#and later that night she gets visited by the witch of the waste and cursed

[willowcrowned]

hmc au mustang’s howl and ed’s the nephew who makes him magic up a computer game when he comes visiting without any gifts

you’re so smart you’re so so smart. ed is tangentially aware of mustang’s whole. thing going on with the theoretical magic phd and the not-so-theoretical magic door but he doesn’t care because technology is the future and also he knows exactly how much of a loser mustang is so instead of ever bothering to ask him anything about magic ed just bullies him into making video games. priceless

riza keeps running into roy in different disguises when he’s trying to woo people around town and every time she thinks he’s a COMPLETE loser and makes sure he knows it

#how dare my follower’s all be ten times smarter than me #anyways i think in this au riza is Sophie #or sophie-adjacent #she manages the hat shop her father left her after he died and she's very straightforward and businesslike and a little dull #but she goes out and about when she needs to and oddly enough #she keeps running into different women being flirted with by men who all have the same blue-and-silver suit #and one mayday when she's gone to get some flowers for the shop window she runs into a dog with some very familiar black eyes #who steals a bouquet for her #which she rolls her eyes at and goes back to pay for #and later that night she gets visited by the witch of the waste and cursed #so she closes up shop and goes to find the wizard mustang everyone is talking about #since she knows enough about magic to have figured out who exactly it was as that dog and in that suit #and when she gets to the castle it is. predictably. filthy #and the only furniture is a side table and two mismatched chairs #and she goes oh okay. and starts cleaning #and that's how it starts #asks #anon #fmab au #fmab

[fernthefanciful]

A princess is a creature of grace, poise, decorum. They are soft, gentle, patient. I, however, was none of those things, much to my parents’ despair.

 They only brought that upon themselves, of course. A firstborn daughter, a royal invitation to greet the new monarch not sent, and therefore an insult perceived by a powerful magical being. You know how the story goes. I was cursed and, in my story, there were no blessings to gentle it. No other wishes for my future, or what little she left of it. Just a creature of shadow and talon which appeared, damned the bright vision my parents had of my life, and vanished.

  My childhood was a moderately happy one, even with the dark cloud of the curse hanging forever in my periphery. My parents loved me. My sisters, when they were born, did the same. And I of course love them with all that I am. My parents hired tutors, made sure I learned what it meant to be a monarch, made sure I was prepared for a future of rule. They simply made sure my sister learned as well.

  “Just in case.” My father would say, his gaze flitting across the empty hallways as if something unseen was always listening, always watching.

  And when I got too restless, when the green of the forest and the blue of the lake called to me and I couldn’t help but give in to the need to run, to chase, they took me riding. We’d make trips, have picnics, run around on the heather-filled fields and watch the sky change her colour with the setting sun. For the longest time, we were as happy as we could be.

  My eighteenth birthday was a beautiful and clear full moon night. The air rife with the scents of fresh bread and roasted meats of the feast held in honour of my coming of age. Gentle and joyful music filled the ballroom as people danced and laughed all night.

In an empty hallway, as far away from people as I could get, I screamed and cried as my body tore itself apart. As the wildness that had always lived inside of me wanted out. The howl that tore from my newly changed throat was loud enough to wake the entire city.

  I should have been terrified. I should be lamenting the turn my life had taken, all the things I now no longer could do. I should have felt all of those things. But when I made my way out of the castle and into the forest, the ground soft underneath my paws, the silver moonlight a gentle caress on my fur, I couldn’t help but think that his curse tasted a lot like freedom.

  The wildness that had always lived inside of me, the parts that longed to shed the tight clothing and even tighter responsibilities of nobility, were torn from the inner shadow where I had hidden them and shoved into the light. The parts of me that wished to run, to hunt, to feast, finally had a chance to be free.

  Things changed after that.

  Now, people are wary, afraid. My parents try, they really do. To teach me to act normal, ladylike, human. It’s of no use. The wolf lurks under my skin, peering out of my eyes.

People whisper about how much of a waste it is, such a shame, that a curse has changed me so. They don’t see, they don’t understand. The wolf, the wildness, the hunger, has always been there. It is me, the deepest parts of my soul given physical form.

  Life goes on. My sister, perfect, composed, kind, steps into the limelight. Or is pushed, I should say. To placate those who question my place at Court. Meanwhile I am forced into the background. An animal in the shadows meant to be forgotten.

  My wolf balks at the idea of corsets, of rules, of restriction. Doesn’t understand the need for playing nice with nobles it doesn’t like. She’s a creature of instinct, simplicity, and therefore, so am I.

  I spend my days roaming the grounds, protecting what is mine. The people of the city avert their eyes as I go past. Whisper about curses and how they spread, about what it means for the Kingdom that their princess is now a different creature altogether.

My wolf claims the entirety kingdom as her territory and as I get older, I travel further. Checking in daily with the people on the far edges of the lands. The misfits and the outcasts. The ones with wisdom and magic who have been pushed towards the edges of the kingdom long before I was born. Hatred and fear pushed us all here, to the lands where the briar grows three men tall. Where the trees and the shadows move on their own and where the water of the lake is always smooth, no matter how fierce the storm.

I help where I can, chasing off the foxes for the farmers, climbing trees to hang fetches and talismans for protection, bringing food to those who need it most. Most time is spent drinking tea and discussing life with the old lady whom everyone calls ‘witch’. She teaches me all she knows. Things the tutors at the castle never knew to teach me. About the plants and trees that grow, the animals that roam deep within the forest. About life here, on the outskirts of society, and all the peoples and creatures that are part of it. Here, the people look me in the eye. They bow their heads in respect but never in fear. The bravest of the children ask to card their hands through my fur. The old woman laughingly gifts me a crown of twigs and burrs and rowanberries the colour of blood. Every time I’m in my human skin I wear that crown with pride.

  One day, deep within the forest at the edge of my territory, I meet her. The being who has brought all that was hidden within me to the front and then illuminated it. I shift back to human, standing before her, naked and open, but never vulnerable, thanks to her. I thank her for the gifts she has given me. For the freedom and power and strength. The look on her face when I name her fairy godmother is priceless.

  She smiles at me then, a flash of razor-sharp teeth. I bare my own fangs back at her. She asks me then, if I understand. How they are being treated. Those who do not fit in, those who are made of wildness and shadow and blood. How they are shunned because of what they are.

  She tells me this will change, once I am queen. When I tell her that I never will be, that my parents will never find a match for me, she simply laughs and tells me not to worry. After all, I have a fairy godmother now.

  She keeps close after that. Always watching, always near, but never interfering. Not unless I ask her to. So when war, inevitably, finds itself at our borders, I ask for her aid. I stand in the middle of the bloodied battlefield, staring at the incoming forces. The wolf in me is itching underneath my skin. She wishes to hunt, to kill, to feel flesh rip underneath her claws, blood filling her mouth as she tears them apart. So I call out to my fairy godmother, asking if she would join me for a hunt, before I shed my skin along with my humanity and charge forward.

  The battle is brutal and short. The enemy army is better trained, but not against the army of outcasts led by myself and my fairy godmother. Their swords and shields quickly fall against our teeth, claws and magic.

Afterwards, I greet my father on the battlefield. Bare and covered in blood. There is fear in his eyes, yes, but also respect. And, for the first time, trust.

  Things change once again. I am brought back into the castle, but nothing is the same. I spend most of my time in the forests, still, but I also find myself fighting. Training with weapons other than tooth and claw. Weathered old men, tutors, hired by my father to teach me all they know. I learn how much I don’t know, how much there is still to learn. I earn my scars, even if they never stay for long. I earn their respect, even if it is hard won. I am no longer alone, some of my people from the outskirts join me and never leave their princess’ side.

  It doesn’t take long before suitors come from all over the world, wishing to marry one of my sisters. Singing praises about the small kingdom that could so quickly put an end to war. That could tame monsters and wild things. Silly men, none of us were tamed, we simply chose to fight.

  My parents and sisters work hard to get the most advantageous matches. To make sure that both the kingdom and my sisters will continue to grow and prosper. Bargains are struck, feasts are had. One by one my sisters move away, happy with their chosen husbands. All of them are visited by a giant wolf at least once. They know to treat my sisters well, or one night feel the sharp tips of my fangs against their throat.

  Years later I am gifted another crown. It is a beautiful thing. Delicate golden flowers and bright shining gems. It feels uncomfortable to me the way all pretty things do. “It might not suit you,” my father tells me, “but you have earned it.”

“As you have earned your rest.” I tell him.

“You will be wonderful, my Queen.”

  Rumors start spreading, about the Wolfqueen, the Wild One, sitting upon a blood-red throne. About the Kingdom of monsters where beasts, fae and man live free. About the Queen with the Iron Heart, who turns away all who wish to court her, and kills all who dare more.

  It’s not that I do not want someone at my side. I do. I wish for the love that my parents share. That my sisters eventually found with their husbands. But all those who come for my hand, those who finally dare when I have no more free sisters left, come for just that. My hand but not my heart. They are all poised and polished. Perfect little princes who look towards the wealth of the castle but away from the wildness within me. They are afraid to meet my wolf’s cold, assessing gaze.

  Some even try to change me, to find the human underneath the wolf. They only try once.

  For years, I rule alone. Through another war, through a plague born of magic, through prosperity and abundance. My people always by my side but no one to claim my heart.

  But then, a commotion. A man, dressed in furs. No scars on his body, but plenty on his soul. His eyes glowing the same gold as mine in the gentle torchlight. A wildness in them that my wolf recognizes. A challenge that my wolf is eager to take, to rise up to.

  “Your Oracle told me to come here.” He tells me, “I asked for guidance, to find what my heart truly desires, and she sent me to you.”

  My fairy godmother steps up behind me, laying a hand on my shoulder. I can’t see her, but I know she is smiling a smile of sharp pointed teeth. No doubt the oracle he speaks of.

  “My Queen,” he continues, bowing deep, his eyes never leaving mine, “I came looking for connection, for freedom. I believe I will find it with your time and your company. Will you grant me it?”

  “And what, my prince,” for if my fairy godmother sent him, he can only be that, “will you grant me in return?” I lean forward, eager, hungry.

  “Loyalty,” he steps forward, onto the dais, “companionship and understanding.” He leans over me for a single, challenging moment, before kneeling before me, baring his throat. “Perhaps in time even love. But for now, the thrill of a hunt. Of a chase.” He grins, baring sharp fangs. A breath, and a beautiful black-furred wolf sits in front of me.

Oh – the hunt is on. A thrill goes through me as I shift, ready to run, to chase him down and claim him for my own. For if one thing is certain, it is that I am a wild thing, a Queen, a hunter, but never, ever, prey.

(First posted on my website)

#fiction #story #short story #werewolf #fairy tale #faeries #fairy #queen #writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #fantasy #princess #wolf #romance #well sort of #at the end #fairy godmother #fairytale

[themadauthorshatter]

OH MY, GOODNESS!

RED SCHOOL UA HEADCANONS/STORY!

Sorry for not picking this up earlier. This part we are focusing on Arc 2: where the RQ cast meets the SGE cast.

Sophie is über excited at meeting the crown prince, but Agatha is less enthused because she's a realist and doesn't know HOW the RQ crew is getting over to the SGE.

Tedros and his friends are ecstatic they're meeting the Nortan princes. They even wonder if there are more than just Cal and Maven.

The students are all on the hot topic of Nortans visiting, though Agatha is pulled aside by Hester, Dot and Anadil, who all express their anger and impatience at Sophie, who won't shut up about Cal in particular, even though he's betrothed. Agatha assures them everything will be fine when Sophie sees that Cal and Evangeline are an item. (Yeah right. Marecal all the way.)

In Norta, it's rumor city among the Silvers, who aren't exactly looking forward to entertaining a bunch of school children.

Our main three in Norta are talking about their upcoming excursion to the school in the Endless Woods, Cal being apprehensive to leave Norta practically unguarded for an unspecified amount of time, but excited at the idea of seeing new lands, Maven just not wanting to go because it seems like a waste of time, effort, and resources, and Mare not exactly sharing her thoughts because she'll be even further away from her family than before.

Evangeline is not amused. At all. She's just playing along until they get back and never have to deal with the students of the School for Good and Evil again.

Regardless, they don't know what could be there, so they need to make sure they're not potentially making any new enemies by this complete accident on Tibe's part. Or, that's his thought process at least. And he's only told Cal this information, as, from what he can tell, the SGE isn't Red and Silver and instead use magic, a concept only found in fairytales. With an entire school of teenage witches and wizards and warlocks, and maybe a dragon or two, assuming this place is prestigious and in the higher end, it's better to make an ally rather than an enemy. And the idea of warring aginst school children does not sit well with Cal.

In training later, though, Maven and Mare see that Cal is absolutely faking his excitement at least a little bit, like 58% faking it. It shows when Arven pits him against Evangeline, Sonya, and Elane.

He ends up nearly burning all three of them alive, lost in wanting to get the fight and group training over with so he can be alone and think his thoughts.

Silly, Cal. Maven is paying attention, and asks what's wrong.

Cal brushes it off and says everything's fine, but Mare and Maven know better, Mare having seen what liars look like and Maven knowing Cal for all his life.

Cal tries to a go about his day and ignore whatever he's thinking, which is difficult to do because Maven's following him. He turns and Maven stops, simply explaining that he's going the same way as Cal. They continue walking, but Cal notices that Maven's not really going anywhere, content to follow his bother. This results in a chase between the two of them, Cal jogying before speinting to shake Maven off his tail, succeeding when he loses Maven down a hall, as in he ran down the hall partially before hiding behind a wall and watching Maven sprint right past him.

Maven only realizes he got played when he can't hear Cal anymore.

He and Cal don't meet up for the night.

He talks about this with Mare, and brings up that Cal's avoiding him.

TV/Graphic novel perspective, over time we see Cal get followed by both Maven and Mare, though over this time Cal grows more agitated and looks more annoyed and tired as they continue to try to see what's wrong with him. Maybe we even get a gag of both Mare and Maven spying on Cal from behind a wall, hiding behind it when he looks over his shoulder, and then continue their spying when he looks back, confused, annoyed, and agitated.

After a week, Cal catches Mare and pulls her into a room before leaving and telling her to wait for him.

He returns with Maven, who's over his shoulder, trying to remain calm, because Cal's stronger and bigger than him, and even tries, in mild panic, to negotiating to not beat him to a pulp, because Cal looks ready to murder them both.

He sets Maven on his feet and tells them both very bluntly to stop following him; not only is it freaking him out, but his soldier instincys are going haywire and he will not heistate to attack them both, which he doesn't want to do because it won't end well.

Mare and Maven apologize, but, being concerned despite herself, Mare asks Cal what his problem is, seeing as how he's avoiding both her and Maven.

Cal gives them a tired look and takes a breath. "Fine."

CUT THE THE SGE!

Tedros, Tristan, and Chaddick are hanging out together away from the Evergirls, though Chaddick does admit that the girls are looking nice today(16 year old hormones, am I right?)

Tedros isn't listening, balancing his sword on his fingertips.

Tristan, arguably the most feel-y of the three, wonders if or when the Silvers will arrive.

Tedros doubts they will, but one can hope.

This turn if pessimism confuses both Tristan and Chaddick, and Tedros happily explains:

They're all just students. What would royals and nobles want with a bunch of schoolchildren? They don't even have magic, don't believe in it, don't know it, just don't have any magic. The closest thing they have to magic is their silver blood, and not even THAT is magic because of how limited it is.

That, and Sophie and the Nevers will probably drive them all away.

Speaking if Nevers, Chaddick admits how weird it is to see them getting showered and clean, presentable in case the Silvers arrive as a surprise visit.

It is odd, but it's in their best interest to play nice with everyone, and that unfortunately includes a very babbly, and planning-to-be-flirty Sophie.

Speak of the devil, Sophie emerges from the trees to find the trio, specifically Tedros, who she wants to talk to.

He leaves, lying that he has some homework to do.

He's really going to find Agatha, who's reading to pass time and get her mind off all the gossip.

They have a rocky conversation about the current events and even wonder what silver blood would even look like, if they ever get the morbid chance to see it.

Agatha asks why he's talking to her and Tedros sighs that he just wants to avoid Sophie, but also wants to be around someone who's smart.

She smiles and asks if he thinks she's smart, sort of silently teasing him as he stammers and tries to come up with a save for the tongue-slip.

He spots Nicholas behind her instead, eyes wide and red as he raises an axe over his head, aiming for her.

Tedros, thinking quickly, tackles him and throws the axe away, which knocks Nicholas out of his daze.

Tedros shouts at him, "What the hell was that?" but Nicholas only looks around, very confused as to how he got into the trees or even got hold of an AXE.

There's confusion all around as Nicholas stumbles away towards some friends, muttering about a headache he now has and how sore he now feels.

Agatha and Tedros only exchange glances, worried and confused.

Was it a curse? A hex? A spell? And how did he get a weapon from the Doom Room?

CUT BACK TO NORTA AS CAL HAS JUST FINISHED SPILLING THE TEA! All three are sitting in a triangle on the floor, because it's close to night time and, because I'm a sucker for parallels in a story, to establish that despite the age differences between them and the students, and the experiences Cal and Maven had on the war front, they're still kids too.

Mare fights the urge to dry heave and Maven only hums at how Tibe is actually paranoid enough to consider war against a bunch of kids.

Cal admits that, yes it is ridiculous, but he's still unnerved. It doesn't help that they're dealing with people who have magic, which is stronger than Silver powers, even Mare's lightning is possibly no match; magic is all encompassing while their powers are limited to one "element."

Mare, in an attempt to alleviate the atmosphere, wonders if everyone will even BELIEVE what Norta says about these kids, as magic doesn't exist in their world.

Cal admits he does not believe in magic. It's not that he's heartless, he's just seen too much to know better. As much as he'd like to, he knows that it's nothing but slight of hand and tricks to fool the other person.

Maven agrees, except he's known because of Elara, but he gives them an explanation closer to what Cal said, only changing that he saw a magic show and saw how the tricks were done to fool the crowd.

When they ask her, Mare admits that if she believed in magic, and if it was real, it would have made things different for her and her family, she also inwardly admits that she'd make things different for all Reds as well.

After a moment of silence between them, Maven asks Cal if he's heard anything about them leaving and visiting these endless woods, and Cal shrugs, sighing that it's all speculation and in the air. If they do go, it will be both brothers and their betrotheds, Elara, Tiberias, a few other High House children(Elane, Sonya, Olliver, and Ptolemus), and a few guards, one of them being Lucas. Volo Samos and the rest of Tibe's council will stay behind to keep Norta in shape while they voyage to the School, stay for a little bit, and then come back, assuming things go okay and don't take long.

WE ALL KNOW NOTHING EVER GOES RIGHT IN STORIES😈

Either way, they all take a breath and leave the room together, Mare hoping Lady Blonos doesn't scold her for being alone with both princes. Cal tells her not worry because they'll cover for her, saying they had a bet and Cal won. Maven mutters, "By default," and he and Mare jog away as Cal chases them, yelling that they'd better explain what that means before he gets his hands on them both.

TIME JUMP/FADE TO THE DAY THE NORTANS LEAVE FOR THE ENDLESS WOODS, THE FADE HAPPENING WITH A PAN TO A WINDOW AND THEN GLIDE DOWN TO THE DOCK!!!

Mare sighs up at the ship before boarding, noting a very anxious Cal looking over the walkway as he himself walks aboard, Evangeline striding ahead of him.

Maven chuckles that Cal's always been a scaredy cat around water, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

Mare admits that while Cal is acting like a child, it's actually a smart move to know yoursl own limits and weaknesses.

From his place higher on the ship, Tibe gives Mare a, "Well said, Lady Mareena," and admits he may have underestimated her ability as a strategist. Maybe her time around Cal and the other High House children is rubbing off on her.

Mare fakes a thank you and notices Maven looking away.

I have not forgotten how Tibe isn't as loving as Maven; no amount of tragedy is going to negate neglect.

Mare tries to back up the now crestfallen Maven, but Elara calls for her son, asking to speak with him alone, mother to son.

He agrees and walks off to meet her, looking back at Mare before he does.

Tibe watches them walk off, and we get a glare off between him and Elara before the Queen leaves to speak with her favorite son.

Once they're gone, Mare asks how he can stand a bitch like Elara. She gets they were arranged to marry, but two people cannot hate each other that much.

For context, Mare's been here for about 4 months. She's visited her family only twice and has had a lot of time with Silvers and dealing with Tibe, Elara, Evangeline, and anyone who isn't Cal, Maven, and Lucas.

Back on track, Tibe semi-scolds her that, as a lady of the court, she should know better than to be mouthy towards him.

Mare, kind of fed up with his BS, folds her arms and counters that as a princess and his future daughter-in-law, they should be comfortable with each other enough for her to ask such a question.

Tibe gestures for her to come closer and she approaches, close enough for Tibe to sneer at her that if she thinks he's letting Maven, his son, his boy, marry a Red rat like her, she's more of a fool than all of the Scarlet Guard put together.

Lost in her anger, Mare asks which he's more afraid of: Telling Mare the truth or having his court, and the rest of Norta, Red and Silver, find out their secret.

With a glare down, Tibe congratulates her on how she's picked up verbal combat, and that she's a good learner. He then admits that the two of them aren't very different.

It offends Mare DEEPLY and she asks what that means as Tibe begins walking away.

Another bit of context, there are two sets of stairs to the upper level of the ship, a left and a right. In a fun bit of camera work/detail for anyone paying attention. Mare would walk up the right hand stairs to meet Tibe and, when he walks down the stairs, he walks down the left hand stairs and Mare follows him, the two walking back to the deck, so Mare basically walked around in a big circle. Just a cool thing I'd add, maybe it'd be symbolic of her situation or of some kind of cycle, I don't know. If you have any ideas, feel free to tell me.

Back to the story, Tibe explains to Mare that they're trapped by who they must marry, or have married in Tibe's case.

Another small detail, on the upper level, Mare would be on the left hand side of the screen/panel and Tibe would be on the right, but on the deck they're sides change, Tibe being in the left and Mare being on the right.

I'm a sucker for small details, so sue me!

Back on track for reals, Mare's VERY confused because she thought princes, or kings, could choose who they could marry. Tibe agrees that, yes, that usually is the case, but the reason he couldn't really choose was because there weren't anymore Queenstrial participants for him to choose from.

"But you have two sons?" Mare ponders.

Tibe shakes his head and asks if she REALLY thinks ending an alliance with Volo Samos of The Rift is a good idea, based on what she's seen from his daughter, Evangeline, half-joking that he's glad Cal is her betrothed and a simple friend of Ptolemus, who's shown how much of a berserker he is. (Yes the Scarlet Guard attack on the Summer palace still occurs.)

Mare asks what he'd do if that was the case, and Tibe chuckles, saying he'd renounce the throne and give it to Maven instead.

The two only chuckle, not comfortable enough with each other to fully laugh, and then Tibe admits that while he isn't sorry for needing to keep Mare a secret, he is sorry that she's alone, and forced into a life she never wanted.

"If you're so sorry, then why not let me go home?"

"Lady Mareena, the high houses would end us both."

For once, Mare can't really tell if he's lying or not, but doesn't get a chance to ask as Tibe returns to the top deck, Cal walking around the desk to Mare. He notices that his father is walking away from her and she looks a little distraught and very confused.

Cal looks between them and asks what happened and Mare simply answers that she and his father were just having a talk before leaving to her room/cabin

It's going to be a long ride to the Endless Woods

This is Part 1 of Arc 2, they do say the second act is the longest.

Keep your eye out for Arc 2, Part 2, because THAT is where things pick up even more

Anyway, Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!!!!

#red queen #school for good and evil #red school #ua #au #mare barrow #maven calore #tiberias calore vii #cal calore #elara merandus #tiberias calore vi #tedros of camelot #spohie of woods beyond #agatha of woods beyond #sge tedros #sge agatha #sge sophie #evangeline samos

[fangirlfics]

Nightmare (Fred Weasley x reader)

summary: y/n relives the horrors of the battle of Hogwarts every time she closes her eyes

word count: 1,012

y/n walked into the great hall, scanning all of the witches and wizards that filled it. People were sitting in shock, being taken care of, standing, and bodies were on the ground in other places. She felt like her heart had stopped beating, she knew many of these people-seen them in the halls and talked to them.

y/n felt her stomach lurch, this place that she had once called home was destroyed. The ruin piled up and it’s debris covering her messy hair with dust and her clothes in dust and ash. Finally she caught sight of the people she had been looking for and she could breath again. The Weasleys stood huddled together along with Harry and Hermione, Percy and George’s backs were facing her and it didn’t take long for her to realize that something was wrong. They were huddled around a body. She felt her heart stop once more as she stumbled forward as her wary legs continued to carry her towards them. When she was within feet of them she stopped dead in her tracks and let out a scream, her hands flew over her mouth and panic filled her from the top her her head all the way to the bottom of her feet. The Percy looked up with tear filled eyes while patting George. 

“Fred.” y/n whispered, now at his side, she sank to her knees trying to make sense of this. His once bright face was covered in dirt-his body lifeless and still. This wasn’t the Fred she knew, this was a corpse. “No...” y/n breathed, “no no no, Fred!” She began to sob, her entire body shaking. Mrs. Weasley put her hand on her shoulder to comfort her. 

“He loved you so much, y/n.“ She whispered through her own tears.

y/n’s throat was burning, her tears were streaming down her face even harder as she gasped for air through her heavy sobs. She barely noticed what was happening around her until Bill bent down to pull her onto her feet. Bill who never cried embraced her with tears in his eyes and y/n sobbed into his shoulder. As if hugging him would bring back Freddie. Her engagement ring shone lightly in the dark room and memories of Fred came flashing by. 

Dancing around at the Yule ball with Fred and George, cheering for Fred at his Quidditch games, him getting yelled at Oliver Wood for protecting her from the bludgers while they were supposed to be playing against each other. The first time she visited the joke shop, the moment he had proposed, and their failed attempts to cook pancakes the muggle way-which ended with waking everyone up in the Burrow because there was so much smoke. 

She heard his voice echoing through her head “’When I get married, I won’t be bothering with any of this nonsense.’” She had laughed when he had said that-they had been fixing up the garden for Bill and Fleurs wedding and had suggested that they could just skip the wedding and sign the legal documents instead to avoid inviting people-he had agreed with a laugh. (“Brilliant When should we do it?”) She closed her eyes now, knowing that would never get to happen.

y/n/ jolted up in her bed, gasping for air. Her eyes were stinging from fresh tears as she scanned the room with wide eyes. She didn’t realize until a few moments later that she wasn’t in a bed, she was sitting up on the Weasley’s small couch in the Burrow. She couldn’t stand going home and being alone after the hogwarts fight, and Mrs. Weasley had invited her with open arms. 

Her breathing started slowing down as she drew in shaky breaths. She continued to cry harder, pulling her knees into her chest as she attempted to muffle her sound behind her hands, closing her eyes tight. She hated this, hated reliving that terrible memory.

 She heard the creaking of the wooden stairs behind her and knew someone was coming down-curse my crying. Now I’ve woken someone up. She thought. Bright blue light flooded the room as a hushed voice came in a whisper, “y/n?” Her head turned to look at George who was now at her side. For a moment she had thought he was Fred. He kneeled next to her on the floor, and y/n swung her legs off of the couch to give him space to sit. None of them said anything as he readjusted herself onto the couch. 

“I heard you crying, more nightmares?” He asked her quietly after a few moments passed by.

She nodded. “The same one.” She said, “It’s always the same one.” She started to cry again.

“I get them too.” He confessed. “Every night.”

“I just miss him...” y/n whispered. 

“Me too.“ He said quietly. 

“You know for a moment I thought you were him, standing by the stairs.“ She confessed, “I guess part of me keeps wishing that it was all a dream.”

“Me too.” He was silent for a moment before saying, “sometimes I look in the mirror and think I see him standing there. Thinking about dying my hair, actually,m it happens so often.”

“Oh George...” y/n whispered, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“You know what Ginny told me yesterday?” He asked the girl, she shook her head, “she said that Fred wouldn’t want us to cry-he’d want us to live our life rather than waste it crying about him. I reckon she’s right, I bet he’s pissed up there watching all up mope around all day.”

y/n laughed a little at the last part. “And we’ll always have him.“ George continued, “he may be gone but his memory sure isn’t.” 

“We’ll see him again one day.“ y/n smiled with her eyes closed.

“Well maybe you will, if you end up going to hell, I’ve got other plans.“ y/n smiled at his joke. “Now come on, go to bed before my mum sees your bags in the morning-she’ll start fussing.” Thanking him, she went back to sleep, and dreamed of Fred. 

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #x reader #reader insert #deathly hallows #harry potter imagine #harry potter and the deathly hallows

[sallysuesworld]

Harry Potter was just a regular boy, who grew up in a happy family. It was just him and his parents, and the frequent visits from his godfather and uncle, and his friends.

However, the Potter Family had a secret. A dark and dangerous one. But I suppose it wouldn’t be apt to call it a ‘secret’, since the whole world knows of it; in fact, it’s published in the newspapers everywhere. The Potters have become a household name among wizards and Muggles alike, ever since one grey and dismal Halloween, in 1981.

The world had become a dangerous place by then; there was war being waged against Muggles, and people were being killed for their blood, or persecuted for their beliefs. Around that time, the Potters had gone into hiding, with a one-year-old Harry, for whose life they feared over everything else. The war had hung over everyone like a looming shadow.

On that particular Halloween night, the Potters were going about life the best way they could, while in hiding, when they heard a loud crash at the front door.

A man with dark, unruly hair and spectacles ran out to see the commotion. It was the Dark Lord, and he had business to settle.

“Lily, take Harry and go!” the man cried. “It’s him! GO! RUN! I’LL HOLD HIM OFF!”

The Dark Lord could hear frantic pattering of feet from upstairs, which was where the mother and the child must be. He couldn’t help but wonder how, a man without a wand, could so bravely face him and expect to be able to hold against him for long, never mind that the man was of pure blood. But he didn’t have time to waste.

“That’s all well and good, James Potter,” said the Dark Lord, pointing his wand at him, “but I’m not here for you, or your pitiful Mudblood of a wife.” He spat the word out as if it tasted bad in his mouth, and James Potter clenched his fists in anger. “I’m here for your child. Step aside.”

“You’re not going anywhere near my family,” James retorted. "Take me if you have to, but not them." Oh, how noble. A true Gryffindor, laying down his life for others, just like his father. But Voldemort wasn’t going to stand here and listen to whatever heroic thing James had to say. He gritted his teeth impatiently.

“I don’t have time for this, James. Step aside, and I will spare you, and maybe that Mudblooded excuse of a witch that you love so much, too. I’m only here for the child. Step. Aside. I don’t have all night.”

“Hell yeah, you won’t!” James pounced at Voldemort, turning into a stag and charging at him. This wasn’t what Voldemort was expecting. Surely Peter Pettigrew would have said something about this. But Voldemort had no time to ruminate on this. He drew out his wand and aimed spell after spell against the angry deer, whose antlers tore into Voldemort’s robes and even managed to stab some painful wounds into his sides. It was a close call. Voldemort narrowly missed getting his heart impaled, but James the stag had still managed to inflict some very painful wounds.

“Enough!” Voldemort pointed his wand at the deer, and a blue light shot out, forcing the deer back into the man. James was panting heavily, wounds and scratches and curse marks all over him, as was Voldemort.

“I’m quite impressed, James Potter,” Lord Voldemort panted. “I’ll admit, you’re every inch a true Gryffindor, just like your father. But I’ve wasted enough time here. Stupefy!”

And the man slumped to the ground, unconscious. The Dark Lord figured he could deal with the man later. He wasn’t planning to kill him. Not yet. Not when he had so much for James Potter in store. He would make a fine Death Eater; the Dark Lord was sure of it. He’d just need some time to come around, after the inevitable grief of losing both his wife and that thrice-accursed child of his. But for now, the Dark Lord was focused on making his way upstairs, to finish the job he had come for.

The strongest protective charms had been put in place; Voldemort could tell. He could feel the resistance emanating from the locked door ahead. But that was no matter; Voldemort easily and lazily flicked his wand, and the charms collapsed. Voldemort opened the door. “Alohomora.” Too easy.

But no sooner did he walk in did he hear a cry of “Reducto!”, and Voldemort found himself thrown back against the wall, slightly disoriented. The mother was quite impressive in her spellwork, for, well, a mother. Voldemort got up and walked in like it was nothing, and pointed his wand at her, noticing that the crib behind her was empty, yet that the mother seemed quite protective in standing between him and the crib. The mother was hiding the child, he knew.

“Where is the child?” he demanded. “Hand it over!” The mother waved her wand to cast another spell, but Voldemort easily disarmed her with a wordless “Expelliarmus” and pointed his wand straight at her. “I’m losing my patience here. Give. Me. The child, and I may spare your life, just as I’ve graciously spared that of your husband’s. He’s asleep, now, don’t worry,” Voldemort smiled. It felt so odd to smile, when you had nothing to rejoice in, at the moment. Perhaps in a few minutes’ time, but not now.

The mother, that silly girl, glared defiantly at the Dark Lord, staring death in the face, and spat at his face. Voldemort recoiled and wiped his face in disgust. The mother smirked. How dare she spread such filth!

“Stay away from my family,” the girl said darkly, in a manner paralleling that of her husband’s. It mattered not. The child was going to die, and so was the mother. Perhaps Voldemort could get James to hand over the child to him, with a bit of convincing. The Dark Lord smirked back and pointed his wand at the filthy little girl.

“I will wipe out every Mudblood off the face of the Earth, and that includes you. Your child will join you in death, while your husband will reign with me, as my Right Hand. Any last words?”

“My husband will NEVER want anything to do with you and your kind, Voldemort,” she said in all finality.

“Very well, then. I shall see to that personally. Avada Kedavra!”

James startled awake, eyes darting frantically across the place, which was now reduced to rubble. He felts aches and pains all over his body. He heard the familiar roar of a motorbike, and footsteps pattering quickly towards him.

“James! James, oh Godric, James, what happened?” Sirius’s figure came into view as he helped James out. There was a towering figure approaching them from behind Sirius, which James could only recognise as Hagrid.

James looked at Sirius and Hagrid in panic. “Lily—Harry—Voldemort—he—”

“I’ll look for ‘em,” Hagrid volunteered, and disappeared behind James, treading carefully around the rubble.

Sirius stayed behind to heal James’s wounds. “What—what happened? How? I thought…”

“He broke in and he stunned me,” James said, in a flat, matter-of-factly tone, though his heart was still hammering against his chest in fear and apprehension. If only he had kept his bloody wand on him at all times, like Dumbledore had said. How could he have been so stupid? Though he definitely had Remus to thank for his ability to transform into a stag. That held Voldemort off for a while longer. And the Invisibility Cloak…

“Dada!” the sound of baby Harry’s calls flooded James with an inexplicable relief, as Hagrid carefully brought Lily and a completely unharmed Harry out of the rubble. Though there were two new things he noticed. Firstly, was that, Lily had a fresh wound on her head in the shape of a lightning bolt. Well, this had happened before; people giving their lives for others led to something called sacrificial protection, thus leaving that infamous scar. It had happened quite a few times in this war. But…usually the other person sacrificing himself would have to die for the protection to activate, right? At least, that was what he’d noticed so far during the war. James looked at his own body.

“Am…am I dead?” he asked weakly. He was sure that Voldemort had only Stunned him.

“No, you’re not,” said Sirius, but he himself seemed a little confused at Lily’s scar.

The second thing that James noticed, was that baby Harry seemed to be glowing a little.

(in this story, Muggles are aware of Wizards' existence now, and they have been coexisting together on a Truce ever since the Statute of Secrecy was abolished after the War of Grindelwald. The relations between Wizards and Muggles are still quite tense, though.)

#jily survival au #marauders #canon divergence

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

the friends we made along the way [1]

“A renowned adventurer, a wounded knight, her protégé, a fiery healer, an exasperated mage, an infamous thief, a squirrel whisperer, a double agent, a mysterious witch, a soft-spoken artist, and a perfectionist chef all go on an adventure to save the princess.

“It sounds like the opening of a bad joke, but no, rats are invading, the kingdom is in distress, and if this group of misfits don’t save the princess from the rat king, Grengresh, before he drains her magic and uses it against them… then they’re all pretty screwed.”

Y'all ever wake up and just write something completely unprompted that is 100% self-indulgent and that literally no one asked for?

Well, I do and here's the first part.

Read on AO3

[i] a dark and stormy night a rat scurried across the floor

The parchment remained bare, with only the exception of a wet ink dribble slowly spreading along the lower-left corner. 

Even with all the magic flowing in her veins, ready to ignite with a mere flick of her wrist, Violet still couldn’t make words pen themselves to the page. Somehow, writing a letter had become the hardest thing she’d done all day. 

First, she thought perhaps it was too stuffy within the bedroom, so she opened a window. The warm night air carried the scent of early spring-- blooming lilacs and cold soil from the gardens swirling with the early indications of rain, something lovely enough to clear her head, she thought. 

When that hadn’t worked, Violet paced about the room. With arms stretched high above her head, she then bent down to touch her toes. When that did nothing, she even spun around with as much grace as a land-stranded fish would. She thought if she could get the tension out of her shoulders, her focus would center. Then, she could write this letter. 

But, spinning around with nothing-- rather, no one to hold onto only reminded her of those long-gone days of dreaded dance lessons. 

Violet’s mouth twisted at the thought. The king thought it best she learn, as it’s something most princesses in other kingdoms excel at. 

Ben quickly realized Violet did better in other physical activities, such as archery, rather than dance. Then, once her magic grew stronger, there was absolutely no more time for dancing. At least, not that kind of dancing. 

Violet stilled, gaze stuck on the floor absently. 

Did Brody think about those days, as well? The days where after hours of archery practice, Brody took her sore hands in hers and spun them around as they laughed and embraced? Or was she too preoccupied with secret treasures hidden within abandoned caverns, with fighting off dangerous, mythical beings with the most renowned hunters? 

“You could come with me.”

A long, miserable sigh escaped as Violet plopped back down in her chair, knees brought to her chest for her chin to rest up as she stared out at the night sky, or rather, the disconsolate clouds that night sky hid behind. Judging by the dark color and the faintest rumbles of thunder, Violet predicted rain would fall over the lands of Erisonia quickly, within the hour. 

At least Ben would be pleased, Violet thought. King Ben had a thing about the rain. He saw it as a gift for their crops and gardens. While that may ring true for him, for Violet it brought bittersweet memories of that night two years ago-- the night Brody asked her to leave with her. 

Violet twirled her pen between her fingers, hesitating to dip back into the dark ink. More thunder grumbled in the distance as faint rain began to fall. Even so, Violet didn’t move to close the window. She welcomed the rain tonight. 

“You could come with me. With your magic and my grand sense of direction, we could travel the world together-- see everythin’ it’s got to offer.”

A bird with striking blue feathers fluttered in gracefully, perching itself on the window sill. It didn’t shy away when Violet reached out, instead drawn to her. The bird kept its balance on her fingers as she admired it. 

Two years, she thought. Two years since Brody left Erisonia in search of excitement, adventure, and treasure. Brody left everything and everyone behind--including Violet. Her leaving was premeditated, of course. Brody always knew she would become an adventurer one day, having let Violet know years in advance that one day she’d walk out of this kingdom in search of something greater. 

What had been a shock was that Brody wanted Violet at her side. 

At first, Violet thought it to be a joke, that surely Brody knew she could abandon Ben, the kingdom, and her other companions. 

“Why not? It’s not like we’ll never come back, and if King Ben needs ya, which knowin’ him, he will... then he’ll call.” 

Violet wanted to agree. As they stood close together, seeking shelter from the rain under the garden’s gazebo, Violet wanted to look Brody in the eye and agree. 

She wanted to go back to the castle that night and pack all her essential belonging, inform Ben that she would be leaving with Brody and that nothing would stop her, say her goodbyes to Clementine, Louis, and the other knights and companions she’s grown to love over her years, then get on Brody’s horse and ride out of the kingdom just as the sun began to rise. 

That’s not what happened, though. 

Violet made it clear that she couldn’t go-- her brother needed her by his side to run this kingdom, and the most selfish parts of her hoped that would be enough to keep Brody there with her.

But, her love’s mind was already made long before they had ever met. 

Brody, while hurt and anxious at their impending departure, didn’t push further. Instead, she took Violet’s hand in hers and pressed a long, delicate kiss against the inside of her wrist. A silent promise, they both knew. 

A promise that Brody would return for her.

She left that very next morning. 

They exchanged letters, but as time went on, Brody wrote less and less. Sometimes, Violet’s letters would be brought back as Brody wasn’t anywhere in the area she addressed anymore, and she’d have to wait weeks for her to write with apologies and a new contact address. 

Many rumors and stories began to surface about the girl, stories of the things she’s conquered. If they’re all to be believed, then there isn’t a doubt in Violet’s mind that Brody’s time was hardly wasted on letters to her. 

The bird chirped at her, fluffing up its feathers in a huff before taking flight. It moves about the room in a panic before soaring out the window. Something heavy takes hold of her gut, squeezing as she watched the bird disappear in the distance. A bright flash momentarily blinds her, and only seconds later, a deafening clap of thunder growls. The rain had gone from light to a downpour, so Violet finally closed the window to prevent her parchment from getting soaked. 

“Be safe,” she murmurs, thinking of the little blue bird who paid her a visit, then once more of Brody. 

Her empty letter mocks her, so she starts with something simple-- Brody’s name. 

Brody

Easy enough, but if only the rest of her words flowed so nicely. 

Sure, she could describe the mundane weather the past few weeks brought them, or update her on how much her archery had improved, or even detail the story of Ben accidentally firing off all the fireworks gifted to him from the kingdom of Richmond during his birthday celebration, setting the food court aflame and angering chef Omar, who then proceeded to chase Erisonia’s king around the yard with a ladle.

Violet grew tired of paint-by-number letters, but every time she sat in her chair ready to pen her feelings, it’s as if she forgot the entire language altogether. And as Violet sat there, watching rain droplets trickle down her window and listening to the angry thunder, it occurred to her that if the feelings for Brody hadn’t run so deep-- if Violet didn’t still love Brody as much as she did even after all this time-- then she could find the words, could write an easy letter inquiring of Brody’s adventures the way old friends did. 

It was that thought that terrified her.

Violet crossed Brody’s name out, then crumpled the paper. 

An erratic banging startled her, forcing a curse to pass her lips as she jerked her leg right into the hardwood of the desk.

“Violet! Vi, get up!” a familiar, muffled voice calls from the other side. Violet, that sunken feeling returning to her gut, hurried from the desk to across the bedroom and unlocked all three locks. Before she could even pull the handle, Louis forced himself in, knocking into her. 

Luckily, she was able to catch herself. Before she could open her mouth to chastise him for bothering her so late, Louis slammed the door shut, relocking it. He panted heavily, unable to catch his breath as he wheezed out her name. 

“Vi, thank God, you’re okay!” Louis wheezed out, turning to press his back against the door. “We gotta go! Grab your bow, pack up- gotta get to the tunnels!”

“What?” Violet interrupted. “No, what’s going on? What-” 

She noticed the blood caked along his forehead. The gash wasn’t too deep from what she could tell, still oozing fresh blood. Upon further inspection of his overall appearance, Louis was a mess. Blood smeared across his armor and stained the sword at his hip, his face somehow both flushed and pale all at once, and his dark eyes wide with a million thoughts. 

“Louis, what the hell happened to you?”

Louis ignored her question and checked the door once more. After a moment, he moved in closer to rest his hands on her shoulders, and that regretful look in his eye uneased her.

“Vi, Grengresh is here- there have to be about thirty rats, I-” Louis took another deep breath as tension overtook Violet’s form. “King Ben sent me and Clem to get you but- but we got jumped and she stayed behind with the others to make sure they don’t get here- They’re back for you and we- we need to go! Get you somewhere safe!”

The blood ran cold within her, but the magic flared. With teeth sunk deep into her lip, Violet searched for any indication on Louis’ features that this wasn’t real. At another clap of thunder, he flinched and peered behind his shoulder with a fearful grunt. That was more than enough for Violet. 

Grengresh-- or rather, King Grengresh, as the rats knew him-- was back for her. After his last unsuccessful attempt to steal her away in the dead of night many years ago, he came back with reinforcements. There had been word that more and more rats were showing up in the mountains, that Grengresh was forming an army, but--

Memories of that night come flooding back, paralyzing her where she stood. 

Claws digging into her thin arms, the hot, rotting breath along her neck that woke her, lips curling over fangs, and those horrifying yellow eyes staring delightfully down at her-- Grengresh’s tail whipping around to knock her down as she cried for help--

“Vi, hey,” Louis spoke, lightly shaking her shoulders. “I know. I know, but we need to move. The rats know where we are but he’s not going to get you again, we just need to- we need to get through the underground tunnels. C’mon.”

He let go of her, moving over to the closet where she kept her bow and quiver with specially handcrafted arrows. 

“Ben-” Violet choked out. “What about Ben?”

“With Clementine,” Louis answered, and his voice trembled with obvious unease. “They’re buying us time, but there’s only so much--”

“We can’t just leave them,” Violet took the bow and quiver of arrows from him, gripping them tightly. Small sparks left her fingertips, running along the bow. “We- we should help. This isn’t like last time. I’m not a kid anymore and with my magic--”

“I know, trust me, I tried to stay behind. I said the same thing but we can’t let him get ahold of you, Vi. Clem made that perfectly clear,” Louis told her. “Look, I don’t doubt you, but you know what’ll happen and I- I can’t-” he wiped at the blood dribbling down his brow, unfocused, “-they’re strong. With Clementine leading them, the rats have no chance, but we will have no chance if they take you away.” 

Something deep swelled inside of her, some sort of toxic concoction of fear, rage, and bravery that fueled the magic to spark in her palms, illuminating up her arms as she secured the quiver on her back. This caught Louis’ attention. 

“Violet, please, we have to move. Open the passageway and we can-”

The hardwood floors beneath them rumbled as an explosion vibrated through the castle. Violet’s breath caught in her throat, unable to move at the sound of crumbling walls and faint cries. 

“Oh no,” Louis panicked, unsheathed his sword, and rushed back to the door. “No, no, no, Clem-”

He froze only when the voice that haunted Violet’s nightmares drawled close from behind the door. 

“Oh, sweet princess~” Grengresh chuckles in a scratchy, singsong voice. “I can smell you hiding in there.”

The sparks grew brighter, vibrating with her accelerated and angry pulse as Violet glared at the door. 

“Even now your sweat carries your fear, sweet princess… and the boy, your protector, he cannot hide the terror and anguish. How is your heart, boy?” 

Louis gripped the handle of his sword tight, dark eyes wide. 

“How is your heart? Heavy, no doubt!” Grengresh sneers. “To leave a lover to her doom with not even a kiss goodbye- Oh, how is your heart, boy?”

The other rats joined in, laughing as they continued to claw the door. 

From beside her, Louis cursed weakly, head hung low as tears threatened to spill over. With no time to crumble under the rat king’s cruel mockery, he grabbed Violet’s free hand and winced as her magic burned him. He tried desperately to pull her back towards the wall where the secret passage was to open through her magic. 

But Violet couldn’t think of such things-- all thoughts of escape were long gone. Now, all Violet could think of was getting her hands around Grengresh’s thick, furry throat. 

“You could make this so easy for us,” Grengresh continued. 

Enthusiastic scratching tore at the door, loud and frantic. They would be through soon, and the irrational, furious side of Violet longed for Grengrash to appear for when she got her hands on him-- 

“Come with me and no more of your people have to die tonight. Not that you have many left… your poor, poor brother is going to have such a mess to clean up, and so many new knights to hire… well, assuming he’s not already dead, of course.”

Violet rushed the door, but Louis’ arms wrapped around her, jerking her back towards the other side of the room despite the sparks of magic shocking him. 

“No,” he begged in her ear. “Violet, please, we have to-”

“It’s not all bad though,” Grengresh continued, a heavy bang-- possibly from the full force of another rat’s weight-- punctuating his words. “My fellow rats have many limbs to snack upon for the ride home now!”

The other rats cackled with delight, and Violet saw nothing but white. 

The door flew off the hooks, bouncing off the bed and into the wall with a deafening sound. 

The rats were quick, but Violet was quicker, drawing her bow and charging an arrow. It flew and hit the first rat inside, now on the floor jerking about with the arrow sticking from its neck and blood staining its brown fur. 

"Vi, go! I'll-"

More rats of various colors and sizes-- five, perhaps-- all with bared teeth and nasty grins, swarmed them. Louis leaped ahead, his sword piercing a speckled rat with a broken fang who cried out and attempted to lash at him. Violet shot her charged arrows swifter than ever before-- if Brody could see her now-- and she managed to take down two more before a smaller white one tackled her to the ground. 

Drool spattered over her face at the rat nipped at the air inches from her face, only being restrained by her arm against its neck and legs kicking into its belly. Violet focused the liquid hot magic into her palm, shoving her fingers into the rat’s blood-red eyes, sending pulse after pulse into the rat’s brain. It cried out in agony before the skull shattered, and the rat fell limp over her. 

“Shit!”

Louis’ sword got stuck in the belly of a rat that pinned him against the wall. Its tail whipped around, cracking against the cement walls. Louis pushed, shoving the rat away. However, the rat gripped the sword, and with its final bits of strength, thrust its claws into his shoulder, piercing the armor. 

Louis staggered back and pushed the rat off him. The body fell, the sword sticking up for Louis to grab, but Grengresh himself got there first. The rat king’s pointed nails threatened to break the skin as he wrapped a hand around Louis’ throat, forcing him back against the wall. Another rat leaped forward and pinned the rest of his body down.

His gagging caught Violet’s attention, and in seconds she was back on her feet and lunging at Grengresh with fiery white magic swirling around her.

“Violet, no-!” Louis choked out. 

Violet was so close, but the other reminding rat intercepted, tacking her to the ground. Though she shocked him, the magic frying its insides, she couldn’t get away fast enough. Grengresh’s tail cracked along the back of her head, and Violet’s vision went in and out of the darkness. 

Grengresh smirked down at her, his yellow eyes wide and merry as he sunk his teeth deep into Louis’ shoulder, getting a tight grip before ripping away, breaking away a chunk of armor and flesh.  

Grengresh dropped him to the ground and whipped his hard tail across the back of his head. 

Louis laid there, unmoving.

“Louis! Fuck, shit- Louis!”

More rats surrounded Violet, clutched onto each of her limbs, and held her down as she struggled. Her magic, though weaker, still managed to hurt them until Grengresh’s tail slapped down on her stomach, knocking all the breath from her lungs. 

Something cold and heavy locked around her wrists, and within moments, the magic sparks fizzled out. What felt like lead weighed down her bones-- the cuffs, Violet realized much too late. They're enchanted!

“Get off!” she demanded. “Get the fuck off me!” 

“Now, now,” Grengresh cooed, amused. “That is not the language used by a princess.” 

Violet spat at him, her spit landing on the dark fur of his chest. 

“Unladylike,” Grengresh shook his head, sending his tail down against her stomach once more. “That won’t do.”

Violet coughed, hacked up what tasted like blood. Grengresh’s nose twitched high in the air. He hummed, eyeing the door.

“Help comes for you, sweet princess. Too bad they’re too late for you and the poor boy,” Grengresh said. “Don’t worry, you won’t be killed. You’re far too valuable for that.” 

Grengresh moved down on all fours now, creeping closer to her. Despite herself, Violet felt as though she were a child again, and the monster beneath her bed had come to take her away. But this time… this time Violet knew the guards wouldn’t make it in time, and Louis--

She glanced at his body, still unmoving. Blood pooled around him.

Even if her head were clear, she couldn’t describe aloud the pain she felt both within her, and along her skin. The metal cuffs soaked up all the magic she had, and with the bodies of the rats holding her down, everything burned. 

“Shredard,” Grengresh addressed the rat on Violet’s left, with dark eyes and pure black fur. “Give that concoction of yours a whirl.”

“Yes, sir,” Shredard said. 

Only a moment later, a cold cloth was placed over Violet’s nose and mouth.

No matter how hard she struggled, darkness took her. 

#[the friends we made along the way] #twdg violet #twdg brody #twdg briolet #twdg ben #twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg clouis #twdg omar #twdg fanfiction #twdg fanfic

[mcheang]

Lila the evil witch

Inspired by the Disney evil sorceresses: Mother Gothel, Ursula, the Evil Queen...what if Lila was an illusionist...but what was she after? The Disney villains were literally after a physical component: hair, voice, heart... the exception was Queen La of the Leopardman, she wanted Jane’s Husband

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK STORY...involving religion and exorcism.

The Daughter of Mrs Rossi was dead.

Inhabiting her youthful skin was an evil witch’s spirit named Lila. She even legally changed the name of the diplomat’s Daughter.

In the past; Lila had posed as a sweet Wiccan in an American village, living humbly. But she wanted more! (Inspired by Sarah Ravencroft from Scooby-Doo)

Lila was in truth a witch, and she longed to have the materialistic desires that everyone else desired. She was just willing to risk her soul in the process.

Lila cast love spells on the richest boy, causing him to obsess over her. She stole the beauty of the fairest maidens in the land to heighten her own. And those that opposed her soon found themselves sick.

It was the second issue that got the reverend concerned. His own daughter had suddenly gone from pretty to having burned skin.

He prayed in the Church for wisdom and guidance.

And perhaps it truly was holy intervention that caused a hypnotizing ray of moonlight to lead the reverend into the woods where he found Lila the Witch preparing a bath in a sunken pit of dark liquid. (Inspired from the book Another Faust where Belle took a painful chemical bath to maintain her beauty and allure.)

It was a repulsive bath. There was nothing so horrifying as the smell of blood, but there were crushed butterfly wings floating on it.

The reverend had seen enough. Lila was no innocent Wiccan; but a witch!

He wanted to expose her right there and then, but Lila had the male youth population on her side and was engaged to a very wealthy lad.

The reverend left the witch to her evil bath salts without alarming her to his presence.

So, the reverend gathered trusted adults for a secret plot to drive out the witch to the community.

He waited till the next moonlit night to lead them to the sunken pit and there they exposed Lila as a witch.

Lila snarled at them and raced out, her stinking naked body painted red. The men raced after her, determined not to let the evil escape.

They succeeded when one of their own threw a pitchfork at her torso. Lila lay dying in agony.

The villagers gathered around her in grim triumph.

But Lila had the last laugh, while she mocked them about their daughters’ disfigurements, she secretly cast a spell so her soul would not leave the earth. She knew hell awaited her for her crimes.

But being a disembodied soul is no picnic. And yet Lila knew currently, the judge’s Daughter was wasting away in bed from her curses.

Lila waited until the girl’s soul had passed on, before moving in on the still warm body.

When the judge returned from the witch hunt, he was jubilant that his Daughter had been cured.

Lila played her role carefully, lest she arouse suspicion again. She waited years before deciding to move to another town. By this time, Lila’s stolen body was middle-aged. She kept her eyes out for young blood.

And so it went on, Lila looked for a body with a wonderful lifestyle for her to steal. With her acting skills, it was a breeze. The few who noticed were silenced.

Of course, there were the other magical folk who realized what she was. The goody kind sought to exorcise her. They never succeeded.

One day, she came across a diplomat’s Daughter. She had a good life. A sufficient allowance, fabulous travels around the world, and little parent monitoring. She became Lila’s next victim.

After a couple of countries later, she legally changed her name.

Then Mrs Rossi announced they were moving to Paris. Lila initially had some concerns. The Miraculous were ancient relics lost to time. But given Hawkmoth’s failures and the heroes’ inexperience, Lila suspected they were not well versed in identifying magical creatures.

She studied her talented new class, looking for possible new victims. Living a life of travel was fun and all, but it wasn’t fully luxurious.

Obviously those with artistic talent like Marinette, Nathaniël and Kitty Section were out.

To be fair, the only viable candidate was Chloe. The girl was served hand and foot and got to be mean! That sounded ideal to Lila.

But, with Hawkmoth around, Lila suspected the mayor would get akumatized trying to cure her. Or even Sabrina.

Ugh, she’ll have to wait till he is busted then. What a bummer. Who knows how long that will take?

In the meantime, Lila might as well have some fun. Her gullible classmates were her new servants. But Adrien and Marinette kept their distance.

You see, upon first sight, the kwamis saw her for what she really was and warned their holders to be cautious. Thankfully they were strong enough to counter whatever magic tricks Lila could come up with.

Lila didn’t do that though, she relied on her lying talents.

As a result, Marinette never got the chance to spy on Adrien once Tikki strongly told her to not raise the liar’s suspicions.

Also, Plagg thoroughly was alarmed by this Lila girl and warned Adrien to keep his distance while they were separated in the library, and don’t let her take anything that belonged to him. As a result, the book is safe. And Lila doesn’t have a chance to be akumatized.

Ladybug and Chat Noir discussed how to exorcise her. It would take joint efforts but the original soul inhabiting Lila’s body was gone. After the exorcisement, the body would be a corpse.

The action itself was simple, Lila was physically no match for them. All Ladybug had to wind her magical yo-yo string around her and let its magic nullify Lila’s own. (Tikki’s magic can’t do that for Nooroo’s akumas) then all Chat had to do was literally push her with his baton.

Plagg’s power would destroy whatever was anchoring Lila’s soul and force her out.

But how to go about it? In public? In private? How do they convince Mrs Rossi her real Daughter is dead and an evil spirit now possesses her body?

No, the real daughter of Mrs Rossi deserves to be given closure. Her Mother should be mourning for her real daughter, not the Lila ghost!

Ladybug and Chat Noir brought in Alya’s help for this, as well as tell her Ladybug is so not BFFs with Lila!

Lucky charm: an actual recent video of the real Miss Rossi at the zoo for her birthday. Apparently she has an intense fear of snakes.

Ladybug and Chat Noir visit Mrs Rossi at work and ask to speak with her in private. Mrs Rossi is of course, disbelieving, until Ladybug suggests they use the snake test. If Lila acts as Mrs Rossi expects her to, they won’t perform exorcism. But if she does not, Mrs Rossi will let them go through with it.

Mrs Rossi is still skeptical about this bargain before Ladybug points out that with all the akumas and superpowers, how can she doubt what was happening? Even New York has superheroes!

Mrs Rossi admits she doesn’t want to face the truth that her Daughter has been dead all this time and she never even noticed.

Chat consoles her that she can at least give her real Daughter justice.

Alya and Marinette organize a class field trip to the zoo.

Mrs Rossi disguises herself as a zoo attendant.

Lila is paired with Alya to study the snake exhibit. Lila shows no apprehension whatsoever.

At the dim, empty snake exhibit, Ladybug and Chat Noir act. Lila shrieks and demands to know their reason behind this. She pleads for Alya to intervene but Alya just stands back, with the zoo attendant. Both watching silently as Chat Noir gently pushes her with his baton.

Lila’s body collapses. And a visible spirit manifests, still trapped by the yo-yo.

The spirit of Lila the witch is no longer youthful, and they finally see what her real form looks like. An ancient, withered hag snarling and screeching in hatred and agony.

Mrs Rossi condemns Lila for killing her Daughter.

Lila spits at her. “What can I say? A Daughter with little to none parental attention? She was such easy bait! I’ve been here for years and you never noticed.”

Mrs Rossi flinched at the accusation.

Alya stepped forward. “And what about Marinette? Were you going to target her too?”

Lila laughed. “I target those with envy-inducing lifestyles. Marinette may have the connections but she’s no Chloe. I was waiting till Hawkmoth was defeated before I took care of her. Marinette though, was open game. I don’t tolerate people who call me a liar.”

Chat: you are a liar.

Lila glares hatefully at the heroes. “You won’t win. I’ll be back, and when I do, I’ll kill everyone you love.”

Chat: yeah, I don’t think so.

He plunges his baton through her spirit, into the earth. The baton channels the evil spirit away from the earth. In the afterlife, there are 2 paths. Lila obviously has shown no repentance...her destination is obvious.

Back at the zoo, Mrs Rossi weeps for her Daughter. The heroes assure her that Lila is gone and won’t return. Alya is preparing to tell her class the news. They decided to keep this matter private. Mrs Rossi isn’t ready for this to be public.

The fake story: Lila suffered a sudden stroke.

The class wants to hold a funeral but Mrs Rossi insists on going back home immediately. She can’t stand the thought of the class mourning for that horrible ghost. They never knew her real Daughter.

Oh, and btw, Plagg finally convinced Adrien to take pictures of the book and send the information to the Guardian.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #lila gets exposed #lila is exposed #volpina au #lila is a witch

[yandere-ac]

Yandere Barold X Reader

Baggage

So yeah, this happened. I read @yanderebliss prompt about ugly villagers and got a bolt of inspiration at 2 am. And now this exists. So ...enjoy

Reject, outcast, mistake, ugly. These are all things that he had heard plenty of times. Oh, the so familiar sight of seeing someone walk up to him on a deserted island, take one quick look at him, then dash off without even giving him as much as a hi. It wasn’t uncommon, yet it still hurt every time it happened. He was well aware that he was...less than “desirable” but at this point he had just given up. He had given up on the idea that someone, ANYONE would ever want him in his village.

The only times he did move in was when another villager had moved out and he himself had bought the empty lot. But that want much better. Anytime he’d finally find a place to call his own he’d get harassed on a daily basis. Weather that be giving him trash, punching him around or even beating him over the head with a net, any island representatives would in some way abuse him until he’d say “enough is enough” and move away.

But...for some reason, he still saved up nook miles to buy tickets. He still went on the flights that would take him to those cursed island trips. Even if he had completely given up, there was still some small part of him that held out hope. A hope that one day, someone would see him and not turn around. So far, he hasn’t met a single person that even seemed to consider taking him in...that was...until he met you...

Wandering around a beach, picking up pretty shells and being in his own world, Barold didn’t notice as you approached him. When he met you, the two of you had a lovely conversation, talking about where you came and who you were. At this point, he was struggling so hard to control his breathing, someone was actually interested enough to talk to him? Truly, he wasted no time with dropping hints about him wanting to move somewhere. This was it, this was the moment where he sees if he’s indeed unlovable...or if beauty lies in the eye of the beholder...

When I tell you this man almost fainted when you happily replied “you should move to my island!”. Barold almost stared crying tears of joy (but he held it in, the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off). It took al his willpower not to scoop you up into his arms into a big embrace. He finally had found someone who wanted him! After years of torment! After years of abuse! No longer would he have to move from island to island, now he had a stable home. With a representative that didn’t care what he looked like!

It wasn’t until the next day when he where unboxing all of his stuff that he would be able to get a good look at you. It was around 10 am when you knocked on his door, wanting to say hello to your newest villager. You were the first to admit, you had a soft spot for the “ugly” villagers. Anytime your friends would visit your island you were always bombarded with the same questions. “But they’re so ugly” “wouldn’t you rather want someone cute like Raymond or Audie?” “Why would you waste space for such villagers?”

You really didn’t care what anyone said. No villager deserves such cruel treatment like getting hit with a net or being bombarded with trash! Anytime you saw an “ugly” villager, you made sure to strike up a conversation with them. And so, when we they asked to move in, you were more than happy to accept! Right now you were going to greet your new friend, Barold! You didn’t care what he looked like. But the thing about Barold was, yesterday when you had invited him, he had been to excited to really notice anything about you. The fact that you had even invited him in the first place showed him what a big heart you had.

But then, when you had entered his house the next day, JUST to greet HIM?! That’s when it dawned on him, you where one of the sweetest people he’d ever met. He could feel his face heat up as you gave him a reassuring smile whilst talking to him. It made him feel something he’d never thought he’d ever feel. Infatuation? Desire? Fondness? Whatever it was, he liked it, and he wanted more. He wanted to continue talking with you. Even after you had left, all he could think of was you, your hair, your clothing, your face, your smile. Oh god that smile, it made him so warm and fuzzy just to think about. He’d made up his mind, as soon as he’s done with his packing, he’s gonna visit you!

That was months ago, over those past months you and Barold had grown closer and had drifted apart. Well more or less. You see, at first. You and Barolds friendship was pretty healthy, you were hanging out a lot and you seemed to have a positive effect on his life. After so many years of abuse, his self confidence was extremely low. Anytime he’d feel self conscious, you’d be there to reassure him. And for a while, it seemed to have a really good effect on him. But after a while, he’d started getting more clingier, more possessive, more codependent, and much MUCH more aggressive. Now of course, he wasn’t ever aggressive towards you, never too you. He’d sworn to himself to never hurt you like other people had hurt him. But whenever he’d seen you interacting with other villagers he could feel his blood start to boil. Why did you do that?! Did you hate him?! He’d feel absolutely livid as he would storm over to whoever you were interacting with. At first it wasn’t that big of a deal, but when he started getting physical, that’s when you had to go to Isabelle.

And even when you knew this was for the better...You still felt bad doing it. You knew why Barold was doing this, he’s had so little positive feedback in his life. But you still had to tell yourself that his actions aren’t justified because of it. You still really cared about him, but you also cared about your other villages as well. And you couldn’t look the other way if Barold was trying to hurt your friends. You went straight to Isabelle that day, telling her all about what he’d done, including all of his obsessive behaviors. Isabelle was...shocked, to say the least when you takes your her. You could even see Tom looking over to you in pity as you detailed any of the things that had made you uncomfortable. Isabelle made sure to go talk to Barold. But the outcome was...way worse than if you’d have just kept your mouth shut.

Barold had tried to keep his composure as Isabelle had her stern talk with him. Only at the end when she had said “if you don’t fix this behavior, we’ll have to consider evicting you”. Once she had said that, he let out a small yelp as he tried to hide it with a smile. Putting on a fake persona, he told her he’d change his behavior and for her to have a good day. But once she had left, Barold went off. He started punching his walls, throwing furniture around and screaming to himself as he cried out. WHY WOULD YOU TALK TO ISABELLE?! YOU WERE GONNA GET RID OF HIM WEREN’T YOU!?

He wasted no time as he stormed outside. Once he found you at the town plaza, talking to Al, he felt his temper go up more than ever. With a furious roar he tackled Al to the ground and stared scratching his face repeatedly, although because of the size difference Al was able to easily punch him off. You immediately grabbed a hold of the savage bear you once called a friend as he started trashing around in your grip. Barold, blind with rage accidentally scratched you in the face whilst trying to get out of your arms. Although once he realized what he had done he gasped and could feel his world collapse. You relised him from your grip and fell to the ground, your face stung like hell and by now, almost all of your villagers had come over to see what the fuzz was about.

You could see the cub place his paws over his mouth as you heard the sound of soft pats approach you. You felt a pair of small arms wrap around you, as you looked over to your left you saw a certain purple frog giving you a comforting hug, it was Diva. Soon enough more villagers rushed to you and tried to make sure you were okay. But as Barold tried this, he could feel a firm hand place itself on his shoulder, it was Al, who was currently glaring daggers into Barold.

Suddenly, the sound of a door bursting open could be heard through the entire island. Isabelle and Tom were standing before the horrid sight, the yellow dog rushing towards you to help you up and the tanooki marching to the grey cub. After many questions about what had happened, witch everyone except Barold could answer. You could see Toms eyes full with rage and disappointment. Soon he’d started yelling at him about how this was his last chance. Barold had done stuff similar to this but never had it gotten to this degree.

“That’s it! You blew it! I’m sorry Barold but you are a danger to this island and everyone on it! We have given you plenary of chances but now you’ve clearly shown us that you can’t live here. I want you gone in two days!” Nook yelled as he could feel the bear growing smaller and smaller under his rage full gaze. Isabelle had helped you off the ground and were escorting you to get you bandaged up. Sooner or later, everyone started going their separate ways. All but one.

Barold had fallen to his knees, biting his face in his paws. No...no no no NO! He didn’t want to move! He couldn’t move! He never meant for this to happen! During these past months he’d feel more genuine happiness than ever before! He couldn’t lose that! He couldn’t lose YOU! YOU WERE GONNA BE WITH HIM! WEATHER YOU WANT IT OR NOT!

Late at night, when everyone was asleep, you were quietly sitting by the beach. Stroking your fingers gently against the sand, drawing small figures. You couldn’t help but feel guilty, even if this wasn’t your fault you still felt like you could have done more to have prevented this. But ultimately, you knew this was for the better. Sadly for you, you were to absorbed in your own thoughts to hear the soft footsteps approaching you.

Out of nowhere, you could feel a rag being pressed against your mouth and nose, panicked you stared hyperventilating but that caused you to immediately faint. But fear not, you were gently caught by none other than the bear you found, wandering around a beach all those months ago. If he had come up with a dastardly plan to get away with you in his grasp. He made sure to note to apologies to you later, but that didn’t matter right now. As he carried you home, trying to avoid anyone who might still be up, he could t help but feel guilty. He was kidnapping you for Petes sake! But he tried to convince himself that the others didn’t deserve to have you.

The next day Barold could be seem moving all of his bags and boxes towards the airport, he didn’t bother to say goodbye to anyone, just dragging a big suitcase behind him, the bag was bigger than he was. But hey, who knows.

Maybe he just had a lot of baggage?

#yandere animal crossing #yandere acnh #yandere #acnh #yadere x reader #stinky ugly bear man #but i love him😌 #yandere barold #acnh barold

[pastthebutterflies]

Amantes Maledic

Fundamentally, human dances and witches’ balls sound the same: fine clothes, plentiful food, corny decorations, endless dancing. Amity has to admit, without the added risk of being cursed hanging over your shoulder, human dances almost sound like more fun. Almost. Or, Luz and Amity go to a dance and gay panic ensues. 

Read here or at https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159519 

The Hexside Enchanter’s Ball is the quadrennial highlight of any learning witch’s life.

Amity hadn’t been, not yet, no one at Hexside had, but her parents insisted it would be the best night of her young life.

The ball, fun fact, had been where her parents had met for the first time. Both being adept spell-casters with a twin knack for illusions, it was a wonder to half the student body that they hadn’t met stumbled upon each other sooner.

But her father, having been the night’s first victim of what was known as the Lovers’ Curse, had slipped off to the hall to sulk alone only to find her mother in a similar state soon after. The rest, as they say, is history.

(“The curse may be meant to break hearts,” her mother says one day, staring lovingly at her ring. “But I think it mended mine.”)

According to Luz, who, since joining Hexside’s ranks, had taken to skipping up beside her in the halls between classes, human schools held their own Enchanters balls- called dances , there- once, sometimes twice a semester. How they don’t lose their charm happening so often, Amity isn’t sure. A ball is a special night, meant for moments like her parents’, happening every few months, to her, they lose all meaning.

(“Then there’s this one called the Sadie Hawkins Dance, where the girls ask the guys out. I was never really sure where that left me, though…” Luz tells her one day as they walk to class. She’s not quite sure what a Sadie Hawkins is, but Luz seems into it so she tries to like it too.)

Fundamentally though, human dances and witches’ balls sound the same: fine clothes, plentiful food, corny decorations, endless dancing. Amity has to admit, without the added risk of being cursed hanging over your shoulder, human dances almost sound like more fun.

Almost.

So, a few days later, when Luz asks her to go as her date, Amity is a little less than surprised. Their relationship as it stands is rocky at times, but overall hardening into something stable, familiar.

They’ve kissed, once, in the heat of the moment after a particularly grueling rescue from the Warden’s prison on the edge of town. Neither of them had mentioned the moment and since then, Amity was nearly tempted to believe Luz had forgotten all about it.

That is, until a bundle of flowers fall out of her locker as she’s leaving.

The flowers, yellow human world orchids if she isn’t mistaken (she isn’t), are tied together using a loose ribbon with a small card attached. In Luz’s careful handwriting she reads:

Turn around? <3

When she does so, Luz is already waiting, having somehow snuck up behind her. She’s rocking on her heels, wearing a crooked grin with her fingers tangled together in front of her.

“I know the whole ‘being seen in public with me’ bit isn’t really your thing and that our relationship is kind of-” Luz makes a scattered up and down gesture with her hand that actually sums them up rather well, “but do you want to go? With me? To the dance, I mean.”

The entire speech comes out in a single, rushed breath that leaves Luz looking as if she had just run a mile. With every syllable, her eyes had gotten wider, until, by the end, there are two wide saucers where her eyes should be.

“Luz, I-”

Don’t trust her, she thinks. Luz had helped the twins that night in the library, this was all just another trick. But she stopped them, too. Not to mention helped her stop Otabin the Bookmaker from sealing them both inside his story with him forever. But the abomination trick- which she had apologized for.

Saying no would be so much easier, she thinks, then, unfortunately, remembers that she still has the fifth Azura book in her bag. Yet another thing Luz hadn't had to do.

Amity looks to Luz, to the flowers, back to Luz. Her heart stutters.

“I’d love to.”

The week leading up to the Enchanter’s Ball, Amity’s parents dart around in a flurry of excited preparation.

She and her siblings are swept up into the commotion until they’re tried every piece of formal wear in the Boiling Isles. Her mother drags Amity and Emira all across town until they eventually agree on something suitable, while their father takes Elric to get his suit fitted.

Overall, it’s a busy week filled with nothing she finds all that important, but goes along with for her parents’ sake. The dress she eventually settles on is a mix of purple and black that stretches to her knees- a bit simple for her family’s usual taste, but it’s comfortable, she likes it, and she thinks Luz will too, so it stays.

She isn’t sure what Luz will show up in. Considering she had jumped here from the human world with only her backpack, Amity isn’t sure where she’s planning to find clothes without any money, short of raiding Eda’s closet. With how secretive Luz had been about the whole night, Amity doubts she’ll know much of anything until they get there. But, knowing Luz, she had a feeling things will work out exactly as they’re meant to.

Well, that, or the entire evening will descend into chaos like they are prone to when Luz is around. She figures there’s a fifty-fifty shot.

“You know, break her heart and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The morning before the ball, Willow chases her down on their way to school. It only takes her a moment to realize that they are stopped in the same clearing as the day Willow’s ‘abomination’ had stolen her spotlight in class...so she had tried to have Luz dissected. Good times.

The glare Willow wears as she plants herself in front of Amity is more threatening than she ever remembers her being in all the years they had known each other. She’s almost proud, Luz must be rubbing off on her.

Still indignation pokes at Amity and pushes her to snap back, “Or you’ll what? Poke me with one of your thorns?”

Willow crosses her arms in a way that’s so Willow, that it causes a twinge of regret to rise up in her chest. “I’m not the one you should be worried about, or did you forget that Luz lives with a demon king and the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles?”

Amity scoffs, “please, King? He’s harmless.”

“But Eda isn’t.”

She’s heard the stories from Lilith countless times. Eda was- and still is- a menace when she wants to be. She won’t admit it, not to Willow, but Eda is the last person she wants to get on the wrong side of.

“I won’t hurt her,” she promises, and means it.

“I know.”

That night, her parents think she is going alone and, for once, the twins don’t try to correct them. Her parents wouldn’t care that Amity is going with a girl, people don’t care about that nearly as much as they seem to in the human world- it was more the human aspect that concerned her. Humans weren’t common in their world and neither Amity nor the twins were exactly keen on explaining that she was kind-of-sort-of dating the first one to visit in over a decade.

Instead, when it came time, the three of them slipped out the front door and went their separate ways. Elric and Emira vanished as soon as the house was out of sight. They claimed that, with every adult worth worrying about being distracted, the opportunity in front of them was too good to waste.

She hadn’t asked for details.

When she arrives, Luz is nowhere in sight. Running late, most likely.

As her classmates begin to file into the building, she waits outside, pressed against the wall. The wind ruffles her skirt as she scans the crowd, but there’s no sign of Luz, not even as Gus and Willow head in, who seem to be searching as well.

Inside, the music drifts out to shake the walls of Hexside so hard she can feel the vibrations underfoot as she waits. Party of a lifetime, now she just needed to enjoy it.

Eventually, the crowd thins out and leaves Amity alone. If she heads in now, chances are that she will find Luz waiting, ready to bounce off the walls all evening and wondering what took her so long. With all the students flooding by, she had probably missed her heading in. Nothing to worry about.

Knowing this, Amity stays outside a moment longer, scanning the empty treeline, before she kicks off the wall and finally heads in.

Down the road, just out of sight, Luz swallows around the lump in her throat, then pushes ahead.

The Lovers’ Curse, otherwise known as “Amantes Maledic,” has been with the Hexside Enchanter’s Ball for as long as time can tell.

First cast against Delaney Wail and her date, Frederick Morrister, by an angry ex-lover at Hexside’s first ever Enchanter’s Ball, the two were doomed to be bitterly torn apart by night’s end. However, inexperienced but powerful, the spell’s caster not only cursed Wail and her date, but the entire ball.

On that fateful night, every couple in attendance is said to have turned on one another in the span of an hour and, in the process, nearly tore the school apart from the inside out. Though the spell has since lost its potency, legend says that each year, the curse will still take a victim.

-Pg. 198 of “A Cohesive History of the Enchanter’s Ball”

Luz still hadn’t shown.

Amity has checked every place she can think of, then checked them again. But the dance floor is no less wild than she would expect one filled with wild, sugar-crazed witches to be, the buffet is still in stock, meaning Luz, with King most likely sneaking in behind her, hadn’t yet been raided, and Gus and Willow only look at her pitifully when she asks if they knew what was going on. She’s not here.

Luz isn’t here, but Amity is, alone.

There’s no one else around she can sit with, either. Boscha and her other friends aren’t exactly her biggest fans at the moment and sitting with Willow and Gus by herself is asking for an awkward time. If Elric and Emira were here, she could hide with them, but they’re off doing who knows where doing who knows what and Amity isn’t sure she wants to get involved in another one of their schemes anyway.

After a final loop around the room, Amity all but throws her hands up, and Willow was worried about her being the issue.  

Stupid Luz, stupid dance, stupid- what were you thinking?

Deep down, she should have known this was going to go downhill. Every second with Luz was another way to crash and burn, the girl was a walking disaster magnet. For all Amity knew, she was off helping the twins on their latest plot- or this was their latest plot. But, she wouldn’t, this time wasn’t like the library, she hadn’t known.

With no one around to see, Amity kicks the wall, only to hop back, hissing, as her toe connects with solid stone.

“Come on,” she cries as she flies off balance.

Her arms start to flail as she tumbles backward, only to suddenly stop just as she expects her head to meet stone when arms wrap around her middle and pull her back up.

Better than bleeding out in an abandoned hallway, she supposes.

As soon as she’s back on her feet, Amity spins around, a thank you on her lips, when-

“Luz?”

Her outfit is a patchwork mishmash of tuxedo, bright pink skirts, and heavy leather boots, in a way that’s handsome and beautiful all at once. She’s thoroughly, one hundred percent Luz. In short?

She looks absolutely stunning.

“Amity!” The sudden sheepish expression she wears doesn’t match the rest of her at all, it’s unnerving.

“Where have you been?” She demands.

“I-”

“Did you realize I’ve been waiting all night and you couldn’t be bothered to show? Did Eda need you for some crazy spell? Is that what’s important to you?”

Hurt flashes across Luz’s face and, for a split second she thinks good, then remembers what Willow said and knows she has to prove her wrong, if only for Luz’s sake.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says. “That wasn’t fair, whatever happened probably wasn’t your fault. You just really worried me.”

“No,” Luz says, arms wrapped tightly around her torso. “I should have told you sooner. About tonight. I got scared, I almost didn’t come.”

Oh, oh .

She really should have seen that one coming. Of course Amity couldn’t keep this, she had never had it to begin with.

“You didn’t want to be here, not with me.” She backs up, ignores the way her voice breaks. “Gus and Willow are inside, you should go find them.”

She pushes past Luz to find the exit, a bathroom, somewhere that isn’t here. She knew it, knew it.

“I was scared of the curse,” Luz shouts behind her.

At that, Amity pauses, frowns. Turns around again.

“The what?”

“The curse ,” she repeats. “The Lovers’ Curse, the one everyone keeps talking about.”

Amity blinks and presses one hand to her temple.

“You...Thought we were going to be cursed?”

Face red, Luz nods.

A part of Amity wants to laugh, another part wants to kiss Luz on the spot and never let her go, while a third, much smaller part still wants to walk away while she has the chance.

Thankfully, logic steps in and tells her to take Luz by the shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She shrugs, “look, I still don’t get all the ins and outs of the Boiling Isles. I was scared it might all be some dumb joke or just another thing I didn’t understand. I wanted you to think I knew what I was doing for once.”

There’s a good chance Amity is blushing, hard, right now. In the darkness of the hall, she hopes Luz can’t tell.

“I don’t think anyone has ever cared that much before,” her hands slide down to intertwine with Luz’s. She leans close and kisses her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Never,” she promises. “And if it helps, I heard Ervin Fowler and his date stormed out about an hour ago.”

“Those two? They seemed so solid…”

“It’s a curse, what did you expect? If it helps, they’ll both bounce back by tomorrow. Their relationship may be a mess, but the physical effects of the curse don’t last long outside Hexside.”

“So, they’ll be okay?”

“As okay as you can be after a bad break-up.”

They’re both less tense, now, she can feel it in the way Luz’s shoulders drop, not wound up, like she was waiting for the final blow. An easy grin has taken over her face, as well, the one that, on a good day, would mean she was up to something.

“Hey,” Amity says after a moment. “Do you wanna dance?”

“More than anything.”

As they slip into the crowd, the music quickly rises up around them, filling up the space between them until there’s nothing left but her, Luz, and the beat.

As the world slips away, Amity leans in and holds on tight.

#the owl house #lumity #based off the season 1b promo #listen I know they're calling it Grom #but I literally started writing this right after I saw the photo #so I'm sticking with my name #oops #lydsfics #my writing

[sparrowmoth]

The Little Mermaid: Malvie AU

@annoyingmeviestan‘s Little Mermaid Malvie remix art (click here to admire) has got me thinking about how fun and a little bit angsty that AU would be, so I just spontaneously thought up a huge chunk of heavily Disney-inspired plot that I’m not going to actually write, BUT I definitely want to share anyways because this can’t just stay in my brain.

CONSIDER:

Instead of Ursula as the antagonist, you have Evie making a deal with Maleficent because she’s in love with her daughter, which Maleficent is more than happy to take advantage of considering...

The canon rivalry between Grimhilde and Maleficent! What if Grimhilde wasn’t always a mermaid, but Maleficent banished her to the sea before Evie was born? Grimhilde either shape-changed herself or Maleficent cursed her, depending on what you imagine as the backstory here.

This would make Evie’s father possibly Atlantean. Triton?? Up to you!

Evie is the only heir to Grimhilde’s throne beneath the sea, so perhaps Maleficent agrees to make a deal with her as another blow to Grimhilde, who is very possessive of Evie.

Grimhilde’s rage over finding out that Evie not only saved her arch-rival’s daughter’s life but fell in love with her (of all people) results in her locking Evie up in their castle beneath the sea.

Fun twist: Mal gets worried when Evie doesn’t show up for a planned date (and there’s no sign of her for a few days), so she calls on her old friend Uma, who’s learning to be a sea witch like her mother, Ursula.

Uma’s magic isn’t as advanced as Ursula’s, but they strike a bargain for Mal to be able to temporarily shift into a mermaid and go look for Evie.

What Mal doesn’t know is that Evie’s escaped Grimhilde (with a little help from her marine friends) about the same time.

Mal also doesn’t know that Evie’s already gotten what she needs from Maleficent to get her a pair of legs; she had wanted to talk to Mal about it first (at the date they’d planned), but lost that chance when Grimhilde got word through her spies of who Evie had been sneaking off to visit...

At this point, Evie’s decided she can’t waste anymore time, because Grimhilde’s sworn to marry her off to some Atlantean prince and never let her see so much as a glimpse of the coast ever again.

Evie heads to the beach under cover of night to perform the spell that Maleficent told her would give her legs. It does. But... Maleficent, as tricky as any fae, failed to mention that magically getting legs wouldn’t magically make Evie know how to use them. So, she can’t walk. And she’s stuck on a beach who-knows-where.

MEANWHILE, Mal’s gotten herself captured by Atlanteans and delivered to Grimhilde, whose rage at finding her own daughter has escaped is a little soothed by the fact that she now has Maleficent’s daughter as a hostage. A very good bargaining chip, indeed...

Mal’s too proud (and maybe a tiny bit scared) to admit to her enemy that her time is short, though. Uma’s spell is temporary, remember? If Mal stays under the sea too long... she’ll turn back into a human. She’ll need air. And as far as she knows, Grimhilde has no reason to keep her alive.

I’m going to be extremely evil and leave this on a cliffhanger for now because I need to work on some other stuff, but if you guys want some more bulletpoints to finish off the story, let me know and I’ll add more to it later. ;)

#annoyingmeviestan #descendants #malvie #mal bertha #evie grimhilde #the little mermaid #disney descendants #descendants au #little mermaid au #descendants fandom #I had WAY too much fun thinking about this jkdjakglas #I'm yelling at MYSELF about that cliffhanger #it's so evil I love it #*rubs little gay hands together* #jkjkljdkalg #this was going to just be like #a few headcanons #but then I got IDEAS

[theparanormalperiodical]

The Conjuring (2013) True Story, And The 13 American Haunted Houses You Need To Know About

It’s been a busy week for haunted houses. And no, I’m not just talking about the popular Halloween activity.

Our favourite festivities often occur in mocked up haunted houses filled with sheets draped in a ghostly shape, ‘actors’ making their afterlife debut as various frightful creatures, and a fistful of sweets at the end of the night.

But it seems America’s obsession with the haunted house is about to take a much more cinematic - and realistic - turn.

Only recently did Ghost Hunting pro, Zak Bagans, continue his documented foray into the paranormal by filming a Halloween special in possibly one of the most haunted houses in the world:

The Perron Family Farmhouse in Rhode Island.

But it wasn’t necessarily the paranormal activity he claimed to have captured that intrigues me - it is what happened after filming ceased.

Following the visit, he claimed he faced 3 weeks of physical illness:

“It took everything out of me. My body isn't functioning right...haunted by something I believe is very ancient.”

The activity he captured features as the first time cameras have been permitted access to the 300 year old property in 15 years - but the haunting of the Perron family has by no means been ignored by popular culture.

One of the most striking horror films in recent years - The Conjuring - is based on the real life investigation conducted by paranormal dream-team Ed and Lorraine Warren.

So, when Zak Bagans followed in their footsteps, it catapulted the haunting back to our TV screens and presented more recent insight into this ever-still-haunted-house.

The activity captured by Bagans included a black mass blocking a window of the house, among other events that will be included in the documentary, of course.

The haunted house obsession don’t stop here, I’m afraid. 

The creative minds behind the original film have only in recent days laid claim to a similarly infamous haunted house - the Lalaurie Mansion. They seek to create a similar cinematic feature to that presented in  The Conjuring.

But it got me thinking: what was the true story behind The Conjuring?

And are there any other haunted houses in America that feature such #iconic hauntings? 

So, in today’s edition of The Paranormal Periodical, I’m going to recap The Conjuring, compare the film to the actual real-life investigation, and take a good ol’ American road trip to the other haunted houses on offer - including the Lalaurie Mansion.

Let’s get spooky!

Here’s A Recap Of The Conjuring

I’m not going to waste my time and recite the complete plot of The Conjuring universe. That will take two days, a bottle of gin, and a therapy session.

Regardless, the original film ties together many of the strands of the total universe, providing the cinematic circle that the horror genre is so famed for.

Basics, a famalam move into a farmhouse. And everything is hunky-dory - until the first morning. 

All the clocks have stopped at 3am, and the dog dies. 

No, it’s not a good start. 

Oh, and the dad finds a bordered up cellar which in all his wisdom he decides to open up again because it’s not like this is a horror film, right?

*Winks at camera*

And the creepy weird child finds an even creepier weird doll by the creepy weird tree which scars the cover photo used for the film!

Couple nights later, and supernatural shizz ensues, but this time spirits are telling the children that they want to kill their family, trapping the mother in the cellar, and physically attacking the living residents.

Following this they decide to be actual intelligent horror movie characters (OMG), and source help from renowned demonologists Ed and Lorraine Warren.

The demonologists investigate, and come to the simple conclusion that their house will need an exorcism.

But first, they need the Catholic Church to give them the thumbs up.

Having slipped into the Vatican’s DMs, they start reading up on the house, only to discover a twisted tale that torments the Perron family.

They trace the house to a woman named Bathsheba Sherman, a satanist/witch/general-demony-thing who is believed to be related to a witch in Salem. Having sacrificed her week old baby to the devil, she hung herself on the tree that figures so prominently in the film. 

Oh, and she died at 3am.

But briefly before hanging herself, she cursed all those who would take her land. That explains the high number of murders, suicides and drownings scattered across the land she once owned. 

To gather evidence prior to the exorcism, the Warrens and crew in tow (along with a sarky police officer) set up a variety of bells, cameras and other ways to capture evidence of the paranormal.

But when most of the famalam are out for ice cream, Carolyn ends up being fully possessed after Bathsheba vomits blood into her mouth.

I mean, I’d prefer the ice cream.

Paranormal things ensue featuring the past inhabitants who were possessed by Bathsheba.

Carolyn then takes two kids back to the house while in full-possessed-mode, and attempts to kill them in the cellar. She is stopped just in the nick of time (wow, how convenient) and the Warrens then decide that ‘yeah let’s not wait for a priest, let’s exorcise this biatch right meow’.

They then use a combination of sentimental reflection and the extremity of an exorcism to lift Bathsheba’s curse.

There we have it - the cinematic version of events!

Question is: how close is this to the actual events that took place?

The answer: uncomfortably close.

The Real Story Of The Perron Family Farmhouse

It was early January 1971 when the Perron family moved into their 14 room crib. And their new year was about to come in with a bang. 

Carolyn, the mother, and Roger, the father, noticed only small things at first. 

Maybe the broom would go missing when she wanted to sweep the kitchen floor, or maybe it would move from place to place? Or perhaps something would sound as if it was scraping against the kettle when nothing was there? And sometimes small piles of dirt would be found on the kitchen floor after it was clean...

Yet aside from the domestic-demonic issues, their five daughters witnessed activity that was a smidge more supernatural. 

Spirits would be seen around the house, and often were harmless. 

However, some were not so forgiving. 

Angry spirits were a feature of this farmhouse.

This activity mirrors the beginning of the film, perhaps on a more minimalist level - but a minor difference does strike with the following event:

It’s Carolyn that researches the history of the house, not the Warrens. 

But what she discovered sticks close to the basis of the film.

She discovered that the house had been in the same family for no less than 8 generations. Many of them has died in a frightful number of horrible circumstances, from drowning, to murders, to the occasional suicide. 

And a woman named Bathsheba features in the history of the actual house.

Bathsheba Sherman lived on the Perron’s property all the way back in the mid 19th century, and she was rumoured to be a satanist.

Among these rumours was one that claimed she was involved in the death of a neighbour’s child; there was even evidence of this!

From here the Perrons determined that the violent spirit was that of Bathsheba.

“Whoever the spirit was, she perceived herself to be mistress of the house and she resented the competition my mother posed for that position.” - Andrea Perron

It’s here that the close resemblance with the film intensifies.

Yay. 

The film makes out that Bathsheba is attacking/attempting to possess the mother, Carolyn, in order to kill her children as a sacrifice for the devil.

It is then revealed in the film that Bathsheba possessed all mothers that lived at the property to mirror these actions.

Could this have been the real Bathsheba’s aim?

Other reflections of the true story include the nature of the hauntings. 

Take the basement - the heating which was based in the basement would mysteriously fail, causing Roger to face the Perron’s fear of the basement, and venture down their to fix it.

And when Roger would come up from the basement, a rotting-smell would follow him up the stairs.

The same smells would move around the house. And their beds? They would rise up of the floor.

I mean, it’s just 0 to 100, isn’t it?

The final event that directly appears in the film is the possession of Carolyn Perron.

The Perrons stayed shacked up in this house for no less than 10 - yes, 10 - years, and the Warrens made many a visit. One of which involved a seance.

During the seance, Carolyn became possessed, speaking in tongues and rising up from the ground in her chair.

This features as a prominent scene in the film, but here ends the ‘based on a true story tagline’.

The Warrens did not perform an exorcism in the actual story, but claimed it must be performed by Catholic priests.

‘Based on a true story’ is a trope mocked by horror fans and horror haters alike, but this film clearly takes direct inspiration from the Warrens and their investigation.

And that is fucking terrifying. 

Are The Any Other Haunted Houses In America?

Yep. So many.

There’s no doubt that the haunted house is one of the most common tropes featured in horror films. And as The Conjuring is the ultimate flick for this topic, it’s likely that it took inspiration from the other landmarks pinned into the Land of The Free.

Let’s take a guided tour, then!

We start with a tale only too similar to the Perron family farmhouse.

No seriously, it’s terrible.

The Bell Witch Farm, nestled in humble Tennessee bears an uncomfortable resemblance to the story of Bathsheba: a woman named Kate Batts in the early 19th century believed that a neighbour had cheated her out of land. 

And so, lying on her deathbed, she swore she would haunt him forever!

She kept her promise. 

The Bell family often noted physical attacks from supernatural beings, heard chains being dragged across the floor and noises in their walls

They even saw strange looking animals on their farm, such as a dog with a rabbit’s head. This is a satanic image which is often played upon in horror films.

We continue our road trip with a haunted house that too has featured on the screen, but this time, it’s the TV - it’s the LaLaurie House in New Orleans. 

Sounds familiar? You’ve probably seen it on American Horror Story.

The story goes that this house belonged to Madame Delphine LaLaurie, a notorious serial killer who took pleasure in torturing and killing the slaves she kept from 1831 to 1834. 

It was only when a fire struck the house in 1834 that the torture chamber was revealed. 

When the authorities arrived, the slaves were found in all manner of ghastly positions:

One slave had her limbs broken in a manner that made her look like a crab.

Another had a hole drilled in their head and a wooden spoon sticking out of it (it is believed the brains were being stirred at the pleasure of the Madame of the house).

And another had their skin peeled off their back, revealing the bones and muscles underneath.

There are many more tales of the circumstances the slaves were found in, but I think we’ve heard enough...

When the reality behind the house was revealed, a mob of local citizens destroyed the residence, leaving only the walls intact.

The house has been closed off to the public since 1932, but in 2007 none other than the meme of Hollywood himself purchased it: Nicholas Cage. 

Yet the actor was not the only thing in residence at the LaLaurie mansion. Thanks to its past, shouts, moans, weeping and ghostly faces have been seen and heard coming from the house.

Even negative vibes is a common claim of visitors, as is hearing footsteps across the house.

A seance has been conducted at the house, and the medium immediately claimed that sadness and heavy emotion settled on her. She also claimed that the slaves who were tortured and murdered there had passed on, and no longer resided at the house.

Clearly, this house has a lot going on. And it’s this haunting that is next to be projected onto the silver screen.

That’s right: the creative minds behind The Conjuring have snapped up a new haunted house, and are developing a brand spanking new horror franchise based on the worst kept secret of Louisiana! 

In fact, they are hoping to reside in that mansion to write the screenplay and shoot the film.

Next up, we have the Sallie House.

It is claimed that a botched Appendectomy once occurred here, and the victim - a little girl - is what stirs the supernatural seen in this house.

The paranormal activity was reported by a small family that moved there back in the 1990s, and the intense attacks and torments were believed to come from this little girl named Sallie.

And the supernatural is off the charts.

I’m talking full bodied apparitions, EVPs echoing the voices of men, women and children, flying objects, items moving and turning up somewhere else...

And if that wasn’t enough, scratching at the walls, loud thumps of phantom furniture, and strong smells all feature within the haunting of this house.

Those that have gone onto investigate this has been touched by the paranormal themselves: burns, scratches, cuts - these physical attacks are common here. 

Many a medium have also attempted to understand the house, including Peter James who worked on the Queen Mary, one of the most famous haunted buildings in the world.

It has actually been deduced that the attacks centre on men; it is claimed that the surgery on Sallie was done by a male doctor in 1905, and she never forgave him, attacking all men who enter the house in vengeance. 

We now turn to the Villisca Axe Murder House.

No points for guessing what happened here...

Back in 1912, a family of six was bludgeoned to death with an axe. Each family member had severe wounds to the head, and one of the young daughters was found with a defensive injury on her arm and half-naked, suggesting attempted rape or assault.

The crime to this day has been left unsolved.

And the house? Empty.

No running water, and no electricity - apart from the odd paranormal fanatic who pays a hefty price to spend the night.

After the investigation, it was concluded that the killer waited in the attic with a cigarette until it was the time to strike.

And it was Josiah - the patriarch of the family - who met the worst fate. The attacker used the blade on him, leaving him with wounds in this face so severe that they couldn’t find his eyes!

The rest of the family were bludgeoned with the blunt end of the axe. 

The house was restored in 1994, but it was prior to this that the main paranormal activity has been cited. 

Former tenants have seen a man with an axe at the end of their bed who moves across the room in the dead of the night.

They have even been seen running out of the house screaming by the neighbours!

The tenants have also come back to their house to see their belongings strewn across the floor, and one has even felt a wrist on his hand which forced a knife into his hand.

And they wouldn’t be the first person to be attacked in the house; one paranormal investigator stayed overnight to investigate the goings on, and had stabbed himself by morning. 

EVPs have also been used to document the hauntings, often recording references to the murders themselves. Sounds of an axe swinging, references to the six that were found dead, and even the name ‘Andy’ in reference to the murderer cropped up, informing this as a key haunted house.

We now park up at the House of Death. 

And its name is deserved. 

Brimming with 22 ghosts, this is one of the most infamous buildings in New York. But it still serves a famous bunch of residents.

Mark Twain is one of the most ghosts that once lived here, and still haunts his former residency. Another ghost is confirmed to be that of a young girl who was beaten to death of her father,

Indeed, some ghosts aren’t even human! A grey cat is a regular roamer of the House of Death.

Okay real talk - how would you know if a ghost cat is a ghost cause like lets say its a victorian child this bitch be looking victorian but a cat that just wanders around looking sarky and fucking off for long periods of time just be a cat. 

Next up is the Lizzie Borden House.

The main ghost of this house - Lizzie Borden is still claimed to be laughing about murdering her stepmother and father via axe back in 1892.

Yet Borden is not the only entity still residing in this Massachusetts-based house; her victims still stalk the land, and a maid screaming for help is also often seen.

These sightings are mainly witnessed by the guests who visit the house hoping for a scare. 

We now turn to a house that has been at the centre of its own horror film, just like The Conjuring.

Unfortunately, this film was rather more disappointing. 

The Winchester House belonged to the wife of a man who developed one of the most popular guns of the era. Having lost her husband and young daughter, she consulted a spiritualist who told her the house was haunted by each and every victim of the guns.

Native Americans, Civil War soldiers and the other victims had haunted the house built on the empire of the weapon. 

The spiritualist then recommended Winchester move and use her hefty inheritance ($20 million!) to build a home and appease the spirits.

From 1884 to 1922, a labrinth totalling 160 rooms was built, with corridors often leading guests to nowhere. 

Next up is the Joshua Ward House. Built in historic Salem, this house was built for Sheriff George Corwin.

A major figure in the Salem witch trials, he lived, died and was buried here. So it’s no wonder that he still haunts the location!

But this haunting doesn’t just involve some bloke wandering the grounds and chatting shit about some witch-hunt (sound like American politics, if you’re asking me...).

This bloke is often rumoured to choke visitors to the house - this comes from Corwin being known as ‘the strangler’, a name descended from his favoured execution method for witches.

Even his victims have been spotted!

A dishevelled witch has been seen in a picture taken by a realtor wishing to sell the property on.

And I doubt that picture made a positive impression…

The final feature-film haunted house inspired the flick Haunting in Connecticut.

Great film; spooky house!

In the 1980s, the Snedeker family witnessed some serious haunting in their funeral-home turned family home. 

Across two short years, the parents claimed they were physically assaulted and raped by demonic spirits. And their son was too visited by a spirit - a creepy man with long black hair.

The most recent family claim that their house is spirit-free, but it’s the fame of this house that currently is haunting the residents:

Frequent visits by paranormal fanatics have even caused the police to set up routine patrols to protect the residents.

We continue our road-trip in the Los Feliz Murder Mansion in sunny LA.

In 1959, Dr Harold Perelson murdered his wife with a hammer, attacked his daughter with the same weapon, and then killed himself with a glass of acid. 

The rumours of haunting might be difficult to source, but this hasn’t stopped paranormal fanatics from trooping to the house and having a gander ‘round the grounds. 

Years later, it was purchased by a family for storage purposes, and finally in 2016 it was cleared of the junk dating back to 2016. And most of it hadn’t moved since the murder that still haunts this property!

We follow up this murder with a much more en masse set of deaths.

The Farnsworth House Inn in Gettysburg is a remnant of the history that the USA has been subject to. 

The inn is currently used as a restaurant to celebrate the history of the Civil War with waiters clad in civil war er-costume.

But what really accentuates the authenticity is the real confederate soldiers seen on the grounds! 

The inn was once used as a hospital for the South’s soldiers after the war, and the hundreds of bullet pocks concealed into the walls confirm that it’s not just the injured that will haunt the grounds of this historic site.

Our final haunted house contains a figure who featured prominently within cinematic history: the only and only Molly Brown.

If you’ve been asleep since 1997, then you’ll have missed the Unsinkable Molly Brown in Titanic as played by the one and only Kathy Bates!

And the Unsinkable Molly Brown has her very own haunted house!

She was one of the few survivors of the Titanic, and eventually died in New York in 1932.

Following her death, it is said that she haunted the Victorian home she shared with her husband and mother, and it has now become a museum brimming with the items she once owned throughout her life.

From apparitions in the dinings room, to rearranged furniture; from moving objects to apparitions in the room of her child (who just so happened to die at a young) - this haunted house stays firmly within the past.

We finish our road trip in Virginia, and thank god we do!

(We are running low on gas.)

(I am also terrified.)

 Welcome to the Ferry Plantation house! Fit to burst with 11 spirits, you can encounter the passengers of s ship-wrecked ferry, a former slave, and even a witch!

Grace Sherwood was accused of being a witch back in the 18th century, but her favoured haunting is less paranormal and more puppy-dog.

Yep, you can hear her call for her dog, Tobias!

So: do you fancy visiting any of these haunted houses?

And are you sure you want to rewatch The Conjuring?

Fact is, it’s the reality behind the monsters, demons, haunts, and horrors that makes those tales the films tell quite so terrifying...

#The conjuring #the conjuring 2 #the conjuring 3 #ghost adventures #zak bagans #ed and lorraine warren #the conjuring real story #annabelle #winchester #bell witch #bell witch farm #kathy bates #molly brown #titanic #real ghost stories #true ghost stories #horror movies #the nun #the nun 2 #demonic #bathsheba sherman #perron #perron family #the paranormal #supernatural #paranormal #scary #haunted houses #the conjuring 2 true story #borley rectory

[whydoyouwantmyname]

Imagine Ambrose breaking up with you

- you meet in a literature class at one of the lesser colleges he attended, while his time as a enrolled student was short there, he was so captivated by you that he would find himself at your dorm room door, for a late night visit/sleepover.

- During one of these visits he accidentally let it slip that he was a warlock, and expected you to run, however your response was just, “Praise Satan, I thought I was going to have to preform a mandrake spell on myself.”

“Why on earth would you do that?” He whispered, your face slowly leaning forward as his lips meet yours somewhere in the middle

“Because Ambrose Spellman, you have bewitched my heart.” You whispered into the kiss before laughing, “Cheesey I know.”

“Not to me.” He replied, as he deepened the kiss, desperation filling it as his mouth battled with yours

-Within the month you were both living with one another, in a flat off campus.

-He kept you in the dark about his plans, or his meetings, he would always pass it off as not important, and you trusted him.

-whenever you came home from a hard day of spell casting, or work, he always had a cup of tea ready for you, and a tray of sugar cookies. On the extra stressful days he would have your favorite meal prepared when you arrived.

-The landlord thought you were both the cutest couple around, and would knock your rent down most months..... but that was totally because he thought you both were adorable, and had nothing to do with the spell Ambrose used on him when you first moved in.

-You loved reading his poetry, and would spend countless hours listening to him ramble about his school days.

-The few times you fought it was because you were being outspoken, or took too much pity on the natural occurrences in mortal’s lives

-He secretly loved you for it, and knew that he could never stay mad for long.

-You were reading one of Ambrose’s books on dark rituals while drinking a cup of tea when you heard the phone ring. Thinking it was just a quick call of Ambrose saying he was gonna be late for your supper plans, you took the tea with you to answer.... several seconds later it was smashing to the floor.

-For one week you tried everything in your power to locate Ambrose, for a week none of your companions had any information regarding your lover.... until you received the invite to the emergency meeting being held by the Counsel.

- You were at the emergency meeting called to discuss the fate of Ambrose, eyes red rimmed and tear filled as he sat before the court in the center of the room, chains binding his hands behind him as he wore the same outfit from that morning a week ago, however he was much more filthy then he was when you kissed him farewell that morning.

- You didn’t even hear most of the trail, it was all a lot of low buzzing, until a loud booming voice drew your attention, “Sister [Y/N], I call you before the court, to testify before the accused.”

“No!” Ambrose shouts, “She knows nothing.”

“However she lived in the same corridors as you, shared a bed with you, preformed great acts of lust with you, and fell in love with you, why would I not demand her to be questioned?”

- On the stand you finally got to look at his battered face,unsure which wounds were caused by the blast, and which were caused by the torture he was enduring before this trail. Dirt covered him as his eyes were glassy, tears falling as his own, and slipping down his cheeks as they began to question you, and after hours they declared you naive, and declared to take a vote, after discussing the evidence of his guilt.

-As you left the stand, you made solid eye contact with him, and whispered a protection charm in passing.... this particular one protected the enchanted from death.

- You were the reason he got house arrest, because the court even stated, “Ambrose Spellman, for your crimes against the coven, and refusal to reveal the names of your conspirators, you should be hung from the neck until death, however the Dark Lord has compelled us to spare your life.” You released a breath you were unaware you were holding, praising Satan that they were allowing him to go free.... or so you thought

“Instead the Counsel has deemed it only appropriate that you think of your crimes in isolation, and among our own sisters of Night, Ambrose I bound you to the Spellman Manor, until the Counsel releases you from your punishment. Praise Satan that he has granted you mercy.” 

-When you heard those words it felt as though the wind was knocked from your lungs, but at least he was alive, and both Zelda and Hilda Spellman had no problem allowing you to move into the house which was to become your lover’s prison.

- within two weeks of being placed under house arrest he ended things, however he never gave a reason to why he was ending things. When you left the house you were in tears, and cursing the thought of the man who broke your heart for no reason, unaware he was just as heartbroken

- He told Hilda everything about the breakup, and how he was doing it for your benefit, since you were such a bright witch, and being associated to him any longer would just force you into exile as well.

“She deserves the world Auntie Hilda, she needs someone she can explore with, and grow with. With me she will only be held back, I mean I can’t even help her master the dark arts, and she would have to give up all her freedom just to be with me. Her family and friends have already begun distancing themselves from her, and who knows what else she will lose because of my actions.”

“Ambrose, that is her choice to make, not yours.”

“I know Auntie, but I can’t let her make the right choice.”

-After three weeks of him moping around the house, Zelda announced to Hilda, “I invited [Y/N] to dinner.”

“Does...”

“No, and it will stay that way, just because I don’t want to listen to the same sob story he told you about wasting her time.”

- When you knocked on the door, Zelda shouted from the kitchen, “Ambrose, would you be a dear and get that?”

“Yes Auntie Z.” He sighed, putting down your favorite book, and dragging himself to the door, the dirty house robe hung loosely around his frame, his briefs barely showing as his hand touched the cool knob, “Welcome to the Spellman Mortuary, my aunts...”

-His breath hitched in his throat as he looked at you, your beauty blowing him away as he looked at you standing there, dressed in a crimson dress. He quickly straighten himself and pulled the robe tighter around himself, “[Y/N], w-w-what are you....doing here?”

“Auntie Z invited me over for dinner.” You whispered, “She said that you knew.”

“Of course I didn’t know.” He whisper shouted at you, “If I knew do you really think I would have answered the door in my robe?”

“No, you wouldn’t have answered it at all.” You responded before gracefully pushing past him, and heading towards the kitchen, while he raced to the attic to change.

- both Spellman sisters shared with you how depressed Ambrose had been behaving.

“He is always moping about, looking miserable. He barely eats, his hygiene has gone out the window, poor fellow doesn’t even know what to do.” Hilda stated

“It is really quite pathetic.” Zelda stated as you slowly sipped your tea.

“If He is so heartbroken, then why....”

“Because dear....” Hilda whispered, looking to make sure Ambrose wasn’t about to round the corner, “He is under house arrest, and feels it unfair to stay with you, when he is so restricted.”

- You has never thought of that, and once Hilda said it, it all made sense. Your heart excelerating at the thought that he loved you so much he was willing to sacrifice his own happiness for you, and then you giggled at the thought of the fool.

“You mustn’t tell him though that you know.” Hilda whispered, unaware that he was now standing outside the door in the hall, and seeing how he was not a fool, he pieced together why you were invited, and decided for his Aunties’s sake, he wouldn’t make it obvious.

- during dinner he sat across from you, his eyes fixated on you as you spoke to the Spellman sisters. He thought after this he would never see you again, so he was trying to etch every detail of you into his mind, so that for the remainder of time he wouldn’t forget what being with you felt like.

-Occasionally you would admire him to, a smile would slowly spread as you watched him look away quickly, unaware that he was blushing a deep red as he pretended to be doing anything else. You would quickly go back to looking at Zelda or Hilda though, so that he could continue to stare.

-After dinner the party moved to the parlor, Ambrose settled into one couch, while the sisters claimed the other, leaving you no option then to sit by him. You sunk into the cushion, and out of habit, his arm went behind you on the back of the couch, his hand resting lazily on your shoulder as he inhaled your scent. You were so tempted to lean into him as you used to, but feared he would run off.

- “Well it is getting late, I best be off.” You sighed, regretting the decision to rise as the sisters rushed to hug you, both whispering their farewells as they did, once Hilda released you from her squeeze you turned towards Ambrose, “Would you walk me to the door A?”

“Course.” He replied quickly, following you to the front door. He opened it wide, and leaned against it as you turned on the porch.

-“I’ve missed you Ambrose Spellman.” Your eyes locking as he smiled, his heart breaking a bit as he replied, “I’ve missed you [Y/F/N] [Y/L/N].”

“Listen, I know you made it clear that we were over but I don’t want to be...” He cut you off quickly with a kiss, a long, deep kiss, filled with need and desire.

-Once he pulled away slightly, and rested his forehead on Your he whispered, “I don’t either, but this house arrest...”

“Fuck the house arrest, as long as I have you, I am fine with not going on dates and such, because at the end of the day, it is just you and me against the world Spellman.”

- He kissed you again, this time it was short lived however, the sound of Hilda silently celebrating caused you both to chuckle, as Zelda scolded her sister for ruining the moment

-That night you moved back into the house, and for the first night in three weeks you both slept, after other activities of course. When you woke up, he was peacefully snoring, your limbs tackled in the messed up sheet as you placed your head on his chest, remembering the little details of his face.

-75 years later you were both still together, however you were still just boyfriend and girlfriend, seeing how if you were to marry before he was granted his freedom, you would temporarily lose your familiar and your powers would be restricted such as Ambrose.

-This was mostly do to the fact that the Church of Night would hate for you to help him use magic to do anything that violates his house arrest.

- You and Sabrina were super close, and you were always willing to help her practice magic. She would always ask Ambrose how he ended up with a mate like you

“I am truly blessed by the Dark Lord to have her.” He slowly breathed out, as the thoughts crept back into his mind.

-The day after Conner’s funeral, you were curled up on the bed in the attic, paging through Ambrose’s poetry book, and rolled over, glancing at the ceiling.....

-When Ambrose returned you were seated on the edge of the bed, eyes glassy as he cooed, “My sweet [Y/N], Why do you look as though you have been crying?”

“Whose Luke?” Your voice was a whisper as his eyes grew, “A boy.”

“Why is his number on your ceiling?”

“No idea, love I swear.”

“You have one more chance Ambrose, I am asking you again, what did you do while I was sleeping in Brina’s bed?”

- He lied, “I love him [Y/N].”

“And me?”

“No.”

-You fled the room and in his head, he felt as though he did what had to be done. It felt like some serious déjà vu for him however and as he slowly sunk into the couch, he sighed, hoping that driving you away was for the best.

- “Aunties.” You called as you entered the kitchen, all three Spellmans gathered around the kitchen table as they turned their eyes to you, “Do you remember the depression period that occurred in this house at the beginning of A’s sentence?”

“The depression period?” Sabrina asked as she looked to Zelda and Hilda, who were both looking at you with understandment.

“Ambrose broke up with [Y/N] in the start of his house arrest, believes he is doing her a service by breaking her heart, he tries to do it ever few decades, however he has never really done it.”

“He just did, and I don’t believe a word he just said, so I need your help.” You sighed, taking a seat, “And a very simple cake.”

-It took you all a week to put the plan into action, you were waiting for the perfect moment to attack, and it was thankfully coming on Sunday evening. You however had no idea that before this plan could happen, that Ambrose went on a date with Luke, or that he wasn’t as depressed as he was the first time.

- Ambrose! Supper!” Sabrina called up, and watched as the stars lightly creaked, revealing a sleepy Ambrose, his rode undone, and slippers mismatched as he sluggishly made his way to the kitchen, and shrugged when he noticed Sabrina’s favorite meal, and a simple cake in the center.

“Why are we celebrating today Aunties?” He asked, taking his seat next to the chair you normally occupied.

“Because love, Sabrina has returned from Academy, in one piece.” She smiled, as he took his seat beside the empty chair you always sat in.

“Ahh you got harrowed, how exciting.” Ambrose smiled as the conversation flowed for the remainder of the meal, until Hilda announced, “Time for cake!”

“I hate to say this Aunties, but I am quite tired, and full. I will have to skip the cake tonight.” He excused himself, slowly standing and pushing in his chair, before making his way to the stairs. Once he reached the doorframe he turned, and walked backwards, smiling, as he continued, “But I hope you enjoy Auntie Hilda’s truth cake.”

-Sabrina raced to the greenhouse once he said that, and found you sitting at the table, tears softly hitting the wood of the table, as you realized the plan didn’t work. Her body engulfing you as the sisters stood in the doorway.

-You were in Sabrina’s room after that, she sat on her bed solving the Acheron Configuration, you had fallen into a tearful slumber. You had no idea about anything happening in the house until.....

-“Well isn’t this a treat, you have no nightmares girl?” The demon stated, causing you to turn from your dream table, where you sat with a cocktail, your body covered by nothing but Ambrose’s robe, and a pair of underwear.

“Ah so you are what was trapped in that Rubik cube. You’re the famous Batibat, are you not?”

“Don’t flatter me child! Why won’t my metronome work on you girl?” She snapped, as you turned towards her, and slowly walked towards her, cocktail in hand as you whispered to her face, “Because hag, my worst fear has already come true, and I am living it.”

“Then you shall live it here as well.” She snapped as you laughed turning back to the paper on the table, “Not how this works Bati.”

“I will kill him, again and again in his own dream, unless you tell me the spell to get out of this house.”

“Ask a Spellman, I know not this house’s incantations.” You lied as you turned from your paper, smiling as she screamed in agony and disappeared.

-Sabrina slipped into your dream as well, frowning when she saw you drinking away, “She hasn’t....”

“She can’t, seeing how my worst fear has already come true.” You smiled,before Sabrina faded away, because the alarm went off.

-You woke up after everyone else, they were all sitting in the kitchen, you slowly rounded the corner as Zelda’s head perked up, “Satan’s hoof, I forgot you were still here.”

-Everyone turned to you, your mouth slowly opening to speak, but you were cut short by Ambrose pushing abruptly out of the chair, and crashing his body into yours, arms squeezing tightly around you, like a snake compresses their prey. Your own slowly raising to pat his back as he buried his head into your shoulder, tears hitting your shoulder lightly as you softly whispered comforting words into his ears. Your eyes glued to the three Spellman’s, who all were staring in bewilderment, only Sabrina smiled slightly, cause she knew what Ambrose was dreaming.

-when Ambrose awoke the next morning, he opened his eyes to see the top of your head, your body laid out against his, your hand entangled in his as you slept soundly. A shakey breath left his mouth as you unconsciously snuggled your head against his chest, his hand brushing lightly against your bare back.

- He never told you about his Batibat nightmare, but you already knew what it had to have been about, just like he knew you probably didn’t have one, cause you were the brightest witch he knew, and knew you would have figured it out in five seconds, just like you did when Edward told you of his dreams. He wasn’t sure though what you told Sabrina or Batibat when they visited you though.

-After that he never tried to leave you again, and once Father Blackwood pardoned him in the name of the Dark Lord, he took you on a proper date, to Las Vegas, to one of their novelty courthouses.

#The Chilling Tales of Sabrina imagine #Ambrose Spellman imagine #Ambrose Spellman x Reader #TCTOS Imagine #Sabrina imagine

[michael-langdon-baby]

Salvation

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Original Character

Word Length: 2.6k~

Warnings: Nope~

Chapter 10: Absolution

Masterlist! (Really should put link here I guess...)

It was around 11:30 when Julie March found Chloe Bennett- and it wasn’t like she’d been looking for her.

 In fact, you could even say Julie had been trying to escape the cruel thoughts of her mother no doubt worrying as to were she was, the fact that she’d left Michael standing there with a heartbroken look on his face- she never wanted him to look like that again, and wherever the hell Chloe was. It turned out to be a simple answer.

 Chloe had gone to visit her mother.

 Julie always told people that Chloe’s mother had just ‘left’ them alone, and to a certain extent, she had left them. But unbeknownst to Julie, Jamie Bennett had loved her daughter, her husband, her life… but she hadn’t loved the dark evil magic that had flowed through her veins. The power at her fingertips had poisoned her mind, her soul, and she’d left her family behind.

 The police had found her body- drug overdose of a massive combination- in a hotel room in Memphis. Mr. Bennett had wanted nothing to do with the woman who’d left him, but Chloe had begged to have her body buried here, in Clearview Cemetery. And so she was- Julie had come with Chloe a few times to visit the grave, but they hadn’t in a few years.

 Julie didn’t have anyone buried there, so her being there seemed odd and strange, but it felt like the only place she could be alone. And she had been, until the small echoing sobs echoed through the air. It had made her pause as she walked along the gravestones, taking in the names of all the deceased people. There wasn’t a single one she knew, but she knew those sobs.

“Chloe?” Her voice was a whisper, and the sobs immediately ceased to exist, like almost everything else in the Cemetery tonight. It was nearly impossible to see where they were coming from, as the moon was a clear waxing crescent, the normal glow missing from the night sky and leaving the air a pitch black.

 She uttered the name again, ready to just start stumbling around the grassy area when a body crashed into her side, arms wrapping around her midsection and a face stuffing into her neck, tears wetting her shirt. It was easy to wrap her own arms around the torso that was holding her close- and only one girl in this town wore that perfume.

 The two friends hugged in the cemetery, one sobbing and the other simply holding, not knowing what else to do; only offering the comfort of her arms. The grief of thinking Chloe was dead in a ditch somewhere was gone, but the worry was still there, so Julie leaned back and tried to peek at her friends face.

 “Chloe? What happened to you?” There was no response, so she begged in a broken voice, “Please, Chloe… talk to me. It’s me, Julie. I’m your friend”

 But Chloe blubbered like a scared child, clutching her friend even closer as more tears fell. Julie was a bit lost, what was she supposed to do?

 “I can help her.”

 A new voice echoed the Cemetery and Julie abruptly turned, forcing Chloe behind her as a new woman stood before them. This was a stranger; her long strawberry blonde hair was a stark difference from her black clothes. It reminded her of Madison- the stylish black was a new thing that Julie just didn’t get.

 “I know how to help your friend. But you have to let me Julie-“

 “How do you know my name?” It was a valid question but Julie didn’t know this woman.

 “My name is Cordelia Goode.” Cordelia strode forward, as if walking on clouds. “I know how to help Chloe. My mother did something awful to her and I need to right her wrongs. But you have to let me Julie.”

 Her friend trembled behind her back, and Julie found she couldn’t say yes, even if this was Madison’s Supreme Cordelia. “Prove that we can trust you, then I’ll let you help.”

 And Cordelia smiled, as if this was something she’d dealt with before. Her pale hand rose in into the night air and a smoke like fog started to rise from the ground. “What’s happening?” Cordelia didn’t answer, just continued raising the smoke with a simple smile.

 It surrounded the three women, filling their lungs in a way akin to coal filling a sock, but the only one who fell to her knees was Julie. The smoke was suffocating. She felt Chloe try and hold her up, but failed as Cordelia came closer and closer. It was a shock when her friends legs stood before her, bleary eyes watching as she took a protective stance.

 Both women seemed to ignore Julie in their stand off.

 “What did Fiona do to me?” Chloe’s voice was absent of sniffles or tears, instead full of anger and betrayal, and Cordelia bloomed a frown.

 “My mother tried to make you the next Supreme; she saw a strength in you that would easily overpower the rest of the Coven.” Cordelia took a few steps closer, “She never thought that an untrained witch as yourself would grow as unhinged as you did, and she certainly never thought you would turn your back on your own Coven.”

 “I didn’t!” Chloe screamed so loud the trees shook. “You aren’t my Coven! I don’t even know what a Coven is but what reason did I have to stay?! To watch you all kill each other to become the strongest witch on the planet?” Her shoulders fell in a display of defeat. “I never wanted any of this.”

 Julie could finally breath as the smoke suddenly was gone from her lungs, air clearing up and allowing her to stand at Chloe’s side. It was easier to see Cordelia at a closer distance, and Jessie March had always told her not to judge people by their first appearance, but Julie didn’t trust her.

 “I can help you Chloe.” Her hand was offered, “You can transfer your magic to me. You’ll never have to worry about it again.”

 Now that didn’t seem like a bad trade off; Chloe would never have to worry about magic ever again and… and yeah that was it. But Julie had one question for Cordelia, “How did Fiona die?”

 It was then the first real flicker of emotion crossed Cordelia’s face, “For one Supreme to rise, the current one must fall.” It was a bold statement, and the two teenagers faces dropped, both stepping back from the Supreme.

 It was Chloe who uttered, “Did you kill your mother?”

  “You think you’ve won daughter? You think these petty little girls and your shitty house will ever make you Supreme?”

 Fiona Goode was wrapped around a metal pole, ropes binding her with no chance of escaping. She’d known this was coming; Cordelia was always a goody two shoes, and after the last girl had fled- she’d been stronger than Fiona had imagined, too strong, and handing over her magic had been a mistake she would make again and again- it was no surprise that her daughter had turned the Coven against her.

 “I believe that you are here today to pay for your crimes against this Coven. For cursing the witch Chloe Bennett, and transferring your powers to an unwilling host- is punished in this Coven. I, Cordelia Goode, sentence you to death by fire.”

  “It was her time, even my mother knew that. But what my mother did to you was inexcusable, and I want to right her wrong. I can help you Chloe.” Something was wrong to Julie; this woman had presumably killed her mother to become Queen of the Coven, and wanted to ‘help’ Chloe by taking her magic?

 “Can you train her?” Chloe sharply turned with a furrowed brow. “Instead of just taking it, why can’t you help her control it?”

 Chloe butt in before Cordelia could answer, “Would you do that? Make me like you?” Cordelia’s eyes darted between them, contemplating the situation. It was a lip bite and eye twitch later than Cordelia let her head dip lightly, “If you come to my school, I will help you. We already have a witch who’s promise is as strong as yours.”

 Chloe’s eyes lit up in a bright contagious smile, turning and hugging her friend. It was a sweet moment that was short lived as a gluttural moan of pain left Chloe’s mouth, hands clutching her scalp in pain. Julie turned to Cordelia, “Help her!”

 And with a nod she did, eyes closing and riding the young girls body of Fiona’s nasty curse, eyeing the powerful old magic that flowed through those young veins. Cordelia thought, ‘what a waste’.

 But Chloe felt went it was gone, whatever it was, and stood with clear eyes for the first time in days. She turned to Cordelia, “What exactly did Fiona curse me with?”

 “The curse of hunger that typically drives the host insane, but you were just strong enough Ms. Bennett.” Cordelia held out a hand once more, “I do think you’ll make an excellent addition to my Coven.”

 Chloe went to take her hand, but turned to her friend, “What about you?” and Julie gave a bright smile, “I’m not a witch, and it’s not like I’m going anywhere.” She pondered, “Just think of me as your Coven away from Coven.”

 It was a laugh shared between the two girls that brought forth a massive hug, cheeks pressing against one another, years of friendship shared between them resonating the in the air. There were mutual “I’ll miss you’s” thrown about, before they let go.

 “You’ll be here when I get back?”

 Julie nodded and watched her friend take Cordelia’s hand, disappearing from sight.

  ~~

 “You promise she’ll be okay? I’ve met Madison and I mean I’d rather never see her again.” Cordelia chuckled as she stood on the front steps of the March household- they’d just enjoyed a hearty meal of glazed turkey breast with green beans and a piece of pumpkin pie. Jessie March had calmed down after Cordelia had made up some bogus lie about being a school tutor, but her mother had eaten it up.

 So here they stood, Julie in front of Cordelia, on the front porch.

 “I think she’ll do amazing. There is another student, Mallory, who also shows signs of being stronger than the other girls. They will get along well.” Julie nodded, but shyly asked, “When will she be back?”

 The Supreme thought for a moment, “A year or two. I have a feeling she won’t need my help for long.”

 Julie had to tell her, “What about her dad? She…” It was still too hard to think about, but Cordelia waved it off. “I have fixed the wrongs that have been done.” It wouldn’t exactly be a surprise if witches could bring people back from the dead, and Julie hoped that’s what she meant.

 It was an awkward silence that ate up the time they stood there. “I guess I’ll see you around.” They both nodded and Cordelia held out her hand to be shook, and Julie had no reason not to. It was a jolt of electricity that went up the teenager’s arm and behind her eyes-

 Ave Satanas

 Julie pulled back with wide eyes and Cordelia furrowed her brow in confusion, which in turn furrowed Julie’s own brows; had she not seen that? Felt that? It made her heart up tic in a way, not understanding what it meant. It had been happening more and more, it scared her-

 “Absolute power corrupts absolutely Ms. March. You would do well to remember that.” And then she was gone with the wind, her voice an echo that she hoped would never speak again.

 It felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest when the door finally closed with a small noise, a smile gracing her face. “I’m goin to bed mom. Night!”

 Hell, today had been stressful for her and stretched her arms and legs in a humorous fashion and she stumbled up the stairs. A faint response from her mom was good enough for her as she stomped into her room, letting the door slam shut and flopping on her bed—

 Which was in fact, not as empty as she assumed it would because the large body shape that had been in her bed had let out a yelp at the sudden influx of weight. The body scrambled off the bed and hit the floor with a loud thunk, prompting Julie to run to the wall and turn on the lights.

 It was easy to peek over the side of the bed, and give a single raised eyebrow to the blonde haired boy lying on her floor in a jumble of limbs. It took him a moment to right himself up, and she frowned at his bloodshot eyes. Had he been crying?

 It was a simple walk around the bed and she was crouching at his side, hand on his shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

 He said his answer as if it was as simple as why the sky was blue, “Because you hate me.”

 What!? “What!?”

 She crowded closer to him, “When did I ever say I hate you? Michael, talk to me.” It was no easy feat to turn his face to her, watching those bloodshot blue eyes and messy blonde locks come into full view.

 He sniffled, “You left me and-and…. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I don’t want to be alone, you can’t leave like my grandma- you can’t- you can’t- please don’t-“

 His words halted as her soft lips met with his, his eyes widening as hers were closed, It felt like heaven to kiss her, and any sadness was washed away. She hated that she’d made him feel this way and pulled back to watch his wide eyes, “I’ll never leave you Michael. I love you.”

 His voice cracked, “N-Never?”

 She nodded and they kissed once more, paying no mind as he had them on the bed in seconds, his hands roaming every inch of her body he could. He hadn’t touched her since that night- so long ago- and craved to taste every inch of her again. Julie hadn’t felt his hands in ages- that one dream had seemed so real- but wanted to give him every part of her that he would take.

 His hands were desperate in wanting to feel every inch of her skin against his lips; she was all smooth flesh and warm blood that he wouldn’t mind taking just a taste. That was a thought for a later date as her wanton cries echoed the room.

 She pulled back from his lips with wide eyes, before bursting into a fit of giggles, Michael chuckling along with her. They hoped her mom was asleep.

 They positioned themselves on the bed, facing each other with hands clasped together and noses almost touching. Her voice was small and her eyes roamed his face with curiosity, “what are you Michael?

 There were so many things he could say; I’m the Antichrist, I’m a monster, I’m a murderer, I’m nothing… But Julie made him feel like something. She made him so, so, so happy. And that’s not to say Ms. Mead didn’t make him happy too- she was like the mother he never had, but Julie made him feel like he wasn’t so bad after all.

 “I’m just me.” That was enough of an answer for Julie, eskimo kissing as she drifted off to sleep, smiling at the feel of his safe arms around her. It was hard to think that everything was going to be okay, but with Michael by her side, maybe it could be.

Hope you enjoyed!

#michael langdon #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon smut #michael langdon fluff #cody fern fanfic #cody fern #cody fern smut #cody fern fluff #ahs fanfiction #ahs apocalypse #ahs season 8 #ahs multi chapter #ahs

[antigenius]

All To Cinders (Original Story)

A/n: So uh, I might rewrite parts of this later, as it was rushed for a deadline, but honestly? I’m really proud of this story, so here you go! It’s 6k words long, so buckle in-

WARNING: Murder, Suicidal theme

Her eyes painted chocolate brown, raven hair wild in the wind — her skin, olive and tanned to perfection.

A goddess.

Yet even a girl as herself can doubt every opportunity she could take.

A sigh escaped her rose lips, moonlit eyes glazed down the river with her arms on the bridge's rail. Her floral dress fluttered as she gazed down into her reflection. Anyone else would see a pretty face, yet within her soul, she could hear the darkness preying on her essence. Its claws yearned but never received.

The dagger she held in her hands had small drops of crimson liquid dripping down the hard, silvery blade. Every second or so, a drop of the precious liquid dripped into the river, mixing and tainting it with her sins.

Swallowing back a shaky sigh, she took her gaze away from the river, forcing her legs to move forward. She walked until she arrived at a small tent. It was her home, nothing to be proud of, yet she couldn't have cared less. No one would come to visit anyway. She brushed off her feet and crawled inside, sitting cross-legged on her futon.  Her eyes glanced around for the cellular device he gave her. Pressing a few buttons, she held the item to her ear.

"I did as you asked. Our deal is still up, isn't it?"

She heard a grunt from the other side. "Yes. But I have a new job for you which will increase the pay by double.

Her ears perked at the mention of the opportunity of fortune. "What's the situation?"

"We will deliver a dress to your door. Go to the ball held by the Zhao empire and kill the Prince. Take more than a week, and you lose all your money completely."

"Easy. Leave it to me. Though how am I getting there?"

There was a shuffling of papers. "We'll get you a coach with horses to your... place."

"Alright, consider it done."

She pressed the red button and bit her lip.

All her life, they told her to respect the royal blood, no matter what they did, as they were a divine messenger from God. But as every single thing was taken away from her for their uses, she stopped believing in it. They were nothing but snobs that mistreated everyone else because of their heritage. Her blood boiled with the thought of them. She glanced around for her paints. She still had some to wear to make herself more enchanting, but in the end, she decided not to touch the substance. It would only harm her, and it felt fake on her skin. It was late to wonder about what to wear to seduce the Prince, so she dragged herself into bed. She laid her head down, allowing her worries to run far away to the back of her mind.

***

The sun rose, making a yellow-red sky for a new day. Her eyes opened, lidded from being half awake. With a deep breath, she stretched and licked her lips. 

"What are boys into these days?"

She went through her daily routine, making herself presentable before getting out of her tent. She made her way to the markets where people were shouting out their bargains for any item they sold. Some were haggling, some were being fooled, but she wasn't here to waste time. The female made a beeline to the store in the alleyway. Creeps and peasants littered its floors, wasting away. They begged her for coins and food, but she strutted right past. At the end of the forsaken alleyway was a tiny stall. There, an elderly woman sat on a stool, wrinkly face in a set scowl until she saw the girl come her way. She immediately smiled and welcomed her.

"Zou Shi-Sun. It has been long."

Shi-Sun flicked her eyes up, her irises giving off an icy gaze. "Do you have what I seek?"

The woman looked at her with a chuckle. "When do I not?"

She laid out jewellery and certain liquids on the table. The sapphire and silver sitting on the table amazed the peasants, but daren't touch the wares. The woman was a witch; they were sure of it. They shied away from her as the girl came closer to inspect the objects.

"Pretty aren't they?" The hag crooned.

"What is the price?" she cut her off, picking one up in her delicate fingers.

The elder's smile turned down. "The one you love will die by your hands. I set no price, but that is the curse of all who wear it."

She smirked, almost scoffing. "I'll take it then."

A wave goodbye and the girl was on her way. It was a while before they would come, so she readied herself. When she had finished, her hair was as soft as mink, her scent of vanilla, her lips like pink rose petals.

She was ready.

The clip-clop of hooves made it clear that they had arrived. Peeking out, Shi-Sun saw the footmen with a gown that seemed as if it was stitched from the bark of holy trees.

"Zou Shi-Sun."

"Yes, I know. Give it to me."

They hand over the dark green gown. It was feather-light, the material supple and smooth. It was easy to slip on. As Shi-Sun came out again, copper slippers were sitting there for her feet. She put them on and got into the carriage, placing her hands in her lap. The ride was long and silent. Her senses were on high alert for anything suspicious. She's had shady customers before, but they seemed to do their jobs. They stopped the carriage as they arrived, opening the door for her.

"You must earn the Prince's trust first. Make sure not to reveal yourself. Most importantly, don't get attached."

Her lips turn up gently. "You're talking like this is my first time. I'll be fine."

She walked out onto the marble staircase, not noticing the glances and gazes she caught. Taking a step into the palace grounds, her jaw hung in awe at the glamorous architecture. People of all the higher classes were talking amongst themselves. Their eyes promptly locked on her figure as she came in. Shi-Sun timidly waved as she walked further inside. They seemed not to surmise anything about her, so they continued back to their activities. Shi-Sun breathed a sigh of relief, deciding to get herself a drink while scanning the floor for the prince. She took a glass of punch, savouring its fruity taste on her tongue.

A folk song played, and people got up and began to dance on the ballroom floor, waltzing gracefully. The girl was so fixated to find the Prince that she didn't notice the male beside her until he tapped her shoulder. She gasped in surprise and stepped back on reflex.

"Ah, I'm sorry I scared you," he said. "I wanted to know if you'd like to dance?"

He outstretched his hand towards her with a small inclination of his head towards the floor.

'Perhaps it would be easier to find him on the dance-floor,' Shi-Sun thought to herself.

A smile made its way to her lips as she nodded, placing her hand in his. The male pulled her close to his chest, a sharp gasp escaped her lips, but she hid it behind a small cough.  With his hand resting on her back, they stepped in time with the song. Shi-Sun soon forgot her duties and became entranced with the man she was dancing with. His brown eyes were soft, yet lustful. They brimmed with mischief and flirtatious mirth. He had pale skin coupled with his jet-black hair.

"What is your name, delicate maiden?" He asked.

She blinked twice before replying. "Shi-Sun"

"Ah, beautiful name."

"What about yourself?" She asked.

He hesitated. "Yifu."

She looked down as not to embarrass herself. "Suits you."

He smiled. "What's your business here? Surely a lady like yourself has better things to do?"

The female hums. "I would prefer laying about inside and reading a book by the fire. I'm a woman of simple needs."

Yifu rolled his eyes. "Sure...~"

"What?" Shi-Sun raised an eyebrow at his mocking tone. "Do you not believe me?"

"I mean..." He grinned. "I would expect you to be one to paint your toenails, or put all those deathly chalks on your face."

The female made a distasteful expression. "It feels disgusting to me. I find my face decent enough, so I never put anything on."

Yifu laughed again. “You’re quite different to the other patrons of this ball.”

Shi-Sun smirked to herself. “I’m quite glad about that.”

“Why so?”

Shi-Sun thought carefully about her next sentence, now wishing she hadn’t said that. Yifu answered for her, fortunately enough.

“Actually no, I understand. I too, would rather go bare than become a canvas for toxic powders and paints. I quite value my life, rather than my appearance.”

At that, the girl gave a half-suppressed laugh in response. It had been long since she had a joyous conversation such as this one, and she wanted it to last. Alas, midnight came sooner than she wanted it to. Her ears heard the first strike, and her smile turned to a frown. Yifu had noticed.

"What's wrong?"

She bit her lip. "I... Have to go. I'll come again."

Reluctantly, she ripped herself from the noble’s hold, fast walking to the exit. Yifu looked after her with slight confusion, stalling and just glimpsing at the female's figure, walking out the palace doors and nodding to the guards. He sighed as another girl asked for his hand; he declined and observed the rest of the night.

Shi-Sun's heart was beating fast, irregular and hard. She placed a delicate hand on her chest to calm it down.

What's going on with me?

Shi-Sun queried her body's reactions. It was so unlike herself to feel this way. She heard a small whinny from the horses waiting for her. Shaking her head out of her daze, she walked towards the carriage and got inside, sighing deeply. One of the bandits arched their eyebrow at her.

"What's your problem?" He asked, eyes stern. "Don't tell me you couldn't find the prince?"

Shi-Sun bit the inside of her cheek. "Unfortunately, that was the case. You haven't given me any description of how he looks like."

The bandits realised their error, apologising immediately. "We are sorry. Please do not tell our superior; he will cut off our-"

Shi-Sun stopped them from their babbling. "Don't worry." She smiled. "I understand."

The silent ride back allowed her time to think about the experience she had. Honestly, Shi-Sun hadn't felt this way since she was an adolescent, not used to the thumping in her chest. Maybe her cup was spiked? Perhaps she was hallucinating? It had to be something.

Before she knew it, she was home. A smoky breath left her lips. She'd have to ponder about the male later; sleep was more important now.

***

A new morning, waking up just as she did the day before. However, she found a note posted on the flap of her tent. Shi-Sun ripped it off, bringing it close.

'The Prince has found interest in a woman. Try to get close to her to improve his trust with you.'

Shi-Sun rolled her eyes. The snobby Prince finding another just like him? Of course, she wasn't surprised, but she didn't want to get within five miles radius of this 'girl' he was interested in. She's probably uncultured, spoilt, demanding and had a high-pitched voice. The ravenette sniggered at the mental image in her head.

With a large amount of money, she walked over the bridge towards the marketplace. She didn't go to the old lady this time, but instead, a small child with his hat tipped down on his head. In his mouth, a strand of hay stuck out. He chewed it slowly as the girl came closer.

"Whaddya want this time, lady? You better got some good money for me, 'cause me mistress ain't doing so well." the boy snapped, holding the hay in between his two buck front teeth. Shi-Sun dropped the money on the table. Almost comically, the boy opened his mouth in shock, hay fluttering like a feather to the ground.

"Send her my regards, but first, give me my usual, along with the extra rose scent." She ordered.

He hesitated a moment before hurrying away to make the item. He grabbed the jojoba oil, which sat on another table beside him. The boy then grabbed a few bottles which were filled with essential oils, dripping them in. Finally, he grabbed a bottle of vodka, winking at Shi-Sun, taking a sip, then put the rest into the small, dark bottle. He shook it nicely, handing it to her.

"Our finest yet lady. Thank you for your money!" He said with a grin, hay back in-between his teeth. Shi-Sun smiled, waving him a polite goodbye and made her way home. It was quite late when she came because the bandits had already arrived, waiting with a new gown that was a coloured a leafy green. Bronze slippers sat before her as she after she wore her dress. It felt smooth against her heels. She sprayed the perfume from just now onto her neck, hair and waist. The bandits looked in wonder, never really understanding females and just ushered her into the carriage. The ride was silent again until one of the bandits asked what the perfume was for. Shi-Sun giggled a little bit.

"It's to make me smell nice of course!" She said. "Would you want to dance with a girl that reeks of dead koi?"

The bandit in questioning made an 'o' shape with his mouth, shaking his head. Shi-Sun giggled again. These bandits weren't that bad.

They finally arrived at the palace. She got down, and the bandits held her back by the arm, she turned back to them.

"Our boss told us he doesn't know how the Prince looks like either. No one does. You'll have to find out yourself, unfortunately." They told. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"Alright. This will prove harder than I thought, but I'll still be fine." Her lips curled into a small smile. "Thank you for updating me on the situation."

She held herself high, going into the ballroom and receiving whispers once again. Her eyes went into a squint, scanning for a princely figure with a royal duchess by his side. Instead, she was blocked by someone.

"Hello again, Shi-Sun."

She looked up to see Yifu standing in front of her, looking as grand as ever. His suit was porcelain white with intricate gold patterns etched skilfully onto the silk fabric. A black handkerchief sat in his right pocket, tastefully completing his look.

"Hello, Yifu." The girl greeted him with shifty eyes. As much as Shi-Sun desperately wanted to dance with him, she desperately had to find the Prince too, otherwise...

She'd be dead meat.

"Are you... Looking for someone?" he asked, tilting his head ever so slightly. Shi-Sun gulped but nodded. She had to be vague. She wouldn't want him to think she was yet another girl pining after the Prince.

"I could aid you in your quest."

Gently, he threaded his arm through hers. His warmth flooded the side of Shi-Sun's torso, making her flush with red. Shi-Sun put her head down to hide it.

"So..." Yifu looked to her, brown eyes sparkling like the most precious jewels she had ever seen. "Who are you looking for?"

Shi-Sun's breath stuck in her throat, "Uhm... I'm not sure."

He raised an eyebrow in amusement, "You're... Not sure who you're looking for?"

She nodded. "I was just told that I was supposed to meet a certain noble, but they didn't tell me more than that."

Shi-Sun patted herself on the back mentally for her quick words. Yifu pressed his lips together in thought. While he was silent, Shi-Sun took a moment to glaze over his dazzling features.

His face was... sparkly?

It was covered in glittery dust to enunciate specific characteristics.

Yifu's lips looked soft. Shi-Sun was drawn to them, though she had no idea why. She shook her head as he hummed.

"We could try looking on the floor," he suggested, "maybe you'll know them when you see them."

Shi-Sun rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I think I will."

So once again, she was waltzing in the embrace of Yifu. The gentle folk song played in the background as she scanned for a snobby Prince. Yifu glanced down at her.

"Your perfume smells amazing," he said, taking in a deep breath. "Do you have yours customised too?"

She smiles sheepishly. "You could say that," she mumbled. "I'm just friends with an expert perfumer."

"You must tell me where they are," Yifu demands as he dips her. "I would pay them handsomely for their services."

Shi-Sun didn't reply back. She was too lost in the moment. Her heart was going a million miles an hour, cheeks flushed with colour.

Yifu gazed back, a charming smile danced on his lips.

"Why don't we forget about him tonight?"

He winked slyly as he brought her up again. Shi-Sun had to suppress her merriment.

Alack, midnight's dreaded chimes came floating in her ears, and she had to force herself away.

"Where are you going?" Yifu called, going after her. "The night is young."

Shi-Sun bit her lip.

"Not for us."

With that, makes her way to the exit, bounding like a spring doe into the carriage. The bandits looked at her for an update on her mission. She just kept silent and hung her head. They understood, leaving her be.

Yifu clenched his fist at where the mysterious maiden had been. Something was peculiar about her, she felt...

Dangerous.

Yet, he loved every moment with her. Her wit, her charm, her intellect, it was all so refreshing compared to the other patrons of the party. He sighed deeply as the royal dachshund sidled beside him, sniffing his shoes. Maybe she would come back.

He hoped so anyway.

Shi-Sun was glancing back towards the direction of the palace. Yifu was nothing like the nobles she had known before. He didn't boast about his status, nor did he spit insults towards the servants who were serving them, he actually even thanked them. Shi-Sun shook her head furiously. 'No, no, no, you cannot judge him from the first two nights!' she ordered herself. 'The next night he'll show his true colours. He'll be the same as all of them, just wait.'

But as the bandits collected the dress and left her alone in her home, she could only think good of the noble she had acquainted herself with.

Maybe she had been wrong.

The smell of rain flooded her senses as the pitter-patter from water hitting the tent refuelled a distant memory.

 *****

"Father!" 

The old man had tears in his eyes as he turned back to his daughter. He gives her a sad smile.

"Don't worry, my dearest child," he said, caressing her cheek with his weathered hand. "I will be back for you."

Her tears did naught to stop falling, so he held her tightly, petting her head. 

"塞翁失马，焉知非福, 请记住，我亲爱的。" (Blessings come in disguise, remember that my dear.)

She only cried harder, but it did nothing against the soldiers who took him away. Her father was smiling the whole time as if to try and cease her tears. The coach drove away, leaving the little girl to sob over her last parent. 

"Father..."

*****

A sniffle, then a tear, she took a deep breath to steady herself. Her heavy eyelids shut, letting slumber encase her being.

'I will not let them get to me, father.' 

***

After a dreamless sleep, Shi-Sun awoke; the whole world was spinning around her. Getting up, she stumbled and tripped. Her legs were numb to the nerves that tried to control them. Nevertheless, she managed to make her way out of the tent and to the river to wash herself. The guppies came and nibbled on her toes, showing off their flashy tails as if to woo her. She giggled, splashing the water on her face as memories from last night floated into her mind. She could feel his hands wrapped around her, guiding her around the dance floor like she was indeed royalty. 

Hot tears stung her eyes, making her blink and wipe them away. Why was she crying? It wasn’t like it mattered if he was royalty. The nobles were stuck-up and cruel, they did nothing for the people, only for themselves. 

She shook her head. It wasn’t that. Maybe it was because she hadn’t really had fun for a while? She tried to recall the last time she did something for her own entertainment, but try as she might, nothing came to mind. When was the last time she had a proper conversation, or when did she last give a proper laugh from her belly with a smile? When did she last sit down and read a book? When did she last make a joke? The questions flew through her head like bullets, but she couldn’t remember a thing. The guppies had gone, and she was left alone, like she had always been. 

The rest of the day went by quickly. After finishing her small pity party and walking back to her tent, she began to write down her observations of the party in a small, worn notebook. Neat calligraphy littered the pages as she wrote. She didn’t even notice the clip-clop of hooves coming to pick her up. One of the bandits came into the tent. 

“Shi-Sun?”

She looked up. “Ah, sorry. Give me the dress please.”

The bandit nodded, going out and coming back with a dress coloured red like the hues of sunsets, paired with silver shoes that glittered in the moonlight. She changed into her attire quickly, making herself presentable and trying her best not to waste time. She then joined the bandits in the carriage, sitting down on the plush velvet seats with a weary thump. Her heartbeats were slowly increasing in pace as her unease of seeing Yifu once again came to mind.

It wasn’t like she didn’t want to see him, but she had a job to do, and it would cost her her life if she didn’t come back with results. There was… Also something else, but she couldn’t yet grasp what that feeling was. Before she could ponder more on her feelings, the carriage stopped, the bandits gently escorting her out. 

Shi-Sun sighed. This time, there was no dancing with nobles or hanging by the tables and checking the floor, she had to find the prince, no buts. She made her way up the marble staircase, holding up her long gown so she wouldn’t trip whilst trying her best to get to the highest part of the ballroom. Hopefully she’d manage to spot him from this height, him or his snobby princess. 

After a long period of bumping into dukes and duchesses, almost tripping on the royal daschund that sniffed her feet and nearly being whisked into a conversation about her ‘royal roots’, she finally made it to the spectating booth. She breathed in relief at the lack of people there. They probably wouldn’t talk to her, letting her look for the prince with ease. They had heard her approaching though, turning their head towards her. 

… Gods almighty, her luck was atrocious.  

Clothed in a vermillion red suit with platinum ornamentation imprinted on the chest as white gold cufflinks adorned the edge of his sleeves. A soft red shadow had been brushed gently across both his eyelids, making those who looked at him drawn to his eyes. He smiled so brightly that Shi-Sun feared she’d be blinded if she looked too close. 

“Ah! Shi-Sun!” He grinned wider. “I haven’t been feeling too well as of late, so I decided not to dance. Were you trying to find me?”

His tone was playful on his last sentence, teasing. It was like they had been friends since forever. Shi-Sun smirked. 

“You wished. I’m here to find the noble I was supposed to meet.” 

Yifu’s smiled twitched, but kept it on nonetheless. “Would you like my aid?”

“And waste time with you? I apologise, but I must find him.” She huffed. “It is of utmost importance.”

He laughs. “Alright, I won’t waste your time then, I’ll truly help this time.”

She narrows her eyes at the noble. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

She stays mute for a moment before speaking again. “You better keep it.”

He only nods. 

The two stand side by side, arms on the rails as they watched the highborns waltz the night away. 

“Do you have any information on the noble you’re looking for?” Yifu asks, eyes still watching the dancefloor. Shi-Sun wrung her hands together with a nervous laugh.

“Not at all, I think the only thing I know is that he’s my age.” She rubs the back of her neck. “Even that, I’m not sure of.”

Yifu raised his eyebrows, but only beamed. “Okay… How about Duke Fa?” 

He points towards the duke who was being surrounded by other pompous women. Shi-Sun shook her head.

“He’s more noble than a duke.”

Yifu knits his brows together. “Alright, Lord Huang?” 

He gestures to the Lord who looked like an intimidating wallflower, sitting on the sidelines and drinking punch. She shook her head again. 

“Higher than a lord.”

This made Yifu look away from the floor and stare at Shi-Sun in pure bewilderment. 

“Higher than a lord?” He repeated, confusion clear in his expression. “Do you mean the Prince?”

Shi-Sun slowly sighs. No point in hiding the truth any longer. “I didn’t want to make you think I was another girl pining for the ‘mysterious’ Prince. I care naught for his money or for his status, but I must find him nonetheless.” She pressed her mouth into a hard line. “I’d rather not see him at all, he and his father are ungodly royals who don’t deserve to rule.”

Yifu blinked, but stayed still. “Why do you think so?”

Shi-Sun clenched her fists, knuckles turning white. “Why so? I witnessed the King capture the father of a daughter who had lost so much. They were poor, starving, in debt, and yet the King didn’t think to give them mercy or sympathy, he could only think of his greed. He robs others of the same thing, executes others for petty crimes, and you mean to tell me he is a messenger from god?”

She restrained herself from shouting, but her lungs were tight and she was beginning to choke on her words. She took a deep breath.

“Apologies. I don’t like the King, nor do I like his son, as I’m sure he acts the same.”

Yifu didn’t retort or look at her in disgust; in fact, his expression seemed soft with empathy. 

“I remember hearing about that. I believe the father is still locked up in the dungeon.”

Shi-Sun froze. 

“... What?”

He tilted his head. “The king talks about his prisoners all the time, surely you would have-”

“Which part of the dungeon? Tell me, I haven’t heard!” She said with the speed of a fleeing hare. 

Yifu opens his mouth to speak, but the chimes of midnight interrupt him. Shi-Sun curses internally as she begins to turn and leave. Her hand was pulled back and she came face to face with Yifu. His eyes were full of reluctance, worry and desperation. 

All Shi-Sun could do was murmur an indistinct ‘sorry’ before tearing away from the noble’s grip like the many times she did before. She strides out of the ball without attracting too much attention, getting into the carriage and placing her head into her hands, body shivering in both rage and relief. The bandits asked nothing, letting the silence soothe her nerves. 

As soon as she got home, her restricted tears were let loose. Her elegant form crumbled into a hot, bubbling pot of emotions. She collapsed onto her makeshift bed, continuing to cry into her pillows, at the thought of her father still being alive. She sobbed herself to sleep, energy drained as her dreams were nothing but mush for the next day.

***

The moment she woke up, a fire lit in her eyes. She was determined to save her father. Save him from the torture he had to face for their family’s unfair demise, save him from the royals that looked at him like rubbish and used him for entertainment. She was riled up from the very thought and began working immediately. The plans were dashing through her mind like marlin darting in the salty seas, it was hard to catch them at first, but her brush was fast enough to convey her swift thoughts. The whole page was covered in ink splatters and rushed calligraphy. It looked like chicken scratch when she was done, but she could read it just fine, and that was all she needed.

She began to sew a mask out of some cloth materials she found in her tent, her talent in making crafts since she was young now much appreciated. The ivory mask was decorated in yellow rhinestones she had purchased from the market, and she could only hope that no one would recognise her underneath her eloquent design. 

She was ready.

On cue, the bandits had arrived to pick her up. They saw the mask in her hands, but dared not to question her. Golden shoes and white dress, the mask matched like apple to pie. 

The ride was the same as usual, silent and tense. However, Shi-Sun’s enraged aura was suffocating. The bandits made no complaint, not one sound. When they arrived, all they said was ‘good luck’ before riding off into the night. 

With her head high, jaw taut and lungs rigid despite her rapid, shallow breathing, she strode into the palace, confident and proud. The mask was on her face, covering all her noticeable features and allowing her to get through everyone effortlessly. It was time to find the dungeon. 

It was likely that it was underground, but she wasn’t sure how she’d get there without earning at least some notice from the guards, thus in her hand was a well designed sap. The sap was miniscule and fit well in her palm it made quick work of the seemingly intimidating guards. She made sure they looked like they had simply fallen asleep before letting the click clack of her heels fill the empty stairwell. Corridors twisting left and right, she nearly lost herself in the strangely comforting walls. Luckily, she had gotten a map of the palace through one of her many contacts, so getting lost was unlikely unless she was being careless. 

A few more unconscious guards later, the dungeon doors were in sight. Her heart pounded while she licked her chapped lips in anticipation. Her feverish need to rescue her father was blinding, so much so, she failed to see the guard coming around the corner. 

"Halt!" He bellowed, stopping her in her tracks. Shi-Sun grit her teeth, palms sweaty. She ruined her chance, not only that, but her mission. Readying herself for fight and flight, she clenched the sap and stepped forward.

"Lower your stance, Shang." Came a voice. "She is only lost."

The guard nodded, leaving Shi-Sun alone with the stranger. Overwhelmed with relief, she forgot about them, sighing and concealing her weapon. A hand then clasped her shoulder, causing her jump.

"Pardon me milady," they said, taking their hand away, " I didn't mean to scare you." 

They swiveled her around to face them, only to be befuddled by her mask. They suppressed a snort.

"Did you think it was a masquerade, milady?"

Shi-Sun could not answer, she was too engulfed in her incredulity to comprehend the man that stood before her.

He only grew more attractive each time she saw him, especially now with his sneer of a smile that enunciated the playful sparkle in his eyes. He glanced at her expectantly.

"Cat caught your tongue, milady?"

"Yifu…"

His eyes go wide. "How…! Wait-" his face wrinkles in realisation, "Shi-Sun?"

"I thank you for saving me from the guard, I got lost and-"

Her blabbers were shushed by a finger. 

"Speak slower. I can hardly fathom your quick speech, let alone understand."

Shi-Sun nods, starting again.

"I just, when you told me the father was in here, I felt so horrible. It may sound silly, but I was caught in a rage, I wanted badly to set d- erm, him free." She said, words practically choking her. Yifu hums.

"I see. I understand how you feel."

He intertwined his hand in hers, leading her back to the stairwell and sitting on the steps.

"I don't like what the emperor does with prisoners." He said, eyes becoming glassy. "I think it's inhumane and cruel, yet I can do nothing. It's so exasperating to think that a family is in power because of their history and their roots, taking advantage of others simply out of their own desire."

He simply smiled at Shi-Sun, removing her mask. "I do hope I can change that perspective though. I want to lead the people fairly, justly. I want to be better than my father."

Shi-Sun had been listening in wonder, until he said father.

"W-wait." She stammered. "You're the prince?!"

His smile was sad. "I do hope this doesn't change our friendship."

Shi-Sun trembled. Her heartstrings had been ripped apart and her whole being was wailing with horror and despair, but she swallowed everything down.

"I-"

The chimes came floating through the air like the call of the morning lark. It screeched Shi-Sun's name with its horrid, twinkly tune, but she couldn't move. Yifu heard the chimes too, looking at her.

"It's time for you to leave, isn't it?"

Shi-Sun only nods, unable to respond. Yifu plays with his fingers for a moment before locking their eyes together.

"Please... Stay on the last night."

With that, his lips pressed onto hers, catching her off-guard. Though she knew it was wrong, she kissed back, as passionate as him. Her head was spinning, heart leaping, lungs wheezing, it was a feeling she wanted to hold forever. When he pulled away, she yanked him back again, unable to bear the weight of leaving. Everything felt so desperate, so wild, like they were animals free in the forest.

Oh, how she wished that was the case.

She finally came up for breath, panting like she had ran miles and miles. With a trembling posture and shaky breaths, she fled. Her slippers threatening to slip on the marble, she sprinted to the carriage waiting for her outside. 

"Did you find him?" The bandits asked as she came in. She nods, eyes red but voice strong.

"He shall be dead tomorrow."

They acknowledged her words, riding her home. Upon arrival, she waits for the bandits to be out of earshot before she screams. It was a guttural scream that ripped her throat and tore her larynx to pieces. Her scream made birds fly and animals run. She screamed until her voice was gone, misery bleeding her dry of any want to live. Whimpers pathetic, mewls weak, she passed out on the grass and slept. There was nothing more she could do.

***

She didn’t want to wake up. The smiley sun was virtually mocking her with its promise for a cheerful day. The world ignored her melancholy, it ignored every single teardrop that left her parched eyes. The kiss was burned onto her lips like a brand mark, she could still feel his warmth and his touch. Anyone would have been fine. He could literally be ANYONE else, and she would be rid of this stupid yearning, but NO.

He was the Prince. The Prince she had to kill.

Everything moved too fast. She washed herself in the river, the numbing cold proving to be her next favourite feeling. There was one way to possibly make everything less painful.

So she made her way to the witch in the alleyway.

The bandits came for what would be the last time, giving her the last dress with the last pair of shoes. The yellow gown was light, but it was heavy on her. The glass shoes made her even more fragile than she already was. Ready to snap, ready to break, ready to smash to the ground and leave the world in sparkling shards.

They arrived at the palace. Shi-Sun was about to get off, but the bandit held her back.

“We’re not going to be here for you this time. We are to leave so we don’t get caught. You’ll have to find your own way.” His gruff voice was now meek, unlike his facial features. “There’s a pathway next to the palace that leads to a forest, it would be hard for them to find you in there.”

He patted her shoulder. “You’ve been kind. Take care.”

The others give her glance, a polite farewell, as they rode away. Shi-Sun exhaled, sapphire necklace gleaming. She urged her legs forward, glass shoes clinking on the marble floor. Her trusted weapon was sealed away in her sleeves, set for the mission. 

It took only moments to find Yifu, and in that instant, her stomach wanted to hurl all its contents on the floor. They say if you’re patient in one moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days of sorrow. Escape. The very word made her crave for the simplicity and happiness she wasn’t going to get.

His silhouette made its way to her own, lips curled and worry-bitten, probably from their last meeting.

“I’m glad you came again.” He took her hand in his. “Are you going to stay this time?”

Regardless of her whirling feelings, she quipped back. “Depends, how much time is there to waste?”

Yifu chuckles, his laughs bubbly like a glass of champagne. Just like dandelions in the wind, they swayed on the dancefloor, shoes tapping in time with the tranquil music. Their feet stepped onto the fluffy clouds beneath them, aura as light as the water that fell. 

Time flies and the chimes were nothing but a broken record at this point. The two look at each other. Shi-Sun wasn’t ready. She wasn’t braced. She wanted not to say goodbye to a man who finally understood her pain and sorrow, yet it was inevitable. 

He leaned down, cupping her cheek in his smooth palm, and the stars collided. The kiss was like drinking salted water, you drink and your thirst increases. Her eyes burned, but she readied the dagger.

“DO IT!” Came a yell.

The kiss was broken and Shi-Sun felt her chest being punched. Her first reflex was to stab back, but immediately she regretted her decision. Screams as blood smeared on both of their hands. 

“I’m… Sorry.”

Yifu gurgles, blood coming to his mouth. Shi-Sun’s vision was blurring, but she could see his remorse crystal clear. She heard footsteps coming as she slumped to the floor. She lifted her head up to only cry more.

“Fa..ther…?” She croaked.

“Look at you. Still so pathetic and weak.” The elder spat on her dying form with disgust. “Luckily I got rid of you before they knew you were that fool’s daughter. Now I get to rule.”

His voice… It was familiar, but it was so hard to think with the wound feeling like needles blossoming in her chest. 

“I sent you to kill him, but little did you know I had hired him to kill you! Now you die and I am the emperor, as I had planned to be.” He then barked. “Guards! Clean up this putrid mess.”

With everything fading, her heart broken and the world turning the wrong way, Shi-Sun held her beloved’s hand like it was her lifeline. 

Her effort all to cinders.

#all to cinders #original work #original story #proud #cinderella inspired #assassins

[emjenenla]

Then let's try our very best to fake it [A Throne of Glass Fanfic]

The first night they had spent together after the defeat of Erawan all they had done was collapse onto Dorian’s narrow cot in the tiny room his was sharing with Fenrys, clutch at each other and sob. Or Dorian and Manon post Kingdom of Ash.

Dorian jerked awake in the darkness of his newly rebuilt tower, gasping for breath. The screams of his own guards echoed through his head along with the suffocating coldness of the Valg prince’s influence. He patted at his neck feeling the smooth skin there in an attempt to reassure himself that the collar was gone. He was safe. He had nothing to fear. His mind was his own.

Manon lay in the bed next to him her moon-colored hair spread out across the pillows. Slowly, Dorian eased himself back down onto the bed, eyes never leaving her. He walked his hand across the space between them and ran his fingertips across hers. He felt the places where her iron claws would snap out to cover her regular nails and thought about how easily they could slice through his flesh and end his life. She could kill you. He reminded himself. It was the mantra he repeated every time he’d woken in a panic next to her. If you were possessed she could kill you before you hurt anyone. It’s safe. You can relax.

Manon’s eyes opened, the luminous gold shining in the darkness. They just stared at each other for several stretching seconds.

“I’m okay,” Dorian said after a minute answering the question he knew she was thinking.

Manon raised an eyebrow skeptically. She knew he wasn’t alright just as clearly as he knew she wasn't alright. The first night they had spent together after the defeat of Erawan all they had done was collapse onto Dorian’s narrow cot in the tiny room his was sharing with Fenrys, clutch at each other and sob. They had eventually cried themselves to sleep and woken in the morning with aching heads and Fenrys still conspicuously missing. They hadn’t talked about it but then again they hadn’t really needed to, they were both able to fathom the depths of the other’s pain without needing to use words.

Manon didn’t push Dorian for more details, she knew that he would talk if he wanted to; it was a courtesy he also granted to her. Eventually, however, she reached out with the hand that wasn’t touching his and brushed his hair back into place. The gesture was a little awkward and hesitant—Manon was still getting the hang of gestures of affection—but still comforting. “You should go back to sleep,” she said. “I’ll watch over you.”

Dorian knew she didn’t mean she’d kill him if he showed any signs of being possessed again, in fact he was pretty sure she didn’t even know about that, but it was still comforting. He curled deeper into the blankets and tried to catch a little more sleep.

~~~~

Getting back into the palace at Rifthold turned out to be the easiest part of retaking his throne. The Valg were all dead or comatose and the witches had left to fight in Terrasen, so they basically walked right in. The trouble was reinstating control over the panicking population. Dorian, Chaol and Yrene had the khaganate armies with them which allowed them to establish order but that was only a temporary fix. Dorian immediately began reforming Adarlan’s army. The people couldn’t be allowed to view the khaganate’s presence as a foreign occupation and Adarlan needed to be able to defend itself again before the other countries rebuilt enough to wonder if they should be allowed to.

With Manon flying back to the Wastes with her people and Chaol and Yrene occupied with their coming child, Dorian was remarkably alone for those first few weeks. All the advisors he’d appointed after his father’s death had either fled or been killed by the witches and the court had never reformed after the destruction of the glass palace. Dorian was king of an empty, echoing palace with far too many ghosts and empty rooms.

Still he tried to make the best of it. He could not begrudge Manon her queendom or Chaol and Yrene their happiness. He hadn’t even expected to live to see the end of the war; that should have been enough of him.

So he worked and tried to rebuild his kingdom. He appointed new advisors, he appointed a new Captain of the Guard, he encouraged the sycophants who had made up the court for all his life to return. He was a good king. The only thing he did which raised eyebrows was order that his tower be rebuilt as quickly as possible and sleep in a guest room until it was. He hadn’t been able to set foot in his father’s chambers after his coronation and the fact that the man had saved his life from the Lock did nothing to change that.

He worked hard and fell exhausted into bed every night only to wake a few hours later panting with panic and wondering if his mind was his own. Sometimes he could get to sleep again sometimes he wouldn’t but he always got up the next morning and continued on like nothing had happened. It was nothing new. He’d been having nightmares since Aelin had freed him from Valg control. At first he’d screamed so loud that the guards had come running thinking he was being assassinated but eventually he’d learned to panic silently and he was pretty sure he had most people fooled.

Two days before the night he woke panting next to Manon, he had returned to his newly refurbished tower to find her sitting on his bed, grinning at him. For a few minutes all he did was stare at her.

“What’s the matter, princeling?” She asked.

“You’re here,” He said. Then cursed himself for not coming up with something more eloquent to say.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come to visit?” She asked. Her smile didn’t falter but her eyes looked a little hurt.

“I’d hoped you would,” Dorian said. A year before he might have managed to make that sound confident or flirty, now he just sounded like he was going to cry from shear relief. “I’m glad you did.”

~~~~

“I’m going to write my mother and tell her that it’s safe for her and Hollin to return to Rifthold,” Dorian announced breakfast the morning after he’d woken Manon while panicking.

“You don’t have to associate with them if you don’t want to,” Manon said. “You’re the king.” She popped another sausage into her mouth and chewed loudly. In the time Dorian had spent traveling with the Thirteen and Manon he’d seen them eat food both raw and cooked and never had been able to tell which they preferred. She was, however, eating with her hands which Dorian suspected was meant to annoy Chaol who was sitting across the table with his mouth puckered in displeasure.

Chaol has not actually pulled Dorian aside for the “I think we need to talk about your choice of lovers” talk that Dorian knew his best friend was dying to have. Chaol had wisely let it go when there was a war going on, but now there was nothing to stop him, especially now that he knew Manon intended to keep visiting. Dorian was dreading that conversation because he didn’t know how to explain to his best friend what was going on between him and Manon.

“I know I don’t have to,” Dorian said. “But my mother deserves better than to be locked up in the mountains and Hollin is my heir. It’s in my best interest if he doesn’t have reason to hate me.” He didn’t mention that Hollin was likely to be the only heir he’d ever have. After all, he couldn’t see himself ever marrying another woman even if it was just for an heir and any child of his and Manon’s would be an immortal witch and therefore heir to her mother’s throne.

He pushed the thought of a child with Manon away before it completely formed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea of being a parent when he barely managed to hold himself together half the time, and he had no idea how Manon felt about such things. Not to mention, witchlings were even rarer than Fae children were; the chances that he and Manon would be able to conceive together even if they tried were not good. It was not even worth considering.

Even if he also wasn’t convinced he didn’t want to have a baby with Manon.

Chaol ripped his eyes away from Manon. “That makes sense,” he said. “You should do that.”

I don’t need your permission. Dorian thought, then quickly crushed the thought. Chaol did not deserve his frustration. He did not have to come back here with him when he would have been perfectly welcome either in Terrasen or Antica. Dorian should be happy with that. He couldn’t ruin it.

~~~~

Dorian’s mother and brother had spent the war in a castle in the mountains. Dorian’s father had sent them there before his death and Dorian had never invited them back.

All in all, that mountain keep was probably the safest place in Adarlan, which was different from saying that the war had not touched them. Rifthold’s fall had cut off supply lines and Erawan had sent a small battalion of soldiers and a few witches to blockade the keep. None of Morath’s forces had ever tried all that hard to invade that keep which begged the question of what exactly Erawan had been doing. Dorian would have put money on the whole point being to keep tabs on Hollin until Dorian himself could be confirmed dead and Erawan could put Hollin on the throne of Adarlan with a Valg collar around his neck.

No matter what the plan had been, Georgina and Hollin Havilliard had had a much tamer run of the war than Dorian had, but they still had experienced it at least in part. The keep had begun to run out of food in the last months of the war and had gone into pretty heavy rationing. Dorian only knew this from the reports sent by the lord of the keep; his mother’s letters were nothing but endless prattling about how much she was looking forward to returning to Rifthold. He hadn’t heard anything from Hollin, but that was not exactly unsurprising.

Georgina and Hollin arrived as the sun was setting one morning early in the spring once the snow had melted enough to travel. Dorian, Chaol and Yrene met them on the front steps of the palace. Manon was back in the Wastes, something Dorian was more than a little thankful for; he was not ready to introduce his Irontooth witch lover to his mother yet.

As long as Dorian had been alive, his mother had remained basically unchanged. Her clothes changed with the fashions, but she never seemed to age. Her skin had remained smooth and perfect and her auburn hair remained vibrant as ever. When he’d been a child, Dorian had sometimes wondered if she was secretly Fae and that was how she remained youthful.

Nothing could have prepared him for his mother with lines on her face and gray in her hair. She’d lost weight and the traveling gown she was wearing hung strangely on her. She looked tired and old. Six months in an out-of-the-way keep had aged her more than twenty years in the glass palace of Rifthold had. He barely recognized her.

He could tell from the way her faltered when she saw him, that she barely recognized him either. He supposed that was unsurprising. In the recent months he’d had most of his wardrobe remade. The fashionable things he’d once worn now seemed frivolous, and he’d put on enough muscle since being freed from Valg possession that most of the clothes that had been designed to hug his soft, unhoned prince’s body didn’t fit him anymore. He still favored the same blue color scheme as he had for most of his life, but the style of his clothes was now decidedly military. Not to mention that there was the pale band of skin from the Valg collar which he couldn’t decide whether to hide or to display proudly like a battlescar.

Dorian gave his mother a smile, trying to set her at ease. “Hello, Mother,” he said. “How was your trip?” He consciously tried to sound like his old self. Nesryn had told him that his intonation had changed slightly since he’d been freed. Not much, but it was noticeable. “You sound like you’ve constantly got something really heavy and all-consuming on your mind,” she’d told him. He assumed Chaol and Aelin had noticed as well and just decided not to mention it.

Georgina tried to give him the same sunny smile she’d used hundreds of times a day in court, but it came out a little cracked and tired. “It’s good to see you,” she said. Even her voice sounded older. “The trip was fine, thank you very much.”

They hugged then, but a little awkwardly. Neither of them had much practice in physical affection with the other. When they pulled apart, Dorian motioned Chaol and Yrene forward. “Mother, you remember Chaol, don’t you?” he asked. “He’s my Hand now.”

She nodded to Chaol and he gave her a galant little bow. “Nice to see you again, your majesty.”

“And this is his wife, Lady Yrene Towers Westfall of the Torre Cesme,” Dorian continued.

Yrene curtseyed. “Your majesty.”

Georgina nodded, looking like she was barely paying attention. After a moment, she reached behind her and called, “Hollin, are you going to say hello?”

Footsteps sounded behind her and Dorian looked up to see his little brother standing quietly on the steps behind her.

Hollin had changed as much as Georgina had. His hair had grown long enough that it could be tied back with a ribbon. Like his mother, he’d lost weight and that made him and Dorian look more alike than they ever had before.

The biggest change, however was in mannerisms. The Hollin Dorian had known before would never had stood quietly and waited to be addressed. Hollin surveyed them all with a pinched look of someone who had learned something fundamentally nasty about the world. He didn’t look like someone who had just been freed from being possessed by a Valg prince all his life, but he did look different.

Hollin stared up into Dorian’s face for a long while before he spoke, “Is this you, Dorian?” he asked. “Is this really you?”

“Of course it is,” Dorian said. “Who else would it be?” He ignored the obvious, “A Valg prince masquerading as you” because there was no way that was what Hollin meant. He didn’t know what exactly his brother did mean, but he knew it wasn’t that; no one in the court had noticed that.

Hollin studied Dorian for so long it began to get uncomfortable, then he said, “I’m tired. Do I have a room to sleep in?”

“Yes,” Dorian said, caught wrongfooted. “Since your old room was in the glass palace, I had a room made up for you for tonight and then tomorrow you can choose another room.”

“Okay,” Hollin said. “That sounds good.”

Dorian had never heard Hollin say the words “okay” or “good” before. He was starting to wonder if it was possible the boy had been possessed.

“I’ll take you to your room,” Yrene said, bending down so she was more on Hollin’s level and holding out her hand. “Would you like that?”

Hollin eyed Yrene’s hand like he wasn’t sure what to do with it, then reached out slowly and took it. “I would like that,” he said. A pause. “Thank you.”

Yrene grinned and straightened up. “Come along, then,” she said leading him into the stone palace.

“I assume my chambers remain as they were before?” Georgina asked.

“Of course, Mother,” Dorian said shoving aside his shock at Hollin’s halfway human behavior. “I had them cleaned for you.”

“Thank you,” she said and headed into the palace after Hollin and Yrene.

Dorian shot a look at Chaol who just shrugged.

~~~~

The weeks passed. Georgina’s presence drew the courtiers back to the palace and within a week they were having parties just as they once had. Dorian avoided them like the plague, locking himself in his tower or shape-shifting into a crow and flying to the house Chaol was building for himself and Yrene or to the beach to watch the waves. Some nights he stood on his balcony, stared at the horizon and wondered how long it would take him to get to the Wastes if he shifted into a wyvern and made the wind blow at his back as he flew. He always managed to talk himself out of it. His magic was not boundless anymore and he needed to be careful of his limits. Someday, however, he promised himself, he would find an excuse to go the Wastes and see Manon’s queendom just as she had seen his kingdom.

There were a number of strange things going on, though. Hollin had been remarkably subdued. He hadn’t thrown any tantrums and hadn’t even chosen a new room. When Dorian had asked about it, Hollin had simply said the room he was currently in was “fine” and hadn’t elaborated when Dorian had pushed.

“Was he possessed before we defeated Erawan?” Dorian asked Yrene in an undertone one morning, after Hollin had been accidently served burnt porridge and had simply eaten it without comment until Georgina had swooped in and demanded something better for him.

“I checked the first day they arrived,” Yrene replied, her hand resting on her growing belly. “There’s no sign of Valg possession past or present.”

“But he’s acting so different,” Dorian said. “What other explanation in there?”

Yrene shrugged. “He’s had a hard few months, people change.”

Dorian glanced across the room and saw that Hollin was watching him with an intense expression. “He keeps doing that,” he said.

“Doing what?” Yrene asked, following his gaze.

“Watching me,” Dorian said. “Every time I turn around he’s staring at me. It’s freaking me out. I’m starting to think he’s plotting my murder.”

“I don’t think it’s anything that drastic,” Yrene said after a moment. “I’ll see what I can find out, but it might not be much; I don’t want to lose his trust.”

“Thank you,” Dorian said. “I’ll sleep a lot better at night if I know what exactly’s going on with him.”

~~~~

One night several weeks after Georgina and Hollin had returned to the palace, Dorian returned to his tower after a long day of politicking. When he finally got back to his tower, he had a headache and was exhausted from far too many nights of broken, nightmare-filled sleep. He was thinking of little more than collapsing face down onto his bed and trying to sleep for a few hours before the nightmares woke him again when he realized there was someone sitting on his bed. His first thought was that someone had broken in to kill him, then he recognized the moon-colored hair.

“Manon.”

She lifted her head to look at him and he realized her face was streaked with tears. He started across the room towards her and she threw herself into his arms. Dorian wrapped his arms around her and said nothing. She would speak when she was ready.

Manon only allowed herself about five minutes of tears before she pulled away and pushed her hair back from her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, tightly. “I just-”

“It’s fine,” Dorian said. “You’re allowed to cry. I won’t judge you for it and no one else should either.”

Manon collapsed down onto the bed and hugged herself. Dorian sat down next to her, close enough that she could lean against him if she wanted but not close enough that they were touching in case she didn’t want that. “I don’t even know what’s--why--” she sighed. “I can’t figure out what is different than any other week. Nothing unusual happened. I just can’t stop thinking about them and it hurts and I just needed to get away so I came-”

“So I came here.” Dorian was flattered that he was person she thought to come to when she was upset, but that was something to feel proud about at another time. “That happens sometimes,” he said once he’d had enough time to gather his thoughts and work out something intelligent to say. “I’m glad you came here instead of suffering alone.”

Manon nodded, her lips pressed tight together like she was trying not to cry again. She ran her hands into her hair and gripped tight. She didn’t have her iron nails out so Dorian took that as a victory, though she could pull her hair out by the roots without her nails.

“Can I hold you?” he asked. “Would that help?”

After a moment she nodded and Dorian carefully threaded his arms around her, holding her gently against him. Eventually they fell backwards onto the bed together and drew their legs up, not caring that they were both still wearing boots. Manon turned towards Dorian and wrapped her arms around him as well.

They lay together, listening to the sounds of their own breathing for a long, long time.

~~~~

When Dorian next woke the room was dark and chilly now that the fire had gone out. Manon was still curled up against him, fast asleep. At first he thought the cold had been what had woken him, but then he heard a tentative knocking on the door. He closed his eyes and hoped whoever was would just go away, but the knocking came again and again.

He opened his eyes again to find Manon awake, her golden eyes glowing. “Do people often knock on your door in the middle of the night?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then it's probably important,” she said. “You should answer it. Who knows, maybe it’s news that another demon king had broken into the world and has gone on a murderous rampage.”

Dorian’s stomach lurched at the thought. “That,” he said. “Is not funny,” but it got up and headed for the door.

When he opened the door, he was expecting news about anything from another country declaring war on Adarlan to Yrene going into early labor. What was actually waiting on the other side of the door was the exact last thing he ever would have expected.

“Hollin?”

His little brother looked up at him with serious eyes. He was dressed in sleep clothes and looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. “I need to talk to you,” he said.

“Hollin, it’s the middle of the night,” Dorian said, positioning his body so Hollin couldn’t see into the room and catch a glimpse of Manon. “You woke me up. Go back to bed; we can talk in the morning.”

“You’re still dressed,” Hollin pointed out, eyebrows raised. “You even have your boots on.”

He had a point. Dorian searched his mind for a better excuse but couldn’t find one. “It’s still late. You should be asleep and I need to get to bed if I’m going to be good for anything tomorrow. We can talk after breakfast.” He started to close the door, but Hollin’s hand shot out and stopped it.

“I know it wasn’t you,” Hollin said.

Dorian froze. “What are you talking about?” he asked, feeling ice crystals beginning to form on his teeth and tongue.

“At your birthday party. And around the palace before Mother and I were sent away,” Hollin said. “It looked like you, it sounded like you, but it wasn’t you. No one else seemed to notice, but I did and at first I thought I was crazy. Then we got trapped in the mountains and people were talking about how the enemy could invade someone and turn them into some else entirely, and I knew.”

Dorian didn’t know what it do. His ears rang and he felt like he was about to pass out. No one outside of those directly involved with Erawan’s defeat were supposed to know about Dorian’s possession. It was almost a bigger secret than the fact that Dorian had been the one to destroy the glass palace. Hollin couldn’t know. He just couldn’t.

“I think you better let him in, princeling,” Manon said coming up behind him. “This is not a conversation that should take place in a hallway.”

Hollin’s jaw dropped, his eyes got huge and his face turned beet red. “I-I-I-”

Manon pushed Dorian gently aside and motioned for Hollin to come in. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she crooned. “Nothing untoward is happening. Come in.”

Hollin stepped cautiously into the room, eyeing Manon carefully. He wasn’t stupid; he could tell Manon wasn’t human.

Dorian closed the door softly and leaned against it as Manon motioned for Hollin to sit down on the bed. “You should sit down too, princeling,” she said without looking at Dorian, “before you pass out.”

Dorian sunk down onto the bed leaving a good amount of space between himself and Hollin. Manon kicked off her boots and hitched herself up on the end of the bed so she was sitting on the frame with her feet on the mattress. For several minutes none of them spoke then Dorian finally managed to figure out what to say, “You said you knew it wasn’t me,” He said “How could you tell? You barely know me.”

“You didn’t find excuses to leave the room whenever I entered it,” Hollin said, matter-of-factly. “And Father actually seemed pleased with you most of the time.”

Dorian bit his lip. He hadn’t realized Hollin had noticed that he had avoided him, he’d thought the child to self-centered for that. The shame of it gutted him. Manon put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed cautiously like she wasn’t quite sure if she was doing it right.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Hollin said. “That’s where that came from, isn’t it?” He pointed at the band of pale skin around Dorian’s neck.

Dorian couldn’t stop from reaching up to touch the bare skin of his neck. “Yes,” He said after a minute. “That’s exactly where this came from.”

Hollin said nothing, chewing on his lip for a long time. “But…” he said. “You’re you now, right?” The words held more feeling than Dorian had ever heard from his little brother before. He realized this was what Hollin had meant when he’d asked if it was really Dorian on his first day back in Rifthold. He’d known that the last time he had seen Dorian it had been a demon and not his brother, and he’d been trying to figure out if that was still the case.

“It’s me now,” Dorian assured him. “I was rescued.”

Hollin nodded very slowly as he worked it over. “Can it take over again?”

Dorian whole being tensed to hear someone state the very thing that haunted his nightmares. Manon squeezed his shoulder again. “No,” he said after a moment, because that was what Hollin needed to hear. “Now that Erawan has been defeated, it can’t.”

Hollin pursed his lips and thought. Dorian waited for his reaction. “The soldiers in the keep talked about how the enemy could possess our own people,” he said after a while. “Mother said that was a folktale, but it wasn’t. That was how Erawan got his army.” Dorian nodded and Hollin went on, “Did anyone else get possessed? Or was it just you?”

Dorian opened his mouth, then stopped. He wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t just tell Hollin about their father. Hollin was a child, and even if he wasn’t, it wasn’t like there was any real reason he needed know now.

As if she could tell what he was thinking, Manon leaned forward. “You should tell him,” she said into his ear, soft enough that Hollin couldn’t hear but Dorian’s magic still picked up on it.

“I can’t tell him,” Dorian hissed back, knowing that Manon’s immortal hearing was better than a human’s. “He’s a child.”

“It’s his father too,” Manon said. “He deserves to know.”

“What are you talking about?” Hollin asked, sounding suspicious for the first time in the conversation.

Dorian sighed and Manon pulled away, though her hand still remained tentatively on his shoulder. “Hollin,” he said, trying to force the words out before he thought to much about what he was saying, “About our father…”

~~~~

Dorian tried to keep it simple, but Hollin still looked shell-shocked by the time he was done. He wasn’t surprised, after all, he’d destroyed a glass palace when he’d figured out his father had been possessed by a demon for most of his life. He felt like a terrible person for telling his little brother.

“Does Mother know?” Hollin finally got out.

“No,” Dorian admitted. “I haven’t been able to figure out how to tell her. Perhaps it’s better for her if she doesn’t know.”

“If we both know she needs to,” Hollin said. “Neither of us were married to him.”

Dorian just stared at him. “When did you learn how to-” he cut himself off when he realized that whatever he was about to say would definitely been insulting.

Unfortunately, Hollin seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. “Things were bad at the keep,” he said. “I suppose it could have been worse, but it still wasn’t good. The officers and soldiers didn’t take any shit, even from a prince.”

Manon chuckled. Dorian turned to ask what she thought was so funny, but Hollin said, “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

Too late Dorian realized that he’d never introduced them. “Oh,” he said, twenty years of court training the only thing keeping him from stammering. “Hollin, this is Manon. Manon, this is my brother, Hollin.”

“I gathered as much,” Manon said dryly. “A pleasure.”

Hollin looked from Dorian to Manon and back again. “Are you lovers?” he asked.

Manon choked.

Dorian burst out laughing. “Why are you so surprised, witchling?” he asked. “Ironteeth witches don’t marry!”

“I’m sorry,” Manon snarled, though when he turned his head he could see that she was smiling. “I was under the impression that humans were more prudish than witches.”

“He did grow up in the court of Adarlan,” Dorian pointed out.

Hollin cleared his throat. “Am I correct in assuming that the fact that Mother hasn’t been ranting about this means that this is another thing you haven’t told her about this either?”

“Yeah,” Dorian admitted. “She doesn’t know about this either.”

“Okay,” Hollin said after a moment. “I’m just going to stay out of this then.”

“That’s probably wise,” Manon said with a wicked smile that made Hollin cringe back in fear.

“Don’t worry, she’s harmless,” Dorian said with a grin. “Her wyvern likes flowers.”

Hollin chuckled cautiously, but Manon growled, “Thanks, princeling.”

“It’s true, you can’t deny it,” Dorian patted her hand comfortingly. “Don’t worry, we all love Abraxos anyway.”

She snarled, but Dorian just grinned at her.

~~~~

Dorian was woken yet again by someone knocking on his door. He opened his eyes and squinted at the morning sunlight that was filling the room. He and Manon were curled up together on at the foot of the bed while Hollin was sleeping at the head. None of them had actually decided that was how they were going to spend the night, that was just what had happened after they’d stayed up until just before the sun rose. After a moment of wishing people would just let him sleep, Dorian disentangled himself from Manon and went to the door.

His mother was standing outside.

“Mother?” he said. “Is something wrong?”

“Tomorrow night I’m throwing a banquet,” she said. “I have taken the liberty of announcing that you will attend and speak.”

“Mother!” the word burst out of Dorian before he had a chance to think. “Mother, you can’t just-”

“You have not attended a party of banquet since you became king,” Georgina said. “You will attend this one.”

“Mother, I am king,” he said. “You cannot force me to do this.”

“You are a young king with very little political support,” Georgina said through her teeth. “You need to make the right impression and convince everyone that you’re not insane and leading Adarlan to ruin.”

“Why would I be leading Adarlan to ruin, Mother?” Dorian snapped. “Because I’m not leading this country on a path of bloody conquering under the orders of a demon?”

Georgina sucked in a breath. There was a flush high on her cheeks. Dorian didn’t think he’d ever seen her so angry. “I’m not asking you to get down on your knees and worship a demon, Dorian!” she snapped. “I’m asking you to go to a party and speak to your people. I’m asking you to flirt with women. You’d think that you’d jump at the chance to do that.”

Dorian tried not to scream. His mother didn’t know what had happened to him, so it was unfair of him to expect her to understand. He wanted to tell her that there was no way that he would be going to the banquet, but if she had really told people he would be there he would have to attend or risk offending people. That was not something he could risk; Georgina was right about him needing political support.

“Fine,” he snarled. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” she said. “Wear something fashionable. Like you used to.” Then she turned and stalked away.

It took all Dorian’s self control not to slam the door. Instead he closed it quietly. Manon and Hollin were watching him, but neither of them said anything. Dorian leaned back against the door and stared up at the ceiling.

None of them said anything for a long time.

~~~~

The night of the banquet, Dorian ignored Georgina’s request to wear something like he used to. He did dress for the occasion, but it was something that he could fight in if he needed to.

He left Manon in his chambers, paging idly through one of his favorite books. He wasn’t sure why she hadn’t gone back to Wastes yet, and he wasn’t planning to ask for fear of causing her to leave. He knew that didn’t make any sense, but that didn’t stop him from worrying about it.

He was fashionably late for the banquet just like he’d learned to be as a younger man. Twenty years of life as a prince had trained him to be used to people staring at him, but he was not prepared for the way the entire ballroom froze when he was announced. It was as if everyone had been ordered to stare at the king and do nothing else. He faltered for a split second then his upbringing took over. He smiled easily and headed across the room towards Chaol and Yrene, the only non-threatening people in the room.

Even though this banquet was being held in a ballroom in the stone castle and not the glorious one in the glass palace, Dorian was shocked by how much it felt just the same. The room was decorated with unnecessary extravagance and the people looked the same and sounded the same. It even smelled the same.

Dorian felt his stomach clench and his heartbeat start to speed up. He tried to ignore it. This was just a party. He’d been in hundreds before. There was nothing to be nervous about, even if he had been possessed the last time he’d been at a party of Adarlan’s court.

When he reached Chaol and Yrene, he told himself to calm down. Chaol and Yrene would protect him. A second later he realized how ridiculous that was and cursed himself for thinking it.

“Well it seems that losing the glass palace did not change the court’s parties in any substantial way,” Chaol said, studying the decorations and the people. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“Yeah,” Dorian said blankly, still trying to get his nerves under control.

Yrene was watching him with a penetrating sort of knowing that only healers seemed to possess. “Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” he said. There was nothing else to say. He had to be here so he had no choice but to be fine.

Chaol looked more closely at Dorian, eyes narrowed as he looked for whatever had worried his wife. Before he could make his own inquiries about how Dorian was doing, someone swooped in and grabbed Dorian by the arm.

Dorian couldn’t help it. He flinched. It wasn’t a small flinch either. It was a big, obvious, impossible to hide flinch. His magic flared, coating his mouth with ice.

“I’m sorry for startling you, your majesty,” the woman who was hanging off his arm said. Albertine. They’d been something once several years ago, before she’d run off with a soldier. Dorian didn’t know the details and didn’t want to, but she hadn’t spoken to him since.

“Hello, Albertine,” Dorian said. His words came out on a cloud of his breath even though the air around him was warm. He made a conscious effort to calm down.

“It’s so nice to see you again after so long!” Albertine said like she hadn’t been the one to call off their whatever-it-was. “I’ve missed you so and I know you must have missed me too!”

Dorian hadn’t missed her and she knew she probably hadn’t missed him either. Their relationship had been nothing more than teenagers fooling around and they’d both known that. The only reason Albertine was pretending otherwise was because Dorian was king now and that meant he needed a queen.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Dorian said mostly to be polite. He tried to extract his arm from Albertine’s but her grip was too tight.

“It certainly is,” She stood on her toes and leaned in close enough that Dorian could feel her warm, very human breath against his cheek. She was probably saying something flirty, but Dorian couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear anything anymore, not over the ringing in his ears.

Albertine had brown hair, but other than that, she didn’t look like Sorscha at all. That didn’t matter. The hair and the fragile humanness of her was enough. The ballroom and the banquet vanished and he was kneeling in the throne room of the glass palace, soaked in Sorscha’s blood, screaming and screaming and screaming.

Someone ripped Albertine away from him and at the same time ripped him back into reality. Dorian blinked, breathless and off-balance as he tried to figure out where he was and what was going on. Sorscha’s blood and the sound of his own screaming still echoed in his head.

“Hello, I’m Lady Yrene Westfall,” Yrene was saying, her body placed defensively between Dorian and Albertine. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m so new to court and completely lost. Can you please show me around?”

“Dorian,” Chaol said from Dorian’s side. “Come with me.”

Dorian nodded blankly and began to walk with his friend through the throngs of laughing people. He felt like he was looking at everything through a couple layers of separation. There had been so much blood…

“Can I touch you?” Chaol asked under his breath. That must have been something he’d learned from Yrene because pre-Yrene Chaol would never have realized that maybe he should ask first.

Dorian shook his head vigorously. He didn’t want to risk Chaol’s touch setting him off again.

“Alright,” Chaol guided Dorian out of the ballroom and out into the gardens without touching him or letting anyone else touch him.

They walked through the gardens until Dorian couldn’t anymore. “Stop,” he said, stumbling up against a fountain, one arm wrapped around his stomach and the other clutching at his neck, fingers scraping against bare skin of his neck looking for a collar that wasn’t there. “Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” Chaol asked, he was hovering nearby but not to close. “Dorian, what’s going on?”

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Dorian got out through clenched teeth, his breaths distinct puffs in the far-from-freezing air. He swallowed heavily, trying to keep his stomach where it belonged.

He slid down the ground and curled up, forehead pressing against his knees. He stayed like that for a while without moving until his stomach began to settle and he was able to admit that the he probably wasn’t going to puke if only because he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He lifted his head and Chaol was kneeling next to him looking like he had no idea what to do.

“What was that?” Chaol asked.

“Flashback,” Dorian said roughly.

“Are you…” Chaol began then trailed off like he wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’m alright now,” Dorian forced himself to uncurl. There was blood under the nails of the hand that had been clawing at his throat. He’d broken skin. He sat on that hand in an effort to hide it, though he figured Chaol had probably already noticed.

They sat in silence for a long time, then Chaol said, “Does this happen often?”

Dorian shrugged. “Sometimes,” he said. “There’s a lot of different factors. It’s happening a lot more now that the war is over, which doesn’t make any sense.”

Chaol thought for a long time. Dorian could see him trying to come up with the right thing to say and failing. Time and silence stretched on until Dorian heard giggling voices of a couple heading into the gardens. Chaol began to get to his feet, presumably to tell the couple to the return to the palace because the king was in the gardens, but Dorian was already and his feet and fleeing back to the palace.

He ignored Chaol calling after him.

~~~~

As humiliating as it was, Dorian was on the verge of tears by the time he got back to his tower room. Manon was still sitting on his bed, bent over the book and looking considerably more engaged than she had been when he’d left. When she looked up she was smiling slightly, but when she saw him the expression froze and melted away into something unfamiliar.

“What happened?” she was on her feet and at Dorian’s side in seconds. “Who hurt you? Tell me.”

It took Dorian a minute to remember how to speak. “It’s-It’s nothing.”

Manon snorted. “If you’re going to lie to me, princeling, I’d appreciate more effort than that.”

“Nothing happened,” Dorian said. He made more of an effort to speak levelly and calmly this time and sort of managed it.

“I still don’t believe you,” Manon said, her golden eyes bored into him, seeming to see everything. “You’re shaking like a leaf and you have blood under your fingernails. What happened? Where you attacked?”

“I-” Dorian tried, then looked away. He wasn’t sure where to start. “No,” he said. “I wasn’t attacked. I-” he managed to look up at her again. “Do you have any idea how much blood there is when someone is beheaded?”

Understanding dawned on Manon’s face. “Oh,” she said.

Dorian turned away. “I don’t even know why it happened. It should have been fine. And now Chaol probably thinks I’m insane and any number of the people could have seen. This is a disaster. I need to fix it. I don’t know how to fix it. I-”

“Dorian,” Manon said, when he didn’t respond she said again, “Dorian,” Then she lunged to the bed, picked something up and set it in his hands. It was the book she’d been reading. “You told me that this is one of your favorite books,” she said. “Tell me what you like about it.”

“But-” Dorian stared blankly down at the book. “But Chaol saw-”

“Dorian,” Manon said, not necessarily sharply, but in a tone that allowed for no argument. “Tell me what you like about this book. Please.”

Dorian took a deep shaky breath and tried to think. “Well, for one,” he said tremulously. “It’s got a really unique magic system...”

~~~~

Dorian lost track of time as he and Manon sat on his bed. Dorian held the book in his lap and talked, describing why it was one of his favorites in a depth he’d never attempted before. Manon sat next to him nodding encouragingly and sometimes asking questions. She was undeniably deeply engaged and didn’t complain even when he ended forgetting that she hadn’t finished it and spoiling things.

When he finally reached the end, he sighed. “I need to go back to the party,” he said. “I have a speech I need to give. It’s been publicized. I can’t just skip it.”

“I’ll come with you,” Manon said. When Dorian just blinked at her in surprise she said, “Technically I’m a visiting foreign dignitary. No one will be able to question it if I show up and we’ll have an excuse to stay close to each other.”

She had a point and Dorian did not want to go and face that party again alone.

“Alright,” he said. “Do you have something to wear?”

~~~~

Manon had a clean set of riding leathers in her pack as well as her crown. Dorian almost asked why she felt the need to have that with her at all times, but she gave him a look that said not to.

Dorian changed because there were dirt and grass stains on the knees of his pants and because he just wanted to put his previous experience at the party behind him. His magic had healed the scratches he’s gouged into his own throat while crawling at a nonexistent collar, but he still had to wash blood out from under his fingernails.

When he was finished with these preparations, Manon was ready as well. She was wearing a red cloak that Dorian recognized as one of his own from when he was much younger. She held another cloak out to him, this one a dark blue which matched with the clothes he was wearing. “Here,” she said. “Put this on. We can match.”

Dorian took the cloak with a smile and swung it over his shoulders. Though he owned cloaks, he had never been much for them as a fashion statement. He’d worn heavy black oilskin cloaks while traveling with the Thirteen to stay dry, but wearing one to a party was something that he normally wouldn’t do. Granted, he did lots of things he normally wouldn’t do now so it didn’t matter that much.

Manon looked him up and down. “You look like you won’t take anyone’s shit,” she said. “It’s a good look for you.”

“Thanks,” He said. “So do you.”

Manon grinned wickedly. “That’s the point, princeling. That’s the point.”

~~~~

Dorian found himself walking down the hall leading to the banquet hall again. He was still a little anxious but Manson’s presence at his side calmed him.

Manon was studying the walls and ceiling and floor. Dorian could see her noticing the places where the stone castle was scarred from the broken shards of glass from the glass palace hurtling through the corridors. When most people noticed those things they looked horrified, but Manon looked impressed like she approved of the fact Dorian had been able to wreak this much havoc. Dorian was bizarrely comforted.

The guards were anything but comforted. Manon was unarmed, unless she had a knife down her down one of her boots like Dorian did, but she still radiated the aura of someone who could and would kill anyone who got in her way. The guards shifted worriedly and reached for their weapons. They all seemed to be contemplating whether or not they needed to swoop in and save their king. Dorian gave a couple of them an easy grin in an attempt to show that everything was fine.

The man whose job is was to announce anyone entering the the ballroom room banked at Dorian’s reappearance and outright flinched at sight of Manon beside him.

“Sorry to bother you again,” Dorian said politely. “But can you please announce us?”

The man ripped this terrified gaze away from Manon and stammered, “Yes, your Highness. How should I announce the lady?”

“Manon Blackbeak-Crochan,” Manon said coolly. “Queen of the Witches.”

Somehow the man managed to become even paler and more terrified. “Yes, right. A pleasure to meet you, you Highness,” he gave a quavering little bow and hurried off to take his position.

Dorian stood before the doors and took a moment to put himself together and prepare for the returning the party. He straightened his cloak and sleeves and reminded himself that he could be as uncomfortable as he wanted when all this was over.

“Are you going to take my arm?” Manon asked.

Dorian blinked. “Do you want me to?”

She grinned. “Think of it. We’d probably give Lord Westfall and your mother aneurysms.”

Dorian smiled at the thought and held out her arm. She slid her arm through his and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll just hang out and scare your mother and best friend until you need to give your speech,” Manon said, matter-of-factly. “Then we’ll return to your tower. I know you haven’t been sleeping any better than I have; we both need to rest.”

Under other circumstances, Dorian might have argued, but the idea of the party having a definite end was comforting. “Okay,” he agreed.

“Good,” she said as the doors to the ballroom opened. They both turned to face forward and lifted their heads high.

They walked into the ballroom arm in arm, and somehow the stunned faces of the guests seemed more manageable.

#throne of glass #kingdom of ash #post-kingdom of ash #kingdom of ash spoilers #dorian havilliard #manon blackbeak #manon x dorian #manorian #hollin havilliard #georgina havilliard #chaol westfall #yrene towers #chaol x yrene #sarah j maas #emjenenla #Emjen writes #tw: ptsd #tw: flashback

[rattycattyfanfic]

stroke by stroke

Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: Regina/Emma, Alice/Robyn, Regina & Henry, Regina & Zelena Genre: Family/Fluff Rated: T Words: 2,255

Once upon a time, Regina paints.

5 times Regina struggles with her secret penchant for creativity + 1 time she finds her muse.

Read on AO3

this grew out of the plot in the regina rising book, where regina takes art classes for a bit. if you haven't read it, it's not crucial for this, just the inspiration. purely wrote this because art school has been kicking my butt recently and i must live everything through the cathartic distance of fictional characters. enjoy!

warnings: suggestions of childhood abuse, swearing, bit of brief alcohol use.

Once upon a time, Regina paints.

She’s not good, not by a long shot, but she loves it all the same. Loves to paint the horses, the tall, breathing trees and the horizon with its promise of freedom always just out of reach. The thick oils feel luxurious in an unfamiliar way, a far cry from the extravagance of corsets and jewels and feasts. They feel sumptuous, soulful, vibrant as she lays down rich colour, and she delights in it, escapes into the stables through her mind every time she picks up the paintbrush.

Her tutor, Jasper, is handsome and smiles when she masters a new technique or finishes a work, and Regina blushes all the way down to her toes. And therein lies the problem; because mother rarely allows her daughter the distraction of hobbies, let alone friends or boys not specifically approved by her, and she’s eagle-eyed looking for any excuse to put a stop to this. The excuse comes in the form of Jasper hovering at her shoulder, guiding her hand gently and his breath in her ear, and that’s that.

Jasper is ordered to leave, banned from the estate, and mother gets her digs in about Regina's poor painting skill, and the pressure to find an eligible prince to wed heats up. She no longer has time for frivolities between other lessons and dances and tea with suitors, so she gives it up.

When Henry is little, he’s a prolific little artist. He scribbles and scribbles as she works at her desk, and they’re the most beautiful thing Regina’s ever seen. She laughs and kisses his cheek as he proudly holds up his latest masterpiece, and gently takes it from him and puts it up on the fridge with the other favourites, cooing praise all the while.

She remembers, sometimes, well, we can’t all be good at everything, Regina, and feels her stomach twist in humiliation even years later, and promises herself this is another way she will never allow herself to be like her mother.

Seemingly chaotic spirals of waxy colour become slightly messy colouring book pages – delightfully disordered as Henry colours inside the lines as best he can but takes creative liberties: blue Spiderman, green sky, pink dog, all boldly unapologetic like happy children are. “Mommy, help,” he pipes up one day during one of their Saturday Granny's breakfasts, and spreads out his crayons across the table and Regina freezes for a half-second before picking up the red.

She puts the new art up on the fridge with alphabet magnets and puts the old ones carefully into a box. Later, she’s grateful she had the foresight to save everything, because during that awful year she returns to it on the worst nights. After he finds out about the adoption in the worst way possible and gets stuck on fairy tales, Henry demands she takes everything off the fridge in a fit of anger and pre-teen embarrassment, and so those go in the box too. Between snarling fights with his birth mother and shaking panic, Regina spends all too much time gazing over those pages of childish shapes until her vision is swimming and all she can see is a garish blur.

• 

• 

They never pick up their comfortable colouring sessions after everything gets better again. Henry gets too old, too preoccupied with being a hero or the author or college or adventures, and Regina mourns it.

She fills her house with expensive paintings, artisanal prints of mythology, illustrations of plants in an attempt to fill the hole, make it warmer on those nights he’s gone. Her favourite is a huge horse painting that hangs above her fireplace and Regina imagines maybe she would have painted something similar if she’d been allowed the time, the encouragement to learn.

And once, in the Underworld after trying and failing to sleep curled up on one of the couches, she tries. The injured horse from earlier had stuck in her mind, had looked so much like her Rocinante but wasn’t, and the loft is dim, silent but for soft snores of Snow and Charming close by. Beyond a few minutes in the bathroom here and there it’s the closest to privacy Regina has had since they got here.

Enough for her to pick up a scrap of paper and pencil and hunch over the coffee table to draw. Regina tries to remember the arc of her steed’s neck, the angles of his muzzle, the soft fuzz at his chin, and sketches until her hand aches and her eyes grow tired.

It’s bad, but it’s not awful. She feels calmer, in the dark where no one can see her failure, mother long gone. She stares at the dark shapes meant to be his eyes, the glint and it’s off but she feels sixteen again, bringing the outside inside with her. And she feels tired, at last. Slowly, Regina lays back down under the soft blanket and allows herself this small ounce of serenity.

• 

• 

In Seattle, she is Roni and owns a bar and dresses in leather and old denim. She has pain – a failed adoption, an uncaring mother, an absent father, streetwise beyond her years and more loneliness than she knows what to do with, oh yes, she has pain. But the curse has taken away specific old agonies of forced marriage and murdered lovers and a mother who abuses and shames, and she might be relieved if only she knew that she’d forgotten anything.

Roni doesn’t remember never being enough in any way at all, being groomed for marriage and marriage only, denied the simple pleasures of hobbies or friends, and she’s something of a fixer-upper – handy enough to maintain the pub, physical and creative in a way Mayor Mills hadn’t ever been. Not to mention financially fucked. She can’t spare the cash for Regina’s extensive designer wardrobe even if she could stomach the idea of fast fashion.

So she does the next best thing – cuts up her tees, alters the fit with simple stitching, and one day when she has a spare few hours after a relatively slow shift, she picks up a set of cheap paints and goes to town on a jacket sitting in the back of her closet. After hours hunched over the jacket, a couple of cold beers, and a few loud spins of the Ramones, her mind is clear and her body pleasantly tired. The paint dries, and she marvels at her newly personalised jacket, adorned with tasteful flowers, unique to her, and for once, there’s no insecurity.

•

•

When Roni remembers and becomes Regina again, she admires the jacket hanging on the back of her door, trails her fingertips over the paint before finally slipping it on. Her cursed self had surprisingly done quite a good job and it’s hers and she won’t waste a perfectly comfortable jacket. (Zelena comments, one day, nudges her gently when she gets a closer look and sees the slight imperfections of a hand-paint job. “Never knew you had an artistic side, ‘Gina,” and Regina rolls her eyes and snaps a towel playfully after her, says “I don’t,” but has to hide her flushed cheeks.)

Robyn arrives in Seattle, tall and grown now, if a little rougher around the edges – her fault and in hindsight maybe the ticket to Amsterdam she hadn’t even run past Zelena had been a bad idea, much like the spellbook she’d passed on because we all experimented, Zelena. Robyn is brave and kind and funny, though, had never succumbed to the darkness or to vices like they both had even given the chance. She’s doing well, besides being, y’know, cursed, and some evenings, that bright-eyed, wild-haired girl Tilly – Alice – comes to visit and they exchange soft touches and warm smiles. (It reminds Regina painfully of a different blonde lost to her, and she turns her face down and pours out a shot.)

While Robyn dries glasses or wipes down the counter, Alice splits her time gazing at her girlfriend and hunching over a notebook, writing and doodling. Regina had seen over her shoulder once by accident, the pages and pages of loopy handwriting and beautiful drawings of stormy seas and far-off dream-realms (real, if only Alice would make the connection she’s so close to). And when Robyn gets off shift, they sit side by side and Alice explains each drawing with glinting eyes. “What about you? What do you dream about?” Alice asks, and so Robyn picks up a pencil and tentatively tries to illustrate a dreamt childhood filled with magic and mythical beasts.

(The curse breaks and for a short time, they all sit in Roni’s bar aware of what they mean to one another. Robyn smiles softly and says, “I remember when you and mom would colour with me, Aunt Regina,” and slides two pages across the bar counter towards the two witches. Regina’s mouth closes around a silent protest and she smiles too, exchanges a soft look with her sister, and grabs a purple pencil.)

•

•

The realms are united, and everyone is back together. Everything is good.

Regina sucks in a breath as she stands in one of the castle towers, looking over the kingdom. She still has her mansion, but occasionally, she likes to come up here and allow the treetops and winding rivers to clear her mind.

She sits down on a wooden stool near the window, brought up here especially for today. Actually, all of this had been acquired very discretely, just for her today. She could have summoned it, but she’s really trying to not use magic lazily these days and the ritual of gathering everything had been strangely soothing.

In front of her is a wooden easel and a small table laden with paints – oils, like she’d used as a girl, and fluffy brushes and spirit for rinsing. The blank canvas is terribly intimidating, but Regina keeps her breathing steady and reminds herself no one has to see if it turns out bad, this is just for her. To see if she can still, if it’s still as fun as she remembers. She picks up a brush and dips the tip in the pale blue and begins to work.

The time passes easily, and as the hours slip by the sky begins to turn pink, the sun warm and red and all the colours changing too fast to keep working. That’s about the time that the door creaks, and in comes Emma, a small quirk of a smile on her lips and blonde hair tumbling down her back. “How’s it going?” she murmurs, and Regina nods.

“I missed this,” she admits and surveys her work with her bottom lip between her teeth.

The blonde grins, and steps forward, her head tilted – “Can I see?”

Emma is tentative, always careful and considerate in these quiet moments despite her naturally chaotic state, and so Regina nods again, and breathes steadily. Arms wrap around her waist and a cheek rests on her shoulder as the blonde gazes at the painting, and for a long moment Regina is half-expecting disappointment or a stilted falsity.

Emma just makes this dragged out ohh sound though and tightens her embrace. “That’s really good, Regina, you never said you were good,” and Regina flushes deeply and shushes her, would maybe chuck something small and light at her if she wasn’t enjoying this hug so much.

“It’s just – practice,” Regina excuses, and lightly pushes away to spin and take Emma into her own arms, their eyes meeting. “But thank you.” She cups Emma’s jaw and brings her down to kiss her lightly, sweetly, awing all the while at how they finally got here. Her other hand trails down Emma’s cheek, and the woman feels slight wetness and whines, “Reg-ina.”

Regina smirks as Emma rubs at the smudge of wet emerald green on her cheek, only spreading it even more. “I’m so gonna get you for that,” the sheriff says with a childish grin and flicks a brush still covered in purple paint at her lover.

The paint splatters over Regina’s browbone and she gasps and then laughs, “Emma,” as she grabs ineffectually for the brush that Emma holds high above her head. Emma jumps back, bright laughter ringing against the stone walls, and her eyes are bright. Regina’s chest feels light looking at her, lunging for the brush again until she gives up and picks up a brush of her own. Emerald eyes widen and Emma murmurs a warning, backing up and still grinning until she hits the stone wall.

Regina closes in on her, presses against her, and then her sly smirk drops. Her hand closes around Emma’s wrist, pinning it as she leans in and brings their lips together tenderly. The kiss heats up, Emma moaning into her open mouth and flicking her tongue teasingly against red lips, and the brushes drop to the floor with a clatter.

And maybe they’ll regret this little paint fight when it comes time to clean up, but Regina thinks, this is what creativity, art is supposed to be like – serene solace, laughing with her lover over spilt paint, colouring with her son, drawing dreams with her family. They part, their breath huffing warm and unsteady, and she is contemplative, meeting Emma’s eyes and trailing her thumb over the woman’s plump lower lip. She’s beautiful, glowing in the soft sunset. Regina feels good and breathes into the space between them, “I think I know what I want to paint next.”

#once upon a time #regina mills #swan queen #henry mills #regal believer #emma swan #alice ouat #robyn #zelena #zelena mills #wicked queen #regina/emma #regina + henry #alice/robyn #rated t #fluff #family #2019 #im not sure what the best format for posting fic is like.....i rly wanna be using this blog for interacting more but it's so hard lmao #im so out of tumblr practice #oneshot #character study