizabeth Miller wrote a report about the gathering. 

And Ian Holt isn't mentioned among the speakers. 

Holt went sightseeing in Romania and how he made "the dream I had as a ten-year-old come true."

Thanks to the friends I made at the First World Dracula Congress, I was asked to join the Transylvanian Society of Dracula—a scholarly organization dedicated to the study of all things Dracula.

We get it, Ian Holt. 

You want us to think that you are a scholar because you are friends with scholars and historians. 

But I don't think a scholar would be constantly name-dropping.

Through friends in the society I met Professor Elizabeth Miller, the world’s foremost authority on all things vampire, Dracula, and Bram.

"And I'll use my scholar friends as a shield to deal with criticism."

Professor Miller asked me to speak at the Dracula convention in Los Angeles in 1997, where we celebrated the 100th anniversary of the release of Bram’s novel.

According to a report on the 1997 Dracula convention in Los Angeles, Holt isn't mentioned as being one of the speakers.

Holt says during the convention he came up with an idea to write a sequel to Dracula. He admits that a Dracula sequel isn't a new idea.

But a Dracula sequel was never written with "input from a member of the Stoker family."

Holt goes on to say that "securing that input became my goal" and contacted the Stoker family patriarch.

Still scarred by the Nosferatu copyright affair and years of being ignored and abused by Hollywood, the members of this generation of the Stoker family wanted nothing to do with me.

I could be wrong...

But I'm getting a strong feeling that Holt was miffed that some members of the Stokers didn't want to touch him with a ten-foot pole. 

Especially since Holt said the Stoker family at "long last" supported the idea for an official sequel.

But I wouldn’t give up.

Holt says how he "kept building up my film-writing résumé and Dracula connections." He eventually meets Dacre Stoker.

I pitched him my sequel idea, which at the time I had been planning as a screenplay. Dacre was enthusiastic and suggested that the proper way to proceed was with a book first.

If it is a novel, then it will be proper lit-ra-choor.

Because a movie wouldn't be "deep" or "elevated". 

Both Dacre and Ian agreed to a writing partnership.

And Dacre contacted his family members and presented them with the sequel proposal.

Once it was understood that this would be a labor of love,

"We gleefully shit all over the original lore and insist that it was all a lie."

our intentions honorable, and that our plan was to restore to the world Bram’s original vision and characters,

If that was the case, then:

The original lore of Dracula wouldn't be repeatedly violated.

The Crew of Light wouldn't be depicted in an unflattering light.

And Bram Stoker wouldn't be vilified. 

the Stokers offered support, at long last.

Translation: They finally appreciated my genius!

Dracula the Un-Dead is the culmination of my lifelong dream and years of hard work.

"And why is the Devil laughing and doing a victory dance?"

It is my gift to every horror nut out there.

If by "gift", you mean a literary turd, then I agree with you.

My greatest wish is we have created a book that is close to Bram’s original gothic vision

"Close to Bram's original gothic vision"? 

Hell no! 

It contradicts the original story and reads like a shitty Coppola's Dracula fanfic. 

—while modernizing it at the same time.

By stealing a twist from The Empire Strikes Back and copying a scene from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Believe me, I realize how lucky I am.

And readers will regard this novel as a plague upon mankind.

I have been truly blessed that in some small way, my name will be linked with

a mean-spirited and shitty novel.

that of my hero, Bram Stoker—

I'm not convinced that Dacre or Ian regard Bram as their hero.

Here is an excerpt from the novel:

"If there were to be any truth to Stoker's novel it would have to be where no sunlight could ever reach."

Translation: you can stick it where the sun don't shine.

the man who invented modern horror.

I'll say it again...

Stoker wasn't the only one who invented modern horror.

Some of the other writers were Edgar Allen Poe, Ann Radcliffe, Sheridan Le Fanu, Algernon Blackwood, and H.P. Lovecraft.

#rm renfield #r.m. renfield #quincey p. morris #quincey p morris #abraham van helsing #jack seward #mina murry #mina harker #lucy westenra #Wilhelmina harker #count dracula #dracula #jonathan harker #chapter snark #bad fiction #snark #dracula the undead #dacre stoker #ian holt #arthur holmwood #elizabeth bathory #vlad the impaler #bram stoker #anti dracula the undead

[geekofmanyforms]

New Beginning:Chapter Nineteen

A/N: I know it's been a while since I have updated and I'm sorry about that. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Please let me know what you think. That way I know there is still interest in this story. This chapter has been edited by my Beta Casey.

Jeremy's pencil scratched its way across the paper as he sketched yet another picture of a Bram Stoker-Esque vampire. I laid my cheek on the palm of my hand, my elbow sitting on the dining room table as I watched him. Inwardly I sighed, knowing it wouldn't be long before he started piecing together the missing memories that Damon had ripped from him. This was something I still found myself hating my own sister for from time to time, so I had no doubt Jeremy would feel the same for a while.

A small creak from the floor above caused both Jeremy and me to raise our heads, narrowing our eyes at the ceiling briefly in disgust and annoyance. We were both avidly avoiding the upstairs where Elena and Stefan were doing God only knows what.

Truthfully, I was grateful he was here, especially after he had shown me his little box of treasures — one which held vervain jewelry. Stefan had allowed me to pick out a green and black beaded rope bracelet for Jeremy. It would keep him safe from every mind control obsessed vampire that seemed to run rampant in this town. Still, I didn't like the idea that my sister could be getting her freak on only a floor above us.

My head jerked towards the door when a loud knock interrupted my thoughts. I laid my head down on my arms in silent protest. The door was just too far away, and I really wasn't in the mood to interact with the outside world. Jeremy laughed at my display of laziness and stood from his seat.

"I'll get it, Ellie,"

I stuck a thumb in the air and heard his feet move across the floor as he left the dining room. The front door opened, and the low deep voice of a man told Jeremy the total for the pizza. I ignored them and stood, heading into the kitchen to grab the plates. I could hear Jeremy yelling for Elena and shook my head with a smile. Everything felt so normal for once. When I came back, Elena was bounding down the stairs, her ponytail swaying as she all but hopped towards the door, money in hand. Jeremy brought the pizza to the table, and I helped him fill the plates, my mind a million miles away. I turned my head towards Elena and smiled when she came into the room with Stefan in tow.

They both had the most obvious expressions of satisfaction on their faces. I bit my lip, trying to keep to the laughter from my voice as I spoke.

"Ready to eat? I'm sure you both have worked up an appetite by now," I asked smoothly.

Jeremy, who had been taking a drink, coughed loudly liquid running down his chin as he tried to breathe. Stefan raised a brow as Elena sputtered indignantly, a patchy pink blush starting at her hairline and working its way towards her neck. I smirked at them both, watching Elena's face darken by the second. I pounded Jeremy on the back and caught my sister's eye.

"Remember, Lena. If you're too embarrassed to talk about it, then maybe you're too young to be doing it," I said firmly, in my best motherly voice with a smirk on my face. I reached beside me and handed Elena two plates with a smile. "We'll talk later. Maybe then you can tell me all about Stefan's sexual prowess," I whispered with a dramatic wink.

As I had expected, Elena gasped and shook her head at Stefan. As if he would ever believe I would want to know anything about their 'extracurricular' activities.

I giggled, and Stefan rolled his eyes at me. "Stop torturing your siblings, El."

I sat down with my pizza and watched Elena shoot Stefan loving and thankful glances for the rest of the night.

The next day sped by quickly despite my mind still being a complete mess. The news that Elena and I were adopted had really done a number on her. Along with having to deal with my own jumble of emotions, I had Elena's to deal with as well. It wasn't that I was all that surprised by it. I mean obviously, she is related to the Petrovas, not the Gilberts. It was the fact that I honestly hadn't the foggiest idea who our parents could be. I wasn't used to not knowing things. This whole ordeal was new to me. Usually, I lived, and then I died. Simple as that. But not in this life. In this life, I had a doppelganger sister who was in love with my vampire Ex's brother, and now come to find out we were both adopted. I was at a complete loss. Honestly, not knowing something for a change was really rattling me. What good was being a Reincarnate Original witch if I was as clueless as the rest of them? I despised the feeling.

When Elena and Bonnie had mentioned going to the Grill, I was actually all for the idea, the noise and mundanity of it would help me stay out of my head. I had been nothing but quiet and contemplative all day, and I could tell it was starting to bother Elena. That was until Elena decided to tell Bonnie the whole sordid tale. Now I was being forced to listen to Bonnie express her surprise and sympathy.

"I can't believe you guys are adopted. I never saw that coming."

Elena nodded, taking my hand. "And it gets weirder. We looked at our birth certificate. It lists Miranda and Grayson Gilbert as our birth parents. None of it makes any sense."

Bonnie placed her hand on Elena's, her eyes soft. "Which is why you should ask Jenna," she said.

Elena leaned back in her seat and groaned in annoyance. Bonnie noticing her hesitance leaned in for the kill before Elena could shoot her down. "First of all, the Elena I know would always want the truth, good or bad," Bonnie said.

I looked over at Elena and watched her visibly cave. Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed, all of the air leaving her body as if she were a rapidly deflating balloon.

"And second of all?" she asked, defeatedly.

Bonnie leaned forward, her eyes scanning our surroundings. "You just found out your boyfriend's a vampire, so unless your birth parents are aliens…how bad could it be?"

Elena and I shared a laugh, some of the stress we had been carrying finally melting away. Bonnie leaned away, a triumphant smile on her face. Elena shook her head and shared a glance with Bonnie before bumping shoulders with me.

"Hey, I need to go to the store. My outfit for the dance is severely lacking accessories," Elena said, "Since I know you have a closet full of junk, I decided to force Bonnie along instead."

I placed my hand on my heart and fell against my seat with a massive gasp. "So, is Mistress saying Ellie is a free elf?" I dramatically choked out.

Elena shook her head while Bonnie covered her flushing, embarrassed face with her hands. "You are such a nerd. Yes! You are free. Go!" Elena laughed.

I quickly stood, clutching my bag as if it were an article of hard-won clothing. "Ellie is free!" I gasped loudly with a smile.

Bonnie sunk down in the booth as I jaunted merrily towards the door smirking at my twin. I waved with a wink before I slipped outside. I smiled brightly, having enjoyed the small embarrassing display that I knew had helped distract my sister, even for a moment. I took a deep breath, glancing at the beautiful blue sky above me. It was a perfect day. I cocked my head to the side for a moment and decided I would enjoy it today. No drama, just fun. After all, tonight was the 50s dance. It might actually be nice to enjoy it with my friends for once.

Pulling out my phone, I sent a quick text to Caroline before hopping into my car. It wouldn't hurt to check on Damon before I tried to have any fun. I knew that if anyone could ruin a drama-free day, it would be Damon Salvatore. I might as well head off his plans before they ever had the chance to come my way.

I didn't bother knocking, knowing they would be alerted of my arrival as soon as my tires had hit their driveway. I bounded into the front room and frowned when I didn't find anyone. Usually, at least one of them was there to greet guests. I raised my hand and cast a quick detection spell, finding Damon in the library. With a raised brow, I fixed two tumblers of Bourbon and headed that way. As I rounded the corner, I could hear the heavy thumps of something repeatedly hitting the floor. I slowly glanced around the corner and found Damon standing in front of one of the large wooden bookshelves. I stepped up beside the couch that sat a few feet away and watched him for a moment. He was looking through each book intently, obviously searching for one in particular. The sleeves of his black dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, his raven hair messy as if he had run his fingers through it repeatedly in agitation. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he was unaware of my presence only a few feet away from him. However, I did know better, so I just stood still and waited, giving him the time he needed to collect himself.

I could tell he was angry and losing his patience. His long pale fingers ran across the titles of a few books before he pulled them from the shelf, looking through their pages quickly. He then tossed them to the floor, where they joined the rest in the pile that surrounded his feet. My inner bookworm winced at the many haphazardly strewn books now scattered across the floor. It made me angry to see books treated so disrespectfully. Still, something told me now was not the time to pull out my inner librarian. His searching slowed, and his rigid posture started to slump as he turned on his heel towards me.

I raised one of the crystal tumblers of Bourbon and smiled. "Take a break. The books will still be there for you to abuse later," I teased lightly.

His blue eyes warmed briefly before they once again hardened as he locked down his emotions. Stepping down the stairs, he headed in my direction, taking the proffered alcohol and downing it in one swift motion before leaning against the bookshelf behind him.

"Are you looking for a lead on Em's Grimoire?" I asked.

He nodded his head in an affirmative, and I walked up beside him, downing my own drink; the harsh burn more than welcome.

"I'm looking for my father's journal. I know he had something to do with what happened to you and Emily. If anyone knew what happened to her Grimoire, it'd be him."

I ran my tongue across my teeth and shook my head. I had no clue where Giuseppe would have hidden Emily's Grimoire, but Damon was right, I'm sure he had something to do with our burning. He had taken it as a personal slight against him and his family when he had found out about me. He not only helped murder me but from what I heard, he had destroyed my family as well.

"I completely agree. If anyone can help us find it, it'll be him." I said.

Damon turned around and headed back up the steps towards the bookshelf he had been rifling through. He reached up and pulled another book from the shelf. He let the cover fall open — flipping through the pages, before tossing it to his feet and grabbing another. I tried to keep my features from contorting in annoyance, but as soon as the book landed with a small thumb, the spine cracking open — pages fluttering. I knew it was to no avail. I quickly stomped up the steps and snapped my fingers, watching the books on the floor gently fly through the air and land in neat piles beside the shelf.

"You could at least show the books the respect they deserve. Don't take out your annoyance on them, Salvatore," I snipped.

I pulled off my jacket and sent it and my bag flying over to the couch, kissing my drama-free day goodbye. There was no way I could leave these books alone with the disrespectful vampire. Damon smirked, his blue eyes crinkling.

Very slowly, he deliberately pulled a book from the shelf with both hands, as gently as possible. "So, I take it you're staying to help then?" he asked.

I growled at him and started on my own section, taking a book and examining it before catching his eye as I bent down slowly, gently placing it on the stack near my feet. Damon snickered at me but followed my lead. We worked in silent comradery for another hour before we heard someone walking into the room. Stefan casually stepped up the stairs, his hands in his jean pockets — the perfect picture of ease. He glanced down at the ever-growing stack of books at our feet with a raised brow and cocky smile.

I took a step away from the shelf and crossed my arms. "Can we help you, Stef?" I asked with a polite smile.

Stefan approached me with ease, and I narrowed my eyes. He was going to push his luck again. I could feel it. Why did he always insist on pushing Damon? Yes, most of the time, his brother deserved it after everything he had done, but really it only made things worse.

"Just wondering what you're both looking for?" Stefan looked over my shoulder at Damon, who had stopped his search, his back still turned away from his brother. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be at school, Ellie?"

Damon turned towards us and stepped beside me, placing his hand on my shoulder. "She is welcome to stay as long as she wants, Stef," he said, enunciating Stefan's nickname with narrowed eyes.

Stefan's eyes fell on Damon's hand on my shoulder and then to all the books on the floor, his eyes hard. "Damon, she has more important things to do than be here, helping with whatever this is," he said, waving his hand around at all our hard work.

I growled menacingly at Stefan and took a step towards him. "Stefan Salvatore! You and I both know I can learn nothing knew at that ridiculous excuse for a High School that I haven't already learned in the hundred I have attended before it. So don't you dare treat me like some helpless teenage girl. I am over a thousand years old! If I choose to spend my time here with your brother, then that is what I will be doing. You will do well to remember who you're speaking to!"

My voice wavered between a high pitched screech and deadly calm. Stefan's eyes were wide and almost fearful as I took a few deep breaths.

One.

Two.

Three.

I stepped away from him and took another book from the shelf, effectively ignoring them both.

"I'm sorry, Elandra. You are right. I just don't like you being involved with all this," he said calmly.

I scoffed lightly, and Damon raised his brow beside me, but I kept my eyes on the books in front of me. "Stefan, my twin sister is the Petrova doppelganger. I am a Reincarnate. I'm pretty sure my life is already dangerous and insane as it is. So what is adding a bit more craziness gonna do?"

Stefan chuckled and looked at Damon with his brow raised. "What are you guys looking for Damon?" he asked again.

Damon leaned next to me, and I continued looking through the books. I had no intention of getting involved in their sibling drama. I had enough of my own. Besides, theirs tended to end with stakes shoved in painful places, and I don't heal as quickly as they do.

"Not your concern," Damon said.

Stefan leaned towards him, his arms crossed. "No, but putting Elena and Elandra in harm's way, that is my concern," Stefan said, his voice hard as steel.

I was shocked to hear my name added on to his little display of Alpha male possessive behavior. I turned around quickly when Damon growled, pushing past me to attack his brother.

"Elandra is not your concern, brother!" Damon growled.

I stood in front of Damon, my hands on his chest as Stefan came up behind me. What was he playing at?

"Don't act like you care, Damon. You're just using her. You're bitter because one of us gets to be with the person that we love, and poor Katherine is just out of reach. Unless there's another way for you to get into that tomb. Is that what Bree told you? Is that what you have El here helping you with? If so, then that's pretty sad, Damon. That you would force her to help you get back the woman you chose over her," Stefan weakly said.

Damon took a few steps back, his breathing ragged. For a moment, I wasn't sure what to do. Stefan had taken things too far, and he knew it. His eyes were clouded with regret, but I could tell he was fishing and hoping that one of us would reveal something to him. Damon was in no mood to fight with Stefan right now, so it was up to me to handle him. I turned slowly and tossed my hair over my shoulder. My lip curled with distaste, and I narrowed my eyes hatefully at Stefan.

"You're pathetic when you're fishing, Stefan. Damon hasn't forced me to do a single thing. I have and always will choose him because I want to. Now go. I think you're missing school, and we all know how dreadfully important these human experiences are to you," I sneered.

Stefan's face fell and I could, once again, see the regret, especially after the moment we had so recently had. He had pushed me, and we both knew it was too late to take back what he had said. He had used my past with Damon against us both, and that's not something I will so easily forgive or forget. He moved towards me, but I raised my hand, motioning for him to just leave it. Thankfully, he didn't push me and slowly backed away, leaving Damon and me alone. I turned around and wrapped my arms around Damon as soon as I knew Stefan had left the house. I ran my fingers through his hair, hoping that I could give him some comfort.

"Don't listen to him, Day. You're not forcing me to be here. Don't forget we have already left the past in the past, where it belongs. All is forgiven," I whispered.

I could feel Damon's warm breath on my shoulder and tried to control my heartbeat. All I needed was to make a fool of myself. Before things could get too awkward, Damon pulled away. I looked into his crystal blue eyes and smiled, running my fingers across his jawline.

"Let's find this stupid journal. Before Saint Stefan gets home from school," I said. Damon smirked the worry that had been etched across his beautiful features smoothing into his usual flawless cocky demeanor. "This is why you're my favorite, Elandra."

I spent the rest of the day searching the Library with Damon to no avail. The journal was nowhere to be found. Before Stefan got home, I decided it would be best if I wasn't still sequestered at the Boarding house. I didn't feel like going home yet and knew if I did, I would most likely be hounded by Elena, so instead, I decided to just get dinner at The Grill. As per the norm, it was reasonably busy. I was more than a little annoyed to find my plan of avoiding Elena had flown right out the window when I noticed her and Bonnie at a table in the corner. I quickly slid past them and headed towards the bar, hoping to sneak some take out and then pull a daring escape. I found Matt sitting at the bar and slid beside him while I waited patiently for attention from the bartender.

"Hey, Ellie. What are you doing here?" Matt asked.

I smiled brightly and leaned against him. "I am going to attempt to get some food and pull a runner without my less beautiful twin noticing my existence," I whispered conspiratorially.

Matt leaned back and looked behind us, glancing around until he caught sight of Elena. Leaning forward again, he raised a hand until the bartender, Ben, caught sight of us. Ben slid up to the bar and leaned forward, tossing his dingy off white rag over his shoulder with a smirk.

"What do you need, Matt?" he asked, eyeing me up and down.

Matt shot him a glare before he pointed his thumb at me. "Think you can help out, my friend?"

When Ben smugly smiled, leaning down onto the bar to get closer to me, Matt quickly put his arm around my waist, clearing his throat roughly.

"With the menu and taking her order," he quickly clarified, eyes narrowed.

I grinned, loving Matt's brotherly protective side. I knew he definitely needed to have someone to protect since losing Vicki, and if that was me, then I had no issue with it. Matt had always had a bit of the white knight syndrome, and maybe if he felt like he had someone to call family again, he would feel less alone in the world. I had always loved Matt, anyways.

Ben stood back and shrugged, not a care in the world, as he handed over a menu. "Fine, don't get your panties in a bunch," he sighed.

I quickly looked over the menu and ordered something for both me and Matt, much to his dismay.

"You didn't have to do that, Ellie," he said, not meeting my eyes. "I have some money." he finished.

I bumped his shoulder with my own. "I know. I just wanted to repay you for your chivalry, Mr. Donovan," I said, placing my hand on my heart and batting my eyes excessively.

Matt laughed, rolling his eyes in amusement. "Well, thanks."

Ben brought Matt a plate of food and handed me a to-go container with a cheerful wink. "Thanks," I said as he walked away.

Matt glared at his back, and I shook my head with a smile. "I-I just want you to know that I don't need help, Ellie."

He looked down at the job application he had been filling out since before I had arrived. I hadn't wanted to draw too much attention to it. I knew Matt wasn't the most financially stable, and he was really touchy about the subject of money.

"I know that. I would never treat you like a charity case. You're just Matt to me," I said, stealing one of his fries. "One of my dearest friends."

With that said, Matt took a deep breath, and I could see a lot of the stress he had been holding in finally let up a bit.

"So you're gonna be working here then," I said, easing him into the subject.

Matt took a drink of his soda and nodded. "Yeah, busboy," he grimaced.

I spun around on my stool and leaned against the bar, facing the rest of the restaurant. "So? It sounds like a good job for me. Easy way to make some cash. Plus, you'll still be able to see your friends since we all basically live here," I chuckled.

I leaned in and gave Matt a kiss on the cheek, grabbing my take-out box.

"You'll do great," I whispered.

His blue eyes shined as he smiled at me. "Thanks, Ellie Bean," he said.

I scrunched up my nose and pushed his head down roughly with a grumble. I hated that nickname, and he knew it. I could hear his laugh as I headed stealthily towards the exit. All the while trying to keep Elena firmly in the corner of my eye. I hoped she and Bonnie would remain focused on their own conversation.

I felt almost as if luck was on my side when I heard my sister's chipper and surprised voice.

"Elara?"

I stopped in my tracks and let my head and shoulders fall as I turned to meet her gaze.

"Hey, Elena. I didn't know you were here," I said, my voice dripping with false surprise.

Elena's doe eyes squinted in disbelief as they raked over my body, stopping at the foam box in my hands. As soon as she saw it, her lips thinned, and she huffed in annoyance.

"Elara Marie Gilbert, you little liar. You were trying to escape like some prison inmate," she whispered, screeching as she did so.

I swear my sister could make herself sound like a banshee even when she was whispering. It was a great skill.

I winced and slowly opened the box. Showing her the bacon cheeseburger and fries inside.

"Wanna fry?" I asked, trying to appease her as if she was some Greek Goddess.

Elena reached out and picked up the bun from my burger, lifting it and setting it aside before removing the top piece of bacon. She replaced the bread and closed the lid. Narrowing her eyes at me, she ate the bacon. I scoffed loudly in disbelief.

"I said a fry, Elena!"

Elena sidestepped me and headed outside, still nibbling on my stolen bacon. I spun on my toes and followed her.

"I did not say that I would apologize, Elena. I did not kill someone. I just tried to avoid you. That's a minimum of two fries kinda punishment. NOT a slice of bacon. The punishment should fit the crime, Lena," I said.

Elena wiped her hands on her jeans and shook her head. "I picked the punishment, and I wanted Bacon. So deal with it,"

I was about to harass her again when her cell rang, interrupting our sibling squabble. She answered it quickly, holding it to her ear as we walked toward her car.

"Hello," she said.

I made it to my car, which was nearer than Elena's, and placed my food in the passenger seat. I watched Elena for a second, and my stomach plummeted as she froze in fear. I forgot everything and rushed towards her. She stood in the middle of the parking lot, her mouth gaping open as she looked frantically around her.

Her eyes found me, and she dropped her hand from her ear, clutching her phone tightly.

"Ellie, it's the vampire I hit with my car!" she frantically said.

I looked in front of us and saw a man in a hoodie walking towards Elena. Without thinking, I pushed her towards her car and shoved her inside.

"Go to the Boarding House, Elena,"

Elena stared at me, her brown eyes wide with fear. "No! What about you?" she yelled.

I growled in anger and looked up at the man that was still approaching us at regular human speed. Obviously, he was just playing games. I looked around, making sure no one could see what I was about to do and let my hand filled with a blue ball of electric light. I flung the ball of magic at the vampire and watched as it threw him back a few feet. Elena gasped in shock, and I slammed her car door shut before I ran to my own. Once I was safely inside, I honked my horn, alerting Elena that I was ok. She ignited her engine and started out of the lot. Once I saw her leave, I quickly threw my car into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot after her, speeding down the road towards Damon and Stefan.

I was pacing back and forth in front of Elena and Stefan, where they sat on the couch in the Boarding House Library. I couldn't believe I was back here after already spending my entire day scouring through every book in this room. I was pulling on my fingers nervously as Elena explained everything to Stefan, who was as always, the pillar of support everyone needed.

"Why me? What does he want with me? A-And if he's trying to kill me, then why call first?" Elena asked.

Stefan stood and walked around the couch so that he could face her. "That's because we're predators, Elena. We hunt, We stalk; It's often as exciting as the kill," he said, sitting on the table behind him and handing her the vampire compass. "I want you to take this,"

Elena lifted it from his hands and sent me a weary look. "This is Jeremy's pocket watch. How did you get it?" she asked, ever the dutiful sister.

"I found it after Logan Fell died and gave it to Damon," I said.

Elena raised a brow but thankfully didn't ask me any questions. She opened the lid and observed the inside in confusion.

"What happened to it?" she asked.

"Well, it's not just a watch. It's a...it's sort of a compass, but it points to vampires," Stefan stuttered out his explanation.

I sat next to him and looked at my confused sister. "I used it to help Damon find Logan Fell after he turned. It pointed me right towards him. You'll be able to know exactly who is a vampire by using this," I said, touching the cold metal of the golden compass.

Stefan gently took Elena's hand in his own, showing her how the compass worked. The needle began to whirl around in a circle before it finally clicked into place, pointing directly in Stefan's direction. Elena looked up at him in shock and then met my eyes.

"Why did dad have this?" she asked.

I turned my head towards Stefan and let out an audible sigh. "The Gilberts were one of the founding families, and back in 1864, they were among those who sought to eradicate the vampires. The compass was used to find us," Stefan said with a wince.

Elena looked at me in fear. "If we were hunters, then that means we hunted more then just vampires. Did we...did we hurt you?" she whispered.

I closed my eyes and looked away from her. "Elena, it doesn't matter. That was a very long time ago," I said.

Elena took my hand and squeezed it tightly. "It matters to me," she said, voice tight.

I could feel Stefan's eyes on me, and I avoided him altogether. I had never told anyone who all had been there the night Emily and I had burned.

"The Gilberts were a part of mine and Emily's burning," I finally said.

Elena's eyes filled with tears, and I took her face in my hands. "Elena, it's ok. That was so very long ago, and I wasn't a Gilbert then. I was a Miller,"

I took Elena in my arms and allowed her to cry for a part of me that she would never know or fully understand. "How can you love us after what our family did to you?" she sniffled.

I pulled away from her and shook my head. "Because their sins will never be your own. Just as I do not blame Stefan or Damon for what their father did that night," I said.

Elena's eyes widened, and she looked at her boyfriend in shock. "Your father was there?" she asked.

Stefan looked away from us and nodded slowly. "He was the one who started it all," he said hatefully.

I looked down at the compass and pressed it closed. Stefan looked at Elena again, he reached up and caressed her cheek. "I want you to keep this. That way you'll know if you're ever in danger," he said.

Elena smiled at him, and I could tell they needed a moment. I stood quietly and stepped out of the Library. Memories of the past following close behind me.

Somehow I had been roped into helping Jenna clean the living room before the dance. "Ya know just cause we are dressed like we are from the 50s doesn't mean we have to act like it," I pouted as I adjusted my 50s style yellow polka dot dress.

Aunt Jenna, who was dressed up in her own 50s gear, rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, please, you'll live, Cinderella," she smirked.

I raised my hand across my forehead, careful not to hit my hair, which had been a terrible hassle, and gasped. "Oh, stepmother, please release from this prison of manual labor!" I said dramatically.

Aunt Jenna laughed and helped me fix the yellow ribbon that was holding my hair up and keeping the two tight curls atop my head in place. I had forgotten how much I had hated 50s hairstyles. "You are sure the red of my hair doesn't clash too much with this yellow dress?" I asked her, feeling a bit self-conscious.

Jenna smacked my arm and sighed. "You look amazing."

Before I could respond, Elena bounded down the stairs in a cute yet simple outfit. She had on a blue shirt that she had paired with a red belt that wrapped around her middle, capris, and white snickers. Her hair was teased so that it looked fuller on the top, and she wore a blue headband. She looked adorable.

"You look great, Lena," I said.

Elena spun around with a giggle and eyed me up and down. "So do you." She walked closer to me and leaned next to my ear. "Not fair that you have all that previous experience, though. That is so cheating!" she said.

I pulled away with a laugh, and Jenna shot us a questioning glance but chose to ignore our odd behavior as she turned towards Elena and heaved out a massive sigh. "I spoke to the insurance company, Cars totaled. You'll have to share with Elara or use mine for now," Jenna said.

Elena and I both nodded. "So, you're coming to the dance?" Elena said, looking at Jenna's clothing choice.

Jenna smiled a bit smugly, and I crossed my arms and tapping my foot. "Alaric asked me to help chaperone," she said.

I clapped my hands and let out a little whoop. "Yes, Jenna! Get it!" I said.

Elena glared at me, but I had my eyes on Jenna, who had crossed the living room and was now leaning against the couch, acting as casual as she could. Elena grabbed an apple from the bowl on the dining room table and took a bite.

I could feel the atmosphere in the room change, and Elena finally let the question she had been dying to ask out. "Why didn't you tell us, Jenna?"

Jenna, who had been taken back by the sudden change of topic, looked a bit startled. I felt bad for her. It hasn't really been her decision to make, and then she had lost her family. Who would want to drop that bombshell on someone after they had lost their parents?

"Your mom was gonna do it eventually. I never thought I'd have to," she said, looking at us both with grief plain on her face.

Elena looked down at the apple she had been eating as if it held the answers to the universe. "If our mom was here right now and I asked, she'd tell us the truth," Elena said.

Jenna stepped forward and held her hands close to her chest. She took a deep breath and started from the beginning; the day Elena and I had been born, the day our mother had handed us over to Miranda and Grayson. I listened carefully, although it really didn't matter to me why she had done it or how. She would never be my mother. I had one already, and she had been a lovely woman.

"What else do you know about her? The girl?" Elena asked after Jenna had finished her tale.

Jenna looked at us and sighed. "Just her name. Isobel," she said.

Jenna left after our talk, and I anxiously sat with Elena, deciding I didn't feel like arriving at the dance alone. I really don't care if I was third-wheeling, and neither did Elena, not after what we just found out. This whole day was supposed to be stress-free. So much for that. Elena patted down her pants and sighed.

"I forgot my phone upstairs. I'll be right back,"

I watched her go and felt a strange sense of foreboding in the air. Something was coming. I stood quickly and listened to Elena on the stairs.

"Where is he?" she said, speaking to someone on her cell. She stopped in front of me, and I could tell she was listening to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

She held the compass in her hand, and I could see the dial spinning rapidly. Something was definitely wrong.

"Oh, thank God. This compass was spinning. Stefan must be here," she said.

I looked at the compass and started to panic. I looked around quickly, my eyes rapidly scanning our surroundings. Elena still hadn't noticed my reaction yet. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck lift as if someone was watching us, and my head involuntarily started to rise. Above us, I saw the vampire from the road braced on the ceiling. His eyes red with hunger, fangs bared and ready for the hunt, black veins growing under his eyes. I gasped in shock and my hands rose, sending a wave of magic at Elena on instinct. She dropped her phone with a scream and fell to the floor. Her body flew across the room and away from the hungry vampire. He growled menacingly at my interference and fell from the ceiling, landing behind me. I spun around, just as he went for my neck. I sent another wave of magic at him, and he fell to the floor.

Before he could get up, Stefan came bolting inside from the kitchen. "Elena!" he yelled.

The vampire looked between Stefan and me, and with a hiss, vamp sped out of the house. Stefan looked at me in shock, but I raised my hand and pointed towards a seriously freaked out Elena. As he helped her to her feet, I swayed on the balls of my feet. The shock and sudden use of powerful magic, making me feel weak. Before I could sit down and rest, I was assaulted by a doe-eyed doppelganger.

"Oh my God, Elara! You saved me." she cried into my chest.

I ran my fingers through her hair and whispered nonsensical words to calm her. "It's ok. We are ok," I said.

Elena looked up, and I wiped the tears from her face. "You are seriously strong. You have to teach Bonnie how to do that!" she said excitedly.

I ran my hands down my face and shook my head. "Lena, normal witches can't channel their magic the way I can. They can't just shoot it out of them like that," I said, trying to explain it in the simplest of ways.

Elena pouted for a moment and then placed a hand on her hip. "Well, I'm sure there is plenty of other stuff you could teach her. She would really benefit from someone as powerful as you mentoring her,"

I clasped my fists tightly and tried to reign in my temper. Now was not the time for this. Ever the peacekeeper, Stefan stepped forward and held up his hands.

"Let's table this discussion," he said. "for now."

Elena grumbled but conceded. Thank the Gods. A rustling could be heard at the front door, and Elena immediately jumped behind Stefan. I glanced at him quickly, my hand raised, but he shook his head with a natural expression.

Damon bolted inside at vamp speed and engulfed me in his embrace. I tried to breathe but was being crushed by his enthusiasm.

I reached up and ran my hands through his hair. "I'm ok, Damon," I reassured him.

He pulled away quickly, finally realizing we were not alone in the room. He turned towards Stefan, his face hard.

"How the hell did he get in?"

Damon stepped away from me as he started to pace in front of the couch.

I brushed my dress off and watched him as he tried to reign in his temper. His face was hard and almost empty, but his eyes were crackling with emotion, a storm ready to break at any moment.

"Damon," I said.

He stopped his frantic pacing almost immediately and turned towards me. I raised both my hands in the air and took a deliberate deep breath, raising my hands up as I inhaled and down as I exhaled. "Breathe," I said with a smile.

He rolled his eyes and took in a deep and annoyed breath of air, then gestured with a smirk, as if to ask if I was pleased with the way he had taken in oxygen.

I giggled and raised my eyes to the heavens in exasperation. "He posed as the pizza guy last night, Day," I explained, catching his eye before looking at Stefan, who laid his head in his hands.

Damon chuckled darkly. "Well, he gets points for that. Did he say what he wanted?" he asked.

Elena raised her head and glared at Damon, her hand on the back of her neck. "No. He was too busy trying to kill Elara and me," she said.

I raised my hand in the air, twirling my index finger. "Actually, he didn't show me all that much interest. I don't think he wanted me. Elena seemed to be his primary target. I was just in the way,"

Damon raised his brow and glanced at Elena in annoyance. "Well then, maybe you should stay home tonight, El. You've used up too much juice as it is," he said, eyes scanning me.

I felt my mouth drop open and my hands folded into fists. "Hell no, Damon. There's no way I'm staying here. I will be going, and that's final. I will be there to protect my sister. She is too important in more ways than you know,"

I could see Elena's eyes cloud with tears, and I sat down beside her, taking her hand in my own. She may have thought it was purely out of sisterly devotion that I wanted to protect her, but that wasn't the only reason. She had a purpose, and I would be damned if she got herself killed or turned into a vampire before she could live up to it. Because if she did, then Jeremy and everyone we love would go down with her.

No, I would figure out a way to save her and help Niklaus. This time everyone would get what they wanted. From the corner of my eye, I could see a ghostly grey figure come down the stairs and take a seat, a cocky smirk on her face as she twirled her blonde hair around her finger.

"Oh, you've become awfully protective of your sister, Elandra?" Rebekah cackled in glee.

I tried to keep my face straight and ignore the specter of my best friend. It had been a while since I had seen her.

"Do we have any idea who he was?" I asked the brothers, trying to stay on topic and keep my mind away from the Original.

"No," Damon said.

Stefan glared up at him, an unconvinced look on his face.

Damon scoffed in annoyance, tossing a hand in the air. "Don't look at me like that. I told you we had company," he spat

Rebekah stepped down the stairs and beside Damon, placing a hand near his shoulder. "He looks like he is telling the truth, El. You know I have a knack for being able to tell when someone is truthful. Comes from years of Nik's utter bullshit," she said with a smile.

I coughed through a laugh, the boys looked at me with narrowed eyes. Elena patted me on the back and glanced at Damon in fear. "You think there is more than one?" she asked.

Damon looked at me, eyes soft and full of warning. "We don't know," he said, blue eyes never leaving my green as he sat on the arm of the couch next to me.

Stefan took Elena's hand and leaned over, looking at his brother. "Damon, he was invited in," he said, voice hard.

Damon nodded in understanding as Elena looked between them, not yet grasping their meaning. I patted her hand and glanced at Rebekah.

"You'll have to make sure they kill him, Elandra. Then make sure your family stops inviting people inside. It could become a problem," Rebekah said.

I let out a sigh and nodded. Rebekah was right, things would only get more dangerous, and I didn't want to have to worry about random vampires popping in on me at all hours of the day and night.

"Then we go get him tonight," Damon said.

He looked down at me with a half-smile. "Since you're so determined to go, are you sure you're up for it?" he asked.

I bit my bottom lip and stood, placing my hands on my hips. "Are you, Mr. Salvatore, because I was born ready," I said with a playful sneer.

Damon scoffed, lifting himself from the couch. "I'm always ready," he said, widening his eyes with a smirk.

Rebekah gagged from the corner of the room, and I ran my eyes over her form with a grin. "God, he is so annoying. What did you ever see in him?" she asked, glaring at Damon's oblivious form.

As soon as Elena drew the attention of the brothers, I stepped closer to the corner of the room that held the invisible specter of Rebekah Mikaelson. I crossed my arms, keeping my eyes trained on my sister, who was taking in the plan for the night, her brown eyes wide as Damon filled her in on what she would need to do to draw out her vampiric stalker.

I casually lifted my hand and cast a silencing spell, as to not be overheard by the sensitive ears around us and leaned against the wall behind me.

"Where have you been, Beks?" I asked, my voice betraying the worry I have felt in her absence.

Rebekah's grey face turned towards me, the prominent veins covering her beautiful features puckering as she smiled brightly at me. I hid my wince with a smile and watched Stefan comfort a terrified Elena as Damon rolled his eyes, turning around to catch my eye before sticking his finger in his mouth and gagging dramatically. I laughed but stopped as soon as Stefan scrunched his eyes up at me. He gestured toward a saddened Elena. To mollify him, I sighed and stuck out a shaming finger towards Damon, rolling my eyes. When he laughed loudly, I grinned and sent Stefan a shrug.

Rebekah shook her head next to me, and I grumbled at the way the two brothers interacted. Sometimes I felt like they would never be the way they used to be. It was sad the way they had allowed Katherine to destroy their relationship.

"I was with Elijah," Rebekah finally said. I casually turned my head in her direction, her blue eyes were bright against her grey skin. "He plans on killing Niklaus. We cannot allow him to betray Nik like that. It will damage their relationship beyond repair,"

I gasped, the air leaving my lungs in one swift burst. I felt like she had punched me in the stomach. "What? Why would he do that? He of all people knows of Nik's paranoia. He would be heartbroken if 'Lijah betrayed him in such a way," I said, my voice broken.

Rebekah nodded slowly, and I swallowed the betrayal I felt at Elijah's actions. I would let her explain before I passed judgment on my brother.

"Nik told him that he buried all of us at sea. Elijah thinks he has lost us all, Elandra," she said.

I wanted to scream in anger at Niklaus. I felt my magic swirl through me, as I fought with my emotions. My skin glowed brightly with power, and I forced the surge down, biting my tongue until I could taste the coppery tang of my own blood. I felt the static of my magic flitter across my fingertips as my nails bit into the palms of my hands. I took in a few deep breaths so that I wouldn't reveal my outburst to the brothers and Elena. They were all still only a few feet away from me, in an in-depth discussion about our latest vamp attack. I shook my head and rubbed my forehead roughly. I just couldn't understand why Niklaus would do something so cruel to the one person who had always been there for him. Elijah had even been the one who had helped after he had murdered me when he had thought I was some sort of Doppelganger. He had saved him from himself more times than even I cared to know.

I casually turned my head towards Rebekah, my back straight, face firm. "I will take care of this, Rebekah. When he gets here, I will make sure he knows the truth. I won't let him do anything that gets him daggered...or worse," I said.

Rebekah's shoulders slumped in relief, her grey face falling forward as she sighed. "Thank you, El. I honestly don't know what my brothers and I would ever do without you,"

Rebekah's hand came to hover beside my left cheek. I smiled weakly, my memory conjuring up all of the many points in time where the Mikaelsons had proven how very easily they had moved on without me.

Her blue eyes crinkled in annoyance, her lips pursing.

"Don't do that to yourself!" she snapped, slipping in front of me. "We never forgot about you, Elandra Rioult!"

The corner of my eyes stung as tears threatened to escape, my chest tightening in protest as I fought down a broken sob. I leaned forward and stepped away from the troublesome specter. I knew that if I stayed near her any longer, the dam I had so painstakingly built up over the centuries would break. All the emotions I had hidden away would pour out of me, and I couldn't have that. Now was not the time to reevaluate how I felt about the Original family. I ignored her pained protest and stepped closer to Elena.

"So, are we ready to go?" I asked.

Maybe taking out the vampire who had it out for my sister was exactly what I needed.

Elena and I entered the dance each on the arm of a Salvatore, which of course, caused quite the little uproar. Several of our fellow students had gasped dramatically as if we had arrived naked and draped across them. I rolled my eyes, laughing at how stupid they all looked. I stepped past the students, all dressed in their best 50s getups. "This Magic Moment" was echoing through the gym as I took Damon's hand and swayed my way across the dance floor towards Caroline and Bonnie, who danced together near the refreshment table. I smiled brightly at them and pulled Damon into a dance.

"Hey, ladies. We have a mini issue. So I want you both to stay inside and away from Lena until I find you, ok?" I told them, leaning closer as Damon spun me.

The girls looked at me oddly, fear on their faces. "What's going on, El?" Bonnie asked.

I shook my head in exasperation and caught Damon's gaze. He rolled his eyes and spun me into Caroline's arms as he took Bonnie.

I giggled madly but took Caroline in my arms and spun her around with a flourish. "Listen, witchy poo. We had a little surprise visitor earlier. He is here trying to get his paws on Elena. Stefan and I need to deal with this because he has been invited into the Gilberts. Got it?" Bonnie frowned, her mind obviously whirring with the new information.

I stopped dancing with Caroline and stepped closer to Bonnie. "I want you and Caroline to keep an eye on Jeremy for me and stay here. Please. We have this handled. But I need someone I can trust to protect everyone else, Bon," I said, searching her eyes for understanding.

I knew she was powerful enough to protect my brother and Caroline. She just needed to believe it. Finally, it clicked with her, and her green eyes hardened with emotion. She nodded her head sharply and took Caroline's hand, walking towards Jeremy, who was standing by the far corner of the room, next to Alaric. I sighed and leaned against Damon, but tilted my head as I noticed the sharp look Alaric was shooting at my raven-haired ex. What the hell was that about? His dagger filled glares stopped as soon as Jenna joined his side, and I decided to file it away for later perusal.

"Dance with me?" Damon asked.

I glanced up at him and smiled. "Hell yeah! Show me some moves from Grease! I regret not being able to see what you were like in the 50s," I giggled.

Damon rolled his eyes, pulling me further onto the floor, and spinning me into his chest. "I am not showing you any moves from Grease. I left the 50s in the 50s," he said.

I stuck out my bottom lip and tried my best puppy dog eyes. "Come on. I had very boring parents in that time. I never got to go out dancing and having fun. I was very much a Sandy without the sexy transformation at the end," I sighed.

Damon's eyebrow raised, and he smiled. "So you wore poodle skirts and dated athletes?" he asked with a smirk.

I laughed lightly, laying my head on his chest. "No, I never even got to date that go around. I pretty much studied until I died. It was all very boring," I said.

Damon lifted my chin until I met his eyes. "Damn, Ellie. How many times have you died a virgin?" he asked in shock.

I pulled away from him, chuckling madly. "Damon! Only you would ask someone that." I slapped his chest and started looking around for Elena and Stefan.

After finding them dancing with bright smiles on both their faces, I took Damon's hand and started pulling him towards the punch table. "And the answer is...too many times," I sighed regretfully, glancing back at him with a grin.

He laughed, shaking his head. He let my hand go and took two plastic cups, filling them both with fruit punch. I scrunched up my nose in distaste but took the drink with a simple nod of thanks. "Well, what about this time El? Do you need a little assistance?" he asked cockily.

I sputtered coughing lightly, the sticky punch running down my chin. I picked up a napkin from the table and wiped it away quickly, ignoring Damon's laughter. I raised a brow and narrowed my eyes. "Nah, not this time. Tyler Lockwood took care of that ages ago. Did a pretty good job of it as well," I smirked.

Damon growled lowly, crushing his empty plastic cup in his hand with a glare, blue eyes flashing in anger.

I bit my bottom lip, my eyes never leaving his. Our little stare down was interrupted as Alaric stepped up next to Damon.

"Hey, Elara. Are you having a good time?" he warily asked, obviously catching on to the tense atmosphere.

I kept my eyes trained on Damon, who was still fighting against his anger, pale pink cup crushed in his hand. "Yeah, Alaric. I'm having a blast. Just reminiscing here with Damon," I moved my eyes away from Damon. I smiled at the History teacher I knew was hiding...something. "I was just about to remind him that the past is better left in the past. As he should already be aware. Don't you agree, Mr. Saltzman?" I said, watching his reaction with interest.

His shoulders tensed, all emotion that had been previously bubbling in his eyes was shuttered immediately. He shut everything down, quickly becoming an empty shell of the man we were all coming to know, and I now knew it had something to do with Damon Salvatore. Great, just great. I internally sighed, rubbing my teeth together in irritation.

"Yes, I agree. The past should stay in the past," he said, his voice robotic.

I rolled my eyes and took Damon's arm in my own.

"You know, I don't recognize you. How'd you get roped into chaperoning?" Alaric asked, reaching out his hand towards Damon with a fake smile on his face. "Alaric Saltzman. I'm the new History teacher," he said, taking Damon's hand and shaking it.

Damon's eyes narrowed as he took in the History teacher that had taken over for the man he had murdered. "Ah, the, uh, cursed faculty position," he taunted.

I leaned my head on his arm and sighed. "If anyone cursed the position, it was you, Day," I grumbled, knowing he'd hear me.

"So I've been told," Alaric said, watching my interaction with Damon closely.

I could tell he was ill at ease with the way I was standing so close to him. It was so undeniable that Alaric knew exactly what Damon was, I could see it in the worry that lit up his eyes. It was more than just the fact that Damon was older. It was sweet that he was worried about me. I knew he was a good man, but I needed to know more, especially if he was interested in my Aunt Jenna.

"Damon Salvatore," Damon introduced himself, brushing my hair from my shoulder, his eyes firmly on Alaric's.

Alaric looked towards Stefan and Elena and lifted his thumb in their direction. "Salvatore, as in, uh, Stefan?" he asked.

Damon looked at his brother before looking back at the man in front of him in ever-growing interest and irritation. "He's my little brother. I'm his legal guardian, hence the chaperoning," he answered.

Alaric nodded, then once again looked down at me, watching Damon as he wrapped a strand of my hair around his finger. "I hear he's very bright, not that I've had the chance to see for myself," he said.

Damon easily maneuvered around the new aspect of the conversation, brushing my hair down my back and standing straighter as he answered. "Well, his attendance records a little spotty. Family drama," he said.

I coughed out a small laugh, running my tongue across my bottom lip as Damon handed me another glass of punch. Alaric frowned down at me, probably guessing I knew more than he had thought. Maybe he feared I was compelled? I drank my punch swaying to the new change of music. Damon smiled at me, shaking his head.

"No, parents?" Alaric asked.

My face fell, and I stopped dancing, my own anger starting to mount at his intrusive behavior.

"No, Ric, their parents are gone," I said through clenched teeth.

I sat down my cup on the table and took Damon's hand, giving it a squeeze.

"I'm going to go dance with Stefan and Elena. Find me when this little Spanish Inquisition is over," I whispered.

I spun on my heel and glared at Alaric as I swayed towards Stefan and Elena. I smiled when I saw Stefan spinning my sister around in the middle of the floor. Coming up behind him, I took Elena's wrist and pulled her away, yanking her against me. Elena yelped in surprise, and I laughed brightly at her. Stefan stood behind me, and I danced backward until I was against him.

"Dance with us, Stef! Come on. I never got to do anything like this with you or Damon as Elandra. Make it up to me," I pouted.

Elena tugged on a piece of my hair, and I gasped. "Damn, Lena! Gentle on the merchandise," I said.

Elena put her chin on my shoulder and looked at Stefan. "You don't have to dance with her, Stefan. She's terrible and trying to guilt you," Elena laughed.

I spun her around, her brown her smacking me in the face as I did. "She lies, Stefan! I would never!" I gasped, my eyes wide in faux shock.

I made my chin wobble comically as I spun around Stefan with my sister in my arms.

"It's just...you owe me, Stefan. You're supposed to be my brother, and yet you've only danced with me twice Stefan...twice. Not to mention you were mean to me earlier today," I pouted.

The corner of Stefan's mouth turned up as he watched me pulling Elena around in circles, my head snapping in Stefan's direction at every turn. "We don't have time to dance, Ellie. We are supposed to be keeping our eyes open for Elena's little admirer," Stefan said, his eyes sweeping our surroundings.

Elena slowed our spinning procession around the dance floor and swayed closer to Stefan. "Maybe he's not gonna show," she said hopefully.

Stefan looked down into her big doe eyes and smiled at her innocent and hopeful expression. "You mean I've been forced to watch Ellie dance for nothing?" Stefan snarked, winking at me.

Elena threw her head back in laughter. I spun her into Stefan's arms with a smirk, laughing as she squealed in surprise. Still, Stefan caught her with ease, her hands landing on his broad chest, once the shock cleared from her expression she ran her hands down his chest, her full pink lips spread into a bright smile. "Elara, dancing! Ahh, the horror," Elena joked.

I scoffed beside them, swaying by myself. "I am an amazing dancer!"

I could see an intense moment was beginning to brew between them, so I casually made my way off the dance floor. Blowing out an annoyed huff of breath, I decided to once again head to the punch bowl and grab myself another disgusting cup of punch. Other than dancing and making out in dark corners, what else is there to do at functions like this?

Scooping out the disgusting sticky liquid and pouring it into a clear cup, I leaned against the table and scanned the crowd for Damon. I wasn't all that surprised when I found him quickly. Internally I groaned at his ridiculous display. It seemed he had quickly found himself a distraction. I watched in disgusted interest as he groped the girl's ass, effortlessly gliding them across the dance floor. She was pinned against him in a fashion that was better suited for a nightclub than a High School dance. I took a sip of my drink and sighed when I found it had yet to be spiked. Damn High Schoolers needed to get their act together. Where were the troublemakers when you needed them? I heard a familiar giggle and looked up to find my sister and Stefan standing next to me.

"You can't take him anywhere, can you?" she asked.

I looked back at my scandalous ex and shook my head as Stefan answered for me.

"Uh, no," he said.

I sat down my cup on the table behind me and looked up at Elena when she let out a low gasp. "Stefan, the back corner," she whispered.

Stefan looked in the direction Elena had denoted and then down to me. "Get Damon. Stay together," he said.

I nodded quickly and took Elena's wrist firmly in my hand. Stefan took off seconds later across the dance floor, pushing students out of his way as he went. The man in the hoodie that Elena had noticed exited the dance quickly, leading Stefan away from us. I looked away from Stefan's retreating figure and pulled Elena towards Damon. Before we could get more than a few steps away, Elena's cell rang. We both looked down at the silver device as if it were a ticking time bomb. Elena lifted the phone to her ear and swiped her finger across the screen. I leaned closer to her and put my ear next to her's.

"Hello, Elena. Here's what you and your sister are gonna do. There's a door behind you. You have five seconds," the man said.

I pulled away and started looking around us, searching for him.

"No," Elena gasped.

I looked at her and noticed the moment she gave in. He had obviously said something to her, her face paled. She spun around on her heels towards the punch bowl where I saw Jeremy, our Jeremy, and behind him was the vampire.

Elena looked at me in pure fear. "If we don't go, then he is going to kill Jeremy, Elara!"

My stomach fell, and I stepped up beside her, taking the phone from her grasp. I kept my eyes on the vampire a few yards ahead of us as I deliberately placed it against my ear.

"I can snap his neck so fast I bet there's not even a witness. Now, start walking. Both of you. No magic," he spat.

I nodded, taking Elena's hand, pulling her forward slowly, my eyes never leaving our very human brother. "If you touch our brother, I swear to the Gods there is not a place on this Earth you will be able to hide," I said with venom.

I guided Elena backward towards the door, feeling her body shake in fear behind me.

I heard him laugh, and it made my blood boil. "Keep walking. Through the door," he said.

The vampire started past Jeremy, who was oblivious to all that was happening around him. Thankfully the vampire decided not to touch him, but my eyes never left him as I hung up Elena's phone. When I could no longer see the vampire, I turned towards Elena and pulled her quickly past the exit.

"Run, Elena!" I shouted, pulling her behind me.

Our feet pounded against the glossy tile floors as we fled down the corridor, I glanced behind us to see if the vampire had followed us out yet but found no one. Elena's red face stared back at me in fear. Her brown eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. I pushed her into the next corridor, and we started to run until we came across a set of double doors. Elena pushed at the doors, but I stopped her when I saw the chain wrapped around the push bar.

"Elena, it's locked!" I said.

She nodded, her breathing ragged. I took her hand and squeezed it tightly.

"We're gonna be ok," I whispered.

She gasped out a cry and looked behind us. I turned around and found the vampire calmly stalking toward us. I pushed Elena behind me, ready to take him on my own if I had to.

"No, Ellie," she cried, pulling me into the next corridor.

I ran behind Elena, letting her lead me. I tried to ignore the eerie feel of the empty school. The only sound coming from our haggard breathing and the squeaking of our shoes. Finally, we made our way to the double doors of the cafeteria. I helped her push open the doors, and we both ran inside. Elena rushed to the other side of the room, where another set of doors led to the exit but yelled out in frustration when she found them locked. I stood in the center of the room, watching the entries we had come in through, waiting for the vampire to burst through, my hands lifted in expectation. I was just about to ask Elena if she was ok, but was stopped by the double doors bursting open. I didn't even have the chance to move my hands before the vampire sped towards Elena.

Elena attempted to bolt away from him, but he was faster. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her towards him. She screamed in pain and utter fear, struggling to get away. I let my hand filled with a bright cloud of magic, tossing it at the vampire. It flung him back against the wall and gave Elena the moment she needed to stand and run towards me. I pushed her behind me and bent my knees, lowering myself into a fighting stance. Elena sniffled behind me, I could smell blood and knew she was injured somehow.

The vampire stood, extending his fangs, and sped towards me. I lifted my hands in the air and pulled them back against myself before pushing them forward, yelling out in anger as I cast a large force of pure magic against him, sending him spiraling into the air. The vampire flew skyward, his arms flailing out around him as gravity took effect and started to send him back towards the ground. Elena and I watched him fall, our mouths open in shock as he landed hard on a table. He was shockingly impaled by several pencils that had been stored in a container right where his chest now lay. Of course, with our terrible luck intact, none of them hit his heart.

As he started to remove the makeshift stakes, Elena looked around us and ran behind me, finding a bucket and mop. She quickly grabbed the mop handle and snapped it against her knee until it broke in half, creating a very poor but semi-useful stake. I wanted to laugh, but I was still a bit of shock from my excessive use of magic. Elena rushed forward and realizing what she was planning, I ran to join her. The vampire stood, and when Elena tried to shove the stake in his chest, he grabbed her wrist, reaching for the stake.

I took it before he could and jammed it in his stomach. He yelled in anger, grabbing a handful of my hair and went for my neck. Elena screamed and shoved the stake further into his stomach with her other hand. Still, before he could sink his teeth into me, Stefan came from outta nowhere and ripped him away, tossing him to the ground. Elena ran towards me, tears falling from her eyes, and wrapped her arms around my neck. The vampire stood, yanking the makeshift stake from his stomach and tossing it to the ground with a growl.

"Hey, dickhead."

The vampire looked behind Stefan to where Damon was standing, holding a real stake in his hand.

"Nobody wants to kill you. We just want to talk," Damon finished with a smirk.

He looked down at me, eyes scanning my form. When he saw nothing concerning, he walked up beside Stefan, eyes on the vampire. Before either brother could speak again, the vampire smiled and sped at Elena and me. Damon threw the stake at Stefan, who grabbed it and staked the vampire in the stomach, almost directly where I had gotten him only moments before. Elena winced beside me, and I stood bringing her with me. I stared the vampire down, not feeling an ounce of sympathy for the asshole who had tried to kill my sister and threatened my brother. The vampire grunted in pain, falling to his knees. Damon walked over towards Elena and me, taking my hand and leading me towards Stefan.

"Now, you feel like talking?" Stefan asked.

I let go of Damon's hand and leaned over the vampire with a sneer.

"Screw you," he spat.

I lifted my hand and saw Stefan's fascination as the bright blue flames flickered across my fingertips. I placed my hand on the vampire's chest, just above his heart, and watched in satisfaction as his back arched off the table. His face scrunched up in pain as wave after wave of my magical signature shocked him. It was the equivalent of being in the electric chair. When I thought he had finally had enough, I lifted my hand and stepped away as he gasped for air, little whimpers leaving his lips against his volition. Damon watched me, his face blank. Elena turned away, disgust in her eyes as Stefan continued his bought of questioning.

"That was the wrong answer. Why are you doing this?" Stefan asked.

The vampire sneered, turning his head and looked at Elena, eyes taking in her face. "Because its fun,"

Stefan wrapped his hand around the stake and dug it in a little deeper, the vampire groaned deeply in pain. "What do you want with Elena?" Stefan asked, his voice beginning to fill with annoyance.

The vampire lifted his head and glared at Stefan in hatred. "She looks like Katherine,"

All at once, all of our heads snapped towards the vampire impaled on the table. How could I not have seen it? Of course, this had something to do with Katherine. As soon as Katherine's name was mentioned, Damon was alert. I shook my head and looked away from him.

"You knew Katherine?" Damon asked.

The vampire laughed, his eyes hateful. "Oh. You thought you were the only ones." he laughed through a cough, a painful gasp causing his head to fall back against the table. "You don't even remember me," he said.

Damon leaned over the vampire, and I walked closer to him, tilting his face in my direction. The longer I looked at him, the more familiar he looked, but I just couldn't place him. "What's your name?" I asked.

The vampire looked into my eyes and smiled at me. "Noah; you look just like the Miller girl I helped burn," he laughed his teeth covered in his own blood.

I let go of his face roughly, my memory of him coming back in full force. I remembered Noah, he worked right alongside the Sheriff, rounding up vampires and witches alike. I backed away from them and stood next to Elena, who wrapped her arms around me.

Stefan watched me sadly, his green eyes filling with anger.

"Tell me how to get in the tomb. Hmm?" Damon asked, his head tilting in my direction briefly.

Noah lifted his head from the table and spat at Damon. "No," he said.

Stefan leaned back and drove the stake deeper, am an extreme look of satisfaction on his face. Noah gasped in pain, his voice gasping out in fear. "The Grimoire."

Damon looked down at him in disgust. "Where is it?" he asked.

Stefan twisted the stake, blood starting to cover his pale hand. "Check the journal. The journal. Jonathan's journal. Jonathan Gilbert's," Noah pleaded.

Damon stood up and grimaced in annoyance, catching my eye. I nodded, letting him know without words that I would help him get ahold of that journal. In fact, I knew exactly where it was. Jeremy had it. Stefan took over the questioning as Damon took a moment to compose himself, finally realizing how close he was to getting into the tomb. The tomb that held absolutely nothing for him.

"Who else is working with you?" Stefan asked.

Damon stood next to him and looked back down at the vampire. "Who else is there?" he reiterated Stefan's question.

Noah panted in anger and shook his head. "No. You're going to have to kill me," he said in desperation.

Damon looked at Stefan, rolling his eyes with a nod. Stefan removed the stake quickly, looking at me as he raised it above Noah's heart, green eyes bright. I understood that he was doing this as much for me as he was for Elena. I smiled at him and nodded. Curling his lips into a half-smile, he shoved the stake into Noah's heart. Elena gasped in shock as he fell to the floor, his skin greying as he desiccated.

Elena stepped forward, her hands pulling on the ends of her hair. "What do we...how are you gonna find the others now?" she stuttered in shock.

I placed a hand on her shoulder with a sigh. Damon looked at her as if she were a frightened colt. "He had to die. Besides, he helped burn your sister alive once upon a time," he said.

Elena looked at me but quickly looked away. Stefan took pity on her. "Elena, he's been invited in," he said.

The sound of a door opening, had us all tuning in time to see the reflection of Alaric through one of the doors windows. Stefan looked at his brother. "Go. I've got this," he said.

Damon nodded, heading out of the cafeteria. I just hoped Alaric didn't do anything stupid enough to get himself killed. I'd hate to lose out on the opportunity to learn his secret. Not to mention he and Jenna made such a cute couple.

I watched Elena and Stefan curl up together on the couch from my place on one of the top stairs. She was telling him how nice it felt to fight back, how much more powerful she had felt. I tried not to think about the fact that she would be feeling more and more like a victim soon. There was no doubt in my mind that Katherine would have fun trying to torture her in any way she could. Then Niklaus would come along and force her to help him break his curse. I stood from my seat and headed up the stairs, passing by Jeremy's room where I could hear him talking on the phone with someone, a girl by the sound of it. At least somebody was able to have a bit of normalcy in their life. I shut my door behind me and plopped down on my bed beside Rebekah, meeting her blue eyes.

"I will help you with Elijah when he gets here, Beks. Tonight though, I'd like to be alone."

Rebekah's eyes clouded over with remorse, and I watched as she slowly faded away. Not even bothering to change into my pajamas, I rolled on my side and closed my eyes, wishing for the oblivion that came with a peaceful night's sleep.