#I can’t do my homework right I can’t understand Latin right I refuse to read what I need to for class

[quibbs126]

*sigh* I don’t know. I don’t even really know why I’m posting this in the first place, I don’t really like it

I’d say what it is, but you can read what’s on the tin. I thought it’d be cool if I drew that g2 Optimus design, because I think it’s cool looking and Optimus might look good in black and red, and with pink eyes

This was my reference by the way

But no, I couldn’t figure out how to make him look right. I thought maybe I could try sketching him in another style, but no, that didn’t work either. But I finished the sketch and thought it looked halfway decent, but when I went to do lineart I realized it wasn’t. But halfway through lineart I just gave up and slapped it together, slapped some colors on him, wrote some stuff on the page, I guess to fill up the black spaces I know I wasn’t gonna fill with actual drawing, and now we’re here

It’s the fucking arms I tell you. I still don’t know how they’re supposed to work, and I don’t know how to pose them either. So they look like shit. But I can’t just not have them, so they have to be there

And I don’t really know what’s happening on the shoulders either, particularly the wheels. I know I made them too small but I don’t know how to make them look how they do on the toy either

I considered trying a more stylized art style since the 3D was fucking with me, but my brain couldn’t figure out how to do that either, so I’m stuck doing the same thing over and over again, drawing in circles and wondering why I’m not getting anywhere, while simultaneously being unable to figure out what I’m doing wrong

So now we’re here. It looks bad. The shoulder pentagons are too small. The face is too tall. The colors on the face are all wrong. The arm is all off anatomy wise. I forgot to color in the black on the back despite going in and adding lines for them. The grill’s off. The chest doors don’t look like doors the open up, they look stuck to the rest of him. He barely looks 3D because I’m bad at doing this

But I got far enough, and I knew that even I start over on a new canvas, I wouldn’t want to delete it by this point, so I might as well finish it instead of having it taunt me every time I see it. So here we are, as I’ve said multiple times

I really wish I was better at drawing Transformers. I should be at this rate, it’s been a couple months. But no, I don’t know how to improve and I keep staying with the same mediocre art, because I don’t seem to like trying. I do try, but it’s not improvement, it’s just me making the same mistakes over and over again. Like with arms and the joints

Why can’t I get better? Am I just not trying? I don’t know how to try better

I have thoughts I want to share with people because I think they’re neat, and I know any thoughts I do have will only gain traction and be seen if there’s art attached, at least here on tumblr, and because I am an artist, I have to try and draw them. Especially because I’m anti-social and a cheapskate, so I can’t ask someone I know who can draw Transformers good and I won’t commission anyone for it either. I’ll only get what I want if I do it. But I’m bad at doing it

So it’s either write it out and see some people like it, but it’ll only be for the next couple days before it gets forgotten and I too forget about it, and it’ll never do as good as if I did draw it, or draw it but not as good as it needs to be, so people won’t really care about it anyways. Because my flat drawings aren’t really good anyways, just mediocre, and I write too much on my drawings and go on tangents, meaning people probably aren’t gonna reblog it with their own thoughts on anything I said either

But this is just me being greedy anyways. No one’s entitled to give me their opinions, especially when I know my thoughts are stupid anyways. I don’t really know anything about Transformers, not like other people do, I’m just some casual person who just got here and should just go back to Cookie Run at this rate, but is stupid and keeps thinking that maybe she’ll get good at this and have opinions people actually care about

And don’t go on here telling me that I shouldn’t put so much emphasis on what other people think, so long as it makes me happy. It doesn’t work like that with me. Drawing the thing’s only half the fun for me, and sometimes that varies. The real fun comes from telling people about the thing I made, and the ideas I made for it, especially when they tell me what they think of it. If I draw something and nobody sees it, and I don’t tell anyone about it, what was the point of me drawing it? Even if I enjoyed it, heck when I do, I’m even more motivated to show it to people, because I’m proud of it, or that pride comes later when I see people really do like it. These things are intrinsically tied together for me, I can’t separate them

What’s even the point of all this? I’m just complaining at this rate about basically nothing, at least nothing to do with what I drew. But I don’t like what I drew. But I made it so I have to show it, at least to get a semblance of what I was going for out there. I’d like to think maybe if it did, someone better could get what I’m going for and do it better, and I can see it better, but no one ever does. I’m not good enough for that. Maybe some people did, but not anymore, I’ve grown too big for my britches. And also we’re not in the same fandoms anymore

And I write all this, but it feels almost performative. Like I’m putting on an act of frustration and disappointment and anger and whatever other emotions I can’t quantify right now. Because this’ll still be on the post. I’m still gonna post this. I’m still gonna diligently put my tags in it like any other post. Like I’m doing this for show. I’m not, but I’m making a deal of it publicly online, aren’t I? So I must be doing this for attention

*sigh* Well I suppose it’s my own fault

I’ll probably try to attempt this again some day, maybe even later today or tomorrow (actually probably not, I work tomorrow), because I never got out what I wanted, but I can’t figure it out right now and I’m too lazy to make it any better. So take this not very good quality art that I really shouldn’t even be posting, but hey, it’s content, isn’t it?

[evis-gossip]

Grenades. Atomic Bombs.

Couple: Todd Anderson x fem!reader

Key words: Y/N your name · y/e/c your eye color

Warning: kissing (if you see anything I slipped, please let me know), not proofread

Summary: A walk through the beginning of a first love

Category: tooth rooting fluff

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: This work was my first ever, so please be gentle, although I would love to see what you think. This was a first part to this. Byee<333

Masterlist

______________________________

Y/N. Y/N was her name. Back then I had only heard it because Mr Keating asked it during the first class. Y/F/N Y/L/N. It was a beautiful name, the most beautiful I’ve ever heard in fact, and it made my brain mush coming from her angelic voice. Y/N. She was beautiful. She had a beautiful smile that took my breath away every time I saw it, a pair of y/e/c orbs that pierced through my soul like knives to my chest. She had y/h/c hair that framed her face so perfectly and she was just tall enough to fit amazingly in my arms, about which I daydreamed quite often. 

Y/N was in most of my classes. That’s how I learned the things I’ll never forget. Like how she was the one that responded to Mr. Keating when he asked who knew where O Captain, My Captain! came from, because she was the only one who knew. Of course the first girl to attend Welton had to be this smart, even though later on I found out it was more of a disciplinary action. When Neil insisted on me going to the cave the first time, I refused at first. 

“You know Y/N is going right? I’ve noticed the way you look at her so I told Charlie to invite her” Neil whispered sitting next to me in the common room. I glanced at her, just a few tables over focusing on her Math homework “The others have no problem with it, but unless you want Charlie to be the one flirting with her I highly suggest you come along” he winked

“But, Neil, what if I mess up and say something dumb? I can’t do that” I whispered back shaking my head

“Well, if you say something dumb at least you’ll make her laugh. Come on Todd, you can’t waste your life away in fear” he insisted. I suppose he was right, but I was so awkward i I couldn’t bring myself to even talk to her directly 

“I tell you something. I’ll stop you before you can get the chance to embarrass yourself” he offered 

“Okay” I sighed as I turned my head to the book

And that is how I found myself sitting next to her, our knees barely touching, my face blushing intensely. She talked vividly and read a few poems. She said she’d like to bring her favorite poetry book, but it’s in Spanish, “La realidad y el deseo” (“Reality and Desire”) by Luis Cernuda. And that is how I got to find out that she was a second generation immigrant from Spain. She can read, speak and write in Spanish just like in English. Every little detail I had the pleasure to find out about her was all the more fascinating. She could speak French and German, but not as well. She was a master in Latin and classic Greek. She knew every other Greek myth and she studied Arthurian romance just for fun. She was a genius, like Meeks. She was funny like no one else, she always had a way to cheer everybody up. She sat with us at lunch. She would always  complain about the food missing something, she always knew just what it needed.

“How do you do that?” Charlie asked her one of these times

“Do what?”

“Always knowing what the food needs, are you also a professional chef or something?”

“Oh, well… my mom cooks really well and as a daughter I’m expected to learn from her all sorts of things about cooking and cleaning whether I want to or not. She always said, and I quote, “A good wife must know everything there is to know about the kitchen”. Sometimes I hate her.” she said simply shrugging

“That’s sad. I guess it must be hard to be women when everyone is constantly telling you what to do and how to be” Neil said with an understanding look

“Well, it’s what got me here in the first place” she said excitedly. Up to this point I had been solely looking at my food avoiding here eyes, I couldn’t help but look out when she started talking about this topic “I was pissed at being put down and dismissed if I wanted to do something related to typically masculine roles, like going to a real college! So I started a riot. I convinced a bunch of girls in my area to stand up  against what’s wrong and to fight for what they believed in. It became a problem when my parents started receiving complaints from other parents saying I corrupted their daughters. And soon, I became a problem” needless to say I was astounded. Here I was, barely able to speak up when I was uncomfortable while she was starting riots for her rights.

Y/N was in my room. That was the day Neil told me to better study Spanish some more “cause you’re falling behind” he said. And that same day, there she was, leaning on my door, looking around my room like she was discovering a brand new world, with her gentle smile that never failed to warm my heart. She looked at me directly and for the first time I looked at her without fear or shame. She gazed past my skin and right through me. I was so sure I was blushing like hell but she simply chuckled. 

“Neil said you needed help with Spanish cause you’re falling behind or something like that” Neil and I are going to have some words, but for now, god bless him

“Yeah, yeah, I, um” I started gathering the papers around my bed while she walked slowly towards me. She seemed as if she was approaching a stray cat to pet it. I kinda wished she would have run her fingers through my hair, as if I was the cat. “So, I- I don’t q- quite understand the whole c- conjugation and verbs thing”

“Oh, it is difficult, don’t worry” she sat on my bed next to me, our shoulders touching, almost making my hands shake “so, we have three groups, and every verb is part of one of those groups depending on how they end in infinitive, which is the base form. First group are verbs ending in -ar, like cantar…” she kept explaining, but soon enough I was completely distracted by the way her eyes would shine while explaining and how beautifully her hands would sway and wave to express what words couldn’t. Somehow through the tangled web of thoughts about her the information had stuck to my brain forever. Suddenly, I was an expert in Spanish conjugation. “See, all that’s left for you to do is practice” she chuckled 

“I will get on that-“

“What’s this?” she interrupted innocently pointing to my poor attempt of poetry 

“It’s- it’s nothing r- really, I’m- I- just. I- It’s not that- It’s really nothing i- important”

“It is something, I’m sure of it, Todd. You just gotta believe in yourself” and as she put her head on my shoulder we fell in a comfortable silence. I leaned my head on top of her, the soft smell of her floral shampoo flooding my senses. This was so far the longest we had spoken one on one, the first time we were alone together, and for the first time in my life I felt truly happy, content, like breathing after being submerged underwater. There was no way in heaven someone like her would have noticed someone like me. Y/N was just too perfect to notice me. Suddenly, the loss of contact with her head broke the moment. She smiled warmly as she lifted her hand to brush a few strands of hair out of my face. It felt like electricity wherever she touched ever so lightly 

“You know, Todd, you have beautiful eyes. And they’d look so much greater if you stopped continuously looking at the floor” she said calmly, like complimenting my eyes was the most normal thing in the world, like she couldn’t feel my skin burning under her fingertips now running across my cheeks

“They’re not that-“ I interrupted myself when in the middle of an act of bravery I looked straight into her eyes just to realize that I had fallen in love with her. That I had broken the very same promise I made myself before starting Welton, I swore I wouldn’t fall in love, but here I was madly and completely forever hers. 

And when I thought I couldn’t be more happy, I got to live the exact same thing I deemed impossible. She switched her hand to the other side of my face and cupped my jaw as she leaned in slowly and kissed my cheek. I felt like I was about to cry when she spoke again “I kinda like you, Todd. I- I don’t know you that much, but I would like to” as she finished speaking I felt my soul leaving my body. I couldn’t think straight, my heartbeat was too loud in my ribs to let me focus on my words 

“Can you kiss me?” I asked to which she chuckled, of course I had to go and ruin it. But contrary to my expectations, she cupped my face with her tiny hands and pulled me closer. I closed my eyes and before I could even brace my arms around her, she pressed her soft lips against mine. All those butterflies I had been feeling up until that moment became fireworks. Grenades. Atomic bombs going off in my stomach. I had died, gone to heaven and come back just when she slid her hands across my neck to run her fingers through my hair. Gods, angels and divine beings couldn’t compare to her. Our lips moved in sync, devouring each other with passion. All my thoughts were blurred out as her body was pressed against mine. I don’t know how much time we remained like this, but it felt like a whole eternity, at the same time just a second, and not enough before we pulled away in need of oxygen. She kept our foreheads pressed against each other, and even with my eyes closed I could feel her smiling. I only opened my eyes when I felt the warmth of her skin leaving mine. I was still wrapped around her, and within the safeness of her embrace I allowed myself to show a full smile.

“We should have a date” she proposed 

“Yeah, we should”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, so, tomorrow 6 pm?” I nodded to her suggestions. Much to my dismay she got up, away from me “I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow” no, I wanted her to stay, stay with me forever. She leaned in and kissed my cheek before leaving my room. So, there I was, alone in my room, laying back in my bed, wondering what did I do to deserve something so perfect like what had just happened.

[lynelovespopculture]

THE CHILLING ADVENTURES OF ZELDA-CHAPTER 18-THE BREAKING POINT AS THE MORTALS AROUND THEM GROW MORE OBSESSED WITH WITCHES, THE SPELLMANS START TO FEEL THE PRESSURE.

After the announcement of the play, the rest of the day was pretty much shot. After school, Faustus had more work to do so Cordelia took the bus home.  She sighed as she opened and closed the front door. “I said no.” Zelda’s voice came from the kitchen. “Mom, you are never going to believe this,” Cordelia muttered as she dropped her backpack onto a chair, entered the kitchen, and froze. For Zelda was not alone. “Look, Lilith,” Zelda said through gritted teeth. “You came here to ask me a question and I have answered you. I said no and it’s staying no!” “But I need you!” Lilith insisted. “We both know that you’re the best of the best. Besides, as the queen of hell, I can simply command you.” “Oh no, you can’t!” Zelda held her ground. “In fact, as I recall the last time I asked for your help, you told me that since I was not a part of hell’s court and was no longer a member of the church of night or the church of Lilith, that I was an outsider and you were under no obligation to help me.” Lilith knew she was losing her case but she continued pleading regardless. “It won’t be like last time. I promise! Lucifer is still inside that council member, still very much locked up. The minion and I check on him often. I swear it won’t be like last time.” “I know it won’t,” Zelda agreed “because this time I’m not getting myself or my family involved.” Meanwhile, Cordelia stood silently in the corner, confused over this exchange. Lucifer? Queen of hell? What the heaven did this all mean?  Cordelia was pretty sure she knew the woman who was fighting with her mother but didn’t know from where. “Please Zelda,” Lilith continued.  “Adam was just so sweet when I told him 3 weeks ago.  He insisted we return to the surface and get married at the courthouse that very day. Nothing like when Zander was born.” That was it! Cordelia suddenly remembered that this Lilith was the happy bride she saw when she and Faustus were driving past city hall on that 1st day of school. “Cordelia!” Lilith purred, bring the child back to the here and now by sliding a hand under her chin and studying her.  “What a lovely young lady you’ve become.” “Thank you,” Cordelia said, unsure.  “Um, have we met?” “Only briefly, a long time ago. But I hope we’ll get to know each other better in the future. Since you and my son are- “ “Lilith! If you say 1 more word, you’ll be returning to hell in a body cast!” Zelda threatened. Cordelia looked on as Lilith coolly shrugged and then walked out the front door before she turned back to her mother. “Who was that, Mom?” “No one you need to concern yourself with. Now, please go fetch your brother and Ambrose. Supper is almost ready.” Cordelia knew her mother’s tone and knew even she asked again, she wouldn’t get any real answers so she turned on her heel and went to get the boys.

Faustus didn’t remember the last time he was this tired. After closing the door, he rested against it for a moment, before tossing his car keys onto a nearby side table.  The house was quiet and dark, which was no surprise considering how late it was. Faustus yawned deeply as he made his way upstairs. On the second floor, the only light led him to his room, where Zelda was sitting up in bed, paperwork all around her. He came forward and kissed Zelda’s welcoming smile. “Hello, my beautiful reason for existing.” Zelda’s smile only grew bigger as she kissed her husband back. “I was expecting you late tonight once Cordy told me about the play.” “Ah, so you’re all caught up?” “Unfortunately, yes.” Faustus gave a little nod, then took off his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt, as he crossed to the room to the chest of drawers that held his night clothes.   “I’m sorry I didn’t call, my love, but it’s hard to make a phone call in the middle of an argument.” “And who were you arguing with?” “Principal Hopper,” Faustus sighed. “I spent 4 and a half hours trying to convince him to put on a different play, any other play! I tried any excuse I could come up with. All in vain, the play will go on as planned. The only good news is that they can’t force Cordy to perform in the play, but since this is a grade 7-8 production, she’ll have to  work backstage somehow.” Faustus explained to his wife on his way to the bathroom. “I had an interesting day too,” Zelda called out as she collected her paperwork off the bed. “Oh?” “You will never believe who came to see me today-Lilith.” Zelda couldn’t help but smile as her shocked husband appeared in the doorway.  His mouth foaming with toothpaste, the brush just dangling.   After he went back and rinsed, Faustus returned to the bedroom. “Lilith, eh?  Haven’t heard that name in this house in a couple of years.” “I had hoped to keep it that way,” Zelda muttered. “So, how is the queen of hell?” “Newly pregnant by her mortal husband, Adam. She asked me to serve as her mid-wife.” Faustus lifted an eyebrow. “What? Again? After what she put this family through last time, I’m surprised she even had the nerve to ask.” “Thank you!” Zelda exclaimed.  “That’s exactly what I said! But she wouldn’t take no for an answer and even after I refused her, she followed me home from the academy and I couldn’t make her leave until after Cordelia came home from school. She even hinted at the odd marriage pact again.” “Don’t worry, dearest. Even if Lilith did keep that damn contract, with no signature, it’s not valid.” Zelda smiled. “It seems you have given this matter some thought.” Faustus shut off his bedside lamp and got into bed. “I’ll admit that I might have brought the case up to Daniel Webster once or twice. Besides, if Lilith is hurting for female company, I know a nosy, moral bitch she can have right now.” Zelda chuckled as she made herself comfortable in Faustus’s arms. “I assume we are now speaking of Nina Robinson.  Is she still giving you trouble?” “Nothing but!” Faustus then told Zelda all about Nina’s absurd behavior from that morning. “I just can’t get rid of this woman! I can’t get any work done either. I finally had to pretend that I was going home, drove around the block, and finally had to hide in a broom closet just to get my work done. It’s pathetic! Oh, and all this was after she undermined me at every turn during that meeting with Hopper.” It was then that Zelda realized something. “Why go to Principal Hopper at all? Why not talk to Theo? He would be more understanding.” Faustus nodded. “That was my 1st idea too but he took off early for a long weekend with Robin. I’ll ask him on Monday,   beloved, and see if he can deal  with Hopper.” Soon after, Zelda fell asleep in Faustus’s arms, her head on his shoulder. Faustus himself was half asleep when he realized something. He and Zelda were still passionate lovers. Making love more times a week than not. But tonight, the topic was not even bought up and that was okay.  Faustus had sensed that Zelda was tired. Did she sense he was too? It was like they could communicate without words. After 13 years of marriage, he had obtained something with Zelda that Faustus never had with any other woman; true intimacy. He vowed that no one would ever take that away.

Turns out Faustus didn’t get the chance to talk to Theo about the play or anything else. Early on Monday morning, even before the 1st-morning bell, Theo slipped and fell on the floor. Bruising his neck and breaking his leg in 3 places. Theo had to take leave.

Cordelia sighed and sat back. “Dad, you’re killing me!” It was Monday evening and Cordelia sat at the kitchen table with her homework while Faustus stood a few feet away, finishing washing the dinner dishes.  Zelda had just left to do a bed check at the academy. “What’s wrong, honey?” Faustus asked. “You know what’s wrong.” His daughter frowned. “I’m the first 1 up tomorrow to read my family tree essay in front of the whole class. What were you thinking when you handed out this assignment.” “I was thinking that we all have families and all the class could share in it. So, what’s wrong? Isn’t your essay finished?” “Oh, it’s finished, all right,” said Cordelia. “And come tomorrow morning everyone in grades 7 and 8 will know that I’m descended from nothing but witches and warlocks. There’s not a mortal in the bunch, well, except for Sabrina, of course. So I figure if I read my essay at 10:15, they should be burning me at the stake on the school’s front lawn by 10:30.” Faustus rolled his eyes and wiped his hands on a towel. “Don’t be overdramatic, Cordy.  Bring your essay over here please.” Cordelia got up from the table and, with the pile of papers, went over to her father. Once Faustus had the papers in his hands, he spoke in Latin and for a moment, the essay glowed bright orange before he gave it back. “There.” “What did you do?” “I fixed it.  Now, the word witch is replaced with the word countess and a warlock is now an earl. It should read just as well.” Cordelia raised an eyebrow.  “You spelled my homework?! You’ve never done that before.” “Don’t get any ideas, Cordy. It’s only a 1-time thing. To keep us all safe.” Faustus took another look around the room to see if anything else needed to be cleaned. He saw a book on the table.  Faustus didn’t even need to move to know that it was the novel called ‘the witch’. The book Nina had assigned for English.  He gestured with his head. “How is that?” “Very odd,” Cordelia answered. “And it’s certainly fiction.” “What makes you say that?”   Cordelia walked back to the table and picked up the book, flipping through the pages. “This is a direct quote, ‘A witch is always a woman…There  is no such thing as a  male witch.’” Cordelia put down the book, frowned. “Now we both know that’s not true.” “The author is a man, right?” Faustus shrugged. “Sound like someone is trying to shift blame.” Cordelia had not thought of that, but the thought did make her smile. Faustus was right. Cordelia’s essay went over well the next day.   She actually felt good about it and managed to hold on to the positive feelings until the mid-morning break. The class was just letting out when a secretary posted something on a nearby bulletin board. It was a signup sheet for play auditions, starting that very afternoon. The triplets and Sara were the first to sign up, then they handed the pen to Cordelia. Cordelia took a step back. “No, thanks.” Erin frowned. “What’s wrong, Cord?” “Nothing, I would just prefer to work backstage.” Erica lifted an eyebrow.  “Since when are you shy?” “See? I told you guys that she  would see herself to be too good for our play.” Sara cut in. “I didn’t say that!” Cordelia snapped. It was Emily who tried to keep the peace.  “But the 5 of us always do everything together.” No, Cordelia thought angrily. The 4 of us always used to do everything together. Sara just showed up a month ago. As Cordelia dealt with her friends, Faustus stood in the classroom doorway when a smiling Nina walked up to him. “I’m glad we’re co-directing this play. It will give us more time together.” Faustus held her skin as she tried to hold his hand. Wordlessly, he just sighed and walked away. Great. More time with Nina Robinson, exactly what he didn’t want.

The rest of the school week was filled with play rehearsals and family tree presentations. Being from the same family, the triplets were allowed to present their essay together. On Friday, it was time for Sara to read her essay. Cordelia didn’t care to pay attention so she picked up a pencil and did some math. So she was only half-listening when Sara said, “Turns out I’m descended from a judge from the Salem witch trials.” Cordelia dropped her pencil and buried her face into her palm. Of course, Sara’s family was from Salem. Of course, they freakin’ were! 20 minutes later, the class clapped as Sara finished her report. “Sickening,” Cordelia muttered. “Do you have a problem with my report, Cordelia?” “Yes, I believe  I do. I understand that you can’t choose your family or where you come from but you spoke so proudly of your relatives from Salem.” Sara shrugged. “Maybe I am.” Cordelia got up and went up to Sara. “You’re proud to be related to a man whose job it was to murder people?!” “It was his job. His civil duty.” “It’s still murder!” Cordelia insisted. “Calm down, will you?” Sara asked. “It’s not like witches are real people.” “Miss Spellman,” Nina finally stepped in. “Please return to your seat.  Sara was nice enough to listen to your report.” Cordelia’s hand curled up in a fist, but only Faustus saw it and covered it with his own as he whispered into his daughter’s ear.  “You have every reason to be upset. But she finished now, the worst is over.

Yet, it wasn’t. The following Tuesday afternoon, during English class, everyone was asked to hand in their novel, Witches, and their notes about it. Cordelia, for one, was glad to be rid of it. But then, Nina rolled in a TV and DVD player. “Now I know that they just did a remake of this movie but the 1991 version will work just as well.” Faustus allowed his 7th graders to watch the movie as well. It was a little silly yet seemingly harmless. Until the so-called ‘witches’ met in a hotel ballroom, locked the doors, and took off their faces-which were all rubber masks. Now all the normal-looking women looked like wrinkled old crones. Except the 1 they called the grand high witch. To call her a wrinkled old crone would be an insult to old crones! 1 moment, she was a lovely woman, the next, a monster. She had little white hairs growing out of every part of her body except on her head. Her spotty skin could have seen on her back which was as uneven as her very long nose. Her ears were large and bat-like and her eyes were not of this world. It happened so fast and cause such shock that it caused Faustus’s mouth to fall open. As soon as the shock wore off, Faustus looked for Cordelia. “Oh no.” He saw that look in his daughter’s eyes before and he doubted that a mere TV and a DVD player set stood a chance against the divine child. Only the kids in the front room saw the glass on the screen crack but everyone saw when the golden sparks flew from the television. Then the TV went black. A moan from the hallway instantly told Faustus that the power had gone out all over school. A boy looked out the window and remarked, “Hey, looks like there’s a blackout all over town!” Meanwhile, without asking permission or bothering with a hall pass, Cordelia got up and left. Faustus rushed after her. “Cordelia!” Faustus entered the hallway just in time to see his daughter duck into the girls’ room. He went in with caution but when he was sure no one else was there, he locked the door. In the last stall, Faustus noticed that there was fresh vomit in the toilet and a white foot coming out of the wall.  Faustus gently nudged the foot with his own and the shoe color returned and the rest of his daughter emerged from the wall. Faustus tried to keep things light. “You have to work on your hiding spells.” However, Cordelia would have none of it. Her face was bright red, and there were plump, hot tears fresh on her cheeks. “Is that how they see us?” She asked. “That we all are evil, gruesome creatures who are out to murder foul-smelling mortal children?” “Oh, honey.” Faustus grabbed a bunch of toilet paper before he sat down and drew Cordelia into his lap, just like he did when she was little. “Darling, you know that’s not true. That was a stupid movie based on a book by a writer, who as you told me yourself doesn’t believe in male witches.” “No.” She insisted as Faustus wiped her tears. “A book can be 1 person’s opinion but it takes a whole lot of people to make a movie.” “You’re right, but that movie has nothing, I repeat, nothing to do with us. And I can prove it.” Cordelia put her head on Faustus’s shoulder. “You can?” He nodded. “The main character is called the Grand High Witch.  You and I both know that there is no such title. The highest title in a coven is a high priest or a high priestess. Speaking of your mother, she is 100% witch but she is also a great beauty as well as a professional midwife and teacher. 2 jobs directly related to children, who she would never hurt.” “But why do mortals do this? Why are witches always the bad guy?” “Hmm, good question.” Said Faustus. “I think it’s a paradox. Mortals love to be scared, yet mortals fear the unknown. So they put all their fears in these characters and called them witches. The mortals who don’t believe think there isn’t anyone to offend and even those who do believe, don’t realize that we have our own faith, our own laws, and society, our own world and therefore, have no need or desire to steal theirs.” “You’re really smart, you know that Dad?” “Thank you.” Faustus looked at his watch. “We should be getting back.” “No, I can’t. I can’t go back in there.” “There’s a blackout. I’m pretty sure that means no more movie for today.” “But they’ll still be talking about it.” Cordelia pointed out. “I’m telling you Dad, I have reached my limit for now.” Faustus sighed. “Okay, since there are only 20 minutes of school left for today, go lay down in the nurses’ station, and then we’ll go home.” Cordelia’s half-smile made them both feel a little bit better.

The pre-teen witch wasn’t the only 1 having a bad week. The triplets were understandingly upset when their father moved out of the family home earlier in the week. To cheer her girls and herself up, Mrs. Warner bought tickets to a magic show and because the show was on the day before the girls’ monthly sleepover, she got 2 extra tickets for Cordelia and Sara. They were even invited to sleepovers on Friday night as well as on Saturday. The magic show took place in a nearby town, so they showed up early and decided to browse the local shops. It was there that Cordelia got the feeling that she was being followed and she was right. The boy followed Cordelia as she and her friends went from shop to shop. However, he lost sign of Cordelia when the others approached the theater and he hid in an alleyway. “Why are you following me?” The boy turned to an annoyed Cordelia behind him, her arms crossed. “I have gotten so tired of Mother and Adam acting so lovey dovely all the damn time so I decided to come to the surface and visit you. Mother was right.  You are pretty.” He tried to touch her face, but Cordelia dodged him. “Hold on there! ‘Visiting’ would imply that we know each other. I’ve never seen you before in my life.” The boy seemed genuinely puzzled. “I’m Alexander Morningstar, the crowned prince of hell.” Something clicked in Cordelia’s mind. “You’re Lilith’s son?” “Yes, and you may call me Zander if you like. Now, I have a question for you. Why are you and those other witches from your coven going to see a mortal magic show? Don’t you know that stuff is all smoke and mirrors?” “Well, my friends are mortals so- “ Zander looked horrified. “You associate with mortals? Willingly? That must stop. It’s unbecoming for the future queen of hell.” Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Did you just call me the future queen of hell? How on earth do you figure that?” “Well, we are betrothed, so obviously when I become king- “ “Hold on, did you just say betrothed? As in engaged? You’re crazy!  I’m only 12!” “So am I but it’s not up to us. It was all arranged by my mother and your parents when we were just infants.” Cordelia shook her head. “Now I know you’re lying. My parents would never do that to me.” Before Zander could respond, a voice called out. “Cordelia? Where are you?” “Coming, Mrs. Warner!” “Are those mortals bothering you? I could kill them for you if you like.” “No! You are not going to kill my friends! Go home to your mother!”  Cordelia ordered. “Don’t walk away from me!” “Go!” Zander flew through the air and hit the wall at the end of the alleyway.  “You have got to learn to control your divine powers.” Yet, Cordelia was already gone.

Faustus loved making love to his wife. In fact, he could make love to Zelda morning, noon, and night and still crave more of her. Therefore, he had no objection when Zelda woke him up early on Saturday morning and began to make love to him. They were both breathing heavily when she rolled off of him. “See? I told you I always get my man.” Faustus was shocked and horrified to see Zelda transform into Nina. “NO!” Faustus screeched as he sat up in bed. “Darling? What is it? What’s wrong?” Faustus turned to see the real Zelda lying beside him and he felt his lip begin to tremble.  “Darling, I’m been unfaithful!” “What?!” It was now Zelda’s turn to jolt up in bed. She was angry, but only for a moment until Faustus explained about his dream. Then she smiled and shook her head.   “Faustus, my darling, how many times must we go through this? It was only a dream and dreams don’t mean anything.” “I know! I know!”  Faustus muttered. “But why did it had to be about Nina Robinson? I don’t want that woman anywhere near my mind, this house and certainly not our bed!   It’s bad enough that I can’t escape that woman during the day! We share the same classroom, now we’re forced to codirect that damn play together. In fact, there’s another rehearsal this afternoon, so- “ “So, no wonder she’s on your mind. But mortals do not use glamour spells so it’s unlikely   your dream will come true.” “It was more like a nightmare,”  Faustus muttered. Soon Zelda had calmed her husband and as they lay side by side, Faustus wondering why Zelda was suddenly silent.  “Penny dreadful for your thoughts, my love?” “This is going to seem like an odd question since we had our own affair, but why was it that once you cheated on Constance left, right, and sideways without the slighted hint of guilt but you seemed ready to cry at the mere thought of being unfaithful to me?” “I wasn’t loyal to Constance because I never felt that I need to. Yes, we were married, but as you know, she was not my choice. At the wedding, I was just saying words, not vows.  With you, it’s the exact opposite. I’ve loved you since I was 16.  Your name is carved on my heart. I have spent years, decades dreaming, yearning to be your husband and the father of our children. Now, that Hecate has seen fit to bless me with all I could desire if I ever lost you for my own stupid, avoidable actions, I would never be able to forgive myself. I think that’s why these dreams freak me out so much. It’s not just about me having affairs, it really hurts that because of that damn curse that I can’t trust myself not to hurt you. I hate that.” “Then it’s a good thing that I trust you whole heartily,”  Zelda said softly before she kissed him. During the kiss, they could hear whining and scratching at the door.  “What’s wrong, Tom? You want out?” Zelda got out of bed and patted her familiar before she opened the door to let the dog out and then     Zelda got an idea, took off her underwear, and returned to the bed.   “You know, Faustus,” Zelda said as she slowly undid the cord of her husband’s PJs pants and exposed his manhood. “what I think you need right now is a good detraction.” Zelda kissed him deeply as she climbed on top of him. She broke the kiss only long enough to yank her nightgown over her head. As they reached their shared climax, Zelda moaned and bent back as Faustus left a trail of kisses from her stomach to her rib cage. “Feeling better?” Zelda smiled at him in the afterglow. Faustus smiled back. “After such a sweet distraction, how can’t I?” “Good.” Zelda leaned over and kissed him deeply again. It took everything Faustus had to stop her. “Dearest, you know I want this, but if we are missed at breakfast, they might come up here.” “Faustus, there is no ‘they’ to miss us. Cordy still at the Warners, Jake, and Ambrose decided to go with Dr. Cerberus to something called a comic a con.” Faustus propped himself on his elbow. “Are you saying that we have the house all to ourselves? That never happens! Well, the heaven with breakfast,” Zelda laughed as Faustus rolled onto her, pinning her arms down. “I say we celebrate!” Her husband declared. And boy, did they celebrate!  They made love for hours. They even felt like breaking out their old toys, the whips, chains, and the cat of 9 trails. Faustus laid back, sighing contently when he noticed that Zelda was up and reaching for her robe. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Downstairs,” Zelda answered. “It’s almost 2 p.m. and we’ve missed breakfast and lunch, I’m hungry. Besides, I need to keep my strength up for the 2nd round.” “In that case, I’ll come with you.” Down in the kitchen, Zelda and Faustus talked, laughed, and flirted as they made a meal together. Zelda chuckled as Faustus kissed her behind her ear as she stirred the pot. They both looked up as a knock came at the front door. “I’ll get it.” Faustus was in great spirits, however, he lost his smile as soon as he opened the door. “Faustus, baby!” “Mrs. Robinson, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?” “Oh Faustus, how many times do I have to tell you? You don’t have to be so formal? Just call me Nina.” “And how many times do I have to tell you? If there was a more formal way to call you than Mrs. Robinson, I would call you that. Now, what do you want?” Faustus demanded. Nina looked around before asking. “Where’s Cordelia?” “At a friend’s house.” “Great.” Before Faustus could figure out what was happening, Nina had stepped forward, grabbed him, and kissed him. Faustus struggled for a second before finally pushing her away. “What on earth are you doing?!” “Your daughter is in our class. I finally figured out that you don’t want Cordelia to tell your wife about us. That’s why you pretend not to like me at school.” For the love of Hecate! Faustus rolled his eyes. “I’m not pretending anything! I don’t like you. I never liked you and I never will like you.” They talked more and hearing voices, Zelda came out of the kitchen.  She could only see Nina from behind. “Can I help you?” Nina turned. “Yes. You can leave us alone.” Nina only got madder when Zelda came to join them. “Faustus, tell your employee to give us some privacy.” Faustus put an arm around Zelda.  “This isn’t my employee. This is Zelda, my wife.” Nina pointed. “This is Zelda…but I’m so prettier than her.” “No, all you are is rude,” Faustus grabbed Nina’s arm and guided her out the door. “You’re also out of    here.” Faustus shut the door in her face. Nina went down 4 steps when the door opened. “You can handle this afternoon’s rehearsal by yourself, right?” Faustus asked. “I suddenly feel very    sick.” He made a lame attempt at a fake cough and slammed the door again.

“Look, I’m not saying I don’t think the play is not good or anything. I just don’t think it’s great yet.” Sara said. Cordelia felt like screaming. Last night’s magic show had been fun, once she was able to put that odd boy and his crazy comments out of her mind. By the time they were back in Greendale, it was too late to do anything but sleep. The morning seemed peaceful enough she supposed, but the play rehearsal this afternoon took hours. Somehow, on the walk back to the Warner house, the subject of the Greendale 13 came up. Sure enough, right after supper, Cordelia followed her friend back into the cold October night to go visit Mary Wardwell. Cordelia wasn’t happy at all to see the very woman who shot and nearly killed her own mother. They finally stop talking about Greendale 13, only to start talking about the play again! Sara lit up. “I just got a great idea. I mean it, I’m a total genius! We should go to Salem ourselves. I mean, we should take the whole class on a field trip. To really understand the play.” “You’re right, that’s a great idea!” “Yeah, we should totally go to Salem!” “Cool!” Cordelia felt very uncomfortable as all eyes looked at her. “Um, I got to pee.” She grabbed her PJs and ran down the hallway to the bathroom. “Calm down,” Cordelia told herself in the mirror. “No one is going to Salem. They’re just thinking out loud.” After taking 5 minutes to calm down and get undressed, Cordelia returned to the triplet’s bedroom to find all the other girls on their phones. “What are you guys doing?” Cordelia asked. “We’re looking up how to get to Salem. Look guys, it says Salem is just 7 hours away by car.” So much for just thinking out loud. “Look, guys, I don’t think a field trip to Salem is such a good idea.  If it takes 7 hours to get there, it would take 7 more to get back.  That’s 14 hours in travel alone and suddenly we’re on an overnight trip. Given that the play is next Friday, I don’t think we have the time to fundraise enough.” “Typical Cordelia, always with the negative,” Sara muttered. “Oh, shut up, Sara!” “Lay off, Sara,” defended Erin. “She has been a better friend to us than you’re ever been!” “Why?!”  demanded a hurt Cordelia. “Just because I didn’t want to act in a stupid play?” Emily spoke up.  “Excuse you, but we chose that play!” Cordelia crossed her arms. “Why do I get the feeling that Sara picked the play and the 3 of you just went along with it because the longer we know Sara, the more you’re turning into sheep.  If I’m right, it begs the question, why would a self-proclaimed Wiccan chose a play about the Salem witch trials?” “’ Self-proclaimed?  It’s like you don’t believe me.” “I don’t. In fact, I think you’re lying about the whole thing.” Cordelia had to raise her voice against the triplets’ outcry. “Name 1 magical thing you’ve done since moving to Greendale.” Sara looked Cordelia right in the eye and said “I summoned the fear demon.” You remembered. Cordelia thought as the triplets showered Sara with awe. The fight continued for another hour, with raised voices and hot tempers. “Enough, I can’t stand this anymore!” Erin finally said. “Cordelia, I think it’s time you leave.” “What? Why me?” “Because you’re the 1 who started this fight.” Cordelia didn’t know about that but she was aware of the time. “You really want me to leave? Now? It’s 10:30 at night. I live across town; Sara lives down the street. Why doesn’t she leave?” No one said anything. Cordelia saw all the girls frowning all at once. Cordelia didn’t know what to think, but she knew the triplets had never thrown her out before. “Fine!” Cordelia stood up and swallowed back her tears. “I’m not going to stay anywhere where I’m not welcome.” Cordelia got redressed and gathered up her things before leaving the house. She secretly wished 1 of the triplets were stop her but no one did. Once the front door closed, Cordelia took out her phone and called Zelda. “Mom? The triplets threw me out. Can you come to pick me up please?” “Oh, Cordy. Your father and I are not home right now and- “ “Mom? Mom?!” Cordelia realized her phone was dead just as it started to drizzle.  “Just  perfect!” Seeing no other choice, Cordelia flipped up her neck collar and then drew the jean jacket closer to her body and ran all 5 blocks to Dr. C’s bookstore. The shop had been closed for hours, so the preteen took a detour and knocked as she could on the steel back door. She gave a huge sigh of relief when Hilda answered the door. “Thank Hecate, you’re here! I’m sorry for disturbing you this late, aunt Hil, but I didn’t know where else to go. The girls and I had a huge fight, the triplets threw me out of their house, but I don’t blame them, blame Sara. Now they’re talking about going to Salem. I can’t get a hold of Mom because my phone died and- and- “Cordelia burst into tears. Hilda hugged her niece close and then ushered her inside. After a quick phone call, Hilda discovered that Zelda was at the movies, in the middle of a double feature with Faustus and Sabrina. Hilda managed to convince her sister not to change her plans because Hilda wanted to spend some much overdue alone time with her night daughter. It was just after midnight that Cordelia put on her nightclothes for the 2nd time that evening. Since Dr. C was gone for the night, Hilda insisted that her niece share her bed for the night. The remote was on the bed so Cordelia jumped when she sat down and the TV turned on. “I’m sorry, Auntie H, I didn’t know the remote was on the bed.” “Oh, that’s okay, love. Looks like you literary just fell upon a classic, bewitched!” “Aw, the only witch show in pop culture that does make me want to scream, cry or throw up,” Cordelia said while getting under the covers. Hilda nodded. “You know every time I see this show, I think about your Uncle Edward and Aunt Diana.” “And a gender swap.” Hilda nodded. “Also, call me crazy, but little Tabitha always reminds me of Sabina as a baby.” Cordelia smiled, for she knew that there was a strong, powerful red-haired witch on the show. “Would that make Mom Endora?” The 2 witches looked at each other and laughed. It felt so good for Cordelia couldn’t remember how long ago she laughed so hard.

As hard as Cordelia laughed on Saturday night, she cried even harder on Wednesday afternoon. Zelda had to let her daughter cry on her shoulder for over an hour before Zelda got the full story. Apparently, Principal Hopper came in at the end of the day and announced that he had just discovered an envelope marked for the Salem trip on his desk had 5000 dollars in it. That, on top of parents’ donations, made the trip possible. They would travel on a deluxe bus and would be in Salem for 3 days and 2 nights. They would leave the day after tomorrow. It was unbelievable that this trip was put together in a mere 6 days. “I’m 12-year-old, Mom,” Cordelia said, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t want to die.” “You’re not going to die, Cordy.” “Your mother is right,” Faustus said, coming into Cordelia’s bedroom.  “I may have lost complete control of my classroom but I am still your father.  I say you’re not going to Salem and neither am I! That is final!”

It was final and none of the rest of the family ever bought up the subject. It was on Friday morning and in the middle of breakfast, Zelda looked around. “Where’s Cordelia? Her food is getting cold.” “I think she’s still in bed.” Said Jake. Faustus raised an eyebrow. “At this hour? You know your sister isn’t much for sleeping in. Even if she and I were excused from school today since the rest of the class left for Salem this morning.” “I know, but I bumped into her in the hall at 5 this morning. She was so excited to get a text from 1 of the triplets saying they didn’t want to leave without making up.” Faustus and Zelda exchanged a look. After their big fight, Cordelia and her friends hadn’t spoken in 5 days. The longest they ever went without speaking. When they did manage to talk yesterday, it only took Cordelia saying that she wasn’t going to Salem, to start the fighting again. “5 AM is pretty early and Cordy said she was going down to the school to talk to them for 10 minutes so that’s why I think she’s still asleep.” Jake continued. “I go get her.” “Thank you, Ambrose,”  Zelda said before turning back to the boys at the table. “We have to make this a fun and busy weekend for Cordy so she won’t think of the triplets or Salem too much.” “Sure, Mom.” Jake nodded as Faustus kissed his wife’s hand. A few minutes later, Ambrose rushed back in. “I’ve looked everywhere upstairs; I can’t find Cordelia. She’s gone!” “Gone?” “What do you mean she’s gone?!” “Hecate, no!” The 3 looked back to Faustus, who was now looking at his phone and had suddenly turned whiter than a ghost. “Darling, what is it?” “I just got an S.O.S text from Cordy. She’s stuck on that bus and it’s bound for Salem.”

[blueneptunium]

Misspelling Fate - Prequel

Summary: “You’re a regular at the coffee shop I work at and you get back at me for all the times I’ve spelt your name wrong by mispronouncing me name in increasingly horrible ways.”Percy works at a campus coffee shop and can't get Jason's name right.

Genre: Coffee shop AU, no warnings

Word Count: 1306

Read on AO3

Percy didn’t mean to. Honestly. The coffee shop was just busy and looking at that many names and then writing them down? Percy’s dyslexia was in overdrive. Plus he was studying his Latin homework in between customers. English was bad enough when he wasn’t trying to remember hundreds of different names and phrases and grammar and -- well, you get the idea. The point is, sometimes Percy just spelled people’s names wrong. The fact that it happened to the same guy three times wasn’t his fault. Right?

The first time Percy saw him was during the coffee shop’s busiest time. The store would be completely empty, perfectly quiet where Percy could stare at his textbooks and try to study. And then in an instant it would fill with students and noise and caffeine and you knew the nearest lecture hall had just released their pupils. The tall blonde came up and ordered and Percy scribbled his name on the side of his cup. Or at least Percy thought he did. Rather than Jason, he’d messily written Yson. It happened to the best of us. When Percy returned the cup, the boy looked at it then glanced at Percy’s shirt, where his nametag hung.

“Uh, thanks, Parker,” he said, filled with light sarcasm.

Percy’s face reddened a little, but he didn’t think much of it. There were more customers. He didn’t even properly realized that the mispronunciation was the response to Percy’s misspell until later, once the cafe was calm again.

The second time he saw him, it was after hours during an extra seminar for “leadership development”. It sounded pretty lame to Percy, but it was required for academic scholarship students and Percy was on a service scholarship himself. He’d taken the extra shift to help over housing cost.

When he walked in, Percy noticed him immediately. He hadn’t looked much at him before because it was so crowded, but now it was hard not to. The boy walked in the room with such a strong sense of purpose you would think he was marching to Congress, not ordering bad overpriced coffee. He was all Roman jawline, blue eyes, and good posture. It made Percy wonder if he should be going to a leadership lecture. He didn’t dwell on it too much as just then his coworker dropped a jug of milk he was trying to put in the machine.

“Frank!” Percy half-shouted out of surprise.

That’s what you get for ogleing customers, Jackson.

“Here, let me help,” he said, feeling bad. Frank was a pretty clumsy person: he was very big but very self conscious, which didn’t help his movements. But he was also one of the nicest people Percy had ever met.

“No, I got it, sorry, you go help them,” Frank replied, nodding his head towards the three people that decided they were ready to order right when he wasn’t there. Percy shook his head and went to the register.

By the time he got all of their orders, Frank was finished cleaning enough to help him make the drinks, leaving Percy to call out the names. He’s favorite job. He didn’t stumble too much through Leo, but Piper got turned into Pepper and Annabeth was just him saying Ann and mumbling off. Luckily the girl with bouncy curls understood him.

“Uhh, Asyn? Nsoyn? I’m sorry, dude, you’re the only one left, just take it.” Percy exasperated.

The blonde guy came up with his leadership buddies chuckling. “Pleasure doing business with you, Peter.”

The whole not saying his name right on purpose miffed him a little -- and by the cool and calm way the A-son guy said definitely showed on purpose. It reminded him of his high school principal Mr. D who refused to correctly say Percy’s name, no matter how many times they met in the office. Which was, admittedly, a lot. However, Percy struck his best customer smile and replied, “Anytime,” before turning to make sure Frank wasn’t spilling anything else.

The third time it was a game. Percy was studying and everything was floating around. He didn’t even look up at the person who was reading out their order and quickly set the machine to work before staring at his notes again. He was pretty sure he’d read the same passage over a hundred times at this point and he still didn’t understand it. He was almost glad when the machine beeped and pulled him away from his study. That was until he went to write the name on the cup. He stared at the order for awhile trying to force the letters to stop doing flips so he could copy it. He sighed and wrote what he could. He threw an extra vowel or two in for good measure.

When he handed the cup back, realizing it was the blonde smirk from the seminar, he didn’t even bother trying to say the name. He smiled something that might have looked like a grimace and held the drink out. Percy thought he was in the clear. Percy thought wrong. The guy looked at his cup, stifled a chuckle, and replied, “Thanks, Pietro,”

Percy’s blush was followed by the crinkle of his nose. “Is it really that bad?”

He shook his head, “Nah, you’re fine. You dyslexic?” Percy nodded. “I’ve got a few friends that are too. I’m Jason,” Blue eyes held out his hand, not dropping his smirk at all. Percy shook it.

“Percy,” he replied, only because he didn’t know what else to say. Their hands stayed connected for slightly too long.

Rather than leaving, Jason pulled up a counter seat right in front of Percy’s books. After taking a long sip from his drink -- honestly it was amazing Percy was even getting the orders right today -- he asked what Percy was studying.

“Uh, I’m an oceanography major, but this is for my Latin class,” Jason made a face.

“Why are you taking a Latin class?”

Percy thought that was a little pointed, but his own ADHD made him blurt out things all the time, so he wasn’t too bothered.

“My uncle, Dr. Brunner, he teaches the course and I thought why not?”

Percy must not have concealed his dissatisfaction with that choice very well as Jason laughed fully in response. He had a nice laugh, the kind of person that tucks their head in and shakes when they laugh. In fact, it was cute enough that Percy wasn’t bothered by the fact that he was laughing at him.

“Been there,” he replied, which surprised Percy. “My dad is big on expectations and I ended up minoring in Latin, which I think I would have rathered stay as far away from as possible.”

“Minoring? I don’t think I can get through this class, let alone go through with a minor.”

“Maybe I can tutor you,” Jason supplied. His normal smirk was replaced with a soft gaze that made Percy blush.

“I mean, if you can get me to pass midterms, I would do anything.” He shook his head. Him passing midterms was about as likely as him flying a pegasus. Percy looked up at Jason, who had glint in his eyes that made him question his word usage. “I mean not anything, like there’s crimes and stuff,” Percy mumbled off, welcoming Jason interrupting him.

“Okay, I tutor you for this course. You pass, you go with me.”

Percy choked a little. That certainly one way to ask someone out. “Like the whole class, not just midterms?” Jason nodded. He weighed in his mind for a moment. One one hand, Jason could be a weird coffee murderer. One the other he was pretty cute. And Percy was definitely going to need help with Latin. Eventually, he nodded and held out his hand.

“You gotta deal, Jason.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Percy.”

[littlewheat]

Wally West Headcannons

Because I love him and I can:

- He plays the piano really well. He learned because of his superspeed; since his perception of time also got affected, Alfred suggested to Batman to suggest to Barry that he learns the piano in order to have a tangible outlet for staying in real time. Wally doesnt broadcast it that much since it’s more of a stress reliever/coping mechanism all his own- but it is an occassional party trick he’ll whip out to surprise and impress people. Also, Alfred most definitely went “undercover” to teach little, freshly speedstered Wally the piano (as that was just a few years before he knew Batman’s secret identity)

- Wally ( and Barry ) speak a lot of langauges. I mean, they run around the world a lot and Wally relies heavily on food to sustain his speeds. It makes sense that he would stop for food a lot and as Flashes, the two would like to chat or help out with some local trouble, etc. So every year, Barry and Wally learn a new language together. They started with the “love languages” and quickly broadened their horizons.

-The language thing is actually an unspoken competition for them to speak more languages than Batman (I looked it up- he speaks 24 languages including Kryptonian) So of course the majority of the Justice League wants to help out their favorite speedsters. Superman lets Wally study in his Fortress of Solitude, Wonder Woman teaches them Greek and Latin, Shayera teaches them Thanagarian, M’Gann teaches Wally enough Martian to get by, Green Lantern sends language videos/books from fellow Green Lanterns to help Barry and Wally learn random alien languages that Batman isn’t likely to speak, etc. By age 23 Wally can speak 32 languages with imperfect fluency ( he’s awful with proper accents but has impeccable grammar )

-Bonus: Shayera basically refuses to teach Batman her langauge and her and Barry mock Batman by speaking it together whenever he’s in the room.

-Before Wally got his speed, he had a motor tic where he would blink a couple times and duck his head occassionally with an arm twitching out.That tick transferred over after he got superspeed but now its really fast and looks like a really fast spasm/cold chill. No one mentions it but they all think its incredibly endearing.

- Sometimes Wally slips into “relative time” where everything slows down. This tends to happen most while he’s reading or problem solving or doing homework and things like that- Sometimes he’ll be reading a book at what seems like a normal pace for him... until the pages are burning from the speed he was flipping them at. From an onlooker, Wally will start to blur along the edges and books genuinely appear to spontaneously combust.

-For his birthday one year, Dick Grayson tried to get Wally a really fast kindle that could match Wally’s “relative time” reading speed- after three versions blowing up, Wally and Dick agreed that books might be safer/less expensive anyways.

-People quickly learn that if they loan Wally a book... its likely to come back toasted or in ashes. So... no one really loans him books more than once.

-Wally runs in his sleep :)

-It’s not so much a headcannon as it is pure cannon, but Speedsters can’t get drunk since their metabolism is so fast that their body runs right through it. On Wally’s 21st birthday, GL brings him some alien booze thats like crazy strong and Wally hoofs it (as he is used to doing with no repercussions. ) He’s drunk for, like, three days.

-Also, on a sad note: While Wally’s powers are on the fritz and sort of killing him, He doesn’t tell anyone about it. Dick Grayson figures it out when he plays a drinking game with Wally where he takes normal alchohol shots and actually gets a little tipsy. 

-Also, in regards to the Young Justice universe: I think Wally ( a guy who willingly got struck by lightning and doused in chemicals ) would not give up the hero biz. His powers were killing him and Barry and Artemis benched him- and out of solidarity, Artemis benched herself as well. Wally didn’t want to tell anyone - and as it was already majorly difficult for him and in the understanding that he deserves some control- Artemis and Barry agreed to keep it secret. Basically: Batman, Iris, Barry, Artemis and Hal Jordan know. Hence some frustration when he would jump in to help in “emergencies” - though anyone who knows Wally basically knew he did that with that exact reasoning in mind. That- in an emergency- he wouldn’t want anyone knowing he shouldn’t be helping...

- Wally can’t vibrate through solid objects for a while... He learns how to do so when he gets kidnapped or something and is super desperate. But when he does vibrate through things... they blow up. This is something he honestly can’t control for about as long as he couldn’t initially vibrate through things- but when he does learn to control it, he can still blow things up if he wants to ( eh, some pseudo science about speed and particles and things. )

- Wally is basically always covered in ice and plastic wrap, especially his shins.

- Wally is pretty nervous around storms. He sort of hates lightning. I suppose, if you were struck by it then it makes sense to understand and be wary of it happening again. That doesn’t stop Dick and Arty from making fun of him every time he flinches at a flash of lightning. It’s actually them trying to distract him as they know he’s low-key ready for it hit him (and with his enhanced perception, they know he watches the entire path the lightning takes to be sure it doesn’t arch towards them.)

-Wally loves Shazam and all but because of the lightning thing... the two have a sort of agreement ( enforced by a protective Robin ) where Billy/Shazam avoids switching personas near Wally. Or at least warns him when it happens.  This of course is after the first time Batson shows everyone how his powers work and Wally sprinted to another state leaving a lingering yelp behind.

-Wally carries a lot of static with him. He shocks people sort of a lot. He touches something metal? There’s a jolt. He tries to harness this “bonus power” as something he can do at will (like Barry can throw lightning if he runs fast enough type of thing ) and after some practice, Wally can do what Barry does. But he has terrible aim. And his intent was to not have to run to use it. At best, he just gives a really strong static shock. He definitely uses it to annoy everyone.

-Alternatively, Wally also shocks people when he’s nervous. Many of Artemis and Wally’s first kisses resulted in numb lips for our blonde archer.

-Wally also vibrates when nervous, angry or excited. Take that in as many directions as you’d like. ;)

-Wally is a little bit terrible at swimming. Like he won’t drown. But water isn’t the same as air and super fast water treading has mixed results and his accelerated heart-rate makes holding his breath difficult and also, it’s only fair to have this super world function as ours does where swimmers hate to run and runners hate to swim. Trust me on this. Even outliers have one they’re better at. I would know.

- Wally is sort of the couch-surfer of the hero world. Maybe a small part of it is rooted in him trying to dodge his parents, but he genuinely likes to visit his friends. And as a speedster, he really doesn’t do well with staying in one place. So as the Team and everyone gets older, Wally tends to pop into Roy’s apartment, Dick’s flat, Alfred always has cookies for him at the Mansion, M’Gann and Conner’s house (and so on) entirely un-announced. He brings random “souveniers” along the way and basically everyone has taken to keeping extra foods just in case.

- I honestly think Wally is bisexual but he just genuinely never realized it and doesn’t care much. Like, maybe I’m projecting, but I’m bisexual and I never realized it until my first kiss was a girl and I just rolled with it. Like I didn’t even bat an eye- I was just like, “oh, of course.”- I’d been saying how pretty girls are for years and always thought it was an artist’s eye for beauty in all forms or something but like... bruh, I am bi. But also, its not a huge deal. And I think Wally is the same? Like he doesn’t realize it but also- I think his first kiss was a boy. And he just blinked and rolled with it. I also think that he wasn’t all that good at committing to one person (speedsters got places to be and people to see or something) Like he is far from “getting around”- I think he had like three kisses before Artemis and that she was his first relationship. The first was a guy, the second was maybe some chick he kissed at a school dance, the second was a stranger that Dick dared him to kiss on some random summer day when they were in civvies hanging out together and the fourth was Artemis. I think he’s just so casually bi that no one else even suspects it except those who know his kissing history or whatever.

I could honestly go on forever! If you guys write or draw anything based on this please let me know! I just wanna see my ginger more, tbh.

[illuminating-dragons]

Lay Here In My Arms (11/14): Love Squared

Pairing: Lily Luna Potter/Leila Marcos (Fading Scars)/Tilly Ascough (Fading Scars)/Danny McEvoy (Fading Scars)

Summary:  Lily Luna Potter was born to love, and love well. All her partners agree.

Notes: For your pre-reading, I would highly recommend 'Pity the Living', which will give you some background on Danny, and 'A Sporting Good Time' (within the Fading Scars hub story), for some background on why the hell there's track and field at Hogwarts. I'm playing a bit fast and loose with what's known of other wizarding schools, but this was all I could find on Pottermore, and I made some educated guesses. I am also playing a bit fast and loose with French--I'm technically bilingual, but it's been a while. I also just didn't bother with accents, please don't murder me. And the Arabic is Google translate.

Leila

           “Potter!”

           Lily turned. So did Al, next to her. It was rather confusing; she’d prefer to be called by her first name. She couldn’t imagine how her other cousins managed with the constant “Weasley!”

           It was Professor MacMillan. Lily’s heart sank. Her Head of House was very strict, and if he’d heard about her helping Al, Rose and Scorp…

           Professor MacMillan didn’t look cross, though. He looked rather nervous. “How are you, Potter?”

           “Well enough, sir. Can I do something for you?”

           “I’d like you to come meet a new student. She’s been Sorted into Hufflepuff, and she could use a Badgerina’s help.”

           Al snorted at the name, but Lily was fiercely proud of the group. It was a long-standing Hufflepuff tradition, involving anyone who wanted to be in it. The only requirement was that someone be in Hufflepuff, and they had to do several good deeds and not get caught doing them in a year. This led to the group being made up of a lot of kind but sneaky people (several of whom were Hatstalls) and they had a lot of fun. Lily had joined her first year, and she found it almost as fun as Quidditch.

           “Can Hugo help me?” Lily asked, waving goodbye to Al as she set off with Professor MacMillan.

           “Of course. It’s just…she seems a bit shy. She’s from Koldovstoretz, but she wasn’t doing well there, so her parents sent her here.”

           “She must be lonely,” Lily sympathized.

           “Well, do your best to make her feel welcome,” MacMillan said. He gestured to the portrait. “She’s in the common room.”

           “What’s her name?” Lily asked.

           Professor MacMillan winced. “That’s the trouble, Lily. She won’t tell me.”

           “What?!”

           “You’ll see.”

           Confused, Lily stepped through. The common room was almost empty, like always at lunch time.

           A girl was sitting on the sofa, a trunk at her feet. She was wearing the Hogwarts uniform with a Hufflepuff scarf, but she also had a scarf on her head, sort of like the one Aunt Luna wore when Lys and Lorcan’s grandmother came to visit. What was it called again? The girl had a very pretty one; it was black with yellow flowers embroidered along the edges.

           “Hello!” Lily said. “I like your—is that a hijab?” There, she’d remembered it.  

           The girl didn’t answer, but she looked up at Lily.

           Worried that the girl would think she was being rude, Lily rushed on. “Welcome to Hogwarts. My name’s Lily, we’re in the same year. Nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

           The girl didn’t answer.

           “Please don’t be angry with me. I didn’t mean to be rude. I can go get someone else if you like?”

           The girl was still looking at Lily very intently. Then she said, slowly and carefully, “Je ne parle pas Anglais. Je parle Francais.”

           “What?” Then Lily understood. “Oh. Je parle un peu de Francais. Je m’appelle Lily.”

           “Je m’appelle Leila Marcos. Est-ce que c’est difficile, ecole dans un autre langue?”

           “Nos lecons sont en Anglais. C’est un ecole Anglais.”

           Leila leapt up. “Quoi? C’est France, non?”

           “Non. C’est E—um…Scotland? C’est Poudlard!” Lily was grateful that she’d learned the French word for Hogwarts.

           “QUOI?!”

           “Ou penses-tu que tu es?”

           “Beauxbatons!” Now Leila looked scared. Luckily, Lily knew what to do. She dashed to the fireplace and tossed some Floo powder in.

           “Shell Cottage!”

           Luckily Aunt Fleur was at home, and she was able to come through and help.

           Lily didn’t understand all of it, but she got the rest of the story as it was retold twice, first to a red-faced Professor MacMillan and then to a very confused Professor McGonagall.

           Leila was indeed from Koldovstoretz, but her family was from Morocco. The Russian school was a rough, demanding school, and Leila had hated it, especially because several of the other students made fun of her chunni (“Oh, it’s not a hijab! Sorry!”) and the teachers refused to let her pray. Her parents had taken her out, and decided to send her to Beauxbatons instead, since she was fluent in French as well as Russian and Arabic. But somehow her Portkey had gotten mixed up, and she’d appeared on the steps of Hogwarts. She’d explained to the house elves that she was a new student, and they’d dutifully gotten the Sorting Hat, and once she’d been deemed a Hufflepuff, brought her to Professor MacMillan.

           “The one time I decide to take a day off!” Professor McGonagall sighed, exasperated.

           The solution was obvious. Leila’s parents were contacted, and in the meantime Fleur offered to stay and act as translator. Lily stayed too. Her French was okay, and with Aunt Fleur there she was able to teach Leila how to play Exploding Snap. By the time the Marcos arrived, Leila was laughing and Lily had lost seven times.

           “Baba!” Leila rushed to her father’s side. The man hugged her tight. Her mother put a hand on her arm.

           Aunt Fleur started explaining, and Leila’s parents started talking. Leila finally interrupted.

           “Baba, est-ce que je peux rester ici? J’aime Poudlard—Hogwarts. J’aime Lily.”

           Leila’s mother looked at Lily. “My daughter wants to stay.” Her accent wasn’t as thick as her daughter’s. “But I am concerned about her understanding her lessons.”

           “I can help a bit,” Lily said. “I know some French.”

           “I learn language fast too,” Leila said slowly. “I can try.”

           “That’s good.” Lily thought for a second. “And really, a lot of our magic is in Latin anyways.”

           “Why don’t I come for your lessons, Leila?” Aunt Fleur looked excited. “My English has gotten much better, and I can translate when you’re confused. I can teach Lily more too, so you two can communicate.”

           “Yes.” Leila smiled shyly at Lily. “I can teach too.”

           “I’d love to learn more!” Lily said quickly.

           And so it was decided. Aunt Fleur would be Leila’s translator, and Lily was in all of her classes. She and Hugo, who’d learned some French too, helped Leila with writing homework, and encouraged Leila to try out for Quidditch. Leila, it turned out, was a natural on a broom, and she was one of the best Chasers Hogwarts had seen in ages.

           Leila’s English got better quickly—“I already know three languages, the fourth is not as hard”, and by Easter Aunt Fleur went back to full time midwifing. Leila and Lily still spent time together, and Leila was teaching Lily Arabic.

           “It’s a tricky language, but I like it.”

           Lily struggled a bit, but she did it anyways, because that meant spending time with Leila before the sun rose in the common room. They ate buns they begged from the House Elves and Leila taught her the characters and reading and a few new words every day.

           She also taught Lily what it meant to have a major, deep crush on someone.

           This sent her into a bit of a panic—not because Leila was a girl, or even because she was Sikh (her parents already knew that Leila was bisexual), but because how could someone feel all this at once and not explode? This terror and need and joy and glory—was this normal?

           She Flooed home and crawled into her mother’s bed for the first time in ages at midnight, and Mum helped her through it.

           “Lily,” Mum whispered, “darling, I don’t think you have a crush. I think you might be falling in love with this girl.”

           “I can’t be in love!” Lily protested. “I—I’m too—”

           “Age has nothing to do with it.” Mum sat up, careful not to wake Dad. Lily would talk to him later. Right now it was between her and Mum. “It’s about how you feel. And you need to tell her.”

           “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

           “Then she doesn’t. But Lily, be honest with her and with yourself. You’ve always loved hard, darling, but you love true.”

           Lily returned to the Hufflepuff common room just before dawn. Leila was already there with two enormous cinnamon rolls. “Where were you?”

           “I went to see my Mum—my māmā.” Lily sat down. “Leila, I know you have a plan for teaching me words, but there’s something I want to learn.”

           “Sure.”

           “How do I say…how do I say ‘I love you’?”

           Leila handed her a cinnamon roll and picked up her quill. She wrote it out. “أحبك,” she answered out loud.

           “Then…أحبك, Leila,” Lily whispered.

           “أحبك, Lily.”

           “That’s how I said it!” Lily protested. She’d gotten the pronunciation right for sure!

           Then Leila kissed her, and she understood.

Tilly

           “Come on, Leila!” Lily stomped her foot. “We’re going to be late.”

           Leila poked her head out the door, chunni askew. “You’d better go on without me.”

           “No, what’s wrong?”

           Her girlfriend looked at her miserably. “I’ve…got a cold.”

           “No you don’t. Come on Lei, what’s wrong?”

           “I just…I don’t want to go.”

           “Why not?”

           “I don’t like running around.”

           Lily went over to her. “Well why didn’t you say anything?”

           “Because…well, we play Quidditch together. And I’m your girlfriend.”

           “Yes, but we don’t have to do everything together!

Leila fidgeted with her scarf. “Lily, can I just watch?”

           “Of course you can! You don’t have to come with me at all.”

           “I like watching you run,” Leila clarified. “You’re beautiful.”

           Lily blushed. “Come on. I’m going to be late.”

           Lily bent over, breathing heavily.

           “Well done, Lily,” Coach Ryker said. “You’ll be a great addition to the team.”

           Lily beamed, her hair tumbling into her face.

           “Here, use this.”

           Lily looked up. And up.

           The girl in front of her was nearly a head taller. Everything about her seemed long and dark; long dark legs and arms, long dark hair that was barely held back by a bright yellow hair tie. She was holding out a pink one to Lily, and dark piercing eyes examined her over full lips turned up in a smile.

           “Mine break all the time. Still haven’t found a good spell for them.” The girl moved her hand. “I’m Matilda Ascough. Nice to meet you.”

           “Lily Luna Potter.” Lily took the hair tie and put her hair up, her skin hot. “I haven’t seen you around before this year.”

           “I’ve actually been going to Muggle school. Dad wanted me to get a chance to compete before I committed to magic.”

           “What’s your sport?”

           “Javelin and shot put.” Her arms looked like it. “You’re a good runner.”

           Lily shrugged. “I played football last year, and Uncle Dean said I might be better at this. I liked the running more than the game. Quidditch is more fun. Don’t tell him I said that.”

           “I wanted to try out for Quidditch, but technically I’m a first year, so I can’t play yet. Maybe next year.”

           “How old are you?”

           “Fifteen.”

           “So you won’t graduate until you’re twenty-two?!”

           “I might only go until OWLS. I’m not sure what I want yet.” Matilda smiled. “Suppose I should figure that out.”

           “Lily, you were wonderful!” Leila ran up and took her hand, beaming. “I’ve never seen you run so fast!”

           “She’s built for distance running,” Matilda said. Lily couldn’t stop her blush.

           Leila tilted her head. “Who are you?”

           “Matilda Ascough. Suppose you two can call me Tilly, Matilda’s a name for a much more grown up person.”

           “Hi. I’m Leila, Lily’s girlfriend.”

           “I know, I’ve seen you two around. You’re an adorable couple.” Tilly shook Leila’s hand. “Do you run?”

           “No, I fly. I’m a Chaser.”

           Tilly laughed. “Excellent! Think you could give me some pointers? I want to try out for that next year. I guess we’ll be on different teams…”

           For the first time, Lily noticed the red and gold on her nails.

           “I think we are.” Leila smiled tightly, putting an arm around Lily.

           Tilly smiled. “Well, why don’t we see about that on a date? By the lake after dinner tonight?”

           Leila blinked. “I told you, we’re girlfriends! Not friends.”

           “I was including both of you in that ‘we’, Tilly drawled. She winked at them. “What do you say?”

           Lily stared at Leila in shock. “Both of us?” She would never cheat on Leila. She loved her, loved her deeply.

           But Tilly was beautiful, and Leila had noticed too. And there was something there, something that felt right now that they were both in front of her.

           Lily looked at Leila. You okay with trying this? It’s sudden…

           Leila answered out loud. “We’ll be there.”

           “Lovely!” Tilly took Leila and Lily’s hands and kissed them. “See you later, lovelies!”

           That night they stayed out until the stars came out, and Tilly showed them how two could become three so very easily.

           “Alright, that’s it for today everyone, class dismissed. Read chapter four for next week, and this one will be tested.” Dad hesitated as everyone began to pack up. “Lily Luna, can you stay here a moment?”

           “Sure, Dad.” Lily kissed Leila’s cheek. “Save me a seat.”

           She saw her father frown, and she tensed. What was wrong? Was she about to get a lecture about making sure her relationship didn’t interfere with OWL studying?

           Dad waited until everyone was out of the room before he beckoned Lily closer.

           “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” Lily said. She had done a few things, but there was no way Dad could know yet.

           To her surprise, that made her father look sad. “I’m not angry, Li-lu. Just…can you sit down a moment?”

           Lily stayed on her feet, worried now. “Dad?”

           Her father took her hands. “I suppose there’s no easy way to say this. Lily…I saw Leila kissing Matilda Ascough. I thought you should know.”

           Lily burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it.

           “I’m not joking, Li-lu. I wish I was—”

           “No, Dad. I know you’re not. It’s just…” Lily trailed off. She hadn’t told her family about the latest development in her love life yet, because she didn’t really know how to say it. But clearly that had been a mistake.

           “What is it? Have you two broken up?”

           “No,” Lily said quickly. “It’s just Tilly…well, she’s with us now, too.”

           “I beg your pardon?”

           “It’s called polyamory. Tilly and Leila and I all like each other, so we’re all dating. It’s different, but I like it. We feel a bit more balanced now.”

           Dad was still staring at her.

           “I know it’s unusual,” Lily said, “and I know I should have told you and Mum, but it’s only been about two weeks, and I didn’t really know how to explain it.”

           Her Dad smiled. “Well, that’s lovely, Li-lu.”

           “Really?”

           “Sweetheart, all I want is for you to be happy. I’ll admit that this is a bit new to me, but as long as you’re all kind to each other I don’t see why it can’t work.”

           “We will,” Lily promised. “Tilly explained.”

           “Yes…” her Dad furrowed his brow. “She’s a bit older than you, isn’t she?”

           “Not by much.”

           “Well, I’ll have to have her by for tea with Mum and I to see her. Just to get to know her better, you see. But that’s fine. Is that relationship public?”

           “Not yet. Like I said, we’re still learning.” But it was so lovely to learn.

           “Alright. Then I’ll refrain from making jokes?”

           “Dad!”

           “I’m your Professor and your father, it’s my right!”

Danny makes Four

           Lily positively hated NEWTS.

           She and Leila had to spend nearly all their time studying, and for what reason? Lily had no idea what she wanted to do after Hogwarts, only that she didn’t want to do anything anyone in her family was doing. She wanted her own place, her own job.

           Leila was studying almost for fun (Aunt Hermione loved Leila’s colour-coding schemes)—she was brilliant, she could do whatever she wanted. But Leila was confused too. Professor MacMillan told them not to worry, that something would come up, and they should just work hard until they figured out a solution.

           Tilly was still a year away from OWLs, but she went to the library with the two of them. She was a good motivation for getting their work done quickly and correctly—that meant more time spent doing more interesting activities. Roxanne had already kicked the three of them out twice that year for those ‘activities’, although she should bloody talk.

           One night in January Lily simply couldn’t concentrate. It was another stupid paper for Transfiguration, and she loved that class but honestly she just didn’t care anymore, and she was tired, and Tilly and Leila were in a sort-of row and still hadn’t made up. Lily put her forehead on her knees and sighed deeply.

           Then she screamed in surprise.

           There was a boy under the table a few feet away, holding a cat.

           “What’s going on?” It was Roxanne’s voice, amplified.

           “Sorry, Roxy,” Lily called. “I got startled. I’m alright.”

           “Was it one of your girlfriends?” Her cousin’s voice was amused.

           “No!’ Lily said indignantly.

           “Alright then.”

           Tilly and Leila were staring at her like she’d gone mad, but Lily crawled under the table. The boy looked about her age, but she didn’t recognize him. There were a lot of kids in her year; twenty-six in the female Hufflepuff dormitory alone. Dad called it the baby boom.

           “Hullo,” Lily said. The boy looked scared, and he backed away from her a bit. “Are you okay? Do you want me to get Roxy?”  

           “Roxy?”

           “Madam Blythe,” Lily corrected herself.

           “Oh. No thank you. I’m alright down here.”

           Lily hesitated. Something about this boy was familiar. But it wasn’t him she was thinking of, it was of another cousin, who had two partners just like she did, who clung to a string of worry-beads on bad days.

           “Do you want to be alone?”

           “I don’t mind it,” the boy said.

           That settled that. Lily scooched a bit closer, her hands on her knees. “Nice to meet you. I’m Lily.”

           “Danny. I’m okay, really. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just easier to think down here, sometimes.”

           “Lily? Who are you talking to?” Tilly’s head was upside down, and her ponytail was falling in her face. “Oh, hi. Want more company?”

           “You three were studying,” Danny protested. “I don’t really need—”

           “It’s not always about need,” Lily said, remembering what Uncle George had told her. “It’s about what you want.”

           Danny blushed. His cat purred.

           Lily held out her hand, and the cat rubbed her head against it. “Beautiful cat,” Lily crooned. “What’s she called?”

           “Alice.” Danny stroked Alice’s fur, calmer now as Tilly and Leila joined them under the table. “Hi.”

           “I’m Leila, this is Tilly.”

           “Do you need anything?” Lily asked Danny. “Chocolate, tea, stiff Firewhiskey?”

           Danny looked startled.

           “My cousin Freddie has anxiety,” Lily explained. “He says the last one’s not always the best idea, but it’ll do in a pinch. So long as you have plenty of water.”

           Danny relaxed. “I just needed to be under the table. It helps a lot.”

           “Really?” Leila blinked. “I would have thought it’d be claustrophobic.”

           “Nope. I don’t have that problem. Just the anxiety. It comes out in my magic, which is why I have Alice. She makes it a lot easier. And hiding under here…it’s like a small, safe room.”

           Lily nodded. “Okay. Well, what do you want to talk about?”

           “I…don’t know? You can pick.”

           Lily hesitated, but she asked the one question she hated having to answer most, but everyone else seemed to love. “What do you want to do after school?”

           Danny’s face lit up. “I want to run a home for children.”

           “You do?”

           “Yeah. I mean, I had brilliant parents, and my sister Ellie—she’s the one who got the Headmaster to help me when I was little. But if I hadn’t had them…I don’t know what I would have done. Who I’d be. And we’ve learned so much about war orphans, and it’s still a problem when kids don’t have godparents, or they want to just leave home.”

           “Or if their relatives don’t want them.” Lily thought of her Dad, of God-Grandfather Sirius, of Bailey Longbottom (but born Bailey Harvey). “Or if they’re Muggleborn and in a bad place.”

           “Yes, exactly! And I…well, I like kids. Kids are great! I want to take care of them, but I don’t want to have kids myself. There’s plenty who are alive who need a home.”

           “I think that’s brilliant,” Leila said.

           “You do?” Danny smiled shyly. “I know it’s not exactly magical or exciting…”

           “It could be!” Tilly clapped her hands. “You could have programs for the little ones so they could learn before they come to Hogwarts, and do plays and sports and stuff!”

           “And there would be different kinds of kids, right? Maybe even from other countries; I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a wizard’s home for children.” Leila was tugging at her chunni. “And you’d want to make sure everyone learns about the world.”

           “And you could design the place so everyone felt welcome,” Lily finished. As she spoke, a design was taking shape in her mind. Astoria Malfoy had taught her the basics of architecture last summer, but Lily had given up when she realized how dull architecture could be. But building a house like this…and living in it, making it a home for anyone who crossed its threshold…

           She stopped. “Sorry, Danny, we didn’t want to run away with your idea.”  

           But Danny’s smile was huge. “No, this is great! I need help for sure. I know the legal parts of it—you know, figuring out adoption and guardianship and money and all that. But I was worried about how to do the rest alone.” He blushed. “I’ve needed lots of under the table thinking for that.”

           “I think we should do it,” Tilly said. “At least get started. We can build the house and sort out all the details we can, then get started.”

           “But we’re all very young ourselves,” Leila replied. “Do we really know much about taking care of children?”

           Then Lily had a thought. “What about the Shelter?”

           “The one Coach Dean works at?”

           “Yeah, with Parvati and Aunt Fleur. They mostly help grownups, but sometimes they have children with them. We could ask them for help, and maybe they could help us for the first couple of years.”

           “And I was going to leave after OWLs anyways,” Tilly said. “I could get started learning about childhood development, I’d get into uni easily.”

           Danny eyes were bright. “You really want to help?”

           “I have a wonderful family,” Lily said. “Wonderful people who love me, and I grew up happy. Everyone should have that chance.”

           “Can we really be parents, though?” Leila asked. “I mean, we’re all technically adults now, but…we’re still pretty young.”

           “That’s something I worried about at first,” Danny admitted. “But maybe…maybe we don’t have to be parents, at first? Maybe we can just be grownups who are taking care of them? And it’s going to take a little while to set up properly, anyways. We need funds.”

           “We need plans,” Leila said.

           “We need training,” Tilly said.

           “And we need a home,” Lily said.

           All that was an awful lot of work, but it was work at last. And Lily had a feeling that by the time they had that done, they’d be ready.

           She also noticed that Leila was eyeing Danny in more than a friendly way, and Alice was in Tilly’s arms already. And Danny had lovely eyes. He was looking at them too, more hesitant, but when Lily raised an eyebrow at him, his smile grew bigger, and he reached out for Lily’s hand.

           And that day in January, under a table in the Hogwarts library, Lily had a feeling that when they did this work, they would do it together, all four of them, bound by the same love.

           And that’s precisely what happened.

[elspethsunschampion]

Fact or Fiction: Chapter Ten

A/N 1: And so we begin the part I’ve been wanting to post forever.  Mwahahahaha~

Rated M for abuse, sexual content, and discussion of rape/non-con.  Canon-typical violence.

Summary: It’s Ral Zarek’s sixth year at Hogwarts. And everything would be fine if Jace wasn’t totally occupied with his new girlfriend, to the point where it’s honestly kind of weird, and Ral’s starting to be concerned. Now if only everyone would stop telling Ral he’s just jealous and LISTEN to him…after all, he’s NOT just jealous, right? (Sequel to Send to Sleep.)

Ships: Jace Beleren/Ral Zarek, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Hermione Granger, Nissa Revane/Chandra Nalaar, Elspeth Tirel/Teysa Karlov

A/N: Many, many thanks to @paperclipminimizer for beta-ing and checking my timeline, as well as answering all my questions about Harry Potter. Thanks also to Juri, @dragons-suck, and everyone on Sketchydoodles’ Vorthos server for listening to me rant about this thing as it took shape.

Also available on AO3 and FFnet.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten: Bitterheart Witch

        The smell of old books was oddly soporific, as Hermione struggled to keep her eyes open. She felt as if they must have gone through every volume in the Restricted Section by now, but they still hadn’t found anything about sailboats. Not that it could actually be about sailboats, of course, but whatever it was, they still hadn’t found it yet.

           Sighing, she shifted position, and her knuckles brushed against Luna’s. Luna looked up from her position crouched in front of the shelves, smiled brilliantly, and leaned over to brush her lips across Hermione’s cheek. Hermione flushed and looked away, but she was smiling. Squeezing Luna’s hand, she leaned forward, trying to conceal the fact that her throat felt strangely tight.

           Aimlessly, she reached for a large, solid book on the bottom shelf, let it tip forward into her lap, and stared at it. Saelanunge Gerecednessa. Old English. It took a moment for Hermione to parse it; although she had taken several classes in it because there were some spells—especially very old spells—that were not Latinate in origin. They tended to be less well known and therefore an excellent trick to have up one’s sleeve. Besides which, she’d been curious.

           Tales of Binding.

           “That’s it.” Luna was leaning over her shoulder; her breasts against Hermione’s back were almost inexpressibly soft, and it took Hermione far too long to succeed in parsing what she’d said. She automatically followed Luna’s gaze towards the intricate Celtic knot on the front cover of the book. “What?”

           “Sailboats. I can’t believe it. I mean, I suppose I can see how my brain made the connection, but it’s still rather funny, isn’t it? Do you know what it means?”

           “Tales of Binding,” Hermione supplied. “Wait, you mean this is the book?”

           “Let me see it.” Luna flipped it open, and, unusually cooperatively for a Restricted Section book, it lay quiescent as she turned page after yellowing page. “Yes,” she breathed, after a moment. “Yes, yes—this. Here.” Triumphantly, she pointed to an illustration with what looked like a coffee-cup stain in the corner. It was one of those sort of woodcut-esque drawings, with a lot of diagonal lines for shading that made the ring of dark stones stand out darkly from the page. “This is what I found,” Luna said with a shudder.

           Hermione squinted at the crabbed handwriting on the obverse page, trying to make it out. Poor handwriting and a language she wasn’t used to reading. “This is going to take a while to transcribe,” she frowned. “And I need some better lighting.”

           By the flickering torchlight deep in the Reserved Section, she could barely make out the letters.

           “Why don’t we go to the lounge?” Luna suggested. “Once we’ve translated it, we can tell Harry and Draco what they’re looking for.”

           Hermione nodded. “The last I heard, they were still poking around the general area and hadn’t found anything, but it’s been quite some time since they last reported to us.” She frowned. “I hope they’re all right,” she said quietly.

           Luna put a comforting hand on her arm. “I’m sure they are. Harry can be a little scatterbrained at times.” She tipped her head to the side in a smile. Hermione smiled back as she picked up Tales of Binding and got to her feet.

           Teysa refused to tell them how she’d gotten into Professor Potter’s office, which made Ral suspect whatever she’d done was probably illegal and therefore fascinating, but either way, she and Ral had gotten back at roughly the same time, and all Ral had had to do was bum around the Forbidden Forest until Mirko showed up. Which hadn’t taken long. He thought the boggart got lonely out there sometimes, and he felt bad that he hadn’t visited them this year, but with everything that was going on with Jace, he just hadn’t felt up to it.

           Without a way to talk to them—without Jace, he admitted grudgingly—it was harder to know if Mirko would understand what he wanted. There was just the chill of their breath and the sense of uneasiness they always brought. The blurred grey figure rising from the mist shimmered and took on Jace’s form—something Mirko was always pretty comfortable with, ever since their first year—and Ral had to suppress a sudden stabbing pain in his throat.

           Mirko’s eyes, blank and blue and just too large for the real Jace, stared implacably at Ral for a long moment, and then they held out one pale, misty hand in the direction of Hogwarts. Let’s go, they seemed to be saying. The journey back was short but silent, awkward because Ral didn’t think he’d ever been alone with Mirko before.

           Talking to them via the pensieve instead of directly through Jace’s mind was more difficult, and made Ral think vaguely of the His Dark Materials trilogy. The way disjointed images and symbols bubbled to the surface for interpretation was similar to the way he’d always imagined Lyra reading the alethiometer. Except that none of the three of them had an innate talent for it, because the person who had the innate talent for talking to Mirko was the person they were trying to rescue.

           Eventually, though, Mirko had nodded, which probably meant they understood what Ral, Teysa, and Chandra were trying to tell them, and faded out into a grayish mist that trickled out the door. Good timing, too, because this was generally around the time that Emmara showed up somewhere vaguely on the fourth floor and then vanished.

       Ral was now sort of trying to focus on homework, and pretty much failing—this essay was going to be incomprehensible even by his usual standards—while Chandra wasn’t bothering to even try, and was, instead, amusing herself by trying to make what looked like fire rings in the air. Teysa, apparently more patient than either of them, was calmly ensconced in a book nearly as large as she was.

       Several minutes later, the grey mist boiled up again from underneath the door and formed into a pillar, which rapidly became a vaguely Jace-esque figure again. It was smiling, which Ral cautiously took to be a good sign. Mirko wasn’t great at human facial expressions, but they usually weren’t totally off either. A smile was probably some kind of positive.

       Mirko floated over to the pensieve, and Teysa, Ral, and Chandra crowded eagerly around it. “Don’t elbow me,” Ral said irritably.

       “Then let me see,” Chandra responded, but both of them fell silent as the images began to form.

       It was the fourth floor, all right, built in miniature silver in the bowl in front of them. Dim, shadowy figures moved through it, and Ral watched intently for Emmara, though he wasn’t certain he’d be able to recognize her at this level of resolution. Slowly, the picture panned along an empty stretch of wall between two pictures. Instead of continuing, as Ral had expected, it paused. Then the silver bricks of the wall seemed to slide backwards like so many Tetris blocks, revealing a sturdy wooden door with an ornate handle that, for some reason, looked very vaguely familiar.

       “But that door doesn’t exist,” Chandra pointed out, in a puzzled tone of voice. “What’re they trying to tell us?”

       Ral frowned. “It looks familiar,” he said. “But I think you’re right, isn’t there just wall there? Mirko, are you sure this thing is doing what you want it to?”

       The blurred pale face turned slowly from the pensieve and then back to Ral, and the boggart gave a single, deep nod.

    ��  “Maybe you’re wrong?” Teysa suggested. “Perhaps it’s a hidden door—it could be concealed by an illusion, or even something as simple as a tapestry.”

       “I guess…” Ral said doubtfully. That didn’t seem likely, but he supposed it was possible. “We might as well go look for it.”

      “Yeah,” Chandra agreed. “Look, if she’s as powerful as you think she is, maybe she, I don’t know, created a new door or something, and then hid it.”

      Ral considered this. It seemed like you’d have to go to an awful lot of trouble to do something like that without the staff finding out. On second thought, absolutely no one had noticed or believed him about what she’d done to Jace, so maybe it wasn’t so unbelievable after all. “Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed.

     The three of them made their way up silently to the fourth floor corridor. Ral was shaking with suppressed nerves, and every so often, a tiny spark formed on his pinky finger and shot towards the ground. All I want to do, he thought angrily, is find out what she’s doing and stop her. And maybe get a thank you from Jace. A thank you would be nice.

     Or maybe—maybe he could get Jace to look at him the way he’d looked during the few hours they’d worked together in the lab a week ago, that soft, almost hesitant look and the way Jace’s mouth suddenly turned up into an excited grin, the way his lips—fuck. I am not in love with my best friend.

     Whatever. It didn’t matter. He just had to get to get him back. Help him. That was the only thing that was important right now, find out what Emmara had been doing to him and how they could fix it.

           He barely noticed the stairs going past and was almost surprised when they reached the stretch of wall that Mirko had indicated. Unsurprisingly, it was blank. Ral sighed. Now they had to figure out how to find the door the boggart had showed them—but Mirko was continuing past the wall for some reason. “Uh, hey, Mirko?” Ral said uncertainly. “Wasn’t it here?”

           The blurred Jace-head swiveled a disconcertingly large angle around and nodded. Simultaneously, Mirko raised one backwards hand and beckoned at them. This was weird, but the boggart was still the best lead they had, so, with a shrug, Ral followed them. They got to the end of the passage and turned back. “Seriously, what’re they doing?” Chandra hissed as they followed it right back down the corridor again.

           “Be patient,” Teysa said crisply. “Quite a number of spells require repetition.”

           Chandra made a grumbling noise, but subsided. Ral would have liked to complain as well, too nervous and on-edge to want to just keep walking aimlessly back and forth, but he wasn’t going to say anything after Chandra already had.

           Reaching the other end of the hallway and turning around again, they walked back yet again—and then Mirko stopped in front of that same damn patch of wall. Except somehow it wasn’t empty anymore. Ral blinked. Teysa had been right. Instead of the same boring, uniform paneling between two large portraits, there was now a door slotted snugly into the wall, the same door they’d seen in the pensieve, the same door that seemed so oddly familiar to Ral, if he could only place it.

           But this was it. This was the closest they’d been yet. With a sense of mounting triumph, Ral reached out and tried the doorknob. There was a soft creak, and then it swung inward.

           Things were awkward again. The previous night, Ron had apologized as stiffly as humanly possible to both of them, staring at something over Harry’s left ear when he did, and curling up in his sleeping bag on the floor with his back pressed against the wall.

           “Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Draco said loudly. “Weasley, I wouldn’t want your ass if it was the last ass in the bloody universe, all right?”

           Ron went red to his ears and glared, but he eased away from the wall a little. By the following day, he was at least back to making eye contact with Harry, although Harry noticed that he still stayed maybe an arms’ length farther away than he normally did. But if this was his rate of getting okay with the situation, as long as it kept up, it wouldn’t be that bad, Harry supposed. In a month or two, things might even be back to normal again.

           They had waited until the afternoon to go back to the stones they’d found, mostly because Draco was still moving stiffly and a little painfully in the morning, and Harry didn’t want him to strain himself, so he’d contrived to think up a lot of small excuses to keep them around the bedroom until it was relatively late. He wasn’t sure if Draco had tumbled to his game or not; Ron certainly hadn’t and was just getting more and more impatient.

           Now, though, they were heading up the old tor for the second time. There was still a chilly dankness settled across it, at stark odds with what was actually a surprisingly sunny day. “Why don’t you let me do the spells this time, Potter?” Draco suggested acerbically.

           “You can probably call me Harry,” Harry pointed out mildly. “You were certainly yelling it loud enough yesterday.”

           There was a sudden silence, and Harry watched in amusement as both Ron and Draco slowly turned red.

           “Harry then,” Draco said shortly, digging his wand out of his robes. “Either way, I don’t need you setting off another ancient curse and getting us all incinerated or turned into frogs or something equally nasty.”

           His approach was similar to what Harry’s had been on the previous day, except that he threw in one or two charms in what Harry thought was probably Gaelic, but the rapidity of his speech and the harshness of his accent made it difficult to tell. Harry had never had much experience with Gaelic anyways.

           He could still sense the darkness in the air, and the sensation actually grew worse as Draco carefully moved from spell to spell, until finally, he paused with a sigh. “Of course,” he said.

           “What is it?” Ron asked.

           “The spell Harry tripped yesterday seems to have been the last protection round this place. Now there are just traces.”

           Taking out his wand, Harry quickly performed his own spell, the spell that had ended so disastrously on the previous day. “You’re right,” he said. “Just traces of dark magic. But some of it’s recent—well, relatively recent.” And he thought he recognized the signature, too, though it would have to be a good decade old or so.

           “Some is very old, though.” Draco frowned. “There’s something familiar about it.”

           “I think some of the newer stuff may have been Bellatrix Lestrange,” Harry said, and Draco nodded slowly.

           “It’s her style, all right. A large amount of power pumped through to break an ancient spell. Very careless. And I think at least one person died here then, though I can’t be certain. Not on land with a dark spell this old on it—it’s soaked into the bones of the place.”

           Frowning, Draco chewed on his knuckle. “So, suppose this place was raided by Voldemort’s lackeys during the war. The spell was broken, and something was taken out of the earth—perhaps an artifact?”

           “They could have been doing so many things,” Harry shrugged. “I’m sure there are still Death-Eaters walking around free.”

           Draco gave him a sardonic smile. “Some people would say there was one right here.”

           He glanced in Ron’s direction, but Ron didn’t exactly rise to the bait. “So you don’t know what it was, then, mate?”

           “I don’t know what it was, but if you just give me a minute—I could swear I’ve seen something like this before. Ugh, it’s a pity we don’t have a pensieve.”

           “We could go back to Hogwarts,” Harry pointed out.

           “No—I don’t think it’s actually necessary.” Draco frowned, then snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. Father once took me to one of Voldemort’s boltholes in France—”

           “Oh, those.” Harry blew out an explosive breath. In the years following the war, they’d discovered that, although most of Voldemort’s followers were British, he had several strongholds in other countries; the most numerous, of course, being directly across the Channel.

           “They had someone imprisoned there,” Draco said slowly. “She was under heavy guard, and I wasn’t allowed to get very close. All Father said was that she had the potential to be a powerful ally if she could be convinced to aid us.”

           “I take it she wasn’t convinced,” Harry said dryly, “or we’d know a bit more about what was going on right now. Maybe we’d better look into this French bolthole, then.”

           “I’d love to, but I don’t exactly have my passport on me,” Draco responded, with a frustrated sigh.

           “Well, then,” Ron broke in. “Good thing you’ve got a practicing Auror with you, isn’t it?” He gave them a grim smile as they turned to him. “This is definitely enough proof to constitute at least a minor emergency. I can get us in through the international floo network.”

           The Sleeper in Stone, Hermione read slowly, paying little attention to the cup of tea at her elbow, and just a bit more to Luna’s hand, brushing lightly against her knuckles. Even tucked into a large number of blankets in her own room, curled up against her new girlfriend, and with a steaming cup of tea that smelled lovely, she was shivering, tired, and apprehensive. And Tales of Binding wasn’t exactly easy reading material. Hermione’s Gaelic was rusty, and the handwriting was scrawled and hasty, which, combined with a relatively odd word-choice and the author’s evident desire to be poetic but lack of particular talent, made it really difficult going.

           Upon then through darkness blinding spake Merlin—she had to be translating some of that wrong, but never mind, Hermione thought with a shake of her head.

           You viper, you whom I held to my breast

           Who has poisoned my veins in my sleep

           A rose with too-hidden thorn

           Now shall you too sleep.

           Too long your honeyed words have lulled me

           The stinking rot of your false love

           Clouding my mind with a miasma.

           Kill you I cannot, but sleep you shall.

           “Are you sure it’s ‘miasma’?” Luna ventured. “Or, well, maybe you’re right, but what do you think the author means by that?”

           Hermione frowned at the page. “It looks like he’s talking about a love potion,” she pointed out. “Smell’s a pretty good indicator, and that would definitely cloud your thoughts. A love potion that affected Merlin himself would have to be pretty strong, though.”

           “Well, there are all those stories about Nimue,” Luna said dreamily. “My da used to read me some of them when I was little.”

           “Most wizards don’t think they have much truth to them.” Hermione shifted, frowning. “But then, I suppose we don’t know how accurate this story is either.”

           Luna ran her fingers across the image of the standing stones opposite to the text. “This is what I saw, though,” she murmured. “The earth was churned up, but the ring of stones was just the same.”

           “Hmmm.” It was still difficult to think beneath the haze of exhaustion—Hermione wondered if she was getting sick. But something was niggling at her. “Did they have love potions in Merlin’s time?” There had been charms, she was sure of that. But, frustratingly—and she ought to know this, she was teaching History of Magic, for Merlin’s sake—she couldn’t quite put her finger on the appropriate range of dates for the first love potions.

           “Accio Weatherby,” she murmured, summoning his treatise, Mind-altering Magic Through the Ages. It was a good reference volume that wasn’t so in-depth she thought she’d have trouble finding what she needed. “Hmmm. It looks as if they did. Liliana Vess is older than I thought she was.”

           “Liliana Vess?”

           “Supposedly the inventor of the first love potion. Not much is known about her other than old stories. We don’t even really have reliable dates for her. She could have overlapped Merlin; she could also have been a few centuries earlier.” Hermione shook her head. There was simply no reason that the history of this era should be so sporadic. Perhaps everyone had been busy hiding from Muggles, she thought exasperatedly, although that really didn’t explain much. Well, history of magic wasn’t really her area of expertise; it was just where she was most needed as a teacher.

           The fire flared green, startling Hermione out of her reverie.

           “Hermione.” Harry’s head looked grim. “We’ve got a situation.”

           “You found the stones?”

           “Oh, yeah, we found them. Draco followed the dark magic trace there and brought us to France—by the way, that’s why I didn’t just floo back entirely, we’re still here—and to one of Voldemort’s old hideaways. He says there was someone kept here during the war, someone Voldemort was hoping to convince to fight on his side.”

           Hermione’s stomach was suddenly queasy. “Not someone we’d have wanted fighting on his side, I take it?”

           “No,” Harry said shortly. “Whoever she is, she’s a bloody dark witch. And we found the spot—took us long enough, there was an absolute maze of befuddlement charms around it. We finally managed to track down one of the locals—a squib—who remembered a tour group that came through for a few days.  There was a boy in a blue cloak with them, and he thinks the boy went into the ruins and came out with another young woman.”

           “Oh no,” Hermione whispered.

           The room Ral, Teysa, and Chandra had entered looked like an alchemical laboratory, complete with several heavy oaken cabinets, and a huge iron cauldron that looked as if it was probably big enough to fit a person. Teysa had immediately limped over to it and looked inside before pronouncing that it was empty, somewhat to Ral’s relief. Something about the hulking sides and the weird, knotted designs on its side turned his stomach. In fact, the whole room felt—dark. There was a strange dimness hanging over everything.

           “Somebody’s been doing dark magic in here,” Teysa said, sounding slightly uneasy.

           “How do you know?” Ral asked, even though the hair was prickling at the back of his neck.

           “I know what it feels like.” Teysa pursed her lips together, one hand clenching in the robes over her injured leg. “Let’s check around for any clues in the cabinets and then leave. I’d rather not stay here any longer than I have to.”

           The first cabinet wouldn’t open, not even to alohomora. Teysa warned them away from the second one. “We can come back later, but I want to have a good anti-curse book right at hand before we try anything with that.” She jabbed a finger at the complex rune inscribed across the front of the second cabinet. “That could be very nasty if we aren’t very careful.”

           The third cabinet, however, was less carefully sealed. The door shuddered and creaked when Ral cast the unlocking charm on it, though it didn’t quite open.

           “The hinges,” Teysa said suddenly, narrowing her eyes. “They’re not properly reinforced. We can probably just destroy them, if we can—”

           “Incendio.” A cylinder of flame blossomed from the end of Chandra’s wand, and Ral felt the heat of it on his arm as it went past. The hinges tried to maintain cohesion, but they were old and poorly made, and apparently Chandra’s fire was very hot.

           “Nice,” Ral said appreciatively as the metal glowed red, then white, and then finally melted, trickling down the side of the apparently magically-protected wood. That probably didn’t make sense, and somewhere in a side corner of his brain, Ral made a note to look more carefully into fire protection spells and how they interacted with normal critical points. Were there magical phase transitions in addition to the normal ones?

           And then the front of the cabinet was sagging off, and all thoughts of science were forgotten, because—“Oh my god. Kallist.”

           What had she done to him? The little cloud hung in the center of the ruined cabinet, nothing more than a puff of eerily unmoving grey mist. Hands shaking, Ral reached into the cabinet and gently prodded the cloud. It felt cold and oddly dry to the touch; his finger passed through it without any noticeable effect. “Kallist, mate, c’mon,” he murmured. “Can you hear me?”

           No response. Sickness churned in Ral’s stomach, the way it had last summer when Niv had gotten into Ral’s dad’s chocolate stash. But he’d been okay, they’d taken him to the vet—there weren’t any vets for clouds, Ral thought stupidly. Carefully, he got out his wand and looked from it to Kallist. Would conjuring a spark help?

           A cold presence at his elbow drew his attention back to Mirko, who was staring into the cabinet as well. Maybe he’d know what to do—they were both amortals, after all, so he’d have a better chance of knowing something useful than Ral would. Or maybe—he didn’t want to get one of the professors, but Tamiyo at least should have a better grasp than Ral himself did. Chewing on his lip, he tried to decide if it made more sense to leave for now and come back, or to stay and try to solve it themselves. He hated to ask for help, and he hated the idea of leaving—they might not be able to find it again easily—but Kallist was too important to gamble the wrong way on. So was Jace.

           “Hey, Teysa—” She’d have a better feel for this than Chandra would, probably.

           “Riddikulus!” There was a sudden, sharp crack, and Mirko gave a sudden croaking, screaming cry. As Ral whirled with his wand in his hand, the boggart exploded into a handful of wisps of grey mist, which dissipated into the surrounding air. Maybe it was the sudden dull thump of pain at the sight of his friend imploding, but whatever it was, when he tried to bring his wand to bear, he was just a moment too late to avoid it when the second voice shouted, “Expelliarmus!”

           Ral’s wand went flying out of his hand amid an explosion of sparks. He twisted around, trying to recover it, but it clattered to the floor halfway across the room.

           “Incendi—” Chandra’s voice was arrested in the middle of the spell she was trying to cast, and Ral turned around and then dove to the side to avoid a red bolt as someone yelled, “Stupefy!”

           He hit the ground hard and rolled, scrambling to the other side of the cabinet he’d found Kallist in. His wand was only a few feet away from him, if he could just—

           A foot came down on top of it, and Ral found himself staring at Jace as the latter bent and retrieved his wand.

           “Jace, what the fuck are you doing?”

           His friend stared at him and seemed to look right through him, a wide, dizzy smile plastered across his face. He raised his wand. “Don’t move,” he said. “Emmara?”

           She came around the side of the cabinet, barely even a hair out of place.

           “Well, whatever shall we do with you, hm, Ral Zarek?” The stupid-sounding French accent was gone, replaced by a different lilt that sounded almost like Elspeth’s. Not quite. “I’m very tired of you causing me this much trouble all the time.”

           “Jace,” Ral said steadily, ignoring her. “Give me back my wand.”

           The blue eyes blinked very slowly. “I don’t think I should,” Jace said finally, his voice sounding as if it was drenched in molasses. Emmara shot him an irritated look.

           “Oh, be quiet, Jace,” she said, and Jace shut his mouth immediately. “That’s a darling boy,” she continued, and he smiled dreamily.

           “What did you do to him?” Ral snarled, starting forward. Fuck it, he didn’t need a wand, he’d punch that smug grin right off her face. He felt something sizzling in the air around his fist, forming a tight corona that set the hair on the back of his wrist rising—

           Emmara snarled something in a language he didn’t recognize, and something hit Ral very hard in the region of his chest. He doubled over, gasping, but his lungs couldn’t seem to get any air.

           “You’re just aching for a lesson, aren’t you, boy?” Something sharp beneath his chin forced his head up.

           “Jace—won’t let you—do anything to me,” Ral forced out through painfully constricted lungs.

           “Your precious Jace is so full of Amortentia that his heart would give out if he had another drop,” Emmara responded, her eyes glittering darkly. “He won’t do a damn thing for you. And when it’s over, I’ll tell him to erase the memory, so he doesn’t have to dream of you screaming until your lungs run out of air.”

           “You fucking bitch—” Tingling surged up his arm, and he could feel it trying to break loose, but before it could, the wand jerked up beneath his throat.

           “Crucio.”