#magic trinkets quite possibly house in every corner

[spooky-nerd]

I Wrote an MSR Christmas Fic in September, Sorry

Christmas comes but once a year, or so he’s been told. Which means that he has 364 days (at least) to strategize. And yet, he never quite manages to be able to escape it.

He’s come close a small handful of times. A mere brush with victory followed by crushing defeat. In 1971 he was hospitalized with appendicitis on December 24. Unfortunately, the hospital gave out little teddy bears with santa hats that year to all of the children. In 1994, he tried lying low in his apartment, but Mrs. Sanders from across the hall had dropped off a fruitcake wrapped in red and green paper with a ridiculously frilled bow. The fruitcake had tasted horrible, but then that had been comforting, because he has never had a fruitcake that didn’t taste horrible and would find the very idea to be unsettling to say the least.

Twice he has nearly managed to avoid Christmas altogether. An almost impossible feat, and a coveted one amongst those who bemoan the holiday like he does.

He is not a grinch, as some would suspect, and his heart is not withered and cold. He does not have a propensity for stealing presents from under trees, and he has never once uttered the words “bah, humbug!”. He just does not care for Christmas.

This had come as a shock to Scully during their first year of partnership. She had whisked into the office on December 23rd in a cloud of merriment, smelling like peppermint and humming festively. “So, what are your Christmas plans?” she had asked innocently.

“Well, I’ll probably microwave some popcorn and watch Plan 9 From Outer Space,” he had said in complete seriousness. In spite of his delivery, she had laughed. Probably at the absurdity of it, which likely was obvious to outside observers, he had realized then. And yet, his world-weary soul had lacked the energy to care.

“You’re serious?” She had dropped the smile, and in its place was that frown of disappointment that he was rapidly becoming acquainted with. For some reason, he had felt a bit sheepish.

“Yeah, I’ve just never been one for the holidays.”

“But Mulder, it’s Christmas,” she had said, her incredulity ratcheting up impossibly higher.

“Oh I know, Scully. Trust me, I know. 104.9 started playing Christmas music in October. My building super put up tinsel in all the hallways on November 1st. I’ve been visually assaulted by this holiday on every street corner since the day after Black Friday. I know it’s Christmas. I just don’t really care.” He had shrugged, in case the rant came off a little too harsh. Not that Scully was easily intimidated. He was quickly beginning to learn that too.

She had shrugged, already poised to drop the subject. “Alright. Enjoy your popcorn, then.”

He had smiled. “Thanks, Scully.”

She had paused, turned back to him. He had gotten a whiff of peppermint again, and wondered if it was a new holiday perfume, or just the everyday magic of her. “You know, November 1st is a little early for tinsel.”

Looking back, it is possible that he had begun to fall in love with her then.

* * *

In the four years that Scully has been his partner, he has discovered that she has exactly one flaw: she loves Christmas. The music, the food, the gifts, the decorations, she eats them all up with a little festively-adorned spoon. At his request, she had refrained from stringing lights up in the office, but in exchange, he is forced to accept one Christmas gift from her each year.

Of course, he isn’t a monster, so every year, he buys her a present, too. Usually something quite ridiculous and useless. Their second Christmas together, he had bought her a mug depicting the entire cast of General Hospital. “It made me think of you,” he had said, to which she had raised an eyebrow and smiled, sliding her own present across the desk to him with false demureness. He had given her a suspicious look and ripped into the gift with exaggerated zeal, just to make her laugh. With delight he had pulled out a tie with little green aliens and flying saucers.

“Scully,” he had said, completely smitten. She had smiled and shrugged. He had decided that is was possible he didn’t hate gift exchanges as much as he had previously thought.

* * *

On December 23rd, 1997, he walks into the office and she is not there. It is not a surprise to him, but it is a blow nonetheless. She should be here, bringing him hot chocolate in addition to his morning coffee, placing a gift on his desk wrapped in ribbon so clinquant and overwhelmingly jubilant that it makes his eyes hurt. She should be here, making him dislike the holiday less and less with each passing moment. And if she can’t be here, he should be there with her. He calls Skinner and tells him he is taking a personal day. He does not explain further but he does not need to.

“Okay. Tell her I said Merry Christmas,” Skinner says.

“Thank you, sir. I will.”

* * *

Within an hour, he is at her doorstep with a hazardously overstuffed plastic grocery bag, a six-foot spruce that is growing heavier by the minute, and a gift wrapped in paper that had been sparkly at one time but has now transferred all of its glitter onto his coat.

It takes her a worryingly long time to answer the door. But she does eventually, looking completely drained, a sweater wrapped around her thin frame. She is cold all the time now and she never complains but it has not escaped his notice. She looks exhausted, but it stops his breath how beautiful she is all the same.

She is surprised to see him. Even more shocked by the one-man window display he has become.

“Mulder? What are you doing?” Confusion, but also a smile in her voice that he can see glittering in her eyes, too.

“I thought I’d bring the party to you, Scully.” He is still a little out of breath, but he smiles, and finally she laughs, melodic and joyful. She lets him in.

* * *

With the muted tones of Bing Crosby playing smooth and unobtrusive underneath, he makes them hot chocolate, dons a Santa hat, and gets to work decorating her tree. She sits on the end of her couch nearest him and opens up the little boxes of colorful Christmas ornaments, handing them to him one-by-one with delicate care. He gets tangled more than once in the Christmas lights, each time extricating himself in a flurry of limbs and curses. It’s worth it to hear her laugh. He wants to close his eyes and listen to the sound and pretend everything is okay.

When he is finished, she holds out her hands wordlessly and he helps her stand up. He wraps an arm around her and they lean against one another, admiring the finished tree. He wonders if she knows it means so much more to him than just a nice gesture. Her grip tightens around him in a brief hug.

“Mulder,” she says softly. “I don’t even know what to say. You really didn’t have to do all this.”

They are quiet for a moment. Bing Crosby sings that it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. He finds that he agrees.

“I wanted to, Scully. I wanted to be here. The office doesn’t feel right without you,” he says. “Besides, you would’ve done the same.”

She huffs a small laugh. “You hate Christmas.”

“No I don’t.” She looks up at him and he meets her gaze. “I don’t.”

* * *

Exactly one year later, she is safe and whole and mulling over a file, tapping an absent beat on their desk with her pencil. He bounds into the office, over-laden with a diverse assortment of ridiculous Christmas paraphernalia. He dumps it all on the floor in an unceremonious heap, shakes the snow out of his hair, and tosses her a goofy smile.

“Hey, Scully,” he says, out of breath. “Wanna help me deck the halls?”

When they are finished, the office has never looked more unprofessional. They couldn’t be prouder of themselves. Before she leaves for the night, she gives him his gift and a kiss on the cheek. Also very unprofessional, as is the alarming rate at which his heart is beating. It’s just about the only thing he can think about over the holidays, and that in itself brings clarity.

* * *

Her hand is icy where it settles atop his on the steering wheel. He risks only a brief glance in her direction. ‘It’s really coming down out there,’ he had said obligatorily about thirty minutes earlier, squinting into the critical sliver of light their headlights were slashing through the dark flurries of snow.

“Let’s stop for the night,” she says. He nods and gets off at the next exit without question.

They find a motel down a nearly deserted back road that makes them both touch the concealed weapons at their hips just for comfort. The attendant wordlessly accepts their cash and slides them a key.

“You know what’s messed up?” he says as he flops onto the bed after a cursory inspection for suspicious stains.

“What?” she says, rooting through her bag for their toothbrushes. 

“I don’t even know where we are.”

She sighs, a weary sound that he has gotten used to hearing in the months they’ve been on the road. Almost four months now.

“We are somewhere in the southern part of Kentucky. That’s all I know.”

“Scully,” he begins, the word absolutely riddled with guilt.

“Mulder, stop. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” They’ve had this small scrap of conversation several times. He keeps waiting for her response to change but it never does.

Silence except for her continued rummaging. Then, a triumphant “Aha!”

He peeks out from under the arm slung across his face. “What-“ He stops at the sight of her wearing a santa hat and holding a lumpy package wrapped in newspaper and held together with duct tape. She smiles and inclines her head triumphantly. The hat tilts adorably and the little pompom falls in front of her face. He laughs in spite of everything. In the spirit of the season, she joins him.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder.”

He shakes his head, in awe once again. “I love you.”

* * *

In an unremarkable house, in an unremarkable room, in an unremarkable chair sits a man. He is unremarkable in some ways and remarkable in others. He is holding in his hand a two-inch long replica of a Louisville Slugger that has been made into a keychain. A gas station trinket, unremarkable in some ways and remarkable in others. He turns it over in his hands and cannot help the smile that spreads across his face. It takes him back to a motel on a snowy night in southeastern Kentucky, and he has a mind to stay there awhile.

She walks in at that moment, wearing the most hideous sweater he has ever seen. After a moment of stunned silence he lets out a loud gut laugh. She smiles, spreading her hands in a silent ‘ta-da’. The sweater is red and green, and knit into it are alternating rows of Christmas trees, presents, wreaths, some colorful blobs that inexplicably might be potted ferns, and a pair of kissing reindeer, both of which have antlers.

“You look horrible,” he says, still chuckling. “I love it.”

“I found it at a Goodwill.”

“An ironic name for a store that would sell such an act of violence.”

She laughs. “I’m thinking of adding it to my regular rotation. I could get you one, too, and then we could match.”

“Well, people in town already think we’re crazy. Maybe it’s time to start leaning into it.”

She heads to the kitchen to make the hot chocolate, and he puts his hand in his pocket for the thousandth time that day, touching the small box like he’s afraid it will disappear. While she putters around the kitchen, he stares at the winking lights of their Christmas tree and gathers his thoughts.

Within minutes she is back with two steaming mugs filled much too full, sloshing dangerously. She sips a little out of both of them, burns her tongue, and hands him his. The mugs are hot. She pulls her sleeves up until only the tips of her fingers are peeking out and holds the mug that way. He watches the entire scene, completely enamored.

She throws herself onto the couch with a sigh and it is a Christmas miracle that she does not spill any of the hot chocolate on that horrendously festive sweater. He settles down next to her and sips gingerly from his mug, contemplating the mystery of those reindeer.

“Is it a misunderstanding of deer anatomy or a political statement, do you think?” she says, clearly reading his mind. He makes a mental note to open up an unofficial investigation into how she keeps being able to do that.

“All I know is it’s my favorite thing you’ve ever worn.”

“Aww. Thanks.”

“I am curious about those potted ferns, though.”

“Is that what they are?”

They wait there together, sipping and talking about everything and nothing until the hour whittles down to nil and the clock strikes midnight, Christmas Day. He puts an arm around her shoulders and marvels at the way her head fits so perfectly in the crook of his neck. He presses a kiss onto the top of her head.

“Merry Christmas, Scully.” He whispers it like a treasured secret.

She turns to kiss him. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers back. Then she is up, grabbing his presents. She is eager for him to see one of them, and has been carrying the secret of what it is around with her for weeks. She hands it to him first, and he makes a show of opening it agonizingly slowly. She rolls her eyes and shoves him gently until he picks up the pace.

“Oh wow, Scully,” he says softly when he pulls the tissue paper aside to reveal a vintage restored Polaroid camera. “Thank you. This…wow.” He runs a hand over the glossy surface appreciatively, and then points it at her. “Say cheese.”

Within moments, the photo of her completely unprepared and squinting painfully at the sudden flash develops.

“Ugh,” she giggles.

“I’m keeping it.” He slips it into his pocket before she can snatch it away. His knuckles bump the small box, and he swallows the sudden lump in his throat. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”

He retrieves the gift from under the tree and watches her open it. “Oh, Mulder,” she says, pulling the typewriter out of its box. He’d had to place an anonymous ad in the paper for that one. They had decided at the beginning of their life on the run that they would use only the most basic technology, which meant burner phones and nondigital alternatives. “It’s beautiful.”

It is. It’s an Underwood, glossy white, impeccably maintained. He’d paid a small fortune to a very old man for this one. They had met in a public park. He had paid in cash. The man had brought it in an old shoebox inside a brown paper grocery sack. The whole transaction had felt vaguely illegal. The man had looked at least 100.

“Thank you.” She gives him a hug. She smells like hot chocolate and peppermint. It reminds him of a Christmas many years ago. A conversation about why he didn’t like Christmas. Oh how things have changed.

“Actually, there’s one more thing,” he says when she pulls away. She raises an eyebrow. She hates to be outdone, especially on Christmas. Incredulity turns into disbelief when he pulls out the small box.

“Mulder,” she whispers. Her eyes fill with unshed tears when he gets on his knee in front of her, and if he’s going to make it through this, he cannot look at her.

“Scully, I-“ his voice catches immediately. He clears his throat. “I know that the past few years have been…well there’s no words for it. You are the only thing that has gotten me through. You’ve been there Scully, since the beginning you’ve been there and I- I can’t imagine my life without you. I want so much more for you. You deserve so much more, and I…I wish that I could give you more. But this is all I have to offer, Scully. This is everything I have. I want to grow old with you and, and love you and support you and laugh with you until the end of time. I promise to be faithful. I promise to have your back and to be there for you always.” He takes a shaky breath. “Dana Katherine Scully, will you marry me?”

He looks into her eyes, and he sees everything there. The love and devotion that had started small and fragile and had grown into something ineffably strong. He cannot imagine a life without this woman. Bing Crosby’s voice floats quietly over from the record player, singing about having a merry little Christmas. He wants a life with her, a thousand more little Christmases just like this one, filled to the brim with ridiculous, garish holiday cheer. She takes a deep breath, the words that will determine their future poised on the tip of her tongue.

“Yes. Of course I will.”

- - - - - - - -

Note: Btw, I wasn’t lying about that sweater

#txf fic #msr #the x files fanfic #the x files #Fox Mulder #Dana Scully #txf fanfic #msr fanfic #christmas fic #x files fanfic #mine

[escher-room-with-a-view]

elaborating on my autism headcanons!!

- sarah -

her special interests are usually between one and three. once she develops a special interest, it stays with her for years; in fact, some of her interests, like reading and writing, have been with her for as long as she can remember. her other special interests are theatre and arts and crafts; the latter is quite a broad category, but it includes things like sewing, felting, embroidery, watercolor painting, book binding, and making collages. sarah delves further into her interests the more they’re encouraged, but she also uses them as coping mechanisms to feel better about or distract herself from the real world around her. in the cases of acting and crafts, she uses these to express how she feels, whereas reading and writing are used more as forms of escapism. her favorite genre of literature is fantasy, though she doesn’t mind any particular fantasy subgenres and is willing to broaden her knowledge of the genre by reading most of them. meanwhile, she isn’t anywhere near as selective when it comes to theatre. so long as there’s a soundtrack and cast that resonates with her, she doesn’t care if it’s opera or ballet, tragedy or comedy, contemporary or dating back thousands of years. indeed, she doesn’t ever feel like her knowledge of theatre is complete—and while it feels unattainable, she’d like to develop at least a cursory knowledge of every play there is.

sarah stims by talking to herself, chewing on her lips or hair, pacing, doing needlework, doodling, and absentmindedly writing. she also has echolalia, repeating the same word or phrase to herself either out loud or in her head; certain phrases can get stuck in her head for weeks on end. she’s rather quiet when she talks to herself—in fact, most of the time, she just whispers or mutters. furthermore, when pacing, she walks in circles or back and forth. she doesn’t use stim toys very much because they don’t appeal to her, though she does like the idea of making her own stim toys and other objects, such as slime or reversibles.

her relationship with routine is complicated. on the one hand, she doesn’t take change well and has difficulty adapting to new situations, especially those that are unfamiliar and stressful. this means that, to some extent, she prefers it when things stay the same. however, this is more of a general status quo sort of sameness that she likes to maintain. on a smaller level, she’s easily bored by sameness and likes it when at least one novel or interesting thing happens each day. for instance, if sarah has gone to the same school her entire life, she’s going to be upset—even devastated—if circumstances force her to change schools without any sort of preparation or warning. however, if her commute to the school every day is identical, she’ll grow bored of it easily and may one day consider taking a different path there just to see what happens.

sarah tends to struggle with eye contact and, on the rare occasions that she wants to maintain it, has to force herself to do so. it makes her immensely uncomfortable to look someone in the eye for an extended period of time. while irene sometimes mistakes this for her not listening, sarah is trying to explain that it’s not something within her control.

she is hyposensitive to (and indeed fascinated with) colors and lights. however, loud noises bother her and can be painful for her. sarah also prefers not to be touched unless she initiates the contact first. being touched without her permission startles her and makes her immensely uncomfortable, as does being surrounded or cornered; all of these can easily overwhelm her in the right circumstances. she hates haunted houses for this exact reason. her hyposensitivity also extends to texture and physical sensations, albeit not in the same way; rather than being obsessed with or actively seeking out sensations and textures, sarah is so hyposensitive to both of them that she sometimes doesn’t even notice sensory input unless it’s excruciatingly painful or needs constant adjusting. her senses of taste and smell are neither above nor below what’s considered average, though she has a preference for sweets, white meat, and anything crunchy. 

something else that she and jareth have in common is the fact that their living spaces, specifically their rooms, both have to be organized in a very specific way. any alterations in this organization are bothersome and overwhelming to the both of them; this includes rearranging or removing objects, changing the location of the room entirely, or changes in things like how much light or air the room receives. 

- jareth -

he tends to have a lot of special interests at a time, and they change often. his current ones are architecture, illusions, astronomy, fashion, humans/anthropology/sociology, various pseudosciences, and surrealist art. however, in the past he’s been interested in ornithology, geology, romanticism in art and literature, the labyrinth’s prehistory, wordplay and rhetorical/literary devices, cats, different types of governments, letter writing, collecting trinkets and antiques, choreography, and many, many more. living for such a long time has provided him with the opportunity to both develop and engage in a wide variety of passions. in fact, some of these past special interests still remain with him today and simply aren’t considered his “main” ones anymore because they’re not as strong.

his favorite pseudosciences are graphology, phrenology, and astrology. he also likes to try and determine the future via methods like alectromancy, astromancy, augury, scrying, and lithomancy.

he stims using crystals/via contact juggling. this is usually when he’s understimulated, absentminded, or just needs something to occupy himself with. it’s also enjoyable to him. he has other ways of stimming, though, many of which are meant to self-soothe. for instance, feeling nervous or excited might drive him to shake one leg or hand; he also feels compelled to chew on things in such instances. when overwhelmed, he scratches his arms as one would if they had an itch. jareth is trying to stop doing this and is thus looking for alternatives. he views stim toys as some of humanity’s greatest inventions. if he lived aboveground, i imagine he’d have different versions of the same stim toys for different purposes: neutral colors when he needs to prevent overstimulation, bright colors when he’s just stimming because it makes him happy.

he doesn’t mind loud noises, but he is sensitive to bright lights and colors. in fact, he’s so nonchalant toward noise that, when he listens to music, he likes for it to be as loud as possible. in his mind, good music is never quite loud enough. there are certain textures and tastes he doesn’t like, which drives him to be very selective with what he wears and what he eats. with regards to clothing, he likes silk and leather but can’t stand wool, denim, anything baggy or distressed, or velvet. because he conducts magic through his hands, he has sensitive palms; his gloves allow him to touch things without being bothered by them, while also allowing him to use magic undeterred. he’s especially sensitive around food, preferring things that are bland or savory and refusing to eat anything with a consistency that’s too soft. for instance, he finds eggs revolting in most forms.

without a routine, jareth tends to become dejected or burnt out. unfortunately, though, his frequent executive dysfunction makes it difficult for him to plan out and adhere to routines without frequent reminders—which, when they come in the form of goblins, usually annoy him more than anything else. this is why he hasn’t had a proper schedule in years. it’s a bit of a vicious cycle; his unhappiness has led to a lack of motivation, and his difficulty creating something he can stick to has made him even more unhappy. he works best with clear, written instructions that are placed where he can see them. he especially needs specific times to eat and sleep; without them, irritability and physical discomfort set in. in the event that he does have a routine, changes that might seem small to others are often nerve-racking to him.

though he sometimes uses eye contact and close proximity to others to intimidate, he genuinely feels uncomfortable without eye contact and has difficulty remembering to mind others’ personal space most of the time. he can be quite touchy-feely when he cares about someone—even platonically—and isn’t afraid of showing it, but he doesn’t really know when or if to back off unless explicitly told to.

- didymus -

when it comes to special interests, he and sarah have a lot in common. they both love drama and literature; however, didymus has a particular interest in folklore, both that of humans and that of the labyrinth. he only has two special interests: literature (including plays) and history. both of these influenced his desire to become a knight and continue to influence his behavior, as he seeks to emulate the idea of a noble and valiant knight to a T. he has some difficulty responding appropriately to or understanding various social cues. as a result, he spends most of his nights and some of his mornings scripting out how his day is going to go: how he’s going to speak to other people, how they might respond to him, and how he’s going to respond to their responses. whenever didymus makes a new friend, he puts effort into studying their mannerisms and personality so he can adequately pinpoint how they might behave toward him and thus figure out how he’s going to interact with them. furthermore, he speaks and acts like a gallant knight from a fairytale or play because of his constant reading. his consumption of literature provides him with a consistent model of behavior that’s bound by a set of rules, unlike the behavior of people in the real world—which can often be unpredictable, and whose rules are less coherent. as a result, didymus believes that emulating the kinds of characters he admires will make others admire him in turn, and make him easier to understand. 

his favorite earth authors are william shakespeare, miguel de cervantes, and alexandre dumas. he is also especially fond of arthurian legend and various human mythologies, such as norse, celtic, and japanese.

one of his favorite ways to stim is by chasing or wagging his tail. he also stims by absentmindedly practicing swordfighting moves with his cane, scratching behind his ear with a hind paw, pacing, and talking to himself. pacing is the only one out of all of these that doesn’t lift his spirits; rather, he does it when he’s thinking because it helps his ideas flow. didymus is most inclined to chase his tail or scratch his ears when he’s bored, practice his parries when excited, and talk to himself when he’s overwhelmed. in the last case, this is often combined with pacing; together, both stims provide a good release for emotions he has difficulty expressing otherwise. when didymus talks to himself, he is unlike sarah in that he doesn’t do so quietly. his volume remains the same as it usually is in a conversation; when he grows passionate, it raises accordingly. sarah introduced him to stim toys; his favorite ones are the ones that make noise, whether they click or woosh or do something else. he also uses dog toys as substitutes and enjoys the ones that squeak, though he has to keep his own set somewhere where ambrosius won’t find it.

his strongest sense by far is his sense of smell; it isn’t necessarily a lot of scents at once that can be upsetting for him, but rather scents that he finds unpleasant. these include sharp or chemical smells such as vinegar, ammonia, spices, perfume, citrus, alcohol, cleaning products, and herbs. aside from these, there aren’t any smells he can confidently say he doesn’t like. he also has hypersensitive hearing and prefers soft classical music, hymns and chants, or music that dates back thousands of years. he hates the sound of bells chiming, loud drums, or thunder; the last of these especially bothers him, though he would never admit it. he was once bothered by the sound of metal objects clanging together when he was a kit, but he appears to have outgrown that in particular. he has poor color vision, as do most canines, so bright colors don’t affect him at all. he finds flashing lights mildly frightening in some cases and annoying in others.

to didymus, routine is the thief of joy. he craves adventure every day and hates when things are the exact same; even having to do the same task in the same way as he did the day before, for instance, is enough to bore him out of his skull. as a result, he likes to mix up how he does things by placing his daily activities in different orders, doing them with his friends, or replacing some activities with others entirely. for instance, he, hoggle, and ludo take turns with household chores—not only so that they can share responsibilities, but so that didymus can have time to go off and pursue his knightly dreams. much of the time, his friends are willing to accompany him on his adventures so long as he’s able to keep them safe—and so long as they can be home by dinner.

he doesn’t really like eye contact, but he tries to maintain it because he thinks doing so is respectful. he does see one perk to his small stature; he’s too short to meet eyes with most people, so his lack of eye contact usually isn’t judged. it wouldn’t be either way because almost everyone in the labyrinth either is ND or knows someone who is ND, but he really does want to maintain eye contact because the books he reads make him think that it’s the proper thing to do. his friends are trying to convince him that he doesn’t need to make eye contact if it makes him uncomfortable; however, because he seems to believe that it’s a rule, he has difficulty convincing himself not to follow it. in fact, didymus is very much inclined to follow the rules that are provided to him and becomes anxious when encouraged or required to break them. without clear rules, the world becomes nonsensical and unpredictable—and therefore upsetting—to him. it was his idea to propose a set of rules for his friends’ home; they accepted and have worked together to write them down so that guests know how to behave.

he gets along really well with the wiseman; despite his typical impatience, didymus is one of few people who actually have the patience to listen to the wiseman. in fact, didymus isn’t just patient with him; his ramblings actively intrigue didymus, and whenever he has the opportunity he makes his contributions as big as he possibly can. didymus really appreciates it when his friends let him infodump, and he figures it’s only fair that he should let others do the same. in fact, didymus also places a lot of value on fairness; it’s the whole reason he opposes jareth in the first place.

#labyrinth #labyrinth headcanon #long post #sarah williams #jareth #jareth the goblin king #didymus #autism headcanon #autistic headcanon #neurodivergent headcanon #nd headcanon

[welllpthisishappening]

falling feels like flying ['til the bone crush]

Someone should revoke her title. 

They’re trying, Emma supposes. Inevitable death probably means people can’t call her savior anymore, but they shouldn’t call her that now and that’s almost entirely because of what an absolute and complete liar she is. Telling Killian she would have done the same after he admitted he didn’t get rid of the shears isn’t her most massive lie, although it might be her most ridiculous. And they both know it’s not true. She wouldn’t do the same thing, she has. More than once. 

AN: That gif has nothing to do with the story! Here is approximately 3.5K where I once again force Emma and Killian to acknowledge their trauma. Not in the Underworld this time, though! So maybe we’re all evolving here. I blame this gif set, which I saw this morning and felt compelled to write something about. Maybe that evolution is also a lie, actually. 

———

“I lied.” Killian hums, exhaustion clinging to the sound, and Emma understands that. Less so why she’s talking right now, but neither one of those words seemed particularly interested in preserving the quiet calm of this particular moment, and she’s never been a lightweight quite like this. In more ways than one, she supposes. Hazy thoughts drift through her brain, muddled as it is by buttered rum and the steady flicker of flames in the fireplace because naturally this is the sort of house that has multiple fireplaces, and she burrows her face closer. 

To Killian’s chest. 

Takes a deep breath, not quite slow, but maybe a little greedy, and they ordered both things. Pizza and Chinese, half-finished egg rolls and beheaded slices of cheese with extra peppers strewn across the coffee table because Emma always likes that extra bit of crust and Killian’s nothing if not a frustratingly endearing sort of pushover. 

With her, especially. 

She closes her eyes. 

“I lied,” Emma repeats, “in the hospital, I mean. Wrong verb tense.” “You’re not making any sense at all, darling.”

Her nose must be cold — if the way Killian tenses as soon as it brushes his skin is any indication, but Emma knows it’s far more than that and far deeper than that and she might be the world’s biggest idiot. Looming death does that to a person, she supposes. 

Breathing isn’t particularly easy. And that’s not only because she ate four pizza slices worth of crust. Still, using death as an excuse again seems like an emotional crutch and an unreasonable reason, her muddled mind capable of clinging to every single letter in that particular endearment. It might be her favorite. 

She’s not sure she’s ever told him that. 

Stupid, really. 

“I told you that I get it; what you did today, and that part’s definitely true. But, uh, the rest of it. That I would have done the same thing? Total lie, right? I mean, I did it. That’s what happened.” Nothing. Just flickering flames and the quiet hum of a TV, neither one of them has been interested in actually watching all night. Emma doesn’t even know what channel they’re on. For all she knows, the remote’s in the kitchen. 

She counts inhales. Tries to keep her exhales measured, most of her face still pressed into the collar of Killian’s shirt as it is. And it takes about five full seconds before his hand moves, starts tracing a calm line up her spine, following that path until he reaches the base of her neck and the goosebumps that have already exploded on her skin and oxygen is overrated anyway. Holding her breath as soon as his fingers card through the ends of hair is basically instinct at this point. 

“Felt wrong to point that out at the time,” he mutters, “all things considered.” “Been kind of a long day.” “Reuniting with long-lost relatives will do that.” Scoffing is not the best reaction. Nothing about this is funny. Includes far too much death and dismay, and Emma’s gaze flickers up. Of its own accord and something much deeper, like the absolute refusal to accept a world where he does not exist. 

Goddamn Captain Hook. 

She loves him so much sometimes she thinks she’ll simply burst with the force of it all. 

It’s a gross thought, honestly. 

And they’ve already spent far too much time in the hospital today.

“Is he ok? Li—” Cutting herself off, Emma grits her teeth, but one side of Killian’s mouth is already tugging up, and the kiss that lands on her forehead is as soft as anything. Maybe bursting isn’t so bad, actually. So long as she can come up with another word for it. “God, that’s so weird.” Killian hums. “Indeed.” “Thoughts, feelings, et cetera?” “Vast. And none of them particularly pleasant.” “Seems fair. That sort of day, huh?” “Indeed.” They need more blankets. Need more things that are theirs in a collective sort of way, but that’s a dangerous and disingenuous train of thought, and Emma’s fingers twitch towards the fire. To ward off the sudden chill that’s settled between her shoulder blades, and it almost works, but it does absolutely nothing to help the sway of her stomach and the acid lingering in the back of her throat, threatening to burn far more than what these meager flames are able to do. 

“Should have finished high school,” Emma mumbles, “then I could choose more accurate verb tenses from my inevitably vast vocabulary. Did. Have done. Would do again, several thousand times over.”

“That’s the future tense.” None of his words come with any kind of pointed emotion, but Emma hears it all the same. Can see the tightness that lingers in the corners of his mouth and the way he’s holding his shoulders, straight as a line, and some joke about rigging that she no intention of making, and the furrow between his brows makes every muscle in her chest twist. Ache too, for good measure. 

With the promise of everything she wants to say and everything she hasn’t or can’t and—

Fuck magic, quite honestly. And the rules no one’s bothered to mention until now. Seems like poor planning on everybody’s part. 

“You heard me.” “I did,” Killian agrees lightly, and his hand has never actually stopped moving. It’s nice. Steady. Something Emma can almost nearly time her breathing too. “I would also choose that particular tense. If given the choice, that is.” “Do you not think you have that?” “I don’t particularly enjoy the thought. I’m rather partial to the option of whim, you see. Pirate and all that. We don’t much abide by schedules and fated decision.” “Seems like it’d be in the by-laws.” “Well, by-laws by their very nature are rather contradictory to the entire pirate notion, but you’ve got the gist of it at least.” Emma laughs. Doesn’t quite regret the sound, even as out of place as it is — just presses it into the edge of Killian’s shirt and the buttons he never bothers to do, trying to brandh the smell of him and the feel of him into every corner of her memory and she’s not really sure what happens after. Once the prophecy is fulfilled, and all that. 

She’s got too much unfinished business. 

To totally leave this particular plane of reality. 

She doesn’t mention that either. Not when the crux of that business is breathing steadily under her hand, and Emma can’t remember when she moved her hand, only that Killian’s warm under her touch, and he’s always so much warmer. Than just about anything else she’s aware of. 

“I thought you were dead.”

Of all the things Emma expects to happen in the midst of this night and this moment — and it’s really not a very long list, admittedly — that did not even make the cut. Wasn’t a consideration or a fledgling idea in the back of her mind, several different vertebrae almost audibly objecting when she jerks her head up. To find Killian staring straight ahead, lips not much more than a thin line across his face. 

Seriously, the rigging jokes almost write themselves. Which is more than Emma can say about her clearly piece of shit list, as metaphorical as it might be. 

“I don’t—” “—When I saw you,” Killian interrupts, and none of the words shake. Come out like a stream of consciousness and memories neither one of them have able to shake yet. Or talk about. Can’t possibly be healthy. “Chained to that stone, blood dripping into my mouth, and then all of a sudden, there you were. Worried I’d simply dreamt you up, couldn’t imagine how you looked quite that lovely in that hell hole, otherwise.” “Oh, that’s kind of insulting, actually.” “Hair like the bloody sun.” “Better,” Emma murmurs. Reaching up, her fingers tangle with the charms around his neck. Pieces of luck and trinkets she hasn’t learned all the stories to yet. The idea that she won’t makes her nauseous. “You told me ‘you shouldn’t be here.’” “Aye, and I meant it.” “Because you thought…” “Living people don’t often appear in such a God awful place, do they? Not without something tragic happening, and my mind was impressively efficient on that front.” “Which one is that?” “Every threat that’s ever lingered, every person I would have gladly run through if it meant you were safe. Half of goddamn Camelot.” Emma might snicker. Killian’s arm tightens, though. And that’s all she’s really worried about. “I think I could have taken Arthur. Y’know if it had come to that.” “Likely not a very good swordsman,” Killian nods, but that’s only so his lips can trace Emma’s temple and the top of her hair. More than once. Like he’s still making sure. “Pampered prince—” “—He was totally a king, babe. That’s like...the most basic Camelot knowledge.” “Ask me in five minutes if I care at all about anything to do with Camelot.” “Should I time it, or…” He scoffs. Presses another half dozen kisses to any spot he can reach, and he can actually reach a fair amount of places. Emma’s impressed. Swooning too, but also pretty impressed. “I kept thinking about you,” Killian says, softer than the last few words have been, and it sounds like an admission and another promise, and it’s weird that it can be both. At the same time. “This house. What it was and wasn’t. All those possible verb tenses.”

“I’m sorry.” “Ah, that’s not your fault, love. None of this is, really, but—well, it did make it so seeing you, realizing you were there...left all of those thoughts crashing down around my ears, so to speak. Falling apart, like an avalanche of what hadn’t been and what I still wanted so desperately. No matter what Hades did.” “Stupid stubborn.” “I believe there’s something about a pot and a kettle in this realm.” “Don’t have that cliche in the Enchanted Forest, huh?” “Not that I’m aware of, no.” “Maybe you just didn’t go to a good college.” “Tell me every Greek word you know,” Killian challenges, and Emma rolls her eyes. Ignores the first few flutters of a headache brewing at the base of her skull. “It didn’t seem fair.” “Which part?” “All of it is also rather vast, but mostly that if you were there, then it happened again.” Narrowing her eyes, Emma tries to piece together those letters and the syllables they make, only to be marginally annoyed when she can’t make sense of them. Killian kisses the bridge of her nose. 

She might have to go get Tylenol soon. 

“Losing you without fighting, without challenge the goddamn reaper myself, was worse than anything He could have done,” Killian continues, and he doesn’t have to be more specific. “Worse than whatever pain I’ve ever suffered. Cut off twenty more limbs; it wouldn’t even come close.” “Do you have that many?” “Your humor lacks a little something; you know that, Swan?” “It’s a defense mechanism.” He noses at her hair. Drags the soft hum of what could very well be either an agreement or the opposite, or maybe even the sort of deep-rooted understanding that’s allowed him to sneak his way into the center of everything, across her skin. The specifics don’t matter, only that Emma’s magic roars under her skin, an inferno, and a symphony, meeting the challenge that no one has really laid down yet. 

“Do that again,” Killian mutters, a low chuckle as Emma’s scratches at his side. 

“I’m not sure I can, honestly.” “Pity.” “Something like that, yeah. And you’re not totally right, you know?” “Ah, and that’s almost rude.” “I’m serious,” Emma says, “that’s—none of that was your fault either.” Tilting his head only ensures that several strands of hair he still hasn’t bothered to cut fall almost artfully across his forehead, and Emma is grateful to a variety of gods, Greek or otherwise, that Killian doesn’t mention how much her hand shakes. When she tries to brushes them away. His hook finds her wrist instead, cool metal against freezing cold skin, and the state of her tongue is going to be a problem. Large as it is in Emma’s mouth, making it all but impossible to properly swallow while Killian’s lips sweep the bend of her knuckles. 

“Charmer.” “Aye, that’s my endgame.” There’s not enough room between them for him to run his hand across his face like Emma knows he wants to, and part of that isn’t really a bad thing, but the rest just seems like another entirely unfair thing, and Emma knows the rest is coming. Makes tears burn her eyes all the same. “They were just...gone, you understand? No chance to do anything about it. One moment they were living and breathing. Then Liam was dead. Slumped in my arms in the corner of a cabin he was supposed to spend the rest of his career in. He—he would have been a very good captain.” “So are you,” Emma says, fierce and determined, and Killian kisses in the inside of her palm. She’s moved her hand again. To cup his cheek. 

“For a time, maybe. But then she was gone too, and I thought I could feel it, you know. The exact way her heart crumbled in his hand, tiny bits of dust that I never wanted to blow off the deck. Like some of her still managed to stay. Is that—” The muscles in his throat move, jaw clenching, and Emma has to blink. She hopes the moisture on her cheeks isn’t tears. She’s not sure what’s a better option, really. “Must sound daft.” “No. I—I get that too.” “Do you?” “Not the only one who’s watched Rumplestilskin hold the heart of someone you loved.”

He can’t be holding his breath. His chest is moving much too quickly, but the burst of air that all but flies out of Killian is enough to ruffle the ends of Emma’s hair and possibly even dry some of the tears she’s still refusing to acknowledge, and she can’t get closer to him. 

She makes an admirable effort all the same. 

Like occupying the same few inches of space will ensure that she stays there. 

“Did you—” Killian starts, looking almost pained as the words war for his voice on the tip of his tongue. “Did you like her?” That didn’t make the list, either. It’s entirely possible that Emma is just garbage at making lists. She nods. “Anyone who loves you as much as I do is fine with me. Better than, even.”

His expression shifts again. Light lingers in his gaze, cautious hope, and misplaced optimism, gears whirring in his head that Emma can’t almost convince herself she hears. Her verb tense was on purpose that time. 

That’s a confidence boost, all things considered.

“She was something fierce,” Killian says, sounding reminiscent and not as sad as Emma has worried he must be. “Once she got away from him. Could get a grown man to do her bidding with a single look, the kind of glare that’d set you on fire from the inside out. It was—they loved her too. Men on the ship, would have followed her to the ends of the Earth if she’d asked. Probably even if she hadn’t.” 

His next inhale becomes an exhale almost immediately.

“She never would have asked,” Killian adds, almost entirely to himself, but then his eyes are back on Emma, and they’re a little glossy and just as blue and she’s holding her breath now. “She liked you too, I know it.” “I think she thought I was crazy, actually. Gold didn’t really have much tact in the...introductions.” “Ah.” “Right?” “Right,” he echoes, a pale imitation of her voice that makes Emma’s cheeks ache. From smiling. Legitimately smiling. Huh. “But I suppose that’s part of it, though. She was there again, and I—” “—I’m sorry. For...for all of it.” “Still not your fault, love.”

“How did you know?” she asks, and her voice doesn’t sound much like her either. Wobbles and warbles and some other word that fits the alliteration. “About me. And not being…”

“Dead?” Killian’s eyebrows jump. “Strawberries.” “Excuse me?” “That soap you use in your hair. Smells like strawberries, or strawberry adjacent maybe. Manufactured just a bit. I think it’s my favorite smell in the world.” “Backhanded compliment.” “No, no,” Killian shakes his head. His hair moves again. “It’s not. It’s—well, it’s you, love. Smells like everything that you are and—”

“—I’m manufactured?” “If you let me finish,” he chides, and Emma all but yanks her lips behind her teeth, “It smells like home. Smells like falling asleep next to you and a distinct lack of blankets.” He nips at the tip of her nose. She scoffs again; that’s why. “And your distractingly cold feet, and leather jackets, and how the smell clings to the collars, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve worn them. Lingers on your pillow too, and the fronts of my shirt. You fall asleep against me quite often, you know that.” “Can sleep anywhere,” Emma reasons. “Might be my greatest talent.” “I don’t know about that.” “If I call you charmer again, will you hold it against me for lack of synonyms?” “Tell me how charming I am again.” Emma scrunches her nose. “Now it sounds like my dad.” “Let’s leave the prince out of this. He’s only a prince, aye?” “Far as I know, yeah.” “Good, good. Strawberries, love. Touching you helped too, though. If we’re being frank.” “Anything except blunt force honesty seems silly now, doesn’t it?” Killian nods. Slow and measured, like anything else will snap this tenuous peace, and maybe they can just sleep on the couch. Getting up is an impossible prospect right now. Maybe they can make out a little before they fall asleep. 

“It’s a very big house,” Emma whispers, and they should really figure out a schedule for conversations like this. Talking about it all at once is exhausting. 

“It is.” “You don’t want to expand upon that?” “Oh, I want a great number of things I shouldn’t,” Killian admits, “but as much as I appreciate this fresh round of honesty we’re engaging in, the false hope would—” “—There’s no such thing,” Emma interrupts. “False hope. It’s an oxymoron, ask my mother. And I think you should get some sort of crew again.” “How would you suggest I populate such a thing?” She shrugs. Nearly hits Killian in the chin in the process. “Untold stories. Dwarves.” “I will not have dwarves on my ship.” “See, I knew you’d have opinions. And there was a possessive pronoun in there that time.” “Was there not before?” “No,” she says. “Just called it the ship. Like it’s not the most important thing you have.” “Well, it’s not.” Emma’s cheeks warm. “That was very smooth.” “Someone did guarantee I was a very good captain earlier.” Space continues to be relatively minimal between them, but Killian’s nothing if not adaptable, and he works with what he’s got. Swinging Emma’s legs perpendicular over his, she’s nearly sitting on his lap, an arm slung over his shoulders, which makes it even easier to get her fingers into his hair and his head to rest against hers, and he takes another deep breath. “I know you understand, Emma,” he says, soft and serious, and she doesn’t bother doing anything except cling to him. With everything she’s got left. “All of it, from the very start. So I don’t think I’ll apologize, actually. For what I’ve done, or what I’d still be willing to do. I won’t give up on you, do you understand me?” “Didn’t,” Emma says, only a little optimistic that’s the right verb tense. Maybe she can get her GED, or something. Before all of this ends. “In Camelot, or after. Accept or acknowledge, and I probably would have—” 

Announcing that killing Gold for what he’d done to Killian regularly crossed her mind in the twenty-four hours or so before they finally made it to the Underworld doesn’t really have the right sentiment for this conversation. Far too violent, and just as honest. 

She’d consider killing him now, too. 

For everything he’s doing, and everything he hasn’t, and she should have shoved him in that river. 

Killian doesn’t smile. At least not in a way that reaches his eyes, the same ones that are looking at Emma again, all blue and earnest, and his shoulders shift. When her fingers graze his chin, more than stubble there because, she imagines, spending a day or so underwater with a sibling he only sort of wants and kind of knows doesn’t leave much time for facial-type grooming. 

It’s a good look, though. 

Most of them are, in Emma’s experience. 

“This entire time,” she continues, “you haven’t given up on me yet.” “Works both ways, darling.” “That one crosses realms, huh?” “Pick up things spending so much time with you.” There’s nothing extra in the words. No sap-filled sentiment or promises she’s only a little hopeful will become actions. And they haven’t talked about the rest; might not even have time, but Emma will let herself think about all these empty rooms anyway, of the exact shade Killian’s eyes go when he stands at the helm, and she hopes he doesn’t cut his hair. Not yet, at least. Longer strands make it easier to touch him, to leave a lasting mark, and settle into his center the same way he’s taken root in hers. 

They fall asleep on the couch. 

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #laura writes canon #force characters to talk 2k4ever #also remember when i wanted to write about killian not getting to see milah in the underworld? #have some of that here too #just for fun

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: Fall Showers

Part 8 of the Moonlit  Masquerade Series

She hears about it at the market on Monday after school.

Amity has to go home straight after school, so Luz teleports herself to the market, in no rush today to head straight home. She's browsing a stand, looking over an assortment of magical trinkets curiously when she happens to overhear two people standing nearby talking.

"So are you taking her to the 'fall shower' tomorrow night?" One asks.

"She'd never let me hear the end of it if I don't. It's the 'most romantic thing a couple can do together'," the other quotes, rolling his eyes.

Luz pays closer attention to those words.

"Girls are so sappy…," the first chuckles and they walk off.

Luz hums to herself and finishes her browsing before hurrying home to ask Eda about this 'fall shower'.

Her pseudo mom is strewn haphazardly across the couch with a magazine laying open over her face when she gets home.

"Hey, Eda!" she calls when she bursts through the door.

"What?" she grumbles, but otherwise doesn't move from the couch.

"What's the 'fall shower'?" she asks as she sets her bag on the floor by the door.

She reached up and pulled the magazine down to her nose to regard Luz with tired, dual-colored eyes.

"Where'd you hear about that?" she asks, voice muffled by the magazine still sitting halfway on her face.

"In town, some guys were talking about it being some big romantic thing," she says. Eda grunts, head lolling to the side to better look at her.

"Yeah, it's a couple… thing." She waved a hand, before pulling the magazine back up over her eyes.

"That didn't tell me anything…" Luz frowned at her.

"Go ask Lily." is the muffled reply.

"Ask me what?" Lilith chose that moment to walk into the living room, some books held under her arm.

"What's the ‘fall shower’?" Luz turns to her.

"Ahh, you heard about that." Lilith smiles, walking over to the couch and using the books to sweep Eda's feet out of the seat on the end to sit.

Eda grumbles, shooting her sister a dirty look as she sits up.

"The Fall Shower is a meteor shower that takes place around this time each year," Lilith explained as she arranged herself on the couch.

"So, what makes it so romantic?"

"The legend behind it is that long ago two lovers, kept apart by circumstance would meet under cover of night, only once a year to be together, and after many years of this, and watching it, the Titan was so moved by their dedication and love, that it made the very sky weep," she gladly explained while Eda rolled her eyes.

"It's a bunch of sappy gobble de gook," Eda gruffed but frowned when she saw Luz was looking at Lilith with wide, starry eyes.

"That sounds awesome!"

"It's a widely watched event by lovers all across the Isles. Specifically from the Eastern forest where the lovers were said to meet," Lilith finishes happily. Luz is always willing to listen and learn from her, which does do something for her ego and the teacher in her.

"You and Amity gonna go?" Eda asks, cocking her head curiously.

"Oh… I dunno…" luz hesitates.

"Why not?”

"We're together but we're not… ya know…," she says, waving a hand, cheeks pink. She finds it hard to say that word. Eda gives her a wicked grin.

"You love each other dont'cha?" She cocked her head, smirking  "You're lovers." It took everything the owl lady had to keep a straight face as she said this, but it broke the second Luz began to turn crimson.

"That's not what the word…. 'lovers' implies, and you know it!" Luz squeaks, red-faced as she finally gets the word out.  Eda threw her head back and laughed maniacally.

Sometimes she forgot that Luz was still pretty innocent by most counts.

"It's an event many couples go to, regardless of their… um, stage of relationship" Lilith tries to supply helpfully. "It's quite beautiful, I would recommend it."

"You've been?" Luz and Eda both ask, surprised.

Luz watches in fascination as the former coven leader's face tints pink.

"I have," she says.

"With who?" Eda is looking at her, grinning.

"Never you mind!" Lilith growls. "The point is, regardless of the state of your relationship, it's something worth seeing."

"I'll ask her tomorrow." Luz nods.

She picks up her bag and heads upstairs, listening to Eda prod at her sister.

"Come on, who was it?"

"I'm not telling you!"

"Was it that snot nose boy from the bard track you had the hots for?"

"Edalyn!"

Luz just laughs to herself.

~

Tuesday, she's sitting next to Amity in class and the teacher has stepped out to see to something, so Luz takes the opportunity to slide a note across the table to her.

Amity looks at the folded slip of paper with a cocked brow before looking up at her, but Luz is carefully not looking at her.

'You busy tonight?'

Her eyebrow arches higher at that.

'No, why?' she slides it back.

'Wanna go somewhere with me?' it reads when she's passed it back.

'Where?'

She can practically hear her girlfriend's wary tone in the written words and grins.

'The eastern forest.' she's being intentionally vague and Amity knows it.

"Why?" She finally just whispers and Luz shakes her head making a 'shhhing' motion and Amity makes an annoyed sound and simply pushes the paper back to her. Luz can sense she's quickly reaching the end of her girlfriend's patience for her game and jots down a reply before sliding it back.

'Want to go watch the 'fall shower' with me?'

Amity's head whips up to look at her with wide eyes the second she finishes processing the words on the paper, looking at Luz, who is looking back at her, both brows raised in silent question.

"The…" she starts but manages to stop herself, remembering where they are and starts scribbling furiously on the paper before shoving it back.

'The fall shower? How do you even know what that is?'

'Heard some guys at the market talking about it. So, mi amor, up for a romantic night under the stars?'

Amity pursed her lips, glancing at Luz out of the corner of her eye and she feels herself smile when she sees Luz looking at her in that adoring way that is much too telling of a way for school.

She hesitates a moment before putting something down and pushing it back.

'It's a school night.' is her weak argument.

'so?'

She shoots Luz a look but she only grins back.

'Okay'

"Passing notes in my class, Miss. Noceda?" The professor returned while they weren't looking, his abomination looming over their table. "On principle, all notes are read aloud in my class." He holds his tiny hand out for the paper.

Luz glances at Amity, who's gone pale as a ghost, gold eyes filled with panic and fear at the declaration.

Knowing the nature of their relationship is written plainly on the paper for all to potentially hear, Luz makes a desperate decision and shoves it into her mouth.

The teacher and the whole class look at her with wide eyes and hanging mouths, including Amity as she chews it, wincing at the sharp edges. It's the longest hand full of seconds ever as the whole class watches her eat a piece of paper.

But Luz is nothing if not committed and swallows, eyes watering.

"No, sir," she rasps. "No notes here."

"Well then… on with the lesson…,"  he says numbly at what he'd just witnessed and returns to the front of the class.

Amity is still looking at her with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Let it never be said that Luz Noceda wouldn't do whatever it took to protect her girlfriend, whether it be eating a punch or a piece of paper.

She grins, though it looks queasy, and Amity slaps her palm against her forehead.

~

"You ate it?" Gus says disbelieving at lunch but then turns thoughtful. "Do humans usually eat paper?" he asks curiously.

"No, no, they do not…" Luz makes a face and smacks her lips. She can still taste it, paper on the Isles tastes different. Willow has her head in her hand and is shaking it.

"I'm torn between calling you an idiot and finding it endearing that you ate it, so it wouldn't be read out loud," Amity mumbles.

"Yo también te quiero." Luz winks and Amity grins back at her. The way they're looking at each other makes Willow sigh.

"You two have been kind of bold lately. You've got to be more careful at school," she mumbles. "Unless you like eating paper…" She looks at Luz, exasperated. Her friends are too much sometimes, on a good day, much less when they're being all… coupley. They're sitting in the back corner of the cafeteria, Luz and Amity sitting against the wall so no one can see them holding hands under the table

"She's right," Amity says quietly, and Luz sighs.

"I know." She mopes. "There's just not enough time in the day…," Luz laments and Amity squeezes her hand under the table.

Gus and Willow share a look. They feel for their friends, they really do, the two just want to be so sickeningly in love whenever they're together. Even though they don't want to be subjected to it all the time, they also wish their friends could just be a couple in public.

"Well, fall break is coming up, that's a whole week off coming up soon." Gus piped up helpfully.

"That's true, we'll have to all hang out together during the break," Willow suggests and the couple was quick to agree as they discussed possible plans for the coming break.

~

It's well and dark when Luz pulls on her new Hexside hoodie. An apology offering from the twins after she'd bled all over the other one, and steps out the door with Owlbert on her shoulder and the staff in hand.

"Be careful, and have fun," Eda calls.

"I will. love you!" she calls, closing the door.

"Ready, buddy?" She smiles and the palisman hoots happily before hopping atop the staff and fusing back with the wood, wings spread, and she hopped on before flying away from the owl house toward Blight Manor.

It's colder and colder with each passing day as they move into true fall. Leaves have fallen everywhere across the Isles, starting to give it an even more barren look in some places then it usually had, though in others the forest is awash with color of every shade and hue Luz can imagine.

The moon is full and the sky is clear. It couldn't be a more perfect evening for watching a meteor shower.

Blight Manor comes into view after a few minutes and Luz makes sure to hover down in the woods, well outside the wrought iron gates, just in the tree line.

Luckily most of the trees outside Blight Manor are of the coniferous variety and their branches are still full of green needles, shielding her from view.

She pulls out her scroll and sends a message.

'I’m outside, flash your light.'

She slipped it back in her hoodie pocket and glanced over the windows, most of the lights were on, then suddenly a light on the far side of the house began to flicker. Luz grinned and spurred the staff into motion toward the side of the house and over the fence to hover outside the second-story window.

She could see Amity inside, sitting on her bed and tapping her foot anxiously. She was wearing the white and purple hoodie she'd borrowed from Luz three weeks ago, which the human had completely forgotten about till now.

She definitely liked that hoodie on Amity.

Luz grinned as she flew in close and tapped the glass quietly. Amity jerked, gold eyes wide as she looked up to see her girlfriend hovering out the window, waving.

She smiled brightly and jumped up, opening the window.

"Buenas Noches, mi amor. Your chariot awaits." Luz grinned and hoped it came out as dashing as it did in her head.

"You certainly know how to make a girl feel special, querida," Amity giggled at her behind a hand and climbed onto the window sill. Luz held out her hand, taking Amity's to help steady her as she slipped out the window and onto the staff, hands wrapping around Luz's waist.

Just as she's about to close the window the bedroom door opens and before Amity's heart can come out of her throat, Edric sticks his head in and looks around a second before spotting them, hovering, outside the window, looking back at him with wide eyes.

They stare back at each other before Ed's face morphs into a wicked grin as he steps into the room, closing the door behind him.

"I never knew you had it in you, Mittens." He smirked, crossing his arms.

"Ed!" Amity hissed at the only Blight son as he walked over to the window and set his elbows on the sill, setting his head in his hands.

"Where are you two off too?" he asked, looking between the two with glee.

"We're gonna go watch the fall shower," Luz said with a grin before Amity could tell him to buzz off.

"Oooh…, and if mom or dad should happen to pop their heads into your room and see you're gone?" He cocked a brow. Amity frowned at that, suddenly doubting the brilliance of this plan.

Edric saw it and smiled, he twirled his finger and in a pale blue flash, a duplicate Amity appeared in her bed, appearing to be sleeping.

"I got ya covered." He winked, and Amity smiled at him. "Don't stay out too late, you two" He grins, wagging a finger.

"Thanks, Ed!" Luz grinned before they pulled away from the window and flew off into the dark.

Amity clung tightly to Luz's back as they flew over the island, she was downright hot in comparison to the cold air that whipped past their faces.

"Where are we going exactly?" She leaned forward, lips pressed against Luz's ear so she could hear her over the wind.

Luz shivered at the hot breath in her ear.

"Lilith told me about a spot on a cliff at the edge of the forest that was perfect when she went," she answered back, as she steered them.

"Lilith's been?" Luz can hear the surprise in her voice.

"I know, crazy right? She wouldn't say who with, Eda bugged her all night about it." Luz shrugged.

When they’re flying over the forest they can see the faint glowing of lights dotting the area.

"I don't think we're going to be the only ones here…," Amity mumbles and Luz nods, bringing them down away from any of the other couples that appear to be in the woods tonight.

They hop off and Luz leans the staff against her shoulder and pulls up her hood.

"We don't wanna be recognized if anyone we know is here. It'd be hard to explain why we're here together," she reasoned when Amity looked at her curiously.

"Right," she said, pulling up her own hood. "Nothing you can eat would fix that." She smirked as Luz pulled out a light glyph and lit up the area around them.

"I thought we agreed that that was endearing!" Luz yelped at the teasing. Amity just chuckled as she walked through the forest, Luz hot on her heels.

"A true labor of love," Amity agreed, though the way she was giggling told a different story.

"That's the last time I get a paper cut on my tongue for you," Luz huffed, grabbing Amity's hand. The witch's fingers laced between her automatically even as she rolled her eyes.

"What do you want me to do, kiss it better?"

"Maybe…," Luz grumbled, and they both turned bright red beneath their hoods.

"Come on, you dork," Amity mumbled, glad most of her face was hidden by the purple hood.

They walked quickly through the woods, hand in hand as they searched for a relatively private spot from which to watch the sky.

"It should be just over this way…," Luz said quietly as they walked, their breaths coming out in little clouds.

"Did Lilith say exactly where it was?" Amity glanced around at all the trees, their feet crunching in the leaves.

"No, but she said around here, and that we'd know it when we saw it. There should be a bunch of rocks with initials carved into them," she said, holding her hand up, the light out in front of her.

A few more yards and she stopped, jerking Amity tp a stop as well.

"What-," she started.

"Shhh," Luz hushed her and tapped the staff to the ground, snuffing the light out, casting them in darkness before pulling Amity against her and pressing her back flush against a wide tree trunk. It took a few moments before their eyes adjusted to the dark, the light of the moon filtering through the trees cast a faint, but low, glow over everything.

They stayed perfectly still and quiet. All Amity could hear was her own heartbeat in her ears.

Then, the crunching of leaves approaching, followed by voices growing steadily louder. A moment later they could see the light bobbing between the trees a few yards away.

"How many more of these losers do you think we can catch on camera?" A voice cackled.

'Boscha' was the thought going through both girls' heads. Amity's grip on Luz tightened and her heartbeat sped up. Luz pulled her closer, as though trying to sink into the bark of the tree and make themselves disappear.

"There were a bunch down by the river." Skara's voice answered.

"Perfect, my penstagram followers could use a laugh," she snorted.

They were walking past them, through the trees, and both girls held their breath as they walked by.

Their voices and the light growing steadily more distant along with their footsteps in the crunching leaves. Eventually, the sounds faded entirely, replaced with the ambient sounds of the forest and Amity sighed in relief, her head sagging against Luz's shoulder.

"That was close…," the witch mumbled once she was sure they were far enough away.

"She just came out here to make fun of people…" Luz frowned, and Amity pulled back to look at her girlfriend's face.

"That's certainly something she would do…" Amity agreed.

"She's such a…" Luz chewed on her words, face screwed up with anger.

"A bitch," Amity supplied and Luz looked at her with wide eyes before a grin broke out across her face and she snorted, slapping a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughing and Amity grinned at her.

"My, my, what strong language, Miss Blight." Luz grinned once she got her giggling under control.

"You were thinking it," she argued, still grinning.

"I would never." Luz held a hand to her chest, but her own grin betrayed her.

"Come on," she laughed, tugging Luz away from the tree and spelling a light orb into existence as they continued on in the same direction as before.

They pushed through some bushes and in front of them were an outcropping of rocks.

"I wonder if this is it…," Luz hummed as they pushed through and rounded one of the large rocks only to smack directly into someone.

"Ahh!" Four yells echoed through the woods.

Luz holds the staff out in front of them defensively before she realizes who it is they’ve run into.

"Amity!?"

"Emira!?

The sisters stared at each other.

"What are you doing here?" they both asked.

Amity blinked, then noticed the other person standing at her sister's side.

"Viney?" Luz cocked her head, looking between the two older teens.

"Sup?" She smiled, not looking at all bothered by the events going on around them. Amity looked back and forth between her sister and the other multi-track student.

The older Blight's face turned panicked.

"I can explain!" Emira practically shouts at them. Her sister's mouth is hanging open as the scene in front of them begins to sink in.

"I knew it!" Luz points, grinning wildly at the other two girls. Amity blinks at that, head whipping to look at her girlfriend.

"What do you mean you knew it!?" she yelps and Luz chuckles, scratching the back of her head.

"Well, yeah, after Viney fixed my face and was so weird about how she knew Em, I kinda started paying more attention, and saw Em head into beast keeping one day after school when I had to go back because I forgot my bag, so I just figured." She shrugged. The older teens stand there, red-faced at being so easily figured out.

"Them, you figured out in two weeks, but you didn't know I liked you till I said it to your face after almost two months…" Amity frowns, crossing her arms. Luz turned red at that and grinned sheepishly, shrugging.

"Lo Siento, mi amor."

Viney snorted at that, drawing the two girls’ gaze.

"That sounds like, Luz," she agreed, and Amity sighed.

"Are you guys here to watch the fall shower?" Luz grins.

"Of course," Viney smiles back, hand on her hip.

The sisters are still looking at each other. Emira looks embarrassed and Amity can't help but feel betrayal sinking in her gut like a stone.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this…," she finally managed to mutter and the betrayal she feels must be clear on her face because Emira blinks at her and grimaces, rubbing one of her arms.

Luz and Viney share a glance.

"I can't believe you!" Amity frowns and Emira jerks but then glares.

"It's not like you told me about, Luz!" she bites back defensively.

"You already knew!" she argued.

"Anyone with one eye and half a brain could tell how bad you had it for her!" she barked.

"Hey!" Luz jumps in, offended by the implication.

"Babe..." Viney rested a hand on Emira's shoulder and she relaxed, sighing.

"Look, Amity, it wasn't anything personal… it was just that the fewer people that knew the better. I shouldn't have to tell you that." Her eyes darted to Luz before focusing on her sister.

Amity continues to frown and Luz nudges her with her hip. She glanced at the human, smiling at her in that way, egging her on. Amity sighs, looking back at Emira.

"You're right… I understand."

"I should have told you though… there just hasn't been a good time lately," Emira admitted.

"I don't understand…," Luz said, drawing everyone's gaze. "I know why your parents wouldn't like me… being all human and everything, but what's wrong with Viney, why keep it a secret?" She held her hand out at the other upperclassman.

"Besides being a multi-track student, formerly of the detention track, and bottom of the barrel social class-wise?" Viney chuckled, seemingly not at all bothered by this characterization of herself.

"Our parents are very… traditional," Amity hedges.

"Anyone who falls outside the norm, someone studying multiple tracks, like you," Emira pointed at her. " Or aren't of the right social class, they are not going to be fond of." Emira frowns, resting a fist on her hip.

"Wow, I think that's the first time I've checked every box on a list…, and not the list I wanted too..." Luz frowned, crossing her arms.

"I still love you." Amity nudged her, making her smile.

Emira cleared her throat and they both turned red as they focussed on the two grinning teens in front of them.

"So yeah," Emira said with a grin at her sister's bright red face. "That's why."

"Blight's just have the hots for trouble makers." Viney winked and Luz laughed as they high fived, making the sisters roll their eyes, but both their faces are pink.

"I'm surprised though, never thought you'd have the guts to sneak out, Mittens." Emira looked at her sister appraisingly. "Then again, you do a lot of surprising things these days…" she smiled, glancing between the two younger girls.

Amity stood a little taller, chin jutted out.

"How'd you guys get here?" Luz asks.

"Puddles" Viney grinned, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at the young griffin laying curled up in the grass.

"I want a griffin…" Luz pouted, making her fellow multi-tracker chuckle.

“You do not need a griffin…,” Amity mumbled.

"You guys better find a spot to watch from, the shower should be starting soon," Viney reminded.

"And this is our spot," Emira said.

"Oh, right. Come on, Amity." Luz grabbed her hand and tugged.

Amity sent a last glance at her sister who seemed to read the look.

"Later," she promised. Amity nodded and let Luz drag her away.

"Stay close and we'll warn you if anyone's coming our way!" Viney called to the two's retreating backs. Luz waved over her shoulder.

"We can still find a good spot." Luz smiled at her as they walked. Amity nodded. The cool night air had made her nose and the tips of her ears red, Luz looked much the same.

They followed the edge of the cliff till they pushed through some bushes as tall as them and stopped.

In front of them was a small clearing of grass surrounded by large stones on one side and the edge of the cliff, hanging out over the ocean on the other, providing perfect shelter from any onlookers and a clear view of the night sky and moon above them.

"This is perfect." Luz smiled and Amity nodded in agreement.

They glanced around and Luz perked up. "Hey check it out!" She trotted over to the rocks and the light spell lit up the rocks, casting long shadows against their jagged shapes and the many initials carved across their faces. "This is it!" Luz grinned.

"Lilith was right, this spot is perfect," Amity admitted, looking around. The moonlight reflecting off the ocean amidst the starry sky was beautiful.

Luz glanced around before her eyes lighted upon a sharp rock and picked it up, resting the staff against the rocks and immediately going to work on a free space on the rocks face, tongue poking out between her lips in concentration

All the scratching and chipping noise brought Amity's eyes back to her, hunched over one of the large rocks.

"What are you doing?" She tried to peek around her, but Luz covered her work with her arms.

"Hold on, I'm not done!"

Amity can practically hear the grin in her voice, and stood back, waiting. After a few minutes, Luz leaned back, eyeing her work critically before smiling and standing up to move aside.

"Ta~da" She held out her arms at the rock.

There, chiseled forever into the rock's surface, deep enough to never fade is: 'L+A' Inside a slightly misshapen heart.

Amity's face warms, and heat blooms in her chest in a way that only Luz is capable of eliciting. She can't stop the smile tugging at her lips even if she wanted too; and she doesn't.

"You're a dork," she says, but the adoring tone can't be mistaken for anything else.

"But I'm your dork, mi amor." She grins wagging her eyes brows and Amity snorts into her hand.

"Yeah, my dork," she agrees, grabbing the sides of Luz's hood and pulling her in for a kiss.

Luz laughs against her lips and she pulls back, shaking her head.

"Come on…," she mumbles, still smiling as she tugs Luz over to the grass. Luz dropped her hand to plop down on the ground, flopping onto her back in the grass, one arm outstretched in invitation. Amity sat down beside her laid back in the grass atop Luz's arm, letting her tug her in close. Her warmth immediately soaks into her, and Amity shuffles closer, throwing an arm across Luz's waist, humming contently and Luz is happy to oblige any and all snuggling, her free hand reaching across to entangle her fingers with Amity's. Their cold and Luz just squeezed tighter, trying to warm the digits in hers and Amity smiles against her.

It's quiet, the sounds of the ocean crashing against the shore and the slight breeze in the trees are the only sounds for a few minutes, but Luz and quiet never did mix for long.

"So, when is it supposed to start?" Luz mumbles against a pointed ear, hot breath making it twitch. Amity half shrugs.

"Anytime now," she hums.

Honestly, she doesn't even care if it ever starts, though she's sure Luz would be disappointed if it didn't. She's happy to just be right here, her girlfriend holding her close, alone in the calm quiet of the night. It's only ever here, wrapped up in the unending warmth and affection the other girl exudes, that Amity is ever truly at peace, unworried by everything else going on in her life, whether it be school, her parents, or anything in between. Here, above all else, is where she's happiest.

She lets her eyes slip closed for a moment, and the warm earthy smell she would know anywhere fills her senses, so much stronger then on the hoodie she's been wearing to bed for two weeks. She doesn't pretend to understand what Luz is thinking half the time, but her thoughts must be of a similar vein because she feels her nose bury in her hair.

It's probably only a minute before she hears Luz gasp.

"It's starting!" Is the excited whisper against the shell of her ear, and her eyes pop open.

First, it's just one, then two, then three more, and before she knows it, stars are streaking across the sky leaving bright trails of light in their wake as they flash and vanish almost as quickly as they appear, but are quickly replaced by more.

"Wow…," Luz breathes as she watches with wide eyes. It reminds her of rain on a window, or tears falling, like in the story.

Amity watches silently, but no less entranced by the spectacle.

"Totally worth it," Luz says and Amity can see the cloud it makes before it evaporates against the sky above them. She hums in agreement.

The stars continue to flash across the sky in bright flecks of whizzing light, slowly fading out against the inky blacks and deep blues and purples of the nebulas above. Amity’s thumb runs over the back of Luz’s knuckles slowly.

The sky is alive with the bright streaks for a long while before they begin to slow, and as they do she can feel her eyes droop, the quiet, and Luz's warmth slowly lulling her to sleep.

After a while, Luz notices the constant rubbing of Amity's thumb over her knuckles has stopped and she glances down to see her eyes closed and breathing soft and even as she sleeps, curled against her. Happiness, hot and searing, fills her whole being; beyond words to describe it.

She smiles to herself, and buries her nose in mint hair, letting her eyes slip closed, just for a second, listening to the calming sound of Amity's breathing and feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest against her.

Then she's asleep.

The next thing they know, they're being shaken awake.

"Huh, Wha-" Luz blinks drowsily.

"You two gotta get up, and Mittens has to come home with me," Emira chuckles as she and Viney stand over the two, smiling, Puddles standing behind them.

Luz grumbles, clutching her girlfriend closer.

"No…," she mumbles thickly. She feels the hot puffs of air against her neck as Amity sleepily laughs at her.

"We have to go…," she says thickly, pressing a drowsy kiss to Luz's neck without thinking, unaware of the jolt it sends through Luz’s system, before extracting herself from her. Luz just whines and makes needy, grabby motions with her hands; she’s colder now.

Amity chuckles and holds out her hand.

"Come on, you dork." She smiles down at her.

Luz takes her hand and lets herself be hauled to her feet. She walked over to the rocks and picked up the staff. The wings spread and she hops on, hovering off the ground and looking at Amity expectantly.

“I better go with Em,” she says sadly, and Luz pouts. Amity smiles and takes a step forward and kisses her goodnight, and it if lasts longer than it really needs to, the other two teens don’t say anything, just wait for Amity to extract herself from Luz.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promises quietly, and Luz hums in agreement. “Goodnight, querida,” she mumbles.

“Goodnight, mi amor,” she says quietly, and then is flying off over the trees and disappearing from sight.

Viney jumps on Puddles back and Emira climbs on behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Let’s go, Mittens,” her sister calls. “We have school tomorrow.”

“When did you suddenly become the voice of reason?” Viney chuckles.

“Cuz, she’s too head over heels in love with Luz, someone has to do it,” her sister teases, and Amity huffs, climbing on the griffin’s back behind her sister.

“Shut up,” she grumbles as they take off back toward Blight Manor.

“I’m curious…,” Emira starts after a few minutes, looking over her shoulder at Amity. “What’s ‘mi amor’? I’ve heard her say that before,” she asks, and Amity’s cheeks pink.

“It’s Spanish…,” she grumbles.

“Yeah, but what does it mean?” she stresses, almost knowingly. Maybe she doesn’t know exactly, but she knows a term of endearment when she hears one, especially the way Luz says those words to her; soft and meaningfully.

She mumbles something.

“What?” she asks and Amity sighs to herself.

“It means ‘my love’,” she finally says, and predictably, Emira coos at her.

“Aww… so ‘querida’ is like…,” she trails off and Amity scowls at her, of course, she heard that.

“Dear or darling,” she grumbles.

“You two are too cute.” She grins.

“Like you don’t call me ‘honey’,” Viney pipes up, and it’s Emira’s turn to blush and grumble something under her breath. Amity snorts, grinning. She likes Viney more and more by the minute.

They land in the woods, just beyond the house and dismount, there's no way to get the griffin as close and quietly to their windows as Luz could get on a staff.

Amity turns away as Viney and her sister say their own goodbye’s, and then the multi-tracker is flying off into the night and the sisters make their way to the door. It’s late and all the lights are out, their parents are definitely asleep by now.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Emira says after a minute. “About Viney,” she clarifies, glancing at her sister.

Amity shrugs.

“I get it… I’m... terrified, about mom and dad finding out about Luz, and never being able to see her again,” she says quietly. Emira wraps an arm around her shoulders and squeezes.

“Ed and I have your back.”

Amity smiles to herself and nods before it turns into a grin.

“And I’m sure if Luz starts inviting Viney to things it will be just a coincidence,” she teases, and Emira scoffs, shoving her away, but her flushed face says it all and Amity laughs.

“Whatever…,” she gripes, but she’s grinning. It would definitely be less conspicuous if the four of them hung out together. They love hanging out with Gus and Willow, but she’s sure their friends get tired of them being all lovey when they're together.

They silently open the door and walk in.

The kitchen light is on and they share a look before tiptoeing down the entryway and peek their heads around the corner, the fridge door is open and someone is scavenging through it. They stay perfectly still.

Then, Edric steps back, fork hanging out of his mouth and a piece of cake in hand, and closes the door.

“Ed,” they hiss, and he jumps, nearly dropping the plate.

“Shit! Don’t do that!” he huffs as they walk into the kitchen. “Wait, where were you?” he points at his twin.

“We were both at the Fall Shower,” Amity says and Emira pinks as her twin looks at her with narrowed eyes.

“With who?” he asks.

“Her girlfriend?” Amity says obviously, and Edric’s eyes widen.

“You have a girlfriend?” he hisses, and Amity blinks, looking from one twin to the other.

“You didn’t tell Ed?” She blinks. Amity had always assumed that the twins told each other everything.

“Who’s your girlfriend?!” He leans forward and Emira turns red.

“Viney…”

“Your multi-track friend?” He blinks and she nods. “Huh… I shoulda pegged her as your type,” he hums before taking a bite of his cake. “So, how was it?” he asks, mouthful. The sisters glance at each other.

“Perfect,” they say, and Edric just nods sagely before he stops, looking thoughtful.

"So… wait… I'm the only one without a girlfriend!?" Edric yelled, throwing up his free hand.

Amity snorted, and Emira just shrugged.

"Sorry, Bro." She smirked, not looking sorry at all.

"Whatever, I don't want one anyway. I have this cake," he huffs, sticking his nose in the air and walking back upstairs with his treat.

The sisters share a look before they start laughing.

~

Luz hops off the staff and pushes open the front door of the owl house, careful not to wake Hooty as she steps inside.

“Hey, Kid,” Eda greets her when she steps inside. The sisters are sitting on the couch when she walks in, and she smiles at them. Eda doesn’t even need to ask how it went by the dopey smile Luz can’t seem to rid herself of. “You’re home late for a school night,” she scolds but is given away by her grin.

“How was the shower?” Lilith asks her, smiling, she too can see the giddy aura that surrounds her sister’s apprentice like a fog.  

Luz clutches the staff tightly in her hands, well aware of how dopey she must look.

“Magical” she sighs and Eda chuckles.

#Moonlit Masquerade #lumity #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Emira Blight #Edric Blight #Eda Clawthorne #Lilith clawthorne #Gus Porter #Willow Park #fic #the owl house #toh

[haloshornsinkstains]

Five Times Kore Went Drinking With the Devildom

Kore is my MC/semi self-insert for Obey Me. Enjoy some drunken chaos with her and a few faces from the Devildom.

Content warning: Alcohol, Mammon-style scams, pranks, Mammon slander, witches

1. Diavolo

"Lucifer, apologies for the interruption, but you may wish to come collect your human." Lucifer frowned at the handset, the beginnings of a headache already beginning to prod at the space behind his eyes. "Barbatos. She went to the castle to finish the festival preparations with Lord Diavolo less than an hour ago. What could she possibly have managed to do already?" On the other end of the line Barbatos chuckled, poorly hiding it behind a cough. "I'm afraid in this case it is my Lord's doing. Miss Kore had all the preparations finished shortly after her arrival, however the Young Master recently acquired some rare drink from a visiting emissary and wished to share it with his favourite human…" Lucifer bristled on the other end of the line, growling slightly into the static left by Barbatos' sudden pause. "Barbatos, what is happening?" A few more beats of silence and the muffled sound of a handset being picked up. "Apologies. The Young Master requested some water for Miss Kore. She is quite alright, no need to fret Lucifer. However the drink had a rather more pronounced effect on human biology than we anticipated. I thought you might want to collect her while she's still awake, I can always put her up in one of the spare rooms if you prefer…" Lucifer sighed. "I'll collect her. The headache I'll be subjected to if she disappears for a night with no warning isn't worth it." "Very well. I'll see you shortly."

By the time Lucifer arrived at the castle the dull ache in his head had become a slow throbbing. One that only spiked in intensity as Barbatos led him through to the room where Diavolo and Kore were supposed to be discussing the festival. Instead he found Kore curled up sleepily in the Prince's lap, one hand absentmindedly stroking through his hair as she murmured nonsense at him. Half a bottle of some strange liquid and two empty goblets abandoned on the table before them. Diavolo at least seemed to be enjoying himself, if her occasional mumblings of "your smile is so pretty" were anything to go by. Barbatos sighed, sounding far too much like a Demon who had seen such nonsense one too many times, and cleared his throat. "My Lord. Lucifer has come to collect his charge." Diavolo looked up, the sparkle in his eyes dimming ever so slightly as the words sunk in. In his lap Kore shifted, retrieving her hand from his hair and guzzling into his broad chest. "Oh. Barbatos, I thought she might be able to stay? It's rare I get to entertain guests casually." Good grief, he looks like a kicked puppy. Lucifer thought, shaking his head. "Try explaining that to my brothers." He grumbled under his breath, earning a raised eyebrow from the butler. "I am sure we can arrange that another day Young Master. But I believe Miss Kore has plans with the brothers and it would be rude to interrupt." Diavolo nodded, though he was still pouting ever so slightly. Gently he squeezed her shoulder, bumping her awake with a shift of his knee. "Kore, Lucifer is here to bring you home." He murmured. Kore blinked slowly, eyes widening almost comically when she spotted Lucifer standing in the doorway. "Oh no." Diavolo let out a booming laugh, shaking his head at her. "As much as I would like to keep you here all night, I believe you have plans?" She frowned a little, thinking for a few moments before nodding happily, eyes sparkling. "Movie night! You should come too Dia." "I'm afraid my Lord has duties to attend to. Perhaps some other time Miss Kore?" Barbatos cut in before Diavolo could answer. "Oh, okay. Next time I visit I'll bring a film and we can have a movie night." She smiled, slowly extracting herself from his lap. Lucifer darted forwards to catch her as she tripped on her own feet a few steps away from the desk, holding her up against his chest with a sigh. "Perhaps next time you can forgo the mystery liquids Lord Diavolo?" He hummed. “The human is quite enough trouble sober.” With those final words he turned on his heel and headed out of the castle.

As they headed out of the doors and back towards the House of Lamentation, Kore peered up at Lucifer. “Lucifer?” She asked quietly, brows pulled together slightly as she spoke. “How much trouble am I in?” The eldest sighed and shook his head. “While I cannot say I’m exactly pleased by your utter lack of decorum, I am aware it wasn’t your idea to get drunk. So, I won’t punish you too harshly.” Kore pouted a little, staring up at him with as innocent an expression as she could manage. “Still sounds like I’m in trouble.” “You are. In case you have forgotten you were sat in the Prince of Devildom’s lap petting his hair. If you thought such behaviour would go unpunished then you’ve learned nothing since coming here.” She sighed. “His hair is really soft, you should try it too Lucy, it’s soothing.” “Quit while you’re ahead Kore. I would hate to ban you from movie night after all the trouble I went to to collect you.”

2. Mammon

“Oi oi! Kore!” The human turned from where she was sitting at her desk, arching an eyebrow at the white-haired demon in her doorway. “What’s up Mammon?” She hummed, tilting her head. “Oh! Did you get another contract for Devil Style?” He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting to the pile of magazines safely stacked in one corner. A collection of every issue of a magazine he’d modelled for, one she’d been so embarrassed about in the beginning. “N-no. Not that. I just had a great idea!” Kore turned properly, a grin pulling at her lips. “Go on…” “Hah! I knew ya wouldn’t laugh at me like those jerks.” He grinned, crossing the room and flopping down on her bed like he owned the place. “Let me hear what your plan is first.”

And so, Kore found herself in the midst of a very exclusive party at The Fall, having snuck out of the House of Lamentation with Mammon and the two tickets he had somehow acquired (from one of his modelling contacts apparently). Their mission, to have fun and get drunk without spending a single Grimm. Which was why she was currently attempting to flirt with a demon who wasn’t one of the boys at the bar, while Mammon lurked nearby trying his best not to interrupt in a fit of jealousy. Eventually the demon caved, ordering them both drinks, and when he moved down the bar slightly to pay with his card Mammon swooped in, grabbing one of the drinks while she swiped the other and dragging her off to get lost in the sea of bodies. “Quick, before we get caught!” She laughed, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a deep drink. “This is delicious!” Mammon chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. “Eurgh, what the hell is this?” Kore huffed, swiftly downing her own glass and snatching his from his hands. “If you don’t want it-” “Hey, hey, you can’t drink that!” He protested, trying to grab the glass back as she drank from it, spilling some down the side of her face and neck. “What if it was dangerous for humans eh?” Kore grumbled under her breath, licking her lips and trying to wipe the spilled liquid away while Mammon did his best to look anywhere but the trail of liquid glistening on her skin. Quickly he drained his own cup, grabbing both empty containers and settling them down on a table. “C’mon. We should hit the dance floor, it’ll be easier to hide.” Kore smiled, grabbing his hand and tangling her fingers between his. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Red faced and sputtering Mammon let himself be led by the giggling human further into the press of bodies. The crowd pressing them closer together, until her back was flush against his chest, his hands gripping her hips. She had danced with him before, more than once at the castle and clubs both, but it had never been like this before. This was how she had danced with Asmo that one time, drunk on fancy wine and trying to get his attention after he had neglected her for fancy trinkets all night. Her body rolled against his, pulling him back into the moment as her arm snaked backwards around his neck. Mammon huffed, squeezing her hip and burying his red face in her hair. "This is nice. We should do this more often." She hummed, nuzzling her head against his. "Ya that drunk already human?" He grumbled in response, lips pressed against the side of her head. "No way! I can get way more free drinks than that!" She giggled. "But this feels good too." Mammon sighed contentedly, squeezing her just a little tighter and enjoying the moment a little longer before they went to go 'acquire' more drinks.

"HEY! That's my drink! Get back here you bastard!" Mammon grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the exit as fast as he could. "Time to go?" She giggled, words slurring ever so slightly. "C'mon, stop laughing and run. Lucifer'll kill me if I let ya get eaten!"

3. Solomon

'Theres a gathering of a few witches I know this evening. I'd very much like it if you would come with me.' Kore read over the text a few times, frowning. She wasn't a witch, not technically at least, sure she had pacts with demons now and apparently some magical power, but she wasn't a part of magical society. 'Are you sure it would be okay for me to go?' The reply was almost instantaneous, as if the sorcerer had been watching his phone. 'Of course! You have some very strong magic Kore, you would be more than welcome.' 'Besides, I'd like you to be there. I feel like I haven't seen nearly of you lately x' Kore blushed, shaking her head at the message with a soft smile. 'You charmer :). Alright, give me a time, place and dress code and I'll be there.' 'I'll pick you up at 6. No need to dress up, it's just a friendly gathering.' Kore glanced at the clock on her screen, four hours, plenty of time to finish what she was doing and pretty herself up.

Solomon was alarmingly punctual, knocking on the door almost as soon as the clock ticked over to 6. Kore ushered him inside, still pulling at her hair to try and convince the unruly strands to stay in a neat plait. Solomon smiled softly, pushing her hands down and gently running his fingers through her hair. "Let me." "I didn't know you were a hairdresser too." She teased, leaning back into his touch. "Just a sorcerer." "That's cheating! Though at least this way we won't be late. Thank you." She tilted her head back to smile up at him. "Take me to your witches." "You've spent far too much time with Leviathan." He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead and leading her out of the door. Once the place was locked up and they'd wandered far enough away from curious human eyes, he tugged her down an alleyway. Draping his cloak around her shoulders as he muttered a quick incarnation under his breath. She arched an eyebrow at the gesture but didn't protest, holding tightly to his hand as he teleported them to the meeting place.

"Solomon! You came!" "Oh, who is this pretty little thing? Did you finally take on an apprentice?" "Couldn't be! I don't recognise her. A servant perhaps?" Kore unconsciously pressed herself into his side, staring wide-eyed at the group. Solomon chuckled, pressing his palm gently against her lower back. A small gesture of comfort against the witches curiosity. "This is my… hmm… this is Kore." Kore nodded. "It's nice to meet you?" "Aha! So you're Kore? We've heard so much about you." A dark haired witch laughed, stepping forwards and wrapping a hand around her wrist. "Come, come chat. Agnes brought some of her home brewed blackberry wine, you have to try some. I'm Lucille by the way." Solomon watched with a soft smile as Kore was dragged away to chat with the younger witches, a glass of dark liquid pressed into her hands. "So that's Kore? Nik will be terribly upset he missed out." Solomon turned to the woman beside him. "She is. Try not to start any trouble Circe?" "Oh no, from all I've heard I doubt she needs my help there."

As it turned out Circe was, once again, right. Several stories and a few bottles of wine between the group later the conversation drifted onto the topic of pact-ed demons. Kore sat oddly quiet through the whole thing, leaning against Solomon's shoulder. "Hey Mags, surely you have a new story to tell us?" Solomon looked up and frowned. "Perhaps that isn't the-" "Oh come on Solomon. You'll want to hear these too, last time we were practically rolling on the floor." "I really wouldn't." Solomon sighed. "No really, you've missed out. I never knew a powerful demon could be such an idiot." Kore tensed against him, lifting her head slightly and narrowing her eyes as the unfortunate witch started her story. "...and that's how Lou got the Porsche. Honestly, none of us believed he was stupid enough to fall for it but I guess we overestimated him. And he still believes the money is going to that kid." Several of the witches were cackling, clutching their stomachs and brushing tears from their eyes. Against his shoulder Solomon could feel Kore practically vibrating with rage. Tentatively he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Try to stay calm?" He murmured softly. "Don't you feel at least a little bad?" Circe asked, ignoring the sharp look from Solomon for her stirring the pot. "Why should I? If he wasn't so stupid and scu-" What little restraint was holding Kore in place snapped. "How dare you!"

Solomon sighed, pulling out his phone and stepping away from the group. "Solomon! Missing me already?" "Sure. But that's not why I called." He sighed. "Oh, are you sure? I know my voice is wonderful… wait, is that Kore I can hear in the background?" "Ah, yes. There was a gathering tonight and I thought it would be nice to bring her along…. Unfortunately one of the witches here knows Mammon…" Solomon glanced over his shoulder to where Kore had squared up to the witch in question, jabbing a finger quite viciously in her direction while she berated her. "Oh my gosh! That's adorable! Hey Stupid Mammon, come here and listen to this!" "- don't you dare, you shut up and listen. Mammon isn't some idiot you can take advantage of whoever you want some extra cash! He might do stupid things sometimes but he's so kind, and he cares a lot, and you're trying to use that against him! You're the worst kind of person!" "Asmodeus, am I on loudspeaker?" "Of course no-" "Oi! Sorcerer! Ya tell my human to shut her trap, she's embarassin'." Solomon snorted, glancing over his shoulder. "You can tell her that yourself." "- do you know how much trouble you idiots get him into? Do you even care? You keep hurting him and you think it's all some big joke!" "Solomon! Come get your dog." One of the witches called, gesturing towards Kore. "She doesn't bite!" Kore whipped her head around at that, narrowing her eyes at the device in his hand, finally stopping her tirade. "You know damn well I do." "Oi, what was that?! What have you been doin' to my human?" "Oooh, Solomon, have you been taking advantage of sweet little Kore while you had her all to yourself? How utterly wicked of you!" "Ah. Well, I'm not sure sweet is entirely accurate. At least you didn't try to call her innocent…" He cleared his throat, suddenly aware he had spoken his thoughts aloud. "And on that note I should go. I'll be leaving her with you to cool off and sober up. Good luck."

Walking back towards the group he made a beeline for Kore. His little comment had knocked all of the wind out her rant so she was at least stood quietly at last, glaring at Mags with a ferocity Lucifer would be proud of. "I think you've had a little too much to drink." He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. "I did try to warn you. We'll be leaving now." "I'm not sorry." Kore grumbled. "I know." Circe split from the group, walking towards them as they headed away. She waved casually at Solomon, a soft smile on her lips. "I'm so glad you brought her. It was wonderful to meet you Kore." She tilted her head towards Solomon. "I'm extending your open invitation to Kore as well. Do bring her by any time." Solomon nodded. "Of course. Come on Kore, let's leave before Mags breaks out of her shock and curses you. Lucifer will have my head if I let that happen." Kore nodded, waving at the smirking figure of Circe one last time before she let Solomon whisk her away.

4. Satan (& Belphie)

"- I know right?! What was he thinking? It was so obvious!" Kore half-shouted, waving the book towards Satan. "I swear you find some of the best worst books for these." "Lady Cerewenn and the Crow was not a bad book!" Satan protested. "Fair. That was excellent, this on the other hand is wonderfully awful." She sipped from her glass and grinned. "The best kind of book to read with a drink." "So my research on human world book club traditions paid off?" Kore laughed, nodding. "So much! As long as Lucifer doesn't turn up to ruin the fun."

At that moment the door to the library created open, both demon and human cast worried glances across the room. Only to sigh in relief when when Belphie wandered in. "I thought I could hear you cackling." He chuckled, making a beeline for the sofa and flopping down with his head in Kore's lap. "I do not cackle!" She snorted, flicking his ear in retaliation. "Were you looking for me?" "Just wanted a good place to nap." He yawned. "I thought Lucifer banned wine at your book clubs after the chair incident?" "He doesn't need to know." Kore hummed. "We haven't broken anything since." "Except that vase." Kore shot a glare in the blonde's direction. "We don't mention the vase." Belphie chuckled, humming contentedly as the human started running her fingers through his hair. "Don't mind me, carry on with your book club."

"... that book sounds terrible." Kore glanced down, shaking her head. "I thought you were sleeping?" Belphie made a non-committal noise, glancing over at Satan's frown. "I'll admit it isn't my finest pick." He hummed. "I thought it would be more entertaining." "It was hillarious until the last chapter we read, they've started to lose the plot a bit now though." Kore smiled. "I've read worse books." Satan scrunched up his features in disgust, shaking his head. "Human lives are too short for bad books." "Well, since we're all here… how about a club meeting?" Kore glanced down at Belphie and sighed. "We really should keep a low profile. But… I guess I'm in the mood for a prank." "Excellent."

Thirty minutes and the rest of the bottle later the three of them were huddled around the corner from Lucifer's room. "We're sure the door opens inwards right?" Kore hummed, tapping the roll of cling film against her lips thoughtfully. "Yes. You've been in there often enough!" "Look, Satan, paying attention to how the door opens is never at the top of my list of things to think about when I go in there." "So!" Belphie interrupted, waving an arm between the bristling demon and human. "How do we do this?" "We just need to get the cling film across the doorway, as neatly as possible so he can't see it. Then we knock and run," Kore gestured to their hiding place "and we can watch him walk into the invisible barrier from here." "You know, that's not half bad for a human. Lucifer is usually on the lookout for curses, but I bet he wouldn't think of something as mundane as this." "I know, I'm an evil genius." Kore grinned. "Ready?" As quietly as they could, the three of them crept towards the room, pulling strips of the cling film over the door frame. Kore looked over it a couple of times, pulling edges taut and trying to smooth out any overlap so the wall was as invisible as possible. Finally satisfied she gestured towards the wall and nodded, lifting her hand ready to knock. She gave three sharp raps before turning and darting back around the corner to watch. After a few beats the door creaked open slowly and the trio watched as Lucifer slowly poked his head out to look for whoever had disturbed him, only to collide with the cling film.

Kore snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise as she fell backwards against Satan. "You three…" "Run!"

5. Levi

Levi looked up from his game at the sound of three knocks against his door, frowning. Mammon was with Lucifer doing some extra study after his last exam results were terrible, and Kore was supposed to be out with Asmo tonight at some over the top party, no one else really bothered him unless something was happening. "What's the password?" "Uhm… it was something to do with the 2015 Seven Lords… I knew yesterday, damnit!" Levi perked up, he knew that voice. "It's okay, you can come in." Grinning, Kore opened the door and bounced across the room to settle down next to him. "I thought you were with Asmo?" "I was," she sighed, "but there were way too many strange demons, and Asmo ran into a succubus he knows…" she fiddled with her hands a little "he couldn't keep an eye on me and some of them were getting a bit handsy… he knows I left, I think, I told him anyway." A flare of jealousy spiked through Levi, if it was his night with the human he wouldn't be sidetracked by some succubus. It wasn't fair Asmo still got chances like that if he was going to ruin them! "... so I came to spend time with my favourite otaku instead, if that's okay?" Levi flushed. "Oh. U-uh, yeah, it's fine. Are- are you sure you're okay? You seem…" he trailed off, frowning. "I had a few drinks, I can go…" "No! I mean, I, it's okay. You can stay." She smiled softly at him, settling against his side to watch as he gamed.

After a few matches she had started scrolling through her phone, looking up to watch when she felt the demon beside her tense up, or start giving excited commands through his headset. When he finally hit a break between matches she tugged gently on his sleeve. "Leviachan… do you know any anime dances?" Levi frowned. "Why?" Kore showed him her phone. "This one was popular in the human world for a bit. I can do it, but it's way cooler with two people… I maybe thought I could put it on my deviltube?" Levi stared at the screen, watching the movements of the animated couples on screen. It seemed simple enough, especially the Male parts, the dance he learned for their play had been much more complicated. "We don't-" "I'll try it! B- but, it doesn't go on deviltube unless I say so… okay? Or devilgram!" Kore nodded, smiling. "Of course. Thank you Levi!" He flushed as she leant up to kiss his cheek. "H-hey! I thought you said you'd warn me!" Kore shrugged, restarting the video so they could both study the movements more closely before trying to copy them on video. She quietly copied them with her own hands, repeating motions she’d made so many times on her own. After a few more viewings Levi joined in, slow and slightly clumsy at first, but soon picking up the gestures and slotting fluidly into the little routine. With a bright, perhaps slightly tipsy, grin Kore turned to look at him, holding up her DDD. “Are you ready to film?” Levi blushed again, fidgeting with his headphones, but slowly he nodded. She bumped against his shoulder gently, her smile softening with worry. “I promise I won’t put it anywhere unless you say so, and you can always tell me no y’know?” “No. I- I mean, I want to.” He nodded towards the screen. “Just… no, I’ll try.” “Okay.” Kore smiled again. “But first, I’m going to kiss you, okay?” She turned slightly, pressing her lips softly against his this time before pulling back. It was chaste and innocent, and still managed to turn him into a blushing mess. She giggled, crawling forwards to set up the camera while she waited for him to calm down again, despite his mumbles of her unfairness.

The video never made it to deviltube in the end, there were several takes, the first couple of times Levi let his nervousness get the best of him, then as more of the alcohol she’d drunk diffused through her bloodstream Kore got more giggly and her own dancing started to falter. But the final take, the one Kore saved to keep forever, was almost perfect. Until the end when she threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek, the last shot before they fell over out of view of the camera was Levi’s blushing face, frozen in shock as they overbalanced.

#halo.writes #obey me #obey me x oc #female oc #kore's adventures in devildom #mammon #diavolo #leviathan #satan #belphegor #lucifer sucks #solomon #this is entirely self indulgent

[boat-dock]

“Knowing You is for the Better”  chapter 17

School has been really stressful lately but I’m trying to keep updating :))

Not for the first time that Hope wondered if it was strange that she almost never turned on a full moon, she’s done it twice, maybe three times in the three years since she triggered her curse. It wasn’t something she did on purpose, at least she didn’t think that she did. Tonight as she ran under a sliver of a crescent moon, she tried to remember what it felt to run with her pack in the bayou under the full moon, but she found that she barely could. One of the amazing things about her pack was that they could control when they turned, so now most full moons they relaxed and enjoyed their freedom. 

She started her run tonight with a goal in mind, but she was planning on running for a while to take the edge off of her nerves, however that was not what was happening. Her instincts were heightened in her wolf form, but tonight was different, there was a strange magic in the air that was overwhelming her senses. It was pulling her, guiding her through the forest. In the back of her mind she figured that this could be the work of her grandmother Esther, but as a wolf the consequences of that seemed very far away. She’d lost track of how long she had been running or where exactly she was, the ground was solid under her feet as she burst through the tree line and saw a towering mansion in the distance. 

It was a deep cream color that resembled marble, with more windows and arches than Hope could possible count. The years had taken a toll however, vines and cracks crawled up the walls, it looked destitute and abandoned compared to the lively Salvatore house that Hope was used to. She sucked in a deep breath and shifted back, so she was standing completely naked staring at her old family home. 

It was strange to think of the entirety of her father’s side of the family living here together, in fact it was nearly impossible to imagine them living anywhere together for a lengthy period of time without completely burning the place down. She’d known about this house for a while now but had never been, there was never a reason. The family that lived here weren’t the same people that she knew now, of the parts of her past she chose to dwell on this was not one of them. 

The wind whipped around her and she regretted her lack of clothes, not that she was cold, due to her tribrid nature it was very difficult for her to feel the cold, but she was very exposed. She doubted there would be anyone here, most people had forgotten about this old house and even if they remembered it they most definitely avoided it. It was quiet and still as she padded across the grass toward the main door, or at least what she assumed was the main door. 

It creaked open slowly with a push and for a second Hope feared that she wouldn’t be able to cross the threshold because of her vampire nature. It was a ridiculous thought, if the house was in the name of anyone in her family that was a vampire it meant that she could cross without permission and if it wasn’t that meant it was the property of the city and she could enter then as well. 

The first thing she notices is the very thick musty scent of the house, the next is the extreme size, her home in New Orleans was a large house but this mansion was triple its size. There was a grand staircase and a door that led to what Hope could only assume was a ballroom, pushed into a corner was a large table covered with a large sheet. Seizing the opportunity, Hope pulled the sheet away, grinning at the dramatics of it as it fluttered and fell to the ground, then she pulled it around her shoulders so it covered her body from the nonexistent eyes.

Now that she was actually in the house she had no idea what she needed to be looking for, it was strange walking around this large empty house that held her history, she should probably be feeling something right now, but instead she felt numb. That pulling sensation from earlier was still there, in fact it was stronger now than it was before.

Against her better judgement she decided to let it lead her up the stairs, the dusty white sheet dragging behind her like a cloak. She tried to soak in everything around her, some of the paintings had been left behind and were still hanging on the walls. Her dad had put those there, most likely, he was the only member of her family before her that cared about art and he had had this house built so he most likely picked what art that would go on the wall. 

She continued walking down the upstairs hallways, wandering aimlessly and peering into empty rooms until she came upon a room that was overflowing with stuff. 

The walls were lined with books of every size shape and color, some were elegant and extravagant while others were falling apart at the seams, there was even a small section of scrolls tucked away into a top corner hiding in the shadows. Boxes filled with god knows what littered the room, so many that as she tried to make her way around them her sheet kept getting caught on the corners. This room felt right, she’s not sure why, there was no reason that she should believe that whatever answers she was looking for would be in this room, but it really felt like this was where she needed to be. 

A sudden movement broke the stillness that had surrounded her as a small bird took off from a shadow and flew straight out the door she just entered. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest as she jumped to the side. She pulled the sheet closer around her as she recognized the bird that just nearly gave her a heart attack, it was a Starling. 

Her grandmother’s chosen bird and known spies. 

Esther was here, Hope didn’t know where and she didn’t know how but she knew she was here. Esther was the strange force pulling her here, even though it had been a part of her plan to come here all along, her grandmother wanted her here for some reason. Whatever plans Hope had she was sure that Esther had some of her own. How was she going to contact her was her main issue, because no matter the presence she had here she was still dead. 

Ghosts were not a new concept to Hope but that didn’t mean that she enjoyed them. She’d encountered many ghosts throughout her young life and they were almost always hostile to her, but now she was capable of taking care of herself. If her grandmother was looking for a fight she would find one, but something about this didn’t feel threatening to her. That’s not to say that she was comfortable, she definitely was not. She was wearing next to nothing in an old abandoned mansion where she was probably going to meet and communicate with the ghost of her dead grandmother, uneasy didn’t quite cover what she was feeling. 

Hope sucked in the musty air through her nose trying to calm her nerves. She started looking through the boxes, examining the books and trinkets that filled the room. As she was doing so, however, she noticed a strange breeze and smell that began to fill the room. The wind caused goosebumps to erupt across her skin as she tried to place the familiar smell. 

It was earthy with a sharpness to it… almost burnt? That was it, burnt. Incense. But there was no incense burning in the room, or anywhere else in the house that she had been. The thick smell started to overwhelm her, her senses were muddled and Hope suddenly found it very hard to focus or to keep her eyes open. The book she was holding slipped and hit the ground with a bang. 

There was a heaviness to her body that was pulling her slowly to the ground. In the back of her mind she realized that something was wrong, this shouldn’t be happening. But before she could do anything about it her grip went slack on the sheet and she fell to the ground.  

This was not the kind of sleep that Hope was accustomed to. She felt like she was floating and falling in the darkness all at the same time. She waited for the nightmare she had become so used to over the last few months to take hold but strangely it never did. Instead when she finally pried her eyes open it was like she was completely awake but in a different place. Things were sharp and clear unlike every other dream Hope had.

 It was the same forest. Tall dark trees, the onslaught of birds, and the powerful bonfire. But for the first time Hope was in control of the dream. She waited for the birds to swarm like they normally do and for Esther to appear, but they never did. Instead she just seemed to pop into existence by the fire across the clearing from her. Hope took a moment just to watch her, examine her, it was strange that Hope could see herself in this woman that had had a very little part of her life. Esther was the only other member of her family that had the same red hair as Hope, the same blue eyes that she recognized as her father’s and her own. It was the only proof she had that this woman was related to her at all, considering the way her grandmother had treated her as a child. 

She forced her feet to bring her closer. The heat of the fire was pushing her away but she fought against it. “Hello child,” Esther said and the sound of her voice startled Hope. Throughout this entire thing she had never actually heard her grandmother speak, the smoothness of her unplaceable accent was shocking. 

“Hello,” Hope countered, “ You’ve been wanting to speak to me,” with what little plan she had Hope didn’t actually know how to speak to this woman. Yes she was her granddaughter, but they did not know each other and Hope was not here to rekindle a familial relationship. 

“Yes, but you have not been making it easy for me.” 

Hope raised an eyebrow,” I wasn’t aware that I was doing anything,”  everything blurred for a moment before sharpening again. It became clear to Hope that her metabolism was too fast for whatever Esther had drugged her with to hold her under for much longer. Words piled up, ready to spill from her lips but she restrained herself and managed to keep her composure. 

“When you realized that I was trying to contact you I assumed you would have tried harder to talk to me,” Hope couldn’t get a good read on her grandmother. She was used to the strange way her family interacted and behaved but there was something different about Esther. 

Hope absentmindedly racked her fingers through her hair,” What do you want from me?” she asked purposefully not reacting to the jab. Maybe if she could gage what Esther wanted from her she could figure out how to use it to her advantage. 

Esther turned so she was fully faceing her now. Power radiated from her, but Hope radiated it right back. “ I imagine it is the same reason you came here tonight Hope,” she gave a pointed look that put her on edge and paused just long enough for Hope’s skin to crawl,” The gemini twins.” 

The dreamscape swirled dangerously and Hope didn’t know if it was caused by her or Esther but she had to think it was her. Whatever control she’d held onto was dissipating fast and was accelerated by the mention of her girlfriend. What did Esther know about Josie? What could she want with Josie? Or Lizzie for that matter? Hope started to fight against her body to stay asleep.

“Relax child I only wish to help,” Esther said, noticing their fraying reality. 

“Why would you want to help them,” Hope shot back. Every paranoid bone in her body was singing and screaming simultaneously. She fought against the noise. 

“I want to help them because they are important to you,” she said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. But it didn’t make any sense to Hope, Esther never cared for her, she had been a pawn to be given away or killed whenever necessary.  Nothing in her past could allow her to believe that her grandmother could be doing something simply for Hope’s sake. 

“You expect me to believe that you went through all the work to get here and contact me and you want nothing in return,” sarcasm dripped from her words, it was very clear that she was not buying this,” and how are you even here anyway?” 

Esther did a much better job of controlling her emotions than Hope did, she answered all of the questions that were being thrown at her with patience and ease. “You’ve lived here a long time Hope,” She started,” and I’ve been here the entire time watching you grow up.” A tingle ran up her spine at the thought of Esther watching her her entire life. It was creepy but she decided to see where she was going with this, “ watching you grow has made me happy, happier than I’ve been in a long time, it’s given me hope that our family could be something more than monsters again.” 

That’s all they were to Esther, monsters of her own creation, the creatures that went bump in the night. She fixated on that word. It had been following her around her entire life, making it stick out to her in most situations. 

Monster. Abomination. Miracle. 

She forced all these thoughts to the back of her mind  where they normally lived,” What does that have to do with the twins?” she ground out, clenching her teeth so tight that it pained her. The fire flickered out of existence next to them, leaving the dreamscape darkened and melting away around her. 

“Josie makes you happy.” she stated. Hope didn’t like hearing her girlfriend's name on Esther’s lips. She’d come here with the intention of getting Esther to help her with the twins’ situation but she hated that she was one step ahead of her even now. “Sense she makes you happy I want to help you,” until then Hope had kept her face neutral but she squinted at that comment, “because believe me when I say that without my help there will be no saving them.” 

In that moment Hope would have given anything to stay asleep and continue this conversation. She would give anything to save Josie, and if Esther believed that she could do that then Hope sure as hell wanted to listen to her. Hope might not trust her grandmother but there was no doubt that she was a powerful and competent witch with over a thousand years of experience on her, she knew what she was talking about when it came to magic. 

The dream dropped away almost as suddenly as it had appeared and Hope found herself once again sitting on the floor of the library in the mansion. She stood and pulled the sheet back around her. On the floor next to her was a large leather bound book with browning pages. It hadn’t been there before she fell asleep, could it have fallen from a shelf? Flipping the cover open, she recognized it as a grimoire, one of her grandmother’s grimoires. The breeze that she had become so familiar with came back and leafed through the pages like it had a mind of its own. When it settled the pages landed on a spell that Hope was unfamiliar with. It was strange and ancient, but she had no doubt that Esther wanted her to find it. She was exhausted that night to examine the spell then, so she ripped the pages out to be brought back to the school with her.  

She was unsure of how much time had passed but her body ached in a way she was unfamiliar with as she dragged herself back to the school. The moon was considerably lower than when she left on her run earlier that night, even the stars seemed dimmer. Whatever she had been drugged with had taken a toll on her system and her body felt like it was being pulled in a million different directions. Her bones ached and trembled as she shifted for the run back to the school. 

The school was peacefully quiet and still when she returned. Hope couldn’t handle any more excitement or stress tonight. Thoughts of Josie swirled through her mind. Her girlfriend was clearly distressed earlier that evening when they were together, she hadn’t ended things between them, but they were definitely in an uncertain place. 

Maybe this could be the answer the Saltzmans had been searching for for nearly seventeen years. 

She’d done all that she could for tonight, however, all that was left was to sleep. She’d managed her way to her room, nearly unconscious on her feet as she crawled into bed, praying for a dreamless sleep. 

#Legacies #hope mikaelson #hope x josie #hosie #hosie fanfic #ship: hosie #josie saltzman #the mikaelsons #esther mikaelson #lizzie saltzman #Milton (Mg) Greasley #KALEB HAWKINS #rafael waithe #landon kirby #freya mikaelson #the originals #The Mikaelson Family #rebekah mikaelson #marcel gerard #Kol mikaelson #davina claire #Keelin Malraux

[silentexplorer18]

Frigid (Part 2): A Draco Malfoy Short

Summary:  With winter creeping up and leaving a freezing chill in the air, you’re sure this will be your last winter alive.  That is, until one Draco Malfoy appears with a different plan in mind.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: Homeless and orphan reader, but otherwise a pretty sweet fic!

Part 1   Masterlist

Read it here on AO3.

Draco’s home was not at all what you envisioned it to be.

You’d pictured him in some lavish estate, something akin to the manor, though possibly a bit smaller.  He’d always seemed to prefer it that way; luxury and cleanly poise greeted him at every corner of his youth.  However, the flat was nothing similar to that.

Warm.  It was warm, you realized, as your fingertips stung with the telltale burn of frozen skin meeting hot air.  With a wave of his wand, the lamps were flickering to life, a golden glow settling across your skin as you took in your surroundings.  The space was cramped, cluttered in the clean sort of way an organized person deals with having more important belongings than they know what to do with.

Kindly, he took your coat, hanging it in the closet by the door.  It, too, was cramped, with assorted wintery gear and board games peeking out from shelves and boxes.  Smiling kindly, he pointed you toward his living room, gazing in dismay at the way your old Hogwarts uniform hung from your figure, still ragged and dirty from the battle in May.

He really wanted to help you.

He’d never realized how little you possessed; he never noticed how impoverished you’d become.

Leaving you in the living room, he rushed off toward the kitchen to make some tea.  His absence provided you with ample time to wander around, ogling the novels on his shelves, books in piles on the floor.  Stacks of newspapers, swirled across the coffee table, the moving images flowing in inky loops across the page.  Trinkets galore and mismatched furniture decorated the room, making the whole space seem a little more lively.

Sinking down onto his charcoal colored couch, you felt the tingle of magic against your skin.  He’d charmed it.  Even if the styles couldn’t match, he could at least make the colors of his furniture look somewhat similar.  You let yourself bask in that feeling for a moment, the sensation of magic.  It had been a long time since you’d been able to feel it dancing against your fingertips and swirling against your flesh.  You missed it.

~

The tea had been bitter, a strange variety you’d never encountered before, but it seemed to settle Draco’s nerves to see you sipping it.  On all accounts, he’d been interested, curious, even, about your current living situation, but there was a part of him that seemed distracted, like he was worrying over something he couldn’t bring himself to mention.

In the space of his own home, he’d grown more awkward than anything else, unsure of how to proceed.  It was strange to see Draco awkward.

After tea, he walked you through the flat, showing you the various rooms.  In addition to his living room and kitchen, he had a small dining room and bathroom downstairs and an office filled to the brim with books, a spare bedroom, a bathroom, and his bedroom upstairs.  It was quaint, homey in a way your childhood home had never been.  You suspected the Malfoy manor hadn’t been particularly homey, either.

He offered you clothes and a towel for the shower, and you gratefully accepted them.  The hot water was nice, refreshing, and you relished in the sensation of it skittering across your skin.  It had been months since you were able to feel clean.  His soap was vanilla scented, a smell you now realized seemed to radiate through the house.  It made you smell fresh, alive, and the bubbly soap did a number to improve the look and feel of your skin, perpetually grimey from a life on the streets.

~

Draco was in the living room when you left the bathroom.  His eyes were skittering across the page of a worn book, delicate fingers gripping the bindings.  He seemed content, you thought, without the usual scowl that adorned his face at Hogwarts.  Really, he appears better now, steadier on his feet than he was back then, and that realization brings you relief.  Of all the reasons to hate the Malfoy, his affiliation with Voldemort was something you’d been a little more capable of overlooking; it was expected of him.  Had you been with your family still, you would most likely have experienced the same fate.

“What are you reading?”  Your voice was soft, but it still seemed too loud for the quiet of the room.

He glanced up in surprise before his gaze returned to the dusty pages.  “It’s an old novel, something Mother picked up somewhere.”  With a thunk, the pages fell shut.  “You can charm those clothes, if you’d like,” he offered gently, “make them a size more comfortable.”

You shook your head, smoothing your hands down the soft fabric.  “Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.  They’re quite comfortable as they are.  Thank you, though.”

He nodded before his brow furrowed.  Confusion washed across his face.  “Why couldn’t you?”

“No wand.”  You held your hands out in front of you, palms open, the gesture surprisingly vulnerable, and he realized then that he hadn’t seen you with a wand all evening.

“Did you leave it in Diagon?  We can go retrieve it-”  He was already making to get up, mind whirling at how dreadful it had been after the war to not have a wand of his own.  Thankfully, Ollivander had been forgiving enough to offer Draco a replacement - with Potter’s prompting, of course.

Your laugh startled him out of his thoughts.  “I can’t leave what I didn’t have.  It was lost in the battle.”

“But that was months ago!”

You were quiet for a moment before you spoke, eyes fluttering with recollection, “Yes, yes it was.”  Moving opposite of him on the couch, your face remained emotionless.

When he spoke again, his words were much more measured.  “Why didn’t you attain a new one?”

“With what money?”

He nodded.  That was that, then.

“So what are you thinking of for your future?”

“Honestly, I haven’t the faintest idea.  I’m just hoping to make it through winter.”

The truth of your situation was brutal, and Draco felt heat creep into his cheeks, the heavy sensation of guilt pooling in his abdomen.  How could he have spent all that time living in the manor, moving on after the war, bettering himself, when you were out living on the streets?  In a Hogwarts uniform, no less.  He wanted better for you.

~

The next morning, he cooked breakfast.  Much to your delight, the meal was hearty and warm, filling you with energy.  You expected him to throw you back to the streets after the meal, but, in fact, he did just the opposite.  After eating, he offered you a cozy coat and took you to a shop.

Despite your arguing he shouldn’t buy you anything, he purchased some clothes, taunting you with the most garish ones until you stepped in and chose something more sensible for yourself.

Then he took you ‘round his work, leaving you to gape at the massive amount of books on the shelves and hidden tidbits of information magic hadn’t left untouched.  There you saw more of Draco’s kindness as he helped customers with orders and provided expert opinion on which novels to choose.  If he didn’t have something the patron wanted, he made sure to make a note to obtain it.

Lunch was sandwiches and novels, where you danced among bookshelves and lavished in the charmed walls that kept the chill out of the air, and Draco found himself having to resist the temptation to smile at your profound wonder for the little shop.

That evening he left you curled up on his couch with a book on dragons while he wrote a secret letter to Harry Potter asking if there was any way Ollivander would be welcome to offering you a wand that Draco would pay for.

He hoped the man would say yes.

~

It only took a few days of you helping in Draco’s shop for him to realize just how bright you were.  Quick witted and well versed in information beyond the standard Hogwarts curriculum (you’d always possessed a fondness for reading), the blond realized you made an excellent partner.

While at first he was merely sympathetic of your situation, just wanting to help you back on your feet, he found himself hoping more and more that you wouldn’t mind staying even after you had stabilized.  Your perspective, though different than his own in many ways, was interesting, challenging, and constantly kept his mind at work.

Even when he couldn’t see you, he could hear you giggling with patrons through the stacks, offering treats to children that came with their parents.  You’d casually mentioned the idea of running a children’s reading program, among others, while shelving with him one evening, and the delight in your eyes when he didn’t turn away the thought made his heart swell.

~

Potter owled back not too long after that.

He offered to pick you up from Draco’s flat and take you to see Ollivander.  Unsurprisingly, the wandmaker wasn’t keen on the notion of seeing a Malfoy again.  Despite his best efforts to not be disheartened, Draco felt rather forlorn he wouldn’t be able to watch a wand choose you.

It always was rather magical.

~

You greeted Potter warmly, though somewhat confused, when he arrived at Draco’s home.  Neither had been close in school, you recalled.

The blond insisted he had things to do around the house, but encouraged you to go out with Harry.  He was kind but send scathing jests in Harry’s direction.  A defense mechanism, you assumed, leaving you even more confused about why Harry had appeared on Draco’s doorstep.

While you retrieved your scarf from your bedroom, Draco slipped a pouch of coins into Harry’s hand.  Enough for your wand.  And despite his grumpiness that Potter of all people was taking you to get your wand, his heart swelled at the fact that you’d been hesitant to go without him.  He liked that you preferred him over Boy Wonder.

You didn’t miss the pointed look Draco sent Harry before the door was shut.  A silent reminder to take care of you.

~

Harry was stiff and somewhat awkward as he walked with you down the street, but he did his best to engage in small talk.  You tried to be polite with the him, but, truthfully, you’d never been close with Harry in school, and you hadn’t the faintest idea why he offered to spend time with you.

Eventually, the two of you arrived in front of Ollivander’s.

“We’re here,” he stated, gazing up at the face of the old building.

Your eyes shot to his.  “What are we doing here?”

“We’re getting you a wand.”

You tried to protest, but Harry wasn’t hearing it.  Instead, he ushered you into the shop and up to Ollivander’s counter.

The man was kind, welcoming, as he pulled out boxes and offered you a few choices.  Your hands slid across the delicate woods, the sensation rippling memories through your muscles.  When the unmistakable surge of magic swept across your skin, both you and the wand just knew.

Ollivander’s smile was a familiar one as he watched the air swirl around you.  He recognized the glow in your face, the light in your eyes.  It wasn’t the same warmth a child would possess, being given a new piece of themselves; he was giving you back a part of yourself that you’d once lost.  

Harry came forward, breaking both of you out of your trances.  He set the bag of money on the counter, coins clinking quietly.  You were already reacting, turning to grab his arm.  “Harry, please, you don’t need to pay for me.”  It came out as more of a plea than anything else, a pesky desire to not inconvenience anyone.

“I’m not.  Draco is.”

And before you could argue another word, he whisked you out of the shop, wand in hand, and took you back to the flat.

~

Inwardly, you sighed in relief at being home.  But it wasn’t home.  It was Draco’s home, you kept reminding yourself.  It was just temporary; you didn’t belong in his space.

He was in his study doing paperwork when you barged in.  “You shouldn’t have paid for me, Draco.”  You weren’t angry, per say, more aggravated that you couldn't pay him back for all he’d done.

His eyes met your own, annoyance leaking into his voice.  “Potter told you?”

“Yes.”

He looked upset, frustrated with Harry, but didn’t make to speak.

Stepping a little further into the room brought his attention back to you.  “Why did you buy me a wand?”

His body stiffened, mind traveling back to another time, and he grew quiet.  “I remember what it was like after the war, not having magic.  A wand.  It- it wasn’t easy,” he paused, “I didn’t want you to continue going through the same experience.”

You nodded in understanding.  “Thank you,” you said, genuinely meaning it.  Turning, you sat in one of his chairs, curled amongst the books, gazing at the caramel colored wood in your palm, grateful for everything he’d done and knowing a simple ‘thank you’ wasn’t even close to portraying just how thankful you were.

“You aren’t mad, are you?”  For the first time in a long time, Draco looked unsure, and the expression softened your heart even more.

Shaking your head, you replied, “No, not at all.  I just really wish there was some way I could repay you.”

“Then stay.”  The words tumbled from his lips before he could even think about what he was doing.

“What?”

His face colored, ruby red streaking up his neck.  “Stay.  Come work in the shop with me.”

“I’m already doing that,” you chuckled.

“But after you save up money, too.”  He looked so nervous, flustered, an emotion that you were sure you reciprocated, but he seemed so genuine that he wanted you around that you knew he wasn’t just offering for your sake.

“Okay.”

~

A year later, you were walking through the familiar cobbled paths of Diagon Alley, wind spiraling the lightweight snow against the walls of shops and across the faces of unsuspecting patrons.

Turning a corner, you came upon the familiar nook you’d once spent your childhood growing in.  Your pile of old blankets was gone, a few dried leaves stuck in the crannies against the bricks here and there.  It seemed more grimey than it had been when you were residing there, but otherwise, it looked the same.  Little traces of your charms lingered against the chilly bricks, remnants of your youth.

Breaking you from your trance, an arm wrapped around your shoulders and Draco’s voice echoed through your ears.  “Are you ready to go home, darling?  I think we’ve done enough holiday shopping for one day.”

You nodded, giving him a faint smile as he pecked your temple.  He offered to carry your bags, leading you away from the dark alleyway with the gentlest of pulls.  And you realized that through all the time you’d been on your own, a little help was all you needed to get back on your feet.  Draco had saved your life, but your kindness, your bright presence and innovate mind, was something he needed in his life, too.  You both needed each other, and you were just lucky Draco had found you in time.

He shivered as the two of you rounded the corner on your way back to the flat, “Thank goodness.  It’s positively frigid out here.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!  I hope you enjoyed it!  Please let me know what you think, and happy holidays! :)

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine

[haledamage]

"I think we're stuck." for Kai?

(trigger warning for claustrophobia, brief mentions of child abuse (no worse than the stuff mentioned in-game in Aloth’s backstory))

“Oh, lovely,” Aloth said drolly, staring into the room he’d just discovered. “A dark, ominous closet. My favorite.”

“Wonderful.” Kai managed to sound even less enthusiastic about the discovery than he did as she stepped up next to him. “You know, when I said I wished we could have some more time alone together, this isn’t quite what I had in mind.”

“I know.” He took her hand, gave it a quick squeeze, then let her go. “At least those journals look promising. Maybe we’ll actually find some clues in this one.”

“Or spiders.”

He chuckled. “I suspect we’ll find spiders either way. After you, my dear. “

Kai didn’t hide her reluctance to enter the tiny room, but she did it anyway. It was barely big enough for the two of them to have room to move about without having to climb over each other. She suspected she could lay on the floor and be able to touch all four walls, and the ceiling was low enough that the cobwebs hanging from it caught in Aloth’s dark hair, silver strands clinging to him and aging him before his time. The three walls that didn’t house the door were covered in shelves with stacks of old, crumbling books and intriguing esoteric trinkets.

Without a word, the two of them turned to opposite shelves and started sifting through their contents. She had to resist the historian part of her brain that told her to take everything so she could study it at her leisure. They were here for a purpose, and part of that purpose involved leaving as small of a trace as possible of their passing.

Still. It was very tempting.

“Oh!” Aloth exclaimed suddenly, drawing her attention away from the golden curio she’d been inspecting. “I think I found something. I can’t read the text, but it looks familiar.”

She peeked over his shoulder at the book he was holding, squinting to try and see it in the unlit room. “It’s Engwithan. It’s too dark in here to decipher, but I recognize the language.”

“That seems promising,” he muttered to himself, tapping his finger on the corner of the book as he thought. Kai knew what he was thinking; he was trying to decide if they should risk exploring more, or take their prize and get out. He nodded, coming to a decision. “We should go. We’ve already been here too long.”

“Agreed. We’ll take it back to our room and see what there is to see. Worst case scenario, we can come back.”

They tried to put everything else back where they’d found it, more or less, then picked their way back to the door. It had drifted closed while they were exploring, the old wood warped and uneven from age. Aloth reached it first and moved to open it, but it didn’t budge.

He tried again; the doorknob rattled as he tried to shake the latch free, but it remained unmoved. He threw his shoulder into it, trying to force it, but it still remained spitefully closed.

Kai wished she’d thought to bring her pistol. There was more than one way to open a door.

He turned to her, a frown set deep in his brow, and she knew what he was going to say before he said it. “I think we’re stuck.”

It was amazing how much dread could come from just four words. “Of course we are. Gods forbid anything go simply for a change. How long do you think before someone comes looking for us?”

“If we’re lucky? A few hours.” His eyes roamed the room as if trying to find a different way out, but there were no windows, no spaces there could possibly be any hidden doors or alcoves. “If we aren’t… Edér will probably notice we’re missing by morning.”

“Galawain’s flea-bitten arse!” Kai growled and kicked the door. It did not fly dramatically open like she’d hoped. She leaned back against the door and pressed her head against it.

“Feel better, my dear?” he asked dryly.

“I’m sorry, darling. I just…” She closed her eyes, trying to keep her composure, but she was breathing too fast. “I don’t like tight spaces.”

“I… had forgotten,” Aloth said softly. “Forgive me.”

“Not your fault. It’s been a while.”

“That it has.” He tried to hide it, but Kai could still hear the pain in his voice.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Aloth Corfiser. We’ve talked about this.” They had, in fact, talked about it exhaustively. He still felt guilty for leaving Caed Nua, even though they’d agreed he needed to, and she still felt guilty for not going with him, even though they’d agreed she needed to stay in Caed Nua. It was a circular argument, one with no clear answer and no winner and all it did was reopen wounds that would be better left alone so they could heal.

“I know,” he said, voice so low now it was almost a whisper. She hadn’t realized how much her hands were trembling until he laced his fingers with hers. “But I can still never get back those years we were apart.”

“We have plenty of years ahead of us that we’ll spend together.” Even on the edge of panic, that still drew a small smile to her face. “Though we’ll probably spend them locked in this gods damned closet.”

“Kai. Look at me.” Aloth’s voice was gentle but firm, and she found herself responding to the command almost unconsciously. He was standing very close, his face barely inches from hers, and instead of making the suffocating closeness of the room worse, his proximity actually made it a little easier for her to breathe. His pale eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. “You are safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. Just keep your eyes on me.”

He kept talking about nothing in particular, his voice calm and his gaze steady, his hand a lifeline in hers. Every breath came a little easier than the one before. She stopped shaking as the panic ebbed away, and the walls moved back to a reasonable distance once more. Finally, she sagged against him, pressing her face to his shoulder and just breathing him in for a moment. He smelled the same way he always did, the vanilla-and-dust scent of old books and the clean sharp ozone scent of his magic and a hint of woodsmoke that he picked up from her.

His arms went around her, holding her close, and the last of the tension drained from her and she could finally think again. Her thoughts raced like they were trying to make up for the time lost panicking. Maybe one of these shelves had a key. They couldn’t be the first kith to lock themselves in here. Or maybe… “I don’t suppose Iselmyr knows how to pick locks.”

“Fye, ainlie if ye've git an axe.”

“Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.” Kai’s own Awakened memories weren’t any help either. Iorena had been a soldier through and through. She knew how to open a stuck door using a spear as a lever, but that didn’t exactly help right now. A memory from her own childhood surfaced, hazy but possibly useful. “Maybe I can. Do you have a letter opener? A… a hair pin? A quill you’re not especially attached to?”

“Perhaps.” Aloth raised a curious eyebrow, but started searching his pockets for anything that might fit the bill. “Why would you know how to pick locks?”

“When we were children, my younger sister Ariana taught me.” Her pockets were distressingly empty, so she scanned the shelves to see if they had anything promising. “It’s been about thirty years since I’ve done it, but it’s worth a try.”

Aloth beat her to the punch, plucking a single patinated copper hairstick that probably predated the gods themselves from the shelf above her head. He offered it to her and she turned to the door to try and coerce it open. “Why would you need to know how to pick locks as a child?”

“Our mother favored solitary confinement as punishment,” she told the lock so she wouldn’t have to look at Aloth while she spoke. She knew what she’d see there: pain, sympathy, and enough understanding to make her angry, both on his behalf and on her own. “While I turned to reading as a way to pass the time, Ari was more proactive. She would sneak out in the middle of the night and rearrange Mother’s furniture, or steal things from Father and hide them throughout the house, and lock herself back away before they awoke in the morning. They never did figure out who was doing it.”

“How terrible,” he said softly, and he clearly wasn’t referring to Ariana’s poltergeist impression.

“No worse than anything you endured as a child.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No. It doesn’t.” Kai really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. There wasn’t enough space in this room for the two of them and the looming specter of her mother. Lucky for her, she was offered a very easy change of subject as the lock made a loud clicking sound. “Aha!” She gave her makeshift pick a careful twist and the door swung open. She climbed to her feet and gestured to the now-empty doorway. “After you, my dear.”

Neither of them said a word as they crept through the empty building and back out onto the street, then through a nearby alley. They emerged into a lantern-lit courtyard, music and laughter pouring out from the open doors of a tavern, and slowed their pace. Just another normal couple enjoying the evening air. The inn they were staying at was only a few buildings down, and they went straight up to their room as soon as they got there.

As soon as they stepped inside, Aloth rounded on Kai, hands falling onto her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… getting there.” No use lying to him; he’d see through it anyway. She brought a hand up to his face, tracing her fingers along his cheek. “Thank you for keeping a level head, darling. If I’d been there alone, I suspect I’d have never made it out.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You’ve done the same for me. We take care of each other.” He said it like it was a simple fact of life. Water is wet; grass is green; we take care of each other. It made Kai adore him even more, just like it always did. “I got you something.”

He pulled the Engwithan book from his bag, then reached into it again and pulled out a smaller book, barely the size of his palm, and a bronze statuette of what looked like a deity, though it didn’t look like any of the ones they knew. They were small enough items that probably wouldn’t be noticed as missing, unless the owners did a thorough inventory - in which case their visit would have been noticed anyway.

Kai took the palm-sized book from him and opened it, curiosity getting the better of her. In it was page after page of faded writing in what looked like a very old form of Eld Aedyran, and the pages were so old they threatened to crumble at her touch. “You stole ancient artifacts for me,” she whispered, awed.

Aloth smiled proudly at her clear approval of his thievery. “Of course I did. I know the woman I married.”

She carefully took the books and statue from his hands and set them on the table. Then she walked back to him, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him, pouring every ounce of gratitude she had into it - not just gratitude for the pilfered gifts, but for his support, and his love, and just for being there.

“You’re welcome,” he said breathlessly once they parted, already leaning in for another kiss.

“That’s just the start, darling,” Kai said when they next broke apart. She pulled away from him enough to undo the clasps on her armor, letting it and the shirt she wore underneath fall to the floor. “We’ve got all night. Allow me to thank you properly.”

#watcher wednesday #kai cirdani #kailoth #times like this I'm reminded that Evie Carnahan was a big inspiration for Kiki's character #nothing makes her happier than stealing priceless artifacts from bad people #and aloth is happy to exploit that fact as often as possible #this was my hurt/comfort fic I wrote #I had a migraine so I made poor kiki have a panic attack :/ but we're both okay now! #brightoncemore

[lokis-lady-death]

Slither Pt 10

Loki x Reader

Reader is a museum curator that has been put in charge of a Viking/Norse exhibit at the Smithsonian Museum. While going through all the artifacts, she comes across a strange relic that seems to have a mind of it’s own. She accidentally stumbles into an ancient world of gods.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Recap:

As a museum curator, you have handled hundreds if not thousands of ancient artifacts for the Smithsonian Museum, yet none of them could have prepared you for the viking exibit’s newest attraction: the Chains of Sygn. Though they appeared to be just another trinket of a time long forgotten, the snake-like piece of jewelry sparked to life before your very eyes and transported you to the majestic kingdom of Asgard. 

That’s where you met Loki, the god of mischief. He certainly lived up to his title, his quick wit and ominous magic luring you in while his hidden agenda kept you on edge. After fighting some apprehension, as well as a possessed necklace with a mind of its own,there was finally a sense of trust building between the two of you. 

Perhaps even something a bit more. 

The only problem? Just you and Loki were beginning to see eye to eye, the original owner of the Chains of Sygn request their return, meaning you will be counting down the days until the god is no longer a part of your life. 

Facing an uncertain future with the god of mischief, you let yourself get talked into a night out with him along with your coworker Chris Evans and his friend, a handsome british actor whose motives are quite clear: Tom Hiddleston. 

Slither 10

Tom walked around the front of thee also  car, his eyes locked on yours while a playful smirk stayed on his face. After sliding in, he pulled up a menu on the touch screen built into the dashboard to enter in the club’s address. When he was finished, you heard the navigator’s calm, robotic tone confirm, “Setting your course.” 

Tightly wrapping your fingers around the steering wheel, once his seatbelt click into place, you shifted gears and laid down on the gas pedal. The tires spun excitedly under the Jaguar, Chris and Tom both grabbing hold of their seats as the car rushed out of the parking lot, while in the back seat a wild grin stretched across Loki’s face. 

You rolled out like a Nascar racer as AC/DC's Highway to Hell played through the stereo, the tires screeching down the road while the men had varying levels of eagerness and fear etched into their eyes. It wasn’t the sort of thing you would normally do, but something about tonight seemed to spark a fire in your belly. Perhaps it was the mystic allure and forbode of Loki, or the intensely attractive and flirtatious Tom, or even the hilarity of Chris’s horror. 

Whatever the cause, you knew this was going to be a night to remember. 

That is, until coming across one of the many intersections on your way down the main street. The light flashed from yellow to red before you could pass, making you slam to an abrupt halt and throw everyone forward with a thud.

“Those are some tight breaks,” you laughed innocently as the others recuperated from the jolt. 

Chris snapped from the back seat, “I’d like to get to the club in one piece, y/n!”

Rolling your eyes, you happened to see something that grabbed at your attention. “Oh, look, the zoo!” 

The street sign read overhead in large bold letters ZOO followed by a plethora of animal images stamped into the concrete wall along the walkway. The Smithsonian Zoo of Washington DC was always one of your favorite places to visit, though it was obviously closed at this time of night. 

"That's not where we're going." 

You cut your eyes at Chris in the rear view mirror. "Well, it would have been my choice. But that's fine, I'm enjoying driving anyway." 

“We’re doomed,” he groaned, sinking deeper into his seat. 

Loki leaned forward to see what you were referring to, taking a special interest in the banisters lining the light poles leading down the sidewalk. "Interesting. A place that houses animals in the middle of a city?"

You softly answered, “They’re not like out-out. It’s perfectly safe, they’re behind fences.” 

He huffed, “How disappointing.”

“What’ll be really disappointing is when y/n kills us and we don’t make it to the club,” Chris threw in. 

“She’s just having a bit of fun,” Tom argued weakly, his own voice holding a slight tremor. “Though as I’ve noticed driving through the city, there’s enough stops to keep speeding… Minimal.” 

“Oh, that doesn’t sound entertaining in the slightest,” Loki sighed, his hand coming up to your shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. He leaned up, whispering so only you could hear, “The lights need to be green for you to go,yes?” 

You nodded, feeling a flutter in your chest from the innocent touch. “Lights green for me, red for other lanes.” 

He gave a court nod and leaned back into his seat. Just before your light changed, you glanced at him in the rear view mirror, noticing a faint glow behind his gaze. 

And just like that, the light turned green and you were off. 

Tom and Chris stiffened as you gained speed, only having to move around someone a few times before the next light came. You were about to come up to a red light, but just before you pressed the brake, the light instantaneously flashed to green. Cars in oncoming lanes slammed brakes at the sudden light change as your lane received the right of way. 

You revved the engine and zoomed on through, ignoring the sideways glance from Tom. 

Every light in your way stayed green or changed just before you got to it, giving you a thrill that kept you slightly building speed. You knew Loki must be involved, though you couldn’t sort out just how he managed such a feat. Chris and Tom seemed just as entranced by it, neither commenting on the speed, rather staying wide eyed and agasped by the miraculous luck. The sound of the high powered engine mixed with the roar of tires and insane cackles from the others in the car as you zoomed down the street, turning when instructed, sending the car into a slight drift you managed to control. 

It felt like a scene out of a Fast and Furious movie, Loki sucking up the chaos like a psychotic sponge, Chris trembling in the back corner, and Tom sitting at your side with a mixture of enthusiasm and panic on his face until the saving words came out of the navigator once you settled into a parking space outside of the club. 

“You have arrived.”

“Oh thank god,” you heard Chris cry out while clinging to the back of Tom’s seat. Tom, on the other hand, calmly -though quite stiff- climbed out and lifted it up, letting Chris fall out to the safety of the ground. “That is NOT how I’m going back home!” 

You couldn’t help but ignore his pain, turning the car off and taking one last moment to run your fingers over the smooth leather of the steering wheel. 

That was possibly the most fun you had ever had driving a car, the rush of endorphins pushing you to go faster and faster was more invigorating than you had expected.

“You were quite magnificent,” Loki whispered to you just before brushing a hand down your arm and moving across the seat to get out. 

"It was a little reckless," you admitted, though you couldn't conceal how thrilled you had become. 

"Reckless looks good on you." 

Ignoring his comment and the rush of heat in your cheeks, you got out to Tom holding his hand to you for the keys. 

With a shrug of your shoulders you offered, “Guess it’s not too much car for me after all.” 

He narrowed his eyes while his smile grew. "It seems your godly friend has some tricks up his sleeves. Did you know he could do such a thing? Control traffic lights?" 

You glanced over to Loki as he was straightening his suit with Chris beside him still shaken from the drive. There was always denial: you could deny what was obvious to Tom like you had done before, or you could listen to your gut and realize it was a futile attempt. Chris might have been naive enough to think everything that happened was just extreme coincidences, but the quick witted brit seemed to immediately believe the unbelievable. After letting you nearly kill him in a borrowed Jaguar, you wondered if it was even worth bothering with anymore. 

"I didn't…" You finally got out, "He's just full of surprises."

For the briefest of moments, Tom's smile dissipated, leaving behind something much more serious that was quite recognizable. "Hopefully all his surprises will be that innocent."

Your brow furrowed at the comment, but you couldn't question it further as he waved an arm towards the brightly lit main entrance, announcing to everyone, “Our palace awaits!”

It was no Asgard, but for DC, it felt regal in its own right. The white stone walls of the club Ultrabar were brightly colored by the massive blue and white spotlights that beconned the young hip crowd to its doors. Dance music rang out every time the doors flew open, the sounds of a bass thumping to an irresistible dance beat echoing into an otherwise quiet night. Tom went on ahead, shimmying his hips as you all crossed over towards the sound, like he couldn’t contain his urge to move and was entranced by the tone. Loki came around to your other side, sliding a hand onto the small of your back and offering you a grin when you glanced up at him. 

“is this truly a palace? It's not exactly what I would have imagined… "

" No, Tom is just being theatrical. It's just a club." 

"And what does one do in this type of club?ust we join?” 

“No, ha, no. It's not that type of club, that's just a name for it. It's a bar with a dance floor. We’re going there,” you pointed across to the building you were all walking towards, “To do that,” you pointed to Tom who was now coercing Chris into side stepping with him. 

The god's nose wrinkled at the notion. “I don't believe I'll be doing… That.” 

You laughed, looping an arm around his and bringing him closer, much to his own surprise and pleasure. He relaxed under your touch and together the two of you followed the others up to the mass of people waiting to get inside. Once entrance fees were covered--all by courtesy of the ever gracious Tom- you went inside to the main dance floor. 

Despite the aged, elegant architect of the bar’s exterior, inside it was a stark modern style, mostly white marble with underglows of blue and white lights giving soft illumination under the bars and by the floor. Large glowing spheres lit up above the dance floor where several people were already moving against each other to the music the DJ pumped through the stereo system. 

It was so loud you could hardly hear yourself think, feeling a nerve pull inside of you at the mass amounts of bodies crashing into one another while they danced along to the techno beats. Chris and Tom moved on with ease while you and Loki stayed along the wall, watching as everyone else grooved along. It only took a second for them to disappear, leaving you and the god of mischief alone with hundreds of unsuspecting partiers. 

"Is this what Midgardians call dancing?" the god of mischief asked absurdly serious. "Because what they're doing is not dancing. They look to be possessed."

You chuckled to yourself, imagining how bizarre the latest bump and grind must look to someone who was most likely used to balls, waltzes, and etiquette. "Yeah, this is considered dancing. It's not all that bad…" 

His nose wrinkled in disgust as he watched a girl start to twerk on an unsuspecting victim, making you laugh even harder. "Is this something all Midgardians do?" 

"Ha, no, not all of us. This isn't exactly my scene." When Loki's brow raised at your verbiage, you elaborated, "What I mean is this is more of Chris's kind of fun. I personally don't care for partying."

"Partying," he echoed, the god turning back to gaze at the masses while his brow stayed furrowed deep in thought. 

He looked to be plotting something. 

Just as you went to break his concentration, Tom reappeared with drinks in each hand. 

"Oh, I don't really…" You started as Tom held a glass out to you, but his smile and raised brows pressed you to reach out to grab the cocktail. 

"Where did your friend go?" he asked, making you turn your head to find that, sure enough, Loki had disappeared just that quickly. Your head cut from side to side, certain he was there just a moment ago. 

"I don't know, he was just here!?"  

Taking a step forward, you were about to go search for him when Tom eased into your path to stop you. "Did the god already get bored with mortal dates?" You could hear a salty tone in his comment, but brushed it off, instead taking a large gulp of your overly strong, pineapple mixed drink before answering sharply. 

"First of all, this isn't a date. Second, he's less than impressed with your dance skills."

Tom scoffed, as if personally offended by the suggested notion. "Then perhaps we should show him real dancing."

The words hadn't the time to resonate over the still loud, thumping beats of the music that filled the now shrinking space between you. Tom took your free hand and started to lead you to the dance floor. 

"No, no, no, no, no!" you repeated, trying to pull against him without spilling your drunk. "I don't dance!"

"Everyone dances," Tom spoke in a low tone, bringing his mouth to your ear so you could hear him softly finish, "One just needs to find the right partner." 

At that you couldn't help but laugh, "And you think that's you?" 

"I don’t see why not," he answered slyly, turning his hand in yours so that your fingers laced. "If given a proper chance, who knows what I might could be to you. I’m certainly not going away anytime soon. If anything, I may could find a reason to stay here longer..." 

His blue eyes reflected you like the ocean, so calm and alluring. A small part of you was tempted to give into his charm and let him try to sweep you off your feet, yet a nagging feeling in the back of your mind kept you unswayed. 

"I need to find Loki," you reasoned, taking your hand from his. Though his disappointment was apparent, he offered a small smile and shrug as he went back onto the dance floor. 

You sipped your drink as you made your way along the outer edges of the crowd, imagining he wouldn't have wandered out into the chaos of dancers after his comment earlier. There was a pressure building in the back of your mind that build up just as you realized there was the real possibility that Loki was a momentary moment in your life. Knowing the Chains of Sygn were soon going to be out of your possession, it seemed that there was no real certainty to any relationship between you and the god of mischief. 

Not that there was a relationship, you reminded yourself, but all the same. 

The feelings beginning to form between you were apparent enough to a stranger like Tom, while the truth of the matter was this was all temporary. 

This wasn’t his world. 

He was only visiting. 

You had nearly circled back around when you found the restroom stalls and wondered if he had gone there. Setting your glass on the bartop, you wondered how long it could take to wait for he to just walk back out if he was in there. Looking around, it didn't seem like a bad idea at the time to just prop the door open and yell in. Pushing it just enough with your foot, you called out, "Hey, Loki? You in there? 

No answer. 

You were going to give up, but the nagging in the back of your mind wouldn't stop. Maybe he didn't hear you? Taking a tentative step in, you called out again.

From behind, a hand grabbed your shoulder, a smooth voice answering casually, "Yes?" You squealed, covered your mouth while turning on your heels to see Loki watching you with amusement. "Oh, pet, you look positively flustered. I didn't mean to startle you." 

You were about to shove him back out of the door when someone started to come in behind him. Panicked, you dragged him into an unoccupied stall and latched the door behind you. 

"Are we hiding?" Speaking in a whistler, he didn't sound confused, only curious. 

In a hushed tone, you quickly got out, "This is the men's bathroom! I'm not supposed to be in here!" 

"Then… Why are you?" 

Cutting your eyes up at him, disregarding the cramped quarters squishing the two of you together, you listened to the hurried footsteps of the bathroom patron as they used the urinal and then went back out to the door. Just when you thought you were in the clear, you heard the door open again to a new man coming in. 

"Dammit!" 

"If you're not supposed to be in here, then why are you and why have you dragged me into this ghastly place? I'm certain if this washroom is for men, I would be fine." To your horror, his hand went out to take the door latch. 

Narrowing your eyes, you poked him in the chest, arguing, "I'm in here because I was looking for you!" 

"Oh? Why is that?" he pressed, a mischievous smile curling at the edge of his lips. 

"Don't look at me like that, you disappeared and I was worried."

You knew by the widening of his grin that he was enjoying your anguish, even more so when another man came in. 

"Shit!" 

"I'm certain if we just walk out they won't be too concerned with what you were in here doing."

"I'm DEFINITELY not coming out of a bathroom stall at a club with a man I hardly know, no, no, no, that's not gonna happen, I am NOT a cliche, I didn't even get any, I'm not gonna be able to handle that level of embarrassment, I'm not even close to drunk enough for that," you rambled shaking your head, until Loki's finger pressed firmly against your lips to silence your sputtering. 

"I can get us out of here, but you'll need to calm down. It requires concentration and silence."

Your eyes widened at the sound of someone juggling the bathroom's latch, knowing you must have gotten too loud. "Yo, no shit, I think there's a girl in there," a man on the other side of the door loudly cackled. 

"Yes," you pleaded, turning to face him, "Get us out of here-" 

That was all he needed to hear, quickly wrapping his arms tightly around you to bring you close against his chest, the warmth of his body fulfilling a craving you had no idea you had. Without meaning to, you nuzzled into him at feeling the air being vacuumed out of your chest, but just that quickly returning to you like gasping after being iunder water. Your stomach, felt like it had undergone a series of loops in a rollercoaster when you felt Loki’s hands drop down to your sides. 

“Well?” he calmly announced, “We’re out of the bathroom. 

When you opened your eyes, it was immediately clear you were no longer in the bar. In fact, once you turned around, the sight it took your breath away. You both had reappeared on a cement pathway lined by vast greenery overlooking a small, cascading waterfall that twinkled in the moonlight. Bobbing up and down around the scene were several multicolored orbs of light that illuminated where you stood in different glows. Slightly twirling around to take a look at it all, you recognized exactly where he had brought you.. 

"Is this… the zoo?" 

It was so familiar and foreign at the same time, looking just as it had the many times you had come before, but at night with the added theatrics you could hardly recognize it as a place on earth. The orbs floated delicately in the air above your heads like illuminated soap bubbles. Loki watched as you took it all in, a childlike wonder in your eyes and a wide smile gracing your face with the enthusiasm you had shown his magic countless times. 

"You mentioned that the club wasn't in your taste. I thought since you mentioned it earlier, you'd prefer to be here instead." 

Moving out along the walkway, you could see the animal exhibits dimly lit by the moonlight, it's creatures of the day sleeping peacefully unaware of the zoo’s guests while the nocturnal beasts began to stir. 

"This...this is incredible, Loki," you spoke honestly, still taking in the reality of what he had done. "I can't believe you brought us here."

"Actually, that's not all I've done." His hand took yours and then he asked you to close your eyes. You did so, biting down on your lips to try and hide how eager you were when he led you a few steps away. There was a noticeable breeze and a warmth absorbed into your skin like rays of the sun burning through the night. Your heart thumped in your chest when his hands left you standing alone, still blind to the world. 

It was just another second until you felt him come from behind, his fingers gingerly wrapping around your hips as his body pressed against your back. He spoke slowly, his face beside yours when he instructed, "Alright, Lady y/n… I want you... to open your eyes."

Taking a deep breath, you followed his instruction, unsure of what exactly to expect.

Though it can be established that you certainly weren’t intending to encounter a large wild animal that looked to be sizing you up for it’s next dinner. 

The spots, the color, the build, all lit up by the lightning balls was enough to leave no question as to what you were looking at: a full grown cheetah, standing just a few feet away from you both. You were so stunned you couldn't even scream, instead leaning backwards into Loki to try and back away. 

He caught your shoulders and held you in place. 

"LOKI, THAT'S A CHEETAH!" you quietly yelled to him in panic, never taking your eyes off the hunter. 

"Yes, I read the name of the exhibit. Why are you so frightened, darling, she won't hurt you." Your heart was pounding in your chest while you tried to steady your breathing. "I wouldn't have brought you here if it wasn't safe, Lady y/n. I give you my word, you’re perfectly fine." 

His words did little to soothe your nerves, but looking over to the large cat, you realized she looked more complacent than ferocious. Feeling you start to relax, Loki took your hand in his and urged you down to your knees with him as he held your hand out. 

"No, no, no, no, no," you repeated, turning your face and trying to pull back your hand, "This is not a good idea." 

He never released his grip as he leaned you forward, "Lady y/n-" You felt a warm, moist nose press against your hand timidly, then pull back. Peaking up, you saw the cheetah had come much closer, walking past your hand to be nearly face to face with you. Feeling you tense, Loki wrapped his arms around you and brought you into his lap as he held out his own hand to the beast. You watched as the cheetah got even closer, her face barreling into Loki's hand to have him pet her. 

That's when you heard the steady pur come from the big cat's throat. Your jaw dropped and this time you offered no resistance when Loki urged your hand back onto her furry face. She nuzzled into your hand to have your fingers to dig behind her ear.

"I'm petting a cheetah."

"Yes, you are," he answered with a smile, watching you reach another hand out to stroke the spots along her back.

Glancing over your shoulder at him, there was no denying how comfortable you had been just laying across his lap on the ground. It was as if neither of you realized how intimate the moment had become, suddenly switching from the innocence of petting the cheetah only to be just now notice the feel of one another. His fingers traced down your arm only to intertwin his fingers with your own. You thought he would say something by the motion of his lips but just as quickly his mouth closed. Instead, Loki’s other hand came up to take your chin and slightly tilt your head up. 

“Y/n… There’s something I need to tell you...” His thumb slid over the very edge of your lip and you felt a quiver up your spine at the anticipation of what he could be about to say. 

Yet before he could go on, your eyes widened at the sight of something walking around behind him. 

An elephant was coming your way. 

“Loki!” It caused you to shift in your seat, innocently dragging your hand up the length of his thigh to turn your body around. The motion was awkward but you were too scared of being squished to care. Loki, in his normal unreasonably casual way, turned to see what had caused your uproar. “Darling, I told you, you’re perfectly safe.”

“You mean you knew the elephant was out walking around the zoo?” Saying it out loud, you felt a sour pit in your stomach. “Wait a minute, exactly what did you do?”

He shrugged, “I let a few of the animals out to wander a bit.” Before you could voice the unmistakable apprehension written all over your face, Loki hurried to his feet, holding a hand up to slow your thoughts. “Oh come now, surely you don’t think I would just release these creatures without any foresight?”

“Creatures? How many exactly-” 

“That’s irrelevant,” he cut you off, “The most consequential point is I enchanted the zoo so none may of them may leave the premises. They’ll all return to their cages by sun down.” 

“I’m much more concerned about something eating or trampling us!” His brow raised at your high pitched voice, making you add, “I guess that means you did an enchantment for that, too, huh?” 

Letting out a sigh, you glanced back out to where the elephant was, his trunk gently swaying as he wandered passed. A little further out you could make out a few zebra trotting passed a very bored lioness that lounged against the carousel. Just then, the lights of the grand carousel lit up, causing the animals to become alert. At the sound of the music beginning to play, the lioness scattered and the zebra hurried away. You smiled at the grandness of it, turning back to Loki in time to see his hand come out to you. One hand held yours out while the other was fixated to your lower back, him digging ever so slightly into the fabric of your dress.

You Inhaled sharply, trying to ignore the intense urges bubbling up from deep inside the pit of your stomach. It didn't help when he simultaneously pulled you against him, his lips briefly brushing across your fingers. 

“Lady y/n, may I have this dance?”

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#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x oc #loki x you #loki x reader #Lady Death Writes

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | The Pocketwatch

remember that this is a first draft with only minor edits, but enjoy! comments and reception is always appreciated. 

-

“How does it work?” Ayu’s legs almost jumped in curiosity. Such magic was exactly like what he had seen from a comic, only, without a simple trinket. 

“You open and close it– but that’s not what’s important at the moment!” Eilwen swatted her free hand around Ayu’s face. Ayu complied as she said, “What would you like to know first?”

“Oh,” he reminded himself, “yeah… I really need this one, so can you tell me about the monsters?”

“What monsters?”

“You gotta know them.” Ayu’s arms fumbled to recreate their image. “They’re big, scary, kinda ghost looking but like to stab?”

“The Iblis monsters?” An eye twitched from Eilwen’s confused look.

“That’s what they’re called?”

“Oh, my Lord-.” Eilwen placed a hand on her forehead. “You actually don’t know anything.”

“Can’t you tell me already?” Ayu’s expression lowered from her tired attitude. 

Eilwen’s brows furrowed. “I’m afraid not. Alice told me not to give information on them but I didn’t actually think you needed it!”

“I get it. I’m dumb, but damn…” Ayu picked on some dry skin; no solution to the question making him itch. “Then, why is this all happening anyways? For everybody and me, I mean.”

“Oh well that’s simple enough.” For the first time, she opened her pocket watch. And with the snap of it closing shut yet again, the flame in the middle of the room began to fade. The room melted along with the light as new ones grew into new scenery. In front of them was a boy, brightness all around him in his short stature. His light figure glowed from his white hair and skin, while his tunics and layers of silk matted him to a royal status with his circlet made of gold and shiny coal. “You already know Akeldama.”

The rare sight stunted Ayu, and in a baffled surprise, he asked, “Am I able to… touch him?”

“Why so?”

“I’ve never been able to, and its making me wonder,” he answered truthfully. 

A click of the tongue was heard. “For him, no.” Eilwen walked towards the image smiling in pride. “They’re similar to an illusion; something clear to our minds but not our bodies.” She waved over the boy. Her hand passed through his body with ease. 

Ayu processed her words. “… So, if I put my mind to it, can I punch him or something?”

“No.” The boy mumbled a swear. “But let’s move on with your question: Akeldama is some sort of being with immense amount of power and dark magic. Presumably, a devil of sorts, which would explain his terrible mannerisms in ruling.”

The scene cleared from blurry vision Ayu had not realized before. Flames formed behind Akeldama in vigorous fashion. Small houses built under the burning light and drifted away in ashes. 

“He’s killed thousands, as legends say.” Her voice was void of pity. She stared at the view with Ayu, her face dull without a sign from tragedy. “But, he also saved dozens. Horribly, if I may add.” 

Eilwen clicked her watch yet again. The scene formed into the forest Ayu stood only minutes ago. As the land filled in focus, the woman walked on. Ayu followed. 

Stepping upon soundless grass, a blur of color came from the distance. Viewing closer, the blur changed to people in all shapes and sizes. Their clothes shined in all sorts of colors as they all gathered in a circle. Eilwen entered into the clump, Ayu followed. His body shifted between people as he bumped into many. 

“Didn’t you say these were like illusions?”

“Depends on the event,” she answered. “They still can’t feel us, but one thing I know from all of time is that Akeldama is untouchable.”

Ayu’s small brows furrowed as he shuffled against the crowd of strangers. 

“He created our society from, what we could tell as, boredom. But his way in recruitment for many didn’t consist of greed or malice, but instead desperation and escape.” The chatter charged in anxiety and silence. Whispers reached out beyond all and overlapped between others’ words. “He came along offering immortality, power, and above all else, a way out of our lives. However, the offering and contracts quickly became a threat.”

“Fuck…” Ayu stopped pushing himself away from others. He paused his movement in reminiscence of Akeldama’s offerings. 

“From what Alice believes,” Eilwen added. “Akeldama does have intentions for his actions.” She made a look at Ayu. 

Ayu began tugging his hair again. 

“Only we may never find out. Even with my magic, I can only go so far as to the 1600s, and at that, some parts are blocked.”

Once they exited the circle, Ayu asked, “Hasn’t anybody tried to take over? Or kill him?”

Eilwen scoffed, “As if that would occur.” She pointed at the crowd. “All of our abilities come from Akeldama’s own magic, and he always isolates himself in his throne room in which only Alice is able to enter. And if anyone were to attempt, they’d be aware he can kill in a millisecond. A suicide attempt, if you will.” 

“So, pretty much a no.”

“Anyone would kill him if they had the chance,” she stated.

“Or put him in a choke-hole…”

She scoffed, “We wish.”

A second of thought necessitated him. “I’m gonna have to wait more for most of these, aren’t I,” asked Ayu. 

“Practically so, yes.”

His face flattened. “I’m going nowhere with this, then?”

“Regardless of knowledge,” she faced him directly in the eyes, “you’re not going to be able to stop him with your nature.”

Ayu groaned, pulling his bangs harder. “Why the fuck do I even try?”

“I’d mind you about the language but there’s no point with what we do,” she commented.

Ayu hummed with an agitated pitch. Though he realized other options are always possible. “… Then, what about Oliver? Can’t I get background on him?”

Eilwen stared into space for quite some time. Her thoughts seemed to be fixated from all Ayu could ponder. “You can gain some. But only some.” She set her watch again. “Though his family line is crucial in the development of this society.”

The forest melted in color. The circle of civilians devolving into lifeless blobs of nothing. The grey skies turned to the dark bricks of a ceiling. And walls closed in behind them. Dirt and musk engraved itself on the floors along with small blood splatters and spilled water. The only light to appear in the desolate waste of a room was a small window unreachable by height, and the small hole that poked out of the wooden door. 

In the corner was a girl, a few years senior of Ayu. Her body contorted to a ball shaking in every limb. Her light hair was ragged and greasy, dangling across her head and legs in clumps. The hair covered up the view of searing scars, as well as the chains stuck upon her wrists.

“1610: … Cecily Rixon, or as you likely know her as, Alice. She was accused of witchcraft after remedying her mother through illness, and taken to the chambers to be punished until she admitted her crimes, guaranteeing her execution.”

Ayu stared at the chilling image in front of him, though, his own chills never stopped him from moving at that moment. “So, she was hurt to death?” His feet led him on towards the girl. He stood above her and watched her cower from nothing but her own pain. 

“I-indeed.” 

He lowered his knees, then adjusted himself to where he sat across from her. He pondered as she cried up dry tears. “This was… normal, right?” 

“I wish to say it wasn’t,” Eilwen answered. “… She was about to admit to her ‘crimes’ back then, however, -”

The door opened slowly, but not to the attention of Ayu. The girl whisked her head up at the small creak of sound. Her covered up face now revealed itself to the scene. Dry skin filled up her cheeks with a cut on the side. A swell from another cheek punctured and bruised her lip. All and even a burning brand mark seeped by the end of her neck. Ayu studied it all before turning back to see who was at the door. Though, it was easily recognizable by that point. 

“He’d arrived at her darkest day.”

Her throat trembled at her own words as she spat, “I work with the devil, sir… You may take me by the grave but that won’t- that won’t stop him.” The words jumbled in its own confusion.

“You may lie as you like,” Akeldama said calmly, “but, that may never work for someone like me, as disappointing as that is.” He entered the cell. His bored expression looked down upon her as her face twisted to confusion. 

“You’re not the guard.”

“I know I’m not,” he replied. “I arrived for something else.” 

“What’s your reasoning?”

“To give you a-” He rolled his eyes. “Bargain.”

The girl never replied to him. 

He sighed, “You don’t believe this sort of life is worthwhile? Don’t you?”

No answer. 

“Your family pushed you to labor then to this state only because of some men in armor scaring them. They formed you into this state without hearing any of your pleas or thinking anything of a truth from you. You’re in this state because you could never fight back, not even speak back to them. They’re all of unfair power against you.” 

She turned away from him.

“You can do something about that; you’re able to stand for yourself and prosper.” He told her. “You can get out of this life where you’re controlled by their lies… and I’ll help.”

“What a lie,” Eilwen twitched. 

Ayu’s focus completely shifted to Akeldama. His mind numbed from his contradiction. Though, most of all, he thought, why haven’t you told that to me…?

The girl turned back around, shaky and slow. “H-how?”

He offered his hand. “Come with me and you can live a new life. I’ll give you power; I’ll give you freedom. You’ll live however you’d like, as long as you follow what I say.”

Her eyes shimmered in a flash. “What is it you’ll say?”

He looked away. “Small things. Nothing major in the grand scheme of the world. I need time to have everything set, to be frank, so you’ll need patience.” A small smile creeped from his lips with the sense of genuineness. “But take my hand, and one day you’ll live whatever you imagine.”

“I always hated seeing this,” Eilwen sighed. “Yet, nonetheless she accepted his deal, and left her life of before.”

The girl reached out, her hand almost as bony as Ayu’s. She grasped Akeldama’s, and they both disappeared. 

“She was the first to be a part of Akeldama’s reign, and the first to discover the true cost of joining him before the rest of us.” She reset the watch. “Akeldama began recruiting multiple others after her.”

Trees grew around the two and surrounded them by their branches and roots. The sky was blocked by fresh green leaves though way up above creeped a sip of grey. Ayu would have kept his face up, viewing the height of the trees, but a man passed by in a rush.

Ayu stumbled over in surprise, and once he gained balance again, he found the man at his sight. The tall man paced all over the trees, humming a tune off-pitch and off-beat. He adjusted his poignant ginger hair back over and over without an avail to fix his loose hairs. His other hand carried a bouquet of pond flowers and four-leaf clovers drenched all around, including his own suit from fallen down petals. 

After groaning, the man took off with dangling hair on his side. Eilwen walked with him. “Thirty years later in the 1640s, when we were depressingly thriving, a man named Christopher Broichet had joined, originally known as Felicette.” 

Ayu tiptoed around fake branches and rocks. “Are we gonna follow him for all this time?”

“Yes? Is it challenging?” 

“No,” he gave her. “Catching up isn’t gonna be hard at all-” He tripped as soon as he swore. 

Eilwen shook her head and proceeded. It forced Ayu to bring his weight back together and rush back. “It isn’t that long of a walk.”

“It’s not the walk,” Ayu huffed, “It’s the forest! Everything’s small and it’s kinda dark.” 

Eilwen told him, “You’ll get used to it in time.”

He ignored the comment. Grumbling while stepping over a log.

“He had caught the attention of Alice, surprisingly considering her stoic-ness at the time, but they’d quickly become the society’s lovers.”

The bark walls opened to another open field, though with a cottage by the side and a leafless tree far in the midst. Alice had sat there waiting, dressed in a fine gown and her hair tied within a bun. 

Felicette dashed towards her, clamping his heels on the ground to make a full stop once he met her. 

“I have a good reason for being late!” He handed her the bouquet. 

Alice picked up a clover from the pile almost falling over. “You must like these, don’t you?”

Sitting down with her, he smiled. “I think they heavily compliment you.”

“They do, especially with the five others you’ve gotten me.” 

Felicette eyed her. “Shouldn’t those have died already?”

“Of course not,” she exclaimed. “This is Fowls, everything lasts forever here. ‘less you’re human.”

He chuckled at her. “I’d say that’s very unlikely.” His innocent composure gently kissed Alice by the cheek.

Ayu squinted at the two, specifically Felicette. “… He’s Oliver’s dad?”

“Yes, from what she tells us.”

He tilted and shook his head, right as Felicette lifted Alice up into the tree and making her giggle in delight. No, I don’t see it. 

“They brought a nice light to the people.” Soft laughter evoked as the two sat together on the tree. “Christopher had lots of charisma to inspire the land.”

With doubt, Ayu nodded. “Do you see that with Oliver,” he asked.

A thump was heard from the distance. The two turned to see Felicette fallen from the tree. “… That’s difficult to say, especially with the intelligence difference.” Nothing necessarily interesting occurred then, so Eilwen continued her lesson. “Throughout the years, it came to notice that he, along with many others in his movement, stopped following Akeldama’s order of murder.”

“Years?”

“Akeldama was lenient on it for a few decades.” A click from her pocket was heard. “However, eventually…”

Flames appeared again. Rising smoke brought Ayu to a cough as he stumbled in the old environment. “Why does this one feel more real? -”

Eilwen swatted ashes away. “I remember it more,” she answered, “That’s all.” 

Ayu’s eyes squinted from the burning sensation only to meet a body in front of him: stabbed in multiple parts of their limbs and torso, dripping of blood and a black substance. He choked at the sight and blinked nonstop in surprise. In wide eyes, he shook up to view the dead face of Oliver’s father. 

“1701, November 1st, Christopher was executed in the eyes of all of us. Akeldama said to have done it as a warning for those who rebelled, and have people working properly again. Though, the opposite happened.” 

Ayu stared at the body which soon corroded into nothingness. … Oliver wasn’t born in the 1700s. 

“The society began to die out afterwards in lost hope. Assisted suicides began occurring and succeeding to the point that only few of us were left.”

The scene fast forwarded in front of them. The flames and houses faded into grey ashes. A sense of the world went numb again for Ayu. “Akeldama seemed prepared for this event however, because hours later, he brought something new.” 

Two figures walked in the distance. Ruins crowded over them, courting to their soft, patted steps. One of the figures revealed themselves more clearly than the other. His small stature shadowed the other with only the tiniest difference of height. Long black hair dusted around his face as he seemed to be shaking in ashes. Yet, the taller guided him with a held hand; no clear reaction in sight. 

“He saved a single child from that village he burned.” The child stumbled upon his feet next to Akeldama. “He’s never revealed his true name to us, but he’s referred to as Vittorino.”

The name rung in Ayu’s mind, though the vague memory of ‘Vittorino’ being said was something he could not find. However, at a halt of the scene, Akeldama bent down ever so slightly to Vittorino’s height, facing him eye to eye. Words were spoken to the young one, but unheard in the midst of Ayu. 

“There’s been rumors for ages,” Eilwen said, “that Akeldama picked him up because he was to be a religious sacrifice to the village. But, Vittorino never answered anything we asked.” 

The boy nodded to Akeldama before he was blurred away. Ayu blinked as he had not noticed Eilwen’s click. 

Alice appeared again, along with the young boy, in the darkest depths of the words. Laying against the tree, Vittorino hid from her. While she, peering up above him, attempted conversation. 

“To cope with her loss, Alice tried to get along with Vittorino and help him as the youngest in our society. Though, he never cooperated with her in the end, and grew more akin to Akeldama as years went by.” 

In distraction, Ayu peered his eyes to the setting around them. The abyss and blind color of the forest guided him nowhere, but the faint sense of the nightly color comforted him. A sense of ease cradled him in the unknown dark, while he wondered if that is why Vittorino hid in the land. 

“After the arrival of Vittorino, Akeldama seemed to have found another practical way of gaining followers.” Another child appeared from the dark in wandering, catching the attention of Alice. She eyed in shock with the blood found in vague sight on the kid. “Then started the second era, where he began handpicking and ‘rescuing’ children. Raising them to be sick and sinister.”

And just like that, the world disintegrated into the nothingness of the original room. “For the most part, Alice was left alone.” Ayu noticed Eilwen’s direction at him. “Then all of a sudden, she claimed she was going to have a child of hers and Christopher.”

“But-” 

“We imagined she’s gone mad, but once she explained herself, it seemed that the wish child was a blessing and a curse.”

Ayu gnawed his cheek in confusion. “But… how was he made then?”

“That is another thing I’m unable to say, sadly.” Sighing crept over her breath as she wrestled in her pockets. “And I believe that’s all you needed to know, correct?”

Ayu copied her pocketing movements. “Can’t tell if this was even useful or not. All I really know now is that Akeldama still sucks and Oliver seriously has a weird family.” 

“Well, that’s an excellent summary.” Eilwen walked across from him and onto the door, placing her hand on the handle. “Now then, Cecily should have had plenty of time to talk with Oliver. We should get going.” 

Before she could open the door, Ayu stopped her. “W-wait.”

“What is it?”

“How did you get here then? ‘Cause you told me about Alice and all her stuff.”

Eyes widened, she shuffled. “That’s rather unnecessary information.”

“But you were a part of this too.”

“I got here by the dumbest of means,” she spat. 

A light clicked in Ayu’s mind. “You were dumb too?”

“In all fairness, yes.” She squeezed onto the handle. “I was… in love with my dearest friend, and we were both poor peasants. Yet I was put in an arranged marriage for my family to have some riches, and I had to leave her behind.”

“But why did you come here?”

“Simple. I thought it was unfair for her to stay poor and Akeldama noticed. My contract was by the terms that she would take my place in life and have all the fortunes of food and luxuries.”

Ayu blinked. “That’s… really nice.”

She scowled. “It was my luck in living. If it weren’t for my contract, people would’ve claimed me as a witch for charming the noble and executed me.” Hustling against her jacket, her weak voice stated, “She took my place in the end.”

The implications in irony was far too much for Ayu to form words. 

A pause latched between the two of them, but before one could say a word, Eilwen opened the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

***

“Oh, Eilwen! You came at perfect timing!” Alice beamed with a worried smile. “I think just about wrapped up everything with Oliver.” They both were sitting down next to the cottage Ayu viewed in the past. Though before he could mention it, Eilwen walked by him and gave a few words to the other. 

“Please tell me everything went sufficiently.”

“I did all that you advised but you know I can’t speak like that!” Alice hissed in a pout.

A shake of the head and a groan later, “Everything I told you was simple and for you not to go too far.”

The women babbled to each other onwards of their time, to Ayu’s attentional dismay. In disinterest, he sat by Oliver, comfortable against the plain grass, and spoke to him. “I think I just had one of the weirdest history classes.”

With a hand on top of his mouth, Oliver replied, “Better than awkward talking and anxiety from an adult.”

“About what?”

“About me, but she was too nervous about saying anything.”

Glimpsing over to Alice excusing herself to Eilwen, and alongside memory of her past, he said, “Makes sense…” 

However, Oliver’s ears seemed to attend back to Alice and Eilwen in keen study. Ayu imitated. 

“What? You know he doesn’t like people knowing about him!” Alice exclaimed. 

But then came a sigh from Oliver. 

“What,” Ayu asked.

“Alice told me I had to ‘grow accustom’ to eating first before anything else.” 

Cringing shivered in Ayu’s reminder. And yet, the circumstances were dire regardless. “You’d have to at some point.”

“I know but,” he played with the end of his cardigan, “out of anyone here, you’d understand how tough it is.” 

Ayu shifted his gaze away. “I don’t think so.” He nodded at the women. “They seem pretty normal in thinking to me.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but they could be tricking us, Ayu. They- they kill, so they can probably lie too.” 

Eilwen’s lesson flashed through his mind. I doubt it but… “I guess that’s true.” 

Silence evoked them again until Oliver asked suddenly, “What do you think I am, Ayu?” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” he shuffled in his seat, “I guess I’ve just been seen as a lot of things recently. Like a random kid; a monster; the son of immortal assassin parents, one being dead; a kind of intentional mistake; and a canine… it’s all messy. But what do you think?”

Ayu tapped on his feet in thought. Though the answer was quite simple. “I don’t know, Ollie. You’re just another person with a fucked-up life like me, maybe worse, right?”

Oliver shrugged and nodded.

“But I do wanna try and help a little. It’s the least I can do for anything right now.”

The boy, with his pale green eyes, stared at him for that bit of time, wide and light against the dimly grey background. And with his kindly eyes, he smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

-

Ten Dollars | Bread and Water | Red Eye | Crimson Capture | November 1st | A Mother | A Demon | A Child | The Wolf | Bloody Fingers | A Monochrome World | Next >>>

#writing #my writing #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #black sun tale #bst #chapter 12 #swearing warning #blood warning #gore warning #torture warning #branding warning #minor death warning #with a corpse yes #does it count as a death penalty? dunno #assisted suicides #mention of cannibalism #bst ayu #bst eilwen #bst akeldama #bst alice #bst felicette #bst vittorino #bst oliver #i'm releasing this early because i think most of us aren't doing anything for the next while

[sweet-lil-psycho]

You can hear me? - Post-death Kyle - AHS Coven - (1)

Dedicated to @slightlyvicked for her amazing contributions 

Summary: The newest guest of Miss Robichaux's Academy is a powerful witch, but on of her powers is something Kyle had only dreamed of.

Word Count: 2891

(Authors Note: I know I said this would be up tomorrow, but I got super excited and ended up finishing the whole thing today. I really loved writing it and added a number to the title in case anyone wants me to write more and turn this into a series.)

You walked through the front gate of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies and immediately knew someone was watching you. It was a primal skill that most witches had forgotten or discarded over the centuries, but you had learned to harness it just as the old witches did. The person, you could already tell, did not match you in magical skill and posed absolutely no threat, so you happily ignored it. Why wouldn’t you? You were a lioness and they were... a bunny rabbit, yes, that seemed about right.

Your suitcase dragged close behind you up the walkway, propelled wholly by magic. As you stepped up to the front doors, they opened for you. Clearly the house knew better than to make you wait. They parted widely and once you, and your suitcase had stepped over the threshold, shut softly behind you. 

There was a thing about thresholds that most witches didn’t know. They keep track of all the magical beings who pass through them. It was as if you had been presented with a registry of all the witches in the house the moment you walked in. Not by name, of course, but a display of the skill level and aura of each magical being which you would easily be able to pair with the witches of the house upon meeting them. 

Nothing special, you noted with a small smirk, perhaps Miss Robichaux's Academy’s young ladies were not as exceptional as they thought they were.

You didn’t bother calling out your arrival, the witches of the house were expecting you... or at least the ones who mattered were. Instead, you were fast at finding your way to their library of magical texts, curious to see what books they had acquired since your last visit.

Despite all your attention being in the yellowed pages of The Witches Guide To Advanced Spellwork; Volume 4, which you were finding quite amusing, the intended entrance of a familiar witch did not slip your witchy senses. She must have been about to cross the archway of the room when you spoke

“Cordelia! What a pleasure!” You said with a large smile, only now looking up from the dusty and quite trivial tome.

“Y/N, what an absolute honor and pleasure it is to have you with us at Miss Robichaux’s.” Cordelia greeted you warmly

“I couldn’t possibly pass through New Orleans without dropping by.” You told her as you opened your arms for a hug

You and Cordelia went way back. Well...as way back as a 19 year old could go with someone. You’d briefly met and studied with her mother, the Supreme Witch, Fiona Goode, before deciding your studying efforts were best spent elsewhere. A decision which lead you far from American soil and on a long string of adventures. In the time you had known each other, you had been quite close.

“Well, we are delighted to have you stay as long as you would like.” She assured you “I’ll send Spalding to carry your bags and show you to your room.”

“No need,” you said simply “I’m quite capable.”

The bag followed you as you began to walk out of the room. Cordelia followed and watched the bag in amazement. You’d definitely learnt a few new tricks since your last meeting. As you ascended the stairs, the suitcase began to float over the steps and you could just barely hear the small laugh Cordelia gave.

You vaguely recalled the layout from your previous visit, which was enough to allow you to find the room with ‘Visitor Quarters. Not for student entry’ on the door. You couldn’t contain a laugh as you touched the doorknob and surveyed the room with your witch senses.

Predictably, the students were huddled on the bed and floor discussing some nonsense speculations about your arrival. The movement of the doorknob was enough to hear them loudly scramble and whisper ‘hide’ to one another. Generously...or perhaps cruelly, you allowed them enough time to conceal themselves before opening the door.

The room was the grandest in the house, complete with a crystal chandelier and golden velvet curtains, which seemed unnaturally lumpy with outlines of very tactless witches. The lights in the room were out and you wondered how much more obvious the hiding of the students would be once you illuminated the room.

“It’s so dark, should I open the curtains?” You wondered aloud, which was met with an audible ‘shit!’ from the direction of the lumpy fabric.

“No need” You added, snapping your fingers and watching every candle in the room light.

You could tell they were watching. Eyes boring into your skin with the telltale spark which let you know they were witches. If they want to watch, give them a show, you thought.

The suitcase threw itself onto the bed and began unclipping and unzipping. You started pulling out all your packed goods from inside the small, black suitcase. Your clothes for a start, which soared out of the bag, unfolded, and began hanging themselves in the closet, the door of which was flung open. You didn’t need to look to see the absolute fright which flashed on the face of the student who had chosen to hide in there. It made you smile, but still you played oblivious. 

Next, you hoisted out the high candelabra out of the bag and allowed it to settle in the darkest corner of the room, adding to the glow of torches. Then came your armchair, which squeezed it’s way out and scuttled across the floor to a lovely spot in front of the fireplace.

“What the hell is this?” you heard a voice whisper from the curtains, promptly followed by “shh!”

Then your trunk, your vanity table, the tall, pedestal birdcage which housed your raven, Corvis, some trinkets and rarities from your travels, a large mirror with pitch black glass, and finally your cat, jumping out from the still half-full suitcase and stretching out her black body after the nap you surely woke her from.

Once she finished, she meowed loudly and walked in circles, indicating there were people about.

“Oh I know Salem, they’ll come out when they’re good and ready” You told the cat, who then decided to curl up in the center of the bed.

“Is she talking about us?” A voice whispered, “Shh!” 

"You really should come out, you know. You girls are really making fools of yourselves.” You announced

They all came out and you laughed to yourself, they thought they could hide from you. The young witches were similar ages, but had no where near the experience or magical level that you possessed. Finally you were able to place each magical identity the threshold had given you to it’s owner.

“You should have warned us, Nan!” One of the girls huffed

“Warn you of what? Her mind is blank.” Nan replied

“Not blank, simply unavailable to the likes of you. I’m not too fond of little witchlings prying through my thoughts” You interrupted

“This is all your fault, Madison, I told you we shouldn’t be in here! We’re going to get in so much trouble!” One of the girls snapped at another

“Shut up, Queenie!” Madison snapped back

“Surprise! Welcome to Miss Robichaux's Academy” Nan said with an innocent smile

“She’s not an idiot, Nan. What’s wrong with you?” Madison said viciously

“Hey! Don’t talk to Nan like that!” Another girl defended

“You shut too, Zoe!” Madison added 

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up!”

“Yeah Madison, why don’t you shut your mouth for once!”

“This is all your fault anyway, Madison.”

“Yeah, she’s right”

“Shut up, Nan”

“Shut up Madison!”

“Yeah, shut up Madison!”

“All of you shut up!” You raised your voice and it echoed around the room

All the girls went quiet, not by choice, but because their voices had left them entirely. This seemed to enrage them more and they started mouthing louder at each other in an attempt to continue their argument.

“Now when you’re all done blubbering like fish, let’s get a few things straight.” You said and watched them quiet down, realizing they weren’t going to get their way by fighting each other soundlessly

“First of all, this is the last time any of you come into my chamber uninvited. Secondly, Cordelia will be hearing none of this from me so long as you little witchlings show me a bit more respect from now on. Third, no more bickering...it is unpleasant and frankly, very unbecoming of all of you. And finally, any more of this kind of nonsense and you will regret the day you ever met me. Am I clear?”

Madison noiselessly muttered some snarky comment which made Nan break out into a grin

You flicked your wrist and Madison’s eyes widened as her hair was violently tugged backwards.

“Am I clear?” You asked again, waving your hand over them so they could speak once more

“Crystal clear.” They all said in a dreary unison, probably habit from Cordelia asking them the same question so many times 

“Right then. If that’s everything” You said and the door swung open behind you, inviting them to leave

“You can come out now Kyle, she caught us.” Zoe called out and a final figure emerged, this time from under the bed.

How could you have missed this?...Hang on, he’s not magical...or human..., you were puzzled, which was rare, especially when it came to magic.

“Kyle?” You said, feeling the name in your mouth curiously

He didn’t speak as he went to stand behind Zoe. He was tall and muscular looking, almost the frat-boy type if it wasn’t for his vacant expression and strange, detached way about him. 

“Kyle” You said again, softer this time as you tried to understand what he was and how you hadn’t detected him

“Yes, I’m Kyle”, a voice wrung inside your head clearly, your telepathic abilities picking up on his response

It’s nice to meet you Kyle, you sent the message telepathically, wondering if he could hear it. You’d never met anyone like this before and had no idea what his capabilities were.

The girls had begun to file out of the room, but Kyle stood in place, his dark eyes locked with yours, thinking.

“Come on Kyle” Zoe called him

He didn’t move and you stepped closer to him without acknowledging her, waiting for a response

“Who are you?” he asked, he sounded almost scared

I’m Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you, you transferred the message into his mind.

“How can you hear me? No one can ever hear me.” 

“Kyle, come on!” Zoe called him once again, this time tugging at his arm

“No.” He said, still not looking away from me

“What are you doing to him?” Zoe demanded, moving away from Kyle and coming up to me

“No!” Kyle shouted more urgently, stepping forward to pull Zoe back, but you beat him to it and flung her back with a magical force which sent her stumbling to the ground

“What the hell!” Madison exclaimed after watching her fellow witch get tossed aside. She walked back into the room and heading towards Kyle, no doubt to try and drag him out. “Come on, Kyle. We’re leaving!”

“No! No! No!” He shouted

“That’s quite enough” You groaned tiresomely, growing more and more irritated by these little witches.

With a sweeping gesture of your hand, the girls were thrust out of the doorway and the door closed loudly after them. The lock on the door slid over and fastened into place, preventing them from reentering, though they still tried.

Kyle still seemed agitated and you put your hands up gently to calm him

Everything is alright, Kyle. They’re gone now, they’re not going to make you leave before you want to

“I didn’t mean to yell, I really didn’t” his voice came softly “I just get so angry some times that I can’t stop what happens.”

It was like his consciousness was trapped in a body which couldn’t contain it. His emotions were unable to regulate themselves as they traveled from his mind to his actions. His mind seemed perfectly intact and developed, it was almost as if the connection between his mind and body was damaged in some way.

It’s okay Kyle. Why don’t we sit down?, you suggested, sitting on the bed where Salem watched curiously

“Sure, why not.” he came and sat on the bed, his eyes finally leaving mine in order to look at Salem

“Salem, this is Kyle, he’s a friend.” You told the cat

Salem immediately let her guard down and she rolled on her back, displaying her stomach for belly rubs

“I like cats. A big tabby named Monty used to live on our street, he was such a fat cat, always rummaging through people’s bins for scraps.” He smiled at the memory and began to pat Salem

“Why can’t the others talk to me like this?” he looked up for a moment, there was so much sadness in his eyes

I’m a very powerful witch. I’ve studied my whole life and learned from the best teachers all over the world. Telepathy is a tricky skill on it’s own to master, but for some reason it’s more complicated with you. Usually there’s just a locked door leading right into someone’s consciousness, but with you, it’s like there’s a labyrinth. It was true, his whole consciousness was locked away by this elaborate protection. The more you learned about Kyle, the more interested you became.

“Oh...How long are you staying?” His voice held a tone of worry at the thought of you leaving. You knew you would be the same if the only person who could truly talk to you was only passing through on their own travels.

I haven’t decided yet, Kyle. I didn’t think I’d meet someone as interesting as you, you told him and he smiled in such an effortlessly charming way that you had to stop yourself from swooning.

He was cute, to say the least, and in the moment where his more human side came out, he made your heart pound so loud you were surprised he couldn’t hear it.

Kyle moved his arm to further pet Salem and you noticed a severe looking scar on his neck.

What’s happened there? you pointed at the mark

He instantly moved to hide it, pulling the neck of his t-shirt higher, which only loosened it and made the mark more visible.

“It’s nothing. Nothing at all, really.” he replied quickly

Kyle please, is it a scar? Let me take a look? you asked him telepathically and he didn’t answer

“Please, Kyle. I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I just want to see.” You said aloud

Hesitantly, Kyle moved his hands away from his neck and allowed you access to the deep scar-tissue. It looked incredibly painful, but when you touched it gingerly, he didn’t flinch. Upon closer inspection, the mark went entirely around his neck and you gasped.

He immediately pulled away and tried once again to cover it up.

It’s okay Kyle, really. I just...it looks like it hurt a lot, you said, suddenly teary for some reason.

Kyle noticed the sudden redness of your eyes and stopped pulling away.

“It didn’t really. I hardly felt it.” He told you.

You wondered how that could be for a second and then the answer hit you hard. A lot about Kyle rapidly began to make sense and you realized why Kyle was so unlike anything you had come across before.

May I? you asked him, holding your hand up to touch the scar once more.

He moved himself closer to give you better access to the wound, silently complying with your ask.

Once again you placed your hand on the scar, this time channeling it with a skill you had learned in small town Romania.

“arătați-mi” you whispered

Your eyes glossed over with a pale film of white and you began to see Kyle’s life unfold before your eyes. The good, the bad, and the just plain tragic.

It was blurry, but as you came closer to the events which led to the scarring, it became clear. You saw his time at Kappa Lambda Gamma, the party, Zoe, Madison, the party bus, Madison and Zoe’s sloppy, infantile attempts at a complex post-mortem revival spell, Kyle’s struggles with his new life.

“Oh my gods above and forgotten... what in the name of Hecate. Someone had better slap those girls from Venus to Neptune.” You whispered to yourself “I am so sorry this happened to you, Kyle.”

You cupped his face in your hands and rested your forehead against his. He stiffened for a moment and then relaxed, putting his hands on your waist so gently, as if he were afraid of hurting you.

“You don’t...hate me, do you?” he asked after a few seconds of silence

Hate you? Kyle, why would I...how could you think I would hate you?, you were baffled by it, he’d been put through so much and he thought you would...hate him for it?

“Fiona always says I’m disgusting and unnatural. I’m like Frankenstein's monster.” He told you

“First of all, Fiona’s a bitch. Second, I always did like Frankenstein.” you said aloud, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

#kyle spencer #kyle spence x reader #kyle spencer oneshot #ahs oneshot #american horror story #american horror story coven #kyle oneshot #evan peters #american horror story oneshot #post death kyle

[winterune]

A Monochrome World

A Natsume Yuujinchou Fanfiction

Word count: 2097

Summary: Natsume finds a newly-opened antique store on his way home from school. Inside, he finds room filled with framed monochrome pictures.

A/N: @natsumeweek 2019 Day 1. Prompt: Color/Monochrome. Not edited or beta’d. I’ll probably post an edited version on AO3 and FFN later. Thanks for reading^^ (edit:  I named my OC Seiji because that was the first name that came to me and I've always liked that name, but I just remembered that Matoba's name is Seiji and I'm too lazy to change my OC's name ^^; I'm sorry for that)

Read on AO3.

***

On his way home from school, Natsume came across an antique store. An old looking store that looked as though it came right out of a book. He had never seen it before. Was it new? He remembered Sasada mentioning something like it a few days ago. She and Taki had immediately went to check it out later that day.

A middle-aged man was sweeping the pavement in front of him. He noticed Natsume then, and looked up, an affable smile on his face. “Would you like to take a look?” he asked. His hair was already graying and his eyes were warm. There was something in his features that seemed rather inviting so Natsume found himself unable to refuse.

The glass panes at the storefront showed all kinds of little ornaments, lamps, music boxes, and so on. From the outside, the store looked small. It seemed cluttered if you look at it through the glass panes, but when you entered, the room suddenly became spacious and Natsume had to wonder if it was a trick of the light.

He wasn’t the only one there. A woman was looking over set of teacups atop a wooden dresser. A couple students were standing near the back peering into what looked to be a little snow globe. Natsume walked through the aisles one by one and was fascinated by the things he found: small trinkets behind glass shelves, drawers and dressers that looked to be at least fifty years old, a couple old Japanese dolls and statues, and several globes nestled in the corner.

Suddenly, he came upon a room with a pretty chandelier hanging from the ceiling and framed pictures hung on the wall all around. Big ones, small ones. Some were propped on desks or end tables. These pictures were pretty old judging from their monochrome color. A photograph of a couple and their newborn child in front of a house. Another was of the town years ago, with people walking in the streets. A lone table sat at the center of the room with only a single old camera sitting on top of it.

Natsume picked up the camera. It looked really old and seemed fragile at the touch. The lens was a bit greasy and when he tried taking a photo, the shutter wouldn’t work.

Why would something broken like this be sold?

That’s when he noticed a slight movement in the corners of his eye. Natsume looked up, but there was no one else in the room. Weird, he thought. He was about to shift his gaze back on the camera when another movement caught his eye, and this time it came from in front of him. Nothing was there but a framed photo of what looked to be a bustling city street. He’d have ignored it if not for the people walking inside the photo.

Natsume’s jaw slackened and he almost lost his hold on the camera. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The people—they were really walking, and talking. The cars drove past the frame only to return from the other side a few moments later.

He glanced at the next photo: a family photo in a veranda of a traditional Japanese house. Except that after a while, the group broke apart. The children stood up and played around. The oldest went and disappeared inside the house. The mother called to her children before rushing inside, probably to prepare for the day. The father picked up a newspaper and sat on the veranda, smiling at his children before shifting his attention to the paper in his hands.

This was so weird. How could this happen? He looked down at the camera still in his hold. This fragile old thing?

The photo after that was of a waterfall in the forest. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that he could see the water falling down the cliff and the occasional sway of leaves. He waited a moment and a black bird took off into the sky from a nearby tree.

Without thinking, Natsume held out a hand toward the photo, wondering if he’d find a hidden world inside, only to feel glass meeting his touch. The cool sensation brought him back to his senses and he retracted his hand, just as a deep voice called out to him from the door.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The old man from the storefront stood on the doorway, his kind eyes boring into Natsume. Natsume hadn’t heard his approach. Granted, he had been too absorbed on the photographs to notice anything, but…something told him he shouldn’t take the old man lightly. His grip on the camera tightened and he took a step back, distancing himself—and the Book of Friends—from the man.

The store owner noticed it and his eyes widened ever so slightly. Then a wide smile graced his lips and he chuckled. “Please, do not be so alarmed. I mean you no harm,” he said. “My name is Seiji and I am the master of this abode.”

“Seiji-san?” Natsume repeated his name.

Seiji nodded. “Tell me, are you a relative of Reiko Natsume?”

Natsume blinked in surprise.

Seiji chuckled again. “No need to be surprised. The fact that you found this room by yourself is enough telltale of the power you possess. And the only human with such powers without any exorcist affiliation I know was Reiko.”

A youkai? was Natsume’s first thoughts, all the while wondering what this possible-youkai wanted from him—its name back, or the Book itself.

“And rest assured,” Seiji said as he entered the room and approached an end table, where a single framed photo stood. His eyes took on a faraway look as he gazed on the photograph there. “I am as much of a human as you.”

The words were already in his mouth but Natsume held them back, wondering how much he could trust this man. But Seiji knew Reiko and though his gut had told him to be wary, Natsume didn’t sense any malicious intent.

“You can see them?” he asked after a while.

Seiji looked up from the picture and met Natsume’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Are you an exorcist?”

“I am not. I am, let’s say, a collector. As you can see from my store, I deal with trinkets and ornaments, including magical ones.”

Natsume’s mouth was agape. “Are you telling me all those things you have there are youkai—”

“Heavens, no!” Seiji exclaimed. “They’re normal antiques. I store my other trinkets in another place such as this and only those with a certain level of spiritual power can see it. Such as yourself.” A smile, warm and kind.

From Seiji’s disposition, Natsume could tell the old man was sincere. If he’s not a youkai, there was a slim chance that he would know about the Book. What harm could telling him about Reiko do to Natsume?

“Reiko was my grandmother,” Natsume answered his previous question.

“Ah! So she made a family,” Seiji exclaimed in pure delight.

“But unfortunately, she has passed away.”

The light in Seiji’s eyes visibly dimmed, his shoulders sagging slightly, sorrow lining his features. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” his voice was a quiet murmur. He looked back at the picture on the table and picked it up, a wistful smile tugging on his lips. “I met her shortly in my youth and she left quite an impression on me. In fact,”—he looked up, a hand encompassing the entire room—“she was the one who came up with this idea.

“There was a youkai once who lived inside the camera. With every picture it took, it took away the people’s lives, trapping them inside the photographs it created. Not knowing about the youkai residing there, the camera became known to be cursed and that was when my father came upon it. He put it on sale in our store but no one wanted to buy it. A girl came by one day, and upon seeing the camera on sale, asked to have a look.

“I was in middle school back then and I wanted to get rid of the camera. To be honest, I was quite afraid of it. She came when I was minding the store by myself and I didn’t care to charge her when she asked for it. Curious, I followed her to a deserted place by the forest and I was surprised to see her tapping the thing and asking the youkai to come out. ‘I know you’re there,’ she’d said, as though coaxing a child to come out of hiding.

“She was carrying a baseball bat then, and if you think about, it was quite funny,” Seiji said, laughing under his breath. “Asking someone to come out with a baseball bat in hand, of course the youkai wouldn’t come out. So instead, she challenged it to a duel: that if it managed to capture her in its photograph in the next thirty seconds, it’d win, but if it failed, Reiko told it to write its name on a piece of paper and to leave the camera behind.

“I’d thought then how stupid the gamble was. Stupid…or brave. I thought of course the youkai would win and the girl would lose her life, especially when I saw how the camera started jumping and clicking by itself. But Reiko was fast and thirty seconds passed with the youkai not managing to capture Reiko in any of its shots.”

Seiji smiled at the framed picture in his hand. “Youkai are funny, aren’t they? For all their talk of immortality and power, they fell prey to the whims of a sixteen-year-old girl. And they are creatures of their words, so even despite any unfairness happening in a game, they would still abide by their promise. The youkai left after writing its name and Reiko picked up the camera.

“How mortified I was when she found out I had witnessed the whole thing. Reiko smiled at me when she gave me the camera back, and yet, I could not feel the energy she had had when she was challenging the youkai. She felt empty and resigned.

“She convinced me to take a picture of her. I was afraid, though I knew the youkai was gone. But there was nothing else we could experiment on, so I directed the camera at her and she smiled.

“When the picture came out and she didn’t disappear, I knew we had succeeded. But we noticed there was something different with it: Reiko in the picture was moving. She waved at us, walked around, jumped on a tree, danced. If we could hear anything happening in this monochrome world, I think we would have heard her laugh.”

Seiji finished his story and Natsume felt his throat closing up. The old man held out the frame in his hand and in it was that very same picture of Reiko, a girl his age whom he often saw whenever he returned a youkai’s name. Reiko was in her school uniform, a big silly grin plastered on her face, fingers held out to form a V sign. Then she laughed and she waved happily at them and twirled in her skirt before running around to jump on a tree and dangled off a branch.

Reiko looked happy.

“The youkai probably had resided in the camera for so long that some of its powers had been transferred to it,” Seiji went on. “So every time I take a picture of something, it’ll move. She told me I could make some business with it, but moving pictures are too much for normal people so instead I put it, and the pictures I’ve taken with it, on sale for the people who are in search for magical trinkets.

“Here,” Seiji handed the frame to Natsume. “For you. I wish I could have met her again.”

Natsume held the frame gently, his eyes refusing to leave Reiko’s smiling face. Seiji said Reiko’s gamble was stupid or brave, but it didn’t feel like that to him. Reiko gambled away her life, probably because she wanted to escape this world to live inside a virtual one. What would the world inside the photograph be like? Would everything be black and white? Would it be small and empty? Or would it be like a perfect copy of this world but you can go anywhere you please without anyone judging you?

“Thank you,” Natsume murmured quietly. Reiko was still smiling at him and Natsume found himself smiling back.

~ END ~

***

Thanks for reading! More of my Natsume Yuujinchou fic here.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsumeweek #natsume week #natsume fanfic #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my story #natsumeweek 2019

[do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them]

Til the End of the Night / Ch4: In which Virgil and large crowds of people do not get along

Previous / Masterpost / Next 

Summary:  Patton and Virgil explore the town of Deercross. It goes mostly as planned, until it doesn't.

Warnings: sensory overload, panic kinda, allusion to deceit, and Sword Threats

A/N: is that a sleep cameo? yes. yes it is

Read on AO3

Patton pulled Virgil outside and into a bright, sunny morning.  They had to take a minute to adjust after the low lighting of the inn.  Well, Virgil did, at least- Patton just bounced on his toes and looked around, eyes constantly darting from one thing to another as he waited for Virgil to stop shading his eyes with his free hand and glaring through it in the general direction of the sun.  Patton wanted to see everything, so he didn’t particularly mind starting with the café that Virgil, as soon as he could see again, announced that they were going into right now, because he was going to murder someone if he didn’t get some caffeine in his system.  That statement did not help with the weird looks he felt like he was getting, but hey, if people were scared of him they at least might not question his appearance out loud.

Virgil wanted to grab them a table and let Patton handle the talking alone, but they were both at the counter before he could actually say so. He settled for definitely-not-hiding behind his more outgoing friend and letting him order first.  If only he would make a freakin’ decision.

“Virgil Virgil Virgil look!”

“I’m looking.  It’s basically just the Starbucks menu, are you gonna pick something or not?”

“No no, look here!” He pointed to a section at the bottom that Virgil hadn’t previously noticed.  “They have magic drinks!  Should I get one?  I’m gonna get one.”

“If you want.  They look kinda gross, but I won’t stop you.”  Virgil thought it was too early in the morning for this much enthusiasm, or any, actually, but he did live with both Patton and Roman on a day-to-day basis, so it was at least a familiar sort of headache.  And, he would admit, a somewhat endearing one.

“Okay, okay, so-” Patton stood on his toes and leaned his hands on the counter as if the extra inch of height would let him read the signs on the wall better.  “I want that one, y’know, the sparkly thing with all the colors?”

“Gotcha,” the barista responded, not bothering to correct him on what it was called.  Life was too short to care about the names of imaginary coffees.  “That’s a very popular one.  We get the ingredients from the Fae Forest, you know,” he said conversationally as he made the drink.  It was, indeed, very colorful and sparkly.  It was also glowing.

“Really?  What’s that?”

The barista looked surprised, which Patton should have considered an accomplishment.  “Are you serious?  The road out of town runs right by the edge of the forest, how have you not seen it?”

Patton shrugged.  “We came from the other direction.”

“Oh.”  He knew there was no road in the other direction, but again, life was too short to care.  “Well, if you really don’t know, it’s a huge forest full of magical creatures.  I’ve heard about a lot of weird stuff happening in there, especially at night.  Seen some of it, too.”  He slid Patton’s magical coffee across the counter to him.  “Nothing too dangerous, but if you decide to give it a look I’d recommend staying on the path. Now, what do you want, or are you just gonna stand there looking shady?”

Virgil was caught off-guard too severely to register that he should be offended.  “Oh, uh- just a black coffee.”  He couldn’t stand the taste of black coffee, which was exactly why he drank it to wake up.

“Boring.”

Virgil made a face.  “Your mom is boring.”

“Virgil,” Patton chided.  The barista waited until he was distracted by the menu again to turn and stick his tongue out in response.

Something here seemed weird to Virgil, but then again, something always seemed weird to Virgil.  He brushed it off and dug out a handful of coins.  “Tell me which of these to give you, ‘cause somebody explained it yesterday and yet I still have no idea.”

“...Um.”  The barista gave the coins a “yikes” sort of look and awkwardly touched his face in a way reminiscent of what Logan did when he forgot he didn’t have his glasses on. “You know what, on the house this time,” he said quickly, pushing Virgil’s hand away.

“Oh, thank you so much!”  Patton scooped up his drink with a bright smile.  Virgil was going to ask some more questions, like do you actually know how this money works any more than I do and why does a modern coffeeshop even exist in this fantasy world, but they were out the door again before he could do more than shoot the guy a suspicious look.

“Patton, for- how am I supposed to drink this if you won’t let me stand still for two seconds?”

“Oh!  Sorry.” Patton slowed, and Virgil took a long sip of his terrible gross drink, trying not to make a face.  “Forgot yours doesn’t have a straw.  Honestly, I know you don’t even like that, do you want some of mine?”

Virgil eyed it suspiciously and shook his head.  “It looks radioactive, I’m not putting that in my body.  I’m just gonna…”  He downed as much of his coffee as he could at once, grimaced, and threw the rest away. “Yeah, I think I’m awake now. Where are we going?”

Where they were going, evidently, was into every shop on the street.  They ended up with pastries for breakfast, a few cute little trinkets each on Patton’s insistence, and some extra supplies they might eventually need on Virgil’s. And of course, Patton had to talk to everyone.  It was admittedly helpful- they knew now that they would, as they’d suspected, need to go through the mysterious forest to get to Roman- but jeez, all the talking, Virgil was about ready to hide in a dark room for the rest of his life.  One person wouldn’t let him in because he looked suspicious or whatever, which, honestly, he was surprised it only happened once.  Between all that and the fact that he couldn’t seem to avoid constantly bumping into people on the busier streets even though Patton was doing just fine, and they seemed to think he was doing it on purpose, he was getting close to his limit.

But then they went around a corner and found the market. It was an entire double-wide street lined with vendor’s carts of all kinds- bustling with people, of course. Patton’s eyes lit up immediately, while Virgil’s instinct was to cringe.

“Okay so I know you’re tired, so if you don’t wanna do this that’s okay, you can wait here and I’ll just go by myself and--”

“Nope.”  Virgil pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on.  There was no possible future where he watched Patton disappear into that mess and didn’t panic.  “I’ll come, just- this has to be the last thing we do, okay?”  He was pretty sure he could make it through one last crowded area as long as he knew they were going back for a nap immediately afterward.

“Okay!”  Patton grinned, clearly glad he’d decided to go along, and tugged him into the chaos of the market.

Virgil quickly realized he’d made a mistake.  Several mistakes, actually.  He should not have gotten Patton a coffee earlier, because his best friend was not a man who needed any more energy than he already had. He should not have gotten himself a coffee earlier, because the caffeine only ever made him more jittery and nervous and he knew this and yet he always ended up drinking it anyway.  And he absolutely should not have agreed to come and check out the market.

He had never- no, nobody on earth had ever had this bad of a headache before, probably.  There were so many people yelling so many different things over each other, and basically every kind of loud noise in existence, and the sun was really bright still, and if he thought the regular streets were hard to navigate, well, he probably should have taken that as a sign not to go into an even busier one.  With all the widely varied food vendors, even his sense of smell was being assaulted.  If one more person brushed up against him he was gonna snap. Yeah, no, he needed to get out of here right now, it was stupid that he’d ever assumed he would be good for it.

Patton took the first tug on his hand as just Virgil having trouble navigating the crowd again, and slowed down a little to make it easier for him to keep up.  Normally he would look back to check on him, but if he did that now he’d run right into somebody for sure!  The next one, though, was hard enough to make him stop and turn around, letting the flow of people part on either side of him.  Virgil wasn’t quite looking at him so much as just to the left of his head.  He seemed really tense.  The hand that wasn’t in Patton’s was clenched in his pocket, the hood of his jacket was up, and his jaw was tight.

“Virgil?  You, uh, you okay, kiddo?”

Virgil shook his head and jerked his hand away so he could cross his arms, tapping his fingers on his elbow in agitation.  “This is- too much,” he managed.  Patton strained to hear him over the noise of the market. “Just- loud and bright and- people,” he explained with a slightly disgusted tone.

“If you don’t wanna be here anymore we can leave,” Patton assured him.  He went to squeeze Virgil’s shoulder before remembering that would probably just make things worse right now.  “Just keep close behind me if you can’t deal with my hand, okay?  Wouldn’t want either of us getting lost!”

Virgil nodded impatiently, taking a small step toward him so as to demonstrate that he would stay close.  Patton made another aborted move to touch him and grabbed his own wrist to make himself stop doing that.  Personal space hadn’t really been in his vocabulary before he started spending more time with Virgil, okay, this was actually progress.  He offered a sympathetic look instead, then turned and started forging a path through the chaos in the direction of the nearest side street, keeping up a constant stream of “sorry!” and “excuse me!” under his breath.

People were annoyed with Patton for pushing through against the flow of traffic, but he was at least apologizing, and anyway, he had the kind of face that made everyone who saw him think he was probably fundamentally incapable of ill intent.  Virgil, following in his wake and knocking people even further off balance, had none of that going for him.  He was just trying to make it to a quieter street without shutting down entirely, he did not have the mental energy to make sure no one was upset with him for briefly inconveniencing them.  If he was lucky, no one would care enough to make a scene.  Unfortunately for everyone involved, luck was not on his side.

Just as he was wondering if people were going to get mad at him, and debating the pros and cons of trying to get actual human words to come out of his mouth to keep that from happening, he knocked shoulders fairly hard with some guy trying to buy tomatoes.  The guy dropped everything he was holding and swore, turning to glare at the inconsiderate moron who jolted him.  Virgil didn’t look remorseful enough to keep him from getting pissed, apparently.  “Watch it, jerkface,” tomato guy snapped, and gave him a shove in retaliation before starting to gather his fallen produce.

Virgil wasn’t caught off guard exactly, but he didn’t have much room to move, so the push sent him stumbling to the side and almost knocking over a few more people.  “Sorry,” he forced out, even though that time was not his fault.  He wasn’t sure anyone heard him either way.  He got his footing back and looked around wildly. “Patton?  Where’d you-?  Patton, PATTON!”

Oh, no, no, no. Not the demonic voice thing, not now.  Everyone was staring at him.  The only silver lining was that one, people were at least giving him some space now, and two, Patton definitely heard that if he hadn’t very recently gone deaf.  He slapped a hand over his mouth- voluntarily, for once- hoping to mitigate the damage.  Everyone around was still watching him, just watching, and further back in the crowd there were whispers he couldn’t make out, but knew were about him.  He didn’t dare speak again, even to defend himself.  He was frozen in place by the thought that any move he made could be taken as a threat and get him killed.  He could have cried from relief when he heard a familiar voice and caught a glimpse of blue moving his way.

“Excuse me, coming through, sorry, it’s- look I really am sorry for pushing okay but this is a little more important!  Virgil! Virge, I’m so sorry I lost you, are you--”  Patton shouldered past the circle of onlookers and gasped.

His soft, but stressed shadowling was covered in actual shadows.  Scraps of darkness were flitting frantically around Virgil, concentrated at his feet and around his hands and arms.  He didn’t seem to notice them.  A few darted briefly in Patton’s direction before returning to the swarm, and he tried not to flinch.  He took a cautious step forward, and saw people at the edge of his vision looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Virge, sweetie, I need you to stay calm…”  He caught a panicked version of that twist Virgil’s mouth did when he was amused.  “Oh, you know what I mean.  Just, focus on me, okay, ignore everything else, that’s it…”  Slowly, he advanced another step, holding his hands up in front of him like he was trying to calm a spooked horse.  It even seemed to be working.  Virgil’s posture was starting to open up ever so slightly.  He felt good about the odds of no one getting hurt here, as long as nothing else went…

“Oi!  You, in the black, don’t move!  Don’t you know dark magic is forbidden in Deercross?!”

...wrong.  Both their heads snapped toward the sound of town guards approaching with swords drawn and a lot of bluster.  Patton couldn’t help feeling a pang of empathy for them- they must not get much trouble around here, they were probably scared and trying to hide it. He was much more worried, though, about Virgil, who was desperately looking for an escape route, shadows swirling faster than ever.  There were no gaps in the crowd, though, not even for someone his size, he was trapped, and they were drawing closer as the desire to watch what happened next overpowered their fear.  The jerky movements and darting eyes that should have clearly showed he was as scared as they were, if not more so, only fueled the people’s mutters, now loud enough for Patton to make out.

Dark magic.

Some sort of villain, no doubt.

Shouldn’t let his kind into town.

Evil.

Patton ran to try and intercept the three guards- this didn’t have to turn bad, he could still salvage the situation.  “Wait, please!” he shouted over the noise.  The guards didn’t seem to hear him, so he raised his voice a little more.  “Let me explain, he wasn’t trying to hurt anybody, he would never, this is all a, a big misunderstanding--”  They didn’t even acknowledge him, not even when he was right next to them.  He grabbed one’s arm only to be shaken off. Desperately, he ducked under it and stood between them and Virgil, arms spread.  “Would you just listen!” he screamed, tears pricking his eyes.  “He’s not a villain, he’s my friend!”

“Stand aside,” one of the guards said to him, not unkindly. “I don’t know how this wizard managed to gain your trust, but I can tell you he is not truly your friend.  Now, please, step aside, we don’t need innocents getting hurt.”

“No! I won’t--”

“Do it, Patton,” Virgil ground out.  He couldn’t let Patton get hurt trying to protect him, that would be a whole new level of sucking at his job.  Patton had no intention of obeying, yet found himself doing so anyway.  That voice was scary, alright?  Wait, no, he wasn’t scared of Virgil, that was ridiculous.  Compelling, that was the word.  His brain didn’t catch up with his body until he was standing at the edge of the circle.

He spun around and let out an involuntary sharp cry. Virgil was hunched in on himself, practically at the center of a dark vortex, his eyes wild and a hand pressed to his mouth.  The guards were advancing on him cautiously, they still had swords out, they were going to hurt him oh god-

Several things happened at once.

Patton yelled incoherently and threw himself, yet again, at the nearest guard.  The furthest guard from him made a grab for Virgil. Last and most importantly, there was a loud crackle of electricity.  Everyone standing nearby was thrown forcefully back as a sphere six feet in diameter, made of something resembling black lightning, expanded out from Virgil in a fraction of a second.

Patton narrowly avoided cracking his head on the ground when he fell.  “Oh, shoot,” he said with feeling.  He pushed himself to his feet and ran up to the sphere, ignoring everything else.  “Virgil!” He tried to bang on the forcefield with his palm, but it shocked him and he pulled back with a yelp.  “Are you- can you hear me in there, kiddo? Virge?”  An edge of panic was creeping into his voice.  “What- what did you do?  What is this?”

“Funny,” said a voice behind him, “I was going to ask you that question.”  He turned around.  Only one guard was standing, the other two having not yet recovered from the blast. That one, though, was plenty to worry about, because he had his sword pointed shakily at Patton’s chest.

Patton backed up until a warning static-like tingle told him he was about to bump into the sphere.  “Okay, this, uh, this isn’t as bad as it might look,” he insisted, holding his hands up placatingly.  “I- I can explain!”

The guard got his nerves under control and brought the sword up until the tip was no more than a few inches from Patton’s throat, holding it steady.  “I certainly hope you can.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #my post #my writing #til the end of the night

[fxrtescue]

have you been re-introduced to ALICE FORTESCUE? last we heard, the PUREBLOOD was most familiar with TIMELINE THREE. I don’t recall if they were always a SLYTHERIN, but I’ve heard the SEVENTH YEAR is still OPEN-MINDED, AMBITIOUS, EMPATHETIC  and CONTROLLING, ESCAPIST, COMPARTMENTALIZING so that’s familiar. at least SHE/THEY remember their way around the castle.

PINTEREST | PLAYLIST | STATS | BIOGRAPHY

CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS: allison argent ( teen wolf ), parker (leverage ), trish walker (jessica jones ), clara oswald ( doctor who ), clarke griffin ( the 100, s1&2 of the 100 not any further thx ), margaery tyrell ( asoiaf & got ), sutton braddy ( the bold type ), gaby teller (tmfu ), carol danvers ( captain marvel )

plant mum to mr. jenkins. droobles blowing gum champion. lover of popcorn, jewelry, strawberry bubblegum ice cream, divination, collector of sunglasses & happy memories.

AESTHETIC: gym mats, sweat, the smell of grass in the early hours of the morning, sunshine that lights but also burns, flowers put in doc martens, a legacy to protect, changing your hair when shit gets weird, idealism that haunts you, smiling more than you feel happy, smoke & mirrors, records, badly sewn flower patches on jeans, wand & dagger thigh holsters,  craving power, a different pair of sunglasses for every day, stacked rings, long pendants, glitter eyeshadow, being the sword and the shield, music being an escape that you didn’t realize you needed, a lion’s heart but chameleon’s adaptability, using people’s perceptions of you against them.

HISTORY:

childhood started off as a dream. being close with both of her parents, gervais& lucille, spending most of her time learning trades from them, she felt like she floating on cloud nine. growing up in galway, ireland, with all the life around her, the world was hers to explore, hospitality was in no short supply in her neighborhood. alice was so effervescent, that people were drawn to her light, to her kindness, to her free-spirited nature. alice had always been particularly close with her dad who brought back souvenirs from his missions as an auror, the unknown was something she wanted to discover as each trinket from every which corner of the world was collected. When her was dad away on missions, her mom would instill these ideals in her on how to be a kid, lifeskills, just fun things about magic, playing in her expansive garden, things for the soul – stories about home. when her dad came back her mom stepped back while he taught alice how to do savate, self defense, how to hold a wand properly, wand formations, about history, everything she could & very well should know. thanks to gervais’ influence, alice started asking question after question until she was absolutely convinced that being an auror was now her calling as well – all at the age of five. alice was a naturally kind child,  drawn to the profession of being an Auror is because it was driving some sort of darkness away. she wasn’t alone in her goal as she knew other people wanted to be aurors as well. her heart swelled at the idea of being part of something bigger than herself, being part of a group of people who were as passionate about saving the world & helping people as much she was.

after lucille’s stillborn child was when alice had to learn to have the emotional & mental capacity to learn to take care of herself, to deal with her emotions, feeling obliged to take care of her mother. alice was their only surviving child, who was spoiled rotten, and never had to go through anything relatively traumatic until the one thing that felt like it broke her family. she had a choice, to soothe herself or fall apart. alice would not fall apart, so she internalized it all, the ugly, the grief, the despair, the anger feeling like she had to shoulder all of the burden of balancing out the household.  while she had always been close with her uncle florean, aunt ophelia and cousin atlas it wasn’t until after the trauma that she was left more so with them when her dad was on missions and her mom retreated into herself. alice was able to escape from her home quite often into the shop, spending time with atlas in particular helped Alice to move on from the loss her family had endured. fortescue’s was the respite she needed from navigating her parents, florean being a role model and an especially influential figure in alice’s life during a time that she felt like she was suffocating. without him & atlas, alice would’ve collapsed into herself, would’ve surely lost sight of who she was going to be & what she wanted due to the pressure. florean reminded her that she was allowed to be a kid, she was allowed to let loose, those days were spent thinking of whimsical ice cream flavors and helping fix his various motorcycles & bikes while listened to pink floyd, the beatles, the supremes. florean & ophelia picked up on the spiritual education that she’d been lacking in since her mother had pulled away, something that was sorely needed after what felt like losing her mother entirely.

getting to hogwarts, there was a part of her that was surprised that she was sorted into slytherin even if alice did fit into the house like a glove. now in her last year at hogwarts, alice is prepared to face the outside world, prepared to graduate and become the auror she’s always meant to be. she feels a pull, a connection and feels as if she has to carry bloodlines in being an auror. alice needs power, she craves it, especially as the years pass & her mother has further retreated into herself. she was sorted into slytherin for many reasons – one of them being  because of her subconscious and burning need for the power over people’s feelings like her mother’s she wished she had, and the power over her own she she wishes she could master. the more power she can have as an auror, the more good she can do with her influence by having access to the training & information she needs to take down dark wizards. not only that, but the more she can learn how their minds operate so she can get the better of the death eater movement. alice is singleminded in her pursuit, willing to do whatever it takes & push herself as far as she needs to get to her goals &to help make this world a better place.

REACTION:

there’s a new legacy that alice wants to plant for her family, one that her father started, one she intends to finish as the years go by. despite a war having been brewing, alice knows she can be a soldier, she knows she is going to be part of the order when the time does come while also having high hopes to be an auror as she has since she was child can be conflicting, but it’s her path, she knows it. war is always a necessary evil, alice knowing her whole life fighting was never something she could avoid. so, she excelled in it. with how she was raised, with how her father &uncle left nazi occupied france, alice sees the death eaters as very similar to nazis. both groups advocate for genocide, using violence, brainwashing, manipulation, indoctrinating kids from the time they could use the silver spoon in their mouths to feed themselves. alice is aware she has privilege as well, as a white womxn, as very well off, as a pureblood, she’s aware that if she doesn’t stand up & fight as hard and as smart as she possibly can, she’ll just be part of the complicit. while she is a queer womxn, a known blood traitor with a pretty big target on her back related to her father, her privileges have enabled her to have a life that wouldn’t be possible for many other people. it’s her duty to fight, to stand up, to do something, to put her ass on the line. With several universes coming together – her objective, her goals do not change. in a way, this change has brought out the side of alice usually reserved for when she’s smoking a joint or indulging in the occasional psychedelic, the dreamer, the person who’s so curious that she could spend all her time just exploring the world if she could. new universes, alternate realities means more information, more opportunity to learn about the world around her and use that information to make the world a better place.

DIFFERENT TIMELINES: 

TIMELINE ONE: Some mornings, she misses her runs. Alice lets go in this verse, she lets herself fully indulge in the side of her that’s always been there and lets loose. The most fun at parties, the best person to take you on an adventure, in this verse Alice loves traveling and travels as often as possible. Becoming an Auror gets put on hold, Alice has so much more life to live before she dedicates herself and her time to the academy and the Ministry. Gervais Fortescue is alive and well, as is Alice’s mother who was able to cope and move on from the grief of losing her second child. Alice is extremely close to both of her parents and loves her extended family just the same. Teamed up with Frank Longbottom, they throw some of Hogwarts most memorable & exciting parties, a duo and now recent couple for the ages. 

TIMELINE TWO: When Gervais Fortescue is murdered just after Florean & Ophelia, Alice feels devastated. Alice and Atlas only have each other and though they are the same age, Alice feels protective over Atlas in the way someone would a older sister does over their younger brother. She’s not crumbled after tragedy before, she won’t do so now, Alice joins the underground Order the summer before her seventh year hoping to pick up where her father left off or do his legacy proud in some way even though they barely trust her to do patrols. As long as she’s doing something, she’s fine, as long as she’s protecting Atlas and keeping busy, pushing herself past exhaustion, she’s great. Because the Order won’t take her as seriously as they did her father ( she’s just a kid after all ), she decides it’s time that the students at Hogwarts have a chance to fight back, to do something, to let the world know there is still hope -- no matter how mangled it may be. 

#diversions.i #I DID IT!!! #copy and pasted my app and added timeline stuff!!

[lyscndcr-blog]

ok this is both queued bc i’m at work rn and totally just lifted directly from my app but your girls been a busy bean recently ok. hopefully this helps give a lil more insight into this nugget!!

❝ everything we ever were was alight with gold. / and when they asked us what love was we answered, / soft and bright, darling. / soft and bright. ❞  Lysander Scamander, Keiynan Lonsdale, Sixteen, Sixth Year, Ravenclaw, Demiboy, Half-Blood, He/Him 

 family/home life. 

- I dare you to tell me that Luna and Rolf were anything other than the most loving and kind parents you have ever met. Because they are, and life with the Scamander’s is nothing short of Lysander’s paradise. It’s the most loving tight knit family you could possibly dream of

- While his childhood was maybe odd at times, Lysander has never had to wonder what it’s like to be alone or unwanted, what it’s like to have to hide yourself, what it’s like not to have your best friends as your parents. Because while occasionally quirky, Luna has lived a life of the utmost acceptance and openness and along with Rolf she made sure to foster that kind of environment for her children. The twins were supported and even encouraged to explore their interests and passions freely and to unapologetically be the most true versions of themselves

- I’m sure if you asked Lysander to paint his childhood a colour, then it would no doubt be yellow. The scamander home (the lovegoods old tower on the hill, since rebuilt) always had a sense of vibrancy to it, a sense of excitement – it was never a dull moment growing up in the Scamander household  (or castle as he would call it in his early years). If he wasn’t running around the house chasing wrackspurts with Lorcan or finger painting a new masterpiece with Luna, then he was out marching through the grassy backyard on some epic quest to find a new undiscovered magical creature with Rolf. The world was just endlessly exciting, every new day a new opportunity and a new adventure.

- And what’s better than having a twin to share adventures with? the twins were basically attached at the hip growing up. Where there was one twin inevitably the other was stumbling through the door right after. Lysander never had to get used to the feeling of being alone because he never was, really. It was always his mom or his dad or his twin or some combination of the three. In his mind a twin is a guaranteed friend, really. A partner to face the world with. I think this is part of what really fostered his love and appreciation for the friendships he would make later in life, he was taught early on to value that kind of support and companionship. Thrived with it even.

- True free spirits, Luna and Rolf never shied from showing their children what the wide world had to offer – they were magizoologists, after all. Before both sons were obligated to begin their studies at hogwarts the family did a fair amount of travelling to all corners of the world, meeting all manner of people and creatures. Lysander had the opportunity to really witness the beauty of the world first hand.

- I can imagine things were never really serious in the Scamander house. I think Luna and Rolf taught their sons serious lessons of course – things like tolerance, and humility, and generosity – but never in an overly serious way if that makes sense. Lessons were delivered with smiles and laughter and fun; always a lighthearted and gentle atmosphere. His parents were definitely believers in the concept of “you get more flies with honey than with vinegar” concept; gentle encouragement over strict reprimands.

- That’s the thing I most associate with the family home honestly: warmth. A relaxed, fun, happy place free of judgement and expectations. And that’s something that’s really stuck with Lysander even as he grows older now. Home is something to be cherished above all else, a place that will always accept you and people that will always love you. He misses his parents desperately when he’s away at school and always makes sure to write them as frequently as possible (and doesn’t even mind when his mom sends him weird packages back)

- That’s not to say his childhood wasn’t without its quirks though, things that were normal to Lysander because he didn’t know any different but no doubt confused others outside the family. Weird family traditions or habits - things like making sure you had your butter beer corks to ward away the nargles before you left the house. The home is probably constantly in a cluttered state, things everywhere with no rhyme or reason but which Luna insists are exactly where they were need to be. Why was there a sneaker tied to the chandelier? Nobody knows and nobody bothers to ask anymore. The walls are adorned with murals and the style of decor surely doesn’t match, changing from room to room in a kaleidoscope of colour and pattern. Trinkets and little souvenirs from all over the world have crept their way onto every surface and space. While it probably looks like a hippies art studio exploded all over it tbh, the home positively oozes comfort and familiarity and positivity.

personality

- Lysander is honestly a direct reflection of the environment he grew up in – open, honest, and with a heart that’s just bursting at the seams it’s so full of love. It’s not hard to tell he’s his mother's son. He’s oddly intuitive, always seeming to be in tune with the emotional mood of the room – though sometimes he doesn’t pick up on other more obvious cues. It’s rare to find someone who can say they’re truly happy with who they are but Lysander wouldn’t even blink before agreeing

- While others maybe would have gotten sick of their mom’s “weird quirks” or outgrown such a positive (and some may call naïve) outlook on life, Lysander’s still nothing but fond of her and his eyes have never lost that youthful sparkle. Looking on the bright side and keeping a little imagination in your life is just makes experiences so much more enjoyable in his opinion

- He never fails to find the joy in the little things and turn around a bad situation and honestly he’s just a sweet ray of sunshine okay

- if you’re ever having a super bad day or just need someone to sit and listen Lysander’s your guy – he’s always ready to be there to support a friend and offer a kind smile. That’s his main goal in life honestly – to leave every place and everyone a little better, a little happier, then he found them

- he’s a true romantic at heart ngl like he’s all over the grand gestures and gooey relationships no matter how unrealistic it may be. he just loves love and everything it relates to. He could get his heart broken over and over and would still be enamoured with the concept of true love

- He’s a very creative person and this definitely reflects in his style - it’s daring and bold and maybe even a little out there at times. Don’t be surprised to see him rocking the bottlecork earrings with pride or have his hair a fun new colour every week

- on the flip side though, he can tend towards being unrealistic at times – looking at the world through rose coloured glasses. He’s not exactly the grounded and practical type and while it can be good to look on the bright side, sometimes it’s just not feasible. 100% a heart over head kind of person which can get him into trouble

- He’s also a little too trusting at times, wants so badly to give the benefit of the doubt and focus on the good in people that it ends in him being taken advantage of. He’ll give and he’ll give and he’ll give until there’s just nothing left for himself which can leave him emotionally drained if he’s not careful

- As a whole he just relies on his emotions too much – for better or for worse. It’s not that he can’t think of a more logical path of reasoning (and I mean he is a ravenclaw) it’s just that he tends to get carried away. So while he greatly loves, he can also greatly hate haha – the boy knows how to hold a grudge.

- That doesn’t mean he’s a total pushover though – quite the opposite. He has a pretty strong moral compass and inner resilience that he’s not willing to compromise on. Like sure, on little things it’s often pretty easy to get him to cave; he just wants to see you happy. But when it comes to his convictions? Nope. You can bet your ass if he sees you bullying someone he’s about to storm over and pull out some witty and terrifying smack down that you didn’t even see coming. Which I think is an important hidden part of him – he kind of has this secret hidden badass within him. He’s not some naïve happy go lucky little idiot, his positivity and his demeanor is a choice. He chooses how to interact with the world and sure in this case it’s in a gentle and friendly way but don’t you dare think that makes him weak.

- I guess what I’m trying to convey is he’s not a fluffy little weak head in the clouds marshmallow, he’s smart and strong and gentle and kind all at the same time. Just because someone approaches the world in a position of love and positivity doesn’t mean they necessarily timid or naïve.

- I think very much like Luna he has a hidden intelligence to him and is actually someone who’s quite sharp. It just tends to get lost under all the other stuff unless you really look for it. You don’t tend to think that the one with stars in their eyes could have so many gears turning underneath. In subjects he’s interested in he actually excels greatly and is very capable. In courses he doesn’t like or doesn’t feel inspired by? ...not so much

-How he labels and presents himself has never really been something Lysander has cared much about, honestly. His views on such abstract concepts as sexuality and gender and where he falls in that spectrum are very loose and if he had the choice it would never even need to be addressed. But he’d kissed a cute Gryffindor boy for the first time in fourth year, closely followed by a sweet Hufflepuff girl a few weeks later and apparently that confused people. He pierced his ears and wore glitter eyeliner and painted his nails and suddenly people were asking him why. Why? He just believes in just being the truest form of himself, he would tell them time and time again, whatever that happens to be on that day. Believes in expressing himself however that may look. Why does he have to be one thing or the other? He’s going to dress and act however he wants to and love whoever he wants to with reckless abandon. Love is love to him. It’s to be shared and celebrated in all it’s different forms. There’s been labels he’s felt some semblance of kinship with in the passing years - panexual, genderqueer, polyamerous - but even those never really felt right and even a little restrictive. The only thing Lysander wants to be is himself.

+ Positive, compassionate, friendly, gentle, intuitive, creative, honest, supportive, accepting, loyal, witty, curious, approachable, imaginative, kind, adventurous, genuine

– Overemotional, idealistic, too trusting, stubborn, melodramatic, indecisive, clumsy, nosy, trouble saying no, absent minded, indulgent, impulsive

Patronus: Otter

Wand: 13 ¾, rowan wood and unicorn hair, slightly springy

Zodiac: Cancer Sun, Libra Moon, Libra Ascending

Myers-Briggs: ENFP - The Campaigner

Enneagram: Type 2 - The Helper

Temperament: Sanguine

#holocene intro #is i think what the tag was? #shoot #i'll fix it when i get home if I have to #( about ) #q

[ellanainthetardis]

Prompt: "Given that Haymitch looked like a boy who was pulling on Effie's ponytail to catch her attention, Finnick wasn't sure he could really throw the proverbial first stone." could we get a fic where Haymitch is literally doing that with them as kids or teenagers? doesn't matter if Hunger Games AU or Modern AU. just want them as kids grating on each others nerves 'cause it's actually their first crush or something. (and maybe they meet again when they're older) I'm willing to bribe with chocalate and cake. ;)

I turned it into one of the Hogwarts au because of reasons ;) You can find the other ones in the series here but you don’t need to read them to understand this one  [x]

An Invitation To Madam Puddifoot

History of Magic was the most boring class ever and Haymitch didn’t think any of the third year stuck in that classroom with him would have disagreed. His only consolation was that the Slytherins shared that class with the Hufflepuffs so, at least, he wasn’t suffering alone. His best friend sat right beside him and suffered with him, not something that was always possible given that they belonged to different Houses.

Unfortunately, Chaff was currently perfecting the art of napping with his eyes right open and wasn’t offering much in order of distraction. On his other side, Johanna had given up on even pretending to be interested and had placed her head on her folded arms, clearly asleep.

Haymitch’s eyes wandered around the room but there wasn’t much to see aside from students just as bored as he was so it wasn’t any wonder that his gaze ended back on the most interesting thing in the classroom. Which was saying something because it wasn’t that interesting. There just wasn’t many girls who dyed their hair bright colors every other week.

Euphemia Trinket, third year Hufflepuff, Pureblood if there ever was one, Effie for her friends, had always sported bright colored hair ever since he had known her. He could still remember watching her getting Sorted from the Slytherin table and praying she wouldn’t get sent to the same House as him because she looked annoying. Who in their right mind dyed their hair purple for their first day at a magic school? Even for wizards that was extreme for an eleven year old.

It was dyed a soft shade of pale blue, that year, and it was currently tied in a high ponytail that kept swinging left and right every time she moved her head to whisper into her best friend’s ear. The fact that she was sitting right in front of him was distracting. He watched the blue hair sway in front of him for a while, mesmerized for no other reason than the fact Binns’ droning was sending him into a trance state that would probably have made the old Divination teacher very happy, until the movement and the incessant whispering started annoying him.

What was so fascinating that she couldn’t shut up for five minutes? Her fellow Hufflepuff friend seemed riveted by the tale. Gossip, probably. She was that type of girls who lived for gossip. Shallow and superficial and rich… A typical aristocrat.

He kind of hated her for all that alone. His muggleborn roots and, above all, the misery he had grown up in couldn’t forgive that.

He didn’t really know why he did it. Maybe because he had been spending the last fifteen minutes thinking about her and that was fifteen minutes too long. Maybe because he wanted to see if her hair was as soft as it looked. Maybe because he was bored and that was the best distraction. Or maybe it was because her eyes always slid over him as if he wasn’t standing there at all, dismissed before he had even opened his mouth – although he was very used to that, Muggleborns weren’t exactly welcomed with open arms in Slytherin.

He grabbed the ponytail just as it swayed back into place when she lifted her head. He let go just as quickly.

Damn, but it was soft…

He was very aware that Chaff had snapped out of his nap and was staring at him with a small frown. He was also very aware that Trinket had turned around with a perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted in inquisition.

He ignored both of them and pretended to be transfixed by Binns’ third rendition of whatever Goblin rebellion he was on about. He even took a few notes for good measure.

When it became apparent he wouldn’t say anything, Trinket narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips and turned back around. Chaff leaned back in his chair and watched him, waiting for his next move, having apparently concluded that this was all a plan to have some fun. It wasn’t like they weren’t in a habit of pulling pranks after all.

He felt compelled to tug on her hair again five minutes later. Because Chaff was clearly waiting for him to keep up with the game and he couldn’t explain to his best friend what had possessed him to touch her hair in the first place. His desire to know if it was soft didn’t seem like a good enough reason.

This time, when she turned around, she didn’t look inquisitive, she looked annoyed and not at all convinced by his innocent act. Still, she didn’t say anything. She huffed, turned back around and combed her fingers through her blue hair. Her friend Livia was tossing him curious looks and, after he had scowled at her, huffed too and focused back on her notes.

A few minutes later, Livia whispered something in Trinket’s ear and they both giggled as if it was the funniest thing ever. Somehow, Haymitch knew it was about him.

He was far less gentle when he tugged on her ponytail for the third time and she was far less amused when she whirled around. Her wand, he noticed, was now in her hand and he smirked because… What was she going to do? Hex him in the middle of a class?

The bell ensured he would never get the answer to that question. With a collective sigh of relief, everyone started packing up. Jo jumped in fright and then slammed her book in her bag, grumbling all the while about useless classes. Distracted both by her and Chaff’s guesses as to what they would be served at lunch, he put his own things away.

But that was without counting with Euphemia Trinket who wouldn’t be ignored. She planted herself in their path in the corridor.

“What is your problem, Abernathy?” she hissed.

The wand was gone, he noticed, and Livia was standing a few feet away, clearly there for moral support but not close enough that it really counted.

She had balls, he thought, to confront the three of them when they had something of a reputation for being troublemakers. Never mind the fact that two of them were Slytherins and most people still thought Slytherins were the devil incarnated.

“You know my name. I’m shocked.” he snorted.

Jo was confused and frowning but Chaff rolled his eyes and made a dismissive gesture that probably meant Haymitch would handle the situation.

“Is this what it is about, then?” Trinket retorted with a touch of disdain that immediately had him on the defensive. “Ensuring I know your name? There are better ways to do that, you know. If you wish to ask me out to Hogsmeade, the proper way is to actually ask me and not tug on my pigtail like a child.”

“Excuse me?” he half-scoffed, half-laughed. And maybe half-panicked too.

She pursed her lips and looked him up and down as if she was evaluating him. “You are quite good looking despite the pimples… Of course, Seneca already asked me to go to Madam Puddifoot’s with him and he is a four year and he is also on the Quidditch team so you will understand why I cannot go with you this time but perhaps on the next Hogsmeade week-end I would consider it.”

Seneca Crane was not only older, he was in Slytherin – so maybe she wasn’t so prejudiced against his House – and such a pompous asshole, Haymitch avoided him at all costs.

As for the pimples… He struggled with the impulse to cover the red one on his forehead. His mother swore they would go away eventually. But maybe he should check the library just in case they had a spell that would…

He stopped himself right there. What was he even thinking? Who cared what he looked like? He certainly didn’t. He wasn’t like one of those stupid teenagers who only thought about looks. He was better than that.

“Oh…” Jo crooned in a voice that was full of laughter. “How adorable… Madam Puddifoot…”  

“It is the best place for a date.” Trinket agreed with a disapproving look for the other girl. “Not that you would know.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I think you’re getting ideas…” he mocked, still smirking. “Ain’t interested in taking you anywhere.”

“Your grammar is atrocious.” she snapped. “You would have to make an effort if you wish to court me.”

“Court…” He started repeating the word only to choke on it, torn between amusement and fright. He resolutely ignored Chaff who was doing his best not to burst out laughing but was clearly struggling to keep it in. “I ain’t courting you!”

“You called me sweetheart.” she scowled.

“I call everyone sweetheart.” he spat. “Even Jo. Everyone knows that.”

“It’s fucking annoying.” Johanna complained. Not for the first time.

Trinket didn’t like that one bit. She glared a bit. “You pulled on my hair.”

“’Cause it’s blue and ridiculous and it was right in my face.” he scoffed. “Not ‘cause I want to take you on a date.”

Who even made that kind of leap? That was jumping to conclusions alright.

If glares could kill…

She placed her hands on her hips, pursed her lips tight and tilted her head to the side, staring him down as if he had murdered her whole family and her pet too. “You are insufferable.”

“That’s a five syllables word. Careful, you’re gonna give yourself a brain sprain.” he taunted.

“I am surprised you know a five syllables word.” she retorted without missing a beat. “In fact, you are such a stupid boy I am quite shocked you can read at all.”

She turned on her heels and stormed away, grabbing her friend’s arm on the way, leaving him to stand there, fishing for a comeback that was too late in coming. Oh, but he hated when he didn’t get the last word…

The moment the two Hufflepuff girls had disappeared around the corner, Chaff finally roared with laughter. Johanna snickered with a little bit more dignity.

Haymitch chose to walk forward and leave them there to have it out.

Except his friends were more difficult than that to shake off and it wasn’t long before they were right back on either side of him, quickening their pace to keep up with his long strides.

“So? Madam Puddifoot… Big fan of tea parlors, yeah?” Jo mocked mercilessly.

“Should have said you had your eyes on Trinket, buddy…” Chaff added, still laughing. “I’d have scooted ahead for you…”

“I don’t have my eyes on Trinket and I fucking hate tea.” he snapped, glaring at both of his friends in turn.

“Sure didn’t look like that when you were petting her hair…” his best friend chuckled.

Haymitch rolled his eyes but he knew he would never hear the end of it.

That would keep them going until June probably.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #thg hp au #funny one #fighting hayffie #jo #chaff #HBIC effie #not established