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[blackknotbegone]

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#cedar apple rust #cedar rust be gone #black knot be gone #cedar rust disease #apple rust treatment

[iceandironbars]

Untouchable

The whispering in his head came to him in his sleepless nights. In the beginning he wasn't sure if it was part of the nightmares or if he was awake and hallucinating.

'Хороший Солдат...'

A deep groan, almost a purr, followed the whisper, the voice rough. He would recognize it anywhere. Relief crawled through his body and mind like a drug intoxicating his system.

'Командир.', he whispered breathlessly.

His heart leaped and felt like it was about to burst, a sharp ache spreading all the way through his chest and sideways up his neck.

For a second he thought he was choking, the air getting stuck in his throat, along with the ghostly feeling, the memory, of his Commander using his throat. Like he was made for it. And he was. That's what he always told him.

'Мой хороший мальчик... Doin so good for me... Fuck-'

His face flushed in a rush of blood that felt like it was searing his cheeks. He wanted to hide his face in the pillow, but he didn't dare move. He wasn't ordered to. He wasn't-

He was hard. Painfully so.

The voice in his head... If he closed his eyes he could see the deep amber and hazel eyes, staring right through him, intensely, with the hunger of a hunting predator, turning into liquid gold.

When the air rushed back into his lungs he could almost smell him. His scent, so vivid as if he was right here with him. Leather, rust, cedar wood and gun powder, a sharp smell, impossible to ignore and deep enough to make him drown.

A sharp gasp escaped him and he sat up on the floor, where he slept. He wasn't human. He didn't belong in a bed. That knowledge had been drilled into him for as long as it took for him to realize, he didn't want a bed either. He didn't want to be human.

Sweat was breaking out on his forehead and something between a scream and a moan caught in his chest, tangled and glued in place messily.

Inhaling the ghost's scent, he continued panting, listening to its low heady voice.

'C'mon Солдат, eyes on me- yeah, just like that... fucking slut for it, look at you-'

He heard himself whimper as he looked down his body, at his painfully hard length covered by a thin throw blanket, while his mouth shaped silent words, repeating them, begging.

'Please, please, please-'

Tears filled his eyes as his mind started clearing, realization creeping up on him-

'P-Please don't leave, please, Командир-'

He spoke now but he couldn't hear his own voice over the loud rush of blood in his ears, mounting in a high pitched beeping noise that was accompanied by black spots tainting his vision.

And then, within a second, the room was silent. Empty. No noise. No voice. No scent. Just him and his frantic breathing, his rapidly beating heart.

The Commander wouldn't stay.

He never does.

The asset knew he was gone.

He wishes he didn't.

Drawing his legs close to his body, he starts sobbing violently and wishes he could give up his mind, to make it real.

He would give up the world, his life, if that meant he could be with him again.

As he sat in his dark apartment, surrounded by the life he was cursed to continue, the relief he felt dissolved like smoke in the air. Turning everything he ever felt was solid into nothing but a breeze.

Untouchable.

#bucky barnes #brock rumlow #winterbones #winter soldier #hydra trash party #fanfic #kind of

[rahjasmine]

Can you post Spark on here? its on ao3 but i really want it to be in my blog so it easier to find. pleas eplease please!

Absolutely, anon! Here you go...

Spark

Summary:   Headcanon of what happened when Elain and Azriel stayed up alone together during the ACOFAS Solstice. Is this when the first "brush of their fingers" occurred?

Word Count: 1522

Ratings/Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst, Alcohol, Tension, Headcanon

Also available on AO3 

Elain’s first Solstice was coming to a close. Opening gifts and having dinner with Nesta in attendance had gone as well as to be expected. And then there was her swift exit in to the blustery night, money in hand and Cassian trailing after her. Elain had spent the subsequent minutes after Nesta’s departure once again perched in the window watching the snow fall beyond the warmth of the townhouse. The bay windows were caked in delicate frost. Mor, Feyre, Rhysand, and Azriel chatted quietly behind her. Amren and Varian having departed half an hour before. 

Deciding to top the night off with one more drink, Elain rose silently and glided over to the liquor cabinet along the side of the sitting room to pour herself just one more finger of dark liquor. She knocked it back, managing to not grimace as much as she did with her earlier glass. 

Elain felt a warm presence move up to her side. A heady scent of cedar and mist enveloped her as she turned to look up at him. Azriel smiled faintly as he gestured to the crystal decanter of amber liquid. “I could use one more as well.” His midnight smooth voice sent faint tingles up her spine. 

Elain smiled. Blush blooming on her cheeks before she ducked her head and stepped out of his way. She made her way back to the settee, taking a seat and plucking her garden sketches from the end table.  Her elegant fingers leafing through the pages to find where she had sketched an overall layout of the townhouse garden. 

The clock chimed three in the morning as a weight settled into the spot next to her. Rusting his wings, Azriel tried his best to shift into a comfortable position on a seat not designed to accommodate him. He angled his body slightly toward her, an arm tossed over the back of the settee. His other hand held a tumbler of whiskey and ice, resting it casually on a thigh. His long legs extended and crossed at the ankles. He exuded cool masculine confidence as he let his eyes roam from her neck and down the bodice of her amethyst velvet gown before settling on the papers in her hands. 

“Already making plans for your new gardening supplies?” He asked softly. 

Elain nodded excitedly. Golden brown curls falling over her shoulders with the movement. “Yes, I already have new plans drawn up.” She raised the papers slightly in emphasis. 

“Care to show me?” Azriel’s lips curled up at the corners, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. 

Excitement rushed through Elain. Azriel was the first one to ask to see the plans she had been working hard on perfecting for the past few days. 

“Yes.” Elain said quietly. 

She shifted her body to lean closer to him, holding the papers between them. He was looking at her plans with what seemed to be genuine interest a she began to explain her drawings. 

But before she could get into any real detail, the front door burst open and Cassian stalked in, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. The carpet in the foyer doing nothing to muffle the sound. He stalked up the stairs without a word, clearly upset by whatever had just happened outside with Nesta. Mor rose from her place at the end of the couch and hurried after Cassian, bottle of wine in hand. 

Rhysand and Feyre sighed and looked at each other, a few moments passing as they spoke silently between them before rising to make their way to the foyer and up the stairs, leaving just her and Azriel alone in a finally quiet sitting room. 

★

Azriel watched his High Lady lead Rhys around the corner and up the stairs. He finished off the rest of his liquor in a single swallow before discarding the empty glass on the low table in front of the settee. 

He heard Elain’s breath falter, drawing his attention back to her. She looked up at him, her beautiful doe-eyes flashed with uncertainty. Azriel offered her a small smile and nodded once, hoping she would continue. 

Elain leaned back in once more, holding her drawings between them. Her thigh pressed into his ever so slightly as she adjusted to begin gesturing to different features and notes. Azriel’s attention honed in on the contact. Her thick velvet gown did nothing to keep the heat from her leg from seeping into his - and combined with her exquisite scent of jasmine and honey… Azriel had to take a few subtle deep breaths through his mouth to calm himself. He wasn’t used to being so affected by a female. His centuries of well honed control usually aided him, but not with her. She has a mate. She is my friend. He reminded himself as he continued to listen to her enthusiastically explain what herbs she wanted to try adding next. 

Elain went on to explain her plans for each flower bed. Pointing to precisely drawn squares and rectangles laid out to match the garden in back as she went. Azriel enjoyed listening to her as she spoke about what made her happy. It did not matter that he had no real use for information about gardens and plants. It mattered to his friend, so it mattered to him as well. 

Elain had just about explained her entire map of the garden, though Azriel was sure she had left out the small little circles drawn around the fountain in the center of the garden. He reached up with a scarred hand to point to the feature, “And what about these–” He halted mid-sentence, as Elain reached up to point at the same spot on the map, bumping her hand into his. 

They both let out small gasps at the sudden and accidental contact. Azriel looked to her, ready to politely apologize, but when his gaze met hers he froze. Her brown eyes were swirling like molten chocolate, her lips were slightly parted and a cute little blush crept across her cheeks. 

Azriel became hyper aware again. And cauldron boil him, their hands were still held up to the map, a few of their fingers still in contact with each other. He should pull his ruined hand away from her. Apologize and move on, but damn him, he was transfixed. 

Elain made no move to end the contact either. Looking up at him like he was the very center of the universe. Azriel swallowed thickly as he finally gained the strength to move. 

He moved slowly, letting his rough index finger drag gently along the side of her much softer one. He shouldn’t have, it was wrong. But he couldn’t help himself. The sensation of their fingers brushing so tenderly sent a feeling like warm rain up his arm. And from her rapid blinking, he knew she felt it too. But miraculously, Elain didn’t balk or pull her hand away. She let him sweep the entire length of her hand - fingertip to the back of her palm. 

When his hand finally returned to his lap, she lowered hers. Elain broke the eye contact first. Rising quickly and glancing to the clock on the mantle of the fireplace. Only hot coals remained now, the house and street beyond were quiet. 

“I am not used to staying up this late, I should go – to bed.” Elain said, only a slight stutter as she spoke. Looking back to him with a shy smile. 

She discarded her papers on the end table as he too rose and tucked in his wings. “Let me walk you to your room.” Azriel blurted. 

Elain froze mid stride to the foyer. Glancing back at him. Azriel knew he had assuredly overstepped now, but she surprised him yet again tonight as she smiled coyly, nodding once. 

They ascended the stairs together silently. Turning into the hallway, they came to Azriel’s door first, and Elain stopped. 

He gave her a puzzled look but she cracked a devious smile as she whispered almost to quiet for even his shadows to hear, “It looks like I’ve actually escorted you to your room.” 

Azriel was dumbfounded as she walked to the next door down the hall - her room. He placed his hand on the doorknob to steady himself. Elain stood down the hall at her door. And even in the dark hallway, on the longest night of the year, she glowed like the sun at dawn as she smiled at him. 

“Goodnight.” She whispered as she opened her door and disappeared behind it. 

Azriel shook himself from his trance and entered his room quickly and silently. Seeing that Cassian wasn't in his bed, Azriel let out an audible sigh as his shadows swarmed him. He fished her gift from the pocket of his tailored jacket and looked at the small vial in the palm of his scarred hand. The same hand that he had just let touch hers. The ghost of the sensation of their fingers brushing so delicately had him shuddering. He closed his hand around the vial.

Azriel knew then that he was well and truly fucked. 

#elriel fanfiction #elriel

[aria-ashryver]

Scents in Starlight

ive noticed this super helpful list of scents for writers popping up on my feed a lot today and it got me curious about what specific scents I have mentioned so far in my SICSIG descriptions, and whether i was making good use of scent in my scenes to create a sense of atmosphere.

Turns out I have mentioned at least 80 different scents so far, so uhh,, i'd say im doin alright on that front!

Here's a few favs ✨✨✨

The trio's individual scents

Gabriel (Cas's POV)

Golden Boy always smelled like chamomile. Chamomile and licorice and vanilla ice cream with a hint of bourbon. Sweet, but not too sweet. It was a scent so delicately fragrant that every time Cas smelled it, it made him want to punch something. He was pretty sure it wasn’t a cologne or anything — Golden Boy just smelled like that. Not that Cas spent an inordinate amount of time sniffing Adalhard, or anything.

Luca (Cas's POV)

Cas couldn’t say he’d never thought about it. Some days he’d catch a hint of Luca’s scent, the cinnamon-caramel-brandy-laced heat of their skin making him think of baked goods and decadent desserts. It was only natural for some instinctive part of him to perk up and wonder if Luca’s blood would taste as rich and sweet as they smelled.

Cas (Gabriel's POV)

Gabriel was standing in the circle Cas Harlow’s arms, his chest solid and warm against his back. This close, he could smell the vestiges of Cas’s cologne clinging to his skin.

Bright mandarin, woody cedar, the earthy spice of patchouli mixed with notes of leather.

Cassius permanent-thorn-in-his-side Harlow had no business smelling that good!

A few descriptions I like!

The rain had stopped in the time that he’d been gone; the world smelled of wet pavement and gasoline, and the air outside had a thin kind of quality to it. An empty, sucking thing. Grey. The pause before an intake of breath.

--

Flakes of off-white paint speckled their fingers as they climbed, the smells of rust and tractor oil comforting to Cas in an odd kind of way.

--

When Gabriel arrived at Luca’s house after a tiresome first day back at school, it was to be met with the homely smells of sugar and vanilla wafting through the air. He breathed it in deep, something nostalgic tugging at his heart.

--

The earthy smells of bursting pollen and damp moss lifted underfoot with each step of his heavy boots. A finch took off from the treetops, snapping a twig as it went.

--

Cas had smelled of melancholy when he’d arrived at the coven meeting last night. Of the hoppy, frothy tang of cheap beer and spray paint.

--

He’d dreamed of them last night. Memories so clear he could all but smell the paint thinner as his sister Michaela rinsed out her paintbrushes at the kitchen sink, her easel set up in the sunny bay window where their grandmother liked to read the mail.

--

Notes of bourbon clung in the air, cloying and sweet; then there was the saltier, muskier smell of sweat and leather; older scents of gasoline, concrete, and dust; smoky, electrical heat from the dim hanging lights; the bright florals of Val’s perfume cut through with notes of coffee where she stood next to him; and there, on Luca’s other side, a wild, masculine, mouth-watering scent that could only be Cas.

I'm certain I've missed several, but here's what I've described so far in Starlight!

Green / Natural

Damp earth

Pollen

Moss

Mud

Wet bark

Rain

Smoke

Cedar

Juniper resin

Pine sap

Fruit / Vegetables

Mandarin

(apparently I don't describe the scent of fruit much)

(which is criminal, bc my fav scent in the world is nectarines)

Florals / Herbs / Spices

Orchids

Lilies

Lavender

Patchouli

Cinnamon

Turmeric

Paprika

Saffron

Star anise

Fennel

Parsley

Garlic

Parmesan

Urban / Industrial

Blood (death / copper / iron - its a vampire fic, there are a lot of iterations of this one lol)

Skin

Sweat

Antiseptic

Lemon dishwashing liquid

Cold night air

Smoke

Gasoline

Leather

Diesel fumes

Wet pavement

Warm rubber

Dust

Paint thinner

Hot, old electronics

Concrete

Candle smoke

Bubblegum scented gel markers

Shampoo

Nail polish

Moisturiser

Mist of a freshly-used shower

Floral perfume

Musky cologne

Damp carpet (post-flooding)

Pine-based cleaning products

Plastic

Cotton sheets

Spray paint

Rust

Tractor oil

Cheap beer

Weed

Bong water

Food

Coffee

Freshly-baked brownies

Burnt toast

Vanilla extract

Baking cupcakes

Sugar-scented air

Caramel

Churros

Brandy

Bourbon

Chamomile

Vanilla ice cream

Licorice

Beef stew

Black pepper

Bacon

Pancakes

Sourdough pizza

This list was so fun to put together! And it just makes me want to describe scent even more; its so very evocative in establishing mood and making scenes feel more immersive.

#And to think #i was sure this list would mostly be baking lmao #im actually quite proud of how extensive this is! #SICSIG #writing tools

[whaleofatjme1920]

🌹Well, uh, here goes nothing, I guess?

Kitty, creepypasta/mh, she/her, 19, romantic

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

Several letters end up scattered in a fireplace, written with red ink before the text is scribbled out. Some phrases stand out from the discarded letters, "Too many bones", "is a soulmate possible", "getting old", "I've gotten weak" and so on.

A single letter sits pristinely by the window, sealed with red wax and perfumed with the scent of roses and dragons blood. A small jar of hard candies, two bottles of black ink, a rusty nail, and a silver bell sit next to the letter as well, presumably offerings to the deity.

The letter, much like its discarded predecessors, is also written in red ink, elegant cursive spelling out Yue Lao across the front, little curlicues decorating the corners.

"Yuo Lao,

I have heard that you will grant to blessing of a soulmate upon those who write to you, and I was curious to try. I left a few offerings, of you don't mind. The butterscotch and strawberry candies are my favorite, so I made sure to fill the jar full, as well as the other granny candies. Granny candies is a silly way to call hard candies, but I guess these things won't be around much longer, how shameful. I left ink as well, you might have a use for it. I like it to write with. I've found writing with a quill is easier on my hands than a regular pen. And a bell. Bells are always wonderful. I have an anklet made of bells and they laugh with the light and movement. And the nail I thought was cool, the way the rust climbs across its surface. Don't you think so too?

I don't know if this is allowed, but I would like my soulmate to be tall, if that's alright. Maybe one or two feet taller. I'm rather short, only 5'2", and no matter how feisty I try to be, I don't always get taken seriously. I've taken to biting people, it's that bad. Of course, if you have someone else in mind, that's fine to. Beggars can't be choosers and the whole saying about being selfish and the like.

I have a fondness for being out in the woods. All the things you can find! And it's peaceful, and safe. It feels like home. And it smells good! Fresh pine, sharp cedars, sweet maples. The woods just feel like home.

I've found I enjoy the macabre. It worries some people, but I don't mind. Plushies that look ghouls, horror stories as bedtime tales, bones of willing creatures displayed upon my alter. I have seen scarier things and experienced such.

My body has grown weak. I take such terrible care of it. Perhaps you can send somebody to lovingly scold me, maybe tell me what's wrong so I can take better care of it. Sorry. I'm already asking a lot.

I guess one, final request. Can you make it possible to find my soulmate, whoever they are, across lifetimes as well? I'm scared of leaving those I care about alone after I'm gone. I don't want that to happen. After all, a soulmate is going to be somebody I care about.

Anyway, you probably have other people you've got to get through. Must be very busy, right?

Take care and enjoy the candies!

~Kitty"

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

Thank you so much, Elsie! And as a challenge, indulge yourself! Eat your favorite food. Watch your favorite things. Finals are rough, but you got this!!

Take care and unclench your jaw!

[Disclaimer: The Red String of Fate event is a special event I'm running from August 12th, to whenever I feel it necessary to end - right now, I'm giving it to the first week of September! Check out rules HERE]

An old God sits on the steps of his palace under the light of the moon. The air is sweet, peach trees are in full bloom and bear their fruit to him as he waits for his trusty companion to return. He hears her soft paw falls, the way she chitters as she approaches him with a letter in her mouth. She purrs as she rubs against his shins before he gently takes the letter from her mouth alongside the offerings that rest on her back in a basket. She curls on his lap as he begins to read.

Yue Lao smiles, his eyes crinkling slightly as he gazes over the words. He takes a candy and tries it, humming at the taste and noting that it wasn't "too sweet" before pressing on further. A laugh escapes his lips as he reads over what you want in your soulmate, someone tall, someone who can appreciate the macabre, someone who can appreciate you for who you are and respect you as an equal. His cat chirps a few times, drifting names through his head.

He ponders the thought some more, spinning the rusted nail in his finger tips before finally coming to his conclusion. Yes, he thinks, you are exactly what he needs. The God clicks his tongue a few times and asks his trusty companion for her to retrieve a spool of thread that looks red in some lights, and purple if you squint. He almost finds it funny - this is the thread destined for those who will continuously meet, and the fact it beckons him allows him to know this is no ordinary match.

He ties the string to your pinky, and your match's left and watches as his cat bites the thread, severing it from the spool. He watches with a sleepy smile as a demon known as "Eyeless Jack" finds himself bewildered at the thread that materializes on his hand, wondering if he'd need to push the being to pursue it.

Jack's asked about this kind of stuff before. His curiosity is endless, and the sudden thread on his finger has brought him more mystery than ever. He's almost tempted to drop all plans to pursue it, but he's read up on legends and mythology of other cultures throughout all his years of life. This is a red string of fate, and whoever is on the other end is his soul mate. Other independents can see it, and they lovingly tease him for it.

"Jackie's finally got a soulmate", they tease as he absentmindedly takes up jobs leading him closer and closer to the thread. He doesn't rush, but he can feel the tug from you. You're eager to meet him, aren't you? The demon takes his time, but can hardly stop the anticipation from swelling deep inside of him. Every job that he takes that's closer and closer to you, he feels his nerves grow. It's not that he's anxious, but what on earth will you think of him?

One evening after the trees and their leaves metamorphose from emeralds to rubies and citrines, he chances upon the house his string leads to. He watches as the light shifts from red to a near purple, fluttering like the butterflies in your stomach, and his heartbeat combined. He takes in a soft breath, wondering if he should greet you like a "normal person" if he even knew what that was to begin with. He steps quietly and takes in the smell of autumn before you swing the door open.

Speechless, the two of you just stare at each other. He's a deeply royal blue in the blazing fires of autumn. He waves almost awkwardly, and you find yourself mirroring it. You step forward, just an inch closer, before looking up at him with a small smile on your lips. Jack watches you, his eyeless sockets wide as he studies every micro movement from behind his mask. He's just a bit tense, unsure of how to feel. Will you hate him? He's never been more nervous in his natural life, certainly not around people he'd normally consider food.

"You're tall."

"I get that a lot."

#red string of fate the event #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack headcanon #creepypasta x reader

[really2hoagain]

Warnings: Ambiguous Ending, a/b/o dynamics, Alphas Hongjoong Yunho Mingi Yeosang, Omegas Jongho Seonghwa, Humans San Wooyoung, Angst, guns and knives are present, mentions of panic attack, Parents Seongjoong

3.6k

Main pairing: 2ho

Side pairing: Seongjoong

Make Me Feel Welcomed

Jongho was assigned to infiltrate the Kim pack. It's dangerous, the Kims are a nomadic pack that recently settled near a hunter camp, Jongho's. They knew, too. Hunters did not hide. They were loud about their location. 

Their pack alpha, Kim Hongjoong, has never been seen. But Jongho's heard the whispers. A powerful, demanding man, he runs the pack with an iron fist, so much so his packlings beg for mercy, for death. Because returning with defeat would result in a fate worse. 

Jongho knows he's good for the job. Knows because of the Lycan blood that circulates his bloodstream. They'll accept him, because of his Lycan father. He just has to play the part. 

They staged it of course. Wooyoung was chasing him through the forest. San, walking towards him. The gunshots rang loud in his ears, whizzing past his head. He screamed when one nicked his ear. Bullets plated in silver cause his skin to melt and peel exposing the gray cartilage and vibrant blood vessels that pulsed red with each contraction of his heart. His skin fizzes, like acid was poured onto his skin. It burns, sending heatwaves down his neck. He slows down, just a tad, to glare at Wooyoung.

He's never seen Wooyoung from this perspective, never been the prey before. A smooth, silver tipped muzzle meets his gaze. Wooyoung doesn't hesitate to pull the trigger. His heart falls, as he ducks down. Wooyoung could kill him. They need it to look authentic, but it's too real. Wooyoung and San are hunting him. He doesn't scream, it gets stuck in his throat. Everything does, as a loud bang echoes through the forest as wood where Jonghos head once was explodes behind him. It rings through his ears, vibrates his ear drums and muddles his mind.

He whines, high and loud. Something hes never done before, but he's never been afraid like this either. His palms sweat, his closed fists clamy and uncomfortable, but if he opens them, they'll shake. 

San tackles him from behind, shoving his face into the damp dirt. It tastes of rust, grainy mulch collecting on his tongue. 

"Got you," San whispers, prideful.

Fingers graze over the melting skin on his ear. . Sans delicate fingers wrap into the strands of his hair, pulling up, where he can see Wooyoung, stalking closer, silver gun raised. Jongho yelps. They both hesitate, likely fearing they're gone too far.

"Jong-" San barely gets out before hes just gone. 

The weight that held him down fully disappeared. Wooyoung goes down as well. Tackled from behind. He didn't even see the alpha come up, didn't smell him. He cries out, because his friends are going to die and it's his fault for getting distracted.

He starts hyperventilating, his vision blurring as the alpha forces Wooyoung's hands behind his back. The alpha is pretty, Jongho thinks, then his vision dulls into nothingness.

~~~

When he awakes, he's strewn over soft furs and fluffy pillows. It’s warm, the fire that burns just passed the doorway heating the tent around them. His ear pulses warmly, it’s uncomfortable, but not terrible. Wholly, he feels okay, his body aches though. 

San. Wooyoung. 

Where are they? Jongho feels the panic settles in, his heart racing. He tries to stand, only to realize his ankle is shackled to a post. Frustrated tears prick at the corner of his eyes as he tries to pull the metal clasp apart, clawing desperately. 

"No, no, please-" 

"Calm down," he hears a soft voice from the doorway.

He stills, body freezes. They're an omega, though mated to someone with an overpowering scent of cedar wood. Jongho dares a glance. He’s beautiful, Jongho finds. With high cheekbones, plush pink lips, and a mother’s glow. His eyes wrinkle with his smile, showing cracks of old age. 

Jongho has never seen an omega before this. Most of what he saw were half formed alpha warriors, whose bodies were carried to camp and presented as trophies. Their bodies deformed, covered in gray skin and silver hair, with eyes like blood, and claws like wolves. He appears mostly human. Jongho doesn’t know how humans could truly tell the difference. 

"We just needed to make sure you wouldn't run when you woke up, if you promise not to, I'll take it off," he speaks so slow, with a butter smooth voice. "Can you do that for me?" 

Jongho nods once, breaking eye contact to stare at the floor. He knows he has to play his cards right. Act stupid, use his human blood to his advantage.

The omega produces a key from his long, draped sleeves. When he bends over, his hands hesitate over Jongho’s exposed ankle. 

"Can I touch you?" He tries to look Jongho in the eyes, but Jongho won’t let him.

"Yes." 

From this close, the omegas gray hairs stand strong against the blond. His hands make quick work of the contraption. It falls from his ankle with an unceremonious clank. He's free, though he forces himself to stay. 

"So, what was an unmated omega doing running through the forest alone?" 

"I-I'm an omega?" Jongho didn't mean to say it. Didn't even realize what he was saying until it spilled from his lips.

Jongho instinctively could smell the differences between alpha, omega, and beta, though he had no way of knowing himself. The humans never told him, his secondary sex, even when he presented, he was just given a warm tea that burned his throat. At the time, Jongho assumed he was a beta. He had one rough night, though his body went through so little change, it made sense. He wonders if that’s why his adoptive father accepted him, because he wasn’t a dangerous alpha, and would never be one.

Everyday Jongho drank that same bitter tea, though the burning turned warm and welcomed. He never questioned why Wooyoung and San weren’t given the same one, just assumed it was his mothers terrible cooking. 

His father always taught that these packs are highly segregated. Alphas are rulers, leaders, while omegas were made to stay at home, to cook and clean and slave for their alphas. They’re made to be weak, pathetic. But this omega doesn't seem weak, or pathetic. He’s lean, toned with hard muscles, and scars littering his tan skin. A hunting knife sits against his side, tucked into a hold, though loose enough to be easily removed if needed. 

"You were raised by the humans," he says.

Jongho nods again. "My mother was a human, my father an alpha. He was killed by hunters," after killing my mother, "and they took me in. When they realized… what I was-" Jongho choked a bit. 

He remembers when he presented. The look of unadulterated horror on his adoptive father’s face. The panic, when Jongho smiled with his sharp fangs meant to tear people apart, his black claws meant for shredding. 

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," he whispers. 

Jongho nods once. 

"What, did you do- to, to the humans?" He asks once. 

"Currently, they're being guarded," was all the omega offered. 

Jongho didn't push.

It took a while to discover who this omega was, though eventually he met the entire family. Three sons, the ones who found Jongho in the forest, the eldest, Yunho, the middle, Yeosang, and the youngest, Mingi, as well as their Oma Seonghwa, and their Ala Kim Hongjoong. Oma, as Seonghwa explained, was the Lycan equivalent of mother. Oma was for any omega, and Ala for any alpha.

Hongjoong is short, smaller than Seonghwa. He has elf-like features, soft cheeks, but a sharp nose and jaw. He spouts no gray hairs, somehow it still sits black and sleek, despite being twice Jongho’s age. Just like Seonghwa, he was fully lean muscle, toned. His skin was a milky white, and Jongho has to wonder how, since he spends so much time outdoors. 

When Hongjoong notices Jongho’s curious eyes, darting between his eyes and nails, he laughs, explaining that he can shift. He only changes his eyes in front of Jongho. His natural color is a hazel, though it disappears into a black with a blind. Jongho finds that he’s likely stuck because of his human blood.

 Different.

Jongho stayed with Seonghwa and Hongjoong, as they did not want him, an unmated omega, sharing space with their three alpha sons. 

"You cannot trust those alphas, even if they're my sons, I have to keep you safe," Oma once said. 

Yunho is the kindest, who often came to check in on him. Left him small gifts such as pelts and jewelry. He likely felt bad for him, Seonghwa said. Because Jongho was so scared that day in the forest, he feels guilty for not coming sooner. He makes Jongho feel guilty. 

Ala asked Yunho to teach Jongho about the way of the pack. To show him how they live, how they operate. Surprisingly, they're nothing like the stories Jongho heard growing up. There are rules in place to protect omegas, to ensure their safety from alphas. Omegas run the camp, for the most part, since alphas are off hunting or patrolling, though both roles are equal. 

He walks him through the pack daily, introducing him to all they come across. Jongho’s mesmerized by just how much he knows. All omegas older than Yunho he calls Oma, because the pack is a family. Yunho explains how the omegas all raise pups together. They do not turn children away. 

It happens often. Unruly youngins running from tent to tent, chasing after each other while Omas scream and laugh. There is a level of respect that the children earn. They are afforded play time  just as often they are made to learn. Each time they pass, Yunho smiles at them, softens at their presence. He wants kids, he explained once. Says that he adores them. He notes his own Oma in the moment, the strong, stern omega with soft eyes. Oma raised him to respect the land, to take just enough to live. Oma taught him to swim, to hunt, to read and write. Yunho wants that too, wants something to love, and someone to love with. 

Jongho didn’t want kids before meeting the Kims. 

Yeosang is chivalrous. He always offers Jongho the right of way, always holds open doors (though its not like there are actual doors here, just pelts blocking tent doorways), and offers Jongho things like flowers. He’s very sweet and shy too, offering shy smiles and cute waves. Jongho wishes each exchange didn't fill him with dread. 

He teaches Jongho the pack order. The Kim’s are the leaders. Under them are the warriors and their omegas. Merchants, farmers, and hunters are on the same level. Ala calls them the blood of the pack, the warriors might be the ones who protect, but the merchants and farmers feed them, clothe them. Without them, there is nothing. 

Yeosang’s main job is to watch the prison. He spends most of his day tending to them, even personally cooks for the prisoners. This is where Wooyoung and San reside. Jongho knows because he's heard them before. The prison is still a tent, the walls are fabric. Walking by he can hear them talking lowly, sharing whispers. Yeosang always shoos his away because he doesn’t want to frighten the omega. Jongho doesn’t know how to explain that San and Wooyoung don’t scare him.

Mingi is wild, a partier. He shows Jongho how he can have fun. Shows him places where he can go swimming in the nearby lakes. Jongho doesn’t mention that he’s been there a thousand times with the very friends rotting in their prison. Introduces him to the young omegas in their pack. Gets him to make friends, who accept him for who he is. Though its not like San and Wooyoung didn’t not accept him.

It takes a week for Jongho to go into heat. He’s never experienced a heat before this. Seonghwa says it’s likely because they were slipping him wolfsbane, a natural hormone suppressant for Lycans. The omegas take care of him the entire time. They hold him close, cuddle and coddle him, feed and bath him, protected him from alphas that might be lurking. His entire body hurts, the Oma’s say it’s because he only ever had one heat.

Jongho doesn’t immediately recognize the scent of the shirts placed in his hands at the start of each day. Its warm though, ignites a small fire in the pit of his belly. It smells of the forest, earthy and cool. It takes three days of this, to recognize the new shirt that’s being placed into his arms. A cream button down, decorated with small cherry wood buttons. He’d seen Yunho wear it once, recalled the way it tailored to his waist and hugged his broad shoulders. The wrists flared out, covering Yunho’s knuckles. Jongho couldn’t believe it at first. But Oma confirmed it when questioned. It makes his heart swell.

He feels safe, in the hands of the omegas. He briefly wonders about Wooyoung and San, if they feel safe, ankles chained to the damp dirt floor of their prison. Does Yeosang treat them well? Does Mingi’s daily visits make them laugh ever? Are they hurt?

Jongho doesn’t remember much from his heat. All he can really remember is the pain, the heat, the unholy desires for a certain alpha.

Yunho greets him when he first awakens. The pain of his heat no longer pains him. It doesn’t hurt to stand. Oma still hovers in the doorway; Jongho doesn’t miss the flash of the blade, as it slides back into his long blue sleeves. The omega smiles warmly, winks. The knife isn’t for him.

Yunho takes him swimming. Says that its refreshing after a rut and must be the same for a heat. The cool water raises hairs as he walks into the lake. Fish scatter under the clear water, disappearing faster than the ripples can reach them. The water flows slowly, meandering over smooth river rock. The water makes his thin shorts halo around his thighs. How long had it been since San or Wooyoung were allowed to swim?

The birds sing in tune with the wind, whistling high and sweet. From the shoreside, the reflection of the trees dance lazily on the water, swaying with the chilled wind. The water flows and trickles over the rocks, merging into a small waterfall at the water’s edge. Yunho watches from the trees, as Jongho steps into the scene.

His footsteps are silent, until they wade in the shallow waters behind. Warm, strong arms wrap around his shoulders, pulled him in. Jongho’s back rests against Yunho’s front. They watch together, silently. As the world around them ebbs and flows quietly.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Anything,” Yunho whispers into the exposed skin of his neck, lips grazing skin.

There is nothing to say, yet everything. The weight of this burden has been cumbersome, and the task of lifting it was always too daunting. Jongho finally belongs, and yet he is still an outsider by blood.

“San and Wooyoung are my friends,” Jongho says into the wind.

Yunho stills, arms flexing and holding him down, “I understand, you are from their camp-“

Jongho pulls, Yunho does not let them go. They step deeper into the water, kicking up mud and dirt. Disturbing the once clear lake.

“I am with them. This was my mission. To infiltrate, to kill Ala.”

The birds stop singing so sweetly. Their songs quicken, as the wind stills around them. Maybe they watch from their perches, as the two below quarrel so calmly. Like honey and oil, wholly unalike, yet they collide despite.

Yunho holds him closer, pulls him tighter. Jongho’s chest cannot inflate, he’s choking. Yunho encompasses him, surrounds him in soured scent. Jongho does not struggle, does not even move. He allows Yunho to surround him, relaxes into it even.

“You must never tell Ala. Oma can never hear of this.”

Yunho lets him go, removing his warmth and stability. Jongho falls back, into the cool waters. The sunlight cascades through the murky waters, dirtied by him. He should never have agreed to this. Should have known he couldn’t. Father always said he was too soft, maybe it’s true. He sucks in a breath, under the water, the burn cooled by water itself. But Jongho does not want to die.

When he arises, he coughs, sputtering and choking as his lungs desperately squeeze out the unwelcome liquid. It hurts more this way, though he accepts the pain. He deserves this, for the pain he’s caused his friends.

The burn lasts longer than the coughing fit. Yunho watches from the side of the pool, makes no effort to assist. He doesn’t need help, though a warm hand on his back would be nice. Though he doesn’t deserve it, not really.

“What will become of my friends,” Jongho asks when the coughing finally subsides.

Yunho watches as the sun sets behind the trees, casting yellows and oranges across the clouds.

“I will not tell you,” He speaks low and slow.

“Damn you Yunho, you must tell me,” Jongho pushes.

“I will not. That is between Yeosang and Ala, ther-”

“Then ask Yeosang… For help. They can escape-”

 “For Yeosangs head, I think not,” Yunho stands, dusting his dark trousers. “We must go, it is getting dark.”

“You’re a coward Yunho,” Jongho follows behind with no further qualms.

Its dark, by the time they arrive back home, the night air settles in fog over the campsite, snuffing out the campfire light. Yunho drops him off at the Kims tent in silence. Seonghwa inside, humming as he cooks over the fireplace.

“How was swimming honey?” He asks.

Jongho smiles as best he can, “It was fun!”

Would a knife to the thigh feel better than this burning shame? Guilt weighs so heavily on his heart, and yet he must carry it. 

"We're gonna take this over to the kid's tent tonight, why don't you and Ala head over now?"

Hongjoong rises from his spot in the dark corner. Jongho jumps, hadn't realized he was there. Heart thumping nervously in his chest, he nods. He doesn't want to be alone with Ala, he's scared of what might get said, or worse, be left unsaid. 

"Why are you nervous?" Hongjoong asks. 

Its dark, and cold, Jongho didn't have time to grab a jacket and Ala didn't offer him one either. He shivers, as the cold permeates his skin. His clothes are still damp, though less now. He just wants to lay by the fire and sleep. 

"I-Ala…" the omega worries his lip between his teeth, "I don't know how to tell you," Jongho stops, and looks down. 

"Is this about your friends?" 

Jonghos head shoots up, searching Hongjoongs eyes in the dark. He wants to cry. He feels sick, because Ala knows. 

"We'll discuss this later, for now, why don't we just eat?" He smiles, white fangs on full display. A predator. 

Jongho nods and walks in silence the rest of the way. They're on opposite sides of the camp, to offer the most protection to the people. Its how Yunho heard his screams that day, because if he hadn't, no one would have came.

Theres smoke bellowing from inside the tent, the center open to release smoke. An unrecognizable figure stands outside, near the back. Jongho shouldn't see him, he realizes. He's not supposed to. 

If I run now, he'll surely catch me. 

Jongho plays along. Walks into the tent willingly. Its worse inside, worse than he could imagine. Yunho stands just before the fire. On either side, Wooyoung and San stand. 

Yeosang holds Wooyoungs bound hands with one, a silver knife glinting dangerously. They're expressionless, both of them. Wooyoung won't acknowledge him, stares forward to the light dancing on the tents wall. He looks okay, he's not noticeably lost weight, he's not bruised or scraped. 

Mingi holds San, close to his chest. It looks more defensive than anything. One hand resting on Sans waist, in the other, a knife all too similar to Yeosangs. San looks slightly worse, a bruise in his eye and cut on his lip, though they look old and healing. Could it be from that day in the woods? Sans eyes shine with tears, though he still offers Jongho a short nod. 

Hongjoong kicks him, the heel of his boot digging into the small of his back, causing him to fall forward. Jonghos catches himself, just before the dancing fire. Landing so close he can feel the hairs on his knuckle sear in the heat. He tries to escape it, to crawl backwards, but Yunho is on top of him faster than he can cry out. The alpha roughly grabs his wrists, yanking them behind his back. Jongho's should screams in agony from the unnatural twisting, muscles convulsing under skin in shock. He whimpers loudly, Yunho sighs and moves his arm more gently. His right arm hangs lamely beside, bitter agony erupting down his spine in protest to each twinge of muscle. 

"Yeosang and Mingi filled you in then?" Hongjoong asks as Yunho physically raises Jongho, like it's easy. 

Jongho is made to stand with his back to Yunho. He can feel, from their close proximity, each shaky breath the alpha draws. He's nervous, though his scent is completely neutral. 

The flames flicker in Hongjoongs eyes as he stares; forces eye contact with Jongho. In his hand, a staff, painted black, except the top, where a small skull sits. This is the Kim Hongjoong father warned me of.

#ateez fanfic #a/b/o fanfic #a/b/o verse #ateez #jongho #2ho #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #jung wooyoung #song mingi #ambiguous ending #angst #ateez angst

[newmooninhername]

Mist constrained itself to the woods, drawing out the pale greys and clay browns of the greater forest across the clearing. Winter limbs clung to their last scraps of clothing; roughspun rust browns and oranges, the occasional blood drop of a cardinal. The cedars had taken on a yellowed coating, branch-tips alone, striking in the mist against the kelp green of needles, bark black against the backdrop. It was exquisite to behold outside the morning window, after a night spent cradling aching hips and bones the very best her bed was able.

The song had stayed for days; playing in her mind as she rose into the physical world each morning...or had it been playing even before she woke?

"She was there when Babylon fell,

on Ninevah's final cry,

on Troy's dying knell,

and watching the Nazarene die..."

Hubbarth Sløth

How could they not be speaking of Hekate? She stretched and lay her hand on Cumae's head, feeling the heat there. It was time to visit the Historian.

Phileremon thawed and ate a rich sandwich of ham, bacon and cheese, kept frozen for the rare occasions when she ascended the stairs to Jonnthan's world. She didn't know why, but a heavy meal helped ward against the effects of physically dimensioning into his realm, kept her guts from aching. It was an uncomfortable transition to his room, but worth the knowledge he shared.

She dressed, looking around. Felt as if she was forgetting something. It had been awhile since visiting Jonnthan last. Months. Though he loved the dark he hated winter, could be as cold as the weather during those months. There were no windows in his room to even see the weighted clouds, and he rarely left but to work or buy a few food items. He barely ate.

Phileremon walked out of her room and turned to the left in the hallway. Instead of taking the stairs downward towards her living room, however, she raised her foot, stepped into thin air, whose particles thickened into a flat though invisible surface.

It was a long flight up to the indigo door. She took it slowly, to observe her feet as they aged in the transition between dimensions. It was fascinating. First, the veins in the ankles swelled, rippled beneath the skin that thinned around it. Constellations of small, rounded bumps popped up and curled around the top of her foot. The shapes they made were different each time.

An invisible needle tattooed a bloody symbol between her pinky toe and its neighbor. It was always the same shape and would only last until she returned home. Phileremon wished it would stay. She quite liked it despite the pain, though the sting centered her, quieted her mind.

Years ago now, Jonnthan had forged the symbol the fourth time she had gone to speak with him; a ward to protect her from harm, as her mind was still too unfocused to be safe during her visits there. In his libraries, and even in the air he breathed, there was knowledge to be had that one could only gain access to once capable of keeping one's mind still.

Upon her third visit she had inadvertently haunted herself, picking up a book, flipping to the middle to read while his back was turned. Entitled Sephiroth, Qliphoth: Embracing One, Shedding Another, by Arche Ratefjr, the book detailed the anti-aspects of the Tree of Life. As it just so happened, Phileremon had unfulfilled past life agreements with those beings, so she was instantly sucked onto one of the Qliphoth's planes.

She had a different body there: long black hair, dark brown skin, a straw skirt and bare feet, one bracelet of protection around each ankle. As she came into that body, she noted that her feet were tapping in dance to a sacred song that could be heard in the distance. It was a dexterous spell to hold the intense vibrations of the dimension at bay. She felt it crushing down on her like a sky of concrete, threatening to burst the pale yellow sphere of protection around her. It felt like, if she stopped dancing, the vibration would crush her out of existence. The woman was obviously not qualified to be in such a place.

The Tree of Life lay before her, both a path and a behemoth being. She could sense Its intellect, beyond anything she had ever come in contact with. It knew her past, present and future, and Its eye was turned on her. She didn't sense evil, but the intellect was so great that she was aware of being absolutely helpless against whatever it willed.

The trunk and branches of the Lifeside were blocked by a sort of static, so that she could not see up the many pathways of light. But suddenly she appeared behind it, to witness the anti-side of the Sephiroth. The Qliphoth side was black. A wan light shone from light years away, where its top branch-paths lay, and giant bird creatures flew in circles there. By the size of it, she could tell that its trunk was so large as to take several lifetimes to traverse.

It drew her into its branches and she lived many lifetimes there; every profoundly sad, abusive childhood of everyone who had ever taken that path. Every addiction, every crime committed, every moment spent lonely and alone in the hell of their mind. Lifetimes running like movies, one after another; cycles of lives upon the Earth, each suffering wanderer seeking a way out, a way to the side of Life, getting lost and found over and over. Meanwhile, the Qliphoth was staring into her soul, holding her there so that she couldn't leave on her own.

It took time for Jonnthan to return her from that place, and he wasn't sure he fully had averted the behemoth's eyes. She tried not to be shamed by her stupidity, but it was hard in his presence not to feel like the novice she was, especially when her body was so much older than his.

The Qliphoth had inserted Itself into her dreams a few nights after, luring her back to It, but each time she danced it away, though, strangely, she felt as if she wanted to return to It. After those few nights It did not return...or had it? Phileremon suddenly made a connection: her psychotic break and the seven years it had taken to wrestle her sanity back from. Had that been the influence of the Qliphoth? Was she headed now to the side of Light?

Watching her feet change was entertaining, but the transformation of the rest of her, the girl liked not so much. Beginning at her thighs, the yoga pants she had learn to don beforehand stretched under the weight of new fat growth. A blob of it bubbled out and bobbed languidly about her midsection, turning the waistband of her underwear down. Fat then moved to her armpits, under her chin. The skin on the back of her hands grew wrinkled, and she could feel them crinkling around her eyes also.

It was hard to breathe. Every joint hurt, hips worst of all. A scolial curve writhed to life in the middle of her back, a snake of a thing between muscles that stabbed sharply at first, setting in like winter hibernation. She wished she had remembered her cane, and had eaten more burdock root that week. Note to self.

Spiraling above where her attic should have been, through the roof and into the sky above her house, the girl breathed out youth and breathed in middle age. She opened the indigo door between dimensions and stepped through.

[dawnedon]

The Old Chateau - Layout

Previous HC - Overview/History

The main grounds

The main grounds of the Old Chateau is incredibly large and sprawling, especially when entering the area behind the manor. White, decayed fencing lines the front yard of the house, housing tall evergreen trees and other various bushes and plantlife native to the Sinnoh region. By now, a lot of the vegetation has completely overtaken the grounds, overgrowing and flooding the area in verdant greens. Moss hangs tightly to the cobble and brick of the mansion, while deep green ivy can be seen snaking upwards along various walls of the home.

The plantlife in the backyard is even more sprawling and dense, with the home having a hedge-style garden. Without the proper maintenance, however, this too has fallen into disarray. Various flowering bushes, and flowers that sprout up from the earth, have gone wild and rampant. The backyard is dotted with pops of all the colors one could imagine. More sturdier fencing can be found here, made of iron and metal, though the harsh Sinnohan elements have caused it to slowly be taken by rust.

One of the most dazzling aspects besides the overgrown garden is a full tile pool, also taken by time. The cover over the pool became heavy with foliage and leaves that fell, however it kept the tile protected. The sight of grime, dirt, and mud in the emptied pool itself is unmistakable, but the tiles used to build the pool originally in the late 1940's has avoided being cracked or shattered. The caulking has worn away in some areas, but the pool itself is in shockingly good condition. A matching hot tub rest not far from the pool, though unfortunately, it is in much worse shape than the pool is itself. Some of the tiles in the hot tub have been cracked and completely shattered, and the same grime and dirt can be seen, similar to the pool.

The interior - First floor

Inside of the Old Chateau is where a lot of the wear and age becomes much more apparent, if the outside wasn't enough of a tell. The main foyer is grandiose in scale, given it was the first room guests would see upon entering - it certainly didn't fail to impress. A large, elegant chandelier still hangs over the center of the foyer, covered in thick dust. Strikingly, it is made entirely of glass and steel. When it was powered properly, various colors of light were thrown iridescently across the entrance.

The doorway that rests immediately in front of the main entry leads to the dining room. A large table takes up the bulk of the room, easily able to seat a dozen guests comfortably. An old and tattered tablecloth rests over the cedar wood dining table, with heavy steel candelabra situated at various points at the table. A smaller, but still equally as impressive chandelier rests over the table - similar to the one in the main entry on a smaller scale.

The kitchen of the home lay to the left of the dining room, boasting two large refrigerators, a large, full sink, and two stovetop ovens. The entryway to a large, walk-in pantry is also present, full of shelving to house various foods and other goods, along with cabinetry to house pots, pans, dishware, silverware, and other smaller appliances.

The interior - Second floor

Two grand staircases wind upwards to the second floor, with tattered red running carpets, lined and edged with gold, resting on the tile flooring. The room on the left side after the accompanying staircase is a room that fell into complete disrepair. Part of the roof on this side of the home had fallen in, and a lot of the interior is damaged entirely. It's hard to tell what this room may have been used for in the past, as various odds and ends is strewn about, along with parts of the ceiling and roofing tiles.

The room on the right is a grand library, with dozens of bookshelves lining the walls. A large, arched window faces out towards the forest, bringing in a peaceful atmosphere for reading or studying alike. A fireplace rests against one of the walls. The room is complete with a set of plush, comfortable furniture (that, like the rest of the home, is in need of care and love), a large rug, and a desk. Dust-covered paintings hang on the wall, depicting portraits of people no longer living.

The doorway at the back of the upper hall leads to another long corridor, this one housing all of the rooms at the manor. The same red running carpet found in other parts of the mansion is seen along the hall upstairs as well. Large, arched windows flank either end of the hall, and lamps cling to the wall between each room for additional lighting.

There's a total of three bedrooms, one of which being the master bedrooms, an empty, windowless room, and a room that operates as the 'living room', along with a standalone bathroom for guests not staying overnight.

The first two bedrooms are large in size, each with their own connected bathrooms complete with a full tub, shower attachment, basin, and toilet. Each room also has a large and spacious window overlooking the pool and back garden of the manor. Like the rest of the house, there's also cedar furnishings within in the form

The master bedroom, of course, is about double the size of the normal bedrooms. Old cedar furniture makes its home in the spacious room, all part of a matching set complete with a vanity and stool, dresser, and two bedside tables flanking each side of the bed. The master boasts two large windows overlooking the back garden and courtyard, along with the pool and a sea of cedar trees.

The master bathroom is equally as impressive, hosting its own bathing room with its own window. A large, clawfoot tub rests by the window for an immaculate view, complete with its own shower attachment similar to the other two bedrooms. There's a drain in the middle of the tile, catching any water that isn't contained to the tub and giving the user more of a traditional Sinnohan bathing experience. Separate from the bathing room is a dual set of sinks with a large mirror in front, and another separate room for the toilet.

The other two rooms are more minor, with the living room housing a classical black and white television, a fireplace (with this room being central, and the fireplaces being the only method of heating the mansion), and a matching set of plush red and cedar furniture with that of the library. Similar to all of the other rooms in the house, there's a duo of large arched windows overlooking the backyard. The other room is entirely void and empty, and is the only room in the house that has no windows of any kind. There is a light fixture, but the bulb has been blown out rendering it useless. Oddly enough as well, the door locks from the outside, with no way to lock it from the inside.

#👻 headcanon. #👻 worldbuilding. #👻 old chateau. #i didnt want to go into too much detail on some of the disrepair so i can go over the problems that need fixing in another hc post #so it sounds a LOT nicer than it actually is lmao. make no mistake everything is run down and covered in 5 inches of dust #anyone with allergies entering this mansion gets obliterated. i would not last a second.

[6797968625078]

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[roman-writing]

bring home a haunting (4/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 20,133

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

It was well and truly autumn. The air had a bite to it and the ground crinkled with every footstep. Everything had lost its vibrant edge and had become brown and wet and stagnant. Nothing but mud and rain and fresh crops on the produce shelves in the grocery store. The nights grew longer and the days shorter, and winter would be fast upon them.

In other words, Dani's least favorite time of year. She had long come to the conclusion that she was not built for the cold. Even now, sky overcast and gloomy, struck through with bared tree branches like black lightning, she wore a thick coat, scarf, and hat. Her boots were splattered with mud from the walk, and she would occasionally admire the way her breath steamed in the air like a cloud with every exhalation. Meanwhile, Jamie wore nothing more than a woollen jumper over her usual t-shirt and jean ensemble. Her scuffed and battered shoes looked even more worse for wear with a layer of caked dirt all up the soles.

They were digging through the illegal dump found midway down the abandoned rail line, affectionately called 'Mount Tire' by the locals. Dani had heard her mother complain about it along with other townsfolk at the annual general meeting of the Council, as though it were a dark mark on the face of the town rather than a treasure trove of objects that otherwise might have gone without a home.

From further along, Jamie made a triumphant noise, and Dani lifted her head.

"Did you find something?" Dani asked.

Jamie's reply was a series of grunts and the sound of something clattering. Dani wandered over to find her brushing off an unearthed bicycle that had seen better days.

Jamie held it propped up with both hands while she inspected it with a critical eye. "I can fix this," she said.

Dani's eyebrows rose and she gave the bike a dubious once over. "It's missing a seat."

Jamie made a dismissive sound while she crouched down to test the chain. "Damn," she swore. "This'll need replacing. Spokes are fine though. And it all looks like surface rust to me. I can fix it."

"Again," said Dani, pointing out the obvious. "There's no seat."

"Always such a Debbie downer," Jamie said even as she aimed a grin at Dani over her shoulder. She straightened. "C'mon. Let's go down to the petrol station."

"What for?" Dani asked, following along beside Jamie as she guided the bicycle with her hands, rolling it along down to the train tracks.

"Tires are flat," Jamie said, tapping one of said tires with the toe of her shoe for good measure. "Tread's fine, though. They've got free air down at the station, and I want to see how bad the damage is."

It was miles away to the gas station, but Dani didn't mind. Not when it was with Jamie. Not when their Saturday was free and they could spend their time aimlessly chatting about everything and nothing in particular. They were still talking and laughing when they arrived at the station, the bike ticking like a clock with every rotation of its old wheels.

Jamie propped the bike against the wall outside before they went in. The owner, Mr. Thompson, was wearing a baseball cap and reading a magazine inside. His head lifted when the bell attached to the door rang, but as he saw who it was that entered — not a customer, just a few kids — he swiftly lost interest. His gaze dropped back down to the magazine on the counter.

"Afternoon, Mr. Thompson," Dani greeted with a little wave.

He grunted a wordless reply, then said, "I don't do candy discounts."

Beside her, Jamie bristled. "We're not that young."

As he flicked to another page — some sort of automobile magazine with shiny cars and motorcycles splashed across it — his eyes moved up to them with a lazy sort of indifference. "You really are, kid."

There was a determined set to Jamie's jaw as she approached the counter and placed her hands on it. "I want to use your air pump outside."

"It's free, isn't it?" he said, his attention firmly back on the magazine. "Don't need to tell me you're going to use it. Just use it."

"I also want to buy some stuff to fix up a bicycle. Tire repair kit. New chain," Jamie ticked off items on her fingers. "Do you have anything that'll help clean up rust?"

Mr. Thompson was watching her now, cheek resting on one fist. "Matter of fact, I do."

"And I want to use your tools out back."

His eyebrows rose and he blinked slowly at her. "You got money to back up that mouth of yours, Miss Taylor?"

Jamie dug her hands into her pockets and pulled out a few crumpled up bills and spare bits of change. She slapped them onto the countertop. Mr. Thompson glanced down. "That's enough for a new chain and none of the others. Sorry, kid. Come back when you have more."

Slowly, Jamie deflated. She began to drag the money back into her hands from the table, but Dani stepped up beside her, rising up on her toes to better be seen. "Excuse me?"

Both of them turned to look at her.

Clearing her throat, Dani forged on. "Can we pay in something other than cash?"

Mr. Thompson's brow crinkled. Somehow he still managed to look bored despite it. "Like what?"

"Well, no offense, Mr. Thompson, but your shop -" Dani gestured around them, "- is kind of a mess. How about we clean it? Windows. Floors. Or -" she said hurriedly as he leaned back, "- we can operate the pump for anyone who comes around? That's -? That's worth something? Right?"

Glancing around the shop, he tipped back his baseball cap with the knuckle of one finger, then swiped at his nose with a thoughtful sniff. Jamie opened her mouth to say something, but Dani stood on her foot and surreptitiously shook her head. Jamie scowled but closed her mouth and kept silent. 

Finally, he waved towards the door that led to the little warehouse and service shop out back. "Brooms and cleaning equipment is back there. And for God's sake don't touch the pumps. Last thing I need is you two spilling gas all over the road."

The effect was immediate. Jamie's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and she began tugging Dani towards the back room, saying, "I get the windows! I'm taller!"

"Hey!" Dani complained, but grudgingly accepted mop duties when push came to shove.

It was slow work, with very few customers to interrupt the boredom. Jamie made a game of pulling faces at Dani through the glass as she cleaned the windows from outside. Dani laughed and would pretend to descend down stairs as she walked. Mr. Thompson kept an eye on them from behind the counter, shaking his head and flipping through his magazine with a mutter under his breath, "Kids."

When a car eventually did roll up to one of the pump stations, Mr. Thompson straightened in his seat. Dani and Jamie were just about finished cleaning when Judy stepped out of her car and saw them. She hesitated, cocking her head curiously, before striding inside. As she opened the door, she kept it propped open with her hip and lifted her sunglasses so that they were perched atop her head.

"What on earth are you two doing?" she asked, looking between Jamie and Dani.

"Trading," said Dani.

"For bicycle parts," Jamie added, and she gestured with a rag towards the old bicycle leaning against the wall.

Judy aimed a questioning look at Mr. Thompson. "That right, Hunter?"

If anything, he looked a bit bashful. "Place needed cleaning, and they don't have money," he grumbled. "Didn't think there was any harm in it."

With a shrug, Judy said, "All right, then. If everyone's happy, then I'm happy. Can I get this filled up?" She pointed to her sedan. "Should only be half a tank, but I'm driving to Cedar Rapids to visit my sister tomorrow."

"Sure thing," Mr. Thompson said. He rose from his seat and ambled out to fill up the car.

Judy kept the door open for him and remained standing in the doorway. She crossed her arms. "And what are your plans for Christmas this year?" she asked Jamie.

Jamie lifted a spray bottle and squeezed some solution onto the window before wiping at the glass with the rag. "Dunno," she answered. "Same as last year. Home with Nan."

"Well, Dani's coming over to my place with her mom," Judy said, nodding towards Dani in question, who listened with a keen ear. "Why don't you and Ruth come over like you did for Thanksgiving? We usually open presents in the morning and have a big lunch."

"Oh, uh -" Jamie hesitated. She glanced through the glass at Dani, who was nodding furiously and all but bouncing on the balls of her feet. Even then, Jamie's expression was unsure. "I'll have to talk to Nan about it."

"Well, you tell Ruth to give me a call, all right?"

Jamie nodded and mumbled something that was too muffled through the glass for Dani to hear properly. Whatever it was made Judy laugh. "Oh, you're going to be trouble one day, Missy," Judy said with a good-natured chuckle.

Jamie’s only response was an impish grin.

When Mr. Thompson had finished refuelling Judy’s car, Judy approached the register to pay. As she pulled out a few bills from her wallet and handed them over, she said, “You know, you should hire the Jones’ boy. Stanley? I hear he’s looking for part time work.” 

Mr. Thompson took the money and punched in a few buttons on the register to get her change. “Shop’s fine.”

Judy took the change with a shrug. “If you say so.” And on her way out, she paused, door held open. “Don’t work them too hard, Hunter. I’ll see you girls later.”

After her car had pulled away from the station and they were left alone with Mr. Thompson once more, Dani and Jamie turned to look at him. He had returned to his place ensconced behind the till, magazine open on the countertop, hiding behind a row of confectionaries and chewing gum. When he felt their eyes upon him, he went very still, hand frozen in place as he turned the page of a new magazine. 

Sighing, he jerked his thumb to indicate the wall behind him. “Tools are in the back. Don’t hurt yourself. Especially you.” He jabbed his finger in Jamie’s direction. “Your grandmother puts the fear of God in me.”

 --

The news of it spread like wildfire across the school the moment it happened. A fight in the east wing. 

Dani and Eddie were already on their way there in search of Carson and Jamie who were late to lunch, when other students rushed past them shouting back the news. The pair exchanged a worried glance before taking off, following the clamor around the corner to where a group of kids were shouting and cheering on at a pile of indistinguishable bodies scuffling on the floor, swinging and pulling violently on each other. 

Dani’s stomach dropped, and immediately cast her eyes around in search of Jamie, worrying at her lower lip when she couldn’t spot her in the crowd. In that same moment, a group of teachers came rushing through. 

“All right, all right, settle down!” Mr. Roberts shouted, pushing his way through the crowd and pulling apart the wrestling bodies with the help of the art teacher, Mr. Keller. 

When Mr. Roberts pulled up the recognizable form of a disheveled Jamie, breathing heavy, her nose bleeding, and a righteous fury burning in her eyes that Dani hadn’t seen since that day in the back alley, Dani sucked in a sharp breath. 

Eddie sighed exasperatedly. “Again?”

“Nan’s gonna kill her,” Dani murmured, frowning in concern. When Jamie wiped at the blood pooling from her nose down to her mouth and chin with the sleeve of her shirt, wincing as she smeared it over her face, Dani winced along with her. 

It didn’t make any sense. No one had bothered Jamie since the first year she arrived at North Liberty after her fight with Roger in the stairwell. The knowledge that Jamie was perfectly capable of defending herself, and fought like a caged beast when cornered had grown widespread across the school. Dani knew. She’d seen Jamie fearlessly tackle one of the twins during a playfight session at the river where, at the time, Tommy had already stood well over a foot taller than Jamie. 

Dani took a step forward, scanning the pile of students being pulled to their feet to see who was responsible. A hand grasped her arm, pulling her to a stop. 

“Danielle,” Eddie hissed. 

Dani almost spun around to glare at him, but her eyes unexpectedly caught Jamie’s. Jamie’s eyes darted pointedly to a corner in the hallway before catching Dani’s again. Dani frowned, but Jamie only responded by pressing her mouth into a thin line and jerking her head towards the same direction, slowly being pulled away by the arm down the hall. 

With one last grimace of a smile, Dani watched her go as another teacher began dispersing the crowd. When Jamie turned a corner, Dani finally exhaled, her shoulders dropping from where they had bunched up, and she scanned the direction of the hallway where Jamie gestured towards. Stepping towards it, she was once again tugged to a stop. She looked down at her hand where Eddie’s had at some point slinked down from her forearm to her hand, holding it in a loose grip. Dani darted her eyes up at him to see that he wasn’t even paying attention, still frowning uncomfortably at the laughing kids who still loitered the hallway. 

Dani huffed. “Eddie.” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I have my hand back?”

He turned to blink blankly at her, and then down at their clasped hands. “Oh,” he said, snatching his hand away, his cheeks turning pink. “Sorry.”

Dani sighed, and returned to scanning the hallway, stepping further through groups of her classmates, until she spotted a familiar figure on the ground, curled up and trembling against the lockers with their head buried in their arms. 

Dani gasped. “Carson!” She rushed towards him, kneeling on the dusty floor and pressed a hand to his shoulder, “Carson, are you okay?”

He flinched away, head jerking up to stare at her with wide watery eyes. He relaxed when he saw it was just Dani, his face crumpling in relief as he nodded and wiped his cheeks. 

Eddie kneeled on the other side of him, eyes fearful. “Are you sure? What happened?”

Risking a glance around them, there were still students being ushered away, some even staring and snickering in their direction. Dani’s stare hardened into a scowl. “Not here,” she said, pushing to her feet, holding out a hand for Carson, “Let’s go outside.”

With downcast eyes, Carson took her hand for her to help pull him up and didn’t let go as she guided both boys outside to their usual spot along the brick walls. They huddled together in a circle with their lunch bags in their laps. 

“Well?” Eddie said, his knee bouncing, wearing a worried frown. “What happened?” Carson sighed and didn’t answer. “Are you in trouble?”

“No,” Carson said, then twisted his face. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean you don’t think so? It’s a yes or no question.”

“Eddie,” Dani said, and his mouth promptly snapped shut, looking sheepish. Shaking her head, Dani returned her gaze back at Carson, the youngest O’Mara looking so unusually despondent. She shifted a little closer to him, their knees knocking together, rested a hand on his back and said softly, “It’s okay, you can tell us.”

Carson sighed again, and after a moment, he finally said, “You remember those guys I told you about?”

Dani’s heart sank, knowing immediately what he was referring to. She caught Eddie’s eyes and saw the realization slowly hit him, his face pulling into a grimace. It was only the natural state of things, when Tommy and David graduated from elementary school to the golden gates of high school, for opportunities to arise on the pecking order. With the twins gone, they had taken with them a safety net that had left their little group in peace for the past few years, and out of all of them, the ire of a particular group of the student body had zeroed in on Carson. 

“What did they do?” Dani asked. 

Carson shrugged morosely. “Calling me names again. Shoving me. Whatever.” 

“But why was Jamie there?” Eddie asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

“She walks with me to lunch sometimes,” Carson said. 

Slowly, Dani softened, recalling all those moments in the past month where Jamie would rush off after the lunch bell rang, claiming to need the washroom, and arriving later at the lunchroom with Carson by her side.

The rest of the story came out of Carson gradually. Jamie not being there on time to accompany Carson to lunch. Being cornered by a group of boys in the hall, and by the time they were shoving Carson and getting aggressive, Jamie jumped into the fray. 

“And she just -!” Carson’s eyes by now were wide and fervent, “She came out of nowhere and told them to the piss off!”

“Please don’t say that in front of mom,” Eddie groaned. 

“And then, I don’t know, someone started shoving again, and suddenly they were just all fighting,” Carson said, taking a wild bite of his sandwich that he had pulled out in the middle of the story, “Oh! And then Roger jumped in — “

“Roger?” Dani and Eddie blurted in unison.

Swallowing hard, Dani leaned forward with a worried frown, “Was - was he fighting Jamie, too?”

The thought of Jamie taking on not just three, but four boys by herself sent her heart crashing, but Carson was already shaking his head before Dani even finished the question. “No! He was helping her!”

Dani blinked. Roger Simmons helping Jamie in a school fight. Maybe pigs really did fly. 

As Carson’s story began to wind down to what Dani and Eddie already knew, Dani sobered, biting at her thumb. “I think you should go to the principal and tell them what happened.”

Eddie frowned. “Why?”

“Because he was there and the fight started because they were bullying him in the first place!” 

Shifting on the concrete, Eddie hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know. It might make things worse.”

Dani huffed. “How?” 

At Eddie’s noncommittal shrug, Carson shrank back, his eyes darting between Dani and Eddie before landing back on Dani. “I didn’t mean to get Jamie in trouble, I swear,” he mumbled.

Dani sighed and grasped his hand. “You didn’t,” she said, “Jamie knew what she was getting into. But if we go to the principal’s office now and tell them what happened, she might be in less trouble if they knew she was defending you and herself.”

Nodding eagerly, Carson was already haphazardly packing away the rest of his lunch and pushing to his feet. Dani almost smiled as she followed him to stand, but the tight lines of Eddie’s mouth stopped her. 

They retreated back inside and towards the school office in silence. When they arrived, Dani immediately scanned the room for Jamie, but there was no sign of her and the office was empty. She eyed Principal Davis’ office, her brow knitted as they stepped towards Ms. Reeves. 

After a short conversation with Ms. Reeves, Carson was guided towards the principal’s office with Ms. Reeves' hand on his back. Dani balled her hand into fists and bit her lip as she watched him, his shoulders bunched and his head bowed. Beside her, Eddie was anxiously bouncing on his toes, before abruptly blurting out, “Wait - uh. Ms. Reeves?” At the sound of her name, Ms. Reeves glanced back. Eddie stood up straight, pushing his shoulders back, and said, “Can we come with him?”

Ms. Reeves sighed and gave them a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey, but no,” she said,

“But he’s my brother.”

Ms. Reeves gestured towards the bench. “You can wait here for the rest of lunch if you’d like, but I’m afraid unless you have something important to add, you can’t go in.”

Both Dani and Eddie deflated, giving Carson one last grim smile and thumbs up that he returned with a small wave. When Ms. Reeves knocked and opened the principal’s door, Dani craned her neck for any sightings of Jamie, but all she could see were the backs of chairs populated by boys, and a stone faced Principal Davis. Carson was guided inside, and then the door was shut with a thud of finality. 

Giving them one last pointed look, Ms. Reeves gestured towards the bench before retreating back to her desk, picking up the phone with a sigh. 

There was nothing more to be done except to take a seat and wait, pretending like they couldn’t hear Ms. Reeves explaining to parents that they needed to come down to the school. Dani winced, a pool of dread whirling in her stomach for the oncoming hurricane of Nan. They snacked on the remains of their lunch as they waited silently. 

When ten minutes had passed, and Carson still hadn’t made a reappearance, Eddie sighed anxiously. “He’s okay, right?”

Dani almost didn’t hear him, absentmindedly snacking on peanuts as she stared at the principal’s office door. “Yeah, if Jamie’s there, of course he is,” Dani replied. 

“God, mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?” Dani finally pulled her eyes away to frown at him.

“‘Cause I didn’t watch out for him like Tommy and David,” he said, bouncing his knee, staring at the floor, his face distressed. “Or like you and Jamie.”

Dani’s shoulders dropped and she reached out to grasp his hand, easing it out of its clenched fist to clasp their palms together. “It’s not your fault,” she said, “There was nothing we could’ve done. Jamie was just lucky to be there at the right time today.”

Eddie huffed, his mouth twisting, still visibly concerned and displeased. Dani didn’t know what else to say, she opened her mouth, hoping to find the words to comfort him, but the distinct ominous sound of a tapping cane stopped her. At the sight of a scowling Nan marching in the office, the first to arrive as if the wrath of God had lit a fire under her, Dani immediately shot upright, pulling her hand from Eddie to stand. 

Nan’s mouth thinned when she caught sight of her. She tisked, tapped Dani on the ankle with her cane, and said, “Sit.” Dani did as she was told, biting her lip as Nan stared at her, and then said, “Well? Where is the little shite?”

Swallowing hard, Dani pointed towards Principal Davis’ office. “Already in there,” she murmured. 

With a grunt, Nan didn’t even bother checking in with Ms. Reeves. She marched towards the door and knocked hard on it with her cane. “Harvey Davis, open this door before I break it open.”

The door swung open to reveal Principal Davis wearing a grim smile, just short of paling. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Heron, thank you for — “

“Shut it, and let’s get this over with,” Nan said, pushing past him in the room. Principal Davis exhaled and shut the door. 

Lunch passed quickly after that, a few other parents arrived but there was still no reappearance of Carson or either one of Eddie’s parents yet. They unwillingly shuffled off back to class where they waited out the rest of their day anxiously. Eddie was only able to finally relax when he received a note from the office telling him that Carson was taken home early by their dad, his head thunking on his desk with a loud sigh of relief. Dani chuckled at him, but she still felt worry pulling at her stomach. By the time the final bell rang, Jamie hadn’t returned to class at all, not even for the few things still remaining atop her desk. Dani took it upon herself to gather it all up and stuff them in her locker, careful to keep any loose pages wrinkle free. 

When they were outside, free from school for the weekend, walking towards the beige car that was already waiting for them by the curb a little ways down the street, Eddie looked to her with an eager expression. “Hey, do you want to sleep over this weekend? David and Tommy promised to play Dungeons and Dragons with us.”

Dani’s face twisted. “To play what?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you ages ago. You said you’d play with us.”

“Oh, I - I wanted to go to Jamie’s to see if she’s okay,” she said, grimacing, and then added, “I was gonna sleep over.”

Eddie’s face fell. “But you promised.”

Dani did remember promising, absentmindedly nodding along to the idea in the O’Mara’s basement where they had all congregated around the tv to watch the latest animated Robin Hood movie, snickering quietly to Jamie’s commentary. 

“I know,” Dani said, “I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “She’s probably fine.”

“She was bleeding everywhere!”

“So? She gets hurt like every other week, it’s nothing special,” he said, scowling at the ground. 

Dani grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop, her mouth thinned. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” she said, “I promise we can hang out soon, but Jamie’s my best friend, I can’t just not see if she’s okay.”

“I’m your best friend, too,” Eddie shot back, his face flushed and his eyes bright, and then froze, ducking his head with a timid expression, and murmured, “I just wanted to hang out.” 

Dani’s heart sank. She didn’t know what else to do or to say. She squeezed at his arm that she still held and moved to slip her hand down to his, but he pulled away with a huff. 

“It’s fine, just forget it,” he said, and continued towards the car. 

She followed after him. “Eddie,” she called out, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said, resignation in his voice, not looking at her. 

Quietly, Dani worried at her lower lip and followed Eddie into the car where Mike was waiting for them. They settled into the backseat and buckled up, both visibly troubled that Mike twisted in his seat to give them an awkward consoling grin. “Hard day, huh?” Mike said, eyes darting between them. “Don’t you kids worry. Carson’s doing all right.” 

When they both silently nodded, Mike’s gaze landed on Dani. While for the most part, Dani and Mike rarely spoke more than five minutes at a time with each other, he was still always a kind and welcoming man. He gave her a tight grin and a nod. “Jamie, too. I think. Lord knows with that grandmother of hers. Never seen Davis turn that color before.” 

Dani breathed out a chuckle. 

“Ah, there it is,” he said, shaking a finger at her, “Knew that was hidden there somewhere.”

Dani ducked her head as Mike twisted back around in his seat to start the engine. As they took off down the street, Dani risked a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye to see him already staring at her. When she caught his eyes, he spun his head away sharply. Dani rolled her eyes and nudged at his feet with her own. When he didn’t respond she did it again, knocking it hard enough that there was an audible thud. He sighed and gave her a look that she returned with a grin. He huffed and turned back to the window, but Dani could still see his smile in the slant of his profile. 

When they arrived home, Eddie was the first to offer a murmured goodbye once they got out of the car. Seeing the peace offering for what it was, Dani hugged him tight and said, “I really am sorry.”

“I know,” he murmured, a dejected slump to his shoulders, before pulling away and starting towards the front door of his house where Mike was already shuffling inside. 

With the O’Mara’s front door shut, Dani was off like a shot towards her own house. Unlocking the door with her keys and shoving her way into the empty house to rush upstairs to her room and pack. 

 --

Nan gave her a withering stare when she finally opened the door to Dani’s insistent knocking. Lungs just short of burning from speed walking to the white bungalow, Dani almost shrank back when Nan arched an eyebrow, but she stood her ground and gave Nan a hesitant grin.

Breathing out sharply through her nose in what bizarrely sounded like laugh, Nan shook her head and dryly said, “Took your sweet time, did you?”

“Um.”

Nan huffed, and jerked her head towards the house. “Well, get inside. I’ve got a pot brewing already,” she said, disappearing back into the house. “And take your bloody inhaler before you pass out on my floor.”

Dani did as she was told, shuffling inside and shutting the door behind her to peel off her shoes and coat. She could hear Nan moving around in the kitchen, porcelain cups and plates clinking as Dani quickly took a puff from her inhaler, feeling better already as she stuffed it back in her bag and followed the sounds. 

Nan was already setting the table with three sets of cups and a blue tin that Dani knew held Nan’s coveted cookies, the old rickety table wobbling with every gentle movement due to its uneven legs. Dani dropped her bag in the corner of the kitchen as she scanned the rooms, not finding Jamie anywhere. “Where is she?” she asked quietly. 

“Out back working on that mess of a bike,” Nan said. 

Dani eagerly turned to make her way to the door leading to the backyard, but jerked to a stop when Nan held up the length of her cane to Dani’s stomach. She darted her eyes up towards Nan, blinking in surprise. Nan’s mouth thinned and she jerked her head to the table. “Sit,” she said in a tone of voice that brooked no room for argument.

Feeling her stomach sink, Dani spared a glance towards the back door, and followed Nan to the table, sitting opposite where she stood, stiff in her seat and her hands balled into fists in her lap. “Is she grounded?” Dani carefully asked. 

“Aye, she is,” Nan said, busy making a single cup of tea and setting up a saucer of what Dani recognized were Jamie’s favorite cookies. 

Dani waited for a moment before asking, “How long?”

“As long she needs to be,” Nan sharply replied. 

Dani sank back into her seat, biting her lip, watching as Nan set the cup of tea and saucer of cookies onto a small tray before sliding over an empty cup towards Dani. “Make your tea,” she said, her eyes so piercing that Dani slowly sat back up and reached for the pot. Nan nodded once and gathered the tray in her hand. “Wait here,” she said, and started towards the back screen door.

Straining her ears towards the backyard, Dani made her tea as silently as she could, hearing the tap of Nan’s cane and the whooshing sound of the door being pulled open, letting in a cool draft. But when all she could hear from the pair outside were muffled voices, words indistinguishable and muted, Dani huffed. For a moment, she strongly considered sneaking closer, taking advantage of her socked feet sliding against the floor, but the fear of getting caught kept her rooted to her chair.

The muffled voices abruptly grew louder. “But that’s not fair!” Jamie whined. 

“You don’t see me complaining about missing half a day’s paycheck, do you?” Nan retorted, “You sit out here, have your cuppa and biscuits, and keep your hands busy or so help me God.”

“But —”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, girl. It’s not the end of the world,” Nan said, and stomped back inside, closing the screen door shut with a hard thud. 

Wincing in sympathy, Dani could easily picture the indignant glower on Jamie’s face, her cheeks flushed and her brows deeply furrowed. 

Nan returned with a scowl, sitting in her seat opposite Dani and resting her cane on the table that wobbled slightly at the movement. Holding her cup in her hands, letting the heat warm her skin, Dani sat quietly as Nan made her own cup of tea, not knowing where to start. It wasn’t that Nan was that terribly difficult to talk to, with her shrewd eyes, endless tales of her time during both World Wars, the spite that kept her going, and a sixth sense for whenever Dani and Jamie somehow managed to find themselves doing something they shouldn't, but well — she was difficult to talk to. 

Shoving the tin of cookies towards Dani, Nan gave her a sharp look and said, “Before you get ahead of yourself, I’ve already heard the sorry tale of it.”

Dani paused, and then reached into the tin for a Jammie Dodger. “So you know it’s not her fault?” Dani tried, blinking her eyes innocently, taking a small bite of the cookie, “That she was defending herself?”

Nan snorted, pointing at her with a cookie. “Don’t try that look with me,” she said, “It may work on Judy, but it sure as hell won’t work on me.” Dani ducked her head and took a morose sip of her tea. Nan continued, “I know she was defending the O’Mara boy. But she broke her promise. Got into another fight. Got into trouble. Sure, she helped the boy, but she got nothing for it except a week's worth of detention and the threat of suspension. Again.”

Dani shrank further back in her seat, her frown deepening as she let the words sink in and ate her cookie, and finally said, “But she did though. Get something out of it, that is.” 

She looked up and caught Nan’s eye, expression unchanged save for the arch of an eyebrow. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What she wanted to say — that Jamie proved how much she cared, that Jamie earned a wealth of loyalty that Dani witnessed bloom in Carson’s eyes that she hadn’t seen before — all of it seemed to lodge itself in the back of her throat. Instead, she needed Nan to know the truth of it, she needed Nan to see Jamie for who she was, the importance of it pressing on her chest. 

“Jamie’s a good person,” Dani finally murmured. 

Nan’s mouth pulled tight. “Well, of course she is,” she said sharply, “She may be a bleeding pain in my arse, but she’s a far sight better than her mother and her knob of a father.”

Dani blinked. Taken aback at not only Nan’s irritation, as if annoyed that Dani reminded her of something that should’ve been obvious, but at the mention of Jamie’s parents. Parents who Jamie had never once mentioned before besides that one time during Dani’s birthday. Always shrugging off questions and changing the subject when mention of them were brought up. It felt strange, discussing something so deeply personal about Jamie, something that Jamie seemed to avoid at all costs, when she was only a few feet away out of hearing range. Dani chanced a glance behind her to where the screen door would be, fearing that any second Jamie might crack and stomp back inside. 

“Doesn’t talk much about them, does she?” Nan said, pulling back Dani’s attention. At Nan’s questioning stare, Dani quietly shook her head. Nan hummed, and then she too shook her head, leaning forward on the table, ignoring the way it shifted again, the pull of her stare so acute that Dani couldn’t blink or turn away.

“Now, you listen here. I’ll tell you exactly what I told her,” Nan said, ”She did a good thing, truly. But she went about it the wrong way, you see. There are more ways to go about things than with the end of your fist. I won’t tolerate it. Not in this house. Not again. Nothing good will ever come of it if she keeps it up. Do you understand?”

Dani was quiet for a long moment, absorbing the words, and then nodded. 

“Good,” Nan said, leaning back and taking a sip of her tea. “Figured as much. Lord knows the girl was as wild as the wind blew back in England. But ever since coming here and meeting you, she’s been mellowing in her own way, so I suppose…I suppose I should offer you my thanks for your bit in it.”

Dani’s eyes widened, a hot flush warming her cheeks and spreading across her chest. It wasn’t often Nan handed out such free praise or thanks. A pleased thrill ran down Dani’s spine, and the corners of her mouth curled into a shy smile that she hid behind her cup as she finished her tea.

Tisking, Nan took a healthy bite of a cookie. “Don’t let that get to your head. And don’t expect me to ever say that again. You both still drive me mad,” she said, and after a moment, she sighed. “And I reckon you should be getting home now before it gets too dark. Last thing I need is your mother over here.”

“Oh,” Dani murmured, and then finding her courage, she added, “Could you —  um. Could you not tell Jamie that I was here, then? I just — I don’t think she’d be happy that I was here, and she didn’t get to see me.”

Nan harrumphed. “Would serve her right,” she said with a displeased twist to her mouth.

“Please?”

Nan watched her for a long moment, expression blank save for a squared jaw, and said, “I’ll think about it.”

Dani’s mouth dared to pull into a grin. Nan huffed and stood, moving to gather her cup. Seeing this, Dani rushed out of her seat to help, gathering both her own and Nan’s cup to set in the sink. 

“Buttering me up now, eh?” Nan said, a hand on her cane and the other on her hip. When Dani merely grinned and shrugged, Nan shook her head and then abruptly paused, her eyes scrutinizing. “Did you walk all the way here?”

Nodding, Dani ducked her eyes away from the intensity of Nan’s gaze. Nan hummed again, made a gesture towards the front door and simply said, “Get your things.”

While Nan disappeared somewhere deeper in the house where the bedrooms were, Dani gathered one last cookie, her bag, and slipped back on her shoes and coat. As she waited by the door, itching to see Jamie just once before she left, Nan reappeared wearing a thick coat. Dani offered her arm for Nan to hold as she pushed her feet into a pair of boots and spared one last glance towards the back of the house, letting Nan guide her outside.

The drive home was silent between the pair, the cabin quiet besides the rickety rumble of Nan’s truck and the radio on low playing some oldies station. When Nan pulled up to Dani’s house, the skyline pink and purple in the evening twilight, she turned to thank Nan only to find her scowling towards her home. Frowning, Dani followed Nan’s gaze to look it over, seeing nothing amiss. An empty driveway, a neat lawn, porch lights off. 

“You got something to eat for dinner?” Nan abruptly asked.

Dani caught her eyes again and shrugged, vaguely recalling leftovers in the fridge. Peanut butter and bread in the cupboard. “I think so, yeah.”

“Best pop over to Judy’s then.”

Her eyes drifted away to the O’Mara’s house, recalling Eddie’s dejected face. A spark of hope lit inside her. Maybe there was still time to turn things around. Turning back to Nan, Dani nodded, and said, “Thank you for tea. And the ride home.”

Nan grunted in response, and just as Dani unbuckled her seat belt and moved to open the door, Nan’s voice stopped her. “Dani,” she said, her voice demanding attention. Dani paused as Nan gave her a look, knowing and firm. “Two days. Then you’ll see her.”

Dani nodded faintly. Two days. Two days without Jamie. An entire weekend. Almost a lifetime really. Not once in the past two years could Dani recall going more than a day without talking to or seeing Jamie. The idea of it felt almost like cutting off a limb. 

“Two days,” Dani repeated, nodding again. She could manage that, she thought, resignation settling heavy on her shoulders. What could be worse than two days?

 --

The moment Dani saw Jamie stepping foot back on the school grounds the following Monday morning, Dani nearly took her off her feet in a running hug. Jamie grunted upon impact, forced back a foot or two. 

“Ow, fuck.” 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Dani said, starting to remove her arms from around Jamie’s shoulders, but Jamie just laughed, pulling her back into the hug. 

“Missed you too,” Jamie said, a smile in her voice.

They stood there hugging for a good minute, giggling as they roughly rocked each other back and forth, as if they hadn’t seen each other for years instead of two days. 

“Okay, okay, let me see,” Dani finally said, pulling away to rest her hands on Jamie’s shoulders, getting a good look at her face. Jamie sighed and rolled her eyes under the scrutiny, but sure enough, her face was a discolored mess. The skin around her left eye was bruised purple and red, looking tender to the touch, and her cheek and jaw were mottled a dark purple. Dani winced and said, “You look worse than you did last time.”

“What? You don’t think it brings out the color of my eyes?”

Dani snorted and shoved her by the shoulders. Jamie allowed herself to rock back with a good-natured grin.

“Least my nose didn’t break, thank god,” Jamie said, gently prodding the bridge of her nose, knuckles also discolored, then grimaced. “Though one wanker did manage to get a grip on my braid. Felt like my scalp was gonna rip off. Had a headache all weekend.”

Dani winced again, leaning closer to get a better look, and then gently poked at her bruised cheek. At the slight touch, Jamie jerked back as though Dani had struck her. “Ow! Christ, what’s wrong with you?” she said, though there was a teasing glint in her eyes. 

Biting back a laugh, Dani poked her again, this time in the chest. “You don’t get to do that again,” she said, sobering. 

“Or what? You gonna call the sheriff on me?”

“No,” Dani said hotly, “You just — you scared me. And I’m pretty sure Nan will lock you away forever next time, so please don’t.”

Jamie’s face blanched, and then shook her head, scowling. “That old nag has it out for me, I swear.”

“She cares for you.”

Jamie gave her a look. “That right?”

“Yes,” Dani said earnestly. 

At that, Jamie’s shoulders dropped, her face softening for a moment and then she huffed. “Right. Or you were just that bored without me,” she said, smirking. 

Dani rolled her eyes. The weekend hadn’t been a complete waste in truth. Eddie had brightened immeasurably when Dani returned with only the simple explanation that Jamie was grounded. He had even managed a sympathetic grin before leading her deeper into the house. It was like any other weekend spent at the O’Mara’s, except this time there was no Jamie with her silly commentary or teasing as Dani fumbled her way through some game involving fantasy creatures and dice. It almost felt like the days before Jamie and Nan had arrived at North Liberty, except now there had been a distinct large gap of the puzzle missing. 

Before Dani could respond however, there was the sound of shoes slapping on concrete. 

“Jamie!” was all the warning they both got before Jamie was once again nearly bowled over by the slim frame of Carson. Dani laughed when Jamie swore again, hugging Carson back and laughing, ruffling his hair. 

When the bell eventually rang to signal the start of the school day, they made their way to class. There wasn’t much fanfare to Jamie’s return beyond the quiet stares and hushed whispers behind hands through the halls and during class. Jamie at this point had learned to ignore it all, sighing and rolling her eyes whenever she managed to find herself the centerpoint of gossip. Dani on the other hand had no issues with scowling back until those staring spun away. By the time lunch rolled around and they were settling in their seats in the lunchroom, Dani was in the middle of pinning a smirking Jackie with a hard stare when Carson slid next to Jamie with a large tupperware in hand. 

Jamie snorted. “Don’t tell me you brought an entire meal with you for lunch,” she said, pulling back Dani’s attention.

Shyly shaking his head, Carson pushed the container towards Jamie. “It’s for you.”

Jamie blinked. “For me?”

Nodding, Carson grinned and said, “Open it!”

A look of uncertainty crossed Jamie’s face. She caught Dani’s eyes, quirking an eyebrow, but Dani just shrugged in response, at a loss herself. Shaking her head, Jamie finally opened the container and her eyes went wide at the sight of a pile of chocolate chip cookies and a big ziploc bag of puppy chow packed inside. 

“Holy shit,” Jamie said. “This all for me?”

Biting into his sandwich, Carson nodded and grinned around a mouthful of food. Chuckling, Jamie immediately snatched up a cookie and took a bite. Dani laughed, and reached forward for one of her own. 

Jamie swiped at her hand. “Ah, haven’t you heard? These are mine,” Jamie said. Eddie snorted into his own lunch as Dani scoffed, pulling her hand back. “What? You telling me you don’t have your own stash somewhere at home?”

“No,” Dani glowered, her mouth threatening to pull into a smile. 

“We made them only for you,” Carson said.

Jamie paused, frowning. “Why?”

Growing shy again, Carson shrugged. “When mom heard what happened, she thought it would be nice if we made you some cookies.”

A grin slowly grew on Jamie’s face. “You helped make these?” she asked, gesturing with the half bitten cookie in hand. At Carson’s slow nod, her grin grew wide and she stuffed the rest of the cookie in her mouth, “Think you’ve found your future calling.” 

Carson brightened, shooting upright, but then pulled his lips between his teeth, growing visibly anxious. “I’m sorry you got in trouble.”

Jamie’s chewing slowed. “Don’t worry about it, mate,” she said, shrugging. 

Carson’s face twisted. “But, you got beat up! And detention! And grounded! And -!” he paused, pointing at Dani “ — Dani was sad you weren’t with us for the sleepover!”

Pausing, Eddie blinked at Dani. “You were?”

Warmth spread across Dani’s cheeks as all eyes turned towards her. She shrugged helplessly under their stares. 

“Well, duh,” Carson said, like it should’ve been obvious. Then he sobered again, remorse in his eyes, “But yeah, I’m — I’m sorry.”

Jamie sighed, and was silent for a long moment before meeting Carson’s eyes. “Well...have any of them bugged you since? Looked at you funny at all?” Slowly, Carson shook his head. Jamie grinned softly in response and shrugged. “Then it was worth it.”

At that, Carson’s shoulders dropped from where they were bunched to his ears, and he matched Jamie’s grin when she ruffled his hair. Even as she did so, she slid the container closer to Dani, who happily took a cookie.

“Ed?” Jamie said, smirking as she shook the container at Eddie. “Biscuit for your clearly shattered nerves last week?”

He rolled his eyes. “Stop calling me that,” he mumbled for what seemed the millionth time, but eventually grinned and took a cookie, “Thanks.”

The rest of the school day passed by in a blur, happy that Jamie was back, happy that things were back to normal. 

After waiting out Jamie’s detention, they all exited the school together where Jamie jostled Carson with a wide grin and egged him on into a race towards the car. Before either of them could start a proper countdown, Jamie shoved her books into Dani’s arms and took off like a shot, laughing madly. 

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Carson shouted, shoving his own books in Eddie’s arms and ran off after her.

Dani smiled broadly and shook her head as she watched them go, juggling the books in hand. Jamie, already far ahead with her speed and jumpstart, twisted her head around to shout something back at Carson, and abruptly tripped over her own feet in the slick frozen grass and went tumbling across the ground. Dani somehow managed to wince and laugh at the same time as Carson sped past Jamie’s sprawling form, pointing and cackling before tripping himself, going flying on the grass. Even Eddie managed to double over laughing with Dani as they reached the prone pair. 

When Jamie hitched along for the ride home, Mike, who had been patiently waiting with a magazine in the car, twisted in his seat to give Jamie a grin. “Nice shiner, bud. Welcome back.”

Jamie’s shoulders straightened proudly. When Dani snorted and rolled her eyes, Jamie nudged her in the ribs, and Dani quickly nudged her back, the pair grinning wide. 

But when they arrived at the O’Mara household, a strange tension coiled at Jamie’s shoulders when they stepped inside and slipped off their shoes. Dani frowned curiously at her and the tightness of her mouth and the hard grip she had on her school books that were held together by an old brown belt, an unusual apprehension about her. When they all wandered to the kitchen where Judy already set up shop, chopping at vegetables, Jamie stood even more upright. 

“Oh, there she is!” Judy said, brightening into a smile when she caught sight of them. She left her kitchen knife on the counter and made a beeline towards Jamie. “All right, come here. Let me take a look.”

At the sound of the boys snickering, Jamie’s eyes went wide as Judy carefully framed her face with her hands, gently tilting her head side to side, Judy’s face one of concentration as she studied Jamie’s bruises. “Hmm, just as I thought,” Judy said, nodding decisively and smiled wide, resting her hands on Jamie’s shoulders. “A raging case of moxie and a heart of gold.”

Underneath the bruises, Jamie’s face went red as she blinked, the tension easing from her shoulders. Judy merely laughed, and pulled her into a hug, murmuring something that Dani couldn’t hear. Jamie stood stiff before slowly returning the hug, her arms held loose and awkward.

When Judy finally pulled away, Jamie ducked her head and murmured, “Um. Thank you, Mrs. O’Mara.” She raised her head, meeting Judy’s eyes, only to drop her gaze once more. “And for the biscuits, too.”

“I should be thanking you. Carson hasn’t stopped talking about it.”

Carson sputtered, an arm elbow deep in a bag of chips he had pulled out from a cupboard. “No, I haven’t!”  

Eddie laughed, making a grab for the bag, but Carson snatched it away just in time with a scowl.

Judy hummed, unconvinced, and turned to give Dani a knowing grin. “He even mentioned what you did, Danielle,” she said, “What you did for Jamie when she first got here.” At the mention of that old memory, of stepping between Jamie and a group of bullies before they were ever friends, Dani blushed hotly, catching Jamie’s eyes as she smirked at Dani. “So, I figured, I’d make us all something special today, just for my two brave girls.”

Jamie blinked again, seemingly frozen as Dani lit up and asked, “Lasagna?”

“Got it in one,” Judy grinned, but then sobered as she looked back at Jamie, “Just please, promise me no more fights? The twins give me enough stress as it is. Not just for the sake of my own heart, but the health of your grandmother’s?”

Jamie’s mouth twisted. “Did Nan talk to you?”

“She may have mentioned it.” Judy’s face gave away nothing. 

Jamie’s brows knitted into a slight resigned frown, and slowly she nodded. Pleased, Judy grinned again and gently nudged Jamie towards Dani with a pat to her back. “You kids go wash up and do your schoolwork, and then maybe you could come help me put the lasagna together. And — “ she sighed exasperatedly, returning to the counter “ — boys, put that away before you ruin your appetite.” 

Carson nodded eagerly as Eddie groaned, his mouth full of chips, rolling the bag up and stuffing it carelessly back into the cupboard before they both shuffled out of the kitchen. Dani snorted, shaking her head after them, and turned to see Jamie stepping quietly towards her, an odd look on her face. 

When Dani led her out of the kitchen, Jamie turned to her, her eyes filled with quiet bewilderment, and slowly asked, “What just happened?”

Dani smiled faintly, recognizing the look in Jamie’s eyes, one that Dani occasionally wore herself after long days in the O’Mara household. If there were words for it, an explanation to it all, then Dani couldn’t even begin to name or explain it, so she shrugged helplessly, grinning when Jamie rolled her eyes.

Later, as Eddie and Jamie were finishing the last of their math homework at the kitchen table, and Carson and Dani helped Judy layer massive baking pans with lasagna noodles, sauce, and various fillings, they heard the sound of the front door opening and the twins crashing in.

“Is she here?” one of them called. 

“She better be here!”

Judy pointed. “She’s here.”

Tommy and David rushed into the kitchen, and made a beeline towards Jamie.

“Oh, Christ,” Jamie groaned, already tensing her shoulders. 

Judy tisked. “Language.”

Dani laughed, a warmth settling over her as she watched the twins accost Jamie, jostling her shoulders as they proudly remarked at her bruises, comparing them to their own old fighting tokens, and demanded she tell her side of the tale. Jamie tried shoving them off, grumbling and elbowing them in the ribs, but couldn't hide her wide smile.

 --

On the day after the first snowfall of the year, Jamie insisted they go for a walk.

"Don't you have snow in England?" Dani asked.

They were sitting on the back porch of Jamie's house, jamming their feet into boots. Dani was dressed in a pink puffy jacket and swaddled up with a hat and scarf. Meanwhile Jamie had haphazardly tossed on a baggy jacket over her woollen sweater with some ragged fingerless gloves, as if that ensemble would be enough protection from the cold. Years of experience of Iowa winters told Dani that would not be the case.

"Yeah, but not like -" Jamie gestured with one of her boots towards the backyard, "- this."

The blanket of snow was deep and utterly untouched, extending beyond the treeline. The front lawn was another matter entirely. Jamie had spent the previous day shovelling a path from the sidewalk to the front steps until she was pink in the face from exertion, all while Nan watched with a waiting cup of tea in hand as Jamie's reward.

Dani squinted across the glare of sunlight that glittered across the white bank of fresh snowfall. "Not sure why this is so impressive," she said. "It happens every year, and just makes it difficult to walk everywhere."

"You love it," Jamie said.

Dani made a face. "I don’t. It's so cold. And I hate slipping on the sidewalks."

"Yeah, but it means the outdoor track days are cancelled for gym class."

At that, Dani paused. "Well. Yeah. Okay. I do like that."

"Told you." Jamie grinned and Dani rolled her eyes.

Jamie stamped her heel into the final boot, and stood, holding her hands out to Dani, who grabbed hold and allowed herself to be hauled to her feet. Jamie tugged her upright with such force, that Dani — eyes wide — lost her balance, and they went toppling over backwards off the porch into the snow with a chorus of cries and laughter and a spray of white all round.

Dani shuffled into a crouch, Jamie's body warm beneath her and shaking with laughter. "You did that on purpose!"

"I didn't! I swear!" Jamie said, and her smile was so broad it beamed almost as brightly as the sun's reflection. "This, I'm doing on purpose though."

Dani screwed up her face in confusion. "What -?"

In answer, Jamie reached to either side, grabbed two handfuls of snow, and shoved them into Dani's face and neck. A burst of icy water melted down the gap in Dani's scarf, and she shrieked, rolling off Jamie and further into the bank, limbs flailing in her attempts to escape. If this had been the twins, they would have pounced, turning it into a fight to test the trammels of time. Instead, Jamie cackled with laughter and scrambled to her feet, already bounding off towards the treeline with unwieldy steps.

"C'mon!" she shouted over her shoulder.

Shaking herself off, Dani pushed herself upright and started after her, ire singing in her teeth. She slipped and caught herself and stumbled along in Jamie’s wake. Jamie's footsteps were less dainty little impressions and more great gouges taken out of the snow, as though two tracks had been dragged from the porch and off to the trees. Jamie waited for her to catch up beneath the oak from which they had hung a tire swing the two years before. Her dark hair was struck through with snow as if it were a net of clustered stars, and her eyes sparkled. Whatever vengeance Dani had been planning to exact withered and died at the root when Jamie looked at her like that.

"Where are we going?" Dani asked.

Jamie shrugged and turned, stomping away with Dani at her side. "Dunno. Wherever we like. Don't suppose that old tire dump is still a few miles that way?"

"Probably," said Dani. "Why?"

"It's the closest thing to a hill in these parts. I was thinking if it's covered in snow, we might be able to slide down it."

The logic was sound, so Dani nodded. "All right. Are there lots of hills where you're from?"

They stepped up and onto the slightly elevated ground which indicated the train tracks. When Jamie's footing slipped, Dani grabbed hold of her arm to keep her from face-planting into the snow.

"Cheers," Jamie said, but she did not let go of Dani's hand, instead weaving their fingers together and tugging Dani straight down the abandoned track line. "Some hills, yeah. Bigger than here, by far. No mountains though. I'd love to see some honest mountains."

"We can go sometime. You know -" Dani swung their arms back and forth in an exaggerated arc. "When we learn to drive. Maybe before college."

Jamie's brow furrowed. "College? That's not old enough, is it?"

"Yeah, it is. I want to go to one out of state. Somewhere -" Dani hesitated to even voice the idea, but here, alone with Jamie, a pale sky overhead and a pale earth stretching out before her for miles in every direction, she felt brave enough to admit it. "Somewhere not here."

Jamie's gloves were scratchy against her fingers. "You mean university?" she snorted. "Christ. Never imagined myself going to one of those."

"Well, why not?" Dani asked. "Doesn't your Nan want you to go?"

"Not sure if she could afford it even if she did," said Jamie dryly. "But, nah. Not for me. After this, I'm done. Can you imagine me sitting around reading books and writing papers all day? What a laugh."

Jamie chuckled and shook her head, and a fine dusting of snow was knocked loose from the shoulders of her jacket. Dani didn't join her. She contemplated the idea — finishing school here, running off somewhere else, anywhere else, incurring the wrath of her mother, who had always insisted Danielle would go to university — and found the very notion thrilling in a way that made her feel slightly ill. She swallowed, and Jamie squeezed her hand before letting go.

The train tracks were lifted just enough that they poked up through the snow, narrow twin mounds that ran for miles and miles and ended at an old shunt that was still in operation beyond the next town's fertilizer plant. Jamie stood atop one track and walked the steel. The toe of her boots brushed away any snow atop it as she went. She held her arms outstretched to balance herself, and Dani stayed within reach so that Jamie could grab onto her shoulder should she need to regain her balance.

"What do you want to do?" Dani asked.

"Don't know. Don't care," Jamie answered. "I'll figure it out. One day at a time. What about you?"

Dani cast her mind back. She considered the question carefully. Jamie's outstretched hand tapped her on the shoulder, not out of a request for her to answer, but only because Jamie was see-sawing her arms back and forth to keep her footing without needing to hop off the track.

Eventually, Dani said, "Teach kids, maybe."

Jamie snorted, and a plume of white left her mouth like a cloud. "What? Like Mary Poppins?"

Dani could feel her own cheeks burn, and knew she must have been as pink as her puffy jacket. "No," she said primly. "Like Miss Blythe."

Miss Blythe, their new homeroom teacher this year, was young and smart and pretty. She smiled a lot, and she always wore nice skirts and flowing blouses. She remembered everyone's names, and her hair was shiny and dark when she bowed her head at her desk to read their assignments. Dani couldn't think of anyone she would like to resemble so much as Miss Blythe.

Jamie shot her a grin. "You like her, don't you?"

"Of course, I like her," said Dani. “I think she’s wonderful.”

"Not like that. You like like her."

If Dani's cheeks had been flushed before, it was nothing to the way heat flooded her face now. "I -! I do not!"

"Mhmm," said Jamie, and her grin had graduated into a fully fledged smirk now. "Sure."

Dani spluttered indignantly. "That’s not -! I don't -! Well, she's very pretty, but that's hardly -! I just think she's nice. And she always treats everyone fairly. And she - she makes you feel included, and she's so good at - Stop laughing! Jamie!"

"Aw! Poor Poppins with a crush on teacher!" Jamie laughed. "Don't let Ed hear about that. He'll be jealous."

With a huff, Dani shoved at Jamie's shoulder, and Jamie staggered off into the snow — arms pinwheeling — but didn't fall down. Jamie snickered good-naturedly and stepped back into place atop the rail to continue balancing her way down the track. "You'd make a good teacher."

Dani sucked in a lungful of icy air so fast it made her chest burn. She glanced up at Jamie, who was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. "You think so?"

"Yup," said Jamie, and for all her earlier teasing her voice now was sure and firm. She did not expand; she had only certainty. Then she added with an exaggerated shiver, "Wish we'd brought a thermos with a cuppa. Bloody freezing out here."

"I told you to bring Nan's extra scarf."

Jamie pulled a grotesque face as though she'd bitten into something rotten. "It smells like mothballs."

"Better that than be cold."

"Rather be cold than smell like pure shite."

Shaking her head, Dani reached up and unwound her own white scarf. She zipped up her jacket the rest of the way to accommodate the cold, and held the scarf out to Jamie. "Here."

Jamie blinked down at her. She lowered her arms and her steps slowed. "Really," she said. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"Just take the scarf, dummy," said Dani, shaking it at her so that one of the tasselled ends trailed from her fist.

"You get cold easier than me."

"True," Dani said. "But my jacket is puffier and I also have my hat."

Reluctantly, Jamie took the scarf with a mumbled, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Dani replied and began to continue on her way.

Jamie did not immediately follow. Confused, Dani turned around after a few steps to find Jamie still staring down at the scarf with an odd expression on her face, as though she didn't quite know what to do with it.

"Do you need help?" Dani asked. "Is your collarbone okay?"

At that Jamie gave a derisive snort. "Collarbone's fine. That was ages ago, anyway."

Dani frowned. She knew Jamie was stubborn. And she knew that some sub-surface injuries could ache for years. Nan was always cursing about her knee in the cold weather, after all. She herself had never broken a bone in all twelve and a half years of her life, and had only the experiences of others to go by. 

Before she could say anything else though, Jamie had begun walking along the track again, scarf stretched between her hands. “It’s just -” she lifted it round her neck “- still warm. Wasn’t really expecting -”

It happened in an instant. One moment, Jamie was balancing her way across the rail track. The next, she had slipped headlong and was writhing on the ground, gloved hands clutching her face. Dani’s eyes went wide. A splash of red sliced all across the snow. 

“Fuck!” Jamie’s shout was muffled into her palms. “Fuck!” 

“Jamie!”

Stumbling forward, Dani rushed to her side. As gently as she could, she pulled Jamie’s hands away from her face. The honed and frosted edge of the old railway track had split a broad line along Jamie’s chin and lower lip, so that the skin there had burst at the seams like the flesh of an overripe fruit. Blood dripped steadily from Jamie’s chin and the line of her jaw, splattering the ivory-coloured scarf around her neck with wine-dark splotches.

“Are you all right?” Dani asked, trembling hands still holding Jamie by the wrists. 

Jamie’s eyes were squeezed shut. She nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely peachy. Shit -!” Her tongue darted out and she hissed when the tip of it touched the gash in her lip. 

“Here.” Dani grabbed the ends of the scarf and pressed them tightly against the wound, stemming the flow of blood. 

Jamie tried to pull away. “Your scarf - It’ll get all -”

“Who cares about the scarf?” Dani said, and she wound the scarf in such a way that it could act as makeshift gauze. Even after it was tied and tethered in place, her fingers lingered against the warm skin of Jamie’s neck. She brushed her thumbs against the bluffs of Jamie’s cheeks, rubbing away a smatter of blood there. “Let’s get you home. You’ll probably need to see a doctor and get stitches.”

Jamie’s eyes were wide and she was staring up at her. The scarf bobbed as she opened and closed her mouth, but said nothing. Then she winced. “Yeah. Yeah, all right.” 

Dropping her hand to Jamie’s shoulder, Dani helped her up and guided her around so they could slowly make their way back to the house. Jamie shivered, and Dani draped her arm across her shoulders to huddle her closer, so that their hips jostled when they walked. When Jamie made a soft noise muffled by the scarf, Dani stole a glance at her profile.

“Does it hurt a lot?” she asked.

Jamie shook her head. Then after a pause she nodded in defeat. She groaned faintly. “Nan’s gonna kill me," she mumbled. "Again.” 

 --

"Danielle, slow down!"

Reluctantly Dani did as asked, her boots skidding to a walk. The street between Dani's house and the O'Mara residence was deep with snow. Christmas morning was crisp, the sky a blue so bright it almost hurt to look at. Her breath shivered on the air, and her mother's fingers were bright with the spot of an ember from a lit cigarette. Karen had a hastily wrapped present beneath one arm, while Dani carried the rest, so that she crinkled with foil paper and excitement with every step.

Dani reached the front door first and bounced on the balls of her feet until her mother arrived. Sighing, her mother flicked the cigarette into a bank of snow, where it hissed and vanished in a thread of smoke. Judy was the only person Dani knew who observed a strict ‘no smoking indoors’ policy. Not due to any health benefits, but because she complained that cigarette smoke stained the wallpaper yellow. The moment Karen stood beside her on the top step, Dani reached out to ring the doorbell only for her mother to stop her with a hand on Dani's cheek.

"Look at you. What a mess," her mother muttered, licking the pad of her thumb and using it to rub at a spot of syrup on Dani's cheek, all pink from the cold.

"Mom," Dani whined, but when Karen gave her a look she went quiet. Her nose scrunched up and she closed one eye until Karen deemed her suitable for company.

"I told you to wash your face before we left," Karen said. "Obviously I wasn't worth listening to."

"Sorry," Dani mumbled.

Lowering her hand, Karen made an abrupt gesture towards the door. Dani did not wait a second longer to push the doorbell. She could hear the two-toned chime inside followed by the sound of thudding footsteps, and then Eddie wrenched open the door. His face broke into a beaming smile when he saw who it was.

"You made it!"

"Merry Christmas," Dani said, returning his smile.

"Come on. Let's get these under the tree." Eddie reached out to take some of the presents, but froze when Karen cleared her throat pointedly. "Uh - I mean -" he pushed his glasses further up his nose and shuffled his feet. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Clayton. Won't you please come inside? My mom and dad are in the kitchen making coffee."

"Thank you," said Karen and as she stepped past him into the house, she pressed the present she was carrying into his hands.

They waited awkwardly for her to take off her boots and leave them on the towel stretched out in the foyer for just that purpose. Only when she had left did Eddie turn back to Dani, "Bad morning?" he asked.

Dani shrugged. "Not really. Just normal."

"Ah.” Eddie nodded in solemn understanding, then gave her a smile. “Okay. Here let me take those." He freed her arms of presents so Dani could take off her own boots and coat and scarf. Then he shut the door with his foot and nodded towards the living room beyond. "Let's go."

Every inch of the living room had been transformed by the addition of Christmas decorations strewn about — wreaths and holly, pine cones and tinsel, a tree that scraped the ceiling and a nativity set on the mantelpiece over the crackling fireplace. Tommy and David were already bickering over a card game, while Carson looked on, whining about not being dealt a hand. 

“C’mon,” he said. “I wanna play, too!”

“You can’t,” said Tommy, frowning down at his hand.

“But it’s better with more people! Why is it you two always do stuff alone!”

David drew a card and shrugged, sharing a secret grin with Tommy. “It’s a twin thing,” he said.

The moment Carson saw that Dani had entered the room however, his eyes lit up and he abandoned his older brothers.

“Hi!” he said, rushing forward. “Need help with those?”

Without waiting for an answer, he took what remained of the presents still in Dani’s hands and went with Eddie to place them under the tree with the mound of other presents already assembled there. Dani could see him looking over the presents she had brought for any sign of names, and when he found his own he tossed down the others in favor of shaking the box to determine its contents.

“Knock it off!” Eddie swatted the back of Carson’s head and took the present from him.

“Hey! That’s mine!” 

Carson tried to snatch the present back, but Eddie held it high above his head where Carson couldn’t reach. 

“Mom!” Carson called out towards the kitchen. “Eddie took my present!”

“Edmund, give Carson back his present!” Judy’s voice called from the other room over the murmur of adults sequestering themselves away for as long as possible before they had to face the onslaught of kids with too much sugar in their systems for ten in the morning.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie shoved the box into Carson’s chest, so that Carson grunted and had to take a step back. “Whatever,” Eddie said. “Just don’t open it before everyone else gets here.”

"Who else is coming?" Carson asked. He turned the box over a few more times and shook it, only to give up and put it beneath the tree.

"Jamie and Nan," Dani said.

"Oh! Great!" said Carson. "More presents!"

Dani glanced around towards Tommy and David, but the twins were engrossed in a way that she knew meant they wouldn't be open to intruders — especially not ones they thought were young and annoying. So, she instead said, "Monopoly?"

Eddie scratched at the side of his head, dark curls mussed beneath his fingers. "Kind of a long game to start. Don't you think?"

"Well -" said Dani, but Carson had already darted towards a wooden chest that doubled as a coffee table, opening it to pull out the Monopoly board.

"I get to be the dog!" Carson called out, yanking open the box's lid and setting up the board on the floor before the Christmas tree.

Eddie sighed, but Dani just smiled at him. She grabbed his arm and hauled him over to play a game while they waited. Dani picked the unassuming little iron token, and led the other two on a merry chase around the board. Fake paper money slowly flowed onto her side of the board, neatly tucked away in piles of descending order, whilst Eddie and Carson frowned and puzzled over how she managed it.

"You're cheating," Eddie said with narrowed eyes behind his round spectacles. "I don't know how, but you're cheating."

Dani held out her hand primly towards Carson, who was glum as he counted out bills and pressed them into her waiting palm. "I am not cheating," she said. "Carson, you've stiffed me twenty dollars."

Carson screwed up his face and stuck his tongue out at her, but handed over the final twenty that he'd slipped beneath his leg in the hopes that she wouldn't notice.

"Thank you," she said in a light sing-song tone that made Carson harrumph wordlessly in reply.

Eddie craned his neck and looked over his shoulder at the clock hanging on the wall. "Where are they?"

Dani glanced up from where she was dividing up her cash into their respective piles. An hour had come and gone, and still no sign of the others. As if summoned, there was a knock at the door.

"Thank god," Carson muttered, darting to his feet and scampering towards the door. "Game's over. Dani cheated."

"I didn't cheat!" she called after him, exasperated.

But Carson was already pulling open the door, and she could hear his voice floating into the living room from down the hall. "Hi, Jamie! Hi Mrs. Heron! You're late!"

"Don't just say that!" Eddie shouted. Then he shook his head and began helping Dani clean up the board. "Still don't know how you managed to get all those hotels."

"Maybe if you're nice to me, I'll tell you," Dani teased.

Going stock still, Eddie blinked at her.

"What?" Dani asked slowly.

The odd expression on his face washed away like yesterday's sunlight, and he shook his head with a huff of nervous laughter. “Nothing.” 

Briefly puzzled, she watched him place the lid back over the box and put the game away. There was movement at the edges of her vision, and when Dani looked up it was to find Nan and Jamie removing their coats and hanging them on hooks that lined the wall by the door. Jamie was brushing snow from her long hair, brow furrowed, while her other hand was balancing gifts that were expertly wrapped, not a crease or fold out of place. The gash slicing through her chin and lower lip had healed somewhat since their last fiasco — the stitches removed — but the skin around it stretched and pulled, looking reddened and angry.

Dani waved and Jamie’s expression brightened. Jamie started towards her, only for Nan to reach out and haul her back by the scruff of her neck.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Nan said. “Shoes off. And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

With an extra exaggerated roll of her eyes for good measure, Jamie leaned over to undo her laces and rid herself of her snow-dusted boots. 

Judy emerged from the kitchen. "Oh, Ruth! I'm so glad you could make it! Do you want coffee?"

Nan shook her head and began limping in her direction. "No, thank you, Judy. Just some boiled water for me should do the trick." As she went, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a ziploc bag filled with tea bags.

Judy smiled. "Sure thing. I'll stick a mug of water in the microwave for you."

Judy disappeared back into the kitchen, and Nan's expression was completely horrified. Dani watched this interaction and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Nan noticed and glowered. "Think that's funny, do you?"

Dani shook her head furiously. "No, ma'am. It's just — they don't have a kettle."

Nan sighed. "Uncivilized country." And, muttering to herself, she retreated into the kitchen after Judy to meet her fate.

Footsteps padded across the carpet and Jamie approached. "Can I put these down?" she asked, cradling a small tower of packages.

"Yeah, of course," said Eddie, darting up to help.

"Sorry we're late," Jamie said as they arranged the last of the presents beneath the tree. "Nan's fussy about wrapping. Likes everything to be perfect."

"They look really nice," Dani assured her, admiring the pristine packaging with a tilt of her head.

Jamie snorted. "Made me do that one three times. And then I had to clean up everything before we left."

"Mom!" Carson yelled, running so fast down the hall towards the kitchen that he skidded across the wooden flooring in a blur. "Mom! Everyone's here! Can we open presents now? Please?"

Jamie arched an eyebrow after him. "He always this mental during the holidays?" she asked.

"Yes," said both Dani and Eddie in unison.

"Don't see what all the fuss is about, personally."

"Well," said Eddie, drawling out the word in a thoughtful manner, "Getting new stuff is always nice."

At that, Jamie seemed a bit dubious. She scratched contemplatively at the raised pink tissue of her chin until Dani reached out to still her hand.

"You shouldn't scratch," Dani said.

Curling her fingers into a fist, Jamie dropped her own hand into her lap, looking churlish. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Still itches, though." And then her eyes skimmed over Dani’s outfit, blinking, as though now just noticing it. “Why do you look like you just jumped out of one of your mum’s catalogues?”

“Because I did,” Dani said, fighting back a sigh. “Or well, the dress did. Mom got it for me for Christmas.” 

Dani glanced down at the outfit in question, a long sleeved dark green dress with a red floral pattern by the hem and a lace neckline. It was a dress that felt more suited to warmer weather, the thin material doing next to nothing to help keep Dani warm, regardless of the white tights she wore or how warm Judy kept the house. What Dani didn’t mention was that while it wasn’t a terrible dress, she’d had a completely different outfit in mind this morning, but when she had pulled out the dress from its box, her mom had held it up to the length of Dani with such a wide pleased smile and demanded that Dani wear it in a tone the brooked no room for argument. 

Jamie scanned over the dress again, humming in contemplation, and shrugged. “Looks nice, actually,” she said, catching Dani’s eyes and giving her a grin. 

Before Dani could respond, her cheeks warm, the kitchen door opened and the parents began to filter out into the living room. The Christmas tree sparkled, casting a warm glow against Jamie's profile as she craned her neck to watch. Dani barely registered everyone else, and when Jamie turned to find her staring, Dani smiled.

With a befuddled smile of her own, Jamie asked, "What?"

Dani shrugged. "It's just nice to have you over."

"I come over here all the time."

"Yeah, but this is different."

"If you say so."

The couches and armchairs were quickly taken up by adults, while anyone under the age of eighteen was forced to continue sitting on the floor. Nan lowered herself into a chair with care, maneuvering her cup of tea and her cane. Karen perched herself idly on the arm of the couch right beside Judy, sipping on a cup of coffee. Mike sat by his wife, looking tired but content in his Argyle patterned sweater vest and matching socks.

"All right -" Judy started.

"Me first!" Carson blurted out, diving for the nearest present with his name on it.

With a grin and a rueful shake of her head, Judy motioned towards Eddie and Dani. “Just start passing everything around, won’t you?”

Nodding, Dani and Eddie reached for the presents. Dani read out the name scrawled across the wrapping paper and handed it over to Mike, who had to lean half out of the sofa to take it with a smile and a murmured, "Thanks." Carson was already ripping the paper off of a racing kit set for toy cars, but Dani set one of her own presents aside until everyone else had one in their hands. She kept her eyes on Jamie sitting next to her, as Jamie turned over a lumpy package that Dani had wrapped just earlier that morning. The expression on Jamie's face was both odd and awed, as if she couldn't quite believe that she had received presents at all. Every now and then she would dart her eyes towards Nan like she was checking to see that she was even allowed to do this, to be here, surrounded by people who liked her enough to buy her gifts.

Dani nudged Jamie's elbow with her own. "Open it," she said.

Jamie did not immediately do so. She turned the package over once more before carefully running her thumb beneath a fold in the wrapping, tearing through a scrap of tape holding the pieces together. Dani opened the present from Jamie at the same time — which was far better wrapped than her own — and the two of them blinked at each other in startled confusion when they each revealed a scarf.

"I got you one because I ruined yours," Jamie said.

"Well, I got you one because you don't have one," said Dani.

They held each other's gazes for a beat longer, until they cracked and snorted with laughter.

"Okay," Jamie said with a grin. "We're dumb."

"Funny, though," Dani replied.

Jamie shook her head, but her smile was broad as she leaned across Dani to reach for another present beneath the tree. "Hey, Ed," she said, tossing the present towards him. "This one's for you."

Eddie caught the gift. "Thanks. I wonder what it could be," he said dryly, weighing the package that was so clearly in the shape of a baseball mitt it would be impossible to mistake.

"A cricket bat, maybe," Jamie said.

Eddie made a face at her, but when he opened the gift to reveal a brand new mitt, his voice was warm when he said, "My old one is falling apart. Thanks, Jamie."

"Thank Nan. I can't afford shit."

"Language!" Nan barked, while at the same time Judy scolded, "Jamie Taylor!"

Jamie ducked her head and grimaced, reaching for another gift and handing it off to one of the twins. "Whoops," she muttered under her breath, not sounding sorry at all.

Dani shook her head but smiled. One by one the gifts were parceled out until Judy's living room floor was a mess of shredded wrapping paper and opened boxes spilling out with packing peanuts and bubble wrap. David and Tommy fought over who got to play the Mattel Electronics Football Game first. Carson had encloistered himself in a corner nearest the fireplace and was busy setting up his racing kit set with a single-minded focus, tongue between his teeth. Dani smiled at a jar labelled 'Travel Fund' that she had received from Jamie in a rucksack that already had a US flag patch sewn onto the red canvas fabric with space left for other future flags. And all of them had received a signature sweater from Judy, which was ugly beyond compare and which made Karen's face pucker up when Dani immediately pulled it on over her dress.

"Do they have to look like that?" Karen asked.

"What?" said Judy with a guileless shrug. "They're warm!"

Sighing, Karen stood and started towards the kitchen. "I'll put on another pot of coffee."

"Ruth, do you want another cup of boiling water for your tea?" Judy asked.

Nan's answering smile looked forced. "Cheers, but I'll be right."

Most of the presents had now been opened. Mike had pulled on a new pair of socks — the same gift he received every year, but which he always seemed pleased — and Eddie was fiddling with a pair of walkie talkies, trying to figure out how they worked.

"Hey, dad?" he asked. "Do we have any batteries?"

"Garage," Mike said, and Eddie went off in search, taking the walkie talkie set with him.

"Bring back some double As for me, too!" Jamie called after him. She waved with the pocket transistor radio that she'd been given by Judy and Mike, and which hadn't left her lap since she had first opened it with wide eyes.

"Yeah, sure," answered Eddie.

Dani ducked down to reach the last of the gifts hidden beneath the low-slung branches, dragging them out into the light. "This one's for -" she tilted her head and twisted the package around. "- Jamie. From Nan."

Jamie opened the gift and rolled her eyes. "A new pair of gardening gloves," she said in a deadpan voice, holding up the leather gloves. "Joy of joys."

"Ones that fit this time," said Nan, nodding. "And if you lose this pair like you did the last, you'll be paying for the next yourself."

Jamie grumbled something under her breath.

Nan sniffed. "In my day, we were thankful if a bomb didn't drop on us during Christmas."

"Oh my god. The Blitz is over, Nan. Give it a rest," Jamie groaned, but dutifully set the gloves aside atop her transistor radio.

From the couch, Judy gestured towards one of the remaining presents with the toe of her slipper. "Danielle, there's another one there for you that you missed."

"Oh." Dani turned it over to see that it was labelled for her from the O'Maras. While she opened it, beside her Jamie began pulling on every article of clothing she had received as a gift — sweater, scarf, and garden gloves — until she was wrapped up and ready to brave the elements at the drop of a hat. Dani grinned at her, but then blinked in surprise at the box beneath the wrapping paper portraying a new polaroid camera.

"Oh, wow," she breathed.

Hastily, Dani pushed aside the wrapping paper and pulled open the box. The camera was small enough to fit in both her hands. She fiddled with it, reading the instructions so she could point the camera and squint into the eyepiece at Jamie. Through the lens, Jamie's figure was slightly distorted. Jamie turned, saw the camera aimed in her direction, and waved. Dani pressed a button down, and there was a resultant click, a flash and whir, and a square slip of film was spat out by the camera. Lowering it, she tugged at the film. Its surface was greyish, the image slowly taking hold, a silhouette as faintly visible as a specter cast in watery sunlight.

"This the last one?"

Dani's head jerked up before she could watch the image fully materialize. When she saw Jamie inspecting the final present to be unwrapped, she set the camera and the square strip of film down. "Yeah. That one's from me."

Jamie's eyebrows rose. "But you already got me something," she said. She took off the gardening gloves and tugged at the scarf wound about her neck, tossing both onto the ground.

"I wanted to get you something else, too," Dani said.

Jamie stared at her for a moment, her expression unreadable. In the background, Tommy had wrestled the handheld video game from his twin brother. Mike and Nan were chatting away about something boring and adult — war and history, perhaps. Judy had leaned back against the couch, neck craned so she could peer into the kitchen and say something to Karen, who was standing in the doorway with an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth. Dani smiled and made a motion for Jamie to open her final gift.

Clearing her throat, Jamie began unwrapping the present, taking great pains not to rip a single section of the paper no matter how hastily wrapped in the first place. The box beneath was small, small enough to fit in Jamie's palm. Brows furrowed, she opened it and sucked in a lungful of air. The two identical necklaces entwined inside were cheap and plated, but they gleamed in the Christmas tree lights when Jamie pulled them from their box, sinuous chains pinched between thumb and forefinger.

"Why are there two?" Jamie asked.

"One for you," said Dani, reaching out and taking a necklace with a self-satisfied grin. "And one for me."

Even after Dani had put her own necklace on, Jamie remained frozen in place. The simple chain rotated slowly in place, suspended from her hand, and the half dollar piece pierced midway down the length was a match to the coin that now hung at the hollow of Dani's throat.

"Mike helped me drill the holes," Dani said proudly. "But the rest I did myself."

Jamie swallowed, her throat working, but she said nothing.

Dani frowned and said slowly, "Do you want this one instead?" She lifted the chain away from her neck with her thumb. 

Jerking as if from a reverie, Jamie shook her head. "No," she said. She cleared her throat and continued, “No, I like this one. Thank you.” 

“Dad, I can’t find them!” Eddie’s voice called from down the hall. 

Sighing, Mike pushed himself to his feet and went off to help look for batteries. “Did you check the drawer above the tool set, bud?”

“I did!” Eddie insisted. “They’re not there!”

Jamie was tugging aside her braid so she could fasten the necklace in place beneath it. Behind her, Judy leaned forward in her seat. “Jamie, I told Mike that you were working on that old bike you found.”

Glancing up at her, Jamie gave a nod that she was listening.

“And,” Judy continued, “he said you’re welcome to bring the bike around any time to work on it over here. If you need tools or spare parts, the garage is your oyster.” 

Jamie lowered her hands and the necklace was a silvery glimmer that hung down her chest, disappearing beneath the neck of her sweater. “Thanks, Mrs. O’Mara.” 

“Please. Call me Judy.”

From the sidelines, Nan lifted a finger to point threateningly at Jamie and growled, “Do not do that.”

Jamie gave Judy an apologetic grin and lifted both hands, palms up, as if in surrender. Judy laughed fondly, eyes bright as she watched Jamie resettle her braid. “Honey, you have such beautiful long hair, why didn’t you leave it open today?”

Nan snorted. “Hell would have to freeze over for that girl to leave her hair down.”

Visibly fighting back a scowl, Jamie shrugged and offered Judy a weak smile. “Just gets in the way, is all.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to worry about that if you’d let me help,” Judy said, “We could tie some of it back and tame those curls to some lovely waves like Danielle’s hair.”

At the mention of Dani’s hair, Jamie’s eyes darted to the loose blonde waves cascading over Dani’s shoulders, and both Dani and Judy laughed when Jamie failed to hide her wince. 

Meanwhile in the nearby corner, Carson threw down a piece of plastic car track in exasperation. “Jamie,” he called across the room. “Can you help me build this? It’s not working.”

“Sure. Hold up.” Seeing her chance to escape, Jamie quickly stood and wandered over to him, crouching down before the warren of track he had assembled already. “What on earth have you done?”

“I followed the instructions!” Carson whined, holding up a piece of paper.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Jamie snatched the instructions from his hand, then rolled them up to lightly smack him over the head with the pages. He spluttered and slapped her hand away.

“Look at them,” Judy said to Nan while they watched Jamie help Carson set up the toy car track. “Aren’t they cute together?”

“Bit young for that sort of thing, don’t you think?”

“Well, she did defend him from all those bullies. And afterwards, Carson spoke of nothing else. It was ‘Jamie this’ and ‘Jamie that’ for a week solid.”

Jamie overheard the adults talking. She shared a befuddled look with Dani and then mimed being sick. Beside her, Carson had gone bright red, trying and failing to pretend he hadn’t heard anything, while Dani bit back a smile. 

“Gross,” Carson said under his breath.

“You can say that again,” Jamie muttered.

“Gross.” 

“That’s the spirit. Now, hand me that bit of track over there. No, no, the other one.”

Dani’s gaze dropped to the picture she had taken. She picked it up from the carpet to inspect it more closely. It had finally taken form, and she smiled at the image of Jamie’s half-hidden grin behind a big scarf, her hand bulky from the gardening gloves and blurred from movement. Tucking it away for safekeeping, Dani lifted the camera into her hands once more and pointed it in Jamie and Carson’s direction for another picture. 

Much later after lunch, still laughing at the way Nan had spooked Mike and the twins into action to clear the dining room table and clean up the dishes with just a single look and comment, Dani and the others had taken to testing out the limits of Eddie’s walkie talkies around the house. At the moment, she and Jamie were holed up in the upstairs bathroom with one set while Eddie and Carson were running around with the other.

“Can you hear me now? Over.” Eddie’s voice came through the speakers, tinny and muffled. 

“Yeah,” Dani responded, “Where are you?”

“You’re supposed to say Over,” Eddie said, “Over.”

Jamie sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling the walkie talkie in Dani’s hand close to her mouth, pressing down on Dani’s thumb that she held over the push to talk button. “Just answer the question, you tit.”

Dani snorted as Eddie grumbled on the other side. “Hold on,” he said, and then a beat passed before he said, “We’re in the garage, how about now?”

“Loud and clear, soldier,” Jamie said dryly and let go of the walkie talkie to turn to Dani with a glint in her eyes, “Y’know, I reckon this thing could even reach beyond your house. Could you imagine putting one under his bed and being able to scare the shite out of him and he wouldn’t even know you were a block away.”

Dani laughed, but said, “That’s mean.”

“Oh, come off it. You’ve thought about it.”

In truth, Dani hadn’t. While Carson had already laid claim to one half of the set much to Eddie’s annoyance, Eddie had already quietly offered Dani to share so they’d could have conversations between their houses without Dani having to come over or hog the house phone. It was a sweet offer, and a tempting one, being able to talk to Eddie whenever she wanted, but looking at Carson’s eager expression, she couldn’t bear to take away the excitement from him. 

“Nope,” Dani replied, ignoring Jamie’s dubious look, and continued, “What I am thinking about though, is if there’s any cookies left downstairs.”

Jamie’s eyes lit up just as Eddie’s voice returned. “Okay, we’re in the basement, how about now?”

Taking the walkie talkie from Dani, Jamie said, “Perfectly. Are Tweedledee and Tweedledum down there yet?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied.

“Ask them if they’ve eaten all the biscuits yet.”

“Biscuits?”

Jamie huffed. “Cookies,” she said, then pulled her finger off the button to mutter, “Christ's sake, you Yanks.”

Snorting again, Dani gave Jamie a curious look, but Jamie just grinned at her until Eddie finally responded, “They said no, but they laughed so I’m not really sure.”

“Means they probably left the shite kind,” Jamie said, “Doesn’t matter, I’ve got a plan. Dani’s gonna run down to grab us a plate, and I’m gonna sneak out to her house to see if this thing can reach there.”

Dani’s eyes went wide.

“Roger that, over and out,” Eddie said, and then there was silence.

“Jamie,” Dani hissed, “Nan will kill you.”

The look Jamie gave her was exasperated. “You’d think she’d done it by now after everything, yeah?”

That made Dani pause, recollecting all the moments when she was sure Nan was about to pop a blood vessel, but never once did anything more beyond a light thwack on the head with her hand or on the ankle with her cane.

Seeing the realization creep onto Dani’s face, Jamie grinned. “See? Won’t take but a minute,” she said, already rushing out the bathroom door. 

“Wear a jacket,” Dani called out, and in response, Jamie grinned and saluted her with two fingers before disappearing. 

Sighing, Dani waited a minute to give Jamie the time to sneak out without making too big of a scene and then finally descended the stairs. When she reached the ground floor with no Jamie in sight, Dani carefully peeked into the living room to see that all of the adults were none the wiser, Christmas music playing on low as they talked and laughed, the tv playing some movie on mute. The only thing that was curious, was that her mom was missing. Shrugging, Dani ventured off to the kitchen. 

True to word, there were cookies left, and just as Jamie had said, they were the kind that would always be left for last on the plate or in the tin. But cookies were cookies, so Dani began helping herself pile some on a plate for the four of them, and just as she decided that some milk would do nicely to go with it, her mother wandered into the kitchen from the back door. Her hand jerked back from the fridge door handle when her mother caught sight of her and the plate of cookies on the counter. 

“Cookies? Danielle, you just had a big lunch,” Karen said, stepping closer with a near empty glass of wine in hand, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and smelling strong of fresh cigarette smoke. 

Dani shrugged, and murmured, “We wanted snacks.”

Her mother sighed, a hand on her hip, her eyes darting over Dani’s sweater. Dani looked away, shying away from her mother’s scrutiny, her shoulders bunching up. “Are you going to wear that all day?” Karen asked. “It’s covering up your pretty dress.”

“I like it,” Dani said, chancing a glance up at her mother to see her mouth slowly twist into a displeased frown. Dani quickly added, “It’s warm, and-and it’s a little cold, so I thought — “

“Danielle, if you didn’t like the dress, all you had to do was say so,” Karen said, her voice sharp, taking another step closer. 

Dani blinked up at her, taking a step back until she was pressing against the counter. “I didn’t — I didn’t say that,” Dani murmured, her hands clenched into fists. “I like it. It’s just cold.”

Gradually, the firm lines of her mother’s face cleared until she was staring down at Dani with a near unrecognizable expression. Her mother glanced down at the glass in her hand for a moment before slowly holding it out to Dani. Frowning, Dani looked down at it. Dark red wine swirled in the glass, just only a mouthful left. She had lost track by now since escaping deeper into the house with the others; she couldn’t tell if this was the third glass after the first two Dani counted her mother having during lunch, or if this was somewhere in the realm of the fourth or fifth. 

Dani glanced back up to give her mother a questioning look. “Try it,” Karen said, gesturing with the glass. The wine swirled dangerously near the lip of the glass. “Just a sip.”

Hesitantly, Dani unclenched one fist and reached out to the glass, slowly taking it from her mother’s grasp. She swallowed hard, staring down at the ominous burgundy liquid, and darted her eyes back up to her mother for any sharp glint in her eyes, any tension to the corners of her mouth, any clue to see if this was some trick, some test. But her mother only breathed out a laugh and murmured, “Go on.”

Taking a second to gather her courage, Dani lifted the glass to her mouth and took a small sip, and almost immediately twisted up her face. It was bitter, settling heavy and thick on her tongue even as she swallowed it down. Her mom laughed at the expression on her face as Dani pushed the glass back in her hand, wine still remaining at the bottom. 

Dani wiped her mouth as though the motion could remove the sour taste in her mouth. Her mom stepped away, still laughing and lifting a finger from the glass to point at Dani. “Consider yourself lucky,” she said, “The first drink my father ever let me try was scotch when I was nine. Now that burned.”

That made Dani pause, staring at her mom as she downed the rest of the wine with ease. It wasn’t often her mother spoke of Dani’s grandfather. “He always used to do that,” Karen said, a rueful look in her glassy eyes, “He was always such a sweet man when he was drinking, like it was the only way he knew how to show affection. But when he was sober though —” her mother chuckled, a short bitter thing “ — that was an entirely different story.”

Dani stood frozen, watching her mother swallow thickly and clear her throat, opening a cabinet to pull out a bottle of wine. An uncomfortable churning began in Dani’s stomach, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the sip of wine she tasted, or from watching her mother pour herself another glass, more than she had in previous drinks. As though sensing Dani’s discomfort, her mother stared at her, resting the bottle on the kitchen table with a heavy ominous thud.

“Don’t you start,” Karen said, her eyes suddenly and inexplicably hardened. 

“Start what?” Dani asked, her eyes darting up to her mother’s, curling further into the hunch of her shoulders. She hadn’t done anything beyond stare at the wine with some measure of concern, but at the sight of mother’s face shadowed with a severe frown, Dani knew immediately that she had misstepped somewhere over the course of the day. 

“You think I haven’t seen your little looks all day? Counting? Judging?”

Dani could hear it then, the slight slur to her mother’s voice. Could see it in her piercing glassy eyes. Could feel it in the way her mother stepped closer again, her shoulders tense and feet moving with purpose. The urge to run struck Dani hard in the chest, but she remained frozen, pressing back harder into the counter behind her as her mother loomed over her.

“I didn’t - I wasn’t doing anything,” Dani stuttered, her heart crashing against her ribs. 

Karen scoffed. “No? So, I imagined it then. Like a fool.”

“N-no, I — “ Unable to look her mother in the eyes anymore, Dani bowed her head to stare at the ground, her feet so small compared to her mother’s stocking covered pair. 

“You couldn’t give me just this one day, Danielle,” Karen said, “You know how hard Christmas can be for me.”

Dani nodded, words trapped in her throat. Her mother exhaled sharply. “You always have to do this, don’t you?” Karen said, her voice low and acrid with strained bitterness. “First with the sweater, and now this.”

The words seemed to wrap around Dani’s heart and clench painfully tight until a dull but deep ache spread across her chest, leaving her throat thick and her eyes burning. Any cheer or joy Dani had managed to revel in throughout the day seemed to slip away and vanish like a cloud of smoke. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally murmured, “I won’t do it again.”

Her mother scoffed again, and just when it felt like she was about to say something else, there was a distinct tapping sound nearing the kitchen. Her mother paused, and after what felt like an eternity, Dani watched her feet step away with a sigh. All at once it felt like Dani could breathe again. She glanced up as the tapping cane came closer, and fiddled with the cookies on the plate. 

“Ruth,” Karen said, her voice sounding so clear, as if nothing had just transpired, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

Dani reached for a cookie and bit into it, with nothing else to distract her from the roiling in her stomach and the thickness in her throat. 

“None for me, thank you,” Nan said, stepping towards the sink, “Afraid I’ve damned myself to another cup of microwaved tea. Dani, be a dear and fetch me the milk.”

At the sound of her name — her preferred name — Dani jumped, twisting around to blink at Nan who was already busy filling her cup with water from the tap. Dani stared, frozen for a moment before jumping into action, setting down her cookie to pull out the carton of milk from the fridge without looking in her mother’s direction. After a moment of contemplation as Nan heated up her mug in the microwave, Dani helped herself and poured the glass of milk she had wanted for the cookies in the first place, a noticeable tremble in her hands. 

With nothing more to do, Dani stood there staring at the glass, the room eerily silent save for the buzzing hum of the microwave, until — 

“Dani,” Nan said. Jerking just slightly out of her reverie, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes darted to Nan who was watching her steadily, soft around the edges and so unfamiliar that Dani could do nothing but blink. Nan gestured her head towards the kitchen entrance, and murmured, “They’re all waiting for you downstairs, love.”

Dani nodded, biting her lip hard at the unrelenting feeling of her mother’s piercing gaze on her back. She picked up the plate and glass of milk and slowly made her way out of the room, her head ducked. In between the moments of taking her leave from the kitchen and gradually making her way down the stairs towards the basement, Dani’s heart settled and she managed to push down the lump in her throat, but the ache in her chest remained. 

When she reached downstairs, the room packed with mismatched furniture and a tv in the corner that was surrounded by the boys arguing over which program or movie to watch, there was Jamie, laughing brightly with her cheeks flushed red and her hair cluttered in a starburst of melting snow. But when Jamie turned, catching her eyes, instead of a smile Dani expected, victorious from her quick jaunt outside, Jamie frowned and started towards her. 

“You all right?” Jamie asked, her eyes darting between Dani’s. 

Dani nodded, her mouth pulling into a smile. “Yeah, of course,” she said, and held up the plate for Jamie to see, “These cookies just really suck.”

Jamie glanced down at the plate before returning her gaze to Dani, arching a disbelieving eyebrow. 

“Seriously, I think there’s raisins in them,” Dani added. Pulling her mouth into a thin line, Jamie took the plate and glass from her hand to set them on a nearby table. Dani frowned. “Hey, wha — “ 

“C’mon,” Jamie said, grabbing her hand and pulling her back towards the stairs. “I want to show you something.”

Dani’s stomach twisted. “Jamie — “

“S’alright,” Jamie said, turning to grin at her, her eyes soft. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Slowly, Dani’s mouth shut, Jamie’s cold hand squeezing her own in a careful grip. Dani couldn’t help but match Jamie’s grin and follow her back up the stairs, the pull of her hand insistent but gentle as she guided Dani up to the second floor towards a window on the landing that overlooked the backyard. 

“C’mon, take a look,” Jamie said, leaning against the windowsill with a smile over her shoulder at Dani, their hands still clasped.

Shooting Jamie a puzzled grin, Dani stood next to her to look out the window, and felt her breath catch in her chest. Outside, flurries of white gently floated down from the sky in a dance to unheard music. 

“Pretty, right?” Jamie asked, her voice unusually soft. Dani nodded, her eyes wide as she stared up at the sky, the sound of Christmas music muffled through the floor. And then, Jamie carefully said, “Dunno why it seemed like you just went through the ringer in the minute I was outside, but I felt like this could cheer you up a bit.”

Dani squeezed the hand in her own, feeling the ghost of the pressure returned. “It did,” Dani said softly, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jamie murmured, and then added, “You wanna come over soon? Escape your mum for a bit? We could eat leftovers ‘til we’re sick and make Nan watch White Christmas again? She may actually try to kill us this time, but worth the risk.” 

Dani laughed, feeling an inexplicable lightness to her shoulders and chest, the aching pressure gone. Dani turned to catch Jamie’s eyes, only to see that Jamie was already staring at her with a pleased grin. “Yeah, I’d love to,” Dani said, her smile wide, and Jamie’s hand warm in her own.

 --

The first thing Jamie said when she opened the door was, "You've got to help me."

Dani blinked in surprise. She stood, dumb-struck, on Jamie's front step with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Night was already swiftly descending even though it was only six in the evening. Behind her headlights like a pair of eyes flashed through the gloom against the windows as her mother's car pulled away from the curb, where moments before Dani had hopped out and trotted up to Jamie's house without a backward glance. Dani glanced down to where Jamie's fist was clenched around a pair of kitchen scissors, spotted with rust.

"What -?" she asked, and had barely enough time to toe off her snow-struck shoes before Jamie was grabbing her by the wrist and hauling her inside, shutting the door with a kick of her socked foot.

"Shh! Keep it down!" Jamie hissed.

Her head whipped around to see if anyone had heard them, but the living room was empty and there were no tell-tale sounds of the tap of a walking stick down the hall or in the kitchen. Her hair was uncharacteristically down, Dani noticed. Long and auburn-dark as autumn leaves, curled from all its time spent coiled up in a braid.

"Okay," Jamie whispered, "We're clear. Follow me."

Dani made an abortive noise in the back of her throat, but tamped it down as Jamie tightened her hold on her hand. They scurried through the house like thieves. Jamie led them on a circuitous route around the furniture, as though stalking a beast through the jungle. The tops of their heads peeped out over the cushions of a green couch with a lacy throw draped across its back like delicate snow. With a final dart down the hall, their footsteps muffled by the carpet bearing tea stains and cigarette burns — tea stains from Jamie, cigarette burns from the previous owner — they made it to the spare half bathroom, which had no shower. Jamie locked the door behind them with careful precision, so that the sound was only the lightest of clicks against the brass knob.

"What's happening?" Dani asked, voice hushed in the dark.

Jamie only flicked on the light when she had grabbed a towel from the rack and pressed it up against the bottom of the door to keep as much light from leaking out as possible. Then, she rounded on Dani and held up the scissors. "I need you to cut my hair."

"Is that it?" Dani asked, straightening her spine.

Jamie made a motion for Dani to keep her voice down. "She'll hear you!"

Rolling her eyes, Dani nevertheless gamely kept her voice to a low murmur, "Why doesn't Nan just take you to the hairdresser in town?"

"She did! Look!" Jamie pointed at her own hair, which admittedly did look to be an inch or so shorter than when Dani had seen her last.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Everything!" Jamie hissed. "I wanted it all off, but Nan said no! And the barber refused to take the money I tried to give her when Nan wasn’t looking! Fucking coward.”

"And you want me to do it instead?" Dani asked. "So I can face Nan's wrath? No way!"

"She won't hurt a child!" Jamie said. Then after a moment, she added, "Much. Anyway, she likes you. Way more than she likes me."

"Now, that's not true."

"Inn'it though?" Jamie said, narrowing her eyes and nodding as though they both knew the answer to that rhetorical question.

"It's not!" Dani insisted.

Through the door, they could hear a distant cough. Both of them froze, deer in the headlights, trapped in a looming, luminous stare. There followed a shuffling as if of someone shifting their weight atop bed springs, and the papery turning of a page. When it became clear that Nan wasn't coming to investigate, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

"If you're not going to help me, then I'll just do it myself," said Jamie, already grabbing hold of her own hair and lifting the scissors.

With a groan, Dani dropped her overnight bag to the peeling linoleum floor. She held out her hand. "Give me the scissors."

"Oh, hell yes," Jamie breathed.

Scissors in hand, Dani directed Jamie to sit atop the scarred wooden toilet seat. Jamie eagerly complied, facing away from her so that Dani could have easy access. For a moment Dani hesitated. She reached out and touched Jamie's long hair, combing her fingers through the wild tangle of dark untamable curls. It was, she realised with an odd thread of excitement weaving a warm path through her chest, the first time she had ever touched Jamie's hair like this. When she dragged her fingernails lightly along Jamie's scalp, Jamie's shoulders relaxed and she swayed back into Dani's hand with a soft sound.

Dani withdrew her hand as though scalded. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"S'alright," Jamie said without turning around. "Feels nice. You can touch my hair."

"Yeah?"

Now, Jamie did turn her head, angled just enough so that Dani could see her roll her eyes. "How else are you supposed to cut it? Christ. You are thick sometimes."

Dani flicked the back of her head as revenge. Jamie flinched from the contact, but Dani could hear her laugh quietly, could catch a glimpse of her smile.

"Go on, then," Jamie said, squaring her shoulders once more as though readying herself for a march into battle. "Do it."

Carefully, taking her time so that Jamie could back out if she wanted, Dani pulled around as much of her hair as she could so that it draped down Jamie's back. "You're going to owe me big time for this," Dani muttered as she worked.

"Name the price."

"I want the good pillow tonight," Dani said. Jamie's bedroom was small and cramped and there were no other spare rooms in the house, so every time Dani stayed over it always ended up with the two of them crammed together on Jamie's narrow mattress, where one of them — usually Dani — was inevitably stuck with a lumpy pillow from the couch.

"Done," Jamie agreed without a hint of hesitation.

“All right,” Dani said. She steadied herself with a deep breath and placed the flat of the closed scissor blade against Jamie’s shoulder. “Here?”

“Shorter.”

Dani dragged the scissors up a few inches higher. “Here?”

“Shorter.” 

Swallowing down her nerves, Dani lifted the scissors so that they hovered over the back of Jamie’s neck just below the base of her skull. “Here?” 

Jamie nodded, her head bumping gently against the scissors. “Yeah. Perfect.” 

“All right,” Dani repeated. She opened the scissors and held them in place so that a good portion of Jamie’s long hair was folded across the sharp edges of the blades. Still, she did not cut. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“Hurry up,” Jamie said and she cast a furtive glance towards the door. “She could come any second.”

And, taking her life into her own hands, Dani squeezed the scissors shut. The first section of Jamie’s hair fell away like a curtain with a single clean snip. As if watching herself perform the deed from out of her own body with a kind of dull horror, Dani continued along — two more great big cuts in a horizontal line — until Jamie’s curls brushed the back of her neck and no further.

“Is that -?” Dani lowered the scissors. “Is that what you wanted?”

One of Jamie’s hands reached up and she felt at her own hair with a silent wonder. 

“Jamie,” Dani breathed nervously. “Please, tell me that it’s all right.”

There was no mirror in this bathroom. Indeed, the only mirror in the whole house was a small rectangle of reflective glass in the bathroom with only a shower over a bath adjoining Nan’s room further down the hall. And there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell they would be braving that tonight. 

Jamie turned around so that she sat facing Dani, and she beamed up at her. “Perfect,” Jamie said. “Absolutely bloody perfect.”

The creak of bed springs, and the tap of a cane, and both of their eyes widened.

“Shit,” Jamie hissed, leaping off the toilet so she could lift the lid and begin shoving hair into the bowl. “Help me hide the evidence!”

“Hide the evidence?” Dani repeated incredulously. “You think she’s not going to notice?”

Even so, Dani scrambled to help, while they continued whispering and hissing at one another like a pair of angry geese. Except Jamie was wearing the biggest smile on her face, one Dani could not hope but mirror, and biting her lip as they tried to stifle their giggles and flush the toilet quickly enough. 

There was a knock on the door, and Nan’s suspicious voice from the other side, “What are you two up to this time?” 

Stuffing the pair of scissors under her sweater even though the door hadn’t opened, Dani straightened, Jamie’s shoulder and elbow jostling her own, and they both chorused in unison, “Nothing!”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #damie #dani clayton #jamie taylor #dani/jamie #roman writes #I hate tagging on tumblr #cfau #bring home a haunting

[edgar-percival]

Entry 10. I Am Displeased.

It has been a while since I last aired a grievance. Sincerest of apologies; I have been busy as usual.

For one I had the displeasure of polishing our beloved shrink. You can hardly tell that she is not Mudokon; the golden feathers on her dazzling screen are full of so much life and glory!

(…Is he gone? Thank Odd, I do hate telling Kruger-Spoofs.) L3N0R3’s dishevelled feathers are of a dark cedar hue. Pardon my language but she is lifeless as the taxidermy Meech in Lord Bramm’s quarters; she is nothing but an offensive swindle of a dearly departed Mudokon. Whilst I was dubiously shining her rusted metal coat, the most awful and horrific noises came out of her. Distorted screeches and howls as if she were pained, yet also empty laughter from within her.

Side Note; I cannot stop thinking about fruits and it is driving me quite mad; one of the brand new paintings on the wall is of a bowl of assorted fruit and I wish it were all real. The miniature scarlet conical fruits look particularly delightful. What are they called, prithee, if anybody knows?

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#diary #oddtumblr #oddworld edgar #oddworld fanfic

[once-upon-a-scenario]

Upper Moons (+ Muzan): Scent HCs

Excluding Hantengu but guys I promise that I don’t hate him :,) it’s just that all his separate identities *really* confuse me and I didn’t feel up to making HCs for all of those chaotic fools

If anybody wants to request him separately, though, feel free and I’ll make my best effort! XD

Pillars version EDIT: an anon requested Hantengu!

___

Muzan:

Like good cologne. Woodsy, mildly fragrant, crisp and clean. A bit musky. Just a touch of something almost floral, but maybe not quite. A hint of something that might be wine. It’s an elegant, complicated sort of scent, the type that goes perfectly with his pristine suits and expensive kimonos, reminding you of the interior of vast mansions and the opulence of his life in human society. It'll sneak into your senses, overwhelming you over time, though you won’t notice it at first. Another thing you might fail to notice is that it’s really only a very strong overtone. Underneath his masquerade of grace, Muzan smells distinctly of copper and a bitter, stinging stench that you could only describe as something dead or dying. You won’t recognize it if you know what’s good for you, even when the coppery scent ever-so-slightly bleeds through his usual fragrance. Even when it lingers on you after he’s gone.

Douma:

He smells like a garden, like pink lotus- it’s a scent that reminds you of warm sun, gentle wind, and flowers bursting into bloom all around you. Fruity. Bright. Sugary-sweet. Something like a summer breeze that follows him everywhere, even in the dead of winter, even when there’s blood all over him and he should smell more like it. All the more unnerving when he stands there covered in the aftermath of a kill and all you can smell is that same light, enchanting sweetness. It worms its way into your senses and won’t let you go, making you feel dizzy and just a little hypnotized, and you’ll always think there’s something insidious about how purely, mildly pleasant it is. It’s not a human sort of scent, and you’ll never forget it once you’ve been within its reach. The fragrance of ‘’paradise’’ will haunt you long after you’ve parted ways with its wearer.

Akaza:

The stench of blood never fully leaves him. It’s strong, sharp, in your face. You’ll smell him the moment he walks into a room; the scent of combat and killing, something smoky and burnt around the edges of it. Underneath it, stabilizing it, is an earthy, musky sort of tone, the scent of the outdoors, of jagged mountains and dark forests, pine and oak, all of it burnt and raw. He reeks of war, of blood-soaked dirt. At the same time, though, it’s an oddly human scent. Frightening, maybe, but not as much of a façade- you’ll know it’s him the moment that you smell the blood, the bones, the wilderness. It’s clear that this is the scent of a killer, but at the same time, it’s a clear, *real* scent, of flesh and skin, and it feels less like an illusion, more like a reflection of what Akaza must have been like, once upon a time. Sometimes you think you can catch a faint tone of what might be citrus, and speculate that it’s a remnant of Hakuji.

Kokushibo:

He’s unnerving, because the particular uniqueness of his scent is that…he doesn’t have any. It’s as if he isn’t there, isn’t real, and your eyes are just playing tricks on you when you think you see him standing in front of you, while your nerves have just gone haywire if they think that they feel the solid mass of him under your fingers. Like a ghost. It’s fitting for him. He just doesn’t seem real. You’ll have to draw extremely close to catch a hint of anything at all, and then you might be able to pick up the faintest touch of a cool, soft fragrance. Something mildly aquatic. Reminds you of the damp night air. But again, it’s only just there, and you’ll probably never get the chance to make up your mind whether it was real or not.

Daki & Gyutaro:

Gyutaro’s scent is ugly. Acrid, acidic. Bitter as burnt flesh and sweat from the battlefield. He’s really not an individual you would want to smell in any way, shape or form. He smells poisonous, almost, as if his very presence would be enough to choke the breath out of you (and honestly, that’s not too far from the truth, is it?). The strange thing, however, is that if you manage to settle with his scent and grow accustomed to it, you’ll detect something that seems entirely out of place with the rest- a subtle but noticeable hint of cherry blossoms.

Daki smells sweet and pampered. Her scent is vaguely reminiscent of Douma’s, but a little less...airy, for lack of a better word. There’s a honeyed overtone of cherry blossoms that tends to linger wherever she goes, delicate and refreshing. Maybe a trace of vanilla. Her fragrance perfectly suits her masquerade as an oiran, but simultaneously, when she beckons to you and draws you closer to her, you’ll find that there’s something off, a dissonant note in the floral tones. It reminds you distinctly of burnt flesh.

Kaigaku:

He has a particularly odd scent- mostly something wholly metallic, like gunmetal, blood, blades rusted over. It’s not pleasant, but it’s interesting, the way it always lingers on him no matter what he does. It’s different from Akaza, whose ‘’true’’ scent just tends to get overwhelmed by the blood stench. Metal just seems seeped into Kaigaku’s very pores. No amount of washing will get it out. However, if you manage to get close enough- nose to nose or with your face buried in his shoulder, which is admittedly not a favorable position to be in- you’ll smell something distinctly fragrant, sweet and a bit fruity, mixing with the iron in a way that creates a profoundly confusing effect. It’s such a faint tone that you might not be able to figure out what it is immediately, but it’ll certainly throw you off. Kaigaku himself will react violently to any comments about that scent.

(Peaches, you might realize at some point. The sweet smell is peaches.)

Nakime:

Wood and spices. Her scent reminds you of old, grand furniture, dark mahogany, something close to pinewood. Rich and mellow, warm, mildly dusty. It’s tempered with added depth from herbal perfume in her hair and skin; sweet, dark, maybe just a little spicy. Rosemary is the closest bet to what it smells like, but you’re sure that that’s not actually what it is. There’s a touch of incense in there, too. She smells of old, antique things and eras gone by. It’s honestly soothing and makes you feel just a little too relaxed, even as you realize that you’re likely going to be killed by a demon within the next few minutes. Combined with the gentle music from her biwa, it’s a lovely, deadly recipe to lull you straight into the clutches of sleep and surrender.

Gyokko:

He wears a heinous amount of perfume. It’s not even one perfume; it’s a disgusting concotion of several. Nobody knows where he got them and nobody’s willing to ask, but the end result is interesting, to say the least. There’s some hints of musk in there, sharp, sour citrus, obnoxiously sweet florals (Jasmine is the closest bet, but it’s also mixed with everything under the sun from lavender to acacia to hyacinths), vanilla, cedar, anything and everything. Smelling it feels like being hit by a truckfull of perfume and might actually stifle you to death before he attacks.

(Underneath this, though, he honestly smells of very little. Maybe something damp and earthy, like clay from a riverbank.)

#Kimetsu no yaiba #Kibutsuji Muzan #Muzan x reader #Kibutsuji Muzan x reader #Douma #Douma x reader #Akaza #Akaza x reader #Kokushibou #Kokushibou x reader #Daki kny #Daki x reader #Gyutaro #Gyutaro x reader #kaigaku #Kaigaku x reader #Nakime #Nakime x reader #Gyokko #Gyokko x reader #Mod Eve #headcanons

[karoiseka]

Forgotten Home

Spoilers for End of 5.0-takes place 5.1-2 ish. ((This is finally digging into a bit more of Karo’s backstory.  I really took my time with this one, and am very proud of it.  Hope you enjoy!))

The Twelveswood felt different. That was the only way Karoiseka could describe it.  The First was saved, and she was back on the Source again, giving an update to the Scions still here, but had felt a pull to the woods just to the South of Camp Tranquil.  The forest giants of years past had given way to a younger growth bordering Thanalan, the warm air from the desert colliding with the cool shade under the trees.  She could feel Ardbert's curiosity at what they were doing there, paired with her own.  The paths she had walked most of her life held an extra forgotten meaning that was clawing its way back into her memories. This wasn't just a hunting trail, like so many others, there--beneath the tall oak--she could remember her first hunting kill with her new larger bow, a gift from-- 

There was almost a physical pain as the forgotten memory surfaced, almost an Echo manifestation, and she could see a snapshot of the moment, Seirlait--her Da--proudly standing nearby.  Her heart ached as she saw his face in her mind as clear as it had been that day. As clear as it had been when she had waved good-bye to them-both her fathers- a smile on her face as they headed out to help with the preparations for the clash at Carteneau as she stayed to look after the cabin.  How? How had she forgotten them? Da and Pa both, the memories assailing her senses as feet tore along the trail heading to a destination her mind had not reconciled yet. 

There- that tree had been so good for climbing.

The little stream that held such wonders to the small child she once was. 

That clearing holding the best herbs for the evening stew to be cooked over the fire.

Tiny fingers weaving a flower crown, placing it triumphantly on Feophaux's (Pa’s) head.

The boughs of a willow creating a curtain to play hide and seek in--learning more skills from both her fathers. 

The perfect reading nook nestled high in the treetops with just enough light.

Eyes unseeing of the present, Karo lived in the flashbacks of her past as every step closer to- closer to home.  The word burned in her mind as a beacon, blinding her to all else. Was this what she had been seeking all these years? Wasn't that the Rising Stones?  Hadn’t she found her other home in the Crystal Tower on the First?  She vaguely remembered in her unforgotten recollections the Highlander and Duskwight, eyes full of grief as they watched her escape the cabin that she had lived in after the Calamity--and before she now knew again.  The pain in their voices as they pleaded with her to remember them, and the anguish when she told them to stop calling her their daughter.  She left shortly after, headed to Gridania to find her own way, adrift with scant more than the short bow she had been teaching-reteaching-herself to use, and a small pack. 

The Calamity.  It had to have been the catalyst of the memory loss, for she could see clearly now that nothing but muscle memory and a vague sense of what felt right were all that had remained from before that fateful day.  Now she wondered what had changed again, even as the sheepish feeling from Ardbert guided her to an answer.  The shock of living through the initial seventh rejoining of souls must have triggered the amnesia in the first place, her mind blocking the trauma of the moment.  The acceptance and welcoming of Ardbert's soul to her own had healed all those splintered parts, even those that were unknown to her to begin with.  It had taken time to come back to her, and a slightly longer stay on the Source than she had taken in a long while, but now that the trickle had started, the dam was broken--her mind filled with all that she had forgotten.  Ardbert ensured that they didn't stumble through the frantic rush she made down the trail--not caring about the tracks she was leaving in her wake. 

Malms later, her feet stopped and past and present collided as her eyes saw again. The small cabin was sealed tight against the elements, and the overgrowth in the garden and clearing spoke of no one having tended to them for at least two years. The Bard fell to her knees, a low keening sound filling the air--she vaguely recognized it as her own voice, grief overwhelming her.  The run, much less the mental exertion, had taken a huge chuck of energy from her, and Karo wept, broken at the sight of her childhood home--empty.

As the sun crawled across the sky, Karo slowly took in the details of the clearing.  Not much had changed in the years since she had left.  The garden was overgrown, but the perennial plants fought for their place among the weeds.  The archery targets were still affixed to the surrounding trees, all at different heights, some now hidden from the growth.  Bluebells covered the small meadow, and she remembered stubbornly throwing the seeds all over instead of planting them in neat rows in the flowerbeds because they were her favorite and she couldn't see the flowerbeds from her bedroom window.  Looking carefully, finally pacing forward on shaking legs, Karo noticed that the cabin was carefully secured--just as it had been every time they had left for their summer journey.  The only thing that concerned her was that it looked as if they hadn't been back in at least one winter--maybe even two or three--not even passing through during the warmer months. 

Digging into her newfound memories, she spun and headed to the tree that was surrounded by the most bluebells.  The archery target there was still attached to one of the lower branches, but the Bard still had to climb a bit to reach it.  Fiddling with the back of it, the small compartment made itself known, and the prize ended up in her nimble fingers.  The front door key.  Jumping down, she forced herself to walk fully around the house, checking for any breaches that could mean that the house wasn’t secure, or that someone or something, was residing within.  Not finding even so much as something that would let a draft in, she braced herself and headed to the door.

The key slid into the lock, and only needed a slight bit of jiggling to get it to turn, the door itself stiff from disuse and the hinges creaking with the rust buildup.  Karo was hit with the sweet smell of dried lavender, vanilla, and sweet cedar; all the smells she remembered that hearkened to what home meant.  The curtains being drawn left the main room in shadows, the light from the doorway streaming into the air laden with the dust she had kicked up by entering.  The cabin was one main room split with partitions into areas for cooking, dining, and leisure.  There was a bedroom for her fathers off to one side, and a small bathing chamber on the other.  The tiny loft above the bath area had been hers to claim, curtains creating a small wall for her privacy.

Leaving the door open for the light, and to air the place out a bit, Karo started to open the curtains to let in more natural light before she looked around for any clues to where Seirlait and Feophaux had disappeared to.  Absentmindedly, she headed to the kitchen sink, and ran the tap for a few moments, letting the components loosen up and water to come back through the pipes since it had obviously been a while.  Grabbing a rag, she wet it with the first bit of water that came through, and wiped down the counters, removing the thin layer of dust that had gathered.  A quick peek at the pantry showed that beyond some items that kept for seasons, naught had been left.  That was normal enough, so she continued on to the all-purpose room.  The large fireplace on one end was one of two in the house that provided most of the heat in the winter, as well as some basic charms.  The wall was lined with books of all types, and one of the racks of shelves was full of supplies for writing, and hooks for instruments that had obviously gone wherever their owners were.  

Karo’s attention was pulled to her left, for there, lying on the table near the fireplace, was a folded piece of paper, her full name carefully written across it.  Hands shaking, she picked it up carefully, blowing dust off of it as she broke the seal on the back and started to read.

Dearest Karoiseka,

If you’re reading this, it means, we hope, that you have found your way back home and that beyond our wildest dreams that you have finally remembered all that occurred prior to Carteneau.  

After you left, we continued on best we could, despite missing you dearly.  We know that we had spent a long time at Carteneau helping to clean up and transport people all over Eorzea, but we had not anticipated you not remembering us at all or anything from your childhood.

Some time after you left, at least a year, we started hearing your name out of Gridania--how you were a bit of a local legend as an adventurer.  You had cleared out several dens of evil, and were becoming beloved by all that crossed your path.  Incredulous, we followed any scrap of information we could get, hearing about the Scion, Primals, and Garlean forces and your role in taking them down only made us fear for your safety.

Then came the accusations from Ul’dah.  None of which could be true.  Word of you dropped off except for hushed whispers, before rushing back in a whirlwind of fantastical stories of you bringing the Dragonsong War to an end in Ishgard.  We even made the trek to Mor Dhona hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but left before we did--partially because we feared you still wouldn’t recognize us.  We heard that you were part of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn there, and even talked with an Ironworks engineer who said he had worked with you before.  Knowing you were safe among friends eased our hearts for a bit as we headed home.

Another year passed and the uprisings in Ala Mhigo are now all that the city-states are talking about.  The Scions are said to be helping with the organization and negotiations , so we have decided to pack up for this year and help.  I know not if we shall cross paths while there, or if you will ever see this, but we must do what we can to help.  Not only for those that live there, but for you as well.  Knowing that we can hopefully take even a little of the burden off of your shoulders is all that we can hope to do.

We love you, and miss you, and pray that you stay safe and healthy through it all. 

~Da an Pa

A hot tear splashed onto the paper in her hands as Karo put together the timeframe that they had been gone.  They hadn't yet returned from the liberation of Ala Mhigo--and they had left near the beginning of the conflict, well over two years ago.  Considering they had taken almost five years to return from Carteneau, she shouldn't be much surprised.  They were probably helping courier refugees back home, and the wounded to the respective city-states.  She paced the length of the room, worrying for their safety throughout the conflict as well.  It had been extremely wide-spread with the Garlemald forces targeting anything and anybody they even thought were helping the Resistance.  She had seen it time and time again from the small villages and hamlets throughout the region in the aftermath as she tried to ease her own guilt from not being there for them and tried to help with the smallest of tasks from anyone who asked.  She knew logically she could only be in one place at a time, and that the forces she had been helping were the same.  If they hadn’t done what they had, there was a chance the country would still be occupied even now..

Had she seen them though? Walked right by with unseeing eyes?  Had they greeted her, only to get her strained public smile in return and a generic platitude--all that she could muster?  Had she passed by their graves not knowing who lay there?  She had talked to so many people all over the broken country, her mind raced, but all the faces were a blur.  She had spent plenty of time in Doma as well, not counting for all the travel back and forth, during that time-paths may have crossed, or may have been missed without even the chance of happening.  

Karo wasn’t sure how many times she re-read the pages, and wasn’t fully aware that she had curled up in the large armchair until the evening light hit her eyes streaming in from the still open door. Blinking blearily, she stood and lit a couple of the candles to provide some light in the growing dark.  The house had electricity, however, she didn’t feel like finding and turning on the generator quite yet.  She closed the door, and got a glass of water from the tap, scrounging for some trail rations that were still in her pack from earlier.  The Bard didn’t remember relinquishing her bow and pack at the door, but old habits die hard, and they were neatly hung by the door on the pegs meant for that very purpose.

Tucking the letter safely in her bag she cleaned up the small mess she had made and went to the washroom to clean her face of the salt-crusted tears that had dried there.  Not a thing had changed, towels and soap stored neatly away in the same places they always had been.   The vase on the sink, usually filled with wildflowers picked during the day, was empty for the time--and she longed to fill it and keep the room cheery, but knew not how long she would be there herself.  Responsibilities still loomed both here and on the First, her comrades bodies still laying still in the Dawn’s Respite.

As she climbed up to her loft, not much had changed since she had last been up here.  When her memories had first escaped her, she had stayed down in the main bedroom, not realizing that it wasn’t her’s.  The loft she had never quite gone up the ladder-like stairs, and so it remained very similar to when she last called it her own. The bed was made, but with an additional sheet covering it all to keep the dust off, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.  The hope that lived in her parent’s hearts nearly broke her own, as she caved to exhaustion finally, Ardbert’s comforting presence allowing her to drift off to sleep when she thought it was the furthest thing from her mind.  

On the morrow, Karo would write her reply and leave it where she had found her own letter, secure the cabin once more and return the key to it's hiding place.  She wouldn't forget again now that her soul was healed, yet her obligations would keep her busy, she knew.  When she had time, she would ask her various contacts, hoping beyond hope that someone has news, and if they didn't, that her note would be read, and that they would return once more to the Rising Stones, asking for her proudly by name. 

#ffxiv #karoiseka #karo's backstory #My writing #proudofthisone #I really like how the chair pose came out too #did that from scratch #I got a little lazy with the other shots #might redo them later #if I keep the apt set up like this #bought and decorated a whole apt just for some of those

[sky-arcobaleno]

The Bouloo Homestead

They say home is where the heart is. But what is home if the heart is haunted by the past?

I went of a description spree really. 

The Homestead Exterior:

Built of Southern Red Oak, the Bouloo Homestead stands at a gorgeous height of 28 ft. tall - Each story (2) being about 11 ft. tall.

With cedar wood shingles, a second-story balcony, and a full-coverage covered porch, the homestead is perfect for large families and beautiful pictures.

The full-coverage covered porch is made of the same Southern Red Oak as the rest of the house. However, the railings of the porch are made of wrought iron with a design similar to blooming wild flowers - a different flower for every support beam captured section {no section/flower is the same}

The Homestead’s First/Ground Level:

When you come in from the driveway, using the front yard’s gravel path, you enter the foyer using the half-glass, two-vertical panelled Oak door. You noticed how the doro had a half glass panel on each side, a flower design engraved in the glass on the door and panels. Yet, you can’t identify the flower.

Entering the foyer, your shoes hit wood hard flooring. It is Oak wood, with a gray finish. Taking your shoes off, you hop the one step and enter the living room, or as your Gam Gam called it - the Great Room.

You pad along the hard flooring and, in passing, look at the hearth. Encompassing the fireplace are heavy stones found from within the nearby woods. A fond smile appears as your eyes travel up the fireplace. The coarse rocks went up the ceiling of the first floor, through the second, and finally stopped on top of the roof, where a square copper-based chimney cap was mounted to keep away the elements from the fire below. Then you looked towards the road-side, where a window made of two double-hung and a picture frame was laid. Its view of the front yard meadow forces happy memories to your mind. Returning to the fireplace, you catch the sight of two more double-hung windows, one on either side. You forgot how much your Gam Gam liked the natural sunlight.

Returning to your tour, you look up right before you enter the kitchen. There, the upper floor’s wooden railing stood, protecting the top from the bottom. Your eyes gazed to your left. Behind the wall there were the stairs leading up.

Entering the kitchen, your feet remained on gray oak flooring. Examining the kitchen, you saw how there was a snack bar in place of the dining area. It was about 4 ft. tall, made of cedar wood with a wooden top. Passing the snack bar into the appliances zone, you raised an eyebrow at the MayTag logo. Your father had kept his word. Over the farmhouse sink was an awning window that extended outside. You followed the wooden countertop all the way to the refrigerator, where just a few feet away, stood the other outside entrance. It was a two-lite patio door, fully made of glass, with a white wood finish. Pulling the full curtain over the door, you turned towards your left, where the utility room was. It was sealed by a full-wood door.

Uninterested, you turned a bit more to your left and took the flight of wooden stairs up. Holding onto the wooden railing as you went.

On the Second Floor, you arrive at the loft, or study, as Gam Gam called it. There is a small entrance to the attic and the familiar wooden railing that looks down upon the Great Room. In the loft, there is a tiny pocket where a casement push-out window lays. Looking upon the wooden forest behind the homestead.

Walking along the gray oak flooring, you reach the master suite of the house. The master bedroom holds a walk-in closet with a single sliding panel door, a storage area pocket that also holds an attic entrance, a balcony, and of course, the master bath. You pass the king-size bed and open the glass doors with a simple push.

Amazed, you understand the balcony’s beauty. The door looks like a regular door, until you push in the middle, where it splits away, revealing to glass half-doors. Like a princess door. Your fingers trace the abnormal glass design. Unlike the flowers that were at the foyer’s doors, or the floral patterns of the covered porch railings, a mighty dragon soaring towards the sky was encrusted here. Turning away, you reach the edge of the balcony, where wrought iron railings guarded the fall. The design here was also atypical. Three sleeping dragons held up the railing, but encased each of the dragon was an empty case. As if something is supposed to be there, yet nothing was. Pushing away the urge to search, you returned inside, locking the balcony’s doors behind you.

Entering the master bathroom, the oak flooring finally changed to glazed ceramic tiles. Your anxiety lessened at the sight of simple glazed ceramic tiles. Looking at the shower, a hazed glass panel answered your unasked question. Looking to your right, the tub big enough for three hushed your fear. You would definitely fit here. Unlike that tiny apartment one. Shaking your head you passed the wide glass mirror that stood above the double sink with a wooden countertop. At least Gam Gam kept the theme through the whole homestead. Leaving the master bathroom, you looked at the tiny pocket where another double-hung window perched. Your gut dropped however, as you took a few steps towards it. This pocket was...no ordinary pocket you recalled. Sea-sunk memories arose, but you immediately left the room in search of present memories. The Homestead was both pleasant and unpleasant.

Returning to the ground level, you passed through the great room and foyer, entering the forest bedroom on your left. Immediately, your mind went to a happier place. This was your old, childhood bedroom. The peeling wallpaper of soft flowers was the tell-tale sign. You looked at the window facing the road. It was the bigger of the two the room had. This window, a glass block divided 2x3, was covered with a yellow-stained white sheer curtain. Turning to the other window, your heart seemed to fall beat in fondness. A tiny clay model of a little girl stood, holding a basket. Your child-self’s remodel of Red Riding Hood. She stood alone on the sill of the storm window Wiping away your tears, you left your childhood bedroom and went to the bathroom.

It, unlike the recent bedroom, was still in kinder condition. The single-person tub and shower was shielded by a plain tan shower curtain. The single sink, with a fracturing mirror, had rusting stains. Ceramic glazed tiles similar to the master bath reflected the soft white light bulb. With a brief reflection in the fractured glass, you see the reflection of childhood you. Carelessly smiling with a blue thumb print of her cheek and orange paint smeared down the right eye to her neck. Then, with another blink, she was gone. You left, turning off the light bulb.

Finally, you stood in front of the final bedroom. Your hand sat coldy and sweaty on the silver door knob. To open meant accepting. To keep close meant a good night’s rest. Taking a few minutes to breathe, recuperate, and settle racing thoughts, you grabbed the door knob and turned.

Inside the final bedroom, the same scene appeared like it did some many years ago. A full twin bed, with camo bedspread, a wildlife wallpaper, blocking sunlight from the two storm windows on either outside-facing wall, was a tree-canopy green curtain. At the bedside, a chest with a keyhole lock stood gathering dust . Feeling the chill of the hardwood flooring through your socks, you decide to leave the room without a final glance. It was like a deep cut was reopened and sea salt was rubbed into the squishy, bloody flesh in a hard, pressing motion.

Finishing with the homestead’s interior tour, you left out the foyer’s entrance. Now on the covered porch, you walked with your fingertips grazing the wrought iron railing. With the creaking of the wood boards beneath, you stopped at the back of the porch. Where a three-step stairwell led down to the grand backyard before the tall grass bloomed into the treeline, marking the forest’s turf. You stared at the mighty trees, who watched the homestead for a solid 6 generations. Without conscious thinking, you have reached the backyard stairway. Yet, it was the way the forest seemed to phase between real and magical that stopped you from taking the three steps. Your body was telling you that danger lurked within the wooden world only feet away. Turning your back on the forest, you returned to the road side of the homestead. Walking down the three-step stairwell, you walk back towards the gravel driveway. There, in front of your car, is the three-car garage.

It is made of Southern Oak Red wood as well, but the garage reflects the natural wood beauty. With a dark white finish and dark red wooden garage doors, the garage reflected the grandeur of the homestead. Each garage door had a sunrise window in the center and meticulously burned into each garage door was a name. The furthest left, ending with the symbol for earth, was the name Yia Bouloo. In the middle garage door, with a fire symbol, was Xiou Bouloo. Finally, the final door held the name Zaly Bouloo, written in a simple way, with the symbol of air at the end. You gave a soft, sadden smile before walking over to the driver’s door and entered your hand-me-down vehicle.

The Bouloo Homestead, a place of joyous memories and momentous griefs. As you back in reverse and quickly change to drive, you take a final glance in the rearview mirror. The Homestead stayed lit and happy. As if awaiting your next return. Yet, the way the shadowy forest rose behind it made you nervous. You couldn’t remember the last time the forest clung to the building. As if trying to hide secrets you should know. Yet, you didn’t know these secrets. At least not yet.

#description #second pov #an excerpt from a story i'll never write #should i continue? #home #homestead #ranchlife #magical world #secrets #not horror but scary #mc #Y/N #dragons #flower #scary secrets #writing no prompt #no beta #we die like men/women #please don't steal #Please dont hate #a classic but reversed?

[wellamarke]

It's been raining for 4 days and we're under a flood watch. Has it ever flooded at Fitton Farm?

Do you know, I think it has!

•••

“I’ve found the hole where the rain was coming in,” Arthur called down, voice only just audible on the ground over the rain thundering on - and through - the roof of the barn.

“Found it, or made it?” Douglas yelled back from the foot of the ladder.

“No, it was there before. I’ve just made it — easier to see.”

“Terrific,” Douglas murmured. “Down you come, then. It’s no use – we’ll just have to patch it when the rain’s stopped.”

“If it ever does,” added a bedraggled Martin, who was raking the best of the hay further from the corner of the barn that was more or less underwater. His progress was impeded slightly by Talisker the farm cat, who seemed to think his rake was a lively and interesting toy.

Arthur began the descent from the ladder, hurried along by an odd sort of creaking sound from the direction of the roof (up).

“What’s that?” Martin asked, looking up. Talisker took advantage of the stationary rake and sat down firmly on top of it.

Douglas followed his gaze. “Ah,” he said, with the peculiar kind of calm that came from the acceptance of fate, “Do you know, I do believe that’s the rest of the roof giving way.”

•••

Though he would certainly never admit to having over-exaggerated, Douglas did later concede that it wasn’t quite the rest of the roof that had collapsed, but rather the beam adjoining the one that had already gone, a few slats and the rough bit they’d patched on last summer to cover an existing hole. It amounted to one-third of the barn being laid open to the elements - which were currently pouring down in torrents - and a number of homeless and rather disgruntled animals.

Plus one slightly bruised Douglas, who had used his moment of clarity to twist Arthur’s ladder and push him nicely out of the way, only to fail to move even one step of his own volition.

“Thank goodness for Gerti,” said Arthur, wrapping his arms around the cow’s neck. “Douglas saved me, and she saved Douglas.”

“Yes, and she was the only one with enough presence of mind to not need saving herself,” said Carolyn, in a clipped tone that was undercut slightly by the towel she slung over Douglas’s shoulders.

Martin coughed. “Talisker and I were perfectly fine.”

“Well, but Skip, you two were under the bit where the roof was already gone.”

“True,” Martin allowed. “Good old Gerti.”

She bobbed her head in recognition, at least of her name if not the praise. Douglas grinned, and patted her flank. Truth be told, it was all a bit of a blur, but he gathered that at the crucial moment, as the other animals skittered sensibly to the other end of the barn, Gerti had instead approached and knocked him clean over, sending him sprawling out of reach of most of the debris. Between them, he and Gerti had intercepted one panel, but it was the old rotten one they’d tried to patch, so most of it was water-weight.

Absentmindedly, he removed the towel from his shoulders and used it to rub her down. Carolyn tutted.

“Right. Look alive, boys,” she said. “I’m not leaving anyone in that death trap of a barn overnight. Toby can stable with Hamilton, that ought to at least be entertaining, and some of the more docile girls might as well go in with the sheep. As for the others...���

“I’m sure Brill wouldn’t mind having a sleepover,” Arthur volunteered.

“That demon pony? Certainly not. She kicks.”

“Demon pony?” The wound to Arthur’s heart was evident in his voice. “Mum, she’s not, she’s lovely.”

“She doesn’t mean to kick as much as she does, perhaps,” Martin said mildly.

“Don’t side with Arthur, Martin, it doesn’t become you. Anyway, I’ve thought of a solution. Take the tractor out of its shed and put the other cows there.”

Martin was immediately alarmed. “But the tractor...”

“Can rust merrily in the sun for all I care, if this blasted rain ever stops. Go on, shift the metal monster, will you.”

“I haven’t got my driving gloves.”

“Oh, for— Martin. Go. And. Move. That. Tractor.”

Martin headed for the shed, still not looking pleased at the thought of his beloved tractor languishing in the rainstorm. The others set about dividing the cows into categories of ferociousness, with Arthur still spouting alternative plans.

“We did work it out that all the animals could fit on the ground floor of the house,” was his latest ploy. “Maybe just a couple of cows...”

“I think not. Right, then... Arthur, you wrangle that lot over to the tractor shed and have Martin help you settle them. Snoop and I’ll take mine up to the little barn. Douglas, frankly I’m not sure why you’re still here. Get yourself inside and put the kettle on.”

“I can help,” he protested.

“Yes, thank you. By having tea ready for us when we get in.”

Shivering with the combined effects of being drenched and slightly in shock, Douglas attempted to look dignified and sorely used as he ambled up to the farmhouse. A few of minutes later, from the kitchen window, he watched the three bedraggled figures returning, squelching their way across the thick mud. The kettle sang merrily from the stove, and the rain poured on.

“You cannot fold a flood and put it in a drawer,” Douglas remarked solemnly to Talisker the cat, who was licking herself dry over by the door. “Because the winds would find it out, and tell your cedar floor. Emily Dickinson, that. She forgot to mention what would happen to the roof.”

#cabin pressure #sorry this took a couple of days to get to hehe #is it still raining???? #fitton farm #my farm now #long post for ts