dusty curtains

laughter and the smell of sugar twirled in the air and the lights of the festival twinkled like colorful, bulbous stars. those lights seemed to shine in alec’s wide, childlike eyes as he drank it all up, an awestruck smile on his face that made magnus’ heart sigh and the urge to kiss him almost unbearable. he pulled him along and through the crowd, alec’s hand cool and a huge contrast to the warm tokyo atmosphere. the absolute wonder that alec was exuberating was so endearing and sweeter than the ice cream cone he was currently eating.

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anonymous asked:

2/d Reacts to his s/o hearing murdoc say something mean to him and they then come in to see what all the fuss is about and they use their silver tongue to get reallyyy close to the angry pickle before turning and RKO'ing him straight onto the linoleum.

A/N: i write this with tears in my eyes

  • Everyone was already sitting somewhere in the kitchen, eating whatever they could find for breakfast when you woke up. The yelling coming from the kitchen woke you up, and you could instantly recognize 2D and Murdoc’s voices going at each other.
  • You lazily make your way into the kitchen, hearing Murdoc in the middle of insulting 2D, “Mate, you sound like a sodding dying seal in bed, I’m tired of hearing that shit every night.”
  • 2D purses his lips sheepishly for a moment before opening his mouth to speak but your voice cuts him off, “At least he can get some. ”
  • Silence passes over everyone. 2D looks at the two of you nervously, sweat forming on his forehead, Noodle glances up at you two from sipping her tea, and Russel looks up from his newspaper at Murdoc who is utterly speechless. 
  • His mouth hangs open for a moment before the two of you engage in an intense verbal battle, spitting exaggerated insults at each other.
  • “The garbage truck came by this morning, you missed your ride.”
  • “You smell like rusty coins, when was the last time you took a bath?”
  • “At least I take a bath.”
  • “Yeah, like once a year. You always smell like rat poison.”
  • 2D, Noodle, and Russel look back and forth between you two as you insult each other in any way possible. Murdoc insults you pretty badly and you hold your hands up in defeat, turning to walk away. He thinks he’s won, until you come back at him at full force, grabbing his shoulders to throw him onto the floor.
  • “Oh shit,” Noodle and Russel get up from their seats, peering over the table to see if he was alive. You huff and grab 2D’s arm before leaving the kitchen.
  • Murdoc slowly rises from the floor, Noodle and Russel exchange a quick glance before they begin roasting him.
  • “Boi, you sleep with a fucking shower curtain, you dusty ass.”
  • “You put lettuce in the blender and drink that shit for breakfast.”

fin uwu

this isn’t meant to be taken seriously lmao

a concept: every now and then the bandmembers roast the shit out of murdoc, just for fun probably while getting high together we all saw that cannabis in the kitchen

totally inspired by those instagram roast videos by @mikedafool 


Wrote this a while back in March when Divide by Ed Sheeran just came out, and BOY DID ‘SAVE MYSELF’ HIT ME WITH FEELS FOR JASON! Technically the song doesn’t even relate to this story, but it was my original inspiration until my imagination flew somewhere else.

Jason has forgotten a lot of things in his two lifetimes.

When he was 5, he forgot to wipe his feet at the doormat, running so quickly into the house that he tracked the filth of the streets in. He received an earful from his mother, she said the house is the one thing she wants to be clean, “free of the dirt of the Alley.” Jason didn’t understand what she meant.

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The Potion Brewer

The necromancer had been pondering visiting the quaint potion shop for quite some time. It resided by Elik’s Edge, straight across from the housing shop. The ramshackle establishment had given no illusions to its age; there were cracks in the faded bricks, and the sign, which was labeled “Lucienne’s Potions”, was weathered, and creaked with each sway of the wind. The iron pole the held the sign up was rusted, and looked as though it were to soon break in half due to erosion.  

From what she could tell, the place didn’t get many customers, as she had only ever seen a few wizards enter the shop, and each one hurriedly scampering out with their tails practically between their legs as soon as their potions had been refilled. She had heard from her fellow classmates that the shop was run by a former conjurer who had been expelled from Ravenwood due to dabbling in black magic, but whether this was true or simply another silly rumor spread by students to frighten their underclassmen remained a mystery. Despite her skepticism, however, this tale had fully piqued her curiosity.

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Mafia!AU Baekhyun Smut [Requested]


Genre: Smut

Warnings: slight slut shaming/humiliation, dominating themes, orgasm denial, and just good ol’ smut

Word Count: 2318

Keep your fucking mouth shut.” Was the first thing he whispered to you with his warm breath faintly brushing up against your flushed skin, his body pressed so tightly against yours with one hand being used to pin your hands above your head, the other with a tight grip on his gun.

The sounds of gunshots being fired off into the distance hadn’t made you flinch, especially since you’ve been tagging along in your boyfriend’s erroneous duties of illegally becoming involved with drug trades and other activities you’ve decided to keep to yourself. Baekhyun’s eyes as well were unflinching, bullets hitting the wall and flying across the worn down room while he finally leaned over the corner and shot down the last of the henchmen on your tail. He smirked to himself in satisfaction, finally letting your hands loose to fall to the side of your worn down shirt and disheveled denim jeans. Your hair was a mess from all that running, a sheen layer of sweat evident on both of you faces.

“Stay here doll. I need to make sure everything’s okay.” He commanded, as you willfully nodded your head. But just before you could even turn the other direction he had grabbed you by the wrist and leaned closely into your ear. “And go into the bedroom all the way down the hallway while you’re at it. I’d like to give you a little prize for being so obedient this entire trip. Maybe spanking you was the best thing I’ve ever done to discipline you.” Baekhyun grinned, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips before walking away and surveying the area for any more surprise attacks.

It came as a surprise to you as to how his black dress shirt and slacks were in top-shape, still accentuating his broad shoulders and every little detail you couldn’t keep your little hands off for any time longer. Your way down the hallway towards the bed room was spent biting down your bottom lip harshly, thinking about all the different ways Baekhyun took you. From feet away from perpetrators, his hand over your mouth to keep you shut from them hearing your dirty little deeds, and not to mention the way you would shamelessly beg for him to thrust harder ran through your head of yours. It was no game when it came to him, especially since his eyes became so accustomed to all of your irresistible features as well.

Your eyes wandered around the room, the bed in the middle of it with its white, dusty sheets, the curtains hanging loosely from its holdings and the amount of thrown papers and books on the ground made the place look like a robbery. And before you could even walk around and examine anymore of the contents withheld within the books, shelves, and dressers, Baekhyun had already walked into the room with his arms snaking around your waist. His enchanting and intoxicating lips pressed feather-like kisses onto your shoulder, his hands drawing closer and closer to the zipper on your denim jeans.

“You always smell so good, doll.. You’ve been so good to me, what have I done to deserve you baby girl..?” He murmured, turning you around and pressing another sloppy and erotic kiss on your swollen lips.

“I’m all yours.. Take me please, I’m begging you.” You pleaded with desirous eyes, hands running up and down his toned torso as Baekhyun growled at this. His now strong hands pushed you towards the bed, your petite frame falling against the sheets as he climbed over you and immediately undid the buttons on his dress shirt. You took this opportunity to quickly throw your shirt off, exposing your chest covered with a lace bra.

“Oh baby..” He groaned, relishing in the beautiful sight and burying his face into your fleshy mounds and planting kisses onto them. “Beautiful.. Every inch of you is so beautiful, doll..” Baekhyun whispered, now leaving a trail of kisses from your breasts and up to the nape of your neck. His mouth left marks, hickeys to blossom later and as well as a way to ward off any possible on-lookers. And you knew all too well that Baekhyun had a delirious hatred for any man who turned to look at you when you were all for him and only him—not that you were complaining, there wasn’t any man who made you felt as good as Baekhyun did.

He now took this time to finally undo your zipper, sliding down the denim material and indulging in the beautiful lace sight that was your lingerie. Baekhyun licked his lips seductively, his bottom lip being caught in his teeth as he continued to eye you up and down while you looked up at him pleadingly. The sight of you so ready, so pleading for him to take you turned him on; followed by how beautifully tainted you were for him—and only for him.

“Baekhyun.. please..” You whimpered pathetically, and in a desperate attempt to arouse yourself even further your hand slipped itself into your panties and began to toy with your clit. His jaw hung agape at this, the look in his eyes becoming a shade darker and glistening with lust at the lewd sight. Nothing had ever made him this madly turned on, and he was more than willing to show his token of appreciation by pushing your hand away and pulling down the lace fabric to devour your dripping arousal.

A sudden gasp left your lips, his eyes trained on your gaze down at him licking and slurping at you until you felt your head dip back in pleasure. A small smirk curled up on his lips at how your body reacted to the slightest of touches, devouring and savoring in the sweetness that was you. Suddenly, he introduced a finger to toy around with your clit as his tongue worked its way up and down your slit. You could no longer suppress your moans any longer, the way his tongues and fingers magically making you give into the tightening knot in your stomach.

However just before you could even catch your breath, two long and slender fingers entered your hole abruptly and your back arched off of the messy and dusty bed with toe-curling pleasure. Your moans came out broken and hoarse, your tongue unable to string syllables into words as Baekhyun finally moved his face back up to yours while his fingers worked wonders between your legs. Baekhyun relished in the sight of you looking so hopeless beneath his touch, vulnerable to each thrust of his beautiful long fingers and desperate for a release only he could give. And being the cocky tease he was, he playfully took a nipple into his mouth and began to slow the pace of his digits between you.

“N..no.. Baekhyun please.. D-don’t slow down..” You pleaded, clutching onto his biceps with urgency as the knot in your abdomen grew tighter and tighter. But as soon as your orgasm was about to course through your veins violently, he pulled out abruptly and slapped you across the face to humiliate you.

“Aw my poor little slut.. look at how desperate you are to cum.” Baekhyun smirked down at you, your eyes filled with tears as frustration became evident on your face. “Don’t you give me that face baby girl. You don’t want me to spank you again now do you?” He asked, whispering those tantalizing words into your ear as you desperately shook your head from side to side. Anything but that.

“Don’t punish me please..” You said, your voice weaker and smaller from how dry your throat was. He smiled down angelically at you, admiration for you evident on his face as he brought his fingers up to the light. Your cum glistened and deliciously contrasted against the sexually tense atmosphere, and abruptly, he shoved the digits into his mouth to savor more of your taste. “Baekhyun..” You whimpered, turned on madly by this gesture.

“You taste like heaven doll..” Baekhyun groaned. “Now let’s make you cum all over me. We don’t have enough time until the cops find the place ransacked now, do we?” He smirked, gesturing for you to spread your legs open as you were happy to oblige.

Baekhyun soon positioned his body between your legs, unbuckling his slacks while your eyes were trained on his outlined erection through the black fabric. You gulped, watching all of the layers of clothing come off of his toned and delicious body while he threw his clothes somewhere already forgotten. After giving his pressing erection a few experimental strokes, he finally positioned himself right at your entrance at pushed into you roughly—perhaps to have more time in you that in a jail cell.

You both immediately let out content sighs, curses leaving his lips while he dirtily complimented you with remarks regarding to how tight and how deliciously wet you were for him, while you bit down on your bottom lip harshly at how big he was. Immediately, his thrusts became very forceful, every inch of his thick and pulsing member pushing into your tight snatch and driving you closer and closer to the edge of heaven. His pants and warm breaths stroked the side of your cheek, the look of adoring lust all over his face as he continued to press kisses here and there.

As your hands wandered the skin of his back, your nails dug its way deeper and deeper in a way that made him groan out and thrust even harsher into you. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Baekhyun began to leave more hickeys onto your tainted neck while his hands roamed your chest and kneaded your breasts. He looked completely delirious in this position, his eyes darkened with lust, a sheen layer of sweat on his face while his eyes were screwed shut in how tightly your walls hugged his member.

“Baby.. H-ah… I love you..” He groaned out, spreading your legs out farther and letting his other hand wander down to you core. HIs fingers easily found your erected clit, teasing and pinching it in a way that made you squirm. “That’s it baby.. Take all of it.. Take it all..” Baekhyun growled, staring down at your vulnerable state of pure need. You shook your head from side to side, his thrusts now managing to hit your sweet spot every, single, time.

You whimpered and mewled, begging for him to slow down but you both knew that in vain—you wanted him to ruin you beyond imagination. And that’s exactly what he did when he ignored your pleads for mercy, thrusting and teasing you in a way that drove you both crazy. How softly he could kiss you, caress you in every place that made your body crave and bend to every word he spoke, and how roughly he could also handle you made your head spin. How on earth had you find such a treasure like Baekhyun? He could honestly say the same thing about you now, and the way how you took all of him and how you begged for more despite the fact you were pushed beyond your limits drove him crazy.

“N-no.. Baekhyun I’m going to.. h-ah..!” You tried to articulate words, only to fail miserably as he head-on hit you in the right place, making your world shatter apart into pieces. Baekhyun was close behind, a final groan and growl leaving his lips as he continued to shoot up white ropes of sexual frustration deep into your tightening core.

“Oh doll.. Mmmph..—” He called out, only to have your lips pressed onto his to shut him up while you continued to ride out your orgasms. Just then, however and unfortunately, the sound of sirens and flashing lights could be heard and seen, interrupting the intimate moment. “Shit, come on baby let’s get dressed. Grab all the bags by the entrance and jump out of the window. I’ll be right behind you to make sure they don’t hurt my precious darling.” Baekhyun grinned, placing a quick kiss on your lips before you both sprinted off the bed and hastily put on your clothes.

The police drew in closer, and this adrenaline rush wasn’t the only reason why you loved being with Baekhyun so much. It was something else about him that made him so irresistible to you. Something you couldn’t quite yet give up just yet. And after you quickly grabbed the bags he instructed you to grab, you already heard the policemen yelling and screaming at each other to surround the perimeter and close off any possible entrances. Too bad they didn’t know about how thoroughly planned out this escape was going to be.

Gunshots were already being fired, Baekhyun’s dress shirt still hanging unbuttoned on his shoulders as he wrapped an arm around your chest and dragged you to the window where you both jumped, possibly two stories. Despite the loud thump, the two of you began to run like madmen towards the exit point you both agreed on and hopped into the car with a loud and painful thud. He grinned over at you, starting the car and already driving off into the sunset and away from the things that held you back. Things that held the two of you back.

“What a day..” You sighed, slumping in your seat and letting a chuckle leave your lips. Baekhyun couldn’t agree anymore, and adjusted his rear-view mirror before cupping your face with his gentle hands.

“I can’t really call it a day unless I hear those pretty little moans of yours against the flashing of blue lights again now, can I?” He smirked, gesturing towards the faint image of blue flashing lights in the mirror while his hands now wandered down to the zipper of your denim jeans once again.

wow I have sinned and I must now scrub in some holy water [heavy breathing] I hope this fulfilled your expectations and that you enjoyed reading! I certainly enjoyed writing it (-; now, back to my holy water.

Admin Youngmi

it was grey, that room on that day;
the overcast sky outside was dying
to steal a peak through dusty curtains
to where you rested on the floor, lying.
you were quiet for once, your eyes fixed
on the colourful reflections of crystals
provided by the chandelier high above;
hot breath in the cold air spelled it out
your initials.

you were sombre on that day, for once,
for all. when it ended it felt almighty,
like an angel’s call; like an angel’s fall

but only one can be true, with sweet mourning due

FallOutLander: The Divided Kingdom 2

Chapter 2

Angus led Claire through the courtyard and into the castle. It was as if stepping through time. Without electric lights of temperature control, fires raged in every corner glowing orange against the dank, gray stone. It was the most homey building she had stepped in since the Vault. It was obviously lived in, and obviously well maintained.

Angus stopped in front of an ornate door, golden filigree snaking its expanse. He turned to her.

“This is the Laird’s room.”

“And, what exactly, is a Laird?” She had never heard of such a title. Perhaps the term went further back than her history texts.

“He’s in charge. Like a lord, or duke.” He shrugged. “Perhaps he could be compared to a sheriff or mayor.”

“Ah.” Angus opened the door, motioning for her to enter.

The room was good sized, large windows lining the walls with natural light. It was old, obviously, just like the rest of the castle. Wallpaper was tearing from the walls, the curtains dusty and faded. But, it must have been a beautiful place long ago.

In the center of the room was a large desk, dark wooded and more modern than anything else in the room. The man behind it looked small in comparison. He was pale and wrinkled, his gray hair falling past his shoulders. He glanced toward them as they entered.

“Yes?” Claire felt herself shrink under his gaze, his eyes steely in attitude and color.

“This is Claire,” Angus explained. “She’s a doctor. Says she can help us.”

“Leave us.”


Claire fidgeted under his scrutiny. Without saying a word, he seemed to know her inside and out.

“Weel, Claire. My name is Colum MacKenzie. Laird, though I suppose ye knew that. What’s yer story then?”

“I’m… A traveller. I have skills. I would like to use them for good.”

“Where do ye come from?” Claire hated this question. Her answer always made people see her differently. People from Vaults are weak and stupid, they’d say. People from Vaults don’t know how the real world is, they’d say. Sometimes Claire would lie, say from some distant place by the sea. But, she felt as if he already knew her answer…

“From a Vault. I was a doctor there.” He raised his eyebrows in response, but not in surprise.

“And, ye think yer Vault learning can be useful here?”

“It hasn’t failed me yet.” The grin that spread across his lips looked so odd on his stern face.

“Weel, Doctor Claire. Yer in luck, it seems. Our doctor died recently. Old age. So, we need someone to take his place.”

“Sir, I don’t plan on staying for very–”

“Ye’ll stay and help. Or ye can leave straight away.” That was it. Her ultimatum.

She stayed seated.


In the hall, Claire was relieved of her bonds by Angus. Sawing through the rope, he spoke.

“Yer lucky, I guess. Colum isn’t always sae kind.”

“Is that what you call it?” Claire mumbled, not meaning for him to hear.

“I wouldna be sae angry at a man that just saved ye.”

“Saved me? I would have been all right.” It was a lie, and they both knew it.

“Aye. Okay, Doctor. Come with me.”

He led her through the flame-lit corridors, the thump of their boots echoing through the walls.

“Where is everyone?”

“Either in bed or the kitchen. Kitchen’s to the right, by the way. In case ye need something.”

They winded through the halls of the castle, ending in the very back corner. This corner was the reserved for the ward, apparently. The ward was long and rectangular, at least 20 small cots lining the walls.

“Yer bedroom’s in the back.” Angus pointed to the back of the ward, to a door. “This is yer area. Any questions?”

“No, thank you.” Angus nodded his head, and left, leaving Claire alone to absorb her new situation.


The next three days passed uneventfully for Claire. A couple scrapes and bruises came through the ward, but nothing of note needed her attention. She kept to herself; sleeping, eating the food she put back, and mixing medicinals for future hypothetical patients. She saw no need to socialize. She was only here to work.

On the fourth day, Claire was becoming restless. In such a secure place, the inhabitants rarely needed tending. It was less work for Claire. Fewer activities to fill her time.

“Ma’am? Ma’am!” She turned toward the door where a young man was running through, panicked. “Are ye the new doctor?”

“Yes. Are you alright?” She stepped over to him, looking him over in the process. He seemed to be in perfect health. No blood stains. Nice color. Standing steady.

“Nay… it isn’t…me. It’s Jamie…ken?” He spoke slowly through labored breath. “They’re…bringing him in. Wanted to make sure….ye were here.”

“Breath, now. Where are they? What happened?” She was preparing, mentally and physically. She poured an alcohol solution on her hands, and began sanitizing.

“They’re coming. Should be close. Wanted me to run ahead to make sure ye were here. It was a Deathclaw. Ye’ve seen them, aye?”

Deathclaw. One of the largest, fiercest beasts in the Wasteland. Towering at 10 feet tall, it walked on its hind legs. It’s front legs were used for attack. The Deathclaw didn’t get its name randomly. Its claws were the length of a man’s arm. Claire had seen bodies in the Wasteland, sliced in half by these animals.

“Yes, yes. How? How did it happen?” Before the boy could speak, a group of five rushed in, carrying a man above their heads. “Set him down over there!”

She herself rushed to the man lying on the cot. Pale as death, the only color that remained on him was the dark red bloodstain on his shirt, and the dark red hair to match. She leaned over, placing her hands on his face. His eyes barely cracked.

“Jamie, is it?” He groaned in response. “Jamie, I’m Doctor Beauchamp. I’m going to take care of you.” She aimed her next question to the small man beside her. “What happened?”

“Damn beast snuck up on us outside the gate. Caught Jamie in the stomach.” The man seemed indifferent to the situation, but the tight line of his mouth and the shine of worry in his black eyes told her differently.

“I’ll do my best.”

Claire began lifting away Jamie’s shirt, revealing the wound. It was a wound she never wanted to see. A three inch wide gash spanned the length of his stomach. She could see the organs inside, pulsating pink. How he hadn’t died yet was a miracle.

But it was fatal.

She turned to the worried man. She knew he could see the regret and sadness shining in her eyes. He shook his head.

“No. No!” She pulled him aside, away from the dying man.

“It’s fatal. A stomach wound. There’s nothing I can do for him.”

Nothing she could do. Unless… Unless…

She left the man frozen as she ran to her medicinals. She hadn’t used this but three times, and never in a wound so serious. But, he was dying anyway. It was worth a try.
“Turn him on his side!” The men did as they were bid. Claire bent down, rucking down Jamie’s trousers to reveal fleshy backside. She pulled the enormous syringe out of her belt, the metallic liquid thick and viscous.

She plunged it into his skin, and pushed.

He cried out. She rolled him back over on his back, and checked his wound.

She watched as, before her eyes, the muscle began knitting itself back together. Small threads of skin attached to each other, effectively closing the wound. His flesh grew pinker and pinker to a healthy shade, and his eyes popped open.


“I call it a Direct Stimulation Package.” His eyes flew to her. They were blue, she noticed. “It’s my own creation. It’s a healing medicinal, almost instantaneous.” She felt all of the eyes on her then.

“I–I–Thank ye, Doctor.” Jamie spoke with sincerity. He melted in the cot, exhausted from the pain.

“It’s my job. But I would like you to stay here for a few days so I can monitor you.”

“Aye. So long as I can sleep.”

anonymous asked:

Do you think you could write about young Sirius and Remus dancing and freaking out together to some fun rock song and then post-Azkaban, slow dancing to some old romantic song? I love your writing btw <3

  • “Aw, c’mon Moon’s! I love this song!”
  • “’m studying. Let me be, would you?” Remus shook his head, keeping his eyes firmly on the papers in front of him, but couldn’t help the grin slowly pulling at the corners of his mouth.
  • Sirius collapsed into the chair next to his, grasping both of Remus’ hands so suddenly that Remus’ ink wobbled dangerously.
  • Remus glared at Sirius, “Pads, if you cost me my essay-”
  • But he cut off because Sirius’ eyes were shining and he had that lopsided grin on his face that melted Remus’ heart,
  • “C’mon Re. Be a mate.”
  • Remus scoffed, pulling his hands from Sirius’, “Certainly not of that’s what you want to call me.” He huffed, shuffling his papers, “Mate… don’t know how mate-like I was this morning with my bleeding head between your legs-”
  • Sirius let out a loud laugh, large hand covering Remus’ mouth momentarily before replacing it with his lips in a short kiss.
  • The kiss proved to be just enough distraction for him to pull Remus from his chair and into the middle of the common room, “Come on my one and only love, then.” He gave a sharp tug on Remus’ hands and suddenly they were flush together, lips inches apart, “dance with me, Moony.”
  • And really, how was Remus suppose to say no to that?
  • All thoughts of studying were lost to the bass line, previous worries forgotten and replaced by the slightly cheesy lyrics.
  • Remus grinned, spinning Sirius out and the back with a tug, right to his chest.
  • His heart gave a warm tug at the way Sirius threw his head back, squinting his eyes closed and laughed.
  • Again and again they spun and stepped on each other’s feet without a care in the world…

  • The curtains were dusty. The floor was dusty, the windows were dusty, hell, everything was dusty in the Black household.
  • Even the radio sounded as if it had little dust mites in its speakers, making the sound crackly and slightly fogged.
  • But that didn’t stop Remus from recognizing the old song right way.
  • He immediately looked to Sirius, who was sitting on the opposite couch, to see if he heard too, but Sirius had not moved.
  • Remus didn’t think Sirius had moved much all week.
  • He was in despair, hating being cooped up here. He sat in front of the fire day and night, waiting for anyone to come with news, waiting to hear about anything other than his reality.
  • Even Remus being here didn’t seem to phase him. Not when they couldn’t go out.
  • Remus frowned, setting his tea down.
  • He couldn’t stand that look on Sirius’ face anymore.
  • He stood, crossing the molded carpet in two strides and held his hand out.
  • Sirius started a little, blinking slowly at the hand then up at Remus.
  • “C’mon Pads.” Remus smiled a little, hopefully, “You know the song.”
  • Sirius’ head tilted slightly, listening, and Remus watched recognition dawn on his face,
  • “Sixth year… My birthday..” He mumbled.
  • Remus grinned, “That’s right, love.” He reached down for Sirius’ hands, taking both in his own and pulling Sirius up.
  • He walked backwards until they were in the middle of the room and then pulled Sirius right to his chest. He let out a breathy laugh, “Never thought it’d be me getting you to dance…”
  • A small smile lit up Sirius’ face as he gently wrapped his arms around Remus’ neck, “Quite a change, isn’t it?”
  • Remus started waltzing them slowly in small circles, “Not a bad one though.”
  • It seemed the more they danced the more Sirius’ face lit up, the more they spun the more the years seemed to fall away, the worry and heartache.
  • But the end of the song they were both grinning and their foreheads were pressed together.
  • “Still got it.” Sirius complemented himself, earning a soft slap from Remus.
  • Sirius just laughed, “C’mon Moons. Think we need something a little more upbeat.”

I can’t decide if this makes me happy or sad…

First [ a frexy fanfic ]

          [ warning: this is smut! ]

             Darkness blanketed the pizzeria. As the last janitor picked up their mop and tossed it into a nearby bucket, the animatronics seated on the stage stared quietly into the distance. The janitor sighs, wiping the back of their hand on their forehead and tugging along their cart into the storage room. They take out a ring of keys, taking their time locking the room and any other entrance doors. Finally, they leave the freshly cleaned building, the shine of car lights and the hum of an engine fading into the distance.

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As the Fog Clears

Miraculous Winter Sonata AU.

| First | Previous | Next |


On his first trip to Paris, Felix Agreste saw the city as he might have seen any other city in a country he’d never visited: completely foreign. He kept to pre-planned routes and did not wander. Nothing stood out as familiar. He even missed his train.

Now he tried not to think about how he knew where the back alleys would take him, or what the views from the tops of certain buildings looked like when he’d never been inside them. He stared at Marinette’s map and tried not to think about how he knew Paris more intimately than he’d ever known New York City.

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Invisible - Part Four

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

“There is no one home” you say hesitantly. That small statement in itself sent small chills down Yoongi’s spine. From what was visible in the darkness of your home seemed more or less like a defined cage of horror and nothingness.  You turn to see him still standing in the same position, not daring to move a step. Rather going home, Yoongi couldn’t wire himself to move an inch as all the possible scenarios ran through his head.

“Are you going to come in or are you just gonna stand there looking at me funny?” you ask annoyed. The question seemed to snap Yoongi into consciousness as he began to climb up the stairs and slowly entering the home as if he were an undercover detective. It took Yoongi a second as his eyes tried to focus in the darkness of the long hallway.

Most homes usually had it’s own scent; a way to signify that everyday life was present, but all yoongi could get a wiff of was the faint smell of warped wood and drywall. Even without the smell, Yoongi still couldn’t make out not one square shape hanging from the walls in the dark that defined past memories of familyhood.

You dreaded the long hallway and the questions that were sure to come but you were tired of hiding them. Soon as you both trailed into the livingroom, you flipped the light switch causing yoongi to wince from the sudden impact. For an empty house, everything sat in it’s place untouched from what yoongi could lay his eyes upon.

You watched from the corner of your eyes as he wandered in place, not sure how to react. His eyes seemed to hit each corner of the living room but instead his face remained blank.

“Care for anything to drink?”. Not that you had much to offer nor were you used to ever offering in such a position like this, but you knew it was the polite thing to do as well as an easier way to break the silence. Yoongi could only shake his head in response as he was becoming more uneasy. Accepting it as it was, you ambled you way over to the armchair, but not once did he move an inch from his standpoint.

“If you’re going to just stand there like that, you might as well go home” you mumbled while hugging your knees to your chest, snapping Yoongi back to consciousness. Walking as if the floor may crack at any given second, Yoongi took a seat across from you on the loveseat.

“When are your parents getting home?” it was one of many questions that yoongi had racing around in his head.

“You don’t get it” you began, forcing yourself to look in his direction. “There is no one home and there is no one coming home. I’m alone” you hugged your legs tighter. Just hugging your legs became almost as a shield, keeping your composure together.

You expected shock and sympathy to be written on yoongi’s face but instead you received a brick wall and a nod. He could see the hurt in your eyes but not once would he dare force you to tell him other than what you were willing. Because he didn’t have to. Looking at you now he could see that there was something different. Other than hatred that had always been clear from the beginning of this mess, for the first time he actually saw a crack forming in the protective steel walls you had built for yourself . No matter how small the portion, you were vulnerable right now.  

“It wasn’t always like this” you began, breaking the deep silence that began the thicken the air in the room. Apart of you wanted to stop, because you knew if you started speaking you wouldn’t stop until you spilled all, but another knew that was exactly what you needed. “My dad took his last breath before I could take my first. Times were hard for me and my mother growing up but she did the best she could. Although I know she loved me dearly there was still a void I could never fill.” you paused, each word feeling as thorns rising from your chest.

“Around four years ago she met a guy, he made her happy and I thought we could finally be a happy family but that was just a thought.” anger began rising in you chest as the memories still laid fresh in your mind. Yoongi waited for you to continue as his own imagination began to think of what could possibly have gone wrong.

“Instead of using his hands to protect me and the women he so desperately seemed to love, it became his most powerful weapon. Day in and day out I had to listen to my mom cries in agony from the pain that just wouldn’t stop, but not once did she even try to make it. Love seemed to brainwash her into believing hurt was love. It actual took for him to hurt me for her to see the difference. But not long after he was out of the picture, she found a new source of love. Alcohol. The pain and guilt she felt became too much but sooner or later facing me each day became harder. Leaving me here alone seemed to be the only right thing in her mind to redeem herself but little did she know this is when I needed her most" you sniveled, forcing the tears back.

It didn’t matter to you if Yoongi was listening or not. You just opening up, what you kept confined was more so for yourself than it was for him. You needed to get this off of your chest and it was a small weight lifted off your shoulders doing so. Yoongi tried to compress his own rising anger. Just the thought of such a human being capable of causing such pain and knowing that he was still out there somewhere made him sick to his stomach. It began kicking up some of his own horror stories as he watched you fight to not fall apart. You were a weak person pretending to be strong just like he was and you desperately needed to know that you weren’t alone.

“My own father- or rather yet sperm donor was far out of the picture before walking was even a possible equation. Other than the scratched up pictures my mom could find of that man, I’ve never seen him a day in my life.” Yoongi bitterly scoffed under his breath. You turned to see Yoongi still sitting in the love cheer, but this time scrunched down staring at the floor. You had almost forgot that he was even still there until the shake in his voice shook you back to reality.

“It’s always been me and my mother. Usually kids would gladly go to the amusement parks with their dad or just something simple as getting picked up from school,  but for me that had always been my mom. She played both roles throughout my entire life and not once has she ever complained. After middle school I found a love for music. Everything I touch and feel turns into a song. It was as if I could feel it running through me from my fingertips anytime I got near it. But just as it became my love, it also became my nightmare.” Yoongi finally looked up, looking deeply in your eyes, letting his words sink in.

“As much as I hated that man I found out later that he had been a musician. Funny how DNA works isn’t it. The only thing that man could ever given me was my love for music” yoongi shook his head. “After finding out I swore I’d never touch another instrument again. But the only time my mom seemed to smile the brightest was when I did produce music, so how could I stop?” Yoongi fought himself inside for an answer to his unanswerable question.

Yoongi couldn’t bare to hold back his own tears as he searched for the answer that you didn’t possess. Sooner or later you were brought to your feet because you couldn’t stand seeing him like this. This wasn’t Yoongi who was by fault Jin’s friend and a boy you got stuck tutoring because of his reputation of bad grades. No, he was Min Yoongi, a boy lost and trapped in his own depression just like you were.

You walk towards him taking a seat next to him on the couch, pulling him into your embrace. Yoongi was taken back by your sudden bold move but nonetheless cried harder into your shoulder. Neither one of you knew who needed the hug more. It didn’t matter at that point who he was or affiliated with, all you knew was that you weren’t alone.

Dawn seemed to sweep over the night sky before you either one of you saw. You found yourself waking shortly after as the strong rays of the sun came visible through the dusty ripped curtains that hung in the livingroom. Forcing your eyes open, you sat up rubbing away last night’s tears that you hadn’t remembered ever falling. Lying not far away was Yoongi positioned on the couch. Sighing, you began shaking his side. It seemed as a misfortune to wake him from such a peaceful standpoint. Sooner or later his eyes began to flicker open as he forced himself to sit up right.

“Hey” Yoongi said, his voice a little hoarse as he rubbed his eyes. You nodded slowly with a slight wave as you stood shuffling your feet to the shower.

It wasn’t the ideal plan to have a boy spend the night at your dump of a place especially on a school night. Just thinking about what people would assume if they were to find out made your stomach turn. It irritated you that you still at this point cared about with others thought.

Huffing as you exited the shower and began to dress. Searching through your dresser you find a grey oversized men’s shirts you had bought for a simple sleepwear. You shrug it off hoping he wouldn’t mind and just accept the thought behind it. After all it wasnt your fault that he spent the night on his own.You grabbed an extra towel and wash rag while you were at it before heading back the living room.

Yoongi seemed more awake this time along but not by much as he ruffled through his fringe. You handed him the the things you scavenge for. Thanking you, Yoongi headed to the bathroom to freshen up. As you waited you let the night before replay in your head. Who would have thought you of all people would have a guy over, especially a guy like Min Yoongi. It wasn’t rocket science that he was handsome - maybe even more than Jin, but that would have a been a debate you were sure to lose. There was no need in comparing the two. Jin was as handsome as you would expect any magazine model the be. But for Yoongi, the more you talked to him and the more you were in his presence, the more his features became more prominent.

You trotted to the small kitchen to find pots and a frying pan that never had a meaning in your house until today. It made you feel warm inside to be cooking not only for yourself but someone else. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a home cooked meal or shared one for that matter.

Yoongi got out of the shower quickly putting on the fresh clothes that were given to him and he exited the bathroom. Letting his nose guide him, he walking into the kitchen just as you began decorating the counter with two plates of scrambled eggs and bacon. It wasn’t much but it still brought a smile to his face.

Sitting across from you, you both ate quietly to yourselves. Every once in awhile you’d find your eyes wandering anxiously to the clock. Time waited for no one and sooner than later you both would get left behind.

“What are you doing” Yoongi said in between bites of bacon, staring at you as you would any loonatic.

You glance at the clock once more knowing that you were already more that ten minutes too late. “You think if we leave now we’ll make it to second period before anyone notices?”

“Well gee Y/N, I don’t know do think we are made out of glass?”

“Well I don’t know can you pass algebra?” you raise your eyebrow. Yoongi’s twisted up his face as he hints that you were hitting low blows but at the same time was also impressed by it.

He sank lower into his chair while folding his arms against his chest “I’m working on that”.

“Exactly why we need to leave now. Besides finals are right around the corner” you say while grabbing yours as well as Youngi’s empty plates. Just as you were, you felt his hands tangle around your own.

“Please. Just this once let’s just forget about school. I don’t feel like dealing with the stares and questions. I just can’t - not like this.” yoongi begged. Honestly you felt the same as he did. After such an emotional night you were drained but you refused t be stuck in this house.

“Fine then let’s go to the library”

Yoongi shut his eyes as his frustration was beginning to show. “Are you seriously still thinking about about education in a time like this”

“Do you want to pass your classes”

“Yea but can’t that wait till another time?”

“We’re leaving now” you state, grabbing your things.

For the most part, walking with Yoongi seemed as peaceful as an autumn breeze. That was only when he wasn’t complaining. Even while complaining he had all the freedom to turn around and go home but not once had he chosen to.

Complaining was the only way for him to not so openly allow you to see how much he enjoyed being dragged alongside you. He was like a child but the only difference was you could give a kid candy and he’ll shut up. But you were already in your own daze trying to wrap your own head around life. Never had you so openly been one to talk about your personal life. Even writing in a simple journal made you uneasy by the fact that someone could effortlessly read through it. But now that a person rather than a thing knew all your dark secrets; you didn’t know how to adjust.

“Here” yoongi offered. Another headphone placed before you, only this time you didn’t reject. The song was different from the last but there was no denying that it was the same artist. You let your worries drift away and you allowed to melody to speak to you. Soon as the song stopped you felt as you were reaching for the last tangled notes to hold to long just a little longer.

“Seriously, who is this guy”

Yoongi smiles, probably one of the biggest smiles you’ve ever seen from him. “You’re looking at him” he scratched the back of his neck as you approached the library. Pride washed over him as you looked at him astonished. He had stated he was a producer but you had never thought he was ever this good.

Walking into the library, you placed your things on the same table as you did the night before. It almost seemed as if clockwork while you handed him a few math equations and began your own personal studies.

You felt yourself losing focus when quietly stealing glances his way became more constant. He was the most focus you’d ever seen him. Even if this was strictly education you couldn’t get your mind off of his talents. Why it wasn’t boasted about and known throughout the school halls were beyond your answerable reach. But then it dawned on you. Music was something he had only shared with his mother, but why you and why now?

You must have been eyeing him too long because his next move left you flushed. He already noticed you off tasked but you being more careless lead to him being more brave. Leaning over the desk, only inches away from your face he stared into your crystal eyes. You had almost forgotten how to breath as you began to lean further back in your chair to further the distance between you two that he created, but it only brought him closer.

“I finished” he whispered before sliding back into his chair and sliding his paper in front of you feeling confident. You cleared your throat as the room seemed to grow hotter than usual as you looked over his work. It amused him how shy you were growing by just a simple act but the longer you stared at his paper, the less confident he felt.

“Well the bright news is that the first one is actually right” you say. Yoongi jumps out of his seat feeling accomplished. “But the second one is wrong”

“You’re lying” Yoongi objects, throwing himself back into the chair in defeat.

“Sorry but I’m not one to lie” you throw your hands up in protest.

“Then what’s the answer”

“You’re going to be so mad when I tell you” you laugh. Quite frankly Yoongi didn’t find a joke in this. “It’s -36. You forgot the negative sign”.

Yoongi was becoming more frustrated and irritated with your teasing. He wasn’t use to trying this hard just for anything. Seeing this you grab your things and circle around to sit next to him.

“Here try out these problems”  you say as you write a few down.

You began to feel yourself drifting off even though you tried to focus on your own task. Saddly learning about ionic compounds and valence electrons just didn’t have enough energy at this point to keep your eyes open. You try to reposition yourself in the chair until you noticed Yoong’s pen no longer moving. He was in a deep stare for what seemed more a minute and you figured it was time to speak up.“Stuck?” you ask but all he does is shake his head. “Then what is it?”

Yoongi finally looked up from his paper meeting your gaze.

“I don’t want things to change. Yesterday when we both opened up, it was something I’ve never done before and I’m more than sure it’s the same for you.” Yoongi’s lips came slightly apart as his gaze became unfocused. Neither one off you noticed how close you were at this moment. It seemed exactly right to close the distance between you two. To close his eyes and press his mouth to yours. Soft and gentle,Yoongi pressed back for a single shared exchange of breath.

Then Yoongi pulled away blinking. “Y/N I didn’t mean to-”

“No” you said, leaping out of your chair, your cheeks hot. “Of course you didn't” you back away headed or the the door. You didn’t know how to react. Everything happened so fast and you didn’t know what was right.

“Wait” Yoongi shouted trying to catch up with you.

Quite frankly you wanted this to happen. This kiss but not his sudden hesitation. What did he mean by ‘not meaning to’ kiss you, when he was the one who had kissed you? You flushed even more as he walked a your paced. You refused to look his way as you both awkwardly in your own silence as Yoongi tried to collect his thoughts correctly.

He was running out of time, more than he had realised when your house came into view. You began speeding up your pace while Yoongi reached for your arm, but you didn’t want to stay around while he tried to come up with a way to let you down easily.

“Y/N wait” Yoongi yelled stopping you in your tracks as he caught up. “What happened back there - I didn’t mean for it to happen only if you didn’t want me to”

His last words caught you off guard and you had to turn around to make sure it was true. Seeing your expression only made him grin as he took a step closer. “ but if you did, then I totally meant every move and my next.”

Now it was your turn to complete the distance and that you did. But was it the right move?

Anon Request HERE~

Thoughts So Far?

Part Five????

anonymous asked:

"I'm gonna be sick" riarkle. I love your drabbles by the way. :)

Prompt taken from this post. Legit wrote this just now so no time for major revisions.

Thank you anon! Sorry this took so long. The first thing I thought of was pregnant!riarkle but I had to figure out a way to make it angsty so it kinda took me forever until today it just hit me so here we are. 

Line of Dialogue Series

In which the sun finally does shine.

Rating T: happy angst (if there is even such a thing)

Words: 1122

I’m gonna be sick.”

She’s awakened by a knee to the stomach. Not by the sunlight streaming through her dusty curtains. She’s forgotten that Maya Hart is a kicker. The forceful stream of air that leaves her mouth is what awakens Maya. Turns out she’s forgotten that Maya is a light sleeper too, a side effect of growing up in a more dangerous part of town.

“I’m so sorry Riles are you okay?” Her voice carries that same careful tone people have been using for the past three weeks. She’s sick of it. Maya extends her hand, probably to rub her stomach but her hand meets Riley’s soft, indented comforter as she rolls out of bed.

“I’m gonna be sick.” Even as she says the words, Riley’s already flinging open the bathroom door, one hand clutched over her mouth, the other on her stomach.

The sound of Maya’s footsteps is drowned out by the violent retching noises she makes as the slice of pizza Maya force fed her yesterday makes an unwelcome appearance. When she’s done Maya wordlessly hands her a cup of mouthwash. It’s been their routine for the last three days. She takes it gratefully and contemplates if swallowing it would kill her. Maya’s waiting for her to spit it out, she does.

She catches sight of herself in the mirror and grimaces. The purple bags under her eyes have bags. Her hair could use a wash, technically it could have used a wash a week ago. The band tee she’s wearing is dribbled with something she hopes is ketchup. Cold dead eyes stare back at her. Resisting the urge to smash the mirror she steps back aware of Maya’s assessing gaze and flushes the orange remains of a mediocre dinner down the drain. Closing the lid she collapses on top of it, resting her head in her hands.

A cold towel is pressed onto her forehead followed by that same careful tone that makes her grind her teeth.

“Honey?” The towel dabs across her sweaty forehead.

“Yes, Peaches?” She answers tiredly.

“Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

Her eyes snap open and Maya wrings the rag nervously in her hand.

“I mean you guys were…” Maya struggles to find the right word and finally settles on “Intimate.”

“But there’s no way—I’m not.” The universe wasn’t that cruel.

Was it?

“There’s four pregnancy tests under the sink, can you hand me one?” Her voice is so nonchalant you’d think she was asking where the remote was or what time it currently is.

Riley could tell you it’s been exactly 27 days 13 hours 26 minutes and 57 seconds since he left.

27 days 13 hours 26 minutes and 57 seconds since she’s been on autopilot. Her family dubbing her so useless Maya has moved in with her. Temporarily. Even with Maya, their big bed feels empty.

“Why do you…” Maya decides not to ask and reaches under the counter selecting a test. Handing it to Riley she ducks out of the bathroom without another word.

His shampoo still sits next to hers, the black bottle complementing her purple. His razor is still lying where he left it the morning he walked out their front door and never came back.

The pink box is offending in Riley’s hand. The little baby stares up at her. Its eyes are blue, just like his were. Angry, she tears at the box. In the end she’s clutching the plastic device and all that remains of the box is a blue eyeball that mocks her from its position on the tiles below. Tile they’d chosen together.

When she’s done she washes her hands. The test is turned over so she can’t see the plastic window. It won’t matter anyways until the three minutes are up.

Exactly 27 days 13 hours 29 minutes and 57 seconds since Farkle Minkus’ death Riley Matthews discovers she is pregnant.

Maya finds her crying on the floor, clutching the pregnancy test to her chest. She’s a mess there’s no other way around it. Maya pulls her into her arms and cries with her. She cries over the loss of one of her best friends. Riley cries because Farkle Minkus will never experience the joy of being a father.

“We were trying to get pregnant.” She finally tells Maya. “That’s why I have those pregnancy tests. It was going to be a surprise for everyone.” Fiddling with the test she stares at the bright pink plus sign. “Farkle went out and bought a months’ worth of pregnancy tests. I’d do one every day while he waited outside and banged on the door.” This was the first time since his death that she could look back on any memory fondly. “He wanted it so bad I had to kick him out because he wanted to watch me pee.”

“What a weirdo,” Maya sniffled.

“He was.” Riley agreed. “But he was my weirdo. I haven’t taken one since he…” Riley takes a deep breath, “I guess I’d given up on it.” She’d given up on so many things. She’d shut herself off from her family. Slammed the door on all her friends. Maya had convinced her not to quit her job and instead she was on a leave of absence. “But now,” she places her hand over her womb, “I have something to live for.”

Maya’s pale hand covers her own, “Now, Farkle has someone to live through.”

Riley’s eyes shine bright with tears, happy unshed tears. And Maya appreciates the difference from the fat sorrowful tears Riley cried herself to sleep with last night. They sit together, hands clasped until Maya breaks the silence.

“Go take a shower Peaches,” she crinkles up her nose. “You stink.”

There’s a war cry and the two 25 year olds wrestle on the vibrant orange tile. It’s been exactly 27 days 13 hours 44 minutes and 13 seconds since Riley laughed like that. And she’ll be damned if the sun didn’t shine a little brighter that day.

Exactly 8 months 7 hours 56 minutes and 35 seconds since Farkle Minkus’ death Riley Matthews gives birth to Ethan Farkle Matthews Minkus.

There’s a tuft of brown hair peeking out from underneath his green cap (Zay and Isadora gave her an hour long lecture on gender roles) that clashes with what Stuart assures her are going to be blue eyes. Ethan kicks happily in her arms, oblivious of all the adults crammed into the tiny little room.

“Mommy’s here.” She whispers down at his pink little face. A beam of sunlight shines through the hospital window falling onto Ethan. The baby raises a tiny covered fist trying to shield himself from the light. Riley smiles, “And so is Daddy.”

The Year Before Sasuke Left

Chapter 1: Damp Earth

It smelled of damp earth. It smelled of blood, and sweat, and tears—it smelled of new beginnings and reestablished ties and Sakura didn’t think she’d ever inhaled anything quite so…fragrant. Not in all of her life.

Her hands bloomed rehabilitation. Pink brows dipped low as flesh mended, capillaries healed, and the Ulnar and Radial arteries that had been severed into mangled clumps cauterized perfectly.

The smell of blood had never been nauseating to her. Sakura was a medic, after all. She had performed autopsies on cadavers and surgery on the living. Sasuke and Naruto had been stuck in the in-between for a while, teetering around limbo as their detached arms seeped red fluid. There truly was a line between “almost dead” and “almost alive”, and the boys had been crossing sides rapidly.

“Thanks, Sakura-chan!” Naruto says. His voice is guttural, seeping from the back of his throat as if it was dry and he’d been talking too much. Knowing him, he had been. Baka, don’t keep talking.

“Sakura, I…” This is Sasuke.

Sasuke who defected, Sasuke who hated, Sasuke who threatened and raises his hand to her. She hasn’t heard this sound in a very long time—it sounds brittle and husky and as much as Sakura wants to hear what he has to say, she has other important things to take care of. He’s too distracting, too devastatingly beautiful.

“Don’t. I need to concentrate.”

Keep reading

i don’t feel at home here,
not anymore. 
it’s like i’m just passing through,
a guest in this crumbling family. 

there isn’t anything holding me here. 
there’s only empty hallways 
crowded with memories
hidden away in the dusty curtains. 
nobody talks to me.
i can’t take this much longer. 
—  j.e.b. ((about not feeling at home in your own home.))

mcgregorswench  asked:

ShieldShock - getting lost, together or separately, ending up in the same spooky, eerie, desolate, haunted house. Supernatural style, really. Throw in the Winchesters if you want, or maybe Darcy is really a witch.

Okay, this kinda diverged a bit from the prompt, though it’s still got some more of those supernatural elements (both of magic and the show possibly) and it’s really only pre-Darcy/Steve at this point…but there’s more of a story somewhere in this prompt, if I can figure out where to go with it.  You’ll see what I mean.

This ficlet also is in the same universe as this ficlet, with Darcy and Jane as witches.  @hxans, you wanted to know who their third was?  Well, read on and find out. ;)


The old Book of Shadows is stowed safely in Darcy’s messenger bag, slung over her shoulder, which is great for keeping her hands free for a flashlight and a pre-prepared electrical spell, just in case she needs it.  This dance hall is notoriously haunted, one of the only noticeable features of this small Midwestern town that was once a lot more bustling than the broken down shell of a place it currently is.  But that’s the perils of being a witch, sometimes you have to go to the spooky and forgotten places because no one else is going to remember them. Either they’re too scared or too unwilling to see what’s just beyond their comprehension.  

Darcy hops up onto the creaky stage, with some gaps in the floorboards that shudder each time her heavy boots step around them.  She can feel the weight of time around her – the dance hall is maybe a hundred years old if it’s a day, and how many people would have passed through this space before it was given over to decay?  Countless impressions are left behind, and she and her ilk are the ones who either make sure everything stays on the side of positive or get rid of anything negative that shouldn’t be there.  She pokes her head around a dusty red velvet curtain, faded with age and pitted with moth holes, so she can look behind the stage, but there’s only a handful of shredded ropes hanging from the scaffolding above between the curtains and the back wall.  Nothing terribly exciting.  

When she turns back around, however…

Well, Darcy’s still in the same dance hall, although now it’s suddenly come to life, yellow electric lights suffusing the entire place to the point where her eyes almost burn.  The seats in the dance hall look full and comfortable, clean and polished wood and metal seats rising the whole way back to the entrance to the hall.  People are milling around the seats, some lingering and some heading towards the exits, the general noise of human chatter filling the place.  They’re well dressed and clean, though the outfits are ones that Darcy’s only seen in those old movies her mother liked to watch on rainy Saturdays.  The curtains are no longer pockmarked but a plush, vibrant cranberry color, waving and shifting every time one of the dancers pass by them to head backstage. But they don’t see her, Darcy notes as one comes a couple of inches of her face without even realizing that she’s there.  It’s the costumes that the dancers are wearing, however, that tell her that she’s not exactly in Kansas anymore.

Actually, she’s pretty sure she’s still in Kansas, but definitely not in 2011 anymore.  

1940s, she guesses from the hairstyles the women are wearing, on stage and off in the audience.  The sparkly red, white, and blue costumes that the dancers are wearing are far bolder than anything the people watching the show have on.  Darcy’s heard of some witches being able to see into the past when they’re in a particularly powerful location, but psychic sensitivity isn’t one of Darcy’s gifts and it’s never something she’s encountered before.  Which leaves her with the second option of time travel, and that thought’s a doozy that knocks Darcy for a loop.

She slips between the dancers and hops off the stage, mingling with the audience who can’t see her either.  Actually, the audience seems to be able to walk right through her, passing through her body like smoke.  Darcy holds up her hand and pokes at it with her other one – she feels solid underneath her own fingers, but everyone else can’t see her and passes through her skin. “What the fuck,” she mumbles, and notices that no one can hear her either.

Darcy walks up the aisle towards the back of the hall, taking her time so that she can observe everything around her, the gilded detailing on the carved walls of the hall, the upholstery of the seats, the posters on easels at the back of the hall announcing that this was the bond sales USO tour featuring none other than Captain America beseeching them that each bond bought is a bullet in the barrel of their best guy’s gun.  ‘Definitely 1940s, then,’ she thinks.  She follows the crowd into the gallery outside the hall, which is full of many exhausted mother corralling screaming kids who are begging to meet Captain America, signing autographs and taking photographs with people in front of a big propaganda poster against one wall.

‘Dude looks harried,’ Darcy thinks, tilting her head and taking a better look at the Captain.  No one can see her, after all, so there’s no better time to actually stop and observe.  Besides, that’s one of the key things her mentors and her Gran had taught her – one of a witch’s most powerful skills is the ability to just be quiet and listen and watch.  From this angle he looks younger than she’d imagined, and she realizes that this is from before he’d gone overseas and became an actual war hero.  But even so the stage show has been taking it out of him to the point where it reads clearly on his face, even through the woolen cowl.

She’s surprised that she can tell this just by looking at him, and that no one else in the crowd that surrounds him notices either.

What’s apparently clear, however, is that the little wings on the cowl are just as dorky in person as they are in the pictures in the history books, and Darcy claps a hand over her mouth to muffle the giggles.

That’s when the Captain’s head snaps up, eyes going immediately in her direction.  And at first, Darcy doesn’t realize that he’s actually staring at her, and not something that’s just beyond her or through her.  She whips her head around from side to side, trying to find out if there’s anything interesting there to see.  But there’s nothing out of the ordinary, just some wallpaper and lit sconces, and so she looks back at the Captain, puzzled.  

He then cocks his head at her, eyes slightly squinted through the cowl, a small motion that Darcy can’t miss.  Feeling a bit silly, Darcy lifts a hand and points at herself.  Because no one can see her, right?  So there’s no way possible he could be looking at her.

But the Captain nods once, just as his eyes trail over her figure.  The scrutiny makes her squirm, even though she knows it’s entirely because the skinny jeans, riding boots, and oversized sweater she’s currently wearing are the furthest thing from traditional 1940s women’s wear.  He’s just as confused as she is, Darcy realizes, because this should NOT be happening.  This is just a ghost memory, the echo of a time long past in a building that’s known for haunted experiences, so why the hell is someone from that memory able to notice and actually see her?

Unless it was something more than just a memory…?

The Captain absentmindedly hands an autograph book back to a waiting child, and takes a few quick steps over to where Darcy is standing.  She lifts her chin in the air, partly to look up at him, because he’s got more than a few inches on her, and also partly to give the impression that she’s not scared and there’s nothing in this world that bothers her.

(Lies, all lies, but no one needs to know that.)

He reaches a hand out towards her, and Darcy’s breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding away in her chest.  It’s not even a question now that he can see her, the Captain’s bright blue eyes drilling into hers and locked into place.  She lifts up her arm to try and block, to protect herself, but then her fingers brush against his and the surprising solidness and warmth of his skin screams loud and clear that this is not just a memory, that something real is happening even if she doesn’t know exactly what it is.

Then, just as his fingers press harder into hers, the world seems to crack into pieces, the lights falling away like shards of a broken mirror to reveal the decaying darkness of what’s left of the dance hall in the modern era.  Darcy gasps and shudders, spinning around in place while she looks for the vibrancy and the life of just a few minutes before.  But there’s nothing to be found, just the creaking of the floor and the whistling of the wind through the cracks in the wall.


A week later Darcy’s back at Culver, but instead of relaxing or maybe working on the class assignments that went neglected while she was on her mission, she’s got her head in her hands as she hunches over a table in Jane’s office.  “I think…no, I know I wasn’t hallucinating, or having a vision, or anything like that.  It was fucking real, and I still don’t know why I saw it?”

Jane shakes her head, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from Darcy.  “Magic doesn’t work like that.  If there’s something out there that the magic wants you and only you to see, guess what?  You’re going to see it.”

“I have the psychic sensitivity of a toothpick, though,” Darcy mumbles into her hands.

“Still doesn’t matter,” Jane insists.  “Temporal magic’s…quirky.  It’s kinda like quantum physics; it doesn’t always follow the rules of the universe.”

Across the room, Dr. Betty Ross is fiddling around with Jane’s electric kettle, preparing herself a mug of tea before coming over to the table.  “And you’re certain that this man was able to physically make contact with you?” she asks as she sits down.

“Not just any man, Captain freakin’ America,” Darcy says, head still in her hands.

“Trust me, I’m well aware of who Captain America is,” Betty says with a rueful tone to her voice.  “What I’m concerned about is the part where you could actually feel him.  Because that tells me that this wasn’t just some psychic projection.”

Darcy lifts her head out of her hands to give Betty a weak glare.  “Again, psychic sensitivity of a toothpick.”

“And you still managed to 1) travel through time without realizing it and 2) touch the living, breathing figure of a man who’s been dead and buried in the Arctic Ocean for almost seventy years,” Betty points out.

Jane reaches for a scrap of paper and one of the many pens she’s got scattered around her office and starts to scribble down some notes.  “I think you should do some focus exercises,” Jane says.  “See if you can remember anything else aside from running into the world’s first superhero.”

Darcy just groans again, dropping her forehead down to the surface of the table.  “Witchcraft fail,” she sighs.

“Witchcraft has just as many mysteries as science does,” Jane fires back.  “And…I am late for class and I need to get there before my students start walking out,” she blurts, jolting up from her chair and knocking the papers on the table askew.  She lurches over to grab a notebook and folder off of her desk, then all but runs out of the room.  “Lock up when you’re done!” she calls back to Betty and Darcy.

Once whirlwind Jane’s left them behind, Darcy looks up at Betty, her face drawn and sober.  “I’m a kitchen witch,” Darcy says in a quiet voice. “I can make your garden grow, cook up a spell to protect your hearth, get you the right herbs for natural birth control, and whatever else Grandma thinks are the skills that a Lewis witch needs to know.  So this whole temporal magic thing?  It is so far out of my skillset that I’ve got no idea what to do.”

Betty just shrugs, sipping at her tea with an enigmatic smile.  “Do you think that any witch starts out knowing the mechanics of everything that we do innately?  Witchcraft is like anything else in the world, like chemistry or cooking or sewing or accounting – it requires practice.  I had to work my ass off to be able to do what I can – and hide what I was doing from my dad at the same time.”

“Not a fan of magic, I take it?”

“That’s an understatement, and also a story for another time.  But the point I’m trying to make is that you’re still young, and you’ve got plenty of time to practice.  And maybe, just maybe, this whole time slip thing that you experienced is just the start of something even bigger and better.”

Darcy shakes her head, twisting to stare up at the ceiling with an odd smile on her lips.  “Yeah, sure, okay.  How many good stories start out with someone hallucinating a very famous and very dead supersoldier?”

“Wait and see, o cynical one.  Wait and see.”