#theimmortalsassistant

[ladiesandwitches]

@the-immortals-assistant​

“Yes, he was technically dead, and yes I did bury him and now he’s come back to life, but he’s fine. He’s not like a zombie or anything”

[collidingxworlds]

Plotted starter for @the-immortals-assistant​ 

The raindrops hitting the windshield looked like splinters of golden light as they caught the glow of the streetlights. Smeared bright flashes in the darkness of the night, so easily swatted away by the too rapid movements of the wipers.

Will’s attention kept getting captured by those quick flares, his eyes unable to keep the road that stretched before him in focus. He was vaguely aware of how hard his hands were clutching the steering wheel, knuckles white with the effort and palms slick with sweat. And yet, even that tight pressure seemed more like a ghost feeling, something taken out of a past memory, than a concrete sensation his brain was registering in the present.

If he had to be honest with himself, and he rarely was these days because the truths he was faced with were too brutal and shocking, the profiler would have admitted that, lately, a concerning amount of his time, both his waking moments and his slumber, felt exactly like that. The constant headaches, the way his sight would blur, how he would slip too deep in the maze of his imagination, the endless confusion that blended reality and fantasy, the lost time. More often than not, he had the impression of walking through the pieces of a fever dream instead of living.

Taking in a slow breath, Will blindly reached out for the bottle of aspirins, pondering whether or not he should take another. He had been swallowing far too many of them, and far too much paracetamol too, for it to be healthy, but at the same time it felt like it was never enough. The ache and the heat always returned, unrelenting, and they seemed to get worse with each passing day. Hannibal insisted that what he had was psychosomatic, a deadly trap of ill sensations orchestrated by a sickness that belonged to his mind and to it alone. Yet, when he was trembling as badly as he was now, he had a really hard time believing that there was no organic cause speeding up the process.

He probably shouldn’t be driving in such state. Hell, he probably shouldn’t have left his house at all that day, considering that he had woken up to a temperature and a sick stomach. However, he had been waiting to attend that conference for months and he had assumed that he could have managed to make it through it if he had been careful not to tire himself out.

It had turned out, as it was to be expected, that he had been sorely mistaken and now he was stuck in his car with the awareness that he was in no shape to face the hours-long drive that separated him from Wolf Trap. He could have called someone, maybe Beverly, to get a lift back home, but there was a stubborn part of him that didn’t want to. Perhaps it was the fear that word of how badly he was doing could get back to Jack, or maybe he merely didn’t feel comfortable enough to let anyone see him in such a vulnerable state.

Thankfully, there was one silver lining to the situation. The conference had taken place in Baltimore. Which meant that there was one place he could go to look for shelter.

His mind, for once, seemed to agree and Will found himself parking in front of the Lecter household before he could fully realise that he had automatically changed route and drove all the way there. He blinked, trying in vain to shake himself out of his stupor, and then stepped out of the vehicle.

The rain was still falling heavily and, by the time he had managed to stumble up to the front door, he was completely soaked, the cold of the water sipping through his clothes and leaving him shivering even harder. The thought of grabbing an umbrella or even just his coat hadn’t even touched him.

It took him a couple of attempts to properly ring the doorbell and he instinctively hugged himself as he waited, wet hair sticking to his forehead and falling over his eyes, droplets falling from his dark curls like tears.

When the door was finally cracked open, he perked up slightly, perhaps more eager to be greeted by the house’s owner than he was ready to admit.

“Ah, Doctor Lecter, I’m sorry for showing up uninvited so late and without a warning, but I was wondering if...”

The words that had started to fall from his lips, however, came to an abrupt stop as soon as he managed to properly put into focus the figure standing in front of him. A thin silhouette, much shorter than the one he had been expecting, with very telling bright blue bangs framing her face.

The person who had come to greet him was not his psychiatrist, but the man’s daughter. They were more or less familiar with each other by now, having shared a meal at Hannibal’s table more than once since their very first encounter, but the profiler still wasn’t at ease around her. And, in his current state, he definitely didn’t wish to be around her at all.

“Oh, Fish.” The name fell from Will’s lips before he could even finishing the thought that had started to cross his mind. “Sorry, I thought...Is your father home? I need to see him.”

[amnerise]

—   amira   &   fish,   cont

@the-immortals-assistant​   :   anyone who has an inkling of common (fashion) sense knows that the best part of the games are the traditions that proceed the arena. the chariots, the interviews, anything and everything that puts the talent of the capitol’s stylists on display ... although talent is lacking in recent years. there are only so many ways you can dress children up as trees before it becomes derivative, and that number is twice. district four is one of amira’s personal favorites, however — the theme of the sea is striking when executed well.

“it is a beautiful dress, one of my personal favorites this evening,”  amira attempts to convey warmth, when there will always be a cold barrier between tribute and the elite gathered to watch them die.  “i must compliment your stylists later,”  she chuckles.  “— how are you enjoying the capitol? it must be very different from your home.”

[candere]

@the-immortals-assistant​

It was a good thing that the Deluminator Dumbledore had left for him kept Ron’s mind busy. His hand was shaking and the feeling of immense guilt and shame was already gnawing at him like a huge rat, but his brain refused to confront these emotions. Right now all Ron focused on was the light from the device that seemed to guide him. Where to? He had no idea. He followed until he apparated to a place he deemed safe. The light agreed with him.

But now that Ron had to focus on the process of the apparition, to make sure he wasn’t getting splinched again, he was forced to be rational and admit to himself that he had just abandoned his closest two friends to an unknown fate. “What am I doing..?” He stared at the Deluminator as if the device held any answers. “Where am I anyways?” Why did the Deluminator want him to go here?

He turned abruptly, hearing something rustle behind him. Leaves. From trees at the edge of a forest. He drew his wand and swallowed, expecting the worst. Did the Death Eaters track him down already? But he hadn’t uttered You-Know-who’s name, so how was that possible?

[magaprima]

@the-immortals-assistant​

The flash of a memory had been the first flash of the smallest feeling of hope, desperate and dim as it was. She remembered her suddenly. She remembered that she’d helped her before, played her part in getting Lilith the throne, leaving before it had all been...before everything that had happened afterwards. But no matter what had changed, what had been....undone, she had helped her. And she’d said, in that strange, hidden shop of everything that day, that she had granted many things, any things in fact...and that anything was possible as long as the right price was paid. And Lilith would pay the price, whatever it was, freely. Gladly. 

It was hard to find the shop again, to find her. Lilith might still be a witch, yes, but now she was only a witch...none of her Satanic gifts, none of her infernal powers....just the ones that she’d gained upon leaving the Garden. But they’d been enough to help her survive for years alone in the wilderness....they could be enough to find her. To find the only hope of...the only hope of being with her son again. .

It took longer than she’d liked-- days rather than minutes-- but finally she came across that door, finally she had focused her desire, her wish, her desperate, agonising wish, to have that place appear again. A door that wasn’t there before. A door she pushed through without hesitation, without caution. She could hear her son’s cries ringing in her head, tormenting her and she pressed her hands to her temple in an effort to block them out. 

“Forgive me, Adam, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me....” She muttered to herself desperately tears falling down her cheeks, “I’ll fix it, I promise, I promise, I’ll fix it, I’m coming, I promise, please, please....” Just please don’t cry, don’t cry.....

Footsteps drew her attention and, looking up, she saw Fish. “I need your help” She said immediately, voice filled with heartbreak, “Please. I’ll do anything, pay any price”

[libdemdisaster]

@the-immortals-assistant

“There you go, see, it’s alright, baby.” Adam gave Artemis a gentle kiss onto her forhead as he stepped back into the living room to check on Fish. 

He had come home to pure chaos: The baby crying, Fish crying - for a moment he had feared something truly terrible had happened. Turned out Artemis had just refused to stop crying and it had overwhelmed her poor, tired mother. 

“She stopped now. I gave her some of her bottle, do you want to give her the rest?” he offered to Fish, trying to make her feel involved. 

[multusxcastalides-archive]

@the-immortals-assistant​

     She had always been able to keep her grades at least someone decent, and in most of her subjects, she was still doing very well. It was just Defense Against the Dark Arts that she was failing, and she was failing it hard. She could already see the disappointment in her parents’ eyes, and there was no way she was going to go home with a Dreadful.

     So she had gathered up her courage and had trudged to the teachers’ lounge, knocking on the door and requesting to speak to her professor. She held her textbook in her arms, her bag dangling from her shoulder, and she was staring at the floor in front of him. None of her family had been this bad at Defense. In fact, most of them had excelled at the subject, with her uncle Harry, uncle Ron and aunt Hermione even leading the DA in teaching the other people when they had been at Hogwarts. Of course, her father had been quite good at all subjects as well, and her mother had been top of her class in Defense. So she had to get better.

     When she heard the door to the teachers’ lounger open once again, she looked up, giving the professor a weak smile. “I think I need some help with your subject,” she said in a soft voice.

[progenyofprongs]

@the-immortals-assistant​ ♥ ( FISH ) liked for a one liner starter

           "Is no one seriously freaking out about all the floating ghosts around?!”