#( Knowing about the ice apparitions though .... seeing her out && about is impressive. )

[aminiatureworld]

In My Dreams IV

Characters: Xiao, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,167

Warnings: Brief depiction of violence, nightmares

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. This one was a little sketchy/ooc, prolly because I’m tired.

Xiao

If there was one thing that you appreciated most about your relationship with Xiao it was the fact that he never attempted to cage your independence.

Though the adeptus had a penchant for clinginess – something he’d never actually admit to – the circumstances of both his and your past had set a standard for a level of separation that you greatly appreciated. You were never pressured to tell Xiao about things you weren’t comfortable sharing and in return you never pressed your partner in regards to topics or events that made him somewhat uncomfortable.

And yet there was something very isolating about such a freedom.

It was an ordinary enough commission, laughably so in fact, the kind that you could knock back in ten minutes flat if you put a little effort into it. Treasure Hoarders were once more encroaching on Liyue, this time gathering at the vicinity of Dunyu Ruins, something that would surely be a hazard to the archaeologists who gathered to study the lost jade monument. The act of chasing out the Treasure Hoarders was indeed easy enough, and it was only until you started rifling through their loot that you found yourself uneasy.

The lid was an innocuous enough item. Though the box that it once covered was nowhere to be found it must’ve been a work of art, as the smooth tortoiseshell lid was clearly the result of patience and love. Painted a deep blue it depicted a snowy scene, with a castle or cathedral at the front and center. The building itself was of a unique design; a tall turret stuck out at the top while small onion domes sat a little lower, each painted a more outlandish color than the last. The architecture was completely unlike what one might see in either Liyue or Mondstadt, and really there should’ve been nothing to it except the odd design of the building. Yet the moment you set your eyes upon the building you felt something harden in the pit of your stomach.

You never thought about what you couldn’t remember; after all, what was the point of it? Why mourn something you weren’t even sure was good or bad? Yet in that moment you felt that you would give very little to not remember just a little bit. At least enough to know why the image of a cathedral in the snow made you wish deeply for something you couldn’t remember, and frightened you just as much.

“Something’s wrong with you face.”

“Xiao!” You sputtered, surprised by the sudden bluntness of your partner. “My face is just fine, a little dirt won’t kill me.”

“That’s not it.” Xiao scowled. “Your face is harder than usual. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened! Sometimes I just don’t smile, okay?” You instinctively moved the corners of your mouth upwards, trying to ignore the sudden jump in your heart rate. “I’m fine.”

Xiao looked supremely unimpressed at your efforts, sighing and flying up to the balcony of the Inn. You sighed, letting your expression once more droop. It was easy sometimes to forget how in tune Xiao was. You wouldn’t expect it from an adeptus who had spent thousands of years mostly secluded from humans, but your partner was impressively good at reading your mood. Usually you didn’t mind the ability of his, even welcoming the fact that he so bluntly brought up the question of your feelings. But today you wished despite yourself that he was a little less aware. After all, how could you explain to your partner what you didn’t even understand yourself?

The rest of the night was oddly tense. Though Xiao said nothing you could tell from the way he stared intently at your face that he hadn’t given up his suspicions. For your part you tried to ignore his gaze, talking about trivial matters such as the question of replacing the Guild roof and the fact that you had managed to gather a few Qingxin during your commissions. All the while you felt the roiling of your heart; and all the while you kept rubbing your fingers along the smooth finish of the lid in your pocket as if in doing so you might suddenly be struck with what you currently missed and currently, desperately, needed.

The next day you walked up to Katherine utterly exhausted. Though you’d made a concerted effort to sleep, knowing that if not you’d just arouse more worry in Xiao, most of the night had been spent tossing and turning, your eyelids feeling paper thin as you attempted to drag yourself down into the depths of sleep. Of course now that the sun was shining you felt like even a stone bench would be a soft enough mattress. Blinking heavily you smiled awkwardly at Katheryne.

“Any commissions today?”

“Two ordinary sweeps and one request.” Katheryne tilted her head slightly. “Are you sure you don’t need rest?”

“I’m perfectly fine Katheryne, thank you for worrying. You said there was a request?”

“Yes. It seems that the citizen who noticed the Treasure Hoarders for us claims to have been robbed by them. He says to meet you at Dunyu Ruins so you can hand over the item.”

“And what item is that?”

“He said it was some sort of box lid. He didn’t give many details I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable though of course we could send someone with you.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks for worrying.”

“Of course! Good luck!”

“Thanks.”

You turned around, trying to stem the ice that flooded your veins. Who was this man to whom the cathedral belonged? How did he come across such an odd item, was he from one of the other nations of Teyvat you hadn’t visited? Most of all you wondered if he held some connection to your past. The idea thrilled you in some way, though dread also lingered. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to meet this mysterious person. Commissions were commissions however; you wouldn’t betray the Guild. No matter how much you wanted to; you couldn’t.

The Dunyu Ruins were still, no monsters seemed to linger at the gates and no other adventurers peeked out from behind old walls. The air was utterly still, something which worried you greatly. Walking at an increased rate you sought out your mysterious commissioner. The more you thought about it the more you wished the whole thing to be over as soon as possible. Turning the corner you stopped in your tracks, gazing in awe at the person a few meters in front of you.

The first thing you thought was how oddly he was dressed. The second thing was that he was much younger than you had expected. The third thing was that you felt an odd sense of familiarity from him.

“Ah yes, the adventurer who accepted my commission. Have you brought what I asked of you?”

Though a response was certainly in order you found the words stuck in your mouth. Staring at him you felt the ground shift between your feet slightly. He was familiar, this young man in front of you, and yet he was also a perfect stranger. He seemed more like an apparition than anything, a spirit who had yet to cross to the far side. You stepped closer, reaching out your arm slightly. If you went to touch his shoulder, would your fingers go right through him?

“You really must think it’s odd that I’ve returned.” The man chuckled. “I assure you I’m completely real. You weren’t the only one to survive sister, though I know that information might be too little too late?”

“Sister?” You snapped out of your trance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Surely you aren’t pretending not to recognize me? I think that’s beneath even you. Come now, was I such a brat as that?” Reaching out the young man went to grab your hand. Instinctively you pulled away, feeling discomfort shoot through you.

“I don’t know what you mean? And you certainly aren’t my brother! I’ve never had a brother!”

“Then who was the kid you lived with your whole life before the incident?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know about any incident or any brother. You asked me here to return something so I’m returning it.” Reaching for the lid you thrust the little work of art in front of you. “Here. Take it.”

“So you really don’t know who I am?” The young man reached out to take the lid. “How is that possible? Have they gone so far as to erase me from your memories? Have I been taken out of your family?”

“They?”

“The gods.” The young man’s eyes seemed incredibly harsh all of a sudden. “Their presumptiveness holds no bounds.”

“Don’t speak of the archons that way.”

“Answer me this,” the young man ignored your protest, “where are you from.”

“Why should I tell you that?”

“Humor me.”

“I…” You stood there for a moment, wondering whether or not you should tell this strange figure the truth. Morbid curiosity floated in your mind, and you took a sharp breath. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“So I really have been erased from your mind.”

“Nothing’s been erased! I just don’t remember, should that surprise you so much?”

“Yes, it does. I see my plans will have to be changed.” The young man took a deep breath. “Very well then, we shall see what we shall see. I have an offer for you.”

“And what is that?” You felt suspicion wash over you.

“Join the Abyss.”

“Over my dead body!” Instinctively stepping away you drew your polearm. So that’s what this was about.

“I figured you might say that. However, let me tell you this. Our family was torn apart by the cruel whims of faraway gods. Teyvat suffered the same fate, still suffers it. You may not remember what happened to us, but I know it is buried in you somewhere. If you wish to avenge our family, then you’ll join us.”

“I have no petty thoughts of revenge against the gods.”

“That may very well change.” The young man smirked. “I’ll be back in a week. I expect your answers then.”

He was gone before you could say anything, carried away by a blanket of purple stars. You stared at the empty ruins, confused and empty, feeling far worse than you had felt when you arrived here.

“You look worse.”

“Thanks Xiao.” You let out a sigh, unsure how to respond.

You’d spent the rest of the walk back to the Wangshu Inn in agony, thoughts darting back and forth as you tried to reason with yourself about the veracity of the young man’s claims. There was no proof he was who he said he was after all, no proof that he wasn’t simply insane, or trying to convince you to join him by lying. Yet there was something about him, his demeanor, his anger, something that spoke to a truth about him. Not that the idea made you any happier. After all truth or not, he was still an Abyss member, or at least an advocate. You could never side with him, even if he was your long lost family. And yet what if he was your family? What then? Would it truly be a betrayal then to simply send him packing?

Xiao’s hand enveloped your own, the soft warmth drawing you out of your confused thoughts. Looking up you found him leaning into you, the tips of his hair lightly brushing your cheeks. His eyes bored into you ask he scanned your face. You stood perfectly still. You knew what Xiao was doing, knew that he was trying to figure out the depths of your discomfort. It was valiant of him, even if you hoped that he turned up empty handed. How could you tell Xiao, an adeptus who served directly under Rex Lapis, about the man who blasphemed the gods.

“You should sleep.” Xiao finally pulled away.

“It’s still early evening.”

“You didn’t sleep well last night, I could tell. You should sleep now; maybe you’ll feel better.”

“Maybe.” You replied, knowing that even if you slept better than you had ever before nothing would change when you woke up.

Still your eyelids were heavy and your feet aching. Sleep beckoned you with open arms, and you were quick to fall into its depths. Pressing a soft kiss on Xiao’s cheek you made your way up the stairs. Collapsing onto your bed you let out a sigh of relief. Sleep was coming on fast, and you quickly found the outside world swirling away. The last thing you were aware of was a dent in your mattress, and a set of familiar eyes staring down at you, filled with affection and worry.

It was dreadfully hot. That was the first thing you were aware of. The second was how loud everything was. There was a terrible sound swirling around you, inhuman shrieks seemed to rise up from the ground beneath you, accompanied with a banging that cracked through the air, echoing oddly in a night that was all too quiet. The third thing was that you had no idea where you were. Looking around you found yourself reeling at the scene that met your eyes. The house in front of you must’ve been nice at some point, but now had fallen into ruin and disrepair. Smoke was drifting up from a door that led into the ground, and bottles lay in pieces on the ground. A wall seemed to separate the house from the outside world, so tall that you had no idea what lay beyond it. Trembling slightly you felt yourself move towards the source of the noise, feet moving despite the rising dread that you felt. Making your way down a set of stairs a few lines came to you all of a sudden.

A ceiling of amber, a pavement of pearl

The smoke was thicker now, filling your lungs, leaving you short of breath. Little bits of orange blurred your vision, wielded by strange men in strange uniforms. They seemed distorted in the smoke, made into ghosts that might haunt a child’s nightmares.

Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still

You didn’t move your head towards the back of the room, somehow you couldn’t. Your very soul fought against it. Instead you closed your eyes, overwhelmed with how hot it was.

“You’ve come so far and you can’t even look?”

The voice was mocking, familiar, full of scorn. Opening your eyes you stared at the men in front of you, the men with fire at the tips of their hands. Why did he want you to look? You knew what you’d see. Somehow you knew.

We climb’d on the graves, on the stone worn with rains

You couldn’t make it out among the smoke. All you knew was that it was red.

You screwed your eyes shut, even as sudden clarity danced before you. Someone was calling your name.

There was a hand on your shoulder.

And alone dwell forever

The smoke cleared, and with it the dream.

The scream ripped through your throat before you could even process it. You knew that you should stop, knew that you were no longer dreaming, knew that the hand on your shoulder belonged to your terrified partner. Still you screamed. You screamed and screamed and screamed.

“Hey. Hey!” Xiao’s voice was frantic. Shifting your gaze towards him you felt yourself begin to tremble.

“It, it was true. It was true, I saw him. I saw him. I saw me. It was true. I, I, they’re dead. They’re dead.”

“It was a dream. No one’s dead.”

“But Xiao, they’re dead. He was right, they’re gone and dead and somehow I forget them.”

The loneliness slammed into you, mixing with the horror that sent your stomach churning. You dug you nails into your palm, desperately trying to stop shaking. Everything seemed distorted, the light emerging through the window just as menacing as the dark.

“Take my hand.”

Xiao pulled one of your hands on his lap, gently opening it and running his fingers over the marks that now rested in your palms. Unfurling your hand you it was flat against his he covered it with his own. Letting his palm rest gently against yours he looked up at you.

“No one is dead. You were having a nightmare.”

“I was remembering, Xiao. I finally remembered something. And now I wish I never had.” You unfurled your other hand, wiping furiously at the tears that pooled in your eyes. “I’m so alone Xiao, I’m so alone.”

“You aren’t alone.”

“My family, my family is gone. The only one left is an Abyss member. I, I’m so utterly alone.”

You felt Xiao drop your hand slightly. The sudden lost connection made your founder for a moment, but soon the feeling was lost as Xiao wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your forehead his grip was tight and strong, encasing you utterly in soft comfort. Letting yourself collapse slightly you leaned into his embrace.

“You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be here.”

If promises were conveyed in actions then you had no reason to doubt Xiao’s. Though the air around you was sticky with heat you found yourself pressing into your partner’s chest eyes more, soaking up every bit of connection that you could get. Xiao said nothing more, simply keeping you in his embrace, lips brushing against your cheeks as he kissed away your tears.

You knew that he wouldn’t ask about your brother that night, perhaps not even the morning afterwards, or even tomorrow evening. After all your partner wasn’t one for words, and your relationship wasn’t built upon the expectation of painful transparency. If you weren’t ready to talk he wouldn’t push you.

Eventually your tears slowed, though the pain in your chest still burned like a brand. Bringing your hands to your chest you gazed up at the adeptus who was still wrapped around you.

“Can we stay this way a little longer?”

Xiao’s eyes gleamed catlike in the moonlight. Leaning down he brushed his lips against yours, sighing slightly as you met him with exhausted ardor. Pulling back you rested your head on your partner’s chest. The dulled beat seemed almost musical, a reminder that Xiao was alive, a reminder that he was right next to you.

You had assumed in some way that it meant he didn’t care, or didn’t want to know. Though you would’ve never thought that before, the feeling of loneliness that had threatened to swallow you up had made that perfectly clear. Yet Xiao did care, cared enough not to prod and poke at wounds that were surely bleeding even now. Cared enough to kiss your worries away, cared enough to let you embrace him as long as you needed. Cared enough to show that you weren’t truly alone. 

In a week you’d give the young man who had once been your brother an answer. In a week you’d face the fact of your loneliness, of a family that you’d once been a part of. In a week you would let yourself be truly lonely. But until then you would listen to the familiar beat of Xiao’s heart as you remembered that you weren’t truly alone. That you never would be.

-------

The box lid itself was based off nothing in particular. The building painted on it is a reference to Saint Basil’s Cathedral. 

The poem I used was “The Forsaken Merman” by Matthew Arnold

The scene in the reader’s dream is a reference to the execution of the last Imperial family of Russia. It took place in the basement of the Ipatiev House in Ekaterinburg on July 17th/18th 1918. 

[drnikolatesla]

Nikola Tesla's Dream

A very rare story told by Tesla in a letter to a friend. He talks about his brother's death, his mother and her death, and his thoughts on spiritualism.

"Years ago, after evolving my system of wireless transmission of energy, I came to the conclusion that to put it on a sound engineering foundation I had to unravel the electrical mysteries of the earth. The task almost superhuman, but I had the boldness of ignorance to undertake it and passed several months in most intense concentration eventually gaining a clear insight when I was at a point of collapse. On my slow return to the normal state of mind I experienced an exquisitely painful longing for something undefinable. During the day I worked as usual and this feeling, though it persisted, was much less pronounced, but when I retired the night, with its monstrous amplifications, made the suffering very acute until it dawned upon me that my torture was due to a consuming desire to see my Mother.

Thoughts of her led me to the review of my past life beginning with the earliest impressions of my childhood and I was dismayed to find that I could not recall clearly even her features except in one scene. It was a dismal night with rain falling in torrents. My Mother, took me in her arms and whispered, almost inaudibly: “Come and kiss Daniel.” I pressed my mouth against the ice cold lips of my brother knowing only that something dreadful had happened. My mother put me [on the] bed and lingering a little said with tears streaming: “God gave me one at midnight and at midnight he took away the other one.” This remembrance was like an oasis in the wilderness kept alive by some strange prank of the brain in the midst of oblivion. My recollections came slowly gaining is clearness and after weeks of thinking the images appeared sharply defined and in a fullness of light which astonished me. Uncovering more and more of my past life I came to review my American experiences. In the meantime my craving had become almost unbearable and every night my pillows were wet from tears. Unable to stand it longer I resolved to quit work and go home. This I did and after a multitude of experiences I found myself in Paris wither I had fled from London to escape the fuss raised about me in England. I had to get off some final proofs for one of my lectures before leaving and while doing this a messenger handed me a telegram from my uncle which read: “Your Mother is dying hurry if you want to find her alive.” I rushed for the train and after three day’s journey over the mountains at breakneck speed I reached, bruised and exhausted, my Mother’s bedside. She was in the agonies of death but the jou of seeing me worked the miracle of a temporary recovery. I never left her until my own condition became such that I was taken to another building in the neighborhood for a short rest. When I was alone in my bed I meditated on what might happen if my Mother died. Would there be a disturbance in the ether? If so could I detect it? My senses were acute to an incredible degree. I could hear the ticking of a watch at a distance of fifty feet. A fly alighting on a table in the center of the room produced in my ear a thud like that of a pile driver and I could hear plainly the clatter of his feet. I was trained scientific observer well qualified to make an undistorted record of what I perceived. If such a transmission of effect was possible the best conditions existed for establishing the fact. Mindful of the enormous scientific importance of such a discovery I struggle desperately against sleep, and with my senses sharpened by the darkness and stillness of the night, I watched intently. Five or six hours, seeming like an eternity, passed without a sign and then I gave out falling into sleep or swoon. When I came to an indescribably sweet music filled my ears and I saw a floating white cloud in the center of which my Mother was reclining looking at me with loving eyes the face illuminated those of seraphims. The apparition passes slowly across the room and out of my vision. In that instant a feeling of absolute certitude swept over me that my Mother was dead and, sure enough, a maid came running who brought the mournful message. This knowledge gave me a terrific shock and suddenly I became aware that I was – in New York! My Mother had died years before but I had forgotten it: How could this happen I asked myself horrified and bitterness, pain and shame overwhelmed me. My sufferings had been real though the events were but imaginary reflections of previous occurrences. What I experienced was not the awakening from a dream but the restoration of a particular department of my consciousness.

"At the time the events related actually took place I was in a hysterical state and inclined to believe that there was really a psychic manifestation, a post mortem message from my Mother, but I soon dismissed this idea as sheer nonsense. I am proving constantly, by every thought and act of mine, that I am nothing more than an automaton responding to external stimuli and passing through as infinitude of different existence, from the cradle to the grave.

"The explanation of these mental phenomena is, after all, very simple. Through long concentration on a special subject certain fibers in my brain, for want of blood supply and exercise, were benumbed and could no longer respond properly to outside influences. With the diversion of my thoughts they were gradually vivified and finally brought back to their normal condition. The desire to see my Mother was due to my examination of some artistic fabrics woven by herself which had awakened in me tender memories shortly before I began to concentrate. I heard the music because my Mother died on Easterday just when a choir was singing in a church not far from me. But to locate the external impression which caused the apparition I had much trouble until I remembered that, on my return from Europe, I passed through Munich and saw there, among others, a painting of Arnold Bocklin interpreting one of the seasons and showing a group of allegorical figures on a cloud. So wonderfully skillful was the artist in this creation that the cloud seemed positively to float in the air as if supported by some invisible means.

This made a deep impression on me. The practical lesson of all this is to beware of concentration and be content with mediocre achievement."

–Nikola Tesla

(Letter to George S. Viereck. Hotel New Yorker, New York, 20 December 1934.)

[post-itpenny]

The Challenge

So this is completely ridiculous but I’ve had the idea for a while and just really wanted to try writing some Dead By Daylight.

Yeah this is definitely ridiculous.

There were few things they could take comfort in while trapped in this never ending nightmare that the survivors called “The Game.”

The first being that despite how twisted and horrifying the game was, it did still have some semblance of a set of rules that both survivors and killers alike had to follow.

The second being that for some reason, despite coming from different countries and languages, they could all understand each other. They heard each other in their own languages except or obvious accents. It was strange and unnerving, something that became more disturbing as more and more survivors came claiming to be from different decades.

Jane speculated it was because they were dead, explaining to the others the last thing she remembered was flying off the road thanks to some black ice. Adam added that he had been in a train crash which he was certain he should not have survived. It was Kate that pointed out she had been literally yanked out of reality by The Entity and dropped by the campfire. Several others could attest getting lost or just walking into the fog by complete accident.

Perhaps it was another rule they didn’t fully understand. But then again, communication was vital during a trial. Regardless of the reasoning of The Entity the survivors all agreed it was a small comfort being able to speak with each other.

Which led to how everything started.

Dwight, Claudette, Nea, and Jeff had been pulled into a trial. The anxiety that came with waiting for those in a trial to return never lessoned. There had been a handful of survivors that only lasted a few rounds before completely breaking, dying in a trial and not returning to the campfire. No one wanted to think about what may have happened to those few but the fear someone else would break was always present.

Fifteen minutes in and Dwight had appeared, his clothes muddy and torn. The look on his face said it all- a mori.

“Ghost Face,” he groaned, “‘Dette was hooked and I ran to help her. Should have known it was too easy since he had already gotten me once.” Dwight sighed as he shrugged off his shirt and took the offered needle and thread from Quinten. The Entity could repair broken bones and gored flesh; heck, it even fixed Dwight’s glasses more than once. But it was apparently not a tailor.

From across the campfire Bill shook his head as he took a drag of his cigarette, “how the hell did he get you so fast boy?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Dwight snapped back with a slight whine in his voice, “I spawned in right next to the guy. I didn’t have a chance.”

Half an hour later the other three came back, Claudette seemed…. dumbfounded.

Nea was laughing hysterically.

“I would have paid anything the see his fuckin’ face!” She cackled. “You guys, guys! You won’t believe it!”

Apparently Nea had also tried to come to Claudette’s aid, hanging back in the tall grass as she saw Ghost Face pounce on Dwight. But then-

“So he’s fishing his camera out of a pocket and to take a picture and- an-“ Nea couldn’t continue, breaking into another fit of laughter. Claudette, who had seen everything, continued.

“Ghost Face took a selfie with Dwight’s body and Nea photobombed it.”

“He sat there for two minutes just staring at the stupid screen!”  Nea screamed between fits of laughter, Dwight gave  a huff of annoyance and half-heartedly shoved Nea off the log she sat on and flat on her back in the dirt, tears in her eyes with laughter.

Bill took another drag of his nearly dissolved cigarette and scowled. “That was bold but stupid, what if he turned around and stabbed you?”

“Oh come off it old man,” Nea scoffed, “pass me a cig from wherever the hell you get them from.”

“Nope, you’ll ruin your lungs.”

“Bill you-“

“So what's a photobomb?”

It had been Nancy that had asked, which considering it had been the 80’s last time she and Steve had checked no one could blame her. Confusion about slang did not change even if they could understand each other, the time gaps not helping. So it was explained what it meant to photobomb someone and as the realization of what Nea had done really started to sink in, most of the group could agree, it was hilarious.

But then two days later Ace decided it would be funny to sing “I Only Have Eyes For You” to the Nurse, leaving the apparition coming to a halt in her chase with Meg. He made it through the first verse before she seemed to pull herself together and swing at him with her bone saw. Ace died pretty quickly that round but that night at the campfire they were all in better spirits than they had been in a long time as they listened to Ace and Meg recount the story.

And so, the challenge was born.

There were several like Bill, Tapp, and Jane who saw it as reckless but even Claudette who was arguably one of the most level headed of them all pointed out that it wasn’t like anyone would die permanently. Plus, if it raised everyone’s spirits then wasn’t the risk worth it?

Even the survivors got bored with the monotony of one trial after another, so anything that could spice things up was welcomed by most.

It took some time to explain what a “meme” was, several failing since the best they could do was give examples that not everyone understood. But the idea got across soon enough and quickly led to Steve screaming “is that a cat?!” As the Demigorgon charged his way which led to Feng Min screaming “yeet!” As the Huntress threw a hatchet in Bill’s direction.

The Huntress didn’t seem to appreciate the humor as much as Feng Min did.

Perhaps the boldest came from Laurie who had at first been very much against the idea of taunting the killers in such a way. But she had been inspired, and there were very few things that could bring her as much joy as giving her brother any form of grief.

Kate and Quinten has been trapped in a corner of the ironworks, Michael staring them down as he prepared to strike-

But they were far more interested in Laurie who was standing an arm’s length behind him.

Michael lunged and they split in separate directions; Kate apparently being the unfortunate chosen as Michael chased her out of the ironworks and Quinten watched as Laurie followed right behind, just as stealthy and quiet as her brother could ever be. She followed him like this for nearly the entire match and when Michael did finally turn around to spot Laurie he skipped the usual protocol and went straight to a mori.

It was amazing and Quinten was well convinced Laurie could be just as dangerous as her brother given the right circumstances.

Many of them took turns playing like this, even at the risk of an early death the survivors found it worth it for just two minutes of a good laugh. They now had stories to share around the campfire aside from the mournful accounts of what they missed from their old lives. Even Jane eventually joined in, propping her arms up on a window ledge and holding a thirty second mock interview with an extremely confused Wraith with an imaginary microphone held out for his response.

They started repeating the antics of each other which infuriated some of the killers to no end. The Huntress especially really did not seem to like it when someone screamed “yeet.” But a challenge was still a challenge and the ultimate goal was to outdo each other.

Dwight often did not feel like a proper leader even though he somehow had found his way into the role. He didn’t like the idea of the others willingly throwing themselves in harm's way for the sake of a laugh. It already worried him to no end when Meg or someone else would lead a killer on the chase so the others could work on a generator. The theory that they would always come back as long as they had hope felt shaky to him at best. If The Entity could bring them back on a whim then surely it could just get rid of them if they proved too troublesome. It did make the rules of the game after all.

And yet…

Dwight was running as fast as he could, the leader of The Legion right behind him. He turned a corner and dashed for a pallet, hoping the killer had not reached a frenzied state yet. Dwight lept to the other side of the pallet and slammed it down in the killer’s face. He stood there for a moment as some speck of sanity seemed to snap and his brain went to autopilot.

Dwight dabbed and took off running again.

From behind him came a roar of laughter, spotting Nea he gave a grin as he dashed off into the cornfields of Coldwind Farms.

Later on he somehow made it out of the trial alive, giggling like mad as he sat down next to Nea.

“Did you see? That was amazing!”

“Y-yeah I saw you,” she stammered.

Dwight frowned, “look I know it’s not the most impressive but you still laughed-“

“That wasn’t me.”

“... what?”

“Dwight, that wasn’t me laughing. I was hiding in a corner, I wasn’t laughing.”

It was then Dwight realized the laughter he had heard was distinctly male.

Dwight slipped off the log in a dead faint.

[rvnclwrites]

Romania 1999 Pt 4 (Charlie Weasley x Female MC)

Summary: AU where MC is an American who attended the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry instead of Hogwarts. Set eight years post graduation (1999) when she finally gets the nerve to travel abroad and follow her dream to be a Dragonologist in Romania. Check out my master list for parts 1-3.  

Notes: Despite the word count, this one feels a little rushed to me and I can’t stop editing it, so I’m posting it before I lose my mind. Hope you guys like it!

Word Count: ~8000 (Yes, again. Sorry 😅)

"Hey, you ready to go?" Charlie asked, pushing open the screen door.

(Y/N)'s heart gave a painful squeeze as the redhead stepped inside. He was wearing khaki trousers and another crimson jumper, but instead of a dragon, this one featured a bright golden "C" in the middle.

"Woah," Charlie said, his brown eyes moving around the room. "I didn't know you liked Christmas so much."

(Y/N) turned away to hide her embarrassment. She had reorganized and used the colour changing charm on the scarce objects around her house this morning to give herself something to do. "I was bored and thought I should make this place a little more festive." She sat on the edge of the mattress to put her shoes on while Charlie stepped toward the dining table, picking up the snow globe Rowan had given her last year. 

"Any reason you decided to do this right before we're about to leave?" he asked, giving the Christmas decoration a little shake.

"Not really."

He set the snow globe back down and considered her for a long moment before a small smile crept across his face. "You're nervous, aren't you?"

"What? No, I'm fine," she insisted, but as she followed his gaze down to her boots, she realized she was trying to tug the left boot onto her right foot. Swapping shoes, she said, "Okay, maybe I'm a little nervous."

Charlie laughed. "There's really no reason for you to be."

"Easy for you to say." (Y/N) couldn't decide what intimidated her the most- trying to impress Mrs. Weasley, meeting Harry Potter, or just the sheer number of Charlie's siblings. She felt queasy just thinking about it. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe I should just stay here."

Charlie snatched her bag from the floor before turning back to her. "I can pick you up too if I have to."

(Y/N) was certain her face was now as red as his sweater, and she hated herself for the perverted direction her mind went. She shoved Charlie on the shoulder before pulling on her coat and taking her bag from him. "Fine. Let's go."

Since nearly all forms of transportation inside the Sanctuary were banned for danger and security purposes, (Y/N) wasn't exactly sure how they were going to get to Weasley's until they stopped right outside the Sanctuary gates.

"Felix managed to get us a Portkey," Charlie said, indicating the battered oil lamp peeking out of the snow near the Sanctuary wall.

(Y/N)'s stomach did a backflip. "Oh."

"Everything okay?"

She nodded. "It's just- so soon. We touch that thing and boom, we're there. Guess I was expecting a train ride or something."

Amusement flickered across the redhead's face as they stopped in front of the lamp. "You've faced dragons head on for nearly six months now, but it's my family that scares you?"

"It's not your family," (Y/N) clarified, "it's all families. It's just… it's been awhile since I've done the whole holiday thing."

Charlie's expression softened and he hesitated a moment before grabbing her gloved hand and giving her palm a quick, reassuring squeeze. "This will just take us right outside the Burrow. We don't have to go inside right away."

She let out a breath, distracted by the tingling sensation in her hand. Thank God they were both wearing gloves- she didn't think she could handle any skin to skin contact from him at the moment. "Okay." 

On the count of three, they each grasped one of the lamp's handles, distorting reality and sending (Y/N)'s world spiraling. Portkey transportation was uncomfortable, but no worse than Apparition to (Y/N). She felt the familiar tug near her lower abdomen and within a minute was landing firmly on unfamiliar ground. Flying skills were definitely an advantage when it came to Portkeys because she hardly ever felt sick after using one. 

(Y/N) adjusted her messenger bag strap while Charlie pushed his hair from his face. For a moment, she wondered if they had ended up in the wrong place because all she saw was a field of snow-covered grass until she turned. 

A staggeringly tall, slightly leaning house stood in front of them. It looked as if each room had been added on as an afterthought, carefully building upward as the family grew larger. There was a detached garage out front, along with a snow-filled cauldron and what appeared to be a chicken coop.

"Wow," (Y/N) breathed. She was used to the city life and quaint suburbs in the States with nosy neighbors and houses smushed together. She didn't know anyone who lived out in the country.

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. "I know it's a bit odd, but I promise it won't topple down while we're in there."

"Like I'd ever doubt any Weasley's ability when it came to magic," she said, nudging his shoulder with her elbow.

Charlie smiled at that. "You ready?"

(Y/N) swallowed, gripping the strap of her bag for something to hold onto as they drew nearer to the Burrow. "What if they don't like me?"

"Why wouldn't they like you?"

(Y/N) scoffed. "I don't know, it took you nearly three months to be my friend. Does stubbornness run in the family?"

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. "Trust me, if I were you, I'd be more worried about whether or not my mum will ever let you leave."

That made the knot in (Y/N)'s belly untangle the slightest bit. "Okay." She wanted to ask what Molly said once Charlie told her he was bringing company, but then a scary thought struck her. He had told them she was coming, right?

Before she could double check, Charlie's knuckles were rapping against the door and he was pushing it open. "Mum?" he called, holding the door open for (Y/N).

Gripping her bag for dear life, (Y/N) crossed the threshold into what must be the Weasley's kitchen, and a plump woman with an all-too-familiar head of red hair came bustling in.

"Oh, Charlie!" she cooed, arms outstretched as Charlie stooped forward to hug her. "How have you been, dear?" She patted her son's arm, looking up at him with clear motherly affection before her eyes landed on (Y/N).

(Y/N)'s heart dropped into her stomach as nerves overtook her. She tried her best to force a smile, now suddenly panicking on whether a wave, handshake, or hug was appropriate.

"Merlin's beard," Mrs. Weasley said, her eyes twinkling. "You sure are prettier than Hank or Scott."

"Mum, this is my friend (Y/N)," Charlie introduced, causing happiness to pool in (Y/N)'s stomach. Even though the redhead had confirmed their friendship months ago, she still loved hearing it. "The one from America I told you about that works at the Sanctuary with me."

"It's so nice to meet you," Mrs. Weasley said, enveloping (Y/N) in one of the best hugs she had ever received. Unexpected emotion tickled the back of her throat at the gesture. It had been years since one of her own parents had hugged her like that. 

Feeling vulnerable, (Y/N) forced thoughts of her family away. "Thank you so much for having me. I hope I'm not intruding."

"Oh nonsense," Mrs. Weasley assured, placing both hands on (Y/N)'s arms and squeezing. (Y/N) wished she could read minds because the look in Molly's eyes made her feel like there was something she was missing, like an inside joke or secret she wasn't party to. "In our house, the more the merrier. It's about time Charlie brought something other than just presents for the holidays. I've been pestering him to bring the team for years."

(Y/N) thoughts wandered back to the unanswered question she had mulled over endlessly at the Sanctuary. Did that mean Charlie invited them every year and they just said no?

"Hank and Scott keep pretty busy, even during the holidays," Charlie said, not answering (Y/N)'s thoughts in the slightest.

Wanting to get out of her own head, (Y/N) added, "Someone's gotta hold the fort down while the expert is out."

The corner of Charlie's mouth turned up. "Oh please. I took you hostage to make sure they didn't replace me while I was gone."

A swell of pride filled (Y/N) up like a balloon. Did he really think she was anywhere near as good of a Dragonologist as he was? 

As she tried to think of a witty response, (Y/N) caught sight of Mrs. Weasley, who looked between the two of them with the brightest smile on her face. Oh God. Mrs. Weasley didn't think… No, definitely not. Charlie had just introduced her as his friend. (Y/N) was overthinking things again. She was probably just thrilled to see her son after all this time.

"Arthur is still stuck at work," Mrs. Weasley said, moving to fuss over a pot on the burner, "but he said he would try to get off early today."

(Y/N) turned to Charlie, suddenly feeling rude for not asking sooner. "Where does he work?"

"The Ministry of Magic," Charlie answered, leaning back against the kitchen cabinets.

(Y/N) stiffened, feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dropped over her. "Oh." She tried her best to sound casual, but her heart began pounding in her chest. "What does he do?"

"Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. The Ministry keeps offering him promotions, but he always turns them down."

Mrs. Weasley laughed, shaking her head. "No amount of galleons or authority can persuade that man to give up his fascination with muggles. Do you have any muggle relatives, dear?"

(Y/N) tried to relax, feeling oddly comforted by the loving look in Molly's eyes. She could handle this. (Y/N)'s problems had zero ties to no-majs, she should be fine. "Yeah, my grandpa was a no-ma-" She stopped herself before the American term left her lips. "I mean muggle." 

"Oh, Arthur will be so excited to hear about him. Can I get either of you something to eat?" 

Charlie looked to (Y/N) and she shook her head. Her latest panic washed away any indication of hunger.

"No, I think I'll show (Y/N) around the Burrow. Is anyone else here yet?"

"Ginny, Harry, George and Angelina are up in the orchard playing Quidditch, of course. Bill and Fleur should be here shortly, and Percy and Audrey will be joining us in a few days."

Charlie nodded. "What about Ron and Hermione?"

"They're visiting the Granger family this year, but they send their love."

(Y/N) exhaled, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. At least now she would only make a fool of herself in front of Harry rather than the entire infamous trio.

Nodding his head toward the doorframe, Charlie said, "Come on, I'll show you around."

The passageway they went through lead to a staircase and as they began climbing, Mrs. Weasley called up, "Audrey's staying with Ginny and Percy is sharing George's room, so you two will have to share Bill's room."

(Y/N) knew her eyes had to look like big fried eggs as Charlie laughed.

"Calm down," he said, gesturing inside the first open door to their left, and (Y/N) spotted the two twin beds on opposite ends of the room. "If it still makes you uncomfortable though, I can take the couch."

"Oh no, it's okay." She tried ignoring the pitter patter of her heart at the thought of going to bed later. "Which one is yours?"

Charlie pointed to the one on the right, and she resisted the urge to claim that one as her own for the week. She set her bag down on Bill's bed and looked around the sparse room. "Did you and Bill always share a room?"

"No, Ginny's room used to be mine," he answered, setting his brown leather bag on the dresser in the middle of the room. "Cons of being the second oldest I guess."

(Y/N) bit her lip. She was about to ask why Mrs. Weasley was letting them stay in the same room when all other unmarried guests were separated, but the answer seemed obvious enough. They were just friends, and Molly was probably aware of her son's disinterest in dating. If anyone could be trusted alone in a room with a woman, it would be Charlie.

"So, are you going to give me the grand tour?"

Charlie smiled at her, an unfamiliar expression reflecting in his brown eyes. "I'd love to."

He showed her the remaining bedrooms, adding tidbits about each of his siblings along the way. (Y/N) could tell he was closest with Bill because of their age, so she was most excited to meet him.

They eventually made their way outside, walking up a hill behind the house until they reached a small paddock surrounded by trees and hedges. As (Y/N) glimpsed the four figures on broomsticks, it dawned on her that this must be the orchard. She stopped in her tracks, her legs feeling heavier than lead, and Charlie chuckled. 

"You gonna be okay? I thought you might want us to join them since you're so sure you'll beat me."

(Y/N) knew what he was doing. Charlie's playfulness always helped her relax and she was grateful he knew it. Before they continued on, however, one of the figures dismounted their broom and came barreling toward them.

"Charlie!" a stunning slender woman with long red curls squealed just before colliding into the dragon lover. 

"Oof." Charlie stumbled back a bit before returning the bear hug. "Hey. You're kicking their asses, right?"

"Obviously. There's no real competition until you come home- but don't tell Harry I said that." The woman did a double take as she registered (Y/N)'s presence, and (Y/N) felt a chill travel down her neck. The woman's hair may have been a deeper shade of red, but her brown eyes were identical to Charlie's. 

"Who's this?" Ginny asked, a smile growing on her pale face. The subtle suggestiveness in her voice reminded (Y/N) of Hank's once he found out (Y/N) was going to the Burrow.

"Hi, I'm (Y/N)." She waved slightly before nervously rubbing her gloved hands together. "I work at the Dragon Sanctuary with Charlie."

Ginny studied her with deep interest. "Wait, are you American?"

(Y/N) laughed a little, forgetting how out of place her voice must sound compared to their enviable British accents. "Yeah. Actually, that's kind of why I'm here. Charlie invited me since I couldn't go home for the holidays."

Ginny nodded slowly, glancing back to Charlie. "How kind of you." 

"So, do you have room for two more?" Charlie asked, making (Y/N)'s heart flutter nervously.

Ginny's eyes lit up as she turned back to (Y/N). "You play?" 

It was probably a good thing Ginny looked as though her happiness replied on (Y/N) saying yes- it prevented her from trying to weasel her way out of it. "Yep."

"Brilliant! What position? Please don't say Seeker, we already have enough of those."

(Y/N) laughed. "No, I prefer Beater." 

Ginny looked to Charlie with a unique expression in her eyes and for the second time, (Y/N) felt like she was missing out on something. "That's perfect. We can play girls against guys. Harry can be Chaser for a change."

Charlie chuckled at the look of dismay on (Y/N)'s face. "You may want to introduce (Y/N) first, or we might risk her fainting off her broom."

Mortified, (Y/N) smacked the dragon lover on the shoulder. "Shut up."

Ginny howled with laughter, taking (Y/N) by the arm and leading her towards the paddock. "Hey it's okay, he still gets it all the time. You should have seen me the first couple times I met him. If that hadn't scared him away, nothing will."

Ginny had been right of course. Harry, George and Angelina were all incredibly nice to her. Charlie had already told (Y/N) about how George lost his ear, so she was sure to make a witty remark about it, securing an instant friendship with the joke shop owner. 

As for Harry, she managed to not make a total imbecile of herself and was even a little less starstruck by the end of their match. She did, however, still get a shiver down her spine whenever she caught a glimpse of that lighting bolt scar on his forehead.

"You're a natural," Ginny said as they dismounted from their brooms. Just as Charlie was about to catch the Snitch, (Y/N) had sent a Bludger his way, allowing Ginny to sneak in and snag the fluttering golden ball. "I can't believe you didn't go pro."

A sore spot inside (Y/N) flexed. That was the one wizarding career she had no chance of ever perusing. "I was offered but don't really like the spotlight," she said, which was as close to the truth as she could manage.

They sat on a nearby bench together as Charlie and Harry wrestled the Bludgers back into the box. George had managed to slip away with Angelina beforehand, claiming his disability prevented him from helping, which (Y/N) found hilarious. She really liked George, and her heart ached whenever she considered the pain he was in. And most of all, she wished she could have met Fred.

"So, are you and Charlie together?" Ginny asked as casually as one would inquire about the weather.

(Y/N)'s stomach flopped, and she was thankful her face was already flushed from the cold air. "Uh no," she answered quickly, shaking her head. "We're just friends."

Ginny considered this for a moment, staring down at the powdery snow beneath their boots. "Well I'm really glad he brought you. He needs someone who can give him a run for his galleons." She smiled, but it fell away quickly, and when she spoke again, her voice was more fragile than (Y/N) anticipated. "And we've been down a Beater ever since we lost Fred. Did Charlie tell you about him?"

Frowning, (Y/N) nodded. "Yeah."

"Wow, you two must be close. He hardly ever talks about it."

"Well it wasn't easy." (Y/N) attempted a laugh, but it faded just like Ginny's smile had. She hesitated a moment and cleared her throat. "But um... I actually lost my brother too."

"Oh," Ginny said, her lips parting in surprise. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," (Y/N) reassured. "It was a long time ago. But I think that helped him open up to me." 

Ginny glanced at Charlie and Harry in the distance, a wistful smile now on her face. "I'm glad he has someone to talk to about it." She bit her lip before adding quietly, "I think he fancies you."

Unwelcomed butterflies swarmed in (Y/N)'s stomach, and she prayed she didn't sound as flustered as she felt. "What? Why would you say that?"

"Well he brought you here for one," Ginny answered, looking at (Y/N) like she was missing something obvious.

(Y/N) gripped the ends of her coat sleeves so she wouldn't fidget. "He was just being nice. None of my friends could come visit me and I'm not really close with my family."

Ginny hesitated for a moment. "You do know he's never brought anyone here before, right?"

(Y/N) figured he had never brought a woman here before, but she wasn't a girlfriend, just part of the team who happened to be a girl. "Well Hank or Scott have come here, haven't they?"

Ginny shook her head slowly. "Nope."

(Y/N) tried to keep her breathing steady. "Well maybe he's invited them and they've just always said no. The Sanctuary is hardly ever not busy."

"I don't think so," Ginny said with a cute giggle.

"Oh." (Y/N) wasn't sure what response she had anticipated to hear from her long awaited question, but that answer caused a weird tingling sensation to spread throughout her body. "I, uh, didn't know that."

"I hope that doesn't freak you out or anything," Ginny added quickly. "And it's perfectly fine if you two are just friends. I just-" She broke off, staring admiringly at her older brother. "I know it may seem like he only cares about dragons, but once he cares about someone, he never stops." Her attention found its way back to (Y/N) and she looked uneasy. "Just- if you don't feel that way about him, can you please careful? I know my brothers always feel the need to protect me, but I don't like seeing them get hurt either."

(Y/N) had to pinch her thigh to force away the emotion bubbling up inside her. Charlie was so lucky to have a family like this. She smiled reassuringly at Ginny and said, "I promise I would never do anything to hurt him. He's honestly one of the best friends I've ever had."

Ginny's brown eyes sparkled as a big, cheeky smile grew on her face, and (Y/N) suddenly had a terrible feeling that her confession may have had a little too much honest emotion behind it. But before she could add anything else, Harry and Charlie made their way over to the bench.

"Uh oh," Charlie said, looking between (Y/N) and Ginny. "Do I even want to know what you guys were talking about?"

Ginny hopped up and took Harry's hand, happiness still radiating off of her. "Just how bad you two are at Quidditch. C'mon, Harry, let's go see what my mum's cooking." She flashed (Y/N) another grin before tugging Harry back down the hill to the Burrow.

Charlie filled Ginny's spot on the bench, looking at (Y/N) with a mixture of amusement and hesitation. "Should I even ask?"

(Y/N) chuckled and shook her head.

"But she was nice to you, right?"

For a second, (Y/N) thought Charlie was teasing her in spite of her earlier comment, but he looked surprisingly serious. "Of course. Your sister's really sweet."

"Well then she took to you a lot better than Fleur," he admitted. "I didn't want to freak you out, but her and my mom were pretty hard on her at first."

"She's just protective of you guys, that's all," (Y/N) said, trying to ignore the stirring in her chest at the comparison. To Bill's wife. She forced a smile to move on from that detail. "And it probably helped that we got to bond over Quidditch. She was glad you finally have a friend who can kick your ass."

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. "Hank and Scott are never gonna let me hear the end of it."

(Y/N) tried to think of a response, but her heart ached as she watched Charlie's profile- his laugh, that smile. She thought back to what Ginny had said, and a chill raced down her spine. You do know he's never brought anyone here before, right?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Charlie asked.

(Y/N) instantly looked away, pursing her lips together in an attempt to hide her pathetic smile. "I was just thinking about something Ginny told me."

"Merlin's beard. Let me guess, she told you the Apparition test story? They love telling that one."

(Y/N)'s eyebrows raised in interest. "No, she actually didn't, but you bet your ass I'm not letting you drop it now."

Charlie groaned, rubbing his face with his gloved hand. "Oh well, George would've told you eventually anyway. I failed my first attempt because I ended up five miles away from where I was supposed to."

That didn't sound embarrassing- several adult wizards rarely used Apparition because of the risks, and retaking the test was hardly uncommon. "Where did you land?" 

"On top of an older woman shopping."

(Y/N)'s jaw dropped and she leaned against the redhead, laughter pouring out of her. "Oh my God, are you serious?"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Charlie said, digging his elbow into her side. "Fair is fair. Now you have to tell me what other embarrassing secret she spilled."

"It wasn't embarrassing," (Y/N) reassured him once her hysterics subsided. She fiddled with the end of her scarf, choosing her words carefully. "She just- well she told me that I'm the only one you've ever brought here, and I guess I was wondering what made me so special." 

(Y/N) waited for Charlie to say one of the obvious answers she had managed to come up within the last five minutes. Perhaps it was the age difference- it would make a lot more sense to bring a friend his own age rather than two forty year old coworkers. Or maybe he was too shy to ask Hank and Scott and knew that (Y/N) was less likely to say no. Or maybe Charlie just felt sorry for her and didn't want her to be a lonely loser on the holidays. 

Instead, Charlie laughed and said, "Don't friends invite other friends over for holidays?"

(Y/N) smiled at that. She didn't think she would ever get tired of hearing Charlie call her his friend. "But Hank and Scott are your friends, and you've known them longer."

The redhead drummed his fingers against his knee, considering. "You're probably going to think I'm a nutter." 

"Try me," (Y/N) encouraged, relishing the way the British phrase rolled off his tongue. She tried to think of what reason he could possibly have that he would be embarrassed by. Maybe he was tired of being the only sibling without a significant other and they teased him over it.

Charlie sighed. "I wasn't lying when I told you Christmas at the Sanctuary is a little depressing, and I was worried that if you stayed back, you might get homesick. And then maybe-" He paused for a moment, looking back down at his hands. "Maybe you'd want to go back to America."

(Y/N) held in a breath, recalling Charlie's expression after he found out about her notorious career hopping. She had already spent six months at the Sanctuary, and he was worried she was going to leave. Her heart felt like it was going to burst.

"And now you think I'm insane, don't you?" 

She shook her head, hoping he didn't see the emotion shining in her eyes. She had never had a coworker care about her like that and it affected her more than she anticipated. "Quite the opposite actually," she said once she managed to find her voice again. "That's one of the sweetest things that anyone has ever done for me. But you don't have to worry about that, okay? I'd never just up and leave." It was risky for (Y/N) to make promises like that, but she would do whatever it took to stay true to her word. Charlie deserved that.

"Good to know," Charlie said, and the expression in his eyes made (Y/N)'s stomach do about a million back flips. "I also invited you to come because of your Christmas present." 

(Y/N) blinked, certain she misheard him. "What?"

He stood and rubbed a hand over his jaw in an attempt to conceal his grin. "We should head back to the house. Bill and Fleur are probably here by now."

"Charles Weasley," (Y/N) began threateningly, pushing off the bench, but he started down the hill, pretending not to hear her as she tried to catch up with his long strides. "We agreed no presents!"

He turned around, continuing to walk backwards while holding his palms up in a shrug as if to say, Oops.

He was so dead.

(Y/N) unfortunately didn't catch up to Charlie until they reached the back door, which he so kindly didn't hesitate to open. She wouldn't have minded so much if it was a small present, but he would have been able to give her that anytime. What on earth would she need to be here for him to give her?

A pair of unfamiliar voices broke (Y/N) from her thoughts, and she tried her best to remain expressionless as they entered the living room. Like George's ear, Charlie had told (Y/N) about the werewolf attack, so she had prepared herself for the worst. But as she glimpsed the healed slashes across Bill's pale face, (Y/N) decided it wasn't that the scars themselves were that bad- (Y/N) had seen wizards in America completely disfigured after encounters with dangerous magical creatures. What was more startling was the stark contrast as the eldest Weasley brother stood side by side with his breathtaking wife. It was like looking at a portrait- tragedy and hope. Love and war. It was a lot to take in.

"Hey, how's Egypt been?" Charlie asked, relieving (Y/N) of her initial surprise as the brothers slapped each other on the back in a hug. Charlie looked so happy to see his older brother, it reminded (Y/N) of how she looked up to Jacob when they were kids.

"Busy. Discovered three cursed tombs just this past week," Bill said, sliding his hands into his pockets. He was taller and more lean than Charlie with his matching red hair pulled back into a low ponytail. "I managed to break the first two though. I said they could handle the third."

(Y/N)'s heart thudded painfully inside her chest even though Charlie had already mentioned Bill was a Curse-Breaker. She didn't think she would ever be at ease when it came to that career.

"He'z a natural. Works zo very 'ard," the blonde woman said proudly, stepping forward to hug her brother-in-law. "How are ze dragons?"

(Y/N) had to purse her lips together to prevent a fit of laughter from escaping as Fleur placed a kiss on each of Charlie's cheeks. Even though Fleur was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, (Y/N) felt no jealousy. It was hard to when Charlie looked more uncomfortable than Hank did when on a broom.

"I don't see any new scars," Bill added with a quick up and down glance at Charlie. "So I'll take that as a good sign?"

Charlie laughed and started to say something, but Fleur interrupted as her eyes met (Y/N)'s. 

"Oh- where are my manners. Who'z zis?" Her eyes were twinkling the same way Mrs. Weasley's had as she approached (Y/N).

"Oh, it's okay," (Y/N) reassured, feeling her cheeks glow from the sudden attention. "I'm (Y/N). I, uh, work at the Sanctuary with Charlie."

A mixture of wonder and curiosity reflected in Fleur's ocean blue eyes. "Are you American?"

(Y/N) answered with a nod and a shy smile. Even she felt intimidated by Fleur's beauty.

"Wow, you've come a long way for ze dragons," Fleur said, and to (Y/N)'s surprise, she repeated the kissing gesture on (Y/N)'s cheeks. "I'm Fleur, Bill's wife. I would love to 'ear all about where it iz you came from. I've never been to ze States before."

"Of course." (Y/N)’s stomach gave a nervous tug as her gaze shifted to Bill, who was staring intently at her- the kind of stare that made a person worry if they had something on their face.

"Hi there, I'm Bill," he said, taking a step forward to shake (Y/N)'s hand. "Charlie's told me an awful lot about you."

(Y/N) hoped the skip in her heartbeat wasn't reflected on her face. She knew Charlie hadn't seen Bill since last Christmas, so any mention of her would have had to have been in letters. Did Charlie really write about her? "Oh really?" she asked coolly, and it was now Charlie's turn to squirm under the scrutiny. "All good things, I hope."

"Definitely. Even beat him on a broom I heard. About time someone knocked him off his high horse." He elbowed Charlie in the shoulder, but the younger Weasley did not look amused.

Instead of commenting, Charlie nodded toward the kitchen. "Well I think mum's almost done with dinner. You guys ready to eat?"

-

The next two days at the Burrow flew by and soon enough it was Christmas Eve. The family hung out around the house for most of the day, continuing to swap stories and play wizarding games together. 

(Y/N) told Fleur as much about the U.S. as she could and frequently bonded with Ginny over Quidditch. She talked to George about the clever pranks she used to pull on her brother and even managed to bond with Bill a little bit over her limited experience breaking curses. Arthur went crazy for stories about her grandpa, and she showed Molly a unique knitting pattern her mom used to use. It was such a good day in fact, it started to take a toll on (Y/N). By nightfall, she realized she had never had so much fun around the holidays before and that knowledge left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Hey," Charlie said, leaning against the door frame that lead upstairs as (Y/N) emptied her tea mug into the sink. "George wants to know if you're up for a game of wizard's chess since he and Angelina will be leaving tomorrow."

"Actually, I'm pretty beat and was going to go to bed soon," she admitted, turning off the tap and leaning back against the counter. The early morning routine at the Sanctuary usually left her yawning at ten o'clock, so she was impressed she had managed to stay awake this long. "But tell him rain check for me?"

The smile that spread across Charlie's face made (Y/N) realize a rain check implied she anticipated seeing his siblings again at some point. She hoped that wasn't too forward. "Sure thing."

Because of the dim lighting, it took her a moment to register the decoration hanging above Charlie’s head, and as she glimpsed the small bouquet of green pinned to the door frame, she couldn't restrain a giggle.

"What?" Charlie asked, his eyes following hers above his head.

Seeing the immediate discomfort that overtook Charlie as he spotted the mistletoe, (Y/N) decided to offer him a bone. "Want me to go get Fleur? It's bad luck to break tradition." 

Charlie let out a muffled groaned, rubbing his face with his palm. "Sorry I forgot to warn you about that. It's a French thing I guess."

"Oh, it's fine. Some people in America do it too, but it's usually just one cheek." She grimaced as she recalled the way her mom's friends used to pinch her cheeks and fuss over her when she was little. "Your face was priceless though. It looked like a frog was kissing you, not a stunning part Veela woman."

Charlie shrugged. "I guess I just see her as Bill's wife, so it's weird to me." 

"That makes sense," (Y/N) said, despite the sinking feeling in her gut. First Sydney and now Fleur. Had any woman ever caught Charlie's eye before? 

She nearly mustered the courage to ask about his former girlfriend from Hogwarts, but the clock chiming on the wall distracted her. "Merry Christmas," she said, seeing that both clock hands were pointing straight up.

An alarmingly smug smile grew on the redhead's face. "You mean Happy Christmas?" 

(Y/N) shook her head in disbelief, fighting back a laugh. Even on Christmas and away from the rest of the team he still loved to push her buttons. Well two could play that game.

Pushing off the kitchen counter, she walked toward him, wanting nothing more than to wipe that grin off his face. Instead of passing him, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, gratified as the playfulness slowly faded from his face. "Happy Christmas, Charlie," she corrected quietly and, without questioning it, eased onto her tiptoes, placing a friendly kiss on his freckled cheek. If the French could uphold traditions, Americans could too. 

Charlie blinked at her, his brown eyes wide and a subtle hue of pink spreading beneath those freckles (Y/N) loved so much. "Goodnight," he replied, but it came out weak and breathy.

"'Night, dragon boy.” She patted his shoulder once before continuing past him to the stairs.

Happy Christmas indeed.

-

(Y/N) couldn’t believe how fast the rest of their vacation flew by. Christmas was a blur for (Y/N) with all the heartwarming presents and affection. The thing about the Weasley’s was it was never about the amount or the cost. It was solely about giving meaningful gifts and everyone was always grateful. 

The only thing that confused (Y/N) was Charlie hadn’t given her a present and whenever she questioned him about it, he refused to answer.

“Why won’t you tell me?” she complained as they packed to leave the following morning. “It’s driving me nuts.”

But Charlie just merely smiled to himself and kept on packing before they made their way downstairs to say goodbye.

“Are you sure you can’t stay another few days?” Mrs. Weasley asked as she held on tightly to her son.

“Sorry, mum. I promised Felix we’d drop off some dragonhide gloves to Hagrid today or we would.”

That was the first time Charlie had mentioned a name associated with wherever the hell they were going, but before (Y/N) could ask who Hagrid was, Molly pulled her into an equally tight embrace. “Promise me you’ll come back to visit again, dear? It was so lovely having you.”

(Y/N) hugged her back, for once welcoming the unfamiliar motherly affection. “Definitely. This was seriously the best Christmas I’ve ever had. I can’t thank your family enough.”

Mrs. Weasley hugged Charlie one last time and just as (Y/N) was about to head out the kitchen door, Charlie tapped her shoulder and pointed to the living room.

“We're traveling by Floo Powder this time,” Charlie explained, leading her to the grand fireplace in the Weasley’s sitting room. He scooped a handful of powder from the vase on the mantelpiece, splitting the amount between himself and (Y/N).

(Y/N) gripped the powder in her hand nervously. She had traveled by Floo Powder before but had no idea where he was taking her. “Where exactly are we going?”

“You really wanna know?” Charlie asked as he stepped into the fireplace. When (Y/N) nodded, he smiled and closed his eyes. “Hogwarts.” He dropped the powder and was instantly engulfed in wild green flames before vanishing. 

(Y/N)’s mouth dropped open. What? They were going to... Hogwarts? 

-

(Y/N) coughed and sputtered as she landed on her feet, fanning away the smoke residue in the air. 

“I’m going to kill you,” (Y/N) said between coughs, stepping out of the fireplace and dusting off her clothes. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.”

She was surprised to not only hear Charlie’s familiar chuckle, but a deep gravelly one too. The redhead came into view first as (Y/N) blinked open her eyes, but she nearly gasped as she processed the unmissable person next to him. Huge didn’t begin to describe the man who was more than double Charlie’s height and at least three times as wide. Thick, long brown hair covered both his head and chin, and his cheeks were flushed pink.

“Oh hi,” she squeaked, mildly embarrassed.

“(Y/N), this is Hagrid,” Charlie introduced, gesturing to the giant man. “He's the Care of Magical Creatures Professor here at Hogwarts.”

“It’s so good teh meet yeh,” Hagrid said, and his jovial expression instantly put (Y/N) at ease. 

She smiled back at him. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

"Charlie tol' me yeh werk at the Sanctuary with him. Do yeh like dragons as much as he does?"

(Y/N) laughed. "I'm not sure anyone can like dragons as much as Charlie does."

Hagrid chortled, nudging Charlie's shoulder. "Yeah, he hasn't changed one bit. I've known him since his first year here at Hogwarts. Did'e tell yeh he tried to buy a dragon egg when he was just a wee fourth year?"

Before (Y/N) could shake her head, Charlie interrupted.

"I think she's heard enough embarrassing stories from George and Ginny this past week.”

(Y/N) wanted to say speak for yourself, but Hagrid conceded.

“Okey, okey," he said with a snort, holding up his massive hands in defense before turning back to (Y/N). "I hear yeh’re a natural with Norbeta. Isn't she a beaut?”

“Oh, you know her?” (Y/N) asked, surprised.

Hagrid looked at Charlie, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeh jus’ spent how many days with Harry and yeh haven’t told her the story yet? C’mon, I’ll tell yeh all about it on the way back to my hut.”

(Y/N) followed Charlie and Hagrid through the castle, trying hard to not ogle every new corridor or room that came into sight. She couldn’t believe her ears when Hagrid told her how the Sanctuary acquired Norberta, and (Y/N) felt a nostalgic tug at her chest. It had been nearly six months since that first day when she fed the Norwegian Ridgeback. Time really did fly when you were having fun.

It wasn’t until they reached Hagrid’s place that (Y/N) realized how far they walked. Since Hagrid had met them in the castle, she was confused why Charlie needed to bring the gloves all the way out here- Hagrid could have easily carried several boxes of them on his own.

“Here we are,” Hagrid said, propping open the door. “Yeh take as long as yeh need. Jus’ be sure teh come back for some tea before yeh leave, okey?”

Charlie smiled appreciatively at him. “Of course. Thanks, Hagrid.”

The door shut behind with a bang behind him and (Y/N) looked to Charlie for an explanation, now completely lost. “Take as long as we need for what?”

“Your Christmas present,” Charlie answered, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Her gaze flicked back and forth between Charlie and the castle. “But I thought Hogwarts was the present?”

“No, consider the castle a bonus.” He lead (Y/N) toward the forest off to the right and pointed to a trail in the distance. “The real present is in here.”

“Wait- is that-” She gaped at the dense, snow-covered forest ahead. “Holy shit, that’s the Forbidden Forest, isn’t it?”

Chuckling, Charlie said, “I’m starting to think you’re easily impressed.”

“Oh come on. Voldemort was in that Forest at one point. I know you grew up with it, but this is stuff I only got to read about in textbooks.” 

“Fair point. I guess it’s a good thing my mom never found out how much time I spent in here,” Charlie said, staring around at the tall trees as they continued walking. 

“Let me guess- looking for dragons?”

Charlie grinned. “Absolutely.”

“So, are you going to finally tell me what this is this all abo-” (Y/N) stopped dead in her tracks and lost the ability to speak as the answer to her question stared back at her. She blinked, gaping at the stormy grey Hippogriff standing less than twenty feet in front of her. Her gaze moved between the beautiful creature and the redhead, and she tried to form a sentence but had to squeeze her eyes shut as raw emotion knocked into her like a freight train.

“You still mad I got you a present?” Charlie asked.

She shook her head slowly, still unable to find the words.  She was so overwhelmed she was trembling- partially from missing such a stunning creature and partially from how unbelievably perfect Charlie was. “I- I can’t believe you did this for me.”

"You don’t even know the best part yet.”

(Y/N) blinked, unsure how this situation could get any better.

“This Hippogriff used to be Sirius Black’s after he escaped from Azkaban."

The remaining air left (Y/N)’s lungs, and she glanced up at Charlie, lips parted and throat dry.

“Harry helped Sirius escape on him in his third year, saving both Buckbeak and Sirius’ life.”

As (Y/N) looked back the Hippogriff, she could no longer stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. She quickly turned away from Charlie, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve and forcing out a laugh. “Dammit,” she hissed under her breath. “I’ve been burned and scratched by dragons for the last six months, but it’s a damn Hippogriff that makes me cry in front of you. Now who looks like a nutter.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it." Charlie's voice was low and soothing as he stepped closer to (Y/N). "I won’t tell the guys- as long as you promise they’re happy tears.”

(Y/N) laughed, nodding her head so fast it began to hurt. Without thinking, she flung her arms around Charlie, hugging him tightly around the waist. He was stiff at first but soon relaxed into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her back comfortingly. 

“You don’t know what this means to me,” she whispered against his chest. She stayed there for a moment, breathing in his honeysuckle and grass scent before pulling back slightly to look up at him. 

It was a big mistake because Charlie's body was too warm and his face was way too close. She could make out every last freckle on his smooth, pale skin and it took all of her willpower to not let her eyes drop to his mouth. Her whole body shivered and she held in breath as he smiled down at her, praying he couldn't feel how fast her heart was racing.

Boundaries.

She quickly let her hands fall away and stepped back, her body instantly feeling betrayed from the loss of his warmth and touch. “I just- how can I ever repay you for this?”

“By not telling Hank or Scott you beat me at Quidditch," he answered easily.

(Y/N) shook with laughter, her tears and sniffles now subsided. “Deal.” He always knew how to make her feel better.

The only problem was that as Charlie urged her toward the Hippogriff, encouraging her to ride him for a bit, (Y/N) realized she wasn’t just crushing on her best friend.

She was falling in love with him and had no idea how to stop it.

[macwalden]

Birthday Chaos pt. 1

where: Brenton Avery’s house who: Brenton Avery ( @beeavery​ ), Rabastan Lestrange ( @diisgustednoiise​ ), Freya Avery ( @freyasavery​ ), and Walden Macnair.

BRENTON was feeling pretty pleased with himself. The mac and cheese in the oven was looking (and smelling) good and he had laid the table properly and managed to stop Ash trying to put his toys on said table for five minutes. Not only that, but he had managed to get Rabastan there although so far he had failed to mention who the fourth place setting was for. He wasn’t ready to see Walden again himself and the idea of him and Rabastan and Brenton all being in one room at the same time seemed like a pretty bad idea at the moment. But they would do it. For Freya’s birthday. The crack of apparition just outside the boundary of the house’s wards was what made Brenton think maybe Rabastan did deserve a bit of a heads up. “You know how it’s Freya’s evening?” But his own lack of privacy when it came to knocking meant that his house had something of an open door policy for family so there wasn’t enough time before the handle started to turn. He gripped onto Rabastan’s hand and dragged him along with him into the hallway, Ash bounding alongside them.

RABASTAN had nothing against freya, in fact, he considered her to be a close friend. he wanted to help her celebrate, but he'd be lying if he didn't feel out of place at an intimate family dinner. and that didn't even begin to cover his feelings towards birthdays as a whole. in general, birthdays, or at least, his birthday, weren't celebrated in the lestrange household. he was unfamiliar with the entire concept, but still he helped with the preparations, even going as far as arranging a bouquet for the table. of course, he was still nervous, especially at the sight of the unexplained fourth place setting. for their father perhaps? though he was sure brenton would've given him notice if his father was attending. freya's date? that made more sense, but again, why hadn't brenton mentioned it? that left him with a sickening feeling, but he chose to ignore it, instead forcing a smile across his face as he reluctantly followed the other into the hallway. "is there something you're trying to tell me?" he asked, eyebrow arched as he turned his head to look at brenton.

FREYA walked into Brenton's house confidently, after pausing just a moment for a polite knock.  She wasn't usually all that concerned about barging in, but he had gone through the trouble of making her a birthday dinner; she could pretend to have manners for the evening. She wasn't necessarily surprised to see Rabastan.  Brenton's reaction at the Quidditch match after Seb had died told her that something was going on there.  And did he brother do friendships without the added benefit of the occasional hook up?  She wasn't sure, nor did she blame him.  Sex was fun.  Rabastan was a good friend, but he was very boring.  Maybe Brenton was trying to corrupt him a bit?  She could see the appeal in that -- or maybe they were just buddies.  She truly doubted it, but stranger things had happened.

"It's my birthday," she announced with a casual shrug.  Just in case the near daily reminders and the plastic tiara she had worked into her hair weren't enough of an indication.  "so I brought the cake."  She didn't bother to hold it out for them to expected, stepping between them and leading the way into the kitchen.  "Where's --" she stopped at the sound of someone else entering the house.  "Nevermind!"

It was the week of WALDEN and Freya's birthday but the older man definitely did not feel like it. At his age, celebrating every birthday felt more like an obligation than a celebration. But somehow, always having them with Brenton and Freya helps make it a little more bearable. But Walden knew that this celebration was going to be a problem precisely because of that. Ever since, Walden's confrontation with Brenton, he's been in somewhat of a downward spiral filled with booze and men to occupy the time. Just last night he sought out a very eager gentleman who was more than willing to leave marks all over his body. Marks that he didn't even bother to remove. He hadn't seen Brenton since the incident so he was certain that there would still be tension in the air between them. But as much as he wanted to ditch his own birthday celebration, family is family. And it's not only his birthday they were sharing a dinner for. It's also Freya's. The day finally comes and Walden dons a coat over his usual set of clothes without even bothering to cover up a sweet red spot just beneath his jaw. He strolled right through the open door with a bottle of vodka in his hands and a swagger that screamed fuck all. "And I brought vodka." he added as he appeared in the hallway walking straight towards them.  His eyes caught Freya and flashed a brief smile. "So where's my tiara?"

Freya proved a good enough distraction for BRENTON to avoid Rabastan’s question again. At least she was there first, although Brenton was quickly running out of time to bring up Walden. He had mentioned before that they grew up together, immediately after returning from the proposition Walden had set up with Jasper, but the explanation had been rushed and confused and likely didn’t leave Rabastan with the full impression of what ‘growing up together’ meant. Especially given Brenton had said that they used to fuck. He reluctantly let go of Rabastan’s hand to let Freya pass and as he turned to follow immediately reached out again for his other hand, but his eyes were on Freya, a mixture of fondness and amusement on his face at her tiara and the fact she had known he wouldn’t bother with a cake and the fact she had barely batted an eyelid to Rabastan being there. “Happy birthday, wean,” he said, reaching out to mess up her hair. The arrival of the final guest had Brenton’s body language changing completely. He pulled Rabastan close, an arm going around his shoulders. It was in part a comfort to himself but it was also a strong message to Walden that this was a thing and he would just have to accept that. An added bonus was stopping Rabastan from being able to apparate without risking a splinching if Brenton was holding onto him. “Happy birthday,” he said to Walden, his voice chilly compared to the way he had said it to Freya. He forced a smile onto his face as he turned his attention back to Freya and Rabastan but it was tense. “So many options. What would you two like to drink?” Besides the vodka there was all the drink Brenton always had kicking around: a combination of dark liquors, beers and white wine as well as a handful of random soft drinks that were more for show than for drinking.

"happy birthday, freya," RABASTAN greeted his friend with a smile as he moved back to allow her room to pass. if she was surprised by his presence, she did a good job of hiding it. and for that he was beyond thankful, he already felt incredibly out of place, the last thing he needed was for it to be pointed out. and perhaps, he thought, this night might be alright after all. freya was alone, which was a good sign, brenton may have gotten the number of place settings wrong. his question for brenton all but forgotten, a smile on his face as he turned to follow after freya. the cake looked amazing, not that he had doubted freya's skills for one second, and the fragrant smell of pasta and cheese filled the air. but of course, he had been too optimistic, as the familiar pop of apparation filled the air. but still, folding on to what little hope he had left he once more turned around, a forced smile on his face as he cast a glance at brenton before turning towards the door. he found brenton's gesture to be a bit unsettling, such a display of affection was rather unusual for them, but he leaned in, even allowing his shoulders to drop as he stood facing the door. every thing clicked the second walden entered, and it took ever ounce of his self control not to turn around and say something he'd later regret. he remained silent, eyes narrowed, shoulders tensed as he reluctantly followed behind the rest of the group. he thought about apparating, but seeing as he had no where to go, he decided against it. for now. not waiting for anyone to make their drink order, he moved towards the bottle of scotch and poured himself a rather generous glass. and taking a large sip of it, he reluctantly turned back around, choosing to remain silent. perhaps if he didn't say anything, they would jsut forget that he was there.

FREYA didn't say anything, just offered a cheerful smile to her brother and Rabastan.  It wasn't that she was unbothered -- she didn't get it, not really.  Rabastan was vanilla and Brenton was one tiny spoonful of all the flavors in the ice cream shop mixed together.  She supposed Rabastan had a nice body; and maybe he saved all his chaos for his bed mate.  It was something that she could respect, if she were being honest.  But it wasn't her business -- she was making a lot of assumptions, but she knew her brother well enough to know that he wouldn't have invited a casual friend over for their birthday dinner.  But he could fuck anyone he wanted -- she'd mind her own business. But as Walden appeared she grew interested again, setting their cake on the table and lowering herself onto the chair.  She knew he was joking, but when he asked where his tiara was she pulled the second birthday crown she had bought over out of her bag and passed it to him with a grin.  "Happy birthday!"

But the tension in the room seemed thick and it was fantastic.  Something had happened here.  And Brenton's arm around Rabastan was far more funny than it was sweet.  He was being a jealous... boyfriend?  "Are you two fighting?"  She asked curiously, looking between Brenton and Walden.  "I've got to go get my camera if you're going to throw punches, so warn me first, at least."

WALDEN didn't show that Brenton's public display of affection affected him. Sure, it made him slightly throw up bile in his mouth but he kept it in. He wasn't willing to give Brenton the satisfaction. At both the Avery's greetings, Walden just smiled humorlessly. He didn't even thank Brenton.  All he did was accept Freya's extra tiara and place it on his forehead. "Happy Birthday, Freya." At least with her, Walden was genuine. He was greeted twice but as far as he was concerned, there was one person who didn't greet him. He looked straight at Rabastan, even thought the younger man wasn't looking at him. "So no greetings for me?" Walden simply rolled his eyes and ignored Freya's comment. Walden was never one to throw punches. That's what wands are for. Since she didn't answer Brenton's question, he took it upon himself to answer the other male's question. He can't help but notice that Rabastan refused to answer as well. In fact, the boy slipped away from Brenton's grasp. Huh. Lover's quarrel maybe? Merlin, he hopes so. "Something dark, please," he said, already walking past all of them to head towards the table. "Got any rum?" he cried out, clearly not intending to make his own drink.

BRENTON gave Freya his best attempt at an innocent, wide-eyed look. "I've never fought anyone in my life," he said, even though all of them knew that was a lie. Although, he had no plans whatsoever to fight Walden today. It was their birthdays and they were having family time. He wouldn't ruin it by starting a fight. However irritated he was already feeling just from the mere presence of his old friend. He was happy for Rabastan to help himself to the scotch, because in his mind that's how it should be. If there was anyone who should feel enough at home to help themselves it was Rabastan. All three of them, actually, but mostly Rabastan. "I'll have scotch, too, if you're pouring," he said, a smile on his face that disappeared when Brenton found himself staring at Walden's back, resolution not to start a fight quickly forgotten. "You're not having the vodka? Of course you're not. You only want to share your things when it's something I don't want." Still, he wasn't that bothered that pouring Walden's drink was left to him. It gave him the chance to turn to Rabastan and tilt his head to indicate he wanted to talk to him away from the other two as he opened his liquor cabinet to get out the dark rum.

while the thought to help himself to walden's bottle of vodka had crossed RABASTAN’s mind, it would have required interacting with the older male and that was something he was in no rush to do. he knew it would happen sooner or later, but hopefully, after he'd consumed a considerable amount of alcohol. so, eyes narrowed, he held his glass to his mouth as he took another long sip of his scotch. if he wasn't worried about putting on a good front for freya's sake, he would've opted to drink straight from the bottle. but, it was probably in his best interest to not end up blacked out. so instead he found himself fighting the urge to roll his eyes, and trying even harder to avoid brenton's gaze. he knew the second their eyes met, he'd be unable to hold back his emotions. it was already taking a considerable amount of self control for him not to scream at brenton, letting his feelings about being lied too known. but, he'd make sure the other go an earful later. he chose to ignore freya's comment about the fight, hoping that brenton and walden would do the same. it was bad enough, they didn't need to talk about it, though he was certain it would come up sooner or later. but rather than dwelling on it, he turned to pour brenton a glass of scotch, purposefully under pouring, whilst also topping off his own glass. "here you go," he responded, his tone just a bit too hostile as he pushed the glass across the counter, before turning around. he wasn't interested in talking to brenton, not now. so instead he turned his focus to freya, "tell me, how has your day been so far?" he asked, an eyebrow arched as he moved to take a seat next to her.

FREYA tilted her head to the side, trying to hide the amusement on her face.  She had always been far too entertained when there was unspoken tension in the room.  It was a fun little game, trying to figure out what had happened before someone spilled.  Someone always spilled.  "You too," she grinned at Walden.  "I made your favorite."  She gestured at the cake.  "Even though it's only the second best sort." She was tempted to reach for a drink, but there'd be time for that later -- her eyes flicked from Walden to Brenton and then to Rabastan, who looked somewhere  between angry and uncomfortable.  He was involved too?  It seemed like Rabastan was on Brenton's side, of course he was.  Just another bit of evidence in the her former betrothed and her brother were hooking up column.  But if Rabastan and Brenton were on each other's side she supposed she should secretly cheer Walden on. "More for me," she said cheerfully, reaching forward for the vodka -- which was a disgusting drink, but she was on Walden's side for now so she did it for the team spirit.  She pour just a tiny bit in the glass and swirled it a bit before grabbing the soda and dumping the rest in the glass.  She smirked at Walden, sure he'd have something to say about her defacing perfectly good vodka and sat back down. When Rabastan pointedly ignored Brenton's not so subtle signal she raised her eyebrows.  Maybe they weren't on each other's side?  But they were totally fucking.  That was confusing, but she'd get the whole story before the night was done, she was sure of it.  "It's been good!  I baked and I went to take my father his gift.  And I slept in before all of that.  Went a bit too hard at a pub last night.  Yours not going so good?"  She sort of wanted Walden and Brenton to go away so she could plan some kind of prank or mild to moderate chaos to liven up the evening with Rabastan.  Maybe if she pretended the mac and cheese was on fire.

"Well that's not very polite, is it?" WALDEN muttered. He made sure that it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. "Didn't you guys tell him this was a joint birthday celebration?" he asked Freya and Brenton while deliberately ignoring Rabastan. He's very much disappointed at the Avery's for ignoring the fact that Rabastan didn't greet him as well. "Second best?" Walden asked Freya. "Are you trying to tell me that you hate me?" he joked. At the rate that the party is going, he wasn't even sure if they'll ever reach dessert. Walden kept his indecipherable mask on as Brenton questioned him not drinking the very drink he brought. Brenton's comment actually left something in him a little bruised. Just one little spat. One twat named Rabstan caught in between them. Now, Brenton's acting like Walden has never done anything for him that he actually wanted or needed.  Well two could play at that game. "Just wanted to start with something dark is all. Didn't know you don't like Vodka. I assumed something as tasteless like vodka would be up your alley." His eyebrow shot up when Rabastan slid the glass of scotch towards Brenton with hostility? Was there trouble in paradise? If so, then maybe the night might prove itself to be enjoyable after all.  Brenton clearly wanted some time alone with Rab but the other was clearly not having it so Walden took it upon himself to join Brenton while he made his drink. In a voice low enough so that the others won't hear, he asked Brenton, "So is this you making things official with dear Rabastan over there? You're really doing this on Freya's birthday?"

[littlemisssquiggles]

Ok so. Oscar as Nene (got drag to supernatural stuff like Os got drag to become a huntsman) Ruby as Hanako (playful, deeper than you think, family issue🤣😂) Jaune as Kou Pyrrha as Mitsuba GO BRAINSTORM NOW YA KNOW THE STORY OF HANAKO KUN🤣😂❤️❤️❤️

Hehehe,indeed I do know the story of Hanako-kun,Ly. Especially now that I’m all caught up with both the anime and the mangaseries. Although I will say this though, theanime adaptation of the Mitsuba chapter was one hundred times moreheartbreaking to see play out in animated form. I mean it was alreadysaddening to read about in the manga when I first started but to see it now infull living colour…my heart. Dem feelsman!

Andto imaging Pyrhha Nikkos being Jaune’sMitsuba in a RWBY-inspired Hanako universe is so tragically fitting thatit’s bloody perfect. Y’know it was actually @mojo72400 who first suggested thepotential of a Rosegarden AU based on Hanako-kun. However at the time, I ridiculouslythought that Toilet-Bound Hanako-kunwas about a anime girl who had to survive the social ladder of highschool witha terrible condition that forced to suffer from infrequent trips to the toilet.That’s what the title made me think the story was about. I know that soundssilly in hindsight but can you blame with a title like that? Now imagine howpleasantly surprised I was to realize that TBH was definitely better than I canever imagined.

Anyways,that being said, now that I’ve familiarized myself with the Hanako-universe(and have officially joined its fandom community---Whaddup my toilet-bounddudes!) you can bet your bum that I’m definitely game for a Barn- Bound Ruby Rose RWBY Rosegarden AU and I second the idea of Oscar Pine being the Nene ofthis universe.

Oh!But instead of Oscar being afflicted with the Mermaid’s Curse, let say…that Oscar’s curse is called the Pumpkinhead curse.

 Likeimagine…Oscar being a farm-bred countrypumpkin who had to move to the city to attend high school and becauseof this, he’s affectionately been christened the nickname of “country pumpkin” by his peers.

Let’s say…that much like Nene, Oscar’sstory was that he had a crush on one of his upperclassman and wanted to make awish to change his appearance so that his crush could finally notice him andmaybe become his girlfriend. Let’s say…that having grown up on a farm far outin the countryside, Oscar has always dreamed of living in the city and hadbasically dreamt up this little fantasy of what his dream “highschool experience”would be and for the sake of this AU, one of his ambitions was somehow becomingthe proud lovingly devoted boyfriend of the most popular girl at school.

Nowaccording to rumours around the school, Oscar’s crush liked “tall handsome city boys” so unfortunatelyfor Oscar, his small, cute farm boy look wasn’t going to cut it for him inwinning over the affection of his future girlfriend.

Atfirst Oscar thought that his luck with his crush might not change until heheard a rumour about one of the schools Seven Mysteries. Mystery No. 7---TheRuby Rose of the Abandoned Barn house in the back of the school compound.Basically the deal was that the Ruby Rose was supposed to be some kind ofsupernatural jinn who grant one wish to anyone who is able to successfullysummon it.

Longstory short, Oscar goes to the barn in hopes that he could successfully summonthe Ruby Rose. But to Oscar’s surprise, rather than summoning a super imposingmystical genie of the magic arts here to grant him any wish he so desired likehe had imagined in his impressionable overactive farm boy imagination, Oscarinstead finds a ghost girl dressed in a red hood who addresses herself as RubyRose.

Basicallythe idea I’m having here is that before making the choice to go live in thecity, Oscar lived a rather sheltered life in a small town where the only thinghe had to connect with were books that his aunt would lend him. So because ofthis, let’s say Oscar has a skewed,child-like impression of what the real world is. In a nutshell, he’s very naïve. Not stupid. Just gullibleenough to believe a silly school rumour about a supernatural being who cangrant him his wish to make him desirable enough for his crush to love him.

(YesI know that sounds silly and totally out of character for Oscar but since Oscaris meant to be Nene here I tried to give him the key Nene-isms---her thirst for the love of the oppositesex--- while maintaining some of his canonical RWBY traits).

Anyways;like I said---Oscar successfully summons Ruby: He didn’t really have to domuch. Just leave a plate of chocolate chip cookies and milk in the centre ofthe room while say “Ruby Rose” three times.

Howevershenanigans happen which result in Oscar failing to get his wish from Ruby who,as it turnt out, can’t really do anything to change Oscar’s appearance.

Thisthen leads to Oscar eating a cursed cookie that he took off of Ruby.Let’s say…the cookie is heart-shapedwith red velvet icing and strawberry hearts on one side while the other side wasdecorated like a Halloween pumpkin face.

Let’s say…the idea behind thecookie---the Cursed Pumpernickelcookie--- is that should two people share the cookie, they would be boundedtogether for all eternity and live a lifetime of love, happily ever after.However should the pair’s love not be mutually reciprocated with only one halfof the cookie being eaten, the recipient of the eaten half shall fall prey tothe Pumpkinhead curse.

Thisis what ends up befalling poor Oscar. The idea I had was that, much like Nene,Oscar pilfered Cursed Pumpernickel off of Ruby while she was sifting throughher pocket for another token to help him “woo” his crush.

Whenasked about the cookie, Ruby harmlessly informs Oscar about the “power” of thePumpernickel cookie, not thinking that Oscar would ever be so foolish enough to actually eat itknowing the details of its curse. However, unfortunately for Ruby, Oscar wasthat foolish and eats one of half of the Pumpernickel cookie with the intentionof giving the other half to his crush to bind them together forever.

Let’s say…in this AU, Oscar’s crush is Neon Katt. Like Oscarhas had a crush on her since his first day of high school, falling head overheels in love with her just because she and her friends were close with Oscar’supperclassman pals and Neo was always super nice and affectionate withOscar---y’know like your best friend being nice to your kid brother who has anobvious crush on her type of scenario.

SoOscar goes to give Neon the other half of the Pumpernickel but as he does,their moment is interrupted by Flynt. Let’ssay…in this AU, Flynt and Neon areclose childhood best friends who’ve secretly had feelings for each other foryears. (Because in the squiggle shire, we still ship Funky Cat or whatever the name of Flynt x Neon’s ship is). So Flyntconfesses his love to Neon and much to Oscar’s heartache, Neon reciprocates hisfeelings. She even forgets that Oscar was even standing there before Flyntreminds her of his presense.

Butas Neon goes to take the reaming half of the Pumpernickel that Oscar was aboutto offer her, Oscar, doing his best to hide his sadness, makes up some cock andbull story about the cookie being bad and no longer good enough to give Neonanymore. He then congratulates Flynt and Neon on their newfound relationshipbefore running off; claiming to be returning to class.

Assaid, Oscar is heartbroken---realizing how foolishhe had been for pursuing Neon. But before Oscar could lament on hisfoolishness, he is suddenly overtaken by the Pumpkinhead Curse. Oscar is turned into a pumpkin. Thenext thing Oscar knows he opens what he assumesto be his eyes, looking up to find Ruby standing over him. However for some oddreason, Oscar could no longer feel his hands or his legs. He suddenly feels very, very different.

Itis then when Ruby holds up a mirror to Oscar to show his new pumpkin body---asmall bright orange pumpkin with a fluffy head of leaves and vines which Rubyhad been kind enough to carve out his eyes and mouth so he could see and talkto her. She even took the liberty of carving out tiny holes where Oscar’sfreckles would be on his face.

WhyI like the concept of Oscar’s curse being the Pumpkinhead curse is, not justbecause it was inspired by the Oz character of the same name but mainly becauseof a quote that Jack Pumpkinhead said after he had first come to life:

“…It will take me alittle time to discover whether I am very wise or very foolish…”

 Ilike the idea of Oscar winding up cursed because his affection for Neon and hisdesperation to have her return his feelings had made him foolish in his pursuitof love or something along those lines. I like this idea just as much as I likethe idea of those afflicted with the Pumpkinhead Curse ending up becomingpumpkins to be added to the patch of a supernatural entity known as the PumpkinKing.

Y’knowhow in Hanako, we had the Mermaid Queen apparition who told Nene that if shebecame her servant she would be loved by her and her fish people? Well for thisAU, my idea is that Oscar would become apumpkin in the Pumpkin King’s Patch to be marriedoff to one of his literal spoiled rotten pumpkin-headed children. Sobasically by being cursed, Oscarunintentionally set himself up to become the future groom to the Pumpkin King’s eldest daughter whose been knownto eat her husbands, much to the farm boy’s dismay since not only did henot want to be a pumpkin for the rest of the life but he certainly did not wantto be married off to a pumpkin either at the tender age of 14.

Soto avoid becoming the Pumpkin Princess’ latest snack and umpteenth deadhusband, Ruby makes Oscar a deal he couldn't refuse. Much like Hanako did withNene, Ruby binds herself to Oscar and becomes his "girlfriend" as a means of keeping the Pumpkin King fromclaiming him for his daughter (which basically becomes like a sort of runninggag with the Pumpkin King and his minions constantly trying to persuade orstraight up kidnap Oscar into becoming the future little Pumpkin Prince).

Andto seal to deal that they were now bound together, Ruby eats the other half ofthe cursed Pumpernickel Cookie before kissing Oscar while he was still inpumpkin form which turns him back into a proper human boy.

Sobasically Oscar also ends up losing hisfirst kiss to Ruby; much to the farm boy’s embarrassment.

Butbottom-line, Ruby and Oscar were now bound together through the PumpkinheadCurse. However, because she had went out of her way to help him, Oscar beingbound to Ruby almost meant that he owed her indefinitely.

Andconsidering that Ruby was now Oscar's quote unquote "girlfriend", she pretty much make lives up to that titleby ensuring that Oscar played the part of her so-called lovingly devoted“boyfriend”, wading on the jubilantly childish yet mysterious apparition handand foot while additionally assisting her in her maintenance of the balancebetween the living and supernatural world. Because in Oscar’s case, it waseither that or being a talking pumpkin head turned pumpkin groom married to hisgiant pumpkin wife in constant fear of being eaten for the rest of his life.And that’s my idea for Oscar’s Nene-inspired story for this AU which I guess canwork as a nice little basis for it. Y'know do something similar to the originalHanako series but with a squigglytwist to it, in a sense. Besides I love the concept of Oscar being a cutelittle pumpkin more than him being a fish like Nene. But that's my idea.

Asfor the rest of the RWBY cast as Hanako-inspired characters---Well... as Imentioned before, I really dig your idea of Jaune being the Kou of thisuniverse. We can even maintain the same idea by having him come from a longline of spirit warriors dubbed the Arc-Angels or “Arc Knights” (see what I did there) with his older sister Saphronbeing a more experienced one watching over her brother’s development whilesimultaneously acting as a teacher at his high school along with her wife:Terra Cotta who is the school librarian. I like the idea of Terra beingcompletely oblivious to her wife and her family’s connection to thesupernatural world due to Saphron wishing to keep both her wife and their toddlerson away from that kind of life style. Perhapsyou can even have an idea where Saphron abandoned her duties as an Arc Knightbecause she desired a normal life with a family of her own.

Perhaps…you can have somethingwhere the Arc Knights, being the only spirit warrior family within the mainsetting of the story, were the sworn protectors of the land of the living;working to exorcise any wayward apparitions.

Let’ssay Saphron estranged herself from her family, choosing to work more closely withthe apparitions to focus on maintaining better peace between the two worlds. Butbecause Saphron had left, her baby brother Jaune was forced to take her placeand the two share an interesting dynamic where Jaune wants to prove that hecould be a great spirit warrior who won’t quit like his sister did and Saphronhas to look out for him while feeling guilty for partially making Jaune thewarrior that he was now. That’s one idea.

Nowthat I think about it. This type of story could also work for Weiss and Winter. Like I can easilypicture Weiss being an alternate version for the Kou character of this universewith Jaune being her Mitsuba. OR…perhapsin this AU, the Schnees were a rival spiritwarrior/ exorcist family to the Arcs?

Perhaps…unlike the Arcs who were open to working inharmony with the apparitions, the Schnees were not. Instead the Schneesused their family power to enslave apparitions and use them as their pawns incombat.

Let’ssay, while the Arc Knights adhered to the old school spirit warrior code, theSchnees were necromancers---summoningthe dead to fight their battles for them with little respect their pasthumanity when they were alive which the Arc family greatly frowned upon. (Imean the Schnee family semblance is practically the RWBY equivalent ofnecromancy so in this case it works)

Perhaps…you can even have athing where Jaune and Weiss are rivals coming from strong spirit warrior/exorcistfamily bloodlines or clans so the two basically grew up opposing one anotherfrom birth.

Howeverlet’s say… Jaune secretly has feelings for Weiss and at first Weiss didn’tcare much for Jaune; choosing to focus mainly on maintaining her family’s honouras encouraged by her older sister Winter.

Howeverlet’s say…Weiss ultimately shows asofter side to herself, taking an interest in Jaune’s wellbeing as a “friendwho knew him” after he gets himself involved with a ghost girl named Pyrhha (whowas resurrected by darker apparition) and started committing some questionable acts. Or something alongthose lines.

Idefinitely dig the idea of the Arcs and the Schnees being rival clans whomaintain balance in the supernatural and living world---but while the Arcscoexist in harmony with the apparitions on parlayed allegiance with theMysteries (such as Ruby Rose), the Schnees have a different way of doing thingsdespite fighting for the same cause. And this rivalry is reflected in thecharacter dynamics of Weiss and Jaune (who are students of Oscar’s highschooland his fellow upperclassman) and also their older sisters---Winter andSaphron. I’m going to change my earlier concept. I’m going to make Saphron theschool librarian along with her wife Terra while Winter Schnee is the homeroomteacher of Oscar’s class. Yeah that’s better, I like that better.

Movingalong, I definitely like the idea of Norabeing Oscar's version of Aoi-chan. Since Oscar is the focal character herein Nene’s role, I think Nora can work really, really well as the person acts asthe closest thing to a best friend he has.

Or….maybeJaune can be Oscar’s best friend in this AU but Nora is still his Aoi-chan? Maybeyou can even add a little detail where Nora is Oscar’s foster sister. Like perhaps…in this universe, the Arcs arelong-time friends of Oscar’s family (meaning his aunt and uncle in the farcountry) who were more than willing to allow him to live under their roof whilehe’s in the city pursuing his high school education.

Sobasically let’s say, in this AU, Oscar lives with Jaune who is staying withSaphron and Terra. Baby Adrian alsoexists in this AU too so Oscar and baby Adrian interactions and hijinks canensue.

Ialso like the idea of Nora and Ren also beingtenants of the Cotta-Arc household. Let’ssay…Ren and Nora are basically Jaune’s best friends and adopted siblingswho were taken in by the Arc family when they were kids and ultimately movedout with Jaune to live with his sister.

Soin a nutshell, in this AU, Team JNPR 2.0 or ALPN live together with Jaune, Renand Nora maintaining their roles as Oscar’s surrogate big brothers and sisterand the closest thing to friends he has at school.

Let’s say…in this AU, due to hiscountry upbringing and his introverted demeanour, Oscar has been having a hardtime adjusting to the city and making friends in his new school and class. Butat least he had his big brother Jaune and friends to look out for him.

Asa matter of fact, I love the idea of Ren and Nora being the Aoi and Akane ofthis AU only with a small difference. Much like Aoi and Akane, Ren and Nora arechildhood best friends with Nora having an obvious crush on Ren.

Butrather than Nora being revealed to be one of the Mysteries like Akane, I'm moredigging the idea of Ren being partapparition and the first time he reveals this is to protect Nora. Like imagine…Nora constantly being the onepursuing Ren making her feelings for him obvious just like in RWBY but we don’tknow how Ren feels for Nora. We know he definitely cares for her but we're notaware of his love for her until he reveals himself as one of the Clock keepersto save Nora. 

Likeperhaps Oscar, Ruby and Jaunebelieved that Nora might’ve been masquerading as one of the Seven Mysteries dueto her mysterious dark past sharedwith Ren only for Ren to intervene and reveal himself as the true supernatural.I think that can work.

Asfor who I think the Mysteries in this AU could be, that's definitely tricky---Iknow I definitely want Ozpin to be part of the Three Clock-keepers alongsideRen. Oz can be the Clock-keeper of the Past, Ren the present but I’m not surewho the Clock Keeper of the Future would be to stir up trouble. I kind of low-key want to make Zwei theClock Keeper of the Future. Why? Having a sentient doggo control the futureand wreak havoc? Sure why not XD  

Asfor Mystery No. 2, I’m thinking maybe Blake? Perhaps her mystery could be called “The Staircase of the Beast”?Perhaps this title was shared by her and her “lover” in this universe beforethings turned Grimm when bad rumours started to spread about her lover whichturned them into a beastly monster as a result of it. 

Likeyou can say that originally Blake’s mystery was called “The Belladonna Staircase” and it used to be a sort of romanticspot that blessed couples until the rumours turned her mystery into the“Staircase of the Beast” which only preys on couples.

Ithink that can work swimmingly. As for who would play Blake’s lover in this AU,I don’t care. I’ll leave that for you or anyone to insert whoever you shipBlake with, Ly. I’m not touching that can of worms =_=);

Movingalong, since we established that Pyrhha is the Mitsuba in this AU, she willbecome Mystery No. 3.

Asfor Mystery No. 4, I think Penny works excellently here. I can definitelypicture Penny P. as one of the Seven Mysteries. Not to mention that herpersonality certain reminds me a lot of Shijima Mei.

Thesame can be said for Qrow Branwen as Mystery No. 5. His personality definitelymatches Tsuchigomori the most, at least in my opinion.

Asfor Mystery No. 6, well since the manga is now getting to touch base on hischaracter and storyline as one of the Seven Mysteries, I don’t quite know muchabout him as yet. So I’ll hold off on my choice on who could play his role fromthe RWBY universe.

Lastly,as for who will be our broadcasting clubtrio in this AU; well I think it should be obvious. In my eyes, I’mthinking Cinder Fall could play a goodequivalent to Tsukasa Yugi. While she may not share the family relation asTsukasa does to Hanako/Amane Yugi, I still think that Cinder can work as Ruby’santithesis given their connection from the canonical series.

Notto mention that Cinder Fall is the one character who can match Tsukasa’s eerilymalicious nature, in my opinion. So with Cinder as Tsukasa, this puts EmeraldSustrai and Mercury Black as her versions of Sakura and Natsuhiko with Emerald,of course, being the one bonded to Cinder like Ruby is to the Oscar.

Ithink that aspect of it definitely works a lot. But again these are just only my ideas I’m spouting. Nonetheless, letme know what you think Ly?

Didthis squiggle meister deliver well onserving up enough good brainstorming food for ya ;) I hope I did. Cheers fam!

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

[lordraizen]

❝ Thank you, now let's go, I have a few people to see. ❞

He said, as he rose back to his full height, glancing down to her. To give her respect, he didn't playfully offer his hand, but rather ... gently rested his hand to her back. She was small && he didnt think, she would appreciate a ride on his shoulders. Walking beside her, he kept from touching her, as to not spook the red eyed doe.

❝ We'll be seeing an old witch doctor of a demon, but she is harmless .... so dont be scared, little red eyed doe. ❞

     ( truth be told that yukina had heard of this demon king before, but hearing stories about him did intimidate her in some aspects. thought it was either dumb luck that she’s still alive, or the fact that raizen knew her comrades. she wondered if he viewed them the same way she did…

     ( “ ah… if you’d like me to, i don’t mind.. “ the ice apparition would answer in truth, blinking as she’d allow a cant of her own head to the side. 

[harunoheart]

Oneirophrenia C7

Oneirophrenia C7

———————

Sasuke Uchiha

———————

The next morning we woke up at sunrise. The fire pit was still smoldering from the night before, a few coals glowing in the pile of ashes.

I threw some dirt on the coals to suffocate the flame and did a final check on our rations for the day. Our goal was to travel for a few hours at most, just a quick here and back trip to test Sakura’s distance theory...but we packed enough for two days, just in case.

“Are you ready to go?” She asked, looking up as she laced her boots. Her backpack sat next to her, full of medical supplies she preemptively summoned last night.

I gave her a quick affirmation and pulled out a few barrier tags from my cloak. Placing three in a triangulated position around our campsite, I activated the seal with my chakra and watched the campsite shimmer into the background of the forest. That should protect us from unexpected visitors, at least the human ones.

Squirrels always seemed to find their way through these things.

Sakura walked up beside me and slung her bag over her shoulder with a determined smile on her face. “You’re up first, Sasuke-kun.”

Concentrating my chakra into my eyes I felt the Rinne-sharingan whirring to life. My vision shifted into hyper awareness and as a breeze passed through the forest I was suddenly aware of every leaf falling off the trees as the first signs of autumn made itself clear.

Out of my peripheral, I could see Sakura tightening the Velcro on her gloves, anticipating anything. Her forearms flexed and I could see her pulse racing in her wrist. I turned my head so she wasn’t in my line of sight while I opened the portal.

Focusing all my chakra I picked a fixed point in space. Visualizing a pinprick sized hole tearing wider and wider still. The trees began to distort and the portal came into view, black and ominous and wildly unstable.

I could only keep it open for a moment or two. Widening the portal until we could safely jump through we were finally ready to begin our mission.

“Let’s go.”

————

Stepping through the portal felt like jumping into a magnetic field. You can feel the shifting of the atmospheric pressure as we entered the mountain range.

The sky glowed with an ominous green, but the sun rose in the east, just like home. You could see the hazy outline of the moon where Kaguya and Zetsu are imprisoned, fading into the sky as the sunlight filtered through the atmosphere.

Sakura looked around, scanning our surroundings for threats. “So far so quiet,” she said, kneeling down to the earth. Grabbing a handful of dirt from the ground she examined the soil. “It’s damp, and cool, it probably rained a few days ago. There’s potential for sustaining plant life but...” she looked around again straining her eyes into the distance, “not a tree in sight.”

“Grab a sample, everything helps.” I allowed my eyes to rest from the strain, a headache beginning to form. Sakura took a vial from her bag, packing the dirt inside and capping it with a cork before labeling it with the Kanji for mountain again.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me as the flow of chakra to my eyes suddenly halted. I pinched the bridge of my nose and waited for the headache to pass. On my left I heard the sound of water sloshing in a bottle.

“Here, take a break. It’s my turn,” she smiled, handing me the drink. I gratefully took it while she rummaged through her bag for supplies.

Sakura pulled out a Kunai and a stack of what appeared to be exploding tags. I watched as she wrapped the handle of the knife with the parchment and pricked her finger on the blade, placing a drop of blood on the handle before embedding it in the dirt on the top of the peak we stood on.

“How good is your eyesight?” She asked, putting the extra tags back in the bag.

“Do you have to ask?” I said, raising an eyebrow at her.

She rolled her eyes, “If we run into trouble, this beaconing tag is coded to my chakra. Wherever we end up, I can activate it to send up a flare so we can find this location again.” Sakura ran her other hand over the pinprick to heal. Her hand glowed green as she continued, “if we need to, can you use Amenotejikara to switch places with the kunai, or do you need something bigger?”

As to be expected, Sakura continues to surprise and impress me. Her analytical skill is almost at the level of Shikamaru.

“Theoretically, a kunai should work, but I’ve never brought anyone else with me with my Amenotejikara.”

“Then we will have to test your range with it while we explore.” She said smiling. Getting up off the ground and dusting off her knees she maintained the sparkling sense of optimism she had as a kid. I’ll never admit it out loud but it made the work feel less heavy. I appreciated it.

“Your theory about relative dimensional space seems to be holding up so far. The sun seems to be rising in the same direction as back in our world. We should travel A few miles south. If you’re right, we should be able to open up another portal closer to the main road we traveled on.”

Sakura nodded in affirmation and we began to walk, the kunai glinting in the sunrise behind us.

——

“Sasuke?”

“Hn...”

“You see it too...right?”

“....yeah.”

The valley in front of them shimmered like a prism, reflecting light in a soft wave that seemed to breathe with the landscape. It looked like a barrier of some kind, stretching out across the mountains for miles beyond where we could see.

Sakura picked up a rock from the floor and tossed it at the apparition from where we stood, a good 30 feet away. It appeared to fall right through, not disturbing or awakening anything, so we cautiously got closer.

Looking up towards the sky the shimmer stretched into the cloudless blue, its iridescent reflection glittering in the sun.

“Sasuke, look...” Sakura pointed straight ahead. Our outlines began to reflect themselves in the prism, like a cloudy haze. The figures mirrored ours as Sakura lifted her right arm, the reflection moved it’s left. “Do you think it’s some sort of genjutsu?”

“It’s definitely a trap. Until we know what it does, we should be cautious,” I said. Sakura nodded in agreement, grabbing a kunai from her pouch and preparing for a fight. Out of my periphery I see her try to take a step forward, and instinctively blocked her movement with my arm.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Naruto isn’t here, so one of us has to,” her hand reached up to grab mine, “And you’re out of chakra,” she said, shoving past me without hesitation and approached the shimmer in front of her. Her hazy reflection did the same, gaining clarity with each step. Soon she was face to face with a mirror image with an iridescent sheen.

Sakura moved her head side to side and watched as the copy did the same. She side stepped, and the copy moved in sync with her, but with a slight lag. I readied my grip on my sword and stepped closer, poising to interfere.

Slowly, Sakura reaches out towards her shimmery self and smiles. The reflection smiles back. My heart suddenly raced with anxiety as they got closer...I had a bad feeling about this...

Their fingertips touched and it was like the world collapsed.

“Look out!!” I yelled, drawing my sword. But it was too late...

The shimmer collapsed and I heard Sakura scream. Running towards her as she collapsed on the ground I don’t see any sign of the shimmery Sakura or of the barrier that divided the valley. I scooped Sakura off the ground and propped her up against a nearby boulder.

Her face shimmered with an iridescent sheen before fading back into her skin.

“Sakura...Sakura wake up,” I shook her shoulder and pressed my hand against her cheek. She was still breathing, but was fully unconscious. Great. Im out of chakra and my teammate is passed out.

I couldn’t even tell if she was under a genjutsu or not. I drew my sword and decided to scan the surroundings again. The shimmer was gone, and the horizon looked the same as it did in every other direction. Full of fucking mountains. I grit my teeth and tried to strategize the next move when I heard a deep, guttural laugh from behind me.

A chill went down my spine as I turned around.

Another deep, sinister laugh erupted from Sakura’s chest. She straightened up and her eyes glosses over with a dark haze.

The smile on her face was not hers anymore, it was sadistic and dangerous.

Ice ran through my veins as I saw her body become possessed. My heart dropped in my chest and I took a step backwards, gripping the handle of my sword.

“Aaah...Finally!,” she laughed, her hands rising up in front of her face. She clenched her fists, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Some fresh fucking air.” She pulled the hitai-ate off her hair and shook it out, tousling it so it was more loose and messy than usual.

“Who are you?” I asked, ready to strike at any moment. Sakura looked at me confused.

“Who am I?” She asked, raising a finger to her chin to ponder she finally “What do you mean, Sasuke-Kun? It’s just me....” She drawled out and feigned an innocent look before a smirk found its way into her face. She bit her lip playfully and I tried not to think about why I felt a blood rush.

Shit. This was bad.

I pulled the sword from its sheath and pointed the blade at her neck. I didn’t want to hurt her though, so this was going to be difficult. I needed my sharingan so I could get inside her mind and figure out why she was acting like this.

“Leave her. Now.” She laughed again, stepping towards me.

“Oh please,” she said, her voice low and dripping with sarcasm, “I’ve been here the whole time, Sasuke-kun. Hiding in plain sight,” she touched her fingertip to the blade and sliced it. Without breaking eye contact with me she put the wounded finger into her mouth and moaned. “That shimmery thing probably just scrambled my consciousness around,” she pondered, healing her finger, “I have an awful headache...” she pouted.  

I still didn’t have enough chakra to activate my sharingan, I needed to stall her. I pressed the blade against her throat instead. “What are you?” She smiled sweetly, her face looking so much like the girl I knew but those ghostly eyes left me feeling uneasy. I had to think fast, how do I free her from this without...

With a flick of her finger, the blade shattered. Disintegrated down to the hilt until I was left with nothing but the leather grip in my hand. In my surprise she caught me off guard and stepped in closer.

“Mmm...” she sighed, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. “Are you worried?” She sighed, melancholic and a little pouty. Her fingertips traced my collarbone through my shirt, I looked down to see her usual bright green eyes were now dark, like a forest. Her chakra felt the same, but it had a different flow to it now. Usually it ebbed as naturally as breathing, but now...now it was almost playful. It reminded me of the Ninneko, when their tails would sway back and forth before pouncing.

“Think of me like a Genjutsu. Sakura’s hidden will. She created me on accident, a long time ago. When she was just a little girl struggling to find herself. I’ve been here since before we even met you.”

Her hand reached up to grab my jawline and she held it firmly in her grasp as she leaned in, stopping just before kissing me.

“Do you want to know where she is?” She whispered.

I didn’t answer.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. We share the same heart after all. My attraction to you however, is a little more...primal than hers...that is if you feel the need to differentiate. Technically I’m just unrestrained.” She dragged her fingertip under my chin and stepped away with a flick of her wrist. “I’ll give you some of my chakra if you want, so you can find her in my memories.” She held out her hand, smirking. “Unless you wanna have a different kind of fun,” she winked.

Ignoring the uncomfortable forwardness of THAT...her offer felt like a trap. “What’s the catch.”

“No catch, Sasuke-kun. But I’m warning you, it’s not very pretty in here,” she pointed to her head. “And now that I’m the one awake, all of her demons have come out to play. All the hatred, sadness, and suffering we endured is being let out of all the little boxes she put us in to ‘compartmentalize’. You just need to find which one has dragged her under. Sakura manifested me out of her fear of being anything less than delicate,” She sneered at the word like it was poison. “There is an entire realm in her mind that belongs to me and the illusion she created to restrain herself in reality. This is where you need to start your search for her consciousness. I’m warning you though...it doesn’t take kindly to visitors, just ask Ino.”

“What does the Yamanaka have to do with this?”

“See for yourself,” She said, holding out her hand .

I weighed the options...and hesitantly reached out.

The rush of chakra filled my body like a glass of water and my sharingan spun to life.

———————

Sakura Haruno

———————

Am I ...dead?

I felt myself blink but the world around me was nothing but darkness.

What happened?

I lifted my hands and was pleasantly surprised I could see them. I looked down at my feet, bare and standing in...water?

Cautiously, I took a step forward. The sound of water splashing with my footsteps echoed in the darkness.

Where am I?

I looked around, but saw nothing but black. I took a few more steps forward but heard a sound coming from behind me. I turned around to find a younger version of myself, crouched down near the ground and crying softly.

Coming face to face with my younger self was...jarring. I was so small...

My hair was choppy and growing in uneven, it covered my tiny round face in a halfhearted attempt to hide. I kind of wanted to laugh, the little pout on my baby face was so cute and sad at the same time. I remember feeling like an outcast, being teased.

I know now that what I went through wasn’t anything compared to what Naruto had to deal with growing up but as a child that was my reality. My world was so small, and I stayed safe for a long time.

I walked towards her and crouched in front.

She looked up at me and wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself. Putting on a brave face before looking up at me.

“I’m lost...” she said softly, wiping the tears from her face.

“Me too,” I smiled, holding out my hand, “Do you want to look with me?”

I wasn’t even sure what we were looking for, but it beat sitting in the darkness.

The little me nodded and took my hand, and without anything else to do - we started walking.

————

Sorry for the VERY late update everyone. I just had to pick up and move my entire life across the country so I’ve had a lot on my mind. But the new Sasuke Retsuden spoilers are giving me LIFE and I’m ready to jump into writing this story again.

I have a lot planned, and a lot of puzzle pieces to assemble so bare with me.

Hope you enjoy!

[sweetlangdon]

From Eden: Chapter 1

Notes: Evil Power Couple fic. It’s difficult to write a summary for this one, because I don’t want to give away the twists. (It’ll also include canon rewrite/divergence for the later half of the season.) It has plenty of angst and fluff, and a bit of character study.

Warnings: swearing, lots of murder, blood... 

The rest of this fic can be found on my masterlist and AO3. It’s currently in progress.

She was in the library, alone, when she heard his footsteps.

She knew it was him. It couldn’t be anyone else but him. He’d been here for little more than a day, but the hypnotic, precise cadence of his boots against the polished floors was unmistakable. Eighteen months of relative solitude, never knowing whether it was day or night—not that it mattered much anymore now that the Earth had become a ruined wasteland—had given her plenty of time to parse the sounds of Outpost 3. The whisper of the Grays, floating along balconies and down the narrow, sleek corridors like apparitions. The insistent tap of Ms. Venable’s cane as if it were a ticking clock, a warning, a threat. Ms. Mead’s practiced rhythm, heavy and quick, past their doors like some nocturnal predator on the hunt for a kill.

The other Purples were shuffling steps and clinking glasses, a crescendo of voices that echoed across the labyrinth of their underground shelter. They were all energy and rage with nowhere to run, so it slipped out into the quiet halls and rooms, an explosion of frayed nerves and short tempers.

Eighteen months had been a lifetime. It didn’t feel like surviving. It felt like a prison sentence, a slow and endless march on cracked glass wondering when it would break and where they would fall. That same restless anger had burned in her veins, too. Those nights where she lay awake listening to the crackle of the fire until it finally lulled her to sleep. Days when she couldn’t summon enough willpower to do anything but lock the door to her suite and cry until her chest ached. She found that it was easier to keep quiet, to bury the pain somewhere else when she wasn’t alone. Obey the rules, however ridiculous they were. Remain invisible and non-threatening.  

She’d been used to not drawing attention. She could’ve been a Gray, she thought, if fate were different. But she didn’t really know a damn thing about fate; nothing seemed to make sense anymore, so did it matter? Her parents had immediately pooled their funds, no questions asked. One hundred million dollars, she’d find out after the fact. She didn’t even know they’d had that much. And she didn’t have time to consider what it all meant, didn’t particularly give a fuck about being a part of the elite—she felt more like an imposter. Some outsider with enough luck to be born to parents who built their wealth, however meager it had been compared to the others, from the ground up.

The bare minimum of social interaction had gotten her this far at least. Amiable conversations traded across the table while they choked down their tasteless meal. A hushed exchange of words in a shadowed corridor with a passing Gray. Obligatory grumbling over the songs that broke through the static on relentless, agonizing loops, a ghostly thread to the world before all of this. Just enough to play whatever game they were trapped in and survive one more day, one more week, one more month.

Nothing was permanent here, and the last thing she wanted was to become entangled in their drama and end up on the outside. Left to the ravaged Earth as the radiation poisoned her body and the toxic air squeezed the breath from her lungs. Put down like some dying animal, the cold barrel of a gun pressed to the back of her head. Her parents didn’t sacrifice every last cent they’d owned for her to just fuck up her chances because of some dumbass mistake.

It was easier to be alone. The library wasn’t empty that often, but when the occasion arose, she took it. There was a shred of peace here. The faint scent of smoke mingled with the clean aroma of linen and beeswax from the candles. The spines of the books crammed in the shelves flickered back at her as golden light wavered over them. She’d tucked herself into a corner of one of the black leather couches, her knees drawn up under her gown. It was some kind of eighteenth century-inspired monstrosity in a deep shade of violet; she thought it might have been prettier if there weren’t so many ruffles. Lace dripped from the satin sleeves at her elbows. Her wardrobe was full of it—lace and voluminous layers of fabric, pleated and gathered into elegant styles from another time. She gave them credit for committing to the aesthetic. After a year and some months, it was beginning to grow on her.

Her mind had stayed occupied with help from the Outpost’s library. She had discovered early on that the shelves held an extensive collection of essential literary works. She’d almost expected them to be nothing but a decoration, an illusion of comfort. She read them slowly, savoring each page, each word, not knowing how long they would need to last. Before the world went straight to hell she’d been a year shy of graduation. Hunkering down in a room full of books felt familiar, as though she was back in the library on her manicured university campus studying for finals. As if this was normal for just a little while. As if their sequestered world wasn’t the only fucking thing left.

She turned a page, partially aware that she didn’t remember what she’d read in the past few minutes. Her focus was gone, the words turning into incomprehensible smudges of ink across the paper. His footsteps matched her pulse until all she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears. And then suddenly he was there in the threshold—she caught him on the edge of her periphery, a silent shadow. She stared at the book in her lap but the words still didn’t make sense and the awareness of him prickled along her spine.

Langdon terrified and fascinated her in equal measure. He was an abyss—dark, cold, offering nothing but vague notions of an imagined paradise. A safe haven they would have to compete for. Who was he, exactly, to determine whether they were worthy? It made her uneasy to know that he was the deciding factor, that he could leave her here to whatever horrors awaited them outside without knowing why. What deemed a person useful to The Cooperative? Was what he’d said about this sanctuary true, or just a load of bullshit?

“Loneliness is a comfort to you, not a burden.” Langdon’s voice filled the room, smooth and rich as dark honey.

It hadn’t been a question, but of course he was well aware of the truth already. She had seen a couple of the other Purples walk away from their encounters with him shell-shocked and trembling, hysterical about how he’d rifled through the parts of them they wanted to keep hidden. Their private thoughts and shameful secrets were little more than pawns in a game to him. He appeared to relish pulling them apart and leaving them shattered. She’d never seen Coco so quiet, her eyes wide and red-rimmed before she excused herself to her room for the rest of the evening.

Truthfully, she didn’t know whether to be horrified or in awe of him.

The book snapped shut. “I’m used to it,” she said, looking up at last. He moved with a preternatural grace, hands clasped behind his back as he rounded the couch opposite in a few long strides. “Aside from the Armageddon raging outside, this is just…more of the same. More minimalist, maybe, but…I’m used to being on my own.”

She figured it would be best to strive for honesty. She just hoped that she could keep the fear out of her voice.

He seemed to draw the shadows to him, and she couldn’t tell whether there’d been the barest hint of a smirk somewhere on his lips. The light from the fireplace made the lines of his cheekbones sharper, the color of his eyes darker. But she knew they weren’t dark at all—they were the brightest, clearest shade of blue she’d ever seen. Like ice from the glaciers that no longer existed.

Langdon’s lithe form melted into the arm of the couch opposite in such a fluid motion that she couldn’t tear her gaze away. He perched on the edge, cat-like, and crossed one leg over the other. Almost instinctively, she pushed the book aside, unfurling swathes of fabric as she inched closer to the edge of the leather cushion.

“Not so impressed with the other residents, then, I take it.”

She lifted one shoulder. “A bunch of entitled assholes don’t really strike me as the best candidates to keep humanity from dying out. If they’re all that’s left…” she shook her head, “I don’t know. I don’t. Aside from whatever…visionaries you’ve got at The Cooperative, and maybe those kids, humanity’s kinda screwed.” She sighed. “It’s unfair, I guess, that we bought our survival. We didn’t really survive at all, we just had the means to escape. And these people…they don’t know how to do much for themselves. How can the world depend on them?”

“Without them, the outposts wouldn’t exist. Their money—your money—”

“My parents’ money,” she corrected.

“None of you would be here if it weren’t for their wealth.” Langdon’s head titled to the side, amused. “You don’t consider yourself one of them?”

“My parents could afford my place here, I can’t deny that,” she said. “But I…” She couldn’t look at his demanding gaze, instead averting her eyes to where his hands rested on top of his knee. Slender, well-manicured fingers drummed absently on his kneecap, the opaque rings and jewels glinting in the light. “I know a thing or two about hardship, Mr. Langdon. I remember what it was like before.”

She didn’t mean the end of the world. No, it had been long before that, and Langdon knew it—she could see it in his face, those micro expressions that were gone the moment they appeared.

He leaned forward slightly. The light changed his face in remarkable ways, she realized; where before there had been something almost imperceptibly sinister about his features, now the candlelight had softened the harsh lines of shadow.

“Of course. There was a time when your family had to worry about money. It disappeared faster than you could earn it,” he answered. She didn’t dare to ask how he knew. Then again, it wasn’t altogether unreasonable to expect that The Cooperative might’ve done ridiculously detailed background checks. “Does that make you envious of them? That they were born into wealth? That they’ve…enjoyed it longer?”

“No.”

His lips curved into a delicate smirk. “You sound so sure of yourself,” Langdon said. “Why?”

“You think I’m lying.”

“Oh, I’d know if you were, and believe me, I’d tell you,” Langdon replied, his tone light and almost teasing. “No…I want to know why. It’s a simple question.”

“It gives me an advantage,” she answered. “These people are used to their cushy lives and it made them complacent. I never knew mine long enough to get to that point. I don’t envy them for one second.”

“Ruthless.” His smirk broadened into a grin, and her stomach did a somersault in response. “I admire that.”

“Don’t know if I’d call it that,” she countered.

“I would.” He narrowed those clear blue eyes, a look so piercing that she shifted in her seat, rearranging her skirts to try and avoid it.

“It’s just surviving. Figuring out who you’re up against.”

“You see them as opponents?”

“Sometimes.” She gathered the book from where it had fallen between the cushions and stood, tucking it against her chest, very aware of his gaze following her every movement. “People don’t last long here with the way Mead and Venable run things. All we can do is try to keep up. I’ve stayed quiet…done everything I can to mitigate the risk of being a problem for them.”

“And you’d do anything to make sure you’re not abandoned. Not again.” The way he said it, drawing out every syllable, made a knot form in the pit of her stomach. How could he have known something so personal? “No matter what it might cost you. Even if the price was your soul.”

One of her eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”

Langdon tipped his head to the side again, his strawberry blond hair falling across one shoulder. “On the contrary, I think you know exactly what I mean.” He pushed off the arm of the couch to stand, lacing his fingers together in front of him.

“You have that spark of callousness within you—I can see it. It’s an ugly thing, but it’s there, because it’s a part of you. It’s always been a part of you. And you’d do whatever you need to with it, if it meant your salvation. Even if it left blood on your hands.”

The lilting, pleasant timbre of his voice suddenly turned to ice, that air of superiority and omnipotent power returning to lace his words. A storm gathered in his eyes and beneath his skin, something malicious that she’d suspected lurked in his veins, down to every fiber of his being. She didn’t know what it was about him. Part of her didn’t want to know, really, but a stubborn thread of curiosity still lingered.

She found herself gaping at him, mouth open, a coherent reply lost to the void. “I…I don’t know.”

Langdon closed his eyes, just for a moment. “Yes, you do.”

When he opened them again, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, dropping his arms to his sides. She watched the mesmerizing fluidity of his hands, the rigid way he carried himself. The same sense of amusement came crawling back as if there hadn’t ever been something terribly malicious in him in the first place. As if her trampling over the corpses of Outpost 3’s elite to garner her place at The Sanctuary was a topic of casual conversation.

Langdon continued to speak with his hands. “You can deny that part of you if that’s what you want, but it will find you eventually. Once chaos has taken over, you really can’t be sure what you’d be capable of, can you?”

“…I guess not.”

She turned away from him, the admission uncoiling something dark within her, though she didn’t want to acknowledge it. Her fingertips dug into the cover of the book until her knuckles blanched. This time, it was her footsteps that ricocheted off the walls, the staccato notes far too loud in her ears.

She felt the weight of his gaze down her back, but when she glanced over her shoulder he was already gone.

@lastregasolitaria  @mylippo  @zeciex  @lvngdvns   @langdonsdemon   @your-king-cody-fern   @sojournmichael   @gabnelson98  @rainbowrosesjas  @antichristlangdxn  @keavysmithxoxo  @artistlunadrayne @codysfallenangels  @batgirlbride  @mileeyyowens  @dead-witch-boy  @boofy1998  @gentianea  @cryptid-coalition   @langdonsrapture  @kinlovecody @yuriohoe04  @electricurie @marvel-rpdr-and-ahs @gallxntdean  @langdonscurls  @jcshadowkiss-blog @frozenhuntress67  @sebastianshoe  @dixmond-taurus  @bookobssesed99 @langdonfern @holylangdon @ritualmichael @softlangdvn @thelangdoncooperative @weareallevilmotherfuckers

[zrtranscripts]

Season 8, Mission 26: Soft Target

Drenched In Secrets

~

TOM DE LUCA: Thanks for joining me, Five. Everyone else is looking for the Edda, and there's no way the skincoats would leave it lying around for us to find. Amelia's reported the fungus on the mainland has died back completely. That doesn't help us. Everyone on Mor is still infected, and Janie's very sick. But she's considering ordering a frontal assault on the laird. It seems likely he's the skincoats' leader.

You know, Five, when Janie and I were young, after our parents died, we were sent to stay with a man named General Bakari. [laughs] I think he tried to kill you, once. He was a big believer in serving one's government. I suppose it made sense he'd side with the Ministry. He could be a, uh, sharp man. We played board games. He was better with children when there were rules. Jane didn't take to him at first. She always made a point of winning. Monopoly, Scrabble, [laughs] everything. He told us if we could excel, excelling was our duty. Pushed us to be better, stronger, faster. To be thorough, avoid mistakes.

I've made a lot of mistakes. I hurt people when I came back from Algeria. I was so very broken then, and I barely realized. [laughs] Negative operational condition. And now the dreams every night. [sighs] I've started to see things in daytime, too. Apparitions out of the corner of my eye. I just don't know if I can... trust myself.

[sighs] I recognize this beach. It's where Jones came ashore, where his hostage died in his place. I have to be in proper condition, Five. Janie's counting on me. I've got a hunch that could be key to beating the skincoats. I think many people on this island have been led astray. I think I can help, and I trust you to help me. We're meeting Shona at the far end of the beach. I need her, too. This way. Run!

~

SHONA REID: There you are, Tom. Got your message. Been waiting by this rock pool for ages. Hello, Five.

TOM DE LUCA: The caves here are impressive, aren't they, Five? They honeycomb the cliffs all along the beach. Shona, I'm sorry to drag you out here, but we need your help and we're running out of time.

SHONA REID: You know I'll do whatever I can. We're all in this mess together, aren't we? [?]. We're even sharing the same dreams.

TOM DE LUCA: It's about the skincoats. We don't know why they want the Edda, but we know the Edda's linked to king of the rocks. There's a connection between the Vikings, the ceremony, and the V-type fungus. The Edda's key to uncovering it. My instinct says the skincoats are using the island's cave network to move around undetected. They may have another source of fungus underground, too. [paper rustles] I have a compass and an island map. Five and I are going to sweep the caves for signs of hostile activity. We could use a local guide.

SHONA REID: It's a big island, you know. There's a zom or two still left underground, and some caves flood when the tide comes in.

TOM DE LUCA: We'll be careful. With your help, we can cover a good chunk of the island today. I want to start here, move east along the coast.

SHONA REID: All right. But we better be fast. We dinnae want to be caught by the tides. Come on. Run!

~

SHONA REID: Keep your torch out, Five. The way these caves wind, not much daylight gets down here.

TOM DE LUCA: Plenty of stalactites, though. Shona, I know we aren't too popular on Mor after the naming festival. What has your father been saying about us?

SHONA REID: He's in shock still. The skincoats are back, old legends walking, and a man turns into a monster right in front of his eyes. He doesn't know who's to blame.

TOM DE LUCA: He seems a formidable man. Proud. A valued leader.

SHONA REID: Aye. I've heard some call him that. You're very interested in my dad, big man. [laughs]

TOM DE LUCA: He reminds me of the general who helped raise me. A gifted leader, a fine mentor. Not always the best at judging right from wrong.

SHONA REID: Dinnae know what you're getting at there, Mr. De Luca. But we should hurry. Dad has been jumpy since the ice bridge. Me running off to Dearg made him worse. If I'm out late, he'll come looking, and be in a mood.

TOM DE LUCA: We should head east, according to my map.

SHONA REID: Down that cave, both of you. Run!

~

TOM DE LUCA: These caves are getting narrower. Did you and Jones really play down here, Shona?

SHONA REID: Aye, when we were young, before his... troubles.

TOM DE LUCA: Jones did evil things, but Morag told us he may not have been the one who murdered your uncle.

SHONA REID: Ach, that's madness! Everyone knows he did it!

TOM DE LUCA: Before the apocalypse, I worked in covert intelligence. So did my sister. Her first mission ended badly. My fault. I pressed her to join. After, I helped her cover it up. Lied so she could keep her career. I understand doing anything for family, I do. But I also know following orders isn't always right.

SHONA REID: You know, Mr. Spy, it feels like you've been steering us on a very specific route, the way you keep checking your compass.

TOM DE LUCA: Just keeping my bearings.

SHONA REID: Aye. Well, the path ahead forks two ways. One tunnel goes to the surface, and the other goes deeper. Not sure I remember which goes where. Five, you scout the left cave while we scout the right. Once I'm sure which is which, I'll know the way.

TOM DE LUCA: Sounds like a plan. Don't worry, Five, we won't be apart long. You go right, we'll head left. Down that cave, quicksmart. Run!

~

TOM DE LUCA: Five, are you receiving? The caves can limit comm range. Increasing power to my broadcast so you can track us.

SHONA REID: Keep going up the cave path, Tom. That's daylight up ahead.

TOM DE LUCA: Continue scouting in the caves, Five. Await further orders.

SHONA REID: Ach, we're out in the open. Feel that fresh air. This spot look familiar to you, Tom? Big hills, sharp cut of coast. This is near where we first met, isn't it?

TOM DE LUCA: I'm not sure. That night was very stormy.

SHONA REID: Funny how you seemed to steer us this way, and all that talk about my dad. You think he has something to do with the skincoats, don't you? Maybe even my uncle.

TOM DE LUCA: I think the skincoats have more power than we guessed on this island, and lots of people have been caught in the middle.

SHONA REID: You're a funny one, big man. Tell you what. The exact spot we met's a bit over there. There's something just past it that'll get your gears turning if you're thinking of my dad. Come on, before I change my mind.

[zombie moans]

TOM DE LUCA: That sounds like a zombie in the caves with you, Five. Use the tunnels to evade it. Run!

~

TOM DE LUCA: Sounds like you've lost the zombie, Five. Try to backtrack towards the fork where we parted. Find the tunnel Shona and I took. Shona's just lead me to the spot where we first met her.

SHONA REID: Come on, Mr. Spy. Why don't you drop the games? I see you looking at your watch. What are you sniffing after? I'm not showing you what I know until you say.

TOM DE LUCA: I've followed bad instincts before, hurt people by being wrong. And now the red fungus is clouding my mind... or clearing it. I needed proof to be sure.

SHONA REID: Proof of what, exactly?

TOM DE LUCA: You came from the wrong direction, Shona. That first night. I didn't realize then. It was dark, and I didn't know the island. But you weren't coming from the town or the laird's manor, not from a direction anyone lives in.

SHONA REID: Sure about that? Like you said, it was a stormy night.

TOM DE LUCA: Jody suggested Jones was telling the truth about the laird killing his decoy, but I keep thinking. Jones can't have seen clearly through that storm. You said something at the festival. We pop up where you don't expect. Jones never would have trusted your dad to get close, and range is tricky in a storm. But your dad knew someone Jones would trust, and you'd do anything for your dad. I think he sent you to kill Jones, and you've been living with the guilt ever since. But you don't have to hold it in anymore.

SHONA REID: [laughs] You think he sent me to kill Jones? Do I look like a killer?

TOM DE LUCA: No! I thought you'd used the caves to get away quickly, encountered us on your way home. You thought we were islanders. Helping us would have been a good alibi. Only we know roughly when Jones landed. I've been timing, seeing how long it took you to get from the beach to here. We've been too slow. At that pace, you would have missed us that night.

SHONA REID: Aye. I would have. You think I'd do all that for my dad?

TOM DE LUCA: I would. For the people I love.

SHONA REID: Well, it's nae dad, but there's someone I work for. Want to meet them, Mr. Spy? I know you do. This way. Come on.

TOM DE LUCA: [whispers] You need to get out of the caves, Five. Find the tunnel I went down. Hurry! Run!

~

TOM DE LUCA: Five, you should be in the tunnel Shona and I took by now. Keep going. Shona's lead me to the ruins of Gaisgeach Village. Lots of abandoned houses, frames overgrown with grass.

SHONA REID: Come on, big man, it's just over here.

TOM DE LUCA: Five, we're in some kind of den in one of the ruined houses. Shona's moving some stones by a wall... My God! Th-there's a book behind them... it's the Edda!

SHONA REID: Not going to celebrate? You've been looking a long time.

TOM DE LUCA: Five, there's a wooden pot by the panes. Red fungus growing out of it, silver dust around.

SHONA REID: I couldnae leave it at home with you lot poking around, could I? Go on. Say a proper hello to my boss.

TOM DE LUCA: You mean... the fungus?

SHONA REID: More a pal than a boss, really. I help it. It helps me.

TOM DE LUCA: Shona, listen. I'm armed. I'm trained. I don't want to hurt you, but I need the Edda and I need to destroy that fungus. If your father is making you do this, we can help you, we can -

SHONA REID: [laughs] Have you not been paying attention? It's never been my dad.

TOM DE LUCA: All right. That's it. Five will be here soon. I'm faster and stronger than you. You're coming with me. You're going to tell us everything!

SHONA REID: You know, the red god's a wonder when it's treated right. You've met its servants, the skincoats. They're strong and fast. I take a little every day, Tom. A pinch of red and silver. Been needing a top-up. I'd take my hand off that gun if I was you. The red god makes me very fast.

TOM DE LUCA: Five, Five, get up here now! [gunshots] Five! My God, she's fast. [TOM DE LUCA and SHONA REID struggle] She's strong! Five, code red! Warn the others! Tell Janie - !

[gunshot, cloth rustles]

SHONA REID: Sorry, big man. Turns out you weren't fast enough. I know you hear me, Five. I picked the headset off your dead friend. Ignore his last request. You won't be warning anyone. This is my island, Five. Mine. You're nae alone in that cave. I have a surprise or two for you down there, and you're never, ever getting out alive.

~

[angel-scythe]

Sheet of Ice : chapter 5

Hi people!!!

Here is my 5th chapter of HankGav <3

Hope you’ll have fun!

You knw what to do!!

|  °|

Chapter 05: I need help

 Sat on his sofa, Gavin wasn’t really watching the TV. It was a pretty shitty emission and he would certainly not look that if Elijah wasn’t totally fan of one of the actor. Phone against his ear, he listened the man commented what they were watching. Sometime, he’ll do it too but less often. He just wanted to hear a voice he liked as he couldn’t sleep at all. While the man was talking, he looked cases on his phone and discovered sometime clue or even who was the criminal… whatever the crime was.

He scratched his arm. Maybe he really was workaholic and maybe he really needed to stop but… he didn’t have much in his life, soo…

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah. Robin should really stop to get Martine, he won’t get anything from her. She’s a slut.”

It was a SOAP opera about robot. Mostly. And Elijah liked it very much even if the robots were really like Humans. They couldn’t have sex but they tried to find the perfect mate. Robin chased after Martine because she promised love to him but she was in fact in love with a Human. A strong Alpha so, as she couldn’t become an Omega, she was really sad and had already try to kidnap a baby to please him. This time, Gavin really hoped Martine will die but nop. The audience liked her so she came back with a new arm really shiny and that was all.

A ring made Gavin moaning.

Just a bit.

���Something wrong? Is it because Celyn has thrown Po away. Again?”

“She pisses me off too. God. The guy said he was the one who killed Humans for her and since he’s in jail, she won’t wait for him? She’ll be the perfect partner for Martine!”

“Yeah… I ship it too!”

“By the way, I’ve another call. Watch, you’ll tell me what happened after.” Gavin didn’t wait to pick up the phone.

Just on time. In fact, he cut the conversation there because if he wouldn’t have, his cousin would keep him for hours!

“Yeah?” he said.

“It’s me, Connor. I’m at Lieutenant Anderson’s house and…”

“What, plastic pet?”

“I think, he needs you,” he said in a tiny voice. “He had a bad dream, I think, and he wants beer. He’s mad…”

“Why do you call me, you prick?”

“Because you love him, isn’t it, Detective Reed? And he loves you. Having you there will prevent him to fall in alcohol again. He just needs you,” Connor pleaded, really uneasy.

“Oh, yeah?” Gavin frowned and squeezed the phone. “I’m coming… Keep him at home.”

“Thank you, Detective Reed.”

Gavin hung up and he looked toward the TV before taking back his cousin.

“Eli’?”

“Yes?”

“I need to go. We talk later, okay?”

“Yes. Take care”

“Take care.”

Gavin hung up again and though he should said “I love you” to him too. But now, he didn’t have time…

  Hank was mad. Really mad. Even Sumo was barking, trying to stop his Master who wanted to go outside. He needed to go in the bar or even in a stupid supermarket where he could buy thousand and thousand beer. And then, he’ll drink them. Every beer he could drink.  Connor was in front of the door and Hank pushed him fiercely.

“Get the fuck out of there, you fuckin’ Android!”

Connor closed his eyes but tried to force him to rise against the man. It was for him.

“It’s enough, Lieutenant!”

“Fuck you!”

Hank pushed him again but instead of trying to get out, he turned around and went to his window. He opened it and Sumo jumped toward him and bite his trousers, tugged on it.

“Leave, you stupid d…”

“Lieutenant, no!” Connor shouted.

He ran toward him and took his arm, pulled him away from the window. Hank was ready to hit them both. The Android could support that but he couldn’t stand the dog to be harmed.

He heard the bell rang but Hank was ready to kick Sumo. Connor passed his feet around his ankle to push him on the floor. Sumo barked and retreated a bit, tail between his legs.

“Please, Lieutenant. Try to stay calm.”

“Fuck you!”

Hank punched wildly Connor. His nose cracked and some blue liquid slide from his nostril. However, the Android fought against the fear and took him to keep him in the floor. Since the man was shaking, it was easier and harder to keep him in the right place and stop him to do something he’ll regret.

A new and long sound came from the entry.

“It’s the first hours that are the most difficult but you can do it, Lieutenant! Think at the joy you’ll feel.”

“You don’t get it! I’m a monster. I fucked everything and I had nothing!”

“It wasn’t your fault, Lieutenant!”

“It was when I broke up with Gavin!”

The bell rang again, longer.

“You couldn’t know since he said nothing to you. Don’t throw everything away! You wanted to change. Why?”

“For him! And he doesn’t want me anymore! Just the sex to bear his heat because he’s mine!”

“Yeah, not really. I supported that while three years, don’t need to be fucked.”

Hank rose his head to see Gavin in the entry. He closed the door and smiled while folding his arms.

“Guys, when someone rang, come to open. It’s manners.”

“Wha… What are you doing there?” Hank asked, agape.

“Plastic prick called me. I don’t know if I’m impressed or pissed off, you still but the ‘hidden’ key in the same place.”

“You… You’re really there? Wh… Why?”

The old man couldn’t get it when he looked that guy he loved so much. He was in a worn trousers with hole here and there, one knee exposed to eye, threadbare in many place and he had a long dark sweatshirt with a why ‘Ok. But first, coffee.’

“Thank you for coming, Detective. You can… do something?” Connor asked, feeling a little stupid.

“Of course, I can. Don’t interfere with Humans, plastic prick.”

As he walked, Gavin brought his hand behind his neck and he pressed the button to free his flesh.

“Gavin…”

Hank wanted to say he didn’t need to do that but the true was that his apparition shocked him but now, he felt again the drug-seeking. If he didn’t take alcohol soon, that’ll rotten him and he could never erase the images torturing him…

He watched Gavin kneels beside him and bent his head. Hank moved and bit him fiercely. Immediately, blood slide along his skin and sweet perfume come out from him. It acted on the Lieutenant like a new drug and erased the old one. With that smell, and the feeling irradiating him, he didn’t need anything. Just to bit.

Connor felt awkward to assist at that. Especially when he saw Gavin’s expression. The way he closed his eyes, clenched his teeth. First, he wanted to hide his eyes but then, he let out:

“I’ll make coffee, okay?” Then, he rose up and went to the kitchen.

Gavin didn’t reply and waited. Hank needed to fill his underwent. It wasn’t the only way to calm Hank but it was the quicker.

Few days ago, Gavin needed to feel the bit because it was only love and bonding but now… Hank loved him, he knew it but that made him sick to be like that. At his mercy… Waiting to be free. At least his lover was too excited by the act and want something more… Why was he born like that? Why he couldn’t just leave and let Hank drown in his problem instead of humiliating himself?!

He felt a hand on his hair and closed his eyes even more it was possible. The pain stopped as he received soft caress on his head.

“I’m sorry,” a tender voice said on his ear.

“It’s okay…”

“You know like me, it’s not.” Hank caressed his cheek. You’re not my Omega, you’re my mate. My true love.”

Gavin didn’t reply at first then opened his mouth. “Do you feel better?”

“A bit…”

“I’ll stay tonight.” Gavin got up and rubbed his neck. When he looked his hand, it was full of blood.

Hank got up too and took him in his arms. Gavin closed his eyes when he started to feel the kiss on the mark.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know. I choose to come.” He gave a little smile to Hank. “What do you want? Go to bed? Playing at something?”

Hank caressed his neck, with love and softness, and little red droplets came on his fingers…

“Being with you?”

“Cute.” Gavin smiled a bit, didn’t want to truly hurt the man.

Not anymore.

Hank bent and licked the irony liquid, cleaning him with tenderness. Gavin closed his eyes and let him do. It was soft and he shivered a little under the attention. He felt the tongue against his ear with love. A love he carved so much for…

“I had nightmare… I see him die on it. I see you hurt on it. Very hurt… I don’t want to dream again.”

“You can’t fight against your dreams.”

“Look your darks circles,” Hank replied.

“Yeah. Workaholic, you know. Go sleep.”

“I can’t. Not now. My head is… so fucking fuzzy. I need… I know everything will disappear if I take one glass. Just one!”

“You’re right. Everything will disappear, Hank,” Gavin said softly, caressing his face.

“I know you’ll understand,” the man sighed, feeling reassuring.

“You don’t get it, Hank. Everything will disappear. So I am.”

Hank clenched his teeth.

“If you don’t want to sober, okay. But…”

“It’s the only thing you ask?” Hank muttered.

“I don’t phcking care, ya know? It’s better for you. Don’t want to feel good? To live longer?”

“For what?”

“Take a guess?”

Gavin paced backward and came toward Sumo to pet him with a tiny smile on his lips.

“Detective Reed?”

“Yeah, tin can?”

“I made coffee for you. Do I throw it immediately in the trash or…”

“You…” Gavin smiled and reached to receive the coffee. He drank on the mug then walked toward the door.

“It’s not I don’t want to stop. If not it’s killing me, little by little and for long, it was what I wanted. I couldn’t kill myself because I was afraid? I tried to stay hang to something? I lost everything and whatever I’ll do, you were still there, in my live. I hated you and I loved you. It was awful. And…I don’t know what it was for you…I wanted to kill me and I was to coward to do it.”

“Don’t say that. Killing yourself is not an act of power. Killing is never it. You’re a damn cop, you should know it!”

“But sometimes, you must do it. And I wanted so much to be with Cole again. I didn’t have anything here. You don’t…”

“NO!” Gavin turned toward him. “No! Because I thought about you every fucking time! My live was over for absolutely no reason and I was a mess. A phcking mess! I even don’t know how Eli’ could bear me at this time! I’m not sure he can now! I thought about you, how you’ll feel because… yeah, I was stupid enough to believe you still loved me! And there was Eli’ too. I couldn’t let him down.”

“I always loved you, Gavin. I swear to god. But I thought you’ll pass over me. That you’ll…”

“Plunge in work,” Gavin completed, bitter.

“Yeah…”

The Detective let out a cold chuckle then drank on his mug.

Connor was sat on the floor, caressing Sumo to calm him and he looked the two arguing, without knowing what he needed to do.

Gavin sighed and walked toward Hank.

“I asked you to stop drinking but if you have so much fun with your booze, go on. I don’t care. It’s for you, because I care for you but…” He shook his head. “I don’t care, Hank.”

“But… will you vanish?” he asked.

The other man looked him.

“Do you really mind what I can think?”

“Of course.”

Gavin shrugged.

“It’s your life, Hank.”

“And I want… need you on it. I really need you to be a part of my life. I lost you for way too much time. I did everything to forget you but I just couldn’t. I love you so much I can’t bear it. Look… You’re here and I forget the alcohol.”

“Thank you.” He rose his mug. “Won’t forget the coffee.” He closed his eyes. “But…I’m glad if I can help ya. And if you really wanna stop, I’m there. I swear.”

Hank looked him.

“I need help.”

Gavin nodded. He looked toward Connor who lowered his head, faking to don’t have listened and watched for minutes.

“Okay. Time to go to bed everyone,” Gavin said.

“Woof!”

“Okay. Someone needs to go in the bathroom?” asked Connor.

“Phcking Androids, need to? God, I need to hit Eli’”

“Well, I can’t pee but I can take a bath or a shower. But I…” Connor shut his mouth as he saw Hank making move to him.

“But youuu?” Gavin said before drinking.

“I…”

“Hank, stop disturbing the tin can. Tin can, reply. Or you only follow Lieutenant Anderson order?” He moved toward Connor, smile on his lips.

Strange smile.

“The bathroom is his room.”

Gavin frowned and turned the head toward Hank.

“What the phck? You let the kid sleep in the bathroom? Or not sleep, I don’t care, tin can.”

“I asked for it.”

“He asked for it,” Hank said.

“Let him sleep in the sofa!” Gavin shouted.

“Yes, but I sleep in the sofa.”

Gavin passed his hand on his hair with a sigh. He put down his mug, grabbed Connor and leaded him to Hank’s room.

“I’m not sure it’s a good thing,” muttered Connor.

“Shut up. Why did you even ask for sleep in a phcking bathroom?” He wanted to push open the door but a hand went around the knob and kept it close.

“I prefer you don’t,” Hank voice said near his ear.

“That’s why,” Connor said under his breath.

Hank never asked him to don’t go on this room but he knew he shouldn’t since the man kept too much things that used to be at Gavin and he cherished the smell. Plus, the man still could be harsh when it came to what belonged to him so it’s very own and intimate territory? He already could be glad to have the right to come on it to grab clothes.

“Okay. Neither you let him sleep in our room or use the sofa but the kid needs somewhere to stay for the night.”

“He won’t sleep in my room.”

Gavin looked him right in the eyes and he felt a hand in his throat.

“It’s okay, Lieutenant. I’ll use the bathroom, don’t worry,” Connor said quickly, head a little bend.

“Squeeze?” Gavin said.

Hank looked him in the eyes too as his fingers tightened.

“Lieutenant!”

The man ignored the Android and rose his second hand to push Gavin’s face and he moved the first one then… bit hard on his neck. The Detective groaned his pain and clenched his teeth and his fist around Connor who didn’t know what to do then.

Hank didn’t said a think and Gavin too. He could sense a silence fight. Hank’s fangs weren’t there to calm him with a sweet smell, with a feel of mutual love; they weren’t there to show him all his love. They were here until to say the only word he won’t say loud.

Yield.

Gavin perfectly knew he was an Omega but he hated this status and fought against it all the time. Hank perfectly knew this so that’s why he never dared to force him to yield. Or, to be exact, it was really rare. It should be a reason enough to yield without waiting but Gavin couldn’t. He closed his eyes and moved his other hand to push off the man but this one pinned his wrist to the wall. He pressed against him and bit harder, blood flooding.

“Detective Reed…” Connor said, uneasy.

Should he intervene? It wasn’t in his code but now, he didn’t care about his code, isn’t it? But he always listened to Hank and didn’t want to hurt him. If he cut off the authority the man had, he certainly would.

Yield.

Hank bit more.

It seemed he would never stop and even Sumo went under the sofa to hide. The Alpha scent must be very strong. He could feel the aura.

“Please,” Connor muttered. “Gavin…”

He squeezed his hand even if he didn’t know if that could help. Or… will he worse everything?

However, he felt the fingers joined his and then Gavin lowered his head, pressing his forehead against Hank, pushing his pelvis against the Lieutenant’s one. The man’s hand went in his hair and caressed softly. Slowly, the bit stopped and tongue replace with lips to ask forgiveness with softness and love. Gavin didn’t move however. He just let the kiss came on his wounded flesh and the caress passed and passed.

The man let go and rose Gavin’s chin softly to kiss him. The Detective didn’t resist and replied to the kiss.

“Are you okay?” Hank asked.

Gavin didn’t look him.

“Yeah.”

Hank rose his chin and watch him on the eyes.

“I’m fine,” the Detective said. “I’m yours… That never changed.”

“If you’re coming back here, I guess Connor can have the living room.”

“Never said I’m coming back.”

Hank looked disappointed and Gavin kissed him softly, caressing his cheek since he let go on his wrist. Reed looked toward the end of the corridor then squeezed Connor’s hand.

“Come,” he said.

Hank retreated a bit but watched Gavin. However, the man didn’t lead the Android to his room. In fact, it was quite worst.

“Gavin…”

“What? The kid needs a place to stay.” He walked toward the door and turned the knob. “You’ll be good in there,” he said before rising his hand to caress his hair.

Connor was dumbfounded but let him do.

[yukiwrites]

Falling for Each Other

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @breeachuu! I apologize again for the wait, and I hope you enjoy this extended version!

Summary: Cressida chose to follow Kamui even as the princess refused to join a side. She fought valiantly, but when it was time to leave this world to fight on the next, she found someone whose mind wanted to fight, but whose body refused to move. Odin and Cressida slowly but surely get closer to each other as the day pass.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Ever since Cressida's mercenary platoon had been defeated by Kamui's unusual army, she had chosen to follow the erratic princess. Her newest fellow soldiers hailed from all corners of the land -- hoshidans, nohrians, people from the ice, wind and fire tribes as well as random villagers from decimated towns.

The bow knight had never seen anything quite like it, not to mention how WELL everyone got along. It seemed as though the decades-long war between Hoshido and Nohr was a thing from the far past. She saw nohrians cooking for hoshidans, and ice tribe people happily conversing with wind tribe people; It truly felt like the war had ended inside that small and yet strong army.

It filled Cressida's heart with something akin to a goal; to actually have something she wanted to fight for instead of wanting to strive to impress this or that supperior official. Despite not really knowing what they were up against, that is.

Kamui explained to every new recruit that they were dealing with an enemy that concealed itself in the shadows for so long he'd been manipulating the discord inside their continent. The princess couldn't explain much due to a curse, but once they reached their goal -- the bottomless canyon -- all would be revealed, including that mysterious enemy's name.

It was strange, really, wanting to fight for something she barely knew of, but somehow felt in her heart. Cressida felt hopeful for a change and faithfully followed Kamui's orders through thick and thin, all the way to the fateful bottomless canyon.

The battle which transpired there truly felt as though it would be their last -- ambushed by the nohrian forces and with only a bit of support from the hoshidan family, the entire army felt the dread of defeat breathing down their necks.

"THROUGH THE DARK MIST THE HEROES ARRIVE!!" A loud voice amplified by wind magic could be heard louder than the fighting inferno they were trapped in. Cressida dared to look over her shoulder to their rear, seeing a purple miasma covering the battlefield. "WORRY NOT, FOR THE FIENDS SHALL PERISH BY OUR BLADES!"

"Uh, you're a mage, Odin."

"... BY OUR ETHEREAL BLADES!! There, happy now, Niles?!" The voice exasperated, and something told Cressida that the caster forgot that he was amplifying everyone's voice alongside his own.

The moment the miasma wore off, the silhouettes of Crown Prince Xander and his retainers, followed by Prince Leo and his retainers, Odin and Niles could be seen.

Ah, so that's where she knew that voice from. Cressida slowly turned her head forward, focusing on shooting enemies from over her horse. Back from the days she served in Nohr, she had heard rumors about a flamboyant retainer with a knack for grandeur.

Cressida had made sure to never cross paths with him. He was the exact kind of person that tired her the most, so the less she interacted with him, the better.

Along with the princes came their soldiers, who easily washed over Hans and Iago's forces, turning the tide so quickly Cressida could barely believe the battle was over before sunset.

"Even though you arrived a bit earlier than expected, I was starting to feel chills down my back for a moment there!" Kamui walked over to Xander with a smile, making Cressida wonder how long they've been in contact.

"I would never let anything happen to you, Little Princess." Xander extended his hand so she would mount his horse. They exchanged smiles as she went up to it.

"Men! Make haste to raise camp! We'll leave first thing tomorrow, but I have something to tell you at the mess hall, so let's hurry!" Kamui's voice was amplified by Leo's wind magic, reaching even the soldiers stationed at the rear, such as Cressida.

"You heard her, men!" Cressida bobbed her head to her platoon. "Let's go!"

Since they would be leaving the next morning, most of the camp's supplies and mounts remained inside the Astral Realm, the soldiers taking only the essential for one night's rest.

At the 'mess hall', an open space with an abundance of logs to be used as seats, Kamui stood at the peak of the slight slope they were at to start her speech.

Munching on her food, Cressida sat on the grass not far from where Kamui stood, only realizing she was very close to the royal retainers once they started sitting down beside her.

Well, as long as they kept their mouths shut, she wouldn't pay them any mind. Focusing on the princess, the bow knight listened well.

"As I've been telling everyone from the start, the first part of our journey will end here, tomorrow. The cursed being I've told you about lies literally under our feet," she looked down, making many a soldier follow, wondering if they were going to fight a cursed worm or mole, "at the bottom of the canyon."

Some men let out nervous laughs, wondering if they had heard it wrong. Cressida widened her eyes.

"I know it's a lot to ask you all, and I won't hold it against you if you choose not to follow me, but first thing in the morning, I'll jump down the canyon's bridge to fight our real enemy. Of course, I'll go first to set an example, but hopefully I'll see many of you follow me to the other side."

Cressida didn't realize she had stopped munching, the food itching inside her mouth. Beside her, she saw how each retainer reacted: Niles whistled as Beruka simply closed her eyes in compliance. Selena and Laslow were oddly calm about it all, which contrasted with how increasingly pale Odin had become.

Yeah, well, she could relate a bit. Jumping off of a bridge so as to end up 'on the other side'? Seemed like a fairy tale to her, but she could see that Kamui was nothing but serious, as well as all of her siblings beside her.

Odin, however, was sweating so much Cressida wondered if a pool would form under him after he got up. She finally remembered to munch on her food, resigned on believing her Commander until the end of her days, even if that meant only living through this one night.

Not realizing she had been staring at Odin, feeling a bit bad for seeing someone so shaken about the news, Cressida quickly shook her head and focused on the rest of Kamui's speech.

Since most of the people the princess had recruited followed her because they believed in her convictions and that peace was possible (it was happening all around already!), they all resigned themselves to follow Kamui, much like Cressida.

Of course, that didn't mean there was less anxiety and preoccupation floating around, but no one went back on their decision of fighting for Kamui.

Intent on making the most of her last night in that world, quite literally in any way possible, Cressida volunteered to patrol the borders of the camp after they all cleaned up the mess hall. She circled part of the battlefield they had used and walked all the way to the other extreme, close to the bridge.

The winds were blowing strongly as usual, and the closer she got to the bridge, the stronger the thundering became, making it a scene out of a horror book.

"It wasn't me... it wasn't me, get a grip! In my world, I passed it. I passed the bridge." A low voice chanting ominous words slowly made its way to Cressida, making her widen her eyes and clutch her chest.

"Hey, I know I just thought of horror books, but this isn't funny." She whispered to herself, as though she could speak to whatever ethereal being was playing a prank on her.

Wary, she started walking with more caution, looking to the trees that blocked her way to the bridge, her heart beating furiously inside her heart.

"My memories aren't jumbled. I'm still me. Besides, that Owain didn't actually fall off the bridge, like... I'll... need to do tomorrow..." The voice got clearer as Cressida approached, and she realized she actually recognized it. She had heard it blaring over the battlefield not five hours ago. "RRRAGH!!"

Cressida jumped on her skin, finally seeing Odin trembling by the one of the wooden anchors, slapping his face with both hands as a way to concentrate. "BY THE BLOOD OF THE CHOSEN ONES INSIDE MY VEINS, I'LL JUMP THIS!! RIGHT NOW!" He bended his body as though getting ready to run to the bridge.

"Uh, we're all gonna jump tomorrow, though." Cressida's mouth spoke before she could close it, her hand reached out to him from afar.

"BY THE BEARD OF HECTOR!!" Startled, Odin jumped so far up in the air he lost his balance by the canyon. Cressida threw away the torch she was holding and ran, catching his hand before he fell.

"That was dangerous! Are you okay?" She pulled him to her, turning him away from the canyon, her back facing it.

Odin placed one hand over his chest, the other one by his knee as he caught his breath. "Hoooh, I thought I was gonna die. Thanks."

"Don't mention it. But don't go on jumping before everyone else, alright? Lady Kamui's gonna explain everything tomorrow, after all.

The retainer shot his head up in exasperation. "W-wait, how much did you hear?!"

Taken aback by the sudden change of topic, Cressida raised her eyebrow, walking back to the torch lest it started a fire. "Uh, something about an Owain; what's an Owain?" She tilted her head to the side as she took the torch, "anyway, I didn't mean to eavesdrop as you... spoke to yourself like that. It won't happen again." Better not tell him I actually thought he was an apparition or something. Yeah, let's not.

"W-wait," Odin touched her shoulder, his hand so cold she could feel it even through the fabric of her clothes. "Cressida, isn't it? Don't tell anyone about tha-"

"Sure, alright." She bobbed her head to the path she took, inviting him to go back with her. As loud as he was, she didn't want to witness any suicide that night. She would walk him back to his tent. "I shouldn't have pried in first place. But don't jump alone, okay? Let's go, it's getting cold here."

Odin pressed his lips into a thin line, looking over his shoulder to the canyon, then hurrying to keep on Cressida's pace. "Alright. My humble thanks once again, brave warrior..." He said in a defeated tone, and Cressida could see that even his usual... flamboyance would take some time to recover.

They walked back in silence, something she had heard that was very unusual for the retainer. She enjoyed silence as much as the next person, but for some reason, with Odin, it made her feel uncomfortable. He was so shaken and somewhat fragile back then, it was as though he could break at any moment.

The retainer's tent was behind a blockade, since only the royals and their retainers could enter, Cressida walked him back only until then. "Oh, my humble thanks for walking me, brave warrior." Odin bowed, making the guards beside them glance at each other in surprise. "See you tomorrow."

Cressida simply wriggled her fingers as a goodbye. "Yeah."

Even his back seemed exhausted, but there wasn't much Cressida could do -- or rather, she had done the most she could, already. Hopefully he would REMAIN in his tent instead of trying to jump again.

The guards whispered 'was that really Odin', or 'maybe he was finally cursed', making Cressida's heart twinge. The man was REALLY afraid of heights, wasn't he? She wondered if she could help more once morning came. Maybe pat his back and jump beside him?

Her thoughts were filled with possibilities as she retired to her own tent, somewhat forgetting that she, too, would have to jump.

Dawn broke not too long after Cressida finally managed to sleep, but by then she was already up, helping her fellow soldiers as well as subordinates to put all supplies away inside the Astral Realm.

Once again Kamui spoke with the help of Leo's wind magic. "As I told you all yesterday, I will jump in first to ensure you that it is safe -- I myself did this not even a year ago, alongside Azura, Jakob and Gunter."

The three of them nodded solemnly beside her, the butler taking a step forward to bow. Kamui pressed on. "Azura will be the last one to jump so as to guide all of you." She turned to the bridge, placing one foot over the protective rope. "Well then, see you all on the other side!"

Having said that, she jumped. Most foot soldiers gasped in surprise, however, right after her, Xander followed. Then, so did the two royal families, alongside their retainers. Minus Odin, Laslow and Selena, who stood in the line close to their subordinates.

Felicia, Jakob, Gunter and Azura took positions on differents spots of the line, always ensuring the soldiers that everything would be fine and that soon they would meet again, on the other side.

Cressida's side of the line walked quickly as she stayed behind her men so as to ensure that all of them had jumped. Coincidentally, or because Odin's side of the line walked slower than hers, she ended up beside him during the time for them to jump.

"Are you alright? You're even paler today than yesterday." She said in a low voice as they walked through the squeaky wood.

Odin's leg shook, but he took many deep breaths. "By the blood of the heroes of yore, this Odin Dark will jump!" He said without moving a muscle, already at the spot Kamui had jumped from minutes ago.

Embarrassed by what she was about to say, Cressida looked away as she extended her hand to him. "Do you want to hold my hand? I confess I'm a bit nervous myself."

Odin's shoulders sagged. "You mock me, my lady? I am not a child in need of comfort." He snorted, still taking her hand, his as cold as it was the night before.

"Hah," she sneered, "yeah, alright. Ready or not, let's go!" She passed through the rope, waiting for him to do the same and simply jumped, unsure if she should close her eyes or keep them open.

Regardless of her choice, only the darkness stared back at her as she fell, her lungs unable to let out the scream stuck in her throat. Odin gripped at her hand as strongly as she did his, that being the last thing she remembered before darkness took ahold of her consciousness.

Odin saw the moment his mother Lissa hugged the stranded Owain; he remembered his tears and wail of desperation. He remembered her warm touch and comforting pats that resembled slaps more than anything. "M-mother, so you were alive..." he mumbled, tears itching on his face.

He saw Brady's and Yarne's backs as they ran after the bridge collapsed; he saw Inigo's resolve of dying alongside him... At the same time as he saw all of his friends running together, beside him.

Which one was the truth? Which one had been his own experience? Did he make it across the bridge? Did he deliver Sable and Argent to Lucina?

'How poor a warrior must I be that I receive help from other worlds?' he heard his voice say, though the words didn't leave his throat. 'Poor?' A deep, deep and familiar voice said in the distance. 'Certainly not. It is clear to me that you are more than capable, Owain.'

"Father?"

'But not even the strongest of warriors can hold off an entire army alone. Come. Allow your father to be your shield for what little time he can.'

A warmth in Odin's hand made him start to feel his body, the memories from a future past fading away. "Father!" He sat up quickly. "No need to protect me, Father. It's my fight." He mumbled incoherently, his eyes unfocused.

"Wha-?!" Startled, Cressida also woke up beside Odin, blinking with the sudden brightness. "What the hell? Where ARE we?" She looked around the strange world.

Floating islands, upside-down lakes, moving bridges... Was she still dreaming? Or rather, when did the dream start?

"Oh, yeah," Odin looked around, feeling rather settled because of his Father's words, "it's been so many years I forgot how it- uh, you didn't hear that."

"You've been  here before? Then why were you so scared to jump?" Cressida still couldn't feel her legs, so they simply sat there by the grass, not realizing they hadn't let go of each other's hands.

Odin looked away from her, "uh, pleasekeepthisasecrettoo."

"You are going to tell me what's going on, though." She pointed. "I need explanations; what KINDA world did we end up in anyway? And where are the others?"

"We're in the mystic world of Valla-" He said, regretting it right after. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut when he was with that woman?! "Uh, over there! I see Lady Kamui!" He pointed to the horizon, and for a second, Cressida couldn't see anything.

"Oh! Odin and Cressida!" Kamui waved from afar as the retainer helped the bow knight get up, finally letting go of her hand.

They missed the warmth right away, the contour of each other's fingers over their own hands lingering for a few minutes even after they had regrouped with everyone else.

Cressida narrowed her eyes to Odin and mouthed a "Get ready to tell me what's going on," before they went their ways, making the mage gulp and scratch the back of his neck.

"Laslow and Selena won't like this a single bit..." He whispered to himself, then remembered the talk he had had with Laslow not too long ago. "Oh, well, they can't be mad about a thing they don't know of, right? Hah, as expected as the dweller of darkness."

According to Azura, who had appeared a few minutes after all the other soldiers were accounted for, time flew differently in Valla than it did back where they all came from, so it was normal that people who jumped first ended up appearing later and vice-versa.

Kamui could finally explain the identity of their true enemy, though the soldiers were still flabbergasted at the strange world around them. She told them about the curse and the Dragon's hold on King Garon as well as the way to defeat it -- to strike him with her Yato.

"I've only been here once, not even one year ago; but that was enough to show me that this world and its dwellers, whether living or dead, need their rest. This world needs its rest. And if it doesn't, this chaos will bleed to our worlds above, so we must stop all this while we have the chance!"

Cressida crossed her arms, her eyes doing a beeline in search of Odin. She had heard him say that it had been 'many years' since he visited that world. Was he aware of everything even before Kamui was? Of course, Cressida wouldn't pry on the reason for his fear of heights, but she felt as though she deserved an explanation. What was his true goal?

Odin was a ways behind Kamui, beside his Lord and his fellow retainer, a serious yet silly smile plastered across his face. Cressida snorted. Hah, look at him now. Doesn't even look like all of that happened, she thought, her cheeks flushing with the memory of their extended hand-holding.

Shaking her head, she waited until nightfall to look for Odin, knowing that the subject should be approached with caution. She found him at the edge of camp, staring up at the gigantic moon that shone its silver light as far as the eye could see. It glimmered so, it barely felt like night.

"I have been waiting for you, O one who was bestowed the Secret Knowledge." Odin said even before Cressida announced herself. She snorted, then put one hand over her waist.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Actually, I did this to two other peopl- Uh, of course it was with the help of my Third Eye!" He turned around with a big smile.

You know, being beside him wasn't even as bad as Cressida thought it would be. His manner of speech was rather entertaining to listen to.

She crossed her arms beside him, also looking up at the moon. "I'm not gonna pry on your private affairs, but you must agree with me that it's very strange that you've been here once before Lady Kamui, isn't it? If you knew everything..."

"Okay, back up. It's true that I knew everything, more than Lady Kamui actually does to be honest," he mumbled the last part, making Cressida unable to identify what he said, "but you sound like you think I'm a traitorous dark hero! Fear not, fair maiden, that nothing but sincerity and good intentions lie inside this darkened heart of mine!"

Cressida smirked. "Alllright, then you wouldn't mind telling me what's this is all about? I AM a good secret keeper, aren't I?"

Odin froze. Why did I open my big mouth, he cursed himself mentally. "I cannot say the entire truth, for it is too much for your mortal ears to hear," he gave her an extravagant bow, inviting her to sit on the grass, "however I shall bestow upon you part of the dark knowledge that's been lit inside this very heart."

Saying nothing, Cressida simply stared at him as she sat down, making him feel cold sweat itch his temple.

"Er, you won't say anything?" He stuttered, sitting beside her.

"Nnno? I'm waiting for you to start." She never lost her smirk, enjoying how much he sought attention and acknowledgment of his antics.

Odin loudly cleared his throat. "Once upon a time, three brave warriors from a war-ridden world received a divine calling!! Woosh! A bright light enveloped them, transporting them to place they've never seen before! A place with invisible yet strong fallen warriors; a place with a resplendural beauty yet filled with sadness from its abandon."

Cressida nodded as he gestured, getting way into the story. The three warriors would be him, Laslow and Selena? Cressida had heard that they were friends from even before being retainers. The war-ridden world must've been either Nohr or Hoshido, then? The new place would, of course, be Valla.

Hah, translating his stories was actually fun.

"The celestial being that had brought them there! It BESEECHED with its god-like powers... it begged, bowing before the prowess of the three heroes; it begged them to save that world. That they protected its child from the chaos until they could return with their full power! And destroy the ultimate evil that's devoured the land from the millennia!"

Cressida tilted her head in confusion. A child?

Nevertheless, Odin continued, getting more and more carried away. He looked at the moon, kneeling so as to get up. "Their hearts wrung with worry, the brave heroes, the purest of lifeforms, agreed to help the celestial being, their powers vanquishing each and any invisible enemy thrown at them! VRAAH! BWOOM!" He gestured as though he cut something with a sword, the battle sounds getting louder and louder. By then, Cressida had both hands over her mouth so as to muffle her laugh. "They toppled over the enemies as though they were paper! But then- the unthinkable happened!" Odin turned around to his audience of one, dramatically holding his breath. "The Dragon they were there to destroy discovered their ploy and sent rivers of reinforcements! Of course, nothing could stop the three heroes, but they had to keep their promise and protect the celestial being's child! INSOFORTH! THEY HAD TO ABANDON THE CELESTIAAAAL BEING!" He knelt as though he had been hit by an arrow, panting. "Tearfully they were expelled from the upside-down world to yet another unfamiliar place for them! They grieved and grieved, not being able to open the portal back! What had happened to the celestial being? Were they ever going to see it again?! Tune in for the next time!" He winked, snapping his fingers to Cressida after lifting his head, still kneeling in front of her.

The bow knight stared at him for three full seconds, wondering if he was waiting for an applause. "Uh, there's more?" She clapped her hands silently, making his face light up like a puppy's.

"Of course! A tale of reckoning, of adapting to a new world and politics... the backstabbing of yet another war and the whispers of the unknown! This tale is far from over!"

"Then you three are from Hoshido? You don't look the least hoshidan to me." She placed one hand by her chin as he sat.

"Geh-" he coughed, not realizing he had actually said that they were from another place different from Nohr.

Cressida lifted her chin. "... You're not from Hoshido?"

The mage lowered his head, once again cursing his big mouth. He wondered how much he could tell her, or if he should at all. He kept that secret alongside his friends for over five years, never knowing if they would actually come back to Valla so they could free Anankos from his pain.

For years they grieved the loss of a good man lost to madness, always hoping that they could come back. He looked up at Cressida, whose sincere eyes held their gaze upon him. Her indigo and golden hair shone brilliantly with the moonlight, reminding Odin of the previous night and how she had stood beside him without expecting anything in return.

From what he had heard, she was an accomplished and principled woman, even back at their days in Nohr. She didn't look like someone who would go around telling their secrets -- what's more, she never once touched on the subject of his fear of suspension bridges. She had respected it.

Furthermore, he... felt like he could tell her. He remembered how tightly she held his hand when he was most vulnerable.

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to tell her.

"I... I'll need a bit of time to explain that part."

"Oh," Cressida flinched, "if it's a touchy subject, I'm sorry for prying. You don't need to tell me if you don't want to. I vaguely get where you're coming from, though a lot of things were left unexplained, I understand if you have to keep a secret."

"No, nothing like that. It's just... It's something very important to me and my friends. I don't want to say it on a whim and regret it." He breathed out, deflating. Then, he looked up at her and smiled. "I summon thee for another meeting under the next moonlight!"

Cressida chuckled, watching him get up. "Tomorrow night? Alright." She held the hand he extended to her and got up, missing the feeling his fingers had on hers.

They inadvertently stared at each other's eyes, feeling closer to one another than they were the day before. Closer than they felt to someone else in quite a while, honestly, as though Odin's fears and story exposed his heart bare for Cressida to touch.

His sincere green eyes didn't look like they belonged to a buffoon. Despite his inclination to the colorful, he had the eyes of a trained soldier -- a veteran at that, despite being not much older than Cressida herself.

They felt their hearts beating in unison through their connected hands, their breathing almost mingling as they got lost in each other's eyes.

The signal for the change of patrol sounded way back at the camp, making both of them jump out of their skins and let go of each other. "Uh, see you tomorrow, then!" Cressida coughed, holding her hand over her chest, feeling it hotter than her flushed face.

"Y-yeah, uh, I mean, I'll be expecting thee!" He managed to cover up his awkwardness, scratching the back of his neck. Once Cressida was far from his sight, he sighed. "W-what's wrong with me...?"

They had made it an habit to meet under the moonlight, no matter where the army had set camp. They would always find a place to be by themselves and talk -- Odin wasn't as ready to speak of his past as he thought, so the topics they shared varied widely.

One day, Cressida mentioned how clear his movements looked whenever he mimicked holding a sword, and he told her he was actually a swordsman in 'another life'. She interpreted that as the life he had before coming to Nohr, but immediately smiled.

"Let's spar one of these days! Swords speaks volumes, did you know?"

"MY SOULMATE!!" He yelled, kneeling as though he was in deep pain. "THE SWORDS SPEAK; THEY COMMUNICATE WITH US... AND BOND WITH THEIR OWNERS!! A WELL CARED SWORD... IT'LL FIGHT VALIANTLY FOR YOU!!" He shouted to the skies, passionately gripping at his chest.

"A well-maintained sword will always have your back in battle." She nodded in accordance, giving her hand so he could get up. It was almost a ritual of theirs, giving each other's hands for whatever menial tasks they had around them. As though they looked for excuses to hold hands.

Preposterous. They were just helping each other, right?

But... what was that fluttering in their hearts? The desire to know more about his past and the undying urge to tell her all about himself.

Bit by bit did Odin reveal his story. About a dark hero who hailed from a broken future, a hero who served the Light Princess, who devised a ritual to bring them back in time.

About the forgotten name of such hero, one that hasn't been uttered in over five thousand years, that only two other persons knew of. About the bright present the hero helped save.

About meeting his baby self in that new world and how conflicted and happy that made him.

Of course, he never said any names, but Cressida oddly believed everything he said, no matter how covered in colorful explanations. Look at where they were, for the gods' sake! They jumped into a bottomless canyon, reached the bottom, discovered that a mad dragon was about to destroy their world and had to defeat him lest he cursed everyone like he had already done to a few select people! All the while not being able to speak of it on the surface!

As mind-boggling that time-travelling sounded, Cressida would nod in acceptance whenever Odin went back to that dark hero's story. She felt that it was true, and his clear green eyes -- they weren't capable of lying.

Suddenly, as Odin loudly told the tale of the Light Princess, Cressida remembered the name Odin so wanted her to forget about the night they first met. "Owain."

"Yes?" He turned his head instinctively to her, widening his eyes after realization sank in.

Cressida and Odin both felt their hearts stop, as though their beats were about to connect through the chilly air around them. The bow knight could feel how close they'd become and how nice that name sounded through her lips. She saw how pale he had become for a second, then how deeply he blushed, overjoyed to hear that name again for so long.

"That's your real name, isn't it? That's the 'other you' you met during your travels, right?" She huffed, scooting closer to him so as to take his hand.

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, halfway to the words. "I..." his shoulders sagged, his lips unable to hide the smile as his eyes burned with tears. "Y-yes, that's right. My real name is Owain."

Cressida held his hand on both of hers, holding it dearly over her chest. "Odin?" She called lovingly, feelings she was vaguely aware of overflowing from inside of her.

The mage shyly looked up at her, averting his eyes right after. "Y-yes?"

"Can I kiss Owain?" She asked so naturally she surprised herself.

"Y-yes?" He replied instinctively, widening his eyes with delay as he felt Cressida's hand on his cheek, turning his face to her. "W-wait, wha-mmpph...!"

It was a simple press of lips, but somehow it spoke so much louder than any words Cressida could convey. She pressed her forehead on his once she was done, feeling the heat cover her cheeks. "I might be in love with you, Owain. Your sincerity, your stories; the way you face your dark past with resilience and how you take on the present with a smile on your face." She whispered, caressing his face, enjoying his huffed breath over her lips. "I love it all."

"Hey, you said 'dark past'!" He laughed nervously, placing an hesitant hand over her back so as to bring her closer to him.

Cressida laughed. "I take it back, you're really a buffoon." She nudged his shoulder, enjoying how free his laugh sounded on her ears.

"Oh, Mighty Cressida! Are you really saying what I think you are?! I... I've been in love with you for so long..."

"Oh?" She moved closer to him, placing one knee on either side of his body. "This Mighty Cressida thinks you should tell her more."

Feeling his eyes burn, Odin, now Owain, hugged her tightly, digging his face in her trapezium. "I've fallen in love with your worry, with your diligence, with your kindness... Honestly, I was thinking you were too good for me, Mighty Cressida." He scoffed, taking her scent in. "... Can I ask you one thing?"

Cressida hugged him back, caressing his hair with one hand. "Many things." She said, her heart thumping so hard she knew Owain could hear it.

"Can you say it again? My name. It... sounded so good with your voice."

"O-of course," she blushed, understanding how meaningfully private that hidden name was for him, slightly embarrassed for sharing such deep moment with him. "Of course, Owain." She rested her cheek over his head. "Do you want me to call you as Owain from now on?"

"By the gods, do not!" He laughed nervously, breaking away from the hug. "People mustn't know my true identity!"

"Then... can I call you that in private?" She placed her index by his chest, seeing how he blushed even harder.

"Y-you... you may." He lost himself in her gaze, wanting so very much to taste her lips once more. "Oh, Mighty Cressida, never leave me. Stay by my side forever!"

Cressida placed a lock of her hair behind her ear as she lowered herself to kiss him once again. "You're the one who said it first." She locked the promise by tasting him one more time, being welcomed with open lips. "Forever."

[gruumpy-cat]

The Art of Being Nonchalant (Or Not) / Chapter One

It was the night of my seventeenth birthday party. I was trying to fall asleep in the Potters' guest room, which is conveniently nicknamed Quinn's room since I was the one who mostly spent the nights there as opposed to any other guest, but I was too buzzed from drinking and dancing and thinking, so sleep eluded me.

One of the drawbacks of drinking, I guess. Though I don't remember ever hearing other people complain about sleepless nights after a night out. I'll have to ask around.

Deciding that sleep is just not in the cards tonight, I rolled out of bed, threw on my shorts and a loose T-shirt since I didn't want to walk around in my underwear, and gently opened the door of the bedroom.

Looking out into the hallway I could see that everyone's rooms were closed and I guessed they were probably asleep like normal people. Ignoring the obvious problem with going into another person's room at night uninvited, I tiptoed into the hallway and did my best stealthy Faceless Man impression until I got to the door of the room next to mine. I was honestly surprised I managed to do this without making a sound due to my buzzed state, but I guess luck was on my side tonight.

Carefully opening the door, I snuck in and was engulfed in almost complete darkness, the moon the only thing illuminating the room since the Potters' home was pretty isolated from the rest of Godric's Hollow.

"James?" I whispered. "You awake?"

I could hear faint grumbling from the direction of his bed. I stepped around the clothes on the floor, probably unceremoniously dumped before he crashed, and came over to where I could see him sprawled across the bed in a position any sane person would classify as impossible.

But James Sirius Potter always did do things the impossible way.

I sat down on the bed and poked him. My poke was awarded nothing more than an almost imperceptible grumble. It was time for drastic measures. I scooted over next to him and sat on his torso. That woke him up.

"Merlin's beard, Quinn, why are you bothering me in the middle of the night?" James looked at me through half closed eyes as he said this. He obviously forgot that we do something like this every year. Or he was still a bit drunk, which was probably closer to the truth. I was in no position to judge him. But I could blame grandad and Ethan for buying the booze for the party.

"Bothering you?" I looked at him as his eyes cleared and he realised that it was well after midnight and what that meant. He quickly sat up and engulfed me in a tight hug. I could smell the familiar minty smell of his shampoo on his still damp hair and the Firewhisky on his breath even though he brushed his teeth. The smell of alcohol is not something cured by toothpaste.

He drew back and smiled at me. We were so close that I could see the specks in his hazel eyes even in the low light. I returned his smile.

"Happy birthday, Quinn," he said in a low voice as he turned towards his end table and took out what I presumed to be my real birthday present. We usually got something jokey for each other to give out with the rest of our friends and family, but the real presents came after.

James gave me a fairly thin, neatly wrapped present and excitedly looked at me while I tore at the black wrapping paper.

The wrapping paper revealed a cardboard box. You could count on James to wrap his presents the right way, no messy cuts or badly taped Spellotape and definitely no presents outside of a box if they didn't come in their own. I, on the other hand, was a lost cause.

As I opened the box, a cloud obscured the moon and suddenly, we were in complete darkness. I could feel the familiar shape of a vinyl record sleeve but on top of it was something else I couldn't recognise by touch.

The cloud passed and moonlight streamed in, allowing me to actually see the presents. As soon as I saw the vinyl I nearly squealed but managed to stop myself before I woke anyone up.

"You found it! I can't believe you managed to get me the first LP Sons of Tyr ever recorded," I exclaimed, "they're incredibly rare."

James just grinned at me "It helps when your dad knows Mundungus Fletcher."

I looked at him with a horrified expression, "Tell me this didn't fall off the back of a broom!"

"Nah, he just conveniently knows a lot of people selling a lot of rare stuff, including records. He managed to get me a discount on account of you being easy on the eyes," he laughed at what I was sure was a disgusted look on my face.

Taking the other present in my hand and seeing it for what it was - a black picture frame decorated with little silver Beater's bats and Bludgers and the two of us, aged eleven, flying together in my parents' backyard during Christmas holidays. I could remember grandad taking the photograph right before my brother Ethan threw a snowball at his head. I was pretty sure this was the first photograph of the two of us together. James probably had to collude with my grandfather for this present.

"Do you like it?" James asked after I didn't say anything for a while, just looking at the moving photograph. I looked up at him and grinned.

"It's perfect, James. Thank you!"

He smirked, wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and said, "You know, I did like the other presents you got earlier."

I got up and put the vinyl and the photograph on his desk before lying down next to him.

"Oh really? Which one did you like the most?" I asked, turning on my side so I could look at him while we talked.

"My favourite was the one Ash got you," he blushed while he said this which was unusual since James almost never blushed unless his mum said something really embarrassing, like how he used to have a toy rabbit he slept with at home until he was twelve. He named the rabbit Fluffy and his dad found that hilarious for some reason.

"You mean the red slutty dress I would probably wear once a year?" I mused. My usual choice of attire was black jeans and a black T-shirt. I like the colour black. I would make a great woman of the Night's Watch if they accepted women and I lived in the A Song of Ice and Fire universe. Ashley Thompson, one of my dorm mates at Hogwarts, liked to give me presents that I would probably never buy for myself. I'm pretty sure all the dresses I own came from her one way or another.

He nodded, "Yeah, that's the one."

I lightly punched him, "You're just teasing me."

"Maybe. But I bet Al loved it. I think his jaw actually dropped," he said this in a lower voice.

At the mention of Al's name, I remembered what I was thinking about that possibly had a hand in making this night sleepless. I turned again so I was on my back staring at James' ceiling which was charmed to show the night sky.

"I broke up with Al tonight," I said with a sigh. Albus was my boyfriend for a total of two months which was certainly a record for me.

James snickered at that and asked, "Did you break my little brother's heart? I did tell him you probably will."

I thought about his question and felt the tiniest stab of guilt. Maybe I let it go on for too long before I broke it off.

"Of course I didn't! Al knows me and he was fine with, you know...me...," I trailed off.

"Merlin, did he break yours? I'll kill him if he did!" James' face was one of bewilderment and confusion as he looked at me with wide eyes.

"You know he couldn't," I replied with an eye roll. I was surprised he'd even think that.

"Why not?" He propped himself up on his elbows so he was looking down at me as he asked the question.

"Because I don't have a heart, James," I stuck out my tongue at him.

"Nice comeback, Quinn. So...why did you leave him? When did this even happen because I don't remember you missing any part of your party?"

I made a face. "What's with the third degree? It's not like you don't already know."

He plopped down on the bed again. I could see he was having a hard time between being my friend and being worried about his brother, however hard he tried to hide it. Al might be cool as the Giant Squid but James loved his siblings and he didn't like it when something was wrong with them.

I squeezed his hand in the hopes it would make him feel better. He squeezed back.

"We snuck out for a little while when you were doing your Gandalf impression," I said and winked at him, "but, unfortunately for Al, he and I had quite different things in mind when we snuck out."

"It wouldn't have been fair to stay with him. It was fun but he decided he wanted to talk about us and his feelings for me so I cut him off. This thing with him was just ... me passing time. Feelings didn't really have anything to do with it and you know it."

As I said this, James turned on his side, gave me an intense look and hugged me to him. We lay like that for a while in silence. I could hear the steady rhythm of his heart beating and it was soothing. The tiny pangs of guilt I felt about Al disappeared.

After what seemed like an eternity I could hear him as he whispered in my hair, "I know everything about you."

"Yeah. You do."

I woke up in James' bed the next day. The sunlight was streaming in through the window and I had to blink a few times to get adjusted to the light. James was still asleep with his arm around me. Waking up in his bed was not unfamiliar but remembering that just the night before I broke up with his brother made me realise it wouldn't look good if one of his family members happened upon us right now no matter how many times we had sleepovers before.

So I did what any sensible girl would do. I forcefully woke up James by alternatively poking him, whisper-yelling at him and tickling him until something of the three yielded results.

He had a grin on his face when he woke up.

"Happy birthday, Quinn."

"Yeah, yeah, you said that already. Now get up and Apparate me home!" I'll have to take the Apparition test soon now that I turned seventeen. James passed his a few weeks ago.

"Bloody woman, why are you so bossy?"

I frowned at him.

"I like things being done a certain way. Stop talking and turning around in a confused state so we can get going. I'd prefer it if you could bring me to my room but I guess the vicinity of my house would be good enough," I got up as I said this with a small smile and took both the vinyl and the photograph.

He made a pouty face and put a hand over his heart, "Are you suggesting I wouldn't be able to Apparate accurately? You deserve to be splinched!"

"You wouldn't splinch me! You like me too much," I smirked at him.

"Naah, I think I should after that insult. Maybe just a small splinch to teach you a lesson...how about your pinkie? Or your ear? Hm...," he touched my ear like he was seriously considering this and then he started tickling me. I was seriously ticklish and I just prayed to Merlin he'd stop soon or I'd start shrieking and probably cause the whole house to wake up.

Finally, he stopped but he had me pinned on the floor. He looked at me intensely like he was trying to figure out a particularly hard Arithmancy assignment but he soon changed his expression to a teasing one.

"Say I'm the best at Apparition!"

I rolled my eyes and sighed. He knew I was defeated.

"You're the best at Apparition, James. Can we get on with it now?"

As I said that everything went black and I felt the pressure all around me. Soon it was over and we were on my bed in the same position as before, with me pinned down under James.

I wiggled under him, "Get off, you hippogriff, I'm trying to breathe here!"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he smirked, again.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. But seriously, I need to -," I was cut off by a huge ball of grey fluff jumping on top of James causing him to literally stop my breathing with his body as he collapsed on top of me from shock.

"Argh," was the only sound I could make.

James rolled off me and fell on the floor with the ball of grey fluff, namely, my cat Ziggy, staring at him viciously and hissing. I guess Ethan and grandad forgot to feed him. And by feed him I mean refill his bowl when it was half full (Ziggy would probably call it half empty because he's a pessimist like that).

Looking at Ziggy with a slightly horrified expression, James turned to me and said, "Quinn, I said this already and I'll say it again, but your cat is psychotic!"

I tentatively extended my hand towards Ziggy so I could try and pet him but he jumped off my bed in a huff and threw me a scornful look as he stood next to his half-full bowl.

Such theatrics.

"He's not psychotic, he just doesn't like anyone. Or anything. Well, he sometimes likes me but I'm sure that's just because he sees me as a constant food source. And he liked you that one time when he allowed you to pet him!" I felt the need to defend Ziggy even though he was a little bit, well, evil. Sometimes. I adopted him from a Muggle shelter nearby three years ago when he was just a tiny kitten. Even as a kitten he wasn't particularly friendly and his first adopted family brought him back to the shelter because of it.

James got up and gave him a few cat treats I had on my desk. Ziggy purred at that. I could swear he smiled. But cats don't smile. They do love bribes, apparently, because Ziggy allowed James to pet him for a second before prancing over to my window and jumping on the sill to look at the birds flying around a nearby oak tree.

"You're coming over later, right?" I asked, "Everyone is going to be there for lunch, even mum and dad, but they're leaving tonight because they both have practice tomorrow morning. We could do a movie marathon."

James sat down next to me on the bed and bumped my shoulder, "Of course I'm coming over. What kind of a birthday evening would it be without me?"

I smiled gratefully at him and hugged him, "Great!"

He stood up and said, "See you soon, Quinn," before Disapparating with a quiet pop.

Looking around my room, I realised I seriously needed to tidy up because the only remotely neat things in here were my Quidditch kit and my record collection. My school trunk was still sitting relatively unpacked even though I was going back to Hogwarts in two weeks and my clothes were in two different piles, the clean one near my closet and the dirty one on the floor next to my bed. I wasn't usually this messy, and grandad surely wouldn't tolerate it under normal circumstances, but I've been spending almost all my time at the Potters' house during the last few days so he turned a blind eye. He had a soft spot for me. Feeling lucky I could finally use magic outside of school I decided to try my hand at some of those household spells I've seen grandad using after I've had breakfast.

After changing into something I dug out of the clean clothes pile and filling Ziggy's bowl, I tied my dark hair into a messy bun and went downstairs. I could hear my grandad in the kitchen, hopefully making breakfast, and talking with somebody.

"Good morning," I said as I entered the kitchen. Immediately I could see my dad's face in the kitchen fireplace. Grandad turned around and they both exclaimed, in weirdly similar voices, "Quinn, love!"

Grandad came over and engulfed me in one of his bear hugs, "Happy birthday, my favourite granddaughter!"

"I'm your only granddaughter!"

I could hear dad alternating between yelling birthday wishes and singing the birthday song in a horribly off-tune voice. He could be really silly sometimes. Or all the time. He liked to say he got hit one too many times in the head with a Bludger but that wasn't even close to the truth.

"Dad, please stop, I just woke up," I said with a yawn.

He just snickered, "Don't lie, dad told me James just brought you home so you've been awake for at least half an hour."

I threw my grandad a look and muttered, "How in the seven hells did you even hear us, James' Apparating is freakishly quiet?"

Grinning, he just said, "Magic." He turned around and continued frying the omelette he was making when I interrupted.

"Quinn, I've got to go because practice starts soon and the Captain can't be late. I love you and I'll see you at lunch," dad said with a sad expression, which in turn made my grin disappear. I was hoping to at least exchange more than two sentences with him. I couldn't blame him really. Being a Captain of the Ballycastle Bats and also a Chaser on the English National Quidditch Team meant he had very little time for family. But he was living the life I hoped I would someday so I was quick to forgive and forget.

"Love you, dad," I said as I gave him my best smile and waved at him. His head disappeared from the fireplace. My grandad was muttering something to himself, but since I didn't have his unnatural hearing, I couldn't decipher what he was saying. He looked a bit angry.

I sat on the barstool at our kitchen island while I waited for him to finish breakfast.

"Did mum Floo while I was in my room?"

He turned around and put a plate full of food in front of me, "No, but you know she's as busy as Dylan is."

I rolled my eyes at that, "Oh yeah, she's so fucking busy she can't even Floo to wish me a happy birthday."

Grandad frowned and said, "That's the life of a professional Quidditch player. Your parents love you and they try their best...," he trailed off, "But I have no bloody idea what would've become of you and Ethan if I wasn't here."

"Right. We would've probably dropped dead."

"I was thinking more in the line of both of you becoming completely wild and untameable. It's not like you're much better even with me here."

I made a face. Grandad was one of those people that can't help being blunt. As I munched on my food, I realised Ethan wasn't here.

"Where's Ethan, anyway?" I asked.

Grandad shrugged his shoulders, "I expect he's at his flat."

"But he's never at his flat...unless he has a girl there!" I was grinning at this. I loved to tease Ethan's girls because he usually had a type. I don't know how, but he always managed to end up with one who didn't believe in one night stands (even though she just had a one night stand with him) and quickly became more and more crazy as the morning after dragged on. Though I wondered who the hell would go off with my brother out of the Weasley girls (I knew it wasn't Lily Potter since she was way too young). I couldn't remember seeing him with anyone in particular last night, but then again, some parts of the party were a little hazy.

"I know what you're thinking, Quinn, and I have no idea who the girl is. I always mix up all those Weasleys anyway," grandad said this with a huge smirk on his face. Even though he never looked at another woman after my grandma died, he fully supported Ethan in his conquests. He also supported me in mine. I guess he was pretty supportive.

"So, what's the plan for today?" I knew it would be pointless to ask for my presents right now because it was tradition to do a family birthday lunch and then get presents. The fact that birthdays are one of the rare days we're all in the same place at the same time makes them extra special.

"Your dad is going to cook and your mum is baking the cake and I'll finally have some well-deserved respite from all the cooking around here," he said this as he sipped his black coffee. Grandad woke up crazy early every day and by the time I got up he'd already spent half a day doing his thing. But he liked to keep me company while I ate. I think he was pretty lonely while I was at Hogwarts and that's why he didn't mind the fact that my twenty-four-year-old brother spent most of his time here instead of at his own flat.

Grandad looked at me teasingly, "So, what did your boyfriend get you? I don't want to know if it's anything that has to do with shagging."

I almost choked on the last piece of my omelette.

"You're fine talking to me about shagging but don't want to know the details. Got it, thanks grandad, that wasn't embarrassing at all."

He just laughed at me. Wonderful.

"Sometimes I think I'd be better off if you or Ethan were even a little embarrassed about your escapades but then I remember I'm the cool grandad and the thought quickly disappears. So, what did Al get you?"

"You're our only grandad!" I exclaimed.

I never met my mother's parents. They were Muggles and she talked about them a lot. Said they were free spirits which I understood to be a bit weird and unconventional and made me feel sorry I never met them. They died a pretty conventional death, though. They were going to a Black Sabbath concert on their bikes and a driver who fell asleep at the wheel crashed into them. Sad story.

"Al got me concert tickets to see Sons of Tyr in February and he's not my boyfriend anymore," I said, not meeting his eyes. He liked Al. Grandad, Ethan and Al had that Slytherin brotherhood going for them.

I'm not sure why I didn't meet his eyes because grandad is always on my side. He just shrugged his shoulders, "Another one bites the dust, eh?  Ethan owes me 20 Galleons!"

"You bet on my relationship?" I was more amused than surprised.

"Can you even call it a relationship if it lasts for just a few weeks?"

"Few weeks! It lasted for two months. Give or take."

He laughed at me again. I love it when people laugh at me. Not. Maybe being a stand-up comedian should be my backup if I fail at professional Quidditch. But I'm honestly not that funny.

"It lasted exactly six weeks, I should know since I bet on it."

I stood up and washed my plate for the first time using magic. I could get used to this. We never had house elves or nannies or anything like that because grandad was a firm believer in doing things on your own so you don't become spoiled and incompetent. I'm not convinced he succeeded in not spoiling me but eh, at least I could wash my own plate.

Spending my birthday cleaning my room wasn't ideal but I really couldn't stand the mess any longer. I put the Sons of Tyr LP James got me on my turntable and started. By the time I was finished, I managed to find two T-shirts I thought lost forever and one of Ziggy's favourite toys. After taking a shower I heard two distinct pops. I ran out of my room and down the stairs until I finally saw my parents after I don't know how many weeks of only communicating by owl or through the fireplace.

"Quinn! Happy birthday, honey!" My mum hugged me and I forgot about my annoyance with her from this morning. I missed her. I missed my dad.

"Hey mum, dad," I mumbled because I couldn't talk like a normal person since my dad decided that a group hug was in order so I was pretty much getting crushed between the two of them. Dad towered above both me and my mum and she was pretty strong for her slight Seeker build.

They finally released me and I grinned at them.

"Nice of you two to show up," I said with a wink. They started talking over one another trying to explain their busy lives and I had to stop them before they started arguing because that's how these things usually end.

"Stop, stop! I was just kidding, Merlin's pants!" As I said this grandad came into the living room.

"Son, Ivy, good to see you."

Mum turned towards him and hugged him. I don't know why but she likes to give out hugs.

"Ian! How are you? Did everything go alright yesterday? Is...," and off she went with the questions about everything. I tuned out. Dad was already in the kitchen starting with the meal and mum soon joined him. I kept them company. We chattered about my party and Ethan and even Al, though apparently, they thought I was kidding back when I told them in a letter we were together. I have no idea why.

Sometime while they were cooking, we heard a loud crack and Ethan entered the kitchen. Mum immediately attacked him with questions about his job, his (lack of a) girlfriend (at this I sniggered) and so on. I gave him a sympathetic look.

After the lunch was over it was time for my presents at last. Dad gave me a small silver box.

"This is from your mother and me," he said. I opened it and found a watch inside. It was black instead of gold, with silver Roman numerals and stars instead of dials. It would've been quite traditional (except for the material) had it not been for the engraving on the back - Fuck Fear, which was something of a Jones family motto, and yet, only dad and I were Gryffindors, and grandma Olivia, too, but she was killed by a dragon so I'm not sure fearlessness was to her benefit.

Dad was just about to say something else when mum cut him off, "You better like it, Quinn. I swear we bickered for the past month until we settled on the design we thought you'd like. So even if you don't like it, pretend that you do and wear it for our benefit, and I don't care how ridiculous that sounds," she drew a breath and continued, "You like it, right?" she said this with a slightly psycho-looking smile.

Ethan was trying not to laugh, grandad was smoking his pipe and pretending not to listen to her, or maybe he wasn't pretending, he liked to tune her out sometimes, and dad looked exasperated.

"Yeah, I like it, thanks!" I nodded my head up and down as I tried to be as enthusiastic as possible because mum was still psycho-smiling. I did like it but she was a crazy perfectionist who couldn't stand the thought of something being, well, not perfect. If it wasn't then she'd go off on a tangent and yeah...We learned to live with it.

Ethan took out a pair of blood red Quidditch gloves from his bag and shoved them at me.

"Here you go, little demon. They're dragon hide gloves, Vipertooth model, tailored for Beaters so they'll give you a little extra kick when you swing the bat -"

He was interrupted by a wolf Patronus that appeared in our dining room. It spoke in a voice I haven't heard before but it was obviously familiar to Ethan.

"Jones, we need you at HQ right now, bring your heavy-duty kit," as soon as the wolf said this, it disappeared.

Ethan got up from the table and gave me a small smile, "Duty calls, little demon, but I hope you'll make good use of my present. I'll see you all later." He turned on the spot and Disapparated with a crack.

Mum looked slightly worried but she quickly masked her expression. She was too proud to admit she worried constantly about all of us, especially Ethan since he worked as a Hit Wizard, but we all knew it. That's why grandad kept most of my Quidditch injuries a secret from her. She'd go mad with worry and she'd feel guilty for not being there. Dad was slightly more reasonable, or he was just very good at keeping up the appearance of being cool all the time.

"He's going to be alright, Ivy," dad said this as he covered mum's hand with his own and she nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, I know...Merlin, is that the time? I have to be back in Appleby for the afternoon practice," she rolled her eyes at that. "Bloody Orlov is convinced I'm giving out team secrets to Dylan. I fucking hate that guy, why the fuck did they make him Captain instead of me? I'm the fucking better strategist, that's fucking obvious..."

Luckily, grandad decided to interrupt her before she could go on another rant about Ivan Orlov, one of the best Keepers in the League and my mum's Captain.

"I'll clear the table," he said as he waved his wand around and all the dirty dishes followed him out of the dining room.

Dad was suddenly very interested in the gloves Ethan got me and I pretended I was interested in my new watch.

"Okay, I'll stop talking about Orlov, I get the message. You lot aren't exactly subtle," she glared at us as she said this. "I still do need to go. Quinn, I love you and I'll see you before you go back to school," she narrowed her eyes as she turned to dad, "and you, I'll see you tonight." I couldn't decipher if that was a booty call or if she was angry at him about something. It was probably both.

"Ahem, hm, yeah, right, okay," dad was red in the face. For a star Quidditch player who dealt with journalists all the time, he was painfully unable to hide his feelings. It made his interviews funny to read because he'd often get angry and start hexing the journalist who did the interview. More often than not, the journalist in question was Rita Skeeter. She held a huge grudge against him after he turned her into a toad one time.

"I'm going, too, sorry Quinn but you know, I've got that fundraiser later. We'll see each other soon, yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Grandad came back from the kitchen and looked around, "They're gone, then?"

I nodded. He frowned.

"You still haven't seen the present I got you, come on, it's in my study," he put an arm around my shoulders and guided me to his study room. It was bright with diffuse light that came in through the big glass double door facing the north side of my parents' property and overlooking the Quidditch pitch grandad put up shortly after five-year-old me zoomed past him on a toy broom while he was gardening. We lived in a small wooded area near Bath and grandad put a lot of Muggle repelling charms around the property so they wouldn't stumble upon us, especially with the Quidditch pitch being obviously out of place.

He opened his closet, took out a broom and gave it to me. I nearly jumped from joy when I saw it but I managed to keep my cool and just hugged him tightly.

"The Stormwind! It's not even in the stores yet!" The broom was black, made from world-class ebony with numerous protective and aerodynamic spells woven into it. It was going to be the fastest broom on the market, faster by five seconds than the newest model Thunderbolt. But it wasn't the speed that was its prime characteristic, it was the incredible balance it provided. The Stormwind was the only broom in the world that adapted to its rider and the spell that made it so was the best-kept secret in the Quidditch world. Rumour had it that Selene Zhang, the Stormwind designer, didn't even reveal the secret to her board of directors.

"Selene is a close friend," grandad said it like it was no big deal.

"I didn't even know you knew her. How do you know her?" I asked.

"How did you not know that her mother was one of my best players in the Tornados?" He was genuinely surprised.

"Jessica? I don't know, I don't keep tabs on players after they retire. But anyway, thanks grandad, you know it's like, the best present ever, right up there with James'."

"Yeah, well, don't just count on your fancy new broom to win the Quidditch cup," he said gruffly, "you still need to practice your Backbeat!"

I grinned at him and teasingly said, "My Backbeat is going to be better than yours!"

"I expect nothing less."

I was alone at home when James came over in the evening. Grandad went out with his friends down to the pub and Ethan was still MIA. We were now lounging in the living room contemplating which movie marathon we were going to have. Both James and I were big fans of Muggle movies.

James was sitting on the fluffy white carpet and playing with my hair that fell down the sofa since I was lying down. Ziggy was sleeping on the armchair.

"So, Lord of the Rings or The Godfather?" he asked.

"Don't make me choose, you know I'm indecisive as hell."

"The Godfather, then. We haven't watched that in a while. Pancakes or popcorn?"

"James, you're trying to make me choose something again!"

"Both?" he chuckled.

"James Potter, you are brilliant!" I beamed at him and got up from the sofa. He followed me to the kitchen. James was terrible at cooking so I waved my wand and the ingredients for the pancake batter started to stir in a bowl. I sat up on the kitchen island he was leaning against.

"How was lunch with your family?" he asked me. I showed him the presents my family got me as soon as he Apparated. He was just as excited as I was by the fact that I now had the Stormwind. He even said he'll ask his parents to buy him one when it hit the market even though they just recently bought him the new Firebolt. Lily can have the Firebolt, apparently.

"Eh, okay, but I think my mum made a booty call to my dad in front of me."

James raised his brows, "Lucky Dylan!"

"Ew, what? That's my mum!" I made a disgusted face at him but he just wiggled his eyebrows.

"Says the girl who shagged my little brother for the past two months."

That shut me up. I took out the pancake pan and turned on the stove. When the pan heated up, I started frying the pancakes in silence. James came over from behind me and hugged me around the waist.

"I was just kidding, Quinn, don't be angry at me," he said in a low voice. I turned my head so I could look him in the eyes and smiled at him. That seemed to reassure him.

"I'm not angry, I'm just plotting my revenge!" He grinned at that and kissed my cheek.

"Okay."

In the middle of the third movie, Ethan Apparated in the living room which made me scream since I wasn't expecting it and, more importantly, because he was covered in blood. I rushed over to him, James following with a troubled look. Ethan just waved us away.

"Not my blood," his breath smelled of Firewhisky and his words sounded slightly slurred, "let me just get another Firewhisky before I crash."

James threw me a look and I just shrugged my shoulders. He went over to the fridge and brought the bottle of Firewhisky with three glasses. James and I settled on the sofa and Ethan on the armchair with Ziggy who promptly woke up, hissed at Ethan, jumped off and left to another corner of the room.

We drank in silence, neither I nor James knowing what to say. Ethan wasn't volunteering any information and there was no point in trying to pry it from him. If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't talk.

After another three glasses, Ethan got up and went to his old room.

James put his hand around me and I leaned my head against his shoulder. I think I fell asleep in that position because I woke up in my bed in the middle of the night and James was lying next to me with his arm laid protectively around me.

It felt reassuring to have him here.

[elbowgreaserp]

Alright, let’s get this show on the road? HERMIONE GRANGER, ACCEPTED! Know-It-All in the house.

OOC INFORMATION

NAME, AGE, TIMEZONE: Bolt, 21+, EST. 

ACTIVITY LEVEL: 7-8.

TRIGGER ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: Duh.

ACTIVITY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: x2.

NOTES: I apologize in advance for Hermione Granger and the high stress situations. 

IC INFORMATION

NAME, AGE, SEXUALITY: Hermione Granger, 21, straight.

FANDOM: Harry Potter.

HOMETOWN: London, England. 

CLUBS, ORGANIZATIONS, OTHER:  TBA (there’s a lot)

FIVE POSITIVE TRAITS: Highly logical, extremely intelligent, resourceful, hardworking, clever, responsible, focused, determined, courageous, good hearted, ambitious, organized, proper, empathetic, curious. 

FIVE NEGATIVE TRAITS: Headstrong, Bossy, Obsessive compulsive, studious, skeptical, perfectionist, manipulative, emotional, blunt, argumentative.

BIGGEST FEARS & PHOBIAS: Failure, the death of her loved ones, public humiliation, being unable to solve her own problems. 

SCARIEST EXPERIENCE: When Hermione was much younger and shopping with her mother in an old C&A, she was nearly abducted by an escaped convict. The store clerk caught wind and security was involved (which turned into a nasty spat), and police apprehended him later that day.  Additionally, once again as a child, in attempts to get a book she couldn’t reach, she toppled over a shelf while trying to climb it and was buried in books. Her mother insists she could have died, but Hermione refuses to accept it. 

DO THEY BELIEVE IN THE GHOSTS/PARANORMAL?: Hermione is an absolute skeptic and tends to veer more along the scientific line of things always, and typically needs to see substantial proof before she throws her belief into it, but as a child after her granddad's passing she did see an apparition. She still tries to convince herself that it was very much a figment of her imagination, but the nagging never really left her, and deep in her heart she knows that wasn’t the case. 

ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER WE SHOULD BE AWARE OF?: For those that don’t know Hermione, she can come across in this verse as super posh, bossy, stuck up, and an extreme know-it-all (if ever a class was shared with her) but she’s got the heart of gold, especially if you’re close to her and within her small friend group. While doing this for the experience, this is a lot out of her comfort zone. Not in the sense that she’s afraid of getting her hands dirty, or the wilderness; but being around everyone for such an extended period of time with no school work, or an endless library to distract her from it. Typically the summers are spent traveling and catching up with her parents. She is OCD and prone to panic attacks when things veer off course, though she tries to keep a level head. 

ANY CHANGES TO YOUR CHARACTER THAT SHOULD BE NOTED?: The obvious is that she isn’t a witch. While the easier route would be to go with Hermione, Harry, and Ron knowing each other since they were children, I’m going to make it easy on everyone and state that they’re all their own people (despite adoring them, and their friendship from the bottom of my GD heart). 

WHY IS YOUR CHARACTER PARTICIPATING IN THE PROJECT?: Truthfully, Hermione’s thought process lies upon her resume, and if they can pull this off successfully, this is exactly the type of thing that shows her dedication, along with know how. Yes, there are other people there assisting, but the planning and execution, along with everything else that goes on behind the scenes is what she wants to be tied to. While she can appear to come across as stuck up, and a little too tightly wound, the party isn’t where her heart lies. 

WRITING SAMPLE

(College verse, 22 jump street au)                  What am I to you?

 “The reason my fridge is empty.” An ALL TOO QUICK response from Hermione Granger, laced in teasing, narrowed eyes PLAYFUL and bright. Albeit a little suspicious at to where the SUDDEN QUESTION came from. Ron was much more of a physical being in moments like this and it sounded a little WEIGHTY. Which shouldn’t have made her stomach swoop and twist with nervousness, but it had. The first impression he’d ever made wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon, if ever, but they’d come a LONG WAY since then.

         “An absolute cheater.” Because her pride still wouldn’t let Hermione admit that she wasn’t good at something. Especially something as trivial as VIDEO GAMES. made for children. Her neck arched up so her lips could capture Ron’s, a little incentive to take her words in stride instead of as a blow to the ego.

          “A personal heater.” That she clung to, especially when the snow was falling and the dorms were like ice. There had been many nights she’d called him over to cuddle, quietly laughing in the darkness when lavender brown started another long winded, unconscious conversation with herself. Because of course Hermione would not only have an intolerable roommate that left a cloud of glitter and obnoxious fruity breeze wherever she went with her peppy self; but a sleep talker as well. a NIGHTMARE.

          “Number four on speed dial.” Not that she ever actually used speed dial; but he was on there, purely out of the fact that they texted that much, that her iPhone had deemed him important enough to take precedent over the majority of her contacts beyond her parents and best friend that was halfway around the world, living her life.

          “Muscle, when I need it.” Airy and causal as she shrugged under his weight, though she fondly remembered when he’d taken FULL LIBERTY to be a nerd (a very sweet nerd) and opted out of flowers for books. Unable to carry everything back to her dorm herself, he’d helped and was rewarded with a locked door to keep Lavender out, and an all too exuberant thank you that spanned hours and ended with pizza at two in the morning.

           “My Ibiza roommate if you think harry can survive without you for a few days.” They hadn’t talked about it, but a few days without having to worry about assignments and the general school grind of events and extracurriculars? It sounded kind of perfect. “I know you two are terribly attached, but as a GINGER, I’m sure you understand the importance of sunscreen; and it goes without saying that I will need someone to personally apply it, and unless you’d rather him being THAT person for you…  I figure we could have a bit of a trade off. And maybe you could tell me what i am to YOU.”

[narusetami]

19/04/15, hogsmeade

It was her birthday tomorrow. Finally. She was excited about being seventeen- not just because she could now belt Dancing Queen and truly feel as though the song was about her- and all that being seventeen would bring. She doubted she’d feel older, of course, but after half a year of studying apparition she was excited to have the freedom to apparate whenever she liked, she could learn to drive too and the trace would be gone so, to some extent, she felt as though the world was getting just a little bit bigger for her. Which was brilliant.

Her parents gifts would probably arrive by breakfast tomorrow but before that her birthday would be a day like any other, Mondays were hardly her favourite day of the week but she was more than a little determined to make her birthday a good one- maybe just a little bit because Sonder had predicted it wouldn’t be. She did rather enjoy celebrating herself on rare occasions. Hence why she was in Hogsmeade, while the elves were excellent with all things food they couldn’t be expected to make cakes for every individual student on their birthdays, and Madam Puddifoot was kind enough to take requests for those who bothered to ask or were willing to pay for the service. They were damn good too, this year Tami had requested a red velvet cake, it was a single tier with tiny white buttercream leaves decorated around the cake’s edge, and the top presented the message ‘Happy Birthday, Tami!’ in the centre, iced in a pale pink with sugar cherry blossom petals framing it. A little more elegant that last year, for she thought the situation called for it, but regardless it would taste amazing and make a wonderful breakfast.

Even on a Sunday the shop was busy, the weather was mild outside but within the shop the air was warm and filled with chatter, the atmosphere was always a little overwhelming with all the couples who flocked there. They shared cakes, sipped steaming beverages from delicate cups, gazed at each other across small tables, reached cautiously to hold hands under the table or whisper sweet nothing’s to each other as though the world outside the two of them didn’t seem to exist. It was nice, Tami thought, perhaps a little too cliche to be what she would consider actually romantic but she could see why cakes and tea drew couples in- that and the added bonus of being safely tucked away from the often crisp Scottish weather. She might’ve stayed for a while too, had some tea and spent some time in her own company, but there was homework she still had to do and a quick detour she had to take before heading back to the castle. No time for cake and tea today. So when Madam Puddifoot presented her with a plain pale pink box, with her birthday cake inside, she paid the remainder of her bill and tucked the box away in the bag she’d brought as carefully as possible before thanking and bidding the woman farewell.

It was a nice day actually, not as cold as it had been at the start of the school year, she wouldn’t need the scarf that was at the bottom of her bag, she even felt a little silly in the thick jumper and jacket she’d worn- she could’ve easily exchanged the jumper for a t-shirt and still been perfectly fine- but she was in too good a mood to dwell on such things. Instead she gently swung her bag by her side as she walked towards the edges of town, the roads always crunched more under foot when they turned from solid rock to frosted path and trees began spilling out either side of the route. Tami had always liked it, the quiet of the woods running off from Hogsmeade, the path towards the drop off where the Shrieking Shack loomed in the distance, she had laughed when she heard that people had often believed it was haunted. Tami thought it was magic. In her very first year she’d come trudging down the path and ran to where the fence stopped people from wandering too far towards the slope of the land, she’d looked across to where the Shrieking Shack stood tall, sucked in a deep breath and then screamed at it. A hearty yell, at the top of her lungs, it carried with it all of her worried for that first term of school and she’d felt as though the wind had picked up all those things and taken them to the rotting building to keep. The only thing that haunted that house were memories, people’s pain and frustration, she thought there was something awfully sad about a house carrying such a burden but it had always made her feel better to grasp the fence and shout out to it. She felt as though the Shrieking Shack could hold her pain for her, or at least feel her frustration at the world and bare some of the weight, so of course she intended to yell a lot before her birthday this year.

When the trees began to clear and the path widened a smile broke across her face and she ran the remaining distance, skidding rather than stopping at the fence, colliding right into it and letting out a shaky laugh as the wind was almost knocked out of her. She released her hold on her bag for the time being, pushing onto her tip toes and holding tight onto the fence instead, as usual the Shrieking Shack was standing in all it’s glory in the distance.

“Long time no see!”

Her voice was caught and washed away in the wind completely, lost before it had chance to echo, but she smiled all the same. It was the wind that made the Shrieking Shack shriek these days, all those rotten walls and floors, sometimes the weather was so bad that the whole thing seemed to sway as if it could blow away any second, she knew when it whistled and sang it was nothing more than the air passing through but it still made her smile wider and her hair stand on end.

“I’m going to be seventeen soon! I’m going to be better next year! I’ll make sure to be stronger and shout louder, maybe I’ll come and see you for real some time soon!”

When she said it like that, bellowed it from her lungs, she almost believed it. It was easier said than done, after everything that had happened, she wanted to truly think that things would be different this year and the world would change but waiting was taxing. People would possibly call her impatient but that wasn’t it, it just mattered a lot, when it was young people and your future- your possible children and grandchildren’s future- that seemed to be held in the hands of people who didn’t really care about it.

But she would try to change things, of course, one step at a time.

“I hope I can visit Japan this year! I hope I do well on future tests! I hope my cake is as delicious in reality as it is in my head!” The last one made her laugh, the air in her lungs was so cold and wild that it made her eyes water, her hair whipped about her face and for good measure she sucked in another breath before shouting out a proud warrior cry- a final message for the building that whistled back at her.

She settled back on the ground properly, her feet aching slightly for having been stood on her tip toes for an extended period, and her gaze lingered longingly in the distance even when her grip released from the fence. She watched the Shrieking Shack even as she lent down to grab her bag again, and sighed when she finally, and reluctantly, turn away from the drop off and back towards the path.

She only took a step before she was stilled.

“Thought so, I thought I recognised you!”

“Excuse me?”

“Tamiko Naruse, right?”

He knew her name. There was nothing wrong with that, she supposed, lots of people knew her in the town considering she’d been popping in for six years. Tami was never really shy, she struck up conversations with people all the time, liked to chime in on hot topics and spread information about one of her many causes. She never forgot a face, but she didn’t recognise his. Couldn’t properly see his. There was a scarf wrapped around his face, pulled right up to his nose, and a hat pulled down over his eyes. He was stood where the path still had some shape and there was decent space between them, she couldn’t guarantee she’d know him from the distance even if he wore less. But he knew her, there was no denying it, someone who wasn’t sure wouldn’t be stood the way he was, oozing confidence. He was taller than her by at least a foot, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, feet apart and stance relaxed. That could be any number of people she’d run into in town, it wasn’t unusual for people to be taller than her, it wasn’t unusual for people to wrap up warm either.

Though the day was nicer.

“You are Tamiko Naruse, aren’t you?” He took a step forward then, she noticed fleetingly that the question wasn’t unknowing, he asked as if jogging her memory rather than being unsure of the actual answer. Her hair was still on end. “You’re the kid- the one who staged the protest for that Foley character?”

Oh.

“Sorry, yes, I-”

“I knew it, quite incredible, they mentioned it in the papers. I read about you.”

“Oh, it wasn’t all that impressive, it’s not as though I did it all alone, there was a lot of support so I can’t really take all the credit.”

And she hadn’t. She hadn’t taken any credit, she’d read the article when it came out, it didn’t even mention her name. That doesn’t mean anything. Anyone could ask around Hogsmeade and find out she was the one who organised things, it wasn’t anything new, she was known for this sort of thing so finding out she was connected to the protest would be easy.

Ah, her hair was still on end.

“Still, to put that together for your professor, takes some real guts to do something like that. I was very impressed, a lot of people were, it’d be great to hear more about the work you’ve done- or any future work you have ideas for- if you have time?”

She did have time, of course she did, students headed back from Hogsmeade early from time to time but it would be hours yet before the professors rounded up any stragglers and made sure everyone was back at the castle. If she didn’t arrive back at the castle now, no one would pay it any mind, a thought which occurred to her in a tangle of other thoughts and made her heart rattle against her rib cage. This was so stupid, she was just paranoid, it wasn’t as though she hadn’t talked to strangers before- though her parents had drummed ‘stranger danger’ into her head she had never been worried about talking to people. No, she’d never felt like this, she’s spent her childhood around vampires with blood under their nails and centuries behind their eyes but she’d never felt the need to run.

“That’s really nice of you but I actually can’t stay long, I have plans later so I’m expected back at school.” Was her voice steady? She couldn’t tell, she couldn’t even hear herself, just her heart thudding in her chest. If she was going to lie she’d have to do better. So she inhaled slowly and took a few confident steps forward, laughing as she did and adding lightly, “If I don’t get back soon my presence will be sorely missed.”

There, that was easy. Now she just had to walk, right past the stranger, right back down the path, right back to Hogsmeade. Maybe she could skip? It wasn’t like she wasn’t prone to occasionally skipping, skipping was faster than walking, she could just skip ahead, until she was around the bend, then she could run.

She could do it.

“That’s sweet, and it’s also what we’re counting on, right?”

She’d crossed half the space between them already but his words stilled her, not even his words but the cock of his head, the glance behind her, the rattling of fence that she could’ve passed off as wind had the soft thud of feet hitting the ground not followed. Swallowing thickly she dared a glance over her shoulder and a funny feeling came over her, it wasn’t often her heart managed to jump into her throat and drop at the same time, twisting her stomach up with nausea. She didn’t know the second stranger either, they were dressed similarly and their face hidden but somehow she just knew they were unknown to her, and she knew it didn’t matter. Her legs were jelly. She couldn’t run on jelly legs. She couldn’t do a lot of things, apparently. She couldn’t have seen this coming- except, no, maybe that wasn’t true. People told themselves that bad things couldn’t be predicted to make themselves feel better, as if somehow leaving terrible things up to fate made them less unbearable, but at some point she had known. At some point it had dawned on her, quietly but surely, that this wasn’t a situation she was just going to walk out of. She didn’t need any veela senses to have told her that, though perhaps they would’ve come in handy, maybe if she’d tapped into them more she could’ve read their intentions earlier. That wouldn’t do either, maybe that was worse, she thought back to those broken bodies at Halloween and wondered if they’d felt it all in the end. If the weight of someone else’s hatred had crushed them on the inside, causing more damage than even the outside would show.

No, she was glad she couldn’t feel it, because she needed to focus. She needed to think clearly right now, despite the nature of her people Tami had always preferred to be lead by her mind than her emotions, she prided herself on solving challenges whenever she faced them and this couldn’t be any different. She needed to get back to Hogsmeade and she needed to do it fast, she didn’t have much time and, more importantly, she didn’t have much resources. It was stupid of her not to bring her wand, her wandless magic was unpredictable at best, but all of this was very stupid. She could see that now, how silly of her it had been to walk out of town by herself, without her wand, just months after so many of her people were killed. Tami had been so very determined to not be afraid, to prove she was stronger than the things that scared her, she’d told herself if she could go beyond her comfort zone then she’d prove something to herself but all she’d done is walk right into this.

Into this with no help and no wand and-

She did have one thing.

Fuck it.

She had legs, legs she could use and she had cake. Wonderful, customised cake which was tucked in a box, in her bag, in her arms. There wasn’t time to debate so she didn’t, she sucked in a deep breath and as she did she twisted her grip into the top of her back and lifted it up over her shoulder. Her stance shifted, her arm drew back, and with as much strength as she could muster she launched the bag ahead of her. It gave her the element of surprise, even with so little of his face on show she could see the confusion twist onto the expression of the one who blocked her path, and even if he hadn’t reacted at all her legs sprung into action faster than she could think to tell them to. She couldn’t even feel them but it didn’t matter, there was space both in front of and behind her, she was counting on the idea that the newcomer behind her wouldn’t make up the space in time and the bastard who blocked her path would be distracted. And he was, she could see the instinct kicking in even if he didn’t want it to, her bag launched towards him and he automatically threw his hands up to catch it before it could smash into him- which was good. It was what she needed, only a few seconds, all she needed was his hands to be occupied for just the few seconds she was sprinting past him. And then she didn’t know, Tami had no idea if she could outrun them but she sure as hell needed a head start, she could deal with doubts much easier than impossibilities. The bag hit him before she even got close, of course, smashed into his chest and he grabbed it with both arms, the snarl he made a clear indication that he was not happy with her tactic. She honestly didn’t care, footsteps crunched behind her and even though the bag had already hit she didn’t stop, in fact as she passed she slammed right into the stranger’s side so he stumbled, and cursed, and she couldn’t help the small burst of pride in her chest because she’d disgruntled their plan.

It was short-lived.

She’d never been grabbed by the hair before but the pain was immediate. It shot through her nerves with a sharp stab, the back of her head throbbing where the grip held and pulled her head back in a burning whiplash. Perhaps she should’ve kept running, ripped her hair out if she needed to, but for half a second the pain was enough to stop her short and in that half a second an arm twisted around her front and pulled. Tami had always been short and her toes barely scraped the floor as she was yanked back, she knew because she kicked her legs in an attempt to find some ground, to find some grip, to claw her way back. She found nothing, her fingers clawed at the arm about her front but it was helpless, her legs kicked and even though she felt her heels hit behind her it did nothing. She filled her air with lungs, it was dawning on her quickly that she was very physically outnumbered, instead ready to scream for as loud and long as she could but the sound was suffocated before she even had the chance to make it. Gloved fingers pressed down on her tongue when a hand covered her mouth, she tried to suck in a breath but choked instead, wheezing and turning her attention from the arm holding her up to the hand stopping her from crying out. They’d done this before. They knew how to keep someone quiet, they knew how to drag someone away, they knew how to hide someone until the moment was right and then she’d end up another body, stumbled upon when it was far too late. Panic was a horrible thing, it twisted so deep in her gut she wanted to throw up, made her thoughts scream so loud that she couldn’t think. And that was bad. She was flailing and, more importantly, she was failing.

She didn’t want to die like this.

Her legs were useless, her clawing fingers weren’t getting her anywhere, but the bastard had his gross fingers in her mouth and if she couldn’t bark then she could sure as hell bite. Tami was in no position to go easy on anyone, she steeled herself against the inevitable twang of uncertainty when it came to hurting someone else, and she bit down hard.

“Fucking little bitch.”

And he dropped her. He stumbled as he cursed, he went back a step and as he did he lifted her off the floor completely, the arm around her front pulled tighter sharply, pain shot along her spine and then she was on the floor.  He’d dropped her and she wanted to scream, wanted her legs to work, her body to move, but her legs had no feeling and she couldn’t breathe. The air had been knocked straight out of her.

“You idiot, you always make things more complicated.”

She needed to move. Needed her legs to work.

“Immobulus.”

Crap.

Even if she wanted to move she couldn’t, the fight was there but the ability was gone, time had stopped where she knelt and this wasn’t something she could just shake off. Had she had her wand, had she come prepared, then maybe she could’ve handled all of this better or at least got far enough away to get help but she’d been foolish.

“See, isn’t it easier when we all cooperate?”

She couldn’t answer even if she wanted to, she wasn’t given time, a hand covered her eyes and no sooner had her vision been covered did a mutter of a charm pull her from consciousness.

Stupid, predictable, terrible birthdays.

[thefortyeightlawsofpower-blog]

LAW # 25 : RE-CREATE YOURSELF

JUDGEMENT

Do not accept the roles that society foists on you. Re-create yourself by forging a new identity, one that commands attention and never bores the audience. Be the master of your own image rather than letting others define it for you. Incorporate dramatic devices into your public gestures and actions—your power will be enhanced and your character will seem larger than life.

OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW I

Julius Caesar made his first significant mark on Roman society in 65 B.C., when he assumed the post of aedile, the official in charge of grain distribution and public games. He began his entrance into the public eye by organizing a series of carefully crafted and well-timed spectacles—wild-beast hunts, extravagant gladiator shows, theatrical contests. On several occasions, he paid for these spectacles out of his own pocket. To the common man, Julius Caesar became indelibly associated with these much-loved events. As he slowly rose to attain the position of consul, his popularity among the masses served as the foundation of his power. He had created an image of himself as a great public showman.

The man who intends to make his fortune in this ancient capital of the world [Rome] must be a chameleon susceptible of reflecting the colors of the atmosphere that surrounds him—a Proteus apt to assume every form, every shape. He must be supple, flexible, insinuating, close, inscrutable, often base, sometimes sincere, sometimes perfidious, always concealing a part of his knowledge, indulging in but one tone of voice, patient, a perfect master of his own countenance, as cold as ice when any other man would be all fire; and if unfortunately he is not religious at heart—a very common occurrence for a soul possessing the above requisites-he must have religion in his mind, that is to say, on his face, on his lips, in his manners; he must suffer quietly, if he be an honest man, the necessity of knowing himself an arrant hypocrite. The man whose soul would loathe such a life should leave Rome and seek his fortune elsewhere. I do not know whether I am praising or excusing myself, but of all those qualities I possessed but one—namely, flexibility.

MEMOIRS, GIOVANNI CASANOVA, 1725-1798

In 49 B.C., Rome was on the brink of a civil war between rival leaders, Caesar and Pompey. At the height of the tension, Caesar, an addict of the stage, attended a theatrical performance, and afterward, lost in thought, he wandered in the darkness back to his camp at the Rubicon, the river that divides Italy from Gaul, where he had been campaigning. To march his army back into Italy across the Rubicon would mean the beginning of a war with Pompey.

Before his staff Caesar argued both sides, forming the options like an actor on stage, a precursor of Hamlet. Finally, to put his soliloquy to an end, he pointed to a seemingly innocent apparition at the edge of the river—a very tall soldier blasting a call on a trumpet, then going across a bridge over the Rubicon—and pronounced, “Let us accept this as a sign from the Gods and follow where they beckon, in vengeance on our double-dealing enemies. The die is cast.” All of this he spoke portentously and dramatically, gesturing toward the river and looking his generals in the eye. He knew that these generals were uncertain in their support, but his oratory overwhelmed them with a sense of the drama of the moment, and of the need to seize the time. A more prosaic speech would never have had the same effect. The generals rallied to his cause; Caesar and his army crossed the Rubicon and by the following year had vanquished Pompey, making Caesar dictator of Rome.

In warfare, Caesar always played the leading man with gusto. He was as skilled a horseman as any of his soldiers, and took pride in outdoing them in feats of bravery and endurance. He entered battle astride the strongest mount, so that his soldiers would see him in the thick of battle, urging them on, always positioning himself in the center, a godlike symbol of power and a model for them to follow. Of all the armies in Rome, Caesar’s was the most devoted and loyal. His soldiers, like the common people who had attended his entertainments, had come to identify with him and with his cause.

After the defeat of Pompey, the entertainments grew in scale. Nothing like them had ever been seen in Rome. The chariot races became more spectacular, the gladiator fights more dramatic, as Caesar staged fights to the death among the Roman nobility. He organized enormous mock naval battles on an artificial lake. Plays were performed in every Roman ward. A giant new theater was built that sloped dramatically down the Tarpeian Rock. Crowds from all over the empire flocked to these events, the roads to Rome lined with visitors’ tents. And in 45 B.C., timing his entry into the city for maximum effect and surprise, Caesar brought Cleopatra back to Rome after his Egyptian campaign, and staged even more extravagant public spectacles.

These events were more than devices to divert the masses; they dramatically enhanced the public’s sense of Caesar’s character, and made him seem larger than life. Caesar was the master of his public image, of which he was forever aware. When he appeared before crowds he wore the most spectacular purple robes. He would be upstaged by no one. He was notoriously vain about his appearance—it was said that one reason he enjoyed being honored by the Senate and people was that on these occasions he could wear a laurel wreath, hiding his baldness. Caesar was a masterful orator. He knew how to say a lot by saying a little, intuited the moment to end a speech for maximum effect. He never failed to incorporate a surprise into his public appearances—a startling announcement that would heighten their drama.

Immensely popular among the Roman people, Caesar was hated and feared by his rivals. On the ides of March—March 15—in the year 44 B.C., a group of conspirators led by Brutus and Cassius surrounded him in the senate and stabbed him to death. Even dying, however, he kept his sense of drama. Drawing the top of his gown over his face, he let go of the cloth’s lower part so that it draped his legs, allowing him to die covered and decent. According to the Roman historian Suetonius, his final words to his old friend Brutus, who was about to deliver a second blow, were in Greek, and as if rehearsed for the end of a play: “You too, my child?”

Interpretation

The Roman theater was an event for the masses, attended by crowds unimaginable today. Packed into enormous auditoriums, the audience would be amused by raucous comedy or moved by high tragedy. Theater seemed to contain the essence of life, in its concentrated, dramatic form. Like a religious ritual, it had a powerful, instant appeal to the common man.

Julius Caesar was perhaps the first public figure to understand the vital link between power and theater. This was because of his own obsessive interest in drama. He sublimated this interest by making himself an actor and director on the world stage. He said his lines as if they had been scripted; he gestured and moved through a crowd with a constant sense of how he appeared to his audience. He incorporated surprise into his repertoire, building drama into his speeches, staging into his public appearances. His gestures were broad enough for the common man to grasp them instantly. He became immensely popular.

Caesar set the ideal for all leaders and people of power. Like him, you must learn to enlarge your actions through dramatic techniques such as surprise, suspense, the creation of sympathy, and symbolic identification. Also like him, you must be constantly aware of your audience—of what will please them and what will bore them. You must arrange to place yourself at the center, to command attention, and never to be upstaged at any cost.

OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW II

In the year 1831, a young woman named Aurore Dupin Dudevant left her husband and family in the provinces and moved to Paris. She wanted to be a writer; marriage, she felt, was worse than prison, for it left her neither the time nor the freedom to pursue her passion. In Paris she would establish her independence and make her living by writing.

Soon after Dudevant arrived in the capital, however, she had to confront certain harsh realities. To have any degree of freedom in Paris you had to have money. For a woman, money could only come through marriage or prostitution. No woman had ever come close to making a living by writing. Women wrote as a hobby, supported by their husbands, or by an inheritance. In fact when Dudevant first showed her writing to an editor, he told her, “You should make babies, Madame, not literature.”

Clearly Dudevant had come to Paris to attempt the impossible. In the end, though, she came up with a strategy to do what no woman had ever done—a strategy to re-create herself completely, forging a public image of her own making. Women writers before her had been forced into a ready-made role, that of the second-rate artist who wrote mostly for other women. Dudevant decided that if she had to play a role, she would turn the game around: She would play the part of a man.

In 1832 a publisher accepted Dudevant’s first major novel, Indiana. She had chosen to publish it under a pseudonym, “George Sand,” and all of Paris assumed this impressive new writer was male. Dudevant had sometimes worn men’s clothes before creating “George Sand” (she had always found men’s shirts and riding breeches more comfortable); now, as a public figure, she exaggerated the image. She added long men’s coats, gray hats, heavy boots, and dandyish cravats to her wardrobe. She smoked cigars and in conversation expressed herself like a man, unafraid to dominate the conversation or to use a saucy word.

This strange “male/female” writer fascinated the public. And unlike other women writers, Sand found herself accepted into the clique of male artists. She drank and smoked with them, even carried on affairs with the most famous artists of Europe—Musset, Liszt, Chopin. It was she who did the wooing, and also the abandoning—she moved on at her discretion.

Those who knew Sand well understood that her male persona protected her from the public’s prying eyes. Out in the world, she enjoyed playing the part to the extreme; in private she remained herself. She also realized that the character of “George Sand” could grow stale or predictable, and to avoid this she would every now and then dramatically alter the character she had created; instead of conducting affairs with famous men, she would begin meddling in politics, leading demonstrations, inspiring student rebellions. No one would dictate to her the limits of the character she had created. Long after she died, and after most people had stopped reading her novels, the larger-than-life theatricality of that character has continued to fascinate and inspire.

Interpretation

Throughout Sand’s public life, acquaintances and other artists who spent time in her company had the feeling they were in the presence of a man. But in her journals and to her closest friends, such as Gustave Flaubert, she confessed that she had no desire to be a man, but was playing a part for public consumption. What she really wanted was the power to determine her own character. She refused the limits her society would have set on her. She did not attain her power, however, by being herself; instead she created a persona that she could constantly adapt to her own desires, a persona that attracted attention and gave her presence.

Understand this: The world wants to assign you a role in life. And once you accept that role you are doomed. Your power is limited to the tiny amount allotted to the role you have selected or have been forced to assume. An actor, on the other hand, plays many roles. Enjoy that protean power, and if it is beyond you, at least forge a new identity, one of your own making, one that has had no boundaries assigned to it by an envious and resentful world. This act of defiance is Promethean: It makes you responsible for your own creation.

Your new identity will protect you from the world precisely because it is not “you”; it is a costume you put on and take off. You need not take it personally. And your new identity sets you apart, gives you theatrical presence. Those in the back rows can see you and hear you. Those in the front rows marvel at your audacity.

Do not people talk in society of a man being a great actor? They do not mean by  that that he feels, but that he excels in simulating, though he feels nothing.

Denis Diderot, 1713-1784

KEYS TO POWER

The character you seem to have been born with is not necessarily who you are; beyond the characteristics you have inherited, your parents, your friends, and your peers have helped to shape your personality. The Promethean task of the powerful is to take control of the process, to stop allowing others that ability to limit and mold them. Remake yourself into a character of power. Working on yourself like clay should be one of your greatest and most pleasurable life tasks. It makes you in essence an artist—an artist creating yourself.

In fact, the idea of self-creation comes from the world of art. For thousands of years, only kings and the highest courtiers had the freedom to shape their public image and determine their own identity. Similarly, only kings and the wealthiest lords could contemplate their own image in art, and consciously alter it. The rest of mankind played the limited role that society demanded of them, and had little self-consciousness.

A shift in this condition can be detected in Velázquez’s painting Las Meninas, made in 1656. The artist appears at the left of the canvas, standing before a painting that he is in the process of creating, but that has its back to us—we cannot see it. Beside him stands a princess, her attendants, and one of the court dwarves, all watching him work. The people posing for the painting are not directly visible, but we can see them in tiny reflections in a mirror on the back wall—the king and queen of Spain, who must be sitting somewhere in the foreground, outside the picture.

The painting represents a dramatic change in the dynamics of power and the ability to determine one’s own position in society. For Velázquez, the artist, is far more prominently positioned than the king and queen. In a sense he is more powerful than they are, since he is clearly the one controlling the image—their image. Velázquez no longer saw himself as the slavish, dependent artist. He had remade himself into a man of power. And indeed the first people other than aristocrats to play openly with their image in Western society were artists and writers, and later on dandies and bohemians. Today the concept of self-creation has slowly filtered down to the rest of society, and has become an ideal to aspire to. Like Velazquez, you must demand for yourself the power to determine your position in the painting, and to create your own image.

The first step in the process of self-creation is self-consciousness—being aware of yourself as an actor and taking control of your appearance and emotions. As Diderot said, the bad actor is the one who is always sincere. People who wear their hearts on their sleeves out in society are tiresome and embarrassing. Their sincerity notwithstanding, it is hard to take them seriously. Those who cry in public may temporarily elicit sympathy, but sympathy soon turns to scorn and irritation at their self obsessiveness—they are crying to get attention, we feel, and a malicious part of us wants to deny them the satisfaction.

Good actors control themselves better. They can play sincere and heartfelt, can affect a tear and a compassionate look at will, but they don’t have to feel it. They externalize emotion in a form that others can understand. Method acting is fatal in the real world. No ruler or leader could possibly play the part if all of the emotions he showed had to be real. So learn self-control. Adopt the plasticity of the actor, who can mold his or her face to the emotion required.

The second step in the process of self-creation is a variation on the George Sand strategy: the creation of a memorable character, one that compels attention, that stands out above the other players on the stage. This was the game Abraham Lincoln played. The homespun, common country man, he knew, was a kind of president that America had never had but would delight in electing. Although many of these qualities came naturally to him, he played them up—the hat and clothes, the beard. (No president before him had worn a beard.) Lincoln was also the first president to use photographs to spread his image, helping to create the icon of the “homespun president.”

Good drama, however, needs more than an interesting appearance, or a single stand-out moment. Drama takes place over time—it is an unfolding event. Rhythm and timing are critical. One of the most important elements in the rhythm of drama is suspense. Houdini for instance, could sometimes complete his escape acts in seconds—but he drew them out to minutes, to make the audience sweat.

The key to keeping the audience on the edge of their seats is letting events unfold slowly, then speeding them up at the right moment, according to a pattern and tempo that you control. Great rulers from Napoleon to Mao Tse-tung have used theatrical timing to surprise and divert their public. Franklin Delano Roosevelt understood the importance of staging political events in a particular order and rhythm.

At the time of his 1932 presidential election, the United States was in the midst of a dire economic crisis. Banks were failing at an alarming rate. Shortly after winning the election, Roosevelt went into a kind of retreat. He said nothing about his plans or his cabinet appointments. He even refused to meet the sitting president, Herbert Hoover, to discuss the transition. By the time of Roosevelt’s inauguration the country was in a state of high anxiety.

In his inaugural address, Roosevelt shifted gears. He made a powerful speech, making it clear that he intended to lead the country in a completely new direction, sweeping away the timid gestures of his predecessors. From then on the pace of his speeches and public decisions—cabinet appointments, bold legislation—unfolded at an incredibly rapid rate. The period after the inauguration became known as the “Hundred Days,” and its success in altering the country’s mood partly stemmed from Roosevelt’s clever pacing and use of dramatic contrast. He held his audience in suspense, then hit them with a series of bold gestures that seemed all the more momentous because they came from nowhere. You must learn to orchestrate events in a similar manner, never revealing all your cards at once, but unfolding them in a way that heightens their dramatic effect.

Besides covering a multitude of sins, good drama can also confuse and deceive your enemy. During World War II, the German playwright Bertolt Brecht worked in Hollywood as a screenwriter. After the war he was called before the House Committee on Un-American Activities for his supposed Communist sympathies. Other writers who had been called to testify planned to humiliate the committee members with an angry emotional stand. Brecht was wiser: He would play the committee like a violin, charming them while fooling them as well. He carefully rehearsed his responses, and brought along some props, notably a cigar on which he puffed away, knowing the head of the committee liked cigars. And indeed he proceeded to beguile the committee with well-crafted responses that were ambiguous, funny, and double-edged. Instead of an angry, heartfelt tirade, he ran circles around them with a staged production, and they let him off scot-free.

Other dramatic effects for your repertoire include the beau geste, an action at a climactic moment that symbolizes your triumph or your boldness. Caesar’s dramatic crossing of the Rubicon was a beau geste—a move that dazzled the soldiers and gave him heroic proportions. You must also appreciate the importance of stage entrances and exits. When Cleopatra first met Caesar in Egypt, she arrived rolled up in a carpet, which she arranged to have unfurled at his feet. George Washington twice left power with flourish and fanfare (first as a general, then as a president who refused to sit for a third term), showing he knew how to make the moment count, dramatically and symbolically. Your own entrances and exits should be crafted and planned as carefully.

Remember that overacting can be counterproductive—it is another way of spending too much effort trying to attract attention. The actor Richard Burton discovered early in his career that by standing totally still onstage, he drew attention to himself and away from the other actors. It is less what you do that matters, clearly, than how you do it—your gracefulness and imposing stillness on the social stage count for more than overdoing your part and moving around too much.

Finally: Learn to play many roles, to be whatever the moment requires. Adapt your mask to the situation—be protean in the faces you wear. Bismarck played this game to perfection: To a liberal he was a liberal, to a hawk he was a hawk. He could not be grasped, and what cannot be grasped cannot be consumed.

Image: The Greek Sea-God Proteus. His power came from his ability to change shape at will, to be whatever the moment required. When Menelaus, brother of Agamemnon, tried to seize him, Proteus transformed himself into a lion, then a serpent, a panther, a boar, running water, and finally a leafy tree.

Authority: Know how to be all things to all men. A discreet Proteus—a scholar among scholars, a saint among saints. That is the art of winning over everyone, for like attracts like. Take note of temperaments and adapt yourself to that of each person you meet—follow the lead of the serious and jovial in turn, changing your mood discreetly. (Baltasar Gracián, 1601-1658)

REVERSAL

There can really be no reversal to this critical law: Bad theater is bad theater. Even appearing natural requires art—in other words, acting. Bad acting only creates embarrassment. Of course you should not be too dramatic—avoid the histrionic gesture. But that is simply bad theater anyway, since it violates centuries-old dramatic laws against overacting. In essence there is no reversal to this law.