#also way less out of breath from coming up the stairs after getting the mail

[cesium-sheep]

yaaaaaay my lungs feel better enough to get the long last note on the chemical worker's song :) (proof that it wasn't just deconditioning like people keep trying to fucking tell me)

[fantasyandshit]

The light and the dark (remake) pt.2

Type:series

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron!reader

Part one

I stomp up the stairs, front door slamming behind me. After failing to get to my lost sister yet again, I had gone to the ring. I won, but the bastard had a blade- illegal in these rings- and got me in my bad shoulder, one that’s bothered me for years. The scars across my face itch as the warm air of the house blasts me.

“I’m home!” It’s right around dinner time so I decide to journey into the dining room where I presume my sisters are. I step through the threshold, eyes still down as I slide my jacket off my body, placing it on the wrack, as I do so, rolling my shoulders with a wince, I speak out loud. “Where’s that first aid kit again? This bastard had a knife, got me right in my shoulder.” I pause, “it’s not to deep which is good though. Plus I won.”

I finally turn around.

And what I see

Makes me freeze.

“Feyre.” Her name is a breath on my lips as I step forward once hesitantly before launching into her cautiously opened arms. “Gods I’ve missed you.” I breathe in her sent, tears welling in my eyes as I pull back just far enough to look at her face.

Feyre was always gorgeous, but she’d somehow gotten even more beautiful than I remember. My eyes trail to her ears- pointed, she’s a fae. My hand comes up before I can stop myself, tracing the delicate tips of them, brushing her hair behind them which causes her eyes to close softly. “Beautiful.” It’s then I notice the tensed stance of the male behind her, but I barely register him as I take in my lost sister.

She chuckles, hands unraveling from me as we step back. “I’ve missed you to little sister.” She smiles down at me, her cheeks fuller, skin less pale and freckles popping along her face.

Now. I notice the three males also present, and my eyes fall to the one who seems most on edge with my sister.

“You.” I seethe and not another second passes before I’m on the fae, he’s knocked to the ground and my hand pummels his face. “You did this.” A mother blow to his jaw, “you took her from me.” This time to his cheek. His eye. His jaw again. And then. I feel something soft wrap around my waist, lifting me from him.

I struggle, fighting the entities that carry me, “Get off of me! Let me get-“

“Yn! Yn! Please calm down.” My sisters voice pulls me from my stoop as I’m set down softly. It’s then I realize what had lifted me, they look like shadows, streamers of darkness and for a moment I stare in awe, snapped back to reality by Feyre speaking again. “Yn. This is Rhysand,” she points to the mail, rubbing his jaw, his violet eyes crinkling as he chuckles slightly at me.

“He didn’t take me. He saved me. And he is my mate.”

Mates. I had heard of them, something fae had, like lovers bound by the mother. Still, I glare at the male in question, “How do I know he didn’t tell you to say that?”

He laughs again, “I can show you. If you’re ok with that. Her memories. I am a daemeti.”

Ah yes I’ve read about them, able to get into one’s mind. I look to Feyre skeptically and she nods softly, nothing “it’s ok.”

Finally, I nod, closing my eyes as I feel claws run down my mental walls which I let down.

When my eyes open again, I turn stunned, poor Feyre. She’d been through hell.

And then, “You! She’s been here before! You knew she was alive, what she was doing?!” My finger is pointed at Nesta now.

“You didn’t need to know.”

“Find need to know? Are you fucking stupid?”

“Do not speak to me that way.”

“No you shut the hell up! Get off your high horse! She’s my sister too. Mine! And you let me continue searching for her, listened to my screams at night! And you knew! You knew she was alive, you know what was going on! You are absolutely unbelievable do you know that?”

I turn to Elaine now, anger still bubbling in my veins. “And you too? You dare betray me like this? How dare you, you listened to my nightmares, patched me from the forest and held me as I cried for her! You still hid this! You are a horrible sister! Both of you!”

“Knock it off Yn! You don’t get to speak to us that war!”

“Oh fuck off Nesta.”

A hand on my shoulder and I whirl around. Feyre, gods Feyre. She’s here. She’s alive and she well and she’s- gods I can’t believe I get to see her again. I finally feel the witness dripping down my cheeks as my head falls onto her shoulder, my body shaking.

“It’s ok. Breathe for me.”

—————

After calming down, I apologize to the three males- two of which I somehow hadn’t noticed until recently. The shadows, I notice swirl around the male with blue siphons. Their huge wings nearly bumping the walls, Illyrians, a warrior race like no other.

“I apologize for the stress and scare we’ve caused you. But I’d like to introduce myself properly.” The fae with violet eyes speaks, Rhysand and the one clad in red siphons snorts lowly. “I am Rhysand, high lord of the Night court.”

After shaking his hand with a small bow, still embarrassed for attacking him earlier no matter how many times he assured me it was fine and ‘quite amusing to see a human try taking a fae.’ I turn to the others.

“Cassian. And might I add that I agree with Rhysand. That was quite the show.” He chuckles as I take his hand, bowing slightly.

“I’m Azriel.” Gods his voice is smooth, like whiskey as he speaks. He takes my hand in his glove clad one, kissing the top of it softly.

“Your a shadowsinger correct? I’ve read about your kind before.”

He seems surprised, clearing his throat before speaking, “Yes. My kind are extremely uncommon. I’m the only of our time that we know of.”

“Incredible. So do you control them?”

A soft chuckle, my cheeks turn red as he begins again, a small smile gracing his feature, “not exactly. They speak to me, and I them, they choose to follow me and my command.”

“That’s amazing.”

“And you, your known as the Lord of Bloodshed correct?” A small huff leaves me? “Now where does a male get a name like that?”

This catches him off guard, before I smirk comes across his face, “I am known by many as that. But I’m just cassian to you darling.” A wink, I roll my eyes at his antics as he continues, “And as to where I get that name. I feel as though it’s fairly obvious.”

Rhysand cuts in, “Yn. You had mental walls built, how? How did you know, how did you learn?”

My eyes widen at the question, my hand coming to the back of my neck, “Well I’ve studied fae for many years, and I felt as though it may be useful if your kind did truly exist. Darmetis I mean.”

“Smart girl. I heard from your sister that you loved history, reading.”

“I-I do.” I don’t know why my face is red but it is.

—————

We eventually end up sitting at the table, dinner is served and Azriel is patching up my shoulder. No matter how much I protested, he insisted until I finally gave in.

“There you go. All done.”

“Thank you. Really.”

We all eat in practical silence, the tension in the room high as I still feel Nesta wondering glare scan over my face every now and again.

“So Yn. How’d you get that scar on your face. It looks badass.”

I freeze at the question, a shiver running up my back, I feel Feyre bristle at the question as well, but I clear my throat, speaking quietly. “Well when Tamlin came, I tried attacking him. He batted me to the side like a fly. His claws caught me in the process and they haven’t exactly healed properly.”

The three males grumble, clearly not fans of the beast either.

—————

I nearly begin crying again as Feyre leaves at the end of the night, begging her to take her with me. In the end I am unable and make her promise I’ll see her again. That we’ll be together again one day, which she agrees to, kissing my forehead softly on last time before disappearing into the night.

[halloumie]

23 june 2022

a phone interview today, and some in-person and online interviews next week. i feel a bit more hopeful now that i'm starting to get interviews again. not just about my job prospects -- talking to real people, even strangers, makes me feel better and more connected.

called an immigration specialist today, since ainan and i have been thinking about me going on the partner visa, but i do want to study next year, which would complicate matters since i'd have to get on the student visa. strange half answers. the specialist said that it didn't matter how much i earned apparently, it had to be ainan earning the 18.6k. we'll be consulting another solicitor.

the specialist heard a strange voice on my end of the call. big shivers scaling the stairs of my building alone, thinking about how scared she sounded. my parents think the lines intercepted. i suspect i played something from my voice mail, but how could a caller listen to my voice mail?

went back to solving leetcode today after a break of 2-3 weeks of despair, induced by not getting any software engineering interviews. watching ainan solve algorithms reminds me of how much i enjoy it also, the frustration, the murky understanding and sometimes how things work. often they don't and i'm being increasingly ok with that.

i do want to pursue a postgrad in cs. i'd like to do computational linguistics at a research institution and have faculty support. i'd like to not have to choose dead end jobs forever and start a career in software engineering. i'd like to be able to explore cs in an academic setting, potentially pursuing something in the field of digital humanities or compling for a phd eventually. but mainly, i want to be doing something at work that feels like i'm learning and improving on a craft. i've been wanting to study cs formally for a while now.

and i want to acknowledge that rising feeling of betrayal. that yes, i am a lit person and i have studied lit, but it's ok to study something else too. i'm not turning my back on my appreciation for writing just because i'm curious about another field. not a sellout, because i'm not pursuing it just for potential future financial reward.

and it's okay to have desires and curiosity shaped by the world around me and its demands. i don't have to go off into a sensory deprivation chamber like siddhartha to discover who i am.

we're closing in on a deal for the house. ordered some furniture to come in next month. i want the interior to be japandi, and he's fine with that. it's amazing how we've managed to stuff all our belongings in a tiny room so far. but again, i haven't been earning any money so there has been no possibility of buying anything.

right now i want to be financially comfortable enough to not panic and worry everyday. be able to pay council tax, finance a car and get a dog. so any job is okay. minimum wage is a pretty good deal, compared to sg.

and if working here is anything like i've experienced at volunteering so far, it will be far less abusive and unsettling than working in singapore.

i get heat headaches these days because it's summer. i sneeze when in pain, and my face feels clogged up so i know it's a sinus headache. these headaches are so often now that it's hot in the afternoon. and i'm acknowledging how much i've suffered in sg heat. it only gets up to 27 degrees so far. today was 25. the way the building traps heat doesn't help but still. i really did suffer in singapore.

so the past week has been spent applying on jobs (i used indeed this time and got a bunch of responses), helping out at the bookstore, panic scrolling reddit, finally settling around evenings to watch dougoug live or on yt. ainan and i have been watching black books, which is enjoyable.

the evenings are a relief as the temperature drops to around 20 degrees and i sit by the open window. i feel better when the sun's out, almost like i'm permitted to breathe better.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 33

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: assault, swearing, trauma, tones of ptsd 

A/N: this chapter is heavy with prominent mentions of assault. if that triggers you, please skip this chapter. 

NEXT CHAPTER

She stood in the middle of the set, surrounded by bright lights as the cast and staff moved around to change the setting of the set design. There was nothing she could really feel and she felt herself almost out of her own body, the lack of sleep weighing not only on her eye bags but on her brain and ability to properly function. She felt she was watching herself out of her own body, watching as she dragged herself from scene to scene, almost changing into a completely different person when the cameras were on. It was mechanical, an ability of someone who’d been acting since she was a child. She slipped in and out of her own consciousness, almost knowing everything with a sharp eye but ignoring it. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t sleep. Any news that appeared regarding HYDRA or criminal organisations were always a trigger to keep her up at night. The silence itself was a trigger. Every blank letter she would get would send her into a spiral, every knock on her door. Wherever she turned, either Bucky or however haunted her seemed to surge. Except this time, Bucky wasn’t around. Sharon was but she couldn’t help to think something was off. 

Two weeks. 

Something was off.

She was no super soldier and she was no agent so all she could do was merely put a smile and say “nothing” whenever they asked her if something was wrong. Not that they asked, she was a good actress after all so to everyone else, even Sharon, she was peachy keen, with the same shy smile she always had on set. After all, this was the place she could be anyone but herself. Anna, the character she was playing, was so far removed from her own personality that whatever she felt seemed to dissipate mid takes. Yet, there was no comfort in becoming someone else, becoming someone who was so one dimensional she’d rather be back in her mind. Wherever she turned, she felt trapped, shackled by the weight of her own thoughts. There was nothing she could do. 

     - CUT! It’s a wrap everyone. - the bright lights dimmed as a ‘pop’-like sound removed her from her own dazed consciousness. She clung onto her own arms, turning around with a quickened heartbeat which slowed down as she realised it was merely a bottle of champagne which was now being half poured into flutes and half poured onto the floor. Yet, all she could hear was a buzzing in her ears.

She stood in the middle of everything, almost like a movie shot. Things moved fast but she knew they moved slowly and she remained there, in the middle of the shot, listening to everything as if she were underwater. Everyone was celebrating, drinking and laughing out loud but she couldn’t hear anything. Just a buzz. That’s all she could hear. The buzz and the sound of the wind bustling her dress. 

     - Y/N? - Sharon moved through the crowd, knowing way too well what was happening. She had seen it before. She carefully put her hand just slightly over her shoulder, not touching her but anyone would sense it. - Can you breathe in and out?

    - Huh? - she was once again pulled out into her body and suddenly everything was just too fast, everything was just too loud as if someone had pressed the forward button on an old VHS tape. Her eyes moved side to side as her own hand pressed against her chest, a forceful reminder to feel her own heart beat. - Yeah, hum, I just need a break.

    - That’s fine. - Sharon nodded her head and started to guide her out the middle of the set; however, a much familiar sound of heels hitting the gravel halted those plans. The she was, always board in hands. - Move. 

    - You’re needed. - Ms. Olson pointed at the actress in front of her with her pen. - The director wants to speak to you. 

    - Yeah, that’s fine. - Y/N pulled a fake smile. There was no use putting a fight, she had already done so and something told her not to stray too far off the cage they had put her in. She knew that with Bucky gone and Sharon under the cover she was one of her old university classmates which had settled down in New York as a stage manager, she had no protection, at least no personal protection. What she had belonged to the agency and if she toed out of line, she’d be left to fend for herself. She could barely look at the mail without shivering, much less fend for herself. She was a short woman, anyone taller than her could easily overpower her and that was the sad truth.

Once again, she found herself out of her body, watching as she walked the gravel with Ms. Olson to the trailer belonging to the director. Y/N was tired, she had no intention of wanting to speak to anyone, all she wanted to do was try to sleep yet here she was knocking on the door of the man she had learned to stray away from. The door was opened by his assistant, a small woman barely in her twenties, couldn’t be much younger than 5 years from Y/N, who had an almost meek look to her, hunched back even. Before Y/N could ask her what was wrong, the director, Mr. Powell, was already yelling out for the assistant to leave and for Y/N to come already.  The girl stepped out and closed the door behind Y/N, leaving the two of them inside his trailer. It was grimy with papers and open bottles everywhere and the stench of smoke was thick in the air. It was almost comical, cartoonish even how it looked as if a cartoon, over exaggerated version of a 70′s movie director. 

   - Sit down. - he pointed to the spot on the brown couch near him. She was hyper aware of everything as she sat down on the couch, yet living a big space between the two of them. - You almost ruined my shot today with those puffy eyes, darling. 

    - I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been having some personal issues, I thought they would’ve de puffed by today. 

    - I’ve heard. - he took a puff of his cigarette which laid in the middle of his calloused fingers, laying against the couch rest as if he were on top of the world, when he was merely as much of an unknown as she was. He was no famous director, he wasn’t even a good one. - I thought you were missing your shadow. Where is he anyway? Lost his mind again? You know, darling, I’m always worried about you. I mean once a killer, always a killer, right?

    - ... You’re pathetic. - it came out of her lips without her even noticing it. She stared at him with a lack of respect few people saw yet as quickly as she said those words, she was pined down against the brown leather of the couch. She could feel the cracked leather against the skin of her neck. His hand gripped her throat, hard, cutting her air flow and keeping her against the couch cushions. 

   - You ungrateful little bitch. - Y/N started kicking her feet, trying to somehow roll over on the floor. - I gave you the best role, put up with you not losing any weight and looking like any average shopping girl and how do you repay me? By being a whore? 

She continued to kick her legs up in down so fast it had already started to tire her muscles. Her hands clawed at his face, leaving scratch marks which were sure to remain red and angry on his cheeks. 

   - I’m gonna give you some advice, darling. You wanna get ahead? Start whoring yourself for someone other than your boyfriend.

His hands left her neck and he returned to sit down where the place where he had been, as if he hadn’t just chocked her against the couch pillows. Y/N got up from the couch and bolted towards the door, pulling it open and climbing down the stairs, noticing the assistant was in front of them. Same meek look, yet Y/N continued to charge away from the set villa until she stopped on the sidewalk, sitting down as she watched the traffic in front of her. The weather was cloudy and dark yet somehow the cars lights made it brighter and it hurt her head. It hurt her head too much. The smell of fog and the bright lights hide her away as she tucked her head in the middle of her knees, chest going up and down yet no tears rolled down her face. 

     - Hey ... - Sharon sat by her side. - Let’s go home, yeah? 

The fog merely thickened and lowered, covering the whole of New York in a somber mood. The wind itself was also fast and freezing and as Bucky stepped inside government headquarters, the mood as just as somber. The lights were yellow yet everything had a weird green-like tinge. Everyone was mechanically induced into their own work yet he was hyper aware of everything. Two weeks. Two weeks to bring in a HYDRA general and a senator which were sure to buy their own bail and go back and all he could say and think was he was tired. James “Bucky” Barnes was tired and worn down. 

He strutted towards the interviewing room where Agent Cox and Doctor Raynor were. It was nothing new to him, it was always the same; he would return from whatever assignment had been given to him and be questioned on it by whatever agent was looking over the case and then had a “therapy” session with Doctor Raynor. It was never to check if he was alright, or at least it barely was. They just wanted to see him, to see the Winter Soldier was still inactivated. He understood that yet that didn’t mean he particularly liked it.

He told the agent all he wanted know, from where he had found the two he had just brought in, to some background info. There wasn’t much to say and when he was done, he was left with Doctor Raynor. He stood against his metal chair, convinced to get this over and done with so he could go back to Brooklyn. Back to her. 

    - How are you, James?

    - I’m good, doc. Can I go now? 

    - James, that’s not how this works. You should know that by now. - she opened her notebook. Great. - Tell me about the mission.

    - It was an extraction, mission. No one got hurt. - lies. He had gotten hurt, he had taken a pretty harsh blow to his cheekbone which was developing into a nasty purple bruise, yet, that was not who they were questioning him about. If he had gotten hurt, it didn’t matter. - No nightmares either. 

    - Are you lying to me, James?

    - No, I just want to get out of here. I haven’t seen my girlfriend in two weeks. 

    - Tell me about your girlfriend. - she closed the notebook, almost as if this was off book yet he knew that nothing was off book. Not for him. Everyone has the right to privacy but the Winter Soldier. - What’s her name? 

    - Y/N. 

    - How old is she? 

    - Younger than me. 

    - No need to be hostile, James.

    - No need to ask me about my love life, doc. 

    - Any big fights? Any ... problems regarding your condition? Healthy sex life?

    - Are you asking me if I abuse my girlfriend? - his blood boiled yet he tried to keep cool. He knew an anger outbreak would only keep him in this session for longer than he wanted. Despite this, he chose to get up and leave the room. 

He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear those accusations, he didn’t even want to think about it. Bucky did not like the idea of the Winter Soldier and Y/N together. He didn’t want to merge those two worlds together. The Winter Soldier was someone, a part of him which he didn’t fully understand and he didn’t want Y/N together with it. No, Bucky wanted Y/N to only see whatever bit of kindness, whatever few bits of goodness lied within him. He didn’t want her to the Winter Soldier’s girlfriend. He knew he didn’t deserve her and that title only further reminded him. 

He continued to be lost in his head, those questions running through his mind as he unlocked the door only to be met with Sharon pointing her gun at him. She lowered her gun once she realised who it was that stood in the entrance, putting the gun back in between her jeans and her shirt. 

   - Two weeks? That was long. 

   - Not my fault, Sharon. - Bucky dropped his duffel bag to the floor. - How is she?

   - Not good. - Sharon crossed her arms. - You have to tell her things, James. C’mon, you can do that with me and Steve and maybe even Sam. We know them, we’ve been in missions before but she doesn’t. 

   - Spare me this.

   - She barely slept while you gone, James. God, are you so afraid she’ll stop loving you if you tell her about the Winter Soldier that you’d rather her live in constant anxiety every time you have to leave?

    - I won’t have to leave. 

Sharon scoffed, grabbing her jacket from the coat hanger.

    - Do you seriously believe that, James? 

    - Since when do you care about Y/N?

    - Stop being your worse enemy, James. She deserves to know.

God, she sure was awful now, Bucky thought to himself as Sharon left probably to return to Steve. The flat was intact, things were just as he had left them and everything was quiet except for the TV in the living room. Their bedroom door was slightly opened, probably so Sharon could keep an eye on Y/N. He took his shoes off so his steps wouldn’t alarm her and walked into the bedroom. She was there, in the bed, laying on her side, sleeping peacefully. Bucky walked up to her side of the bed, leaning down to kiss her forehead. 

She stirred in her sleep, eyes slowly opening as Bucky began to shush her, trying to make sure she went back to sleep. Last thing he had wanted was to awake her up.

    - Bucky? - she held herself onto one arm, the other hand coming to rub the sleep off her eyes. Once the blurriness dissipated and she confirmed it was indeed her Bucky, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, almost knocking him into the bed.

Bucky melted in her touch, burying his nose in her hair, sensing the scent of vanilla from her shampoo and the warmth of her skin. This was home, not Brooklyn but her. She was home, she felt like home. She pulled away from the hug for a bit to examine him, her fingers brushing the bruise on his cheekbone.

    - What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?

    - I’m fine. It’s just the bruise, Y/N. 

    - I’ll get some ice. - she prepared to get out of bed but he pushed her back on it. She felt onto his chest and he held her against him with one arm. What he did not expect was to see how uncomfortable she became at the inability to move. He was used to playing around with her, rolling around or having her on top of his chest. 

   - What’s wrong, princess?

   - Nothing ... - she shook her head. - I just missed you. I was afraid you were hurt or you were dead. 

   - I’m not hurt, I’m here. 

   - You’re staying, right? - she questioned, rolling to his side of the bed, laying on his side. - You’re not here just to visit.

   - Yeah, I’m staying, princess. - he caressed her cheek, leaning his forehead against hers. Sharon’s words, however, kept pulling at him. She loved him, he knew she loved him. Right? 

   - You’re making the face.

   - What face?

   - Your thinking face. - she cuddled against him, fingers softly pulling his chin down so he was looking at her. - What are you thinking about?

   - You love me, right? - he probably sounded insecure, he could hear himself sounding insecure, his voice cracking. She cocked her head to the side before raising her fingers to trace his jaw. 

   - Of course I do. You think I’d be marrying you if I didn’t love you?

   - I wanted to hurt them. - he blurted. - I wanted to torture them. Both of them.

   - Who?

   - Every time they send me to any of these assignments. Make amends ... I wanna hurt those people, I wanna hurt them like they hurt me and I hate it.

   - Buck ...

   - I’m ... I wanna be a good person, Y/N. I wanna be good. - he shut his eyes tightly. - And I’m not. 

   - It does not make you a bad person to want to hurt you hurt you, to want revenge. You do not act on it and that’s the difference. You’re not a bad person, Bucky. 

   - You’re the only person who thinks that. 

   - Doesn’t matter. - she smiled at him, softly kissing him. - I’m not expecting you just to move on and let it go. It’s part of your life and it’s part of you and I love you. All bad and all good, I love you. 

   - Maybe you need a better judgement. 

   - I have the best judgment between the both of us. I have no thrown myself off a plane without a parachute. 

   - That can’t be your way of winning arguments. 

   - It is my way of winning arguments. - she giggled at him. - Let’s just go to sleep. 

The night seemed short, way too short but it did not matter because both of them were there. It was calm, too calm until a harsh knock had both of them wake up from her slumber, the morning barely bright yet there was already some light. Y/N clung onto his arm as another harsh knock was delivered against his door. Bucky moved slowly to take his gun from under the bed before he walked out the bedroom, putting his gun behind his back as he opened the door. The police stood in front of him, quite a few of them. Way too many.

   - James Buchanan Barnes, you are under arrest for the alleged harassment and stalking of Miss Y/N Y/L/N.

taglist: @disasterbi​ @lookiamtrying​ @buckysteveloki-me​ @americasass81​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @lostinthebeans​ @mariahthelioness29​ @oh-nohoney​ @peaches-roses-sins​ @theadorasabditory​ @sipsteacasually​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @booktease21​ @noiralei​ @learisa​ @everythingisoverratedbutgreat​ @uglipotata72829​ @naturalthrone22​ @husherstan​ @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624​ @newyorkgoddess​ @itsallyscorner​ @chipilerendi​ @emzd34 @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @niki-is-a-thing​ @cynic-spirit​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​

[noladyme]

You and Me makes Three - Part 1

Lyla moved to San Fransisco for work, and for a fresh start. The standoffish guy across the hall of her sublet peaks her interest in more ways than one; and when he finally opens up, she jumps at the chance to get to know him; and whatever it is his dark secret is.

Eddie Brock x OC Lyla

TW: smut and fluff

1.

I’d found the sublet on craigslist; which I came to regret, when meeting the current tenant. Ziggy – as the guy called himself – turned out to be a long haired ultra-deuche; who’d spent most of our first meeting looking down my top, and talking about his upcoming tour of Illinois, with his band; Dirty Riders. I’d had my share of adventures with guys in bands; but in Ziggy’s case, I could literally smell the perfume from the chick he’d probably banged the night before.

After spending 20 minutes trying to distract me from the task at hand; I finally got him back on track, and we’d come to an agreement on the rent for the 3 months I’d be using his place. It was steep, but after having landed the job at a private school – and having been asked to start the week after – I needed a home; if only temporarily, while I looked for something else.

With most of my stuff in storage; all I had with me the day I was supposed to move in, was a couple of suitcases; and three boxes of essentials – like my books, pens and notes. And of course, my computer – my lifeline.

The neighborhood wasn’t the greatest; so, when I realized the door phone wasn’t working, and the Zigster wasn’t answering his cell, I was lightly panicking. I was standing alone on a street in a new city; with my most valued belongings, and no way to get out of there; as the cab that had brought me, took off as soon as the driver got my last box out of the trunk.

I kept calling Ziggy, and pounding the button for the apartment; but nothing came of it. I sat down on the doorstep, and was just about ready to cry; when a guy in his 30’s, wearing a casual leather jacket, walked up to the door with a key. “Excuse me”, he muttered, pulling out his keys. I looked up at him. It was hard making out his eye-color – blues, greens and browns meshed together to make a color all of its own. I found myself caught up in trying to distinguish the different shades in them; when I realized that he was about to unlock the door, and walk in.

“Hey”, I said. “Do you live here?”. He sent me a friendly but reserved smile; making me also notice his full lips; and the way his front teeth were just a little bit crooked – just enough to make him look interesting. “Yeah”, he said. “I do… Can I help you?”. I let out a relieved smile. “I live here too”, I said. “Or, I’m supposed to… I’m subletting from Ziggy”. He raised his brows. “You’re a friend of Ziggys?”. “Not exactly”, I scoffed. “He’s leaving town for a few months, and is letting me use his place… but the door-phone isn’t working, and he isn’t picking up his cell”.

The man seemed to be having an internal dialogue, before coming to a conclusion. “Yeah. Ok… come on in”. “Thank you!”, I smiled; almost crying in relief. I picked up my suitcases, as he unlocked the door, and carried them inside; after which I got the first two boxes – the man holding the door for me. I thought I heard him mutter “Fine!” under his breath, before he stepped outside, grabbing the last box for me. “Oh crap! Careful, that’s heavy”, I managed to say; before he groaned from the weight of the many books, I’d stored in it. “Shit, no kidding”, he grunted.

He put the box down just inside the door. “Do you need help up the stairs?”, he asked; obviously hoping for me to say no. I smiled and shook my head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks!”, I said. I stuck out my hand to shake his, and told him my name. “I’m Eddie”, he answered. “I guess we’re neighbors. I live across the hall from Ziggy”. “Thanks for the help, Eddie”, I grinned. “I’m Lyla… by the way”. “Nice to meet you”, he muttered. He walked up the stairs, sending me an inquisitive look over his shoulder.

Five trips up and down the stairs later; I finally had all my things outside Ziggys door. I tried calling him again; and heard a phone ring behind the door. You’ve got to be kidding me! I banged the door. “Ziggy! I’m here”, I yelled. “Open up, you dick”, I added, below my breath. I looked behind me, at what was apparently Eddies door; and saw something move behind the peephole.

I banged the door again. “Ziggy?”. Someone coughed and moved around some stuff behind the door; and Ziggy finally opened; looking at me with a seriously hungover expression. “Fuck. What’s today?”, he rasped. “Wednesday”, I said exasperatedly. His eyes widened. “Shit, beautiful. I’m so sorry!”, he said smilingly. “Come one in!”. “My name is Lyla”, I reminded him, and stepped in behind him. “Lyla-licious”, Ziggy sniggered; making me want to barf violently.

The studio apartment was, if possible, worse than I had imagined. A heavy smell of incense, weed and stale beer hung over the room; and a collection of bongs shaped like female torsos sat on a shelf. Ziggy had decorated the wall over his bed with posters of his own band.

Ziggy scrambled to get his things together. Apparently, he’d not packed up his things for the upcoming tour of steakhouses, coffeeshops and dive-bars throughout Illinois. “Let me just get this…”, he smirked at me; before rubbing himself as close as possible to me to get to a pack of xxl-condoms on a shelf in the kitchen area. “You know, if you need it, you’re welcome to hang around after I get back”. “I’m gonna be pretty focused on getting something permanent set up”, I smiled; swallowing bile. “Absolutely, yeah. That’s so cool”, he said; leaning against the counter I was standing by. “Just let me know, ok?”. He put his hand on my shoulder, and squeezed it. “Sure…”, I said, and stepped back; going to check out the rest of the space.

It was one room – combined livingspace/bedroom/kitchen. A small bathroom with – thank God! – a bathtub; which was going to need some serious cleaning before I’d even put a foot in it. But it was mine… at least for the next three months. It’s not a lot, I thought to myself. But I can work with this.

Ziggy seemed to have his stuff packed up; and was standing in the doorway to the small bathroom; blocking my exit. He had a guitarcase casually hanging from one shoulder. “So… I’m ready to go”, he smirked. I nodded and half smiled. “Keys?”, I said. “Right. Here…”. He handed me a set of keys “If I get any mail…”. “I’ll let you know; once a week, like we agreed”. “Yeah”, he smirked and nodded; looking me over like I was edible. “So, I’ll call you?”. I swallowed bile again. “Yup”, I said, and reached out my hand to shake his. He took it; and held on to it; letting his thumb stroke my fingers. I will tear off your arm if you don’t let go, I thought to myself.

“Take care, Lyla”, he said; and winked at me; before finally moving away from the doorframe; and grabbing his bags to leave. “Shit, I forgot. The guy across the hall… he’s kind a of weird. Be careful, ok?”. “Sure…”, I muttered, and walked after him to the door, closing it behind him. I let out an audible sigh of relief, and put on the door chain.

---

I opened the windows, and got to cleaning. An old ashtray shaped like an avocado, turned out to be an actual shell of an avocado; and for the third time that day, I almost vomited. Riffling through some old dusty cd’s of Ziggys, I found a Fleetwood Mac album. “Yes!”, I cried out. At least you have that going for you, Ziggy, I thought – until I realized he’d never unwrapped the cellophane around the cover. I unwrapped it myself, put on the album; and skipped to my favorite song; singing along to the lyrics. “… well, I’ve been afraid of changing, ‘cuz I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older…”.

Someone knocked on the door. For a second, I was afraid Ziggy had changed his mind about touring, and had come back. I opened the door slightly, leaving the chain on. Outside stood Eddie. “Hi”, I said cautiously. He seemed warmer. “Hey. I think you dropped this in the hallway”. He was holding one of my notebooks. I unlatched the chain, and opened the door fully, taking the book from him. “Weird”, I said. “I could swear I’d packed it in the bottom of one of the boxes”. Eddie smiled nervously. “Well… maybe it jumped out”, he said. “Maybe”, I chuckled. “Thanks”.

He lingered. “The music…”, he said. “I’m sorry. Is it too loud?”, I asked. He shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine”, he said. “Just different than what usually comes out of this apartment”. I laughed. “Yeah… The Zigster seems to have a very specific taste”. “Yeah?”, Eddie smiled. “You should see his collection”, I said. He nodded and smiled crookedly. “Maybe… sometime”.

I noticed the door to his apartment was open. It seemed like the mirror opposite of mine. Just less disgusting. I met Eddies eyes. I still couldn’t figure out the color of them – all I could conclude was that they were… kind. I would have lost myself in them, if he hadn’t turned to walk back into his own place. “Uhm, Eddie?”, I said. He looked at me again. “Could you point me in the direction of a good… grocery store?”. Idiot… He scratched his head. “Yeah, I mean… I do most my shopping at Mrs. Chens, down the street”, he said. “Just don’t tell her you know me. She’ll try to sell you meditation tapes and scented candles”. I laughed. “A scented candle wouldn’t hurt this place”, I said. “Ziggy left behind some pretty gnarly smells”. He laughed. “He’s a… special guy”. Our eyes met again for a moment. Eddie seemed to want to say something else, but then his eyes moved, as if he was listening to something. “I gotta go”, he said; and went into his apartment, closing the door. He's strange, I thought. But something inside me wanted to figure him out.

---

The next few days went by without much happening. I finally finished cleaning my new living-space – except for the mattress. I couldn’t get myself to sleep on it, after I’d taken of the old bedding left behind by Ziggy; and finding quite a few stains I didn’t even want to touch with rubber-gloves – so I’d slept on the couch so far.

Once, I’d run in to Eddie by the mail slots; exchanging a friendly helloand a smile. He seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the door, carrying a messenger-bag and a motorcycle helmet. I noticed him opening his own slot. It had E. Brock, written with bold letters on it. Watching him walk away down the hall to the door; I couldn’t help but bite my lip and smile. He moved like he was late for something; but at the same time didn’t want anyone to tell him when he was supposed to get there. Like some kind of internal struggle, I just wanted to unwrap and explore.

Saturday morning, I woke up early for once, craving coffee and carbs. I had neither of those things in the kitchen; so, I got dressed in my favorite jeans and a light, loose t-shirt, to head out and track something down. As I was still new to San Francisco, I wasn’t sure about how the weather would be in October. I brought my short leather jacket. Just in case. I put a notebook and a pen in my shoulder-bag, and was off.

Outside the building I grabbed a free paper to have something to read. I took a streetcar towards the Mission District; enjoying the sunshine and smells from food carts we passed. Hunger was about to take me over; and I opened my paper, to distract myself. The headlines were mostly fluff stories and ads; except for a couple on the murder of a local politician, and animal attacks by the harbor. Some drug dealers had been found with their heads bitten clean off. I winced at the thought; before turning the page, and a new header caught my eye.

Home robberies in Downtown Oakland – Gangs or criminals on city payroll? - Story by Eddie Brock.

I was surprised for a second. He didn’t strike me as a journalist in the traditional sense.

The story was mostly an opinion piece, but was based heavily on facts he’d dug up from interviews with victims, and homeless youth in the area of the robberies. Eddie was questioning the arrests made on young gang members for the crimes; and in stead suggesting that city-leadership was paying crime syndicates to commit the robberies, to be able to gentrify the area. If he was right; this was a big story; so, I was finding it strange to see the story in a free newspaper.

I arrived near Mission Dolores Park; having read about a nice, upmarket coffee shop there; with donuts that the blogger had written were to absolutely die for. They turned out to be less so. After standing in line for 30 minutes; I was handed a stale cup of organically sourced, fairtrade coffee; and a donut that was hard enough to break a window. Stepping outside the shop; I decided to give it a chance; and bit in to it – instantly almost choking on the floury consistency of the pastry.

“They’re not very good, are they…”. I turned to face Eddie; standing with an amused smile on his face. “Nope”, I answered, and spat out the donut-bite into a napkin. “Sorry…”, I said embarrassedly. “No worries”, he chuckled. “If I’d known you were coming here, I’d have told you. They’re vegan…”. I raised my brows at him. “Shit, sorry! Are you vegan?”, he asked. “No”, I shook my head and chuckled. “But I’ve for sure had better vegan food than this”. He sighed and seemed to ponder something. “Come on”, he said, and gestured for me to follow him.

We walked down a narrow street; passing smaller shops and street vendors – some of which seemed to know Eddie, and sent him friendly nods. “You’re popular around here”, I said; walking next to him. He chuckled in response. “I dunno. I prefer buying from smaller shops. Personal touch, you know?”. “I get it”, I said. “Locally sourced, and eco-friendly; right?”. He shrugged. “Something like that”.

He stopped by a small storefront; displaying pride-flags and caricatures of politicians in the window. I knew already that I would like this place. The man behind the counters face lit up. “Yo, Ed! Back so soon, man?”, he grinned. “I know you got that parasite thing, but seriously…”. Eddie looked uncomfortable for a second. “Yeah, Don… this is my new neighbor”. He introduced me, avoiding my eyes. “She went to La Boulange”. Don inhaled sharply through his teeth. “Yikes… New in town?”, he asked. I chuckled and nodded. “Coffee black?”, Eddie asked me. I nodded. “Give us two blacks and a couple of glazed yeast”. “I’ll add some sprinkles for the lady”, Don winked friendlily. Eddie groaned. “Just… don’t make them the green ones”, he said. “I was high for 12 hours straight last time”. I laughed out loud.

We left the store; Eddie politely having paid for our coffees and donuts. Through the window I saw Don point at me, and give Eddie the thumbs up and a wink. “He’s a character”, I smiled. “He sure is”, Eddie answered. His voice was deliciously raspy, and watching him speak I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trouble his lips could get in to with mine. I had to shake myself out of the thought. “Thanks for this”, I said. “You haven’t tasted it yet”, he said.

I bit in to my pastry. It was carb-heaven in my mouth. “Oh. Oh my God!”, I said, mouth full. “I know, right?”, Eddie smiled. I raised my brows and nodded fiercely. “It’s why I go out of my way to come here every morning”. “Don’t journalists work all over?”, I asked, covering my mouth with my hand, as I was still chewing. He scrunched his brows at me in question. I pulled out the newspaper from my bag. “Oh, yeah”, he said. “I do freelance stuff mostly; but I have a position at a newspaper downtown. Used to write for The Globe”. “New York?”, I asked. “So, why move to San Francisco?”. He shrugged. “I lost the position for… being what I am. An honest reporter”.

I half smiled. “So, a new life”. “Yeah, and a girl”, he admitted. “My fiancée”. My heart dropped; and I did my best not to show it on my face. “Oh! You’re engaged? That’s great!”. “Not really”, chuckled. “I messed that up too… by being what I am”. “An honest reporter…”, I muttered. “And at times a little too cutthroat about it”. He sighed. “It’s good though. She’s good. I’m good. We’re good”.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why am I telling you all this stuff?”, he said and laughed. “Are you sure you’renot a reporter?”. “Nah. I’m just an elementary schoolteacher”, I said. “I do write, though. But not articles”. “What?”, he said earnestly. I shook my head. “Another time. I’m sure you have somewhere to be”. He looked at his watch. “Shit, yeah!”, he said. “Sorry, I gotta run”. “It’s fine. Thanks again”.

He nodded and smiled. “You take care, teach’”, he said. “See you around”. He walked away; scratching his head, and looking back at me a couple of times. I took my time enjoying my donut and coffee; and walked in the opposite direction. Eddie – Be still my beating heart.

---

I spent the rest of the morning trying to map out the best way to and from work. As I was starting the next Monday morning, the nerves were getting to me. They’re just 5-yearolds, I kept telling myself. 5-yearolds attending a private school funded by their very rich parents; and some pretty serious sponsors from Silicon Valley. And me without my degree from MIT…

I stopped at Mrs. Chens for some light groceries. Although I’d loved Don’s donuts – and his coffee had been heavenly – I was to anxious to see myself making my way all the way to the Mission District the next day; and I always needed caffeine and access to some kind of breakfast in the morning. The lady behind the counter – Chen, I assumed – seemed nice, though a bit standoffish; and quickly checked out my coffee, bacon, eggs, cheese; and other essentials. “You’re new here”, she said. “How did you know?”, I asked. “I usually only get regulars”, she answered, and narrowed her eyes at me. “I moved in down the street. My neighbor recommended your shop”, I smiled. “Who?”, she demanded. “Eddie…”, I answered timidly. Her face instantly became warmer. “He’s a good boy”, she said. “Tell him to pic up my cousins latest cd. It’ll do him good. As well as his parasite”. That parasite thing again. Weird. I thanked her, grabbed my stuff; and left the store.

I made my way back to the apartment; cranked up the Fleetwood, and danced it out for a while. I’d always done that; when I needed to get something out of my system. It was better than drinking myself into oblivion – and I was out of whiskey.

I was completely oblivious to anything around me, when I heard someone clear their throat. I turned around, arms in the air; and almost died from embarrassment. The door was open; and in the opening stood Eddie.

“Sorry, it was open”, he said; trying to stifle a smile. “Ziggy had a crazy ex kick it down once. It’s always needed an extra push and pull to close properly, since then”. I nodded, blushing. He held up a carton of eggs. “Chen said you forgot this”, he said. “Thanks…”, I said, taking the pack from him. I grimaced. “So… this is embarrassing”. He laughed. “What? The eggs, or the dancing?”, he chuckled. “Ha, ha. Laugh it out”, I said, stifling a smile. “I was enjoying the view”, he said; and glint to his eyes – before grimacing himself. “Sorry… that was… probably crossing a line”. “It’s fine… you’re fine…”, I said; realizing what I’d just said. “Good, I mean. Shit… I do this to clear my head, sometimes. Dance. It relaxes me”.

He laughed. “I just got back from… a thing”, he said. “I need to clear my head a bit as well. Was gonna take a ride up to Coit Tower”. I smiled; my blushing beginning to fade. “That sounds nice”, I smiled. He exhaled. “Yeah… do you wanna come?”. My jaw dropped. “Uh… yeah. Sure. I’d like that”, I said. What the hell, Eddie? Are you asking me out? “Great”, he smiled. “I was gonna take my bike; are you good with that?”. “I don’t have a bike”, I said. He chuckled. “Not that kind of bike”. Right. The motorcycle helmet. “And now I feel like an idiot”, I muttered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve met the biggest idiots in media, politics and sports; and you look nothing like them”, he said. “You do look like someone who needs to get out of this place for a while”. I smiled; grabbed my jacket; and followed him out the door – making sure it was properly shut behind me.

Eddie grabbed two helmets from his apartment; giving me another chance peak into his place. It smelled nice. Like tater tots and musky cologne. I didn’t know why, but suddenly it was my favorite smell. “Let’s go”, Eddie said; handing me one of the helmets; and we made our way down the stairs.

Outside the building stood a motorcycle. It was clearly well cared for. Eddie got on it, and put on his helmet; gesturing for me to get on behind him. “You should hold on”, he said. I searched for something to grab; and he took my wrists; pulling my arms around his waist. Wow. Ok. Firm. “You good?”, he asked. “Yeah”, I squeaked. He chuckled behind his helmet. “Sit tight, teach’”. He started the bike, and revved the engine; before taking off. “Oh my God”, I yelped; feeling his body shake in laughter in front of me.

I was convinced he took the steepest roads; scaring the shit out of me for the first few miles – before I finally got comfortable behind him. I relaxed my body; and let myself enjoy the view of the city in the dusk – and how close I was to Eddies warm body. I felt his calm breathing; and matched it – soon feeling completely relaxed. We hit a bump, making the bike jump a bit; and I laughed in glee; hearing him laugh along with me.

The drive was over way to soon for my liking. We’d made our way up Telegraph hill; and I got off the bike, taking of my helmet. “You liked that, huh?”, Eddie grinned at me. “Yeah, it was fun!”, I smiled. He looked at me; almost in wonder. “Was that your first time on a bike?”. “I tried it once, for like five minutes; when I was a kid, but kind of. Yeah”, I admitted. “I couldn’t tell”, he smirked sarcastically. I frowned in mock annoyance. “Shut up”, I said. “You’ve never had a better passenger”. He laughed. “Yeah… come on”.

The sun was going down; and we were too late for tickets to get up the tower; but Eddie seemed unfazed. “There’s a good view over here”, he said; putting his hand on my lower back, to lead me over to a railing. “You gonna push me over this thing?”, I joked. “Nah, would be a poor move for a first date”, he said. I looked at him. “This is a date?”, I smiled. He seemed to have an internal dialogue. “I… don’t know”, he said. “Do you want it to be?” I bit my lip. “Let’s see how good this view is; and I’ll let you know”.

The view was stunning. I could see both the lights of the city as well as the Golden Gate bridge. My jaw dropped at the sight. “Wow…”. Eddie looked at me. “Yeah, it’s pretty special”, he said.

I stepped towards the binoculars; searing my pockets for change. “I don’t have a quarter!”, I heard Eddie whisper. “It’s fine”, I smiled at him. “I can see pretty clear anyway”. He looked me, caught off guard. “Yeah. Sorry…”. I leant against the railing. “I could fall in love with this city”, I proclaimed. Eddie smiled warmly at me, walking up next to me – close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body.

We looked at the views for a while, talking about this and that. I told Eddie about my hometown, and how I’d loved it as well. “So, why did you decide to come here”. “It’s a long story”, I muttered. “Come on, I’ve already seen you dance!”, he chuckled. “You don’t like my dancing?”, I gasped in jest. He smiled. “You really put the oogie in the boogie”, he said. “You’re the most graceful elephant in a porcelain shop, I’ve ever seen”. “So now I’m an elephant?”, I raised a brow at him. He grimaced. “I walked right in to that”, he muttered. “Sorry…”. I smiled at him in forgiveness. “Seriously though. Why’d you make the move?”

I couldn’t help myself. I had to mess with him. “It’s embarrassing”, I said. He smiled encouragingly. “Ever since I was a kid… I’ve always wanted to act. Be in the big movies”. His lips parted, and he looked really uncomfortable. I continued. “So… I decided to give it a shot. Come here; and be near Hollywood, you know?”. I smiled earnestly. “I think I’ve finally got a shot; now that the studios are just down the street”. Eddie looked genuinely sorry for me. “Lyla… I don’t…”, he began. “Eddie…”, I smiled. “I’m kidding”. He exhaled in relief. “Thank God. I really didn’t want to be the one to tell you… You know?”. “I know”, I smirked. “’Cuz we’re a way off from Hollywood here”. I nodded. “About 400 miles. I realize that”. He began laughing, and shook his head. “Is this payback for the elephant thing?”, he said. I shrugged. “Maybe”, I smiled.

He bumped my shoulder with his own. “You’re bad news, darlin’!”, he laughed. “You’re not, though”, I answered. “Tell me; why did your article on those home robberies end up in a free newspaper, instead of some big ass media outlet?”. He sighed. “Not everyone wants to run the hard stories”, he said. “As long as it gets out there…”. I nodded. “I get it”, I said. “Besides, in a free paper the story will get a broader audience, right?”. He shrugged. “I hope so”, he said. “I think it’s an important story”. “Me too”, I agreed.

I told Eddie about my new job. “Private school?”, he grimaced. I laughed. “Yeah, I know”, I said. “Not very socially conscious of me. But the pay is good. And I needed a change”. “What made you move here? The truth this time”, he smiled. “It’s got to be more than the job. You don’t strike me as someone who does things just for money”. I chewed my lip. “I wasn’t in a very good place in my job, or my life”, I admitted.

He looked at me with warm eyes – the color even more indistinguishable in the dusk. I bit my lip; wanting desperately for something to happen. “How’s your head? A bit clearer?”, he said quietly. “Not really…”, I admitted. He let out a quiet laugh, and wrinkled his forehead. “Yeah, me neither”, he muttered. “Can I kiss you? I just feel like I should, you know...?”. I interrupted him by taking his hand. “Yes…”. He nodded and sighed in relief. “Ok. Then… I’m going to do that. Now”. I chuckled; and laced my fingers with his. He stepped closer; putting a lock of my hair behind my ear; before placing his hand on my cheek; letting his thumb stroke my cheekbone. “I like your eyes…”, he said. “Stop talking, Eddie”, I smiled. “Ok”, he said; and finally let his full lips meet mine.

It was soft. Gentle. I parted my lips; letting the tip of my tongue meet his. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me close; and I slid my hands around his neck – letting my fingertips play with the hair there. He pulled his head back a bit; letting our foreheads meet. “You’re… something else”, he smiled. “Something good, I hope”, I answered. “Yeah”, he breathed. “Can I… just… one more time?”, he muttered; before pressing his lips to mine again. I chuckled against his kiss; and returned his enthusiasm. This time there was a bit more heat to our connection. He held on to me; making me stand flush against him. I felt a rush of blood to my core; and my breath hitched.

Someone cleared their throat. Our lips parted, and we saw that we we’re being watched by an elderly couple. “You kids should take that somewhere else”, one of the men said. I flushed red, and Eddie took my hand. “Yeah. Let’s… go”, he smiled.

---

Once back at our building, Eddie gave me a hand to get off his bike. We walked up the stairs together, and paused in front of our doors.

“Thanks for this”, I said. “I needed a distraction”. “I’m a distraction now?”, Eddie asked with a smirk. “A good one”, I chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. “Thanks for the… kissing part. I liked that”, he said. “I did too”, I said, before chewing my bottom lip for a moment. “We could do it again… If you want to”. Eddie looked relieved. “I really do”, he smiled, and took a step closer to me. I met him halfway, and leaned in to him, as he cupped my cheek, and our lips met. He took my bottom lip between his own; softly tugging it – and the repeated the process with the top one. My tongue brushed against his lips, and he met it with his own; letting them reacquaint themselves with each other.

Eddie put his arm around me, and I shivered in pleasure, as our hips met; and I felt his body’s very obvious reaction to our kiss. He let out a soft groan; a sound that sent electricity straight to my core. Grabbing on tighter to me, he almost had my knees give in. In spite of his normally withdrawn and almost aloof demeanor – which he’d relaxed somewhat, curing our evening together – he now seemed like he couldn’t get me close enough; almost hungry in his kiss. I was right there with him; ready to throw all inhibitions out the window, and let him take me in that hallway. I literally had to dig my nails in to my palm, to tear myself from the heated moment.

I put my hands on Eddie’s shoulders, and pushed him away as gently as I could. “I’m sorry… Did I hurt you?”, he asked, in a surprisingly concerned voice. “No, Eddie; I’m…”, I tried. “I don’t always know my own strength. I’ll be more careful…”. Eddie seemed unable to stop talking. I put my fingertips to his soft lips – for a short second considering slipping one into his mouth; just to feel him suck on it – and took a step back. “Eddie, you didn’t do anything wrong. Really!”, I smiled. “But, I have this rule… I don’t have sex on the first date”. Eddie’s eyes widened, and he took a step back himself. “No… Of course! I don’t want you to think, I see you as some kind of… I mean, if you were, there would be nothing wrong with that… People can enjoy sex, that’s completely normal… But I would never expect you to just…” I couldn’t help but smile at his flustered babbling, but in the end, I decided to put him out of his misery. I leaned in, and gave him a short kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight”, I said. “Yeah… goodnight, Lyla”, Eddie said. He watched me as I unlocked my door, and I gave him a final smile, before stepping inside, and closing it behind me.

I leaned against the wall, and sighed frustratedly. It felt like everything below my bellybutton was literally screaming at my brain, saying; open the door, and stop thinking so much, you stupid blob of fat and water! I want to play!. I peeked out of the peephole, and saw Eddie beginning to fish out his keys. He looked like he was having a frustrated conversation with himself. He turned and looked at my door, and I quickly pulled back from the peephole. “You’re being an idiot”, I whispered to myself.

Before I knew it had happened, I had opened my door. “Eddie…”. He dropped his keys in chock, and scrambled to pick them up. His jacket and shirt rode up slightly, letting me get a peek at his tattooed torso; only making my resolve stronger. “Yeah! Hey… Hi”, he said, and got up to stand again. “You know, when I said I’d let you know whether it was a date or not…”. “Yeah?”, Eddie muttered. I chewed my lip, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I decided it wasn’t a date… So, technically, I wouldn’t be breaking my rule”. Eddie looked confused for a moment, before his eyes lit up. “Oh… Oh! You mean…”. He seemed unable to finish the sentence; and I felt my cheeks beginning to burn. “I mean, unless you changed your mind”, I muttered. “No!”, Eddie said, taking a step towards me. “I’d like that”.

I let out a pleased sigh, and was even more relieved when Eddie decided to take the lead, and step over to me; instantly capturing my lips in a warm kiss. I put my arms around his neck, and let myself float away in the pleasurable sensations his soft, full lips sent through my body. I’d known this man for less than a week – I could hardly say that I knew him at all – but everything in that moment was perfect; as if we were made to do this. Eddie pressed me against the doorway to my apartment, and let out a guttural groan when I ran my nails through his short hair. He pressed his tongue into my mouth, and once again I relished in his taste.

I looked out the corner of my eye at the main living area of my sublet, and frowned. I pulled back slightly, to be able to speak. Eddie moved his kisses down to my neck, and I gasped audibly. “Eddie… Oh, god. That’s… No, stop!”, I rasped. He pulled back instantly, and met my eyes. “What?”, he asked. “The bed in there is kind of gnarly… Can we do this at your place?”, I said. “Yeah, of course”, he smiled, and tore himself from me, to run over and open his own door. I closed the door to my own place – giving it that extra yank it needed – and stepped up behind Eddie. He looked at me over his shoulder. “Sorry about the mess", he muttered apologetically, and opened his door.

Eddie’s apartment was cluttered, but not dirty. I could have sworn I saw a few unwashed dishes by the sink, but when I blinked, they were gone; as if a shadow had whisked them away. He had post-it notes hanging with ideas for stories, and a couple that read things like If you eat it, replace it and Pigeons are not food. “Do you have a roommate?”, I asked. Eddie chuckled nervously to himself. “Nah, I… forget things”, he said, and tore down a note reading No roadkill in the tub!.

I decided against asking, and simply made my way over to the couch, letting my finger run along the back of it. “Do you want some coffee? Or a beer?”, Eddie asked, and moved towards the fridge. I bit my lip, and shook my head. “Maybe… after?”, I said, trying for seductive; and failing miserably, when I tripped over a stack of papers on the floor. Before I knew what happened, Eddie was next to me; catching me before I hit the floor. “Wow… you’re fast!”, I said. “I… did track in high school”, he said. “You were all the way over…”, I began.

Eddie pressed his lips to mine, to shut me up, and soon I was forgetting all about the ten feet he’d traversed in less than a second. As quickly as I could, I shed my jacket, and Eddie’s lips once again travelled down my neck. I pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and couldn’t help put squeeze his biceps; finding them as firm as I’d imagined. As Eddie latched on to my pulse-point, I let out soft moan; and was rewarded with his hands moving down to my butt. Giving them a tight squeeze, he suddenly lifted me up, and made me put my legs around his waist. “Let’s move over here”, he muttered, and walked us over to the bed in the corner; gently setting me down on it.

We both began tugging at each other’s tops at the same time, but after chuckling at each other; we silently decided to take care of our own clothing. After I’d shed my tank-top, I kicked off my sneakers while Eddie took off his boots. We kept eye-contact as much as possible, and I saw nothing but appreciation in his gaze, as he saw me get more and more undressed. I was enjoying the sight of his bare torso as well; wanting nothing more than to bury my face in the soft hairs of his barreled chest. I pulled off my jeans – leaving me in socks, bra and panties – and moved back on the bed. Eddie raised a brow at me, and shook his head; and once he had gotten rid of his own pants, he grabbed my ankle, and pulled me closer. I yelped in glee as my groin met his, and he pushed me to lie back. I managed to reach down, and hook my finger into the waistband of his boxer briefs; but Eddie grabbed my wrist. “We got all night…”, he said. “But…”, I said. “Relax”.

He smirked mischievously, and kneeled down at the foot of the bed, and ran his palms up my thighs; leaving goosebumps in their wake. As he left a soft kiss on the inside of my left thigh, while his fingertips stroked circles on my right one. My breath hitched, as his warm breath travelled up to my warmth. I was ready to scream by the time his soft lips left an openmouthed kiss on my covered folds. “Please…!”, I whined. Eddie chuckled, and I felt his tongue lick a broad stripe against the lace covering my throbbing, most sensitive parts. Once again, I tried to take charge, by grabbing his head; but he grabbed my wrists, and forced them down my sides. “I really don’t want to have to hold you down”, he chided. “I kind of need my hands for what I’m about to do…”. I let out a frustrated groan, and relaxed my arms as much as I could. “Good girl…”, Eddie hummed, and let go of my hands. I threw my arms back, and grabbed for one of the pillows above my head, and dug my fingers in to it, to keep from getting in the way of Eddie’s work on my privates again.

With agonizingly slow movements, Eddie hooked his fingers into my panties, and pulled them down my feet. He held them up with one finger, and gave me another smirk, before flicking them away. They landed over his open laptop, and we both laughed for a moment; before Eddie once again lowered his face. The last thing I saw before throwing my head back in pleasure, was Eddie’s pleased eyes widening at his upcoming feast. His perfect mouth closed around my folds and clit, and he gave me a deep suckle, before flicking his tongue over my clit. “I know…”, he muttered. “Come again?”, I croaked. “I’m just enjoying my meal”, Eddie replied, blushing adorably. “Ok… Uhm… well, contin… Oh my god!”. Eddie had entered me with two fingers, and began moving them in a come-hither motion, while sucking hard at my nub. Letting out a growl against my wetness, Eddie soon had me seeing stars. As his fingers worked on my most sensitive spot inside, his tongue moved in a zigzag pattern between my folds; going up and down, and never forgetting to give my clit a languid stroke when he reached it. I put the pillow over my face, and cried out in pleasure, as Eddie worked me towards a mind shattering orgasm. Everything went white, and I’m pretty sure I floated above the mattress for a few seconds; as if something was lifting me in the air.

I was panting into the pillow and shaking all over, as I came down. “Don’t do that!”, Eddie grunted. “What?”, I muttered through the pillow. Eddie climbed up my body, and pulled it away from my face, looking flustered. “Just… don’t cover your face. I want to see you”, he said. “Ok…”, I said.

We smiled at each other, and kissed again. I could taste myself on his tongue, and enjoyed it more than was proper. Eddie laid down between my legs, and pressed against me; making me leave a wet spot on his boxers, from my still glistening folds. “Let me just get these off”, he smiled, and pulled down his underwear; and letting his erection spring free. I smiled in appreciation, and took a hold of my new friend; gently beginning to stroke it. “That’s… that’s nice”, Eddie said, straining to keep his composure. “A bit harder, please”. I tightened my hold, and received a deep moan in reply. “Condom?”, I asked. “Shit, yeah”, Eddie said, and reluctantly pulled himself out of my grasp. As he got off the bed, and ran over to search one of the drawers in his dresser, I snapped open my bra, and took it off. When he turned around to face me, with a foil packet in his hand, his jaw dropped at the sight of my mounds. “That is… Those are very nice”, he croaked. I chuckled, and pulled off my socks; wanting to be completely naked. “Oh, right!”, Eddie said, and tugged his own socks off, one at a time; losing his balance, and falling on to the bed next to me.

I nabbed the foil packet from his hand, and opened it carefully, pulling out the condom. Straddling Eddies legs, I closed my fingers around the tip of the rubber, and held it to the head of his penis. I rolled it down a little, before lowering my head, and closing my mouth around it; rolling it the rest of the way with my lips. Eddie let out a gasping groan, and looked down at me with wide eyes. Once the condom was all the way down his hardness, I released him from my mouth, and sat up; smiling sweetly. “Where did you learn that?”, he asked. “While you were doing track in high school, I was under the bleachers; doing other kinds of workout”, I shrugged. “It’s an interesting talent”, he chuckled. “I have many more”, I said, raising a brow at him. “I’m sure you do”, Eddie smiled, and grabbed the back of my head; pulling me in for a hungry kiss.

I was flipped onto my back, and Eddie placed himself at my entrance. “Yeah?”, he said, searching my eyes for the go-ahead. “Please”, I said, unable to hide the pleading tone in my voice. Eddie gave me one more deep kiss, and as he did, he pushed himself inside me; bottoming out in my warmth. We both moaned deeply as we were conjoined, and Eddie began moving slowly in and out of me. “You’re so warm… and tight!”, he gasped into my ear. “You fit perfectly”, I panted, and moved my hips to meet his every thrust. “I do, don’t I…”, Eddie chuckled. “Holy… wow”. I locked my leg around his hips, and Eddie grabbed my other leg; hooking his arm under my knee. With ever thrust, the head of his penis brushed against my g-spot; but even just the friction against my nub, and the feeling of his velvety hardness brushing against my walls, were enough to make me whimper in pleasure.

After a while of moving together slowly, I felt my walls beginning to quake; and Eddie’s face lit up. He began thrusting faster and harder, and soon I was crying out in ecstasy again. Every atom in my being felt like it was exploding, and I came around him. “Yes!”, I cried out, and Eddie laughed, seemingly overjoyed that he could make me feel this way. “Fuck, you look beautiful when you come”, he grinned. My hair was a tussled, and I was pretty sure my makeup was a mess, but I took his words as truth in that moment; convinced from the expression on his face, that there was no way he could be lying. “Thank you… for that”, I gasped. “And for the orgasm. That was pretty awesome too”. We laughed together for a moment, before Eddie leaned down, and kissed me. “Are you good to continue?”, he asked. “Don’t you dare stop!”, I exclaimed. “Ok… Turn around, then”.

He pulled out of me – leaving me feeling empty and wanting more – and grabbed my hip, to make me turn over. I got on all fours, and once again felt Eddie probing my entrance. He pushed into me with a pleased sigh, and began moving again. He shifted between fast and slow; as if every time he picked up speed, he willed himself to slow down again. “It’s ok. I can take it”, I said. “Alright”, Eddie panted, and let out a groan, as he slammed in to me. I feel forwards on the bed, landing on my chest; and felt my backside lift with every one of Eddie’s thrusts in to me. “… just go to sleep!”, I heard Eddie behind me. “I’m not…”, I said. “What?”. “I’m not asleep. How could I be?” “Oh… No, yeah; of course!”.

He snaked a hand underneath me, and expertly began stroking circles against my clit. I was soon, once again, feeling the familiar rush of an impending orgasm. “I’m gonna…”, I rasped. “Again?”, Eddie panted; still thrusting in to me, and having found the perfect rhythm for the both of us. “Uh huh…”, I whimpered, and turned my face into the mattress; crying out in pleasure. My walls contracted around Eddie’s hardness, and moments later, he let out a rasping groan; and came.

I was trying to regain my breath, and still feeling my muscles clenching throughout my body; as Eddie pulled out of me. He placed a soft kiss to the back of my neck, and got off the bed, to rid himself of the condom. I pulled at the sheet, wrapping it around me, as he returned to the bed and slipped his boxers back on. He looked satisfied, but also a bit frustrated, and I quietly excused myself to the bathroom, to clean up.

Through the door, I heard him shuffling around the small apartment, and seemingly talking to himself. “… stay out of it… was a me thing… I don’t need that”. I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable at the situation; and must have been stood for quite a while in the small bathroom, because suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Are you ok in there?”, Eddie called out. “Yeah!”, I replied, quickly finishing my cleanup, and washing my hands. I stepped out into the living area again, and gave him a half smile. “Uhm… are youok though?”. Eddie leaned in, and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, before stepping over to the fridge. “Of course… I’m awesome”, he said, and got out two beers. “That was great!”. I examined his face, and couldn’t help but frown. “Ok… You just seem a little out of it”, I said, and accepted the drink. “Are you regretting…”. “No!”, Eddie exclaimed, his eyes wide and earnest. “Not at all… I just get in my head sometimes”. “Ok…”, I muttered.

Eddie sighed deeply, and took my hand. “Come on”, he said, and pulled me over to sit on the couch. “That… what we just did; that was really great. You were great”. “So were you”, I smiled, biting my lip. “Yeah?”, Eddie said; a slight pink hue to his cheeks. “Thanks…”. As I took a welcome sip of my beer, he merged his fingers with my free hand. “I’d like to do it again… If you’re good with that”. “I’d like that”, I said. We sat for a moment in silence. “Do you wanna stay the night?”. “I should get going”. We’d spoken at the same time. “Oh… Well, if you wanna go…”, Eddie said. “I just thought – seeing as you said the bed at your place wasn’t that great – maybe you’d want to sleep somewhere else”. “The couch isn’t much better”, I chuckled. “Are you sure though? I don’t want you to think you have to…”. “I’d like you to stay”, Eddie said. I felt my cheeks burn. “Ok… I’ll stay”, I said.

Eddie lit up in a grin, and leaned in to give me a warm kiss. “I’m happy you moved in across the hall”, he said. “Me too”, I smiled. “Me three…! Too!”, Eddie said, his voice having shifted from deep, and back to his raspy tone within seconds. He cleared his throat. “Sorry… My throat is a bit dry”, he said, and took a deep swig of his beer. I frowned in confusion, but decided to let it go. We had just spent a good while exercising, and my own throat was a little dry as well; and I took another sip of my beer.

We sat for a long moment in silence, sipping at our bottles, and smiling warmly at each other; before Eddie frowned deeply. “I have to tell you something”, he said. “And… You might change your mind about staying”. I felt a shudder go through my body, suddenly worried where this was going. “What is it?”, I croaked. Eddie took a deep breath, and blew it out. He took my beer from me, and put it down on the coffee table, next to his own. Taking both my hands, he looked deeply in to my eyes. “Here goes… Uhm… Wow, this is hard”, he said. “Just tell me”, I said, trying for calm and encouraging. “Ok… I snore… And not in the cute way”, Eddie said. “I give the streetcars a run for their money, when it comes to noise”. I instantly began laughing in relief. “That’s it? You should hear me!”. Eddie raised his brows at me. “I’ll bet you 20 bucks and a donut from Don’s, I can outdo you”, he said. “You’re a journalist. Don’t you have a Dictaphone?”, I asked. Eddie sprang over to his messenger bag, and pulled out a small recorder. “Let’s do this!”, he exclaimed.

I got to my feet, and followed him over to the bed. Unwrapping myself from the sheet, Eddie gave me a sly smile, and pulled me in for a deep kiss – running his hands up and down my sides – before he let me crawl onto the bed. Once I laid down, he crawled in next to me, and put the sheet over the both of us. He clicked the record button on the Dictaphone, and put it by the bed: before pulling me in to his arms. I cuddled up against him, and let his warmth lull me; feeling suddenly very tired. “Goodnight, Ed”, I whispered. We gave each other a soft kiss. “Goodnight, Lyla”, he replied.

I was already halfway asleep, when something tucked us in; pulling the covers over us. “Eddie?”, I yawned. “Yeah?”, he asked hesitantly. “Was that you?”. “Yes!”. “Ok. Goodnight”. I was out.

---

[nerdyfangirl67]

Those Five Words - Criminal Minds Reader Insert

Pairing: Morgan x reader

Warnings: negative thoughts, depressed feelings

Word count: 1075

A/N: Not entirely sure where this one came from but I loosely based it off of the song “I’ll Be There for You” by Bon Jovi (with the lyrics being heavily used/referenced in one of the paragraphs.) It’s just a little guy, but I hope y’all like it! Also, sorry for the pic, I couldn’t find any good GIFs for Morgan that fit, sadly. 

It had been a long day at work and after having to take the fall for a co-worker’s mistake, which had ended in a fifteen-minute lecture from your boss, you were exhausted. And when you remembered that it was only Tuesday, you felt even more defeated. Then, on your drive home, Derek texted you that he wouldn’t be home that night as the case was taking longer than expected. By the time you had arrived home to find that the mailman had given you your neighbor’s mail, instead of your own, yet again, you were far beyond being done with the day. 

You leave your mail, or rather, your neighbor’s in your box and climb the four flights of stairs up to the apartment you shared with Derek. After unlocking, and relocking (you dated an FBI agent after all), the apartment door, you drop your stuff on the ground by the door, not bothering to hang up your jacket, purse, or keys. You kick your shoes from your feet and start shedding clothes on your way to the bathroom. All you want right now is a shower and you could care less about where your clothes ended up.

You stand listlessly in the shower. Every few minutes you turn the water a bit hotter to counteract the coolness permeating through it. You couldn’t bring yourself to wash your hair either. Rather, you had spent the last half hour staring at the shower wall, letting the water simply wash over you. The hot water does nothing to rid your mind of the horrible day you had and as the remaining hot water turns cold, you shut off the shower before wrapping yourself in one of the fluffy towels you reserved as an accessory for the bathroom, and on the off chance that you had guests, for any stayover guests. 

You reach the bedroom and instead of rummaging through your loungewear drawer, you go to the matching dresser that belongs to Derek and pull out one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his basketball shorts. You didn’t ‘borrow’ Derek’s clothes often, but on bad days when he wasn’t home, they made you feel almost like he was there, which always made you feel better. After getting dressed, you curl up on the bed and stare at the wall. 

You had to admit that you didn’t feel any better now than you had when you walked through the apartment door. You suddenly get up and return to the living room, where you locate your purse. You rummage through it until you find your phone. Before you know what you are doing, you’re dialing Derek’s number, which you know by heart, and the phone is ringing. You didn’t like to call Derek when he was working on a case unless you knew he was free because you didn’t want to make him feel guilty for being gone. But today, all you want is to hear his voice.

The phone rings three times before he picks up. “Hey, baby girl.” His deep, rich voice fills your ear and his greeting makes you smile. He always answered your calls the same way, even when he was busy. 

“Can you talk?” You ask nervously, not wanting to distract him if he was busy with the case. 

“I can for you baby girl.” He said softly, hearing the nervousness and stress come through in your voice. “What’s wrong?”

You struggle to find the right words and after a long moment of silence, you just say, “Can you just talk to me? Tell me something good.” You say quietly, wishing you could see his face and look into his soft, dark eyes as he spoke. 

There was a pause on the other end before Morgan started speaking again. “I remember the day I met you. It was the team’s first night back after a long case in Los Angeles. You were wearing that sexy little black dress, with those killer red heels. You were absolutely breathtaking, the most beautiful woman in the bar. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, much to Emily and JJ’s amusement. And even though your presence alone had me staring, it wasn’t until I heard you laugh, and saw your smile, that I knew. I knew that I wanted to get to know you. I knew that I wanted to become your man. I knew I wanted, no, want, to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He took a breath before continuing. “And the song that was playing on the jukebox when I first talked to you, I think it was called Saving Forever for You, yeah, I chose that one. Trying to send you subliminal messages from the get-go.” He lets out a laugh, which warms you from the inside. “I love you, baby girl.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I love you too Derek.” 

“And I know I’m not physically there, but I’ll always pick up the phone when you call. No matter what’s happening.” His voice is tender, the emotion bleeding through and creating a soft edge to his tone. “I’ll be there for you, okay? Those five words are a promise. Whatever you need, I’ll get it. Hell, if you wanted the sun, I’d steal it from the sky for you.” 

A smile comes across your face as you recognize the words he is saying. Although you have no doubt that he doesn’t mean them, the words weren’t his. “Thank you, I needed to hear those words today. You turned my day around just by picking up the phone.” You say, honestly feeling better now that you had talked to him.

“I’ll be home soon, I promise baby girl. I love you.” He says and you can tell he must have to get back to work. 

“Okay, I’ll be waiting Derek. I love you.” You pause before adding, “Oh, and Derek Morgan, do you think you could just pull a Bon Jovi song reference, and I wouldn’t figure it out?”

You hear him stammering on the other end as you joke, “It’s a good thing you’re so handsome” before hanging up, knowing you left him tongue-tied and loving it. But he gave you something better. Not only did he make you feel better after your shitty day, but he gave you a life you had only dreamed of, filled with the love and happiness of an amazing man.

[justmakeitatvshow]

EPISODE 1: YOU'VE GOT THE FUTURE IN YOUR HANDS

(PLAY MUSIC)

SIGNED, SEALED, DELIVERED (I’M YOURS) BY STEVIE WONDER STARTS PLAYING

1. HOGWARTS – CLEAR DAY

The camera goes up from behind a group of trees revealing the Hogwarts castle. It starts moving towards MCGONAGALL’s window office where she is writing names on envelopes. She writes “Mary Macdonald” and the envelope gently flies to a pile next to her as another slides to be positioned under her hand. Then she writes “Remus Lupin”, and the envelope flies to a free space, alone. We see the hand of a house elf take it and then the camera follows the trail of flying letters all the way to the owlery. There, a bunch of elves wrap the letters to the owls’ paws and they fly away. The camera follows the flock flying with the letters with Hogwarts behind.

2. THE POTTER HOUSEHOLD – CLEAR MORNING

An owl flies in direction to a fancy house. JAMES wakes up hearing an owl’s squeal. He gets out of his room very excited and hurriedly walks down the stairs to the living room and entrance of his house. There, his father FLEAMONT is wearing an apron while his mother EUPHEMIA is wearing office attire. They present the letter to JAMES happily (even their owl ADRIAN appears to be smiling), and JAMES runs to meet their parent’s embrace and they all jump a little in joy.

3. 12 GRIMMAULD PLACE – CLOUDY AFTERNOON

The camera shows how the letter enters the house through the mailbox. KREACHER picks it from the doormat and crankily walks towards the great dining hall where WALBURGA, ORION, REGULUS and SIRIUS are eating in silence and places it next to WALBURGA. SIRIUS rises up his face from his plate showing that half his face is red as if he had recently been slapped and looks at the letter in awe, and then at his mother with fear. WALBURGA glares at the letter and says nothing, taking a bite of her meat.

4. THE PETTIGREW HOUSEHOLD – CLOUDY AFTERNOON

PETER is looking through the window, waiting and seeming hopeless. He frowns, suddenly looking dazzled, as if he’s heard a sound. He opens up the window to get a better view and immediately a huge owl races through the window into his living room, crashing with him and making him fall.

LINDA: (in a worried voice) PETER? PETER ARE YOU INJURED?

PETER straights himself and attempts to smack the owl, but it flies away. Then he realizes there is a letter by his side and looks at it, happy at first and then worried. He decides to open it and breaths in relief. At the same moment BARREND takes his face off the newspaper and gets up from the armchair. LINDA also enters the living room wearing an apron, and they both walk towards PETER very happy and relieved, hugging his son.

(PLAY MUSIC)

5. SOMEWHERE IN WALES – RAINY LATE-AFTERNOON

The ambience is gloomy. DUMBLEDORE stands in front of a doorway. It’s pouring rain but he is using an umbrella, disguised as a muggle. He is also carrying a briefcase. He rings the bell and waits.

LYALL (from the inside): Hope, can you get the door?

The door opens after a while, and DUMBLEDORE smiles at the woman in front of him.

HOPE: (in a worried voice) Sir… we-we weren’t expecting you (she rectifies and adopts a more relaxed, joyful tone) Please, come in.

DUMBLEDORE: (calmly) Thank you, my darling.

DUMBLEDORE enters the house and HOPE leads him to the living room. LYALL is messing up with some potions on the kitchen counter, wearing a very stained apron.

LYALL: (surprised) Headmaster. Is everything alright?

DUMBLEDORE: (distractedly) Yes, yes… (he paces around the room a little) (sniffing) Pardon me, Lyall, do I smell… Clark’s pies?

HOPE: Yes! You do. I was just baking some.

DUMBLEDORE: Delightful.

LYALL: Please, Headmaster, get comfortable (he points at the couch)

DUMBLEDORE: Call me Albus, please (he turns to HOPE) Could I get one of those Clark’s pie, good woman?

HOPE: Definitely.

LYALL: If we had been expecting you we would have managed a better welcome, Headmaster (he takes off his apron and places it on the counter)

DUMBLEDORE: Oh, don’t bother yourselves. There is no need to make a fuzz over an old man.

HOPE hands DUMBLEDORE a small plate with a Clark’s pie.

DUMBLEDORE: Thank you, darling.

HOPE sits nervously on the armchair facing him. LYALL walks slowly towards DUMBLEDORE and sits on the welting of his wife’s armchair. A big clock ticks and for a few seconds there is silence.

DUMBLEDORE: (observing the Clark’s pie closely) How has the insurance business been lately, Mrs. Lupin?

HOPE: (doubtedly) F-Fine, sir. Dumbledore.

DUMBLEDORE: I have heard it is a rising sector.

HOPE: I-

LYALL: (sated) Did you come all the way from Scotland to ask my wife about her job, Headmaster?

DUMBLEDORE: No, I have not.

DUMBLEDORE takes a bite of the Clark’s pie and nods at HOPE, delighted. He takes out a small handkerchief and wipes the corners of his mouth.

DUMBLEDORE: (declaratively) I am here to see the boy.

HOPE gasps, softly but audibly. LYALL sits up, aiming for his wand.

DUMBLEDORE: I thought we could enjoy a little conversation before the imminent happens.

HOPE: (hurriedly) He is just a child. He has’t hurt anyone. He is a good boy…

LYALL: (hurriedly) We take all the precautions, Albus. And I haven’t stopped, not for a single day, looking for a cure.

DUMBLEDORE: (unbothered) I applaud you. However, I could not care less about any of that.

HOPE gets up and goes to DUMBLEDORE, crawling onto him and taking his hand.

HOPE: (crying) S-Sir, please! Remus is just a little boy! He’s not even dangerous, I-I…

DUMBLEDORE: (without looking at her) Lower your wand, Lyall. I am afraid there has been a misunderstanding. I do not intend any harm for the boy.

LYALL: (untrustful) But the Ministry will if you rat him out!

DUMBLEDORE: Lucky for us that is the least thing I desire to do.

LYALL: (lowering his wand) For us?

DUMBLEDORE takes out an envelope from the inside of his cape and presents it to them.

DUMBLEDORE: The mail.

HOPE sits up in a hurry, recomposing herself.

HOPE: Lyall? (looks at her husband)

LYALL: Is that…?

DUMBLEDORE: Apparently your son has been accepted into Hogwarts.

LYALL drops his wand and it falls to the floor making a sound.

LYALL: Merlin… Is this for real?

DUMBLEDORE: So it seems.

LYALL and HOPE look at each other with fuzzy expressions. Then, they smile at each other.

DUMBLEDORE: Hogwarts will be a more inclusive place for young wizards this year. We will prepare the necessary arrangements for the safety of everyone, and that will make of Remus a student like anyone.

HOPE: (crying) Thank you so much…

DUMBLEDORE smiles at their happiness, but quickly gets serious again.

DUMBLEDORE: Now. I want to speak to the boy.

6. INSIDE REMUS’ ROOM

The door is ajar. REMUS is sitting next to the entrance, he has been listening. He is hugging his knees and his face is half buried between them. There is a book beside him, but he’s not reading it. DUMBLEDORE knocks.

REMUS: (in a small voice) Come in.

DUMBLEDORE: Hello, Remus.

REMUS doesn’t answer. DUMBLEDORE enters the room and takes a look. Then he kneels beside him, taking the book from the floor and observing it.

DUMBLEDORE: The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Nice reading. Which one are you on?

REMUS: The Warlock’s Hairy Heart.

DUMBLEDORE: (hums). A sad story.

REMUS: I like it.

DUMBLEDORE walks around the room, examining it. It is an obscure place for a little kid. There are not many drawings on the walls or colorful toys. There are a lot of books.

REMUS: (trying to act up) You’re here to imprison me, right?

DUMBLEDORE: (looking at him fondly and pitifully) Why would you think that?

REMUS: Because I’m dangerous to other people. (sadly) I’m a monster.

DUMBLEDORE: No, Remus. I am not here to imprison you. I am only here to give you this.

DUMBLEDORE hands REMUS the letter. REMUS takes it and, frowning, turns it around a couple of times, caressing it with curiosity. He opens it and starts reading. The camera follows its content, which is:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Remus Lupin,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Term begins on 1 September.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall.

REMUS: (looking at DUMBLEDORE with shock) You’re him. You’re Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

DUMBLEDORE: (hums)

DUMBLEDORE pulls out his suitcase and opens it before him. REMUS looks at its insides with awe.

DUMBLEDORE: I have taken the liberty of borrowing this for you from an old friend at Flourish & Blotts. You will need them for the school year.

REMUS: (crestfallen) I am still not allowed to go out, right?

DUMBLEDORE: Nonsense. You will board on the train on the 1st, just like every other student at Hogwarts. I thought your parents would appreciate the help. It didn’t come to mind that you would have preferred to shop for your own books, Mr. Lupin.

REMUS smiles and walks towards the briefcase, looking at the books. Then he looks up at DUMBLEDORE, eyes shining.

REMUS: Is this for real?

DUMBLEDORE: (smiling) So it seems.

REMUS: I thought I couldn’t get accepted.

DUMBLEDORE: You have magic, right?

REMUS walks towards one of his tall shelvings and rises his arm to grab a book that’s too high for him. The book wobbles to his hand, flying in the air.

DUMBLEDORE: (eyes sparkling with curiosity) Not many children your age manage that amount of control.

REMUS: Thank you, sir.

DUMBLEDORE: Well, that is all whom should be required for a boy to start learning magic, right? The ability to perform it.

REMUS: I agree with you, sir.

DUMBLEDORE: Delightful.

(PLAY MUSIC UNTIL ANNOYING)

INTRO

The previous image turns into an inked drawing in the style of the marauders map. CHAPER 1: YOU'VE GOT THE FUTURE IN YOUR HANDS shows up in the centre of the frame. In the background sounds The Marauders Theme.

7. PLATFORM 9¾ – CLEAR DAY

The platform is filled up with people. From the upside we can spot all four boys: SIRIUS is getting up on the train while KREACHER waves. Behind him, BELLATRIX gets in smacking KREACHER in the head and laughing about it. JAMES is talking to his parents, who look at him in awe and laugh at what he’s saying. PETER is beside him a little uncomfortable and his parents are looking at JAMES with the same expression of awe than his own. REMUS is talking to his parents.

HOPE: Take good care of yourself, and write every day. My God! I can’t believe my little boy is going to school!

REMUS: Thanks, mom… I will.

LYALL: And if you do good at school we’ll buy you that record-player you liked so much, alright?

REMUS: Yes!

HOPE fixes REMUS’ jacket and LYALL pats his hair. REMUS’ expression turns gloomy.

REMUS: Hey dad… About that mind-reading hat…

LYALL: What about it?

REMUS: What if it… What if it finds out?

LYALL: (serious) That’s not possible. The hat won’t look into those parts of your mind. It will only see your heart. Or your brains; in which case, it will surely place you in Ravenclaw.

REMUS: (a bit cheered up) Like you!

LYALL: That’s right.

REMUS smiles contently. A few meters from there, EUPHEMIA points at REMUS and says something inaudible to JAMES. REMUS frowns and steps back, scared.

HOPE: What’s the matter, honey?

REMUS: Nothing…

HOPE turns around, looking for what startled her son.

HOPE: Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re kind, and smart. Keep your secrets close to your chest and you will make friends very soon. I’m sure of it.

LYALL: Yes. Be safe, son. And take care.

REMUS: Thanks…

PLATFORM WORKER: LAST CALL TO GET ON BOARD!

LYALL: Let’s get you up there.

They say their goodbyes and REMUS gets on the train.

HOPE: We love you!

REMUS: I love you, too.

8. HOGWARTS EXPRESS

REMUS enters the train and immediately bumps into PETER, who is holding his wand. PETER is pushed onto the wall, and his wand cracks in half.

PETER: Oghh!

REMUS: (upset) Oh my God! Sorry! I broke your wand!

PETER: Wha-? What? Where? When? Where is it?

REMUS: (regretfully) It’s… it’s on the floor.

PETER searches for it frantically, overwhelmed. When he spots it he breaths in relief and grabs it.

PETER: This? This is not my wand.

PETER takes a bite of the stick-like thing.

PETER: It’s licorice!

REMUS smiles a little, relieved.

REMUS: That’s odd licorice.

PETER: What’s odd about it?

REMUS: Isn’t licorice red? Or– black, for a change?

PETER: I don’t know… it’s just licorice.

JAMES appears from the side of the corridor, a bit annoyed.

JAMES: Peter? I was talking! Weren’t you listening to me?

PETER: Yes, yes, I was–!

JAMES notices REMUS and studies him. He then smiles at him and reaches out his hand.

JAMES: James Potter. Here to serve you, sir.

REMUS looks at him untrustworthily, but takes his hand and shakes it.

REMUS: Remus Lupin.

JAMES: Lupin? That’s an unusual name. (JAMES frowns a little and touches his chin) Wait a minute… You’re Lyall Lupin’s son!

REMUS opens his eyes wide, a bit surprised.

REMUS: You know my dad?

JAMES: Of course! My father talks about him all the time. He knows everything about non-human spectral appearances! He’s a genius.

REMUS nods, understandingly.

JAMES: We were just looking for a compartment, do you want to join us?

REMUS bites his lips doubtfully, a bit shakily.

REMUS: Okay…

JAMES smiles and starts walking, encouraging them with a wave of his hand.

PETER: Now, James (he takes a bite of the licorice) What were you saying?

JAMES: I was telling you about how my great-great-great-great-grandfather Phileas Potter, who was a brave Gryffindor, managed to win the heart of a muggle princess that was locked up in the highest tower of the highest castle…

9. HOGWARTS EXPRESS CORRIDOR

Compartment door closes.

STUDENT (from the inside): Sorry!

JAMES: Merlin’s beard, they’re all full!

PETER: We just have to keep looking, there must be a free compartment somewhere!

REMUS: I think I see an open door…

JAMES: You’re right!

PETER: Finally!

JAMES opens the door. Inside the compartment there are BELLATRIX, NARCISSA, LUCIUS and SIRIUS. BELLATRIX, NARCISSA and LUCIUS are much older, appearing to be in 6th of 7th year.

BELLATRIX: (in a high pitched voice, mockingly) Oooohh… did you get lost, little one? (she bends to get a better glance) Oh, look! It’s a bunch of them!

NARCISSA frowns lightly at her and turns to see through the window. SIRIUS, who is looking down, rises his head to look at JAMES, REMUS and PETER disgruntedly.

JAMES: S-Sorry sirs! A-And misses!

LUCIUS: (laughing) Don’t be! Come, come inside! You’re Potter, right?

JAMES: …

JAMES: It has been a pleasure talking to you!

JAMES closes the door quickly. PETER lets out a small squeak.

LUCIUS (from the inside): The pleasure is mine! (he laughs)

PETER: Oh Merlin, Oh Merlin, Oh Merlin, Oh Merlin, Oh Merlin!

JAMES: “Sorry sirs!”? I’m so stupid! (he hits himself on the head) Stupid!

REMUS: What happened?

PETER: What happened?! What happened??!! Those were The Blacks!

JAMES: And Malfoy.

PETER: And Malfoy!

JAMES hurries to find an empty compartment and invites them in with a hand gesture, confidently.

(STOP MUSIC)

10. HOGWARTS EXPRESS COMPARTMENT

REMUS enters the compartment and sits beside the window. JAMES sits in front of him and PETER sits by JAMES’ side, closing the door behind him.

REMUS: Who are The Blacks?

PETER: (getting up to safe the door anxiously) You don’t know The Blacks? Where do you live, under a rock?

JAMES: The Blacks are only the most powerful family in the entire Wizarding World.

REMUS: I see…

JAMES: Also, they are all insane.

PETER: And they are very, very rich!

REMUS: I didn’t know.

JAMES: How could you not?

PETER: Are you a muggle?

JAMES: No, he’s not, he’s Lyall Lupin’s son!

PETER: Ah, right…

REMUS: My mum’s a muggle, so… We live in a muggle town.

JAMES: So, you’re closer to the muggle way of life?

REMUS: Could say so…

PETER: So you’re basically a muggle.

JAMES: (upset) Peter!

PETER: No wonder you’ve never seen licorice… Do you even know what candy is?

REMUS: Y-Yeah, I do…

PETER: Don’t worry, Lupin. We’ll get you some candy.

JAMES: (looking at REMUS) It’s okay you’re half muggle, you know? A lot of people is these days. You don’t have to feel ashamed.

REMUS: I’m not… Or… I wasn’t…

PETER: (checking his own temperature) I still can’t believe we bumped into the Blacks like that. I am so scared of them…

JAMES: Well, I am not! I won’t be belittled by the likes of them…

PETER: Alright, you won’t– But I will!

REMUS: (curious) What is so scary about them, anyway?

PETER: It is no joke they’re all insane.

JAMES: And it gets worse every generation. For example, everyone knows that Bellatrix, the black haired girl, keeps his hair that curly because she washes it every night with house elves’ blood!

PETER: (insistently) Every night!

JAMES: That’s a lot of blood.

PETER: And the young boy that accompanied them was Sirius, her cousin and the House heir, Walburga’s son. He is our age. And everyone who knows him already says he’s much worse than she is…

JAMES: All of them are in Slytherin, of course.

PETER: … and I am so scared of him!

JAMES: Compose yourself, Peter; he’s just a boy like us…

PETER: They say dark magic runs in their veins… that they don’t need to learn it!

JAMES: (unsure) That’s nonsense. That’s not possible.

PETER: That’s what makes them insane, they say!

REMUS: (shakily) Yeah, that… that’s not possible. Dark, magical things… on people’s bodies. That would be awful, I would hate that.

JAMES: Yeah, mate. Not cool.

REMUS opens his suitcase nervously and takes out a book.

JAMES: You read? Sweet! What are you reading?

REMUS: The Tales of…

PETER: The Tales of Beedle the Bard! (proudly) The best book in the world.

JAMES: Yeah, the only one you have ever read…

REMUS looks at them, amused for the first time.

REMUS: Do you know each other from before?

PETER: Our moms are friends. We have known each other for years.

JAMES: We only meet on summers, though. When my parents and I go to our vacation house, which is near Peter’s.

PETER: Do muggles not have books? Why don’t you read muggle books?

REMUS: I have a couple…

JAMES: Do you know in which house you’re going to be placed? Or which one is your favorite house?

REMUS: (startled, remembering his fear of the Selecting Hat) Well, my dad was in Ravenclaw…

JAMES: That’s cool. Ravenclaw’s a cool house. Not cooler than Gryffindor, but definitely better than Slytherin… or Hufflepuff.

PETER: Hufflepuff is the worst. It's just lame…

REMUS smiles at them and starts reading.

JAMES: Definitely.

PETER: No one in my family has ever been in Hufflepuff.

JAMES: (sighing) Don’t worry, Peter, they won’t place you in Hufflepuff…

PETER: (revealing his fear) How do you know!? And what if it happens!? I will run away! I will, I swear!

JAMES: A nagger like you would never be a Hufflepuff! Hufflepuffs are sweet, boring people. YOU’RE TOO ANNOYING!

PETER: (relieved) I hope you’re right, James… I hope you’re right.

JAMES: I’m not afraid like you. I know I will be placed in Gryffindor.

PETER: Yeah… I’ve heard your monologues about how your family has been chosen into Gryffindor since the 13th century. And I heard you repeating to yourself “Gryffindor! Gryffindor!” when you thought no one was listening for the entire summer… what was that, anyway?

JAMES: I was practicing how I would like the Selecting Hat to announce my placement.

PETER: Right…

TROLLEY WITCH (from the outside): Anything from the caaaart? Anything from the caaaart?

JAMES: Do you want something, Pete?

PETER: Yes!

JAMES: Remus, do you want something?

REMUS: (distracted by the reading) Eh… alright.

PETER: Yeah, let’s get you that candy. You look very pale. Are you sick or something?

JAMES: Peter… That’s rude.

REMUS: (uncomfortable) It’s okay. A lot of people ask me that, really… That’s just… the way my skin looks.

JAMES opens the compartment door.

TROLLEY WITCH: Anything from the cart, dears?

PETER: I’ll take three licorice wands, four chocolate frogs, six acid pops and a package of jelly slugs.

JAMES: Two chocolate frogs and a dozen Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans for me, pretty please!

REMUS takes out his money and he counts it. He doesn't have much.

TROLLEY WITCH: That will be two galleons and seven sickles!

JAMES: What–? Oh, no, no; you didn’t understand me. I want a dozen boxes of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. (he turns to REMUS). What do you want, Lupin?

REMUS: I’ll just have… a sugar quill.

TROLLEY WITCH: Alright– That makes five galleons and six sickles.

JAMES hurries to pay. He has a pretty full coin purse. TROLLEY WITCH leaves closing the compartment magically and REMUS takes his money and offers it to JAMES.

REMUS: How much do I owe you?

JAMES: Don’t worry– It’s on me! Just a small treat for my friends.

REMUS stays still, with the money on his hand, and swallows hard.

REMUS: But… but we’re not friends.

JAMES: (startled) Oh. Alright. Well, it’s on me anyway.

The compartment falls in silence and REMUS goes back to reading. PETER eats absolutely everything he purchased. JAMES looks through the window.

PETER: (caressing his full belly) I’m just gonna take a little nap… wake me up when we get there (he closes his eyes and immediately starts to snore)

ANY MUSIC STOPS

11. NIGHTMARE SORTING CEREMONY

WOMAN’S VOICE: Lupin, Remus!

REMUS walks up and sits on te sorting chair. A woman dressed in black robes places the hat on his head. The Great Hall is full of people, the whole school is looking. He turns to see DUMBLEDORE on the professors’ table. DUMBLEDORE smiles at him and nods.

When the hat touches REMUS’ head, everything goes black.

SORTING HAT: Let me see…

We dive deep into REMUS’ thoughts. REMUS sees himself transforming, chained in the basement of his house. The image switches from the transformation to daily memories. The wolf howls. He sees his parents, talking to each other worriedly. The wolf scratches the stone walls. He looks from the window at the other children, playing near his house. The wolf scars himself. The transformation ends and he is again a boy. He faints, and a real wolf appears and starts eating him alive violently.

SORTING HAT: Well, well, well… What do we have here?

WOMAN’S VOICE (from the outside): What is it?

SORTING HART (aloud): A WEREWOLF!

REMUS opens his eyes, scared. All the students scream and start running away. Also some teachers are running, including DUMBLEDORE. Someone grabs REMUS and starts dragging him to lock him down. REMUS cries but he lets it be.

12. HOGWARTS EXPRESS COMPARTMENT – NIGHTIME

REMUS wakes up suddenly. It’s dark outside.

JAMES: Come on, we’re here. You both fell asleep.

REMUS: I’m sorry…

JAMES frowns at him.

JAMES: Why are you apologizing?

REMUS: I don’t know.

JAMES: It’s alright. I’ll wait outside the train, I need some air.

JAMES gets out. REMUS. and PETER stay in the compartment, REMUS still dazzled from his dream.

PETER: (stretching, newly awakened) You really broke the guy with that not-being-friends thing of yours, mate.

REMUS: Excuse me?

PETER: I’m just saying… James is too much of a nice guy to understand that sort of thing. I mean, he keeps on being my friend, and he doesn’t even like me…

REMUS: Oh.

PETER: You should tell him you didn’t mean it. Even if it’s not true. He just won’t feel comfortable any other way.

PETER gets up and picks his things. REMUS gets out of the compartment and into de corridor.

REMUS: Um… alright? I-I just… I’m not really looking forward to making friends…

PETER: Ah. Oh.

REMUS: I just… I don’t know if I’m gonna be staying here long enough…

PETER: Are you getting transferred to Durmstrang, or something?

RANDOM STUDENT: Please, can you hurry up? You’re blocking the corridor!

REMUS: (starting to walk) Sorry.

PETER follows him.

PETER: Look, just speak with the lad. As a favor for me? It’s likely we’re going to be roommates and I don’t like it when he gets all grumpy.

REMUS: Alright, alright. I’ll speak to him.

PETER: Great.

They get out of the train alongside the rest of the students.

13. HOGWARTS’ STATION

BELLATRIX and NARCISSA are talking to SIRIUS near the express’ exit.

BELLATRIX: Just think of beautiful things and that stupid little hat will put you in Slytherin, no doubt!

NARCISSA: (indifferent) The hat will also attend to your requests. In reality, you just have to ask. That's all.

SIRIUS nods quietly, looking discouraged.

HAGRID: First years! Come on, first years!

HAGRID and FILCH are guiding the students to get near the lake and onto the boats. REMUS and PETER join JAMES and they walk behind HAGRID.

HAGRID: First years, this way to the boats, come on, follow me!

They get on the boat and it starts moving, slowly. They contemplate in awe how all the boats start moving together, making a beautiful picture with their little lights.

JAMES: It’s so cool, right?

REMUS: Yeah…

As they get closer the Hogwarts castle gets visible, and it occupies the whole frame.

(PLAY MUSIC)

14. HOGWARTS’ CORRIDOR

MCGONAGALL is waiting for the students on a staircase, and waits for them to be standing on the staircase to start speaking.

MCGONAGALL: Welcome to Hogwarts. In a few moments you will pass through these doors and join your classmates but before you can take your seats you must be sorted into your houses.

JAMES smiles excitedly and jumps a little. SIRIUS, standing a couple people away from him, is biting his nails and breathing heavily, head down.

MCGONAGALL: …There are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Now, while you’re here, your house will be like your family…

SIRIUS rises up his face as if he just realized something, and he stops biting his nails.

SIRIUS: (purposeful) I’m ready!

VARIOUS STUDENTS: (laugh)

MGONAGALL: (surprised but momentarily interested) Congratulations, Mr. Black. Now, as I was saying… Your triumphs will earn you points… (continuous in off)

JAMES: (whispering) Nuts, I’m telling you.

PETER: I just hope he isn’t planning on killing us all…

(MUSIC STOPS)

15. SIRIUS’ ROOM, 12 GRIMMAULD PLACE – CLOUDY AFTERNOON

SIRIUS and REGULUS are laying in bed laughing quiety, as if they don’t want anybody to hear, while looking at some pictures.

REGULUS: (laughing) And great-aunt Cassiopea’s scarf! It looks like a bird!

SIRIUS: (laughing) Ew! It probably is…

REGULUS: I can’t believe mother keeps all this pictures hidden… they’re hilarious.

SIRIUS: That’s probably why she keeps them hidden.

REGULUS keeps laughing and looking at pictures. SIRIUS laughs with him for a bit longer but them gets staid and sits up.

SIRIUS: Reggie… we’re friends, right?

REGULUS: Yes, of course.

SIRIUS: And we’ll always be friends, right? We’ll always be brothers.

REGULUS: Of course, Sirius.

SIRIUS: Then… can I tell you something?

REGULUS: (worriedly) I don’t know… what is it?

SIRIUS: It’s something about… Hogwarts.

REGULUS: (interested) Okay, tell me.

SIRIUS: I just… (very quietly) I think I don’t want to be in Slytherin…

REGULUS: (surprised) What? Why?

SIRIUS: I don’t know, I just… I don’t see the point of joining a House or something just because it is expected…

REGULUS: (worriedly, distant) Why are you saying those things?

SIRIUS: (reflexive) …

REGULUS: Why are you thinking those things?

SIRIUS: It doesn't matter… It's stupid.

REGULUS: (confused) …

SIRIUS: …

REGULUS: You’ll have to get into Slytherin. That’s what mother and father want.

SIRIUS: Yes, but that’s the point, right? That’s what they want. It might not coincide with what I want.

REGULUS: But you don’t know what you want… you’re only eleven years old.

SIRIUS: …

REGULUS: Mother and father know what’s best for us better than us.

SIRIUS: Maybe…

REGULUS: Sirius.

SIRIUS: Yes?

REGULUS: Promise me you’ll get into Slytherin?

There is a small silence, and the SIRIUS chuckles, dismissing the issue.

SIRIUS: … of course, silly. (he forces a smile) I’m a Black, aren’t I? It’s not like I can help it, anyway.

REGULUS: (way more relaxed) Then why were you saying all those things?

SIRIUS: Just to think about something, I guess… Summer in London is SOOO boring!

REGULUS: (laughing) Totally! If only we could visit cousin Andromeda up in Oxford…

SIRIUS: We’ll find a way to have fun, Reggie. Don’t worry. I can escape again this Sunday and buy that muggle magazine you like.

REGULUS: Really? Pleeeease do!

SIRIUS: Of course.

KREACHER makes a disgusted face. He is listening from the other side of the door.

16. SORTING CEREMONY – CLEAR NIGHT

MCGONAGALL (distant): Abbott, Igmar!

SORTING HAT (distant): HUFFLEPUFF!

MCGONAGALL (distant): Boromir, Michael!

SORTING HAT (distant): RAVENCLAW!

MCGONAGALL (distant): Blabse, Theresa!

SORTING HAT (distant): SLYTHERIN!

MCGONAGALL: Black, Sirius!

SIRIUS rushes to the chair. JAMES glances at him with a frowned face and PETER bites his nails. BELLATRIX is holding an unhinged smile and NARCISSA contemplates quietly the event.

NARCISSA: (whispering, worriedly) Just ask… Just ask…

SIRIUS sits down and MCGONAGALL places the SORTING HAT on his head.

SORTING HAT: Uhmm… A Black! This should be easy… Although you have brains… in your own way I must clarify… You also have a good amount of loyal in you, Hufflepuff could be an option… But you’re cunning, so cunning… plotty… and ambitious…

SIRIUS: (whispering) Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin…

SORTING HAT: Pardon me?

SIRIUS closes his eyes.

SIRIUS: Not Slytherin, please, not Slytherin…

SORTING HAT: “Not Slytherin”?

A Black!?

GRYFFINDOR!

SIRIUS opens his eyes. The Great Hall is silent. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables start clapping cordially, but stop when no one follows.

BELLATRIX stands up to get a better glance and throws a hateful glance at SIRIUS. NARCISSA imitates her, looking at SIRIUS with her mouth and eyes wide open.

DUMBLEDORE looks shocked for a while during the silence but then he smiles, stands up and starts clapping alone.

The rest of the teachers follow and small number of Gryffindors start clapping then, and eventually they start clapping more and more until they are chanting and whistling. There is a sense of victory an gain from the oldest students.

SIRIUS walks towards the Gryffindor table and sits alone, relaxed, not looking anxious anymore. Some older students welcome him and pat his back, and he smiles.

BELLATRIX starts walking to the Gryffindor table but NARCISSA follows her and grabs her arm.

BELLATRIX: (screaming) This is outrageous! That fucking hat is a LIAR!

NARCISSA: Compose yourself, Bella!

The Slytherin table starts whispering. MALFOY approaches them and try to calm BELLATRIX down. Another few Slytherins gather around to pacify them.

MCGONAGALL calls to order making a small sound with a cup.

JAMES contemplates the scene with eyes wide open. PETER looks like he’s about to faint.

PETER: Merlin’s beard!

JAMES: (mouth open) …

PETER: That was…

JAMES: That was the most badass thing I have ever seen!

PETER: … awful! Now that means we’re going to have to be in class with him!

JAMES: I don’t think he’s all that bad. He’s a Gryffindor. Did you see how Dumbledore stood up to applaud?

PETER: But he’s a Black!

JAMES: And a Gryffindor! The Gryffindor crosses out the Black.

PETER: I’m not so sure about that!

JAMES: What do you think, Lupin? Isn’t that something?

REMUS: (distracted) Uh? Oh. I guess it’s… uncanny.

REMUS looks nervous and uneasy, like the waiting is taking too long. JAMES keeps looking back in awe at SIRIUS who is already sitting at the Gryffindor table.

MCGONAGALL (distant): Evans, Lily!

SORTING HAT (distant): GRYFFINDOR!

MCGONAGALL (distant): Hollyheat, Winnie!

SORTING HAT (distant): HUFFLEPUFF!

MCGONAGALL (distant): Jaspers, Hugh!

SORTING HAT (distant): RAVENCLAW!

MCGONAGALL: Lupin, Remus!

JAMES: (bumping REMUS softly with his shoulder) You’re on, mate.

PETER: Good luck!

REMUS nods at them and slowly starts walking towards the hat. His legs look like they’re about to fail at any moment.

MCGONAGALL smiles at him warmly and he tries to return the smile, unsuccessfully. He sits up and closes his eyes very hard, as if he is about to receive an impact, and MCGONAGALL places the SORTING HAT on his head.

SORTING HAT: Well, well, well… What do we have here?

REMUS: (whispering) I’m sorry.

SORTING: You’re sorry? Oh… Oh, I see…

REMUS: (whispering, scared) Please, don’t tell anything…

SORTING HAT: Tell what? I’m only a hat, boy… And I can see that you are probably one of the bravest people that has ever wore me. Congratulations. You have also a keen mind… you think you could make a good Ravenclaw. But you aren’t only intelligent… you pursue knowledge.

REMUS: (whispering) I know that. I have always liked books.

SORTING HAT: I am of the idea that a mind like yours would be more fitting for Slytherin… What are your thoughts on this?

REMUS: …

REMUS: (whispering) … no.

I’m brainy… I know that.

But I want to be brave.

SORTING CHAT: Clever boy… GRYFFINDOR!

The Great Hall bursts into applause, just like it does with any other student. REMUS gets up smiling and walks to his table. He sits by a small group of first years, next to a red haired girl, who instantly turns to him.

LILY: (cheerfully) Hi! I’m Lily.

REMUS: (a bit awkward, glancing around) Hello. I’m Remus. Lupin.

LILY: I saw you at the train station. Your mom is a muggle, right?

REMUS: (uncomfortable) Yes… that seems to be a topic of conversation.

LILY: Both my parents are muggle. And my sister. I noticed because of her cross necklace. Wizards don’t believe in religion.

REMUS: (more relaxed) Oh! That’s a relief. I was talking to these two boys, but I think we don’t get along so much because they’re both full wizards…

LILY: Yeah… I haven’t really talked to anyone yet. Apart from Severus. But he hasn’t been sorted yet, he’s still waiting.

REMUS: Who is he?

LILY: He’s a friend from my neighborhood.

REMUS: Seems nice. In my neighborhood… there are only muggles. So I don’t really have any friends. Here, I mean.

LILY: Well, that's fun. It gives you the opportunity to meet a lot of people.

REMUS: I guess…

MCGONAGALL (distant): Pettigrew, Peter!

SORTING HAT (distant): GRYFFINDOR!

PETER sighs in relief, so stressed out that it seems like he is about to faint, all sweaty, and trips on his way to the Gryffindor table, but luckily doesn’t fall.

MCGONAGALL (distant): Potter, James!

SORTING HAT (distant): GRYFFINDOR!

JAMES smiles triumphantly, proud of himself, bows to his audience and shakes hands with MCGONAGALL when she grabs the hat, who looks at him frowning but amused.

PETER welcomes JAMES warmly into the table and points at the place that has saved for him. But JAMES walks straight towards SIRIUS and sits by his side. SIRIUS turns around to examine JAMES, a little surprised.

JAMES presents his hand to him.

JAMES: (joyfully) James Potter. Here to serve you, sir.

SIRIUS shakes his hand, entertained.

SIRIUS: Potter… (in a reflexive way) Ah, I know you. My mother says you are all a bunch of blood traitors for being related to muggles and connecting with their culture. She opines you and your family are not pure-bloods, but a disgrace to the wizarding community and should all be locked up in Azkaban.

JAMES: I… guess?

SIRIUS: Do you want to be friends?

JAMES: Yes.

SIRIUS: Fantastic.

JAMES smiles and takes out his chocolate frog card deck. SIRIUS notices and takes out his own deck instantly.

JAMES: I was wondering… is there any chance you own a Jocunda Sykes card you would trade for, not one, but TWO Artemesia Lufkins?

SIRIUS: (checking out his cards) You are out of your mind if you think even two Artemesia Lufkins are worth a Jocunda Sykes… I’ll trade if you give me a Godric Gryffindor one, too.

JAMES checks his cards and when he finds the one he’s looking for he looks up cheerfully and smiles.

JAMES: Deal!

SIRIUS: (exchanging cards) Great…

PETER looks at them sadly and sighs.

17. DOORMROOM – CLEAR NIGHT

The moon is visible before the camera focuses on the kids. It is almost full.

PETER: It’s such a coincidence we’re all in the same room! Don’t you think?

REMUS is lying on his bed already wearing pijamas and reading Alice in Wonderland.

JAMES: It’s not a coincidence, Peter. They pair you up magically with whoever you meet first.

PETER: Oh…

SIRIUS: I don’t think that’s true.

JAMES: Do you have a better theory?

SIRIUS: Not really…

JAMES: Then that’s settled. You three are the first people I met at Hogwarts, and now I’m stuck with you for all long seven years! Not that I’m complaining.

JAMES hops to his bed and starts jumping on it.

PETER: Ha! Good one, James!

PETER imitates.

SIRIUS: What are you doing?

JAMES: (laughing) Stretching out the strings!

SIRIUS gets on his bed and starts jumping too.

SIRIUS: This is fuuuuuuun!

REMUS looks bothered from his bed.

REMUS: Excuse me… can you make less noise?

SIRIUS stops, and so do JAMES and PETER.

SIRIUS: Sorry. I hadn’t seen you there. You’re so quiet.

REMUS: (dismissing it) It’s alright.

SIRIUS hops off his bed and walks up to REMUS’ bed.

SIRIUS: What’s your name?

REMUS: Remus Lupin.

SIRIUS: (reflexively) Lupin… doesn’t ring a bell.

REMUS: (in a mood) Do you lot have to know the story of every family? In what world do you live in?

SIRIUS: (surprised) Whoah… easy there, mate.

REMUS:  Sorry, I just… (apologetically) I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just very tired. And tomorrow’s the first day of school…

SIRIUS: (frownish) And?

REMUS: I don’t know. Aren’t you excited?

SIRIUS: About school? No thanks. I have been tutored since I was three years old. I’ve had enough school for life!

JAMES: I am actually a bit excited. Curious, even.

SIRIUS: Enjoy yourselves, then.

REMUS: (annoyed, still focusing on SIRIUS) Are you just not gonna care about school? And just fail every class?

SIRIUS: I don't know. I’ll decide on the fly. Where are you from? You speak funny.

REMUS: I’m from Cardiff… and you’re from London, you don’t need to tell. (rolling his eyes)

SIRIUS: Yes, I am. Even though I technically descend from France… my family emigrated from Normandy on the 10th century, you know…

REMUS: Yeah. (he snorts, entertained) You’re so french. And I’m so very going to sleep.

REMUS places his book on the small table beside his bed.

REMUS: (ironically) Bonne nuit!

REMUS closes his curtains.

SIRIUS: (innocently and sincerely) Bonne nuit!

PETER: (pronouncing badly) Bonnui!

JAMES looks at SIRIUS raising his eyebrow.

SIRIUS: What?

JAMES: Never mind. Do you wanna play flavored beans?

SIRIUS: Sure! But I warn you, I play the hardcore version. I stick three of them in my mouth and try to guess each flavor distinctively.

REMUS looks sad inside the curtains of his bed, and sticks his head under the pillow to avoid the noises.

(chatter starts fading)

PETER: Ha! That’s nothing. This summer I stuck SEVEN beans in my mouth.

JAMES: That’s true.

(chatter fades into yet ANOTHER frame of the moon)

18. HOGWARTS STAIRS – MORNING

The stairs are crowded with students trying to make their way to class.

REMUS spots LILY in the multitude and makes her way through to her.

LILY: Hi Remus!

REMUS: Hi Lily.

LILY: It’s impossible to get to class, is so crowdy!

REMUS: Yeah… I guess everyone is trying to get to the same place.

MCGONAGALL appears and starts making space, encouraging students to move along.

MCGONAGALL: Come on! Don’t block the stairs! Third years, up, second years, down, first years, with me!

REMUS and LILY start following MCGONAGALL alongside the other students.

REMUS: Where are your roommates?

LILY: They’re braiding each other’s hair in the dorms. I didn’t want to be late to class.

REMUS nods understandingly. SEVERUS looks at them sorrowfully from the crowd lead by SLUGHORN, already down the hallway.

19. TRANSMUTATION CLASS

REMUS and LILY are sitting next to each other. The classroom is wide and the students’ desks are distributed in pairs. MCGONAGALL’s table is at the top centre, in front of a blackboard.

MCGONAGALL: Welcome, students, to your transmutation class! Some of you might be wondering what transmutation is all about. Well (she moves in front of her desk) I’ll show you–

The door opens abruptly. JAMES, SIRIUS and PETER enter the classroom with their ties untied and carrying their sweaters alongside their books on their hands.

SIRIUS: Sorry, Miss!

MCGONAGALL: It will be “Professor” for you, Mr. Black. And for the rest of you (gestures the room). Is there any particular reason why you lot decided to be late today?

JAMES: We fell asleep, Professor. And our roommate who got here early didn’t wake us up.

REMUS purses his lips and bows down, a bit regretfully.

MCGONAGALL: (unpitifully) Pitiful. Now, please, find your seats.

PETER and JAMES look at REMUS disgruntedly as they seat. SIRIUS looks unbothered and sits alone on the back of the class.

MCGONAGALL: As I was about to show you, this is all Transfiguration is about.

MCGONAGALL transforms into her cat form, MINNIE. The students gasp and MINNIE jumps up to the professor’s table. There she transforms back into MCGONAGALL, sitting.

MCGONAGALL: Transfiguration focuses on the alteration of the form or appearance of an object via the alteration of its molecular structure. (stating) Does anyone know what a molecular structure is?

No one raises their hands. Some students look at each other questioningly.

LILY raises her hand.

MCGONAGALL: Yes? Ms. Evans, right?

LILY: That's right, professor.

MCGONAGALL: Go ahead.

LILY: The molecular structure of an object is the very very small pieces that conform it. They can’t be seen with the human eye, so we use special lenses for that, like microscopes. It’s something that physics study.

MCGONAGALL: Very interesting, Ms. Evans… for a Muggle Studies class. (severely) This is Transfiguration. (some students laugh) Does anybody have a better answer than Ms. Evans?

There is a silence. Students look at each other again and whisper. LILY rises her hand again.

MCGONAGALL: Yes, Ms. Evans?

LILY: (awkwardly) The molecular structure is the essence of an object.

MCGONAGALL: Very well, Evans. That’s an answer. A wrong one, but an answer still.

The students laugh again. LILY looks down, covering her face with her red hair.

MCGONAGALL: In Transfiguration we don’t use words like “molecular structure”. Are we clear?

STUDENTS (simultaneously): Yes, professor.

LILY: (whispering to REMUS) I didn’t know.

REMUS: (whispering back) I didn’t know either.

20. OUTSIDE OF CLASS – MORNING

LILY and REMUS are getting out of class when JAMES, PETER and SIRIUS reach them.

JAMES: (laughing) Molecular structure! Ha, ha, ha! I think I’m gonna be laughing for ages!

PETER and SIRIUS laugh with him.

LILY: …

JAMES: (mockingly) Did you plan on answering forever until you got the right one? Ha, ha, ha!

PETER: Good one, James!

LILY: (fed up) Leave me alone!

REMUS: (shyly) Yeah– sod off, James.

JAMES keeps laughing but walks away, and PETER and SIRIUS walk with him.

LILY: Those are your roommates? They’re absolute idiots!

REMUS: Well– That’s a strong word.

LILY: They mocked me!

REMUS: (uncomfortable) Well, technically– the whole class mocked you.

LILY: (looking treasoned) I see.

LILY throws him an upset look and starts walking away fast.

REMUS: Lily!

REMUS is about to walk after her but he stops and sighs, letting her go.

21. THE GREAT HALL – LUNCHTIME, CLEAR DAY

REMUS is sitting and reading while eating whole boiled eggs, peacefully. He keeps his books next to him on the bench so no one sits. Suddenly three people burst out of nowhere. SIRIUS puts the books up on the table and sits with him, JAMES rolls under the table to sit in front of them and PETER follows him, getting stuck.

SIRIUS: (stretching out) Finally lunchtime! I’m STARVING.

PETER: (stressed out) I’m stuck, I’m stuck!

JAMES: Don’t worry, Petey, I’ll save you!

JAMES gets under the table and starts pulling him up from the arms.

SIRIUS: (laughing) OH MERLIN, we have a F. A. T. code!

JAMES: (laughing) Good one, Sirius! (still pulling)

PETER: That’s not funny! I’m going to DIE here!

REMUS: OH MY GOD, STOP SCREAMING!

PETER: STOP! STOP PULLING, JAMES, MY ARM HURTS!

PETER suddenly slips through the table and slides a few meters from there until he crashes with the Hufflepuff table, hitting his head.

PETER: Ouch!

MCGONAGALL is sticking out her wand and pointing it at PETER. She guards it down again and looks down at the boys severely.

MCGONAGALL: You will access your seats from the side of the table and not from under. Are we clear?

SIRIUS, JAMES, PETER: (scared) Yes, professor.

MCGONAGALL glances severely at them. Afterwards she looks down to REMUS and smiles at him. REMUS returns the smile shyly, and MCGONAGALL leaves.

JAMES, SIRIUS and PETER find their seats, PETER walking from the Hufflepuff table scratching his head. REMUS returns to his book and keeps eating. SIRIUS looks at him slightly disgusted.

SIRIUS: (unbelievably) What are you doing?

REMUS: Excuse me?

SIRIUS: Why are you eating eggs like that?

REMUS looks at the half-ate boiled egg on his hand and shrugs.

REMUS: I’m hungry.

JAMES: Have you actually eaten all that?

JAMES points at the huge empty trays of food before them.

SIRIUS: Yeah, you know that’s supposed to be for everyone, right?

REMUS: I-I…

PETER: And how come you’re so skinny if you eat so much?

REMUS: I-I don't know!

SIRIUS, JAMES and PETER look at each other and shrug

(PLAY MUSIC)

The trays fill themselves magically.

PETER: Cool!

SIRIUS smiles and starts eating. From the Slytherin table he sees BELLATRIX, smiling at him maniacally like she knows something he doesn’t know, and he stops for a second.

JAMES: (perceptively) What’s the matter?

SIRIUS: N-nothing, I…

A black owl flies inside the Hall catching everybody’s eye, and doesn’t stop anywhere particularly. It is holding an envelope.

JAMES: (mouth full) What is that? Mailed arrived during breakfast.

SIRIUS looks at it terrified, recognizing it. The black owl starts flying lower and closer to the Gryffindor table. Some students have to bow their hands down to not be hit by it.

STUDENTS: Hey!

The owl starts flying down around SIRIUS, JAMES, REMUS and PETER until it squeaks loudly and falls on the table before them. Some students gasp.

FEMALE STUDENT: Is it dead???

The owl squeaks again and cries in pain, squirming on the table. Tears start falling down SIRIUS’ eyes, disgusted. Its black feathers start convolving and rearranging its form, revealing WALBURGA’s bust, who is looking at SIRIUS hatefully. Students around them and around the Hall gasp, and DUMBLEDORE gets up, alarmed.

WALBURGA (DEAD OWL FORM): (calmly) You are a disgrace. You have humiliated me. You are a bad son, and for that you shall by punished.

Tears rush down SIRIUS’ eyes, out of fear.

WALBURGA (DEAD OWL FORM): (speaking loudly) You are a freak. Surrounding yourself with blood traitors, filthy half-breeds and nasty squibs! (screaming on top of her lungs) FILTH, SCUM, BY-PRODUCTS OF DIRT AND VILENESS…

DUMBLEDORE stands up and diminishes the spell with a flip of his wand. WALBURGA (DEAD OWL FORM) vanishes leaving a trail of feathers on the table.

(MUSIC STOPS)

DUMBLEDORE: Lunch shall continue.

DUMBLEDORE sits down.

Tears are rushing down SIRIUS’ eyes and he is breathing difficultly. BELLATRIX smiles, amused, and NARCISSA looks at her rolling her eyes. JAMES, PETER and REMUS stay very still, unsure of what to do.

SIRIUS wipes away his tears and looks down at his plate, meddling with his fork. There is an awkward silence between the four.

SIRIUS: So… the Cannons are back on first.

JAMES swallows hard without looking up.

JAMES: Yeah… that’s what everyone is talking about since Ursula Tobbytott’s signing.

SIRIUS: She’s a great player. The Holyheads don’t know what they’ve lost.

JAMES: And they won’t know what hit them on the 23th! (JAMES looks at SIRIUS smiling). That game’s going to be epic.

SIRIUS: (smiling softly) Probably a bludger from her side of the pitch.

JAMES laughs, and PETER joins in.

JAMES: That’s right.

REMUS looks at them with his eyebrows furrowed, worried and a bit surprised. He takes another bite of egg and turns back to reading silently.

22. HOGWARTS – LATE AFTERNOON, ALMOST SUNDOWN

REMUS is following MCGONAGALL through a hall. The paintings follow them with strange looks.

They walk in silence. They get out of the school and walk the field to a big tree.

MCGONAGALL: We called it the “Whomping Willow”

REMUS: Why?

They are close enough now, and the willow starts to shake. One of its thick branches attempt to hit REMUS, who needs to bow down.

REMUS: (surprised and a bit scared) Okay! I see.

MCGONAGALL: You must pull this branch here.

MCGONAGALL bends down to where the roots end, a few meters away from the willow.

MCGONAGALL: It will calm it long enough for you to get through.

MCGONAGALL pulls the root and the willow stops its motion.

MCGONAGALL: Come on. Follow me.

They get inside the passage under the willow.

23. THE SHRIEKING SHACK

When they get out, they are in a cozy living room.

MCGONAGALL: We figured you would need a place to ready yourself and feel comfortable in case Madame Pomfrey is late to pick you up. There is also a first aid kit in the bathroom.

REMUS: (looking around, surprised) This is not a jail.

MCGONAGALL: It is not.

They walk around the house. REMUS goes to the kitchen sink and opens it: there is running water.

MCGONAGALL: I will place protection spells from outside the house so you won’t be able to get out during the transformation. (she looks at the sunset) It is almost time. I better be going.

MCGONAGALL turns around to come back to the passage.

REMUS: Professor!

MCGONAGALL turns her head.

MCGONAGALL: Hm?

REMUS: (moved) Thank you. Please, thank the Headmaster for me. And Madame Pomfrey, too.

MCGONAGALL smiles fondly.

MCGONAGALL: You’re welcome, Mr. Lupin. And I will.

MCGONAGALL disappears under the passage.

24. DORMROOM – CLEAR NIGHT

The boys are sleeping. All of them, but PETER.

PETER is rolling on his bed trying to sleep, muttering something.

PETER: “Good one, Sirius” “You’re so funny, Sirius”. Ugh… stop it.

PETER realizes he is cold. The window is open and he gets up to close it. By the window he notices REMUS’ bed. The curtains are closed.

PETER: Psst. Psst. Lupin. Do you want to be my new best friend?

PETER opens the curtain a little bit, and the realizes the bed is empty. He opens it wide and wonders if he should tell the others.

JAMES (on his sleep): Molecular…

PETER turns around, afraid he’s been caught, but SIRIUS and JAMES are still sleeping soundly. PETER closes up the curtain again and gets back to his bed.

25. DORMROOM – RAINY MORNING

The boys are dressing up in a hurry, they’re late again.

JAMES: (jumping around putting on a sock) That damned Lupin!

SIRIUS: The guy just wants to get there early (looking at JAMES’ quidditch magazine). It’s not like we care, anyways.

JAMES: Whatever. (knocks in the bathroom door) Peter, are you done!?

PETER (from the inside): Not yet! I ate a looooot of potatoes last night. Sorry!

JAMES: Ugh!

SIRIUS shrugs.

JAMES: We better run, then.

26. TRANSMUTATION CLASS

JAMES, SIRIUS and PETER enter in a hurry. Luckily, MCGONAGALL is not there yet.

JAMES glances around trying to find REMUS, but REMUS isn’t there.

PETER: Sirius, do you want to sit with me?

SIRIUS: Sure.

JAMES looks at them surprised and is left alone to sit with LILY.

LILY: (upset) God, please, no.

JAMES: There aren’t any free desks!

LILY: You have some nerve.

JAMES: (awkwardly) It’s not like I want to sit with you, anyway…

LILY: We’re on the same page.

JAMES: Great.

JAMES turns around to speak to SIRIUS, who is bending back on his chair looking at the ceiling.

JAMES: (mouthing) Lupin’s not here.

SIRIUS: (mouthing) And?

JAMES: (mouthing) It’s odd.

PETER: (mouthing) Maybe he left for Durmstrang. He said he wasn’t gonna be here long.

JAMES: (mouthing) Really?

MCGONAGALL enters the room and behind her the door closes magically with a bang. She stands in front of her desk and places some books there.

MCGONAGALL: Good morning, students. Today we are going to talk about viciousness. Can anyone tell me what viciousness is?

A few hands rise, and the class begins.

LILY: (whispering to JAMES) I know where Lupin is.

27. THE INFIRMARY – LUNCHTIME

MADAME POMFREY is walking towards REMUS’ bed with a tray of food. REMUS is asleep, and MADAME POMFREY leaves the tray on the side table and sits beside him on the bed.

MADAME POMFREY: Come on, little darling, it’s lunchtime.

REMUS slowly wakes up. He yawns and scratches his eyes.

MADAME POMFREY: How are you feeling, sweetie?

REMUS: (voice broken) Well… pretty good, actually. It don’t feel pain. I don’t… feel, in general.

MADAME POMFREY: You were experiencing great pain from the transformation, so I put you on a sedative and some Sleeping Draught. Are you okay with that?

REMUS: (surprised by the question, grateful for the sedative) Yeah… Anything.

MADAME POMFREY: Well, I have been a healer for a few years now but I had never encountered a case such as yours! I don’t know right away what’s going to work so the firs months I will switch remedies to find the one that works best, okay?

REMUS: (smiling gratefully) Okay…

MADAME POMFREY: Now, how are we feeling about some lunch?

REMUS: I’m staving…

MADAME POMFREY: Interesting… I mean…! Here you go.

MADAME POMFREY places the tray on REMUS’ legs and he starts eating frantically. MADAME POMFREY smiles fondly at him.

A sound of the door opening causes MADAME POMFREY to get up, walking away from the frame to find who’s getting inside. REMUS keeps eating.

MADAME POMFREY (distant): I’m sorry, you can’t be here.

SIRIUS (distant): We’re visiting!

REMUS sits up, surprised, and tries to move the tray to put it on the table, but it is too heavy.

MADAME POMFREY (distant): Lunchtime is almost over, you must come back to your lessons.

JAMES (distant): But we brought eggs! And pie!

MADAME POMFREY (distant): Who are you visiting?

JAMES (distant): Remus Lupin!

REMUS opens up the curtain and waves, with his mouth full of mashed potatoes. On the other side, near the front door, there are JAMES, SIRIUS and PETER, who is holding a plate with a generous portion of pumpkin pie.

JAMES: There he is! Can we at least give him the pie?

MADAME POMFREY frowns but looks at REMUS. REMUS witnesses the scene with a bit of a shock: he wasn’t expecting anyone to visit, and he is gladly surprised.

REMUS looks at MADAME POMFREY and nods slightly.

MADAME POMFREY: (sighing) Alright. But just five minutes!

JAMES: Great!

JAMES, SIRIUS and PETER approach REMUS and stand by his bed.

JAMES: (worriedly) Remus! What happened?

REMUS: I had a stomach ache yesterday afternoon so… I went to the infirmary. And I stayed because it got worse during the night, but I’m better now.

SIRIUS: It’s no surprise considering how much you were eating.

PETER: Here, Remus. (presenting the pie) We brought you pie. We thought it’d cheer you up, but considering you’re stomach ill…

REMUS: (taking the plate from PETER’s hands hungrily) No, no; as I said, I’m feeling better.

PETER: I’m glad.

JAMES: So… are you coming back to class? Or will you have to stay here longer?

REMUS: I think I’ll stay longer, but I’ll sleep in the dorms today… I hope.

JAMES nods. REMUS starts eating the pie in silence. He looks at the three boys, and they are all looking at it.

REMUS: Do you want some?

JAMES: Yeah…

SIRIUS: Yes!

PETER: Do you have extra forks? Can I use my hands?

REMUS smiles seeing them split up the pie.

(TIME LAPSE)

The boys have already finished their pie pieces and are chatting about their class day. REMUS’ tray is on the table, and they are all sitting around the bed.

SIRIUS: And then Caradoc did that thing with his wand and his nose just stretched up like a pig!

JAMES: It was hilarious.

PETER: Even Flitwick laughed!

JAMES: Yeah; he said he had never seen a student succeed in that spell so early, specially while trying to perform a different one!

They all laugh.

MADAME POMFREY is reading some files on her table, and smiles at the sight of them, shaking her head.

REMUS yawns and gets comfortable on the bed.

REMUS: You should go. You’ll be late to class, otherwise.

JAMES: Right. Let’s roll, gentlemen!

SIRIUS: We’ll see you at the dorm.

PETER: Yes! You missed mail today: my parents sent me my chess game.

JAMES: Oh, the damned chess game!

PETER: I love to play chess.

REMUS: (smiling) We’ll play.

PETER: Great!

SIRIUS and PETER wave their hands and leave. JAMES waves as well, but starts walking slower.

REMUS: James.

JAMES turns around rapidly, brows raised. REMUS half smiles.

(PLAY MUSIC)

REMUS: I’ll see you later, friend.

JAMES smiles widely, thrilled.

JAMES: I’m looking forward to that, fine sir.

REMUS smiles and JAMES turns around with one last smile, hurrying his pace to meet PETER and SIRIUS’.

REMUS lays down, ready to sleep. MADAME POMFREY goes up to cover him with the sheets and turns out the light beside his bed with a tip of her wand.

CREDITS

(MUSIC STOPS)

28. DUMBLEDORE’S OFFICE – CLEAR NIGHT

DUMBLEDORE is reading some papers on his desk. FAWKES is pecking on her feathers calmly, almost effortlessly. The spiral staircase spins and MCGONAGALL enters the office. DUMBLEDORE looks up and takes off his glasses, leaving the papers beside him. MCGONAGALL walks towards the desk and stands in front of him.

MCGONAGALL: You wanted to see me, Albus?

DUMBLEDORE: Please, take a sit.

MCGONAGALL sits on one of the chairs in front of the desk.

They stay in silence for a while, DUMBLEDORE fiddling through his drawers. Finally he takes out a small piece of candy and presents it to her.

DUMBLEDORE: Would you care for a sherbet melon?

MCGONAGALL: A what?

DUMBLEDORE: A sherbet melon. I have been trying muggle sweets lately. They are rather tasteful.

MCGONAGALL: No, thank you.

DUMBLEDORE nods and puts it on his mouth.

DUMBLEDORE: Something extraordinary happened this year.

MCGONAGALL: Yes.

DUMBLEDORE: The boy is going to require protection from within his house. And we cannot miss the opportunity.

MCGONAGALL stutters. She was understanding at first, but she isn’t anymore.

MCGONAGALL: Opportunity? Opportunity for what?

DUMBLEDORE: We cannot sit blind to the fact that war is ahead. His numbers are growing bigger, not smaller. I have to ask too much of you, Minerva. You have to look for the boy.

MCGONAGALL: I–

DUMBLEDORE: It is likely the Black family is going to retaliate. And for when that happens, he must be protected.

MCGONAGALL: (refusing) Tens of students are in danger, Albus. Specially muggle-born students. And only because he belongs to an important family...

DUMBLEDORE: A dangerous family, Minerva. A powerful family. And he is a Gryffindor, let us not let that pass.

MCGONAGALL: (upset, raising her voice) Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin... what does it matter? These are children we are talking about! They’re not chess pieces for you to play with.

DUMBLEDORE: (harshly, raising his voice higher) Either I play with them, or He plays. I suspect you to be bright enough to discern which of both options is preferable.

MCGONAGALL looks down. She sighs.

DUMBLEDORE: (calmly) You must have heard he is recruiting werewolves.

MCGONAGALL looks up, eyebrows furrowed.

DUMBLEDORE: I do not know when it is going to be, but we only stand once chance to defeat him.

MCGONAGALL: So if he starts recruiting giants you are just going to follow?

DUMBLEDORE rises one of his eyebrows.

MCGONAGALL: Hagrid...

DUMBLEDORE: Precisely.

MCGONAGALL: I can’t believe this...

DUMBLEDORE caresses FAWKES, who is squeaking a little, at the limit of her life.

DUMBLEDORE: Difficult times are ahead. And we have to think of the future. We cannot know how things are going to be in five, six, seven years. His power could be immense.

MCGONAGALL: (displeased) I know. I know.

DUMBLEDORE: I trust you the most within these grounds, Minerva. But we cannot afford infighting. Sometimes you are just going to have to accept my decisions, and maybe, watch me make mistakes. I need to you trust me as much as I trust you.

MCGONAGALL stares at FAWKES for a bit. She squeaks loudly one last time and bursts into flame. The fire shines in MCGONAGALL’s eyes.

MCGONAGALL: (still looking at FAWKES) Yes. I understand.

(PLAY MUSIC)

FAWKES’ ashes start churning, and a small chick rises its newborn head. MCGONAGALL caresses her head a bit. DUMBLEDORE observes them putting his glasses back on and reaching for his papers.

END OF EPISODE 1

[ziaxkawaii]

Worth more than some perceive (Victorian!Todoroki X F!Reader) Part 1

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Warnings: None.

Other: Quirks aren't a thing in this particular story and Endeavour's just being a piece of crap

Summary: Living hand to mouth was not easy in the Victorian ages, but you managed. Being nothing more than a dressmaker surrounded by rich people, you doubted someone would be interested in you. But you were proven wrong when you occasionally started to find neatly wrapped up little gifts on your threshold in the mornings.

Part 2 Here!     Part 3 Here!

~"(Name)! We got another order!" Your older brother William shouted from behind a corner. You really weren't paying attention to what he was saying as you were sewing a delicate silver ornament on the front of a beautiful dress.

~The ornament was what would catch most of the attention upon first look at the gown, so it had to be sewn perfectly, and by a steady hand. So you couldn't afford to make any mistakes or you would have hell to pay later.

~"(Name)!! Didn't you hear what I said?" Your brother enters the backroom of the boutique where you were working along with some papers in his hands. He looked and sounded a bit annoyed, but you knew it was unintentional. It has been especially a stressful week.

~"I did, but I am kind of in the middle of something here..." You trailed off as you stuck out your tongue in concentration and still not looking in your brother's direction.

~"Oh, apologizes sister. I thought you were having your break." He spoke more softly this time as he took a seat at his desk that was right next to yours.

~"I would be, but I have to finish this gown before closing. The customer said they would come to pick it up today."

~"I've noticed you have been working more lately. You must be more tired than usual." He pointed out, with a saddened tone.

~"Thank you for reminding me." You flatly commented as you continued to work.

~"I didn't mean to insult you, I'm just worried about your health." You scowled as you finally finished sewing the ornament and cut off the excess thread.

~"Yes, I have been working more lately since I also have to do a part of your work too. For example, last week you were gone for two days when you went to market our shop to the extravagant ball that had wealthy people from all over the capital." You still weren't looking at him.

~"And while you were spending time talking to very important people. I was here at the boutique doing my AND your work for those days." You looked over your masterpiece. Looking for any imperfections or accidental tea stains, finding none. "Plus, you wore one of my most expensive, delicate, and time-consuming suits." You continued your rant.

~"I have never made anything as high-quality as that suit, so if you somehow managed to get even one stain on it, you best believe I would have made you beg for mercy on your knees." You slipped the gown on a mannequin and spread the hem of the dress and took a step back to really see how it would look in the action.

~"It is breathtaking." William commented behind you.

~"William...." You said warningly as you finally turned to him, brushing non-existing dust off your dress skirt and long dress sleeves before crossing your arms. You could admit that right now you may act a little too harshly but you were tired and it clouded your judgment a bit.

~"Alright, alright, I know. But I already told you why all of it was necessary. We have to get our name out there, and what better way to promote our glorious suits and gorgeous dresses than letting them see them see first hand! You should have seen how intrigued and impressed all the men and women were when they saw me." He tried to lift your spirit by smiling brightly and jumping up and down a little.

~He wasn't wrong. If you two wanted more customers than the locals, you had to expand your promotion. And it took lots of effort and skill to lure people to consider buying your clothing, and William was good at that. And since you were a bit more advanced in sewing than William, it meant that you could get work done faster, hence you could handle the workload if he had to leave for a while. So you were always left to sew alone at the boutique.

~But it still bothered you.

~"I know, but it still frustrates me that it's always you who gets to go to the magnificent balls, wearing luxurious clothing while I'm here by myself working my arse off." You ranted while you paced back and forth in front of him. “They probably thought you tailored that suit and not me.”

~"I specifically told them that you, my dear sister, had been the one who made it." He grabbed your shoulder, in a last effort to stop your nonsense blabbering.

~"And you think they were listening? "A young woman couldn't possibly make something so prestigious and form-fitting for a businessman." "She surely couldn't have made it." "There is no way she designed it." I've heard them all!"

~"Calm down (Name)... You're breathing heavily again..." You didn't even realize you were. You took a couple of deep breaths and gazed at the floor.

~"It's just so... unfair..." You said depressed as you hugged him. You knew it had to be this way, but after a while, you start to grave for a taste of something new and exciting. Not the same old, same old bread that you have been chewing for the last few years.

~William knew how much more credit he was getting than you since most people automatically assume he's the one who designs the suits and accessories because he's the man who people first meet. In reality, it's you who does that. You're the one who basically runs the boutique, not him. William hugged you tightly back.

~"I know (Name)... I know."

~~~

~"Oh, did I forget to mention that a customer had booked an hour-appointment for this morning?" William asked as he went through some mail at his desk. You were just walking down the stairs from your shared home with your tea in hand.

~It was very convenient to have the boutique on the first floor and then your living quarters on the second. Affordable and comfortable, that's what you say. And you were always on time to open the store for customers.

~And with you being happy for once in a long time as you got a good night's rest, you figured that this day would be over in a breeze. You sipped your drink and sat down at your own work desk.

~"Yes, you forgot to mention. Did they say anything special in the letter?" You inquired.

~"Hmm..." He quickly read the letter again. "They said they wanted us to make a suit for them. Said that they would discuss more once they're here."

~"Interesting, It has been a while since we've made a custom suit. Did you get the name of the customer?"

~William looked at the letter again to see who the suit it was for, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers as he read the name.

~"Bloody hell!" He exclaimed as he jumped from his seat.

~"What is it, brother?" You questioned as you put down your empty teacup.

~"The customer is Enji Todoroki!!!"

~"WHAT!!!" It was your turn to shout and jump up from your seat. By what chance was someone so well known as Mr. Todoroki, coming to buy a suit from your small boutique?

~"Are you serious!? You mean... the owner of the steam train factory!?" You jumped from your seat ecstatic.

Enji Todoroki was well known for his very serious and hypercritical personality, and he even made a bigger name for himself when he funded the designing and building of the newest and the fastest train in the country. You didn't really favor him for his gruff and intimidating attitude, nor did your brother, but this was an amazing opportunity to get more publicity for your business since he is, a well-known and respected man amongst the wealthy.

~"Exactly him!!!" He confirmed.

~"I can't believe this!!! This is amazing for the business if he is satisfied with the outcome of the suit!" 

~"You said it, sister." He smiled brightly.

~Just then, the doorbell rang in the main area and multiple pairs of footsteps could be heard step inside the boutique. You and William looked at each other and breathed in together, as a silent language to tell the other to 'calm down and act natural'. As though you weren't shouting just a second ago.

~William exited the back room first with you following suit with a tape measure hanging around your neck and a freshly dusted off dress.

~The actual boutique of the building wasn't anything too special nor expensive looking. In one room, there was a giant front desk with plenty of table space, the whole wall behind the desk was filled with different colored and/or patterned fabrics, the right side of the boutique had different styled dresses and suits neatly hanging on clothing racks for customers who wished to spend a bit less on looking good, and the whole left side of the store held a large mirror, a couple of couches for guests to sit on, and a folding screen for privacy.

~For rich people, it may look cheap, plain, or downright shameful. But for you and your brother, it was your pride and home.

~"Good morning Sir! Welcome to The Siblings Attire and Accessories! How may we help you, gentlemen?" William greeted the two males plus their butler.

~"When you see such a fine suit presented to you, you would think the tailor would have a better taste in furniture." Mr. Todoroki shamelessly commented and you and William internally winced. It was your first time meeting the man and you were already tempted to give him a piece of your mind. Instead, you silently exhaled and bit your lip.

~"We apologize if our shop looks a bit flimsy to your taste, but I can assure you that our clothing won't disappoint you." You stepped up next to your brother.

~"I sure hope so." You weren't listening to him, but instead, your attention shifted to the person standing a bit away from him. The male's eye-catching two-colored hair immediately caught your attention as soon as you walked into the room, and now that you had a better look at them, he seemed to have even different colored eyes.

~He also had a painful-looking scar over his left eye that somehow made his already interesting aspects look even more intriguing. Or perhaps it was a birthmark? Either way, he was handsome, you were not gonna lie.

~Clearly he didn't enjoy being near Mr. Todoroki, or maybe even here in the first place. You couldn't tell from his mildly annoyed look while he kept a fair distance. Poor man.

~"Over a week ago, I attended a ball that you also happened to be present at, and I saw your high-quality suit. I need you to make a similar one for my son Shoto. We are going to be attending another ball and he needs a new suit." He explained and the whole time he didn't even spare a glance at you, as though you weren't even there. But his son did give you a mute acknowledgment, which made you feel better.

~"Certainly. If you could come this way Mr. Todoroki, I will take your measurements." You motioned with your hand for the dual-hair-colored male to walk over to the mirror as you grabbed a notepad and a pen from a drawer. He complied and went to stand in front of the mirror.

~"Aren't you supposed to take his measurements." The older Todoroki asked your brother.

~"Um... Pardon?" He inquired back and you turned to look at the nobleman.

~"I just was just wondering. You're the one who's going to sew it after all?" You gripped the notepad in your hand tightly out of anger. Who does this man think he is to assume who's gonna make what, and expect to be right? 

~"I apologize Mr. Todoroki, but my sister was the one who tailored the suit I wore to the ball last week. So she will be making your son's suit." William corrected him nervously as you sensed the fire of anger burning behind you.

~"She will be sewing the suit?" Mr. Todoroki inquired, sounding like he believed this was some kind of a joke.

~You were very close to saying something to the bastard, but the Todoroki whose name you learned was Shoto beat you to it.

~"Shut it father, it doesn't matter. Let her just do her job." He said in an annoyed tone.

~Fortunately, Mr. Todoroki didn't have to be told twice as he let the subject go with a 'tch' and a look of irritation towards both your way. Shoto 'tch'ed in response and began to take his coat and hat off. He handed the articles of clothing to his butler and lifted his arms to let you take his measurements.

~You began to measure him and asking basic questions such as what kind of vest he wanted over his dress shirt and how long he wanted the coat to be.

~He decided on a basic five-button vest with a coat that ended at the back of his knees. He wanted no ruffles on his outfit except for the neck piece.

~"I prefer not to have them." He expressed.

~"I understand." You said as you scribbled down some notes in a hurry. "Now what fabrics do you want your suit to be made from?" You led him to the wall where you stored your fabrics. Letting him have a look at them.

~"If you don't have anything special on your mind, I can recommend some colors for you if you'd like."

~"Please do."

~"Well let's see..." You trailed off as you thought deeply. "I think this royal blue would suit you well along with white and pale gray." You grabbed the tree rolls of fabric and placed them on the counter behind you for Shoto to see how the colors looked next to each other.

"I can make the coat mainly from this royal blue, and I can add some accessories to it such as buttons or other details. The dress pants could be made from this white, and the vest from the gray. I could even add a chain for your pocket watch on the vest." You rambled as you quickly sketched a rough picture of the finished outfit.

~Shoto listened intently as you continued on explaining what would look best on him and questioned if he wanted to make any changes. He thought it was nice to have a say in what he wanted to wear, instead of it being decided for him. Every time, he'd feel uncomfortable wearing whatever the other tailors made for him, but he didn't want to waste their hard effort. Even if he did not appreciate the suit.

~This was a new experience for him and he liked it. You weren't pushing him to make the suit from the most expensive and uncomfortable materials. On the contrary, you let him feel the fabrics and then decide what he wanted.

~For once in his life, he enjoyed the suit tailoring process.

~"Oh, I apologize. I am rambling again." You looked downcast, embarrassed.

~"It's quite alright, but about the vest, could it be made from a fabric with a pattern instead?" he politely asked.

~"Of course! Which one would you prefer?" You pointed to the gray fabrics that were each differently patterned.

~"I would like that one." He pointed to a roll that was out of both of your reach.

~"Alright, let me get it for you." You spoke as you grabbed a step ladder and placed it in front of the shelf. 

~You grabbed the hem of your dress and carefully climbed up to grab the roll, but forgot how heavy the roll actually was, so you started to lose your balance on the ladder. Shoto noticed your struggle and swiftly came to your aid by grabbing the roll from the other end with one hand while the other went to your back.

~"Careful, you could fall and injure yourself." He cautioned you and you blushed slightly.

~"T-Thank you, I'll be more careful next time." You said and placed the roll on the table. 

~You continued on designing the suit while your brother William kept your other guests entertained. Soon you two came up with a plan and Shoto seemed happy with it. All of the men left the boutique shortly after with Shoto promising he'll come again later that week for the first fitting.

~For some reason, you were looking forward to meeting him again.

~"Goodness! That was intense." You sighed heavily as you sat down on the couch with your sketch-notepad on your lap.

~"Not sure what you were expecting. They are a part of the Todoroki family and they tend to thrive for perfection. So of course they would want the perfect suit." William sat next to you.

~"Still. What really made this appointment easier was that this time the customer wasn't demanding ridiculous things or asking for a lower price. They even paid the 50% upfront without even batting an eye." You recalled.

~"They know what they are doing, and as long as we do what we're paid for, we won't be having any problems." He said.

~"Talking about problems, I'm still kind of upset about what Mr. Todoroki said..."

~"I understand your issue (Name), but it's better to just let it go. We must know our place, and that is below them." He reminded you and you sighed in defeat.

~"You're right…

~~~

~The day of the first fitting came, and Shoto Todoroki walked inside the boutique accompanied by the same butler as last time, except this time his father wasn't there. 

~This fact brought some form of relief to him as he wasn't sure how much longer he could tolerate his father's presence. Every minute Shoto spent in the same room as his old man when they had guests over or when they were at some meaningless ball, Shoto would imagine a pocket watch in his mind, count down the seconds and wait until he would be allowed to leave.

~In retrospect, one could say Shoto was happy to be in the small boutique. 

~It was a perfect excuse to be away from home for an hour longer than "intended". And since he wouldn't be allowed to move out of the household until he got married, these kinds of excuses were the types he was seeking for more often than not. And he gladly took every one of them.

~The familiar soft ring of the bell a top of the door signaled his arrival and shortly footsteps jogged out of the back room. It was the male tailor, William. Shoto looked around the boutique and didn't see the other tailor.

~"Ah, Good morning Sir! If my memory's not mistaken, you came in for a first fitting, am I right?" William said with the same enthusiasm as Shoto witnessed last time. This time however William's eyes looked a bit tired, which made Shoto wonder if the man had not slept enough.

~Why would he be concerned? He too has nights when he had to be working every once in a while. It was normal, nothing too serious.

~"Yes. You don't need to rush anything, I can wait until you're done with your current work." Shoto informed while taking off his hat.

~"Oh, I am sorry if you forgot, but I'm not the one responsible for your suit. I'll see if my sister is available. Please have a seat." William responded and disappeared into the back room again. Shoto paused for a moment but then shrugged off his coat and gave it to his butler to hold. 

~That's right, how could he forget.

~The white and red-haired male made himself comfortable on the couch as he silently thought. He felt like he was lucky to have you as his tailor. You sounded so inspired, motivated, and excited as you designed his suit. People with a passion for what they did, more often performed better than those who didn't.

~And it showed on the finished product. He wanted to know more about how you worked. How passionate one could be about something. It interested him for some reason.

~A few minutes passed by and there was no sign of either of the siblings, not even a sound could be heard. He wasn't getting impatient, but rather curious about what was keeping (Name).

~He didn't need to think about it much longer when he heard rapid heel clicks coming from the back room. Soon (Name) stood in the door frame with a pile of clothing in her hands, she bowed in courtesy.

~"I apologize for the wait. I was in the middle of sewing and you apparently told William that you could wait. Oh, and how are you?" You walked over to him. Now that you stood closer, Shoto could see the similar dark circles under your eyes too. For some reason, the sight made him sad this time around.

~"No need to apologize, I am in no hurry. And I am feeling good."

~"Alright then, let's start." You placed the pile of clothing on a small round table next to the mirror and handed him the fully finished white dress shirt and pants. Shoto took them and walked behind the folding screen to change.

~ a Few minutes later, he walked out and looked himself over in front of the mirror.

~"How does it feel? Any itchy spots? Is the fitting to your liking?" You questioned. Lightly tugging his shirt to the correct places and brushing off any hair or invisible dust on his shoulders out of instinct. You didn't realize it but Shoto noticed what you were doing, but he stayed silent.

~"They suit me perfectly, and I don't feel itchy at all." He commented as he looked at himself in the mirror. He really wasn't one to admire himself when he was in front of a mirror, but this time he couldn't help but look at himself as maybe for the first time in his life he felt comfortable while also looking good.

~"So nothing needs to be changed?"

~"No." He confirmed.

~"Excellent. Now let's try the vest." You said as you walked the few steps over to the round table. "I will have to apologize, for the vest is not completely finished." You held the piece of clothing behind Shoto, gesturing that you would like for him to put it on. Shoto carefully bent his arms back and stuck his arms through the holes as you helped him to pull it on.

~The unfinished garment had strings hanging from everywhere, unsewn seams, and buttonless holes. Even so, it looked exactly like he imagined it would. The shade of grey and the patterns were very much to his liking and he could already imagine how much better it would look once the buttons were sewed on and the whole piece was tidied up.

~"I like it very much." He commented as he shifted so he could see it from different angles.

~"I'm glad it is to your liking." You nodded as you scribbled extra notes on your notepad.

~"May I ask what you are writing?" Shoto inquired curiously.

~"I'm writing some notes. Now that I see you dressed in the clothing, I now have a better picture in mind what details I can add to your jacket since it will be the most eye-catching garment out of all the others."

~Shoto stood there before the mirror, where it would have looked like he was looking at himself but in actuality, he was looking at the woman behind him in the mirror. He couldn't explain how he was still mesmerized by how much work and effort you were putting into his suit.

~In this day and age, most tailors wouldn't give way too much thought to what they were sewing. It was all about how many pieces of clothing they could sell with the least amount of time and expense because they had families to feed and couldn't afford to waste time.

~But here you were. Putting so much effort into a suit that many men like himself would only use a few, if not only once, and then have another one made.

~Shoto can't count all the times a suit was tailored for him because after he wore it once, he would throw it away, for it was too uncomfortable or it tore easily. He had a few suits that he liked, but they weren't too formal. More so for running errands and such.

~"I'm quite impressed with your commitment to your work." Shoto turned to you as you were still scribbling on the paper. You stopped as you heard him speak.

~"Pardon?" You were caught off guard by his question.

~"Don't get me wrong, I wasn't implying that I thought you would do a bad job. I'm implying that I'm surprised at how much thought you seem to put into the clothes you make." He clarified. You stood there for a moment thinking about how to respond.

~"You could say I am passionate about the suits and dresses that I make." You temporarily pocketed your notes and pencil into your dress’s pocket while gesturing for him to take off the vest. Shoto complied and gave it to you.

~"Growing up, my family didn't have enough money to buy new clothes. So I always admired all the people with gorgeous dresses and fancy suits along with decorated headpieces and hats. Only to dream to someday own such pieces of clothing myself." You recalled as you sat down on the couch and started scribbling into your notebook again.

~"My mother was always busy working around the house, so usually I along with William were the ones who patched up our family's clothes with a rusted needle. Over time I and William got quite good at sewing and made it into a small business amongst the neighbors who didn't know how to sew." You continued. 

~"As years passed and we got better at sewing, our parent's health only weakened. Before they passed, our mother told us to do what we were passionate about and to do our absolute best at it." You finished with your notes and stood up to motion to the boutique.

~"That's exactly what we did. We sold everything we owned, took a small loan, and bought this boutique and all the equipment, fabric, and necessities to open a tailoring business with all the money we had. We made a name for ourselves with the quality formal wear we sold and here we are." You finished the story with a smile, remembering all the hard times you and your brother had to endure to be where you are right now. Looking back, you didn't regret anything.

~While you sat on the couch talking away, Shoto stayed put and listened to your every word. After hearing how much you worked and endured in your life to be where you are now, he felt so intrigued by you. a Woman who became something from nothing along with her brother, while his job and fortune were practically guaranteed from the moment he was born.

~You and your brother deserve respect for working so much and sacrificing sleep for your craft, but some people don't always give any because they are wealthier. In Shoto's mind, it's pathetic. To act ungrateful and more important only because they are wealthier than the person they are buying from. 

~'How unfair.' Shoto thought. And there's nothing he could really do about it.

~"That's a very inspiring story." Shoto commented with a hint of emotion he rarely shows as he stepped behind the folding screen to change out of the clothes back to his own.

~"You think so?" You called from the other side as you folded the vest and hung it over your arm and waited for him to finish. 

~"Yes, it's very inspiring in my opinion to hear such stories. It proves that people can be worth much more than some perceive." He said and you didn't know what to say. From the moment you first saw this split-hair-colored male, you knew he would be an unusual customer. But surely you weren't expecting him to think so highly of people "lower" than him. 

~He talked with you without the usual snappish, rich people attitude, which by itself already hinted to you that he didn't care about the difference between the social classes. He didn't even seem to mind when you talked minutes upon minutes about his ordered clothes or your passion for sewing.

~'He indeed is an unusual customer.' You thought.

~"Should we arrange another time for another fitting?" Shoto inquired as he handed the clothes back to you in a neatly folded pile. You nodded to him as you took the clothes.

~"Let's do to that, I'm confident that by then I will have at least a jacket ready for you to try on, However, I can't promise if it will have any details..." You trailed off as you dug around under the front desk for an appointment book. You let out a small 'aha!' when your fingers hit the said book.

~You dug it out and opened it at the page you or William wrote last. "Hmmm, I'm free next Thursday at 8 AM." You proposed. He nodded.

~"That will work." You nodded and started writing away with the ink pen. a few seconds went by when he suddenly spoke.

~"I apologize, but could you do a small request of mine?" You looked up at him when you finished writing.

~"What were you thinking?" You inquired, closing the book in front of you.

~"Do you decorate other pieces of clothing such as top hats?" You quirked your eyebrow at the request.

~"I've done it a few times, but usually that's the hat makers job." You spoke honestly.

~"I was only thinking of something small to make it match the suit, and I already have a hat you could decorate." You thought about it.

~"Sure, you'll just have to pay a bit extra for the finished suit because I decorated the hat too." You reminded him.

~"Of course, thank you." He smiled slightly, satisfied that he managed to convince you. You blushed at the sight and you cleared your throat quietly to distract yourself.

~"Pleasure doing business with you." You said with a smile. He nodded and bid you goodbye. 

~Once Shoto stepped out of the boutique followed by his butler, whose existence you completely forgot about, you let out a loud sigh as you slumped onto the front desk. Thinking about the nice things Shoto said to you and his gentle smile.

~'What is wrong with me?' You pinched the bridge of your nose blushing as you couldn't stop your mind replaying the past half an hour in your head. You stayed there for a moment when William emerged from the back room, holding a cup of tea in his hand while the other rested in his front pocket. He must be taking a break.

~"How is it going?" He sipped at his tea.

~"Well... I have a lot of work on my hands, that's for sure."

~~~~~~~~~~

[phantombandit-films]

Why ‘War of the Worlds’ (2005) is a underrated masterpiece.

‘War of the Worlds’ was released in 2005, it is directed by the film god that is Steven Spielberg (Jaws, E.T.) and written by Josh Friedman (Terminator: Dark Fate, Avatar 2) and David Koepp (Jurassic Park, Mission: Impossible) 

Cast:  - Tom Cruise as Ray Farrier. - Justin Chatwin as Robbie Farrier. - Dakota Fanning as Rachel Farrier. - Miranda Otto as Mary Ann. -Tim Robbins as Harlan Ogilvy. - Ann Robinson as Grandmother.  - Gene Barry as Grandfather. 

First lets start with some history of ‘The War of the Worlds’ - The 2005 film is based off the novel of the same name which was written by H.G. Wells between 1895 and 1897, it then was then made into a series by Pearson’s Magazine in 1897 in the UK, Cosmopolitan in the US. Then becoming a hardback novel in 1898, it is one of the earliest written pieces to tell a story of conflict between Martians and man and so its one of the most commented on pieces of science fiction. 

It has been adapted and developed several times over many decades in many medias, the ones that come to mind are the famous 1938 dramatic radio reading that was directed and starred Orson Welles that actually caused public panic to those who listened in and didn’t know that the Martian invasion was fiction, its said that up to a million people ran out of their homes in terror.  (Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_War_of_the_Worlds_(1938_radio_drama) )

The 1953 ‘The War of the Worlds’ film adaptation, which was produced by George Pal and directed by Byron Haskin. It also starred Gene Barry (who played Dr. Clayton Forrester) and Ann Robinson (who played Sylvia Van Buren) who can also been seen at the end of the 2005 film, they play the grandparents of Robbie and Rachel which I think is a sweet little cameo to see for those who loved the 1953 film.  Ann Robinson also revived her role as Sylvia Van Buren in two other films and three episodes of ‘The War of the Worlds’ tv series in 1988. 

In 1978 the most well known musical album by Jeff Wayne was produced and based off the story of ‘War of the Worlds’ this album included the voices of Richard Burton and David Essex.

This was then turned into a concert musical which tours annually through out the UK and Europe, the concert includes live performers such as Carrie Hope Fletcher but also a 3D hologram of Liam Neeson. It also includes a mix of computer animation, pyrotechnics and a big mechanical tripod that comes out on stage and lights up and can fire its heat-ray. 

(Source: Birmingham Mail.)

There have also been several Tv series, the two newest being the 2019 BBC version staring Poldark’s Eleanor Tomlinson and Full Monty’s Robert Carlyle, that has a Edwardian setting and follows closely to the novel. 

The other being the FOX 2019 adaptation that is set in present day Europe but I found this version didn’t really go off the novel, and was frustrated with the lack of the famous Tripods.  (Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_War_of_the_Worlds) 

As a kid I would watch the 1953 film with my mum all the time as its one of her favourites and I do really like it, but then 2005 rolled around and in comes Steven Spielberg’s version. To be fair it was probably 2006 when I finally saw it, I was nine years old at the time and I remember my dad bringing home the DVD that someone at work had lent him. I don’t remember watching it but I do remember having nightmares for a month after, only for a month though.  Many years later when I was half way through high school and getting more and more into film my dad then bought the DVD from Woolworth's before it shut down, the DVD didn’t have a case only a see through CD case so I think it only cost him something like 50p. So I re-watched and again I don’t really remember this but all of a sudden I was hooked, and it climbed to the second spot on my favourite movies list where it still sits today. Honestly if you asked anyone I was friends with at that time they will tell you just how obsessed I was with it.  

I have many scenes that I love in this film the first being the rise of the first tripod, but there are two that I geek out over every time. 

The first scene being the one in the basement at Robbie and Rachel’s house, the scene starts off with Ray asleep in a chair. He starts to stir when when a blue flash of light on his face, but then jolts up right at a load whooshing noise followed by closely by Robbie shooting up from just below the camera. I love the way that Robbie appears sort of fits with the sound that’s heard, also the whole mood of the scene which is pitch black with this blue flashing light every now and then. The fact that you’re just as clueless as the characters as well, you find out what’s happening when they find out.  Also the way that Rachel appears behind the basement stairs, which will appear again near the end of the movie in a much more damaged basement which shows just how much their world has changed in just a short few days.  The sound design in this movie as well is something that I love, I love when the sound in a film alone can creep you out. The tripod sound is one of my favourite sounds to exist, like if I heard that from outside I would be so creeped out and scared.  At this moment in time Robbie and Rachel have no idea what is hunting them or what Ray has seen, Imagine running from something and seeing something completely destroy the whole of your neighbourhood yet not knowing what it looks like. This is what runs through my mind when I heart Rachel cry “Is it them, Is it them?!”  Then the next morning when Ray goes upstairs and see’s that the house is just completely destroyed by an aeroplane that has crashed down in the middle of the the housing estate. This Boeing 747 was a out of use plane and the production crew bought it for $60,000 which then cost them $200,000 to transport, it was then broken into pieces and houses were built around it. Which just shows how far some movie productions will go to make a film look more legit. (We love practical effects in this house.) This scene is still set up at Universal Studios Hollywood and can be seen on the Studio tour. 

(Basement and Plane crash scene.)

My second favourite scene, which is one of my all time top favourite scene ever with no surprise is the dock scene.  The speeding train that’s on fire is absolute stunning in every sense but for me the scene starts when the music starts.  ‘If I ruled the world, everyday would be the first day of spring.’ But i’m really glued to the screen when Rachel starts to follow the birds coming in from the river to in land, she follows them up to the hill where she notices the tree’s on the top are moving weirdly. “The tree’s are funny.” She then reaches out and grabs onto Rays hand who was talking to a friend.  Robbie turns to the hill as the camera slowly comes back and shows Robbie also turning to look at where Ray is looking. (Just remembering that this is the first time Robbie and Rachel ever see the tripods.) 

The camera then shows us what the family is looking at to reveal a tripod stood on the top of the hill, it then moves one of its legs which crushes a tree and makes everyone else look back. Obviously chaos ensues from this point on, everyone running trying to get onto the ferry to get away from the impending doom, unfortunately we learn that no where, not even on the water is safe. As a tripod comes up from out of the water and attacks the ferry, the family manage to escape and get to land on the other side of the ferry. They stop for a moment to catch their breath as people are being picked out of the water below them, they turn as a old air raid alarm is heard on the other side of the hill and we see tripods coming over another hill that was filled with people and using their head rays to wipe them all out, we also see in the distance a lighting storm indicating more Martions are still coming to earth. The scene is like a depiction of all the stages of the attack.  (Dock attack scene.)

I mean all the action scenes in this movie are just so beautiful and amazing, but did we expect any less from Spielberg? And the CGI and practical are all done extremely well and fitted together to make a scene look as real as possible. One of the art directors that worked on this film, Doug J. Meerdink who has also worked on Jurassic Park: III, Cloverfield and Jurassic World. 

I was looking up some trivia on IMDB for this movie and found that there was a deleted scene that is called the ‘Camelot’ scene. This scene is supposed to take place between the attack on the ferry and the battle on the hill, it involves Ray, Rachel and Robbie walking through an abandoned housing estate that’s named Camelot, when a pack of tripods start walking near by.  One of the tripods breaks off and the family has to take cover behind a SUV, they watch helplessly from behind as the tripod reaches into the house and grabs people from the houses. This scene has never been released but apparently it was fully finished, VFX and all but then taken out a few weeks before post production was wrapped up.  There is only one official video from this scene that was in the actual trailer for the film, and it’s only a shot of the family hiding behind the SUV. 

The only other shot from the scene is this landscape shot of a CGI tripod. 

There are also photos of the set designers setting up the miniature of the housing estate to shoot this scene, the rest are fan arts of how the scene maybe looked/ played out.  (Source)

I really hope that one day Steven releases this scene, or for some anniversary adds it into an extended version of the film like we’ve seen for other films. Because I would love that so much! It seems like such an incredible scene, and to see the tripods up this close again would be so cool! 

One of the trailers that was released for this film doesn’t have any of the film shots it in, It takes place in a normal neighbourhood where people are just going about their normal nightly routine when suddenly over the hill there are all these brilliant flashing lights, everyone's just coming out of their houses in their pj’s and standing in the street marvelling at this sight in front of them. Then we see explosions and suddenly heat rays are blowing up the tress on the street which then goes into the title.  I just love this, a trailer that doesn’t give anything away from the movie but creeps you out enough to be invested.  (Trailer.)

All in all it’s just an very visually pleasing film, it feels real enough to give you a sense of fear for the characters and for yourself. I also love that Steven stayed true to the source material,more truer than some of the other adaptations and also added in his own little Easter eggs.  The sounds, the aesthetic, the colours just everything comes together so beautifully. I think its a very underrated movie that deserves so much more love.

[mishapeesha]

hello friends! i have decided to start writing a fanfiction (although I am......not that experienced with writing, but I will trY)

anyways! the pairing is obviously deancas, and since I’ve just written the first chapter, the tags will be limited until I further develop the story. The rating will change if needed, trigger warnings will be added if necessary, and so on!

the summary: 

A package is mailed to Castiel Novak, a 27 year old with unknowingly very limited knowledge on a certain aspect of his life. It’s filled with what seems like hundreds of letters all to him, a single person. Memories and confessions of love are penned within those letters. As time goes on, he feels drawn to the person on the other end and sets out to find them – and the letter’s inevitable true destination that ties the final loose end in Castiel's life.

ao3 link!: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28625316/chapters/70161738

i would really appreciate any feedback, or just boosting this would be pretty cool too! 

for anyone that doesn’t wanna read on ao3, chapter 1 starts below!

September 18th, 1992

           Castiel’s chest bounced as he jogged down the stairs aligned in a wide spiral, his eyebrow quirked up in confusion as his doorbell buzzed repeatedly with barely a second in between every ring. He winced at the harsh sound of it, noticing how military-like it was in the way that the alarm went off. It was always a task of his to get it changed, but he never got the chance to. Either because he didn’t feel like it, or because his memory disallowed him to remember something as unimportant as a doorbell.  

           “Coming!” He called out to whoever bothered to show up at his house so early in the morning. Castiel paused beside the bookcase placed beside his door, glancing at the mirror in order to adjust the loose strands of hair that spiked in different directions with the frantic brush of his fingers. He let out a sigh as his gaze shifted towards the reflection of the wall clock behind him, seeing that it was barely 7:05 am. Just as he turned to face the door, that annoying noise rang in his ears once more. Maybe one day he’d go through with that mental task of changing the buzz to something more audibly pleasant.

           His fingers wrapped around the metal doorknob, and a click emerged as he swung the door open, being immediately met with a man who he had never seen in his life. His eyes quickly scanned over the man, noticing that he was in uniform, so he classified him as harmless. What damage could a mailman do? Hand him a letter and give him a papercut? Though there was a look on the mailman’s face that Castiel couldn’t quite place. He was torn between thinking it was some sort of discomfort towards Cas personally, or just general exhaustion because it could just be that he was tired. There wasn’t really anything enjoyable about driving to several homes, handing gifts to so many people while barely surviving off of minimum wage and receiving nothing in return.

           “Castiel Novak?” The man asked, shifting in his spot momentarily as he held a medium sized box underneath one arm, and a clipboard in the other hand. Castiel took note that his name was Thomas after noticing the nametag attached to the pocket on the fabric of his blouse.

           “Yes, that’s me.” Castiel replied, opening the door slightly more after feeling more comfortable to do so. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked past Thomas, wondering if anyone was following him, or if they were being watched. They seemed to be alone, so Cas stopped tapping his fingers against the wooden door, although he hadn’t realized that he began to do that in the first place. “Is there anything that you need of me?”

           “Well,” Thomas began with a nod. He cleared his throat and placed the clipboard in between his legs to use both of his hands, and then offered Cas the box he held. “We’ve had this in the office for a while now, but it was specified to be delivered on this day to this address, and to you.” He explained, biting his lower lip in what Cas took as some sort of minimal panic, or uneasiness. “The sender wishes to remain anonymous, however.” He added, as if it were nothing unusual.

           “Anonymous?” Castiel questioned and drew a frown onto his face. He shook his head and reverted back to closing the door, but he kept a smaller gap so that the two of them could still communicate. “I will not be accepting a box from someone who doesn’t wish that their identity is revealed. It could be anything, and I am not willing to risk my safety.” He deadpanned before he glanced down at the box, not trusting whatever was in it. Why would anyone refuse to mention their name unless they were someone dangerous and not to be messed with?

           Thomas stared at Cas for a few moments as he was now met with the confusion of what to do with the box now that the apparent receiver was blatantly rejecting it. He swallowed hard as an uncomfortable smile curled the corners of his mouth.

“Mr. Novak, I can assure you nothing that will hurt you is in this box. Not only is it very light, but it would also be a shame if this was thrown out. As I mentioned, this has been collecting dust in our office. It has been for the last four years.”

           Castiel froze at Thomas’ words, struck with surprise. He had absolutely no idea who sent the box, what was in the box, or why it was sent in the first place. Cas was Cas. The person he spoke to the most was his brother, and even then, he barely saw Gabriel to begin with. They spoke less and less as the years passed, and so Castiel was alone for the majority of the time. So, he couldn’t quite process how he had a package delivered to him, when he knew his brother barely had the energy to stop by his house for a quick hello. He was a generally distant individual. An outsider to himself, his family, and others.

This did not add up.

           “Four years you say?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked between Thomas and the box, earning a nod in reply. He sighed in defeat and once again, opened the door. “You really can’t tell me who sent it? Surely you must know.” Cas said, raising his eyebrow as he finally decided to take the box from Thomas’ hold. “It isn’t heavy.” He pointed out in confirmation to what Thomas previously stated, now more so curious to know what he was sent rather than worried.

           “I’m not at liberty to say. I’m sorry.” Thomas responded and rubbed the back of his neck before he remembered to pull the clipboard from between his legs. “Could you sign this, please?”

           Castiel took the pen and scribbled a random signature on the piece of paper, nodding at Thomas who offered a small smile at Cas. “Thank you.” He murmured quietly, clutching the box to his chest.

“Of course. Have a good day.”

           “And you as well.”

           A creak erupted from the door as Castiel let it close on itself, and eventually the atmosphere fell back into silence. But suddenly, he became almost hyper-aware of his surroundings. He couldn’t tell whether it was his actual heartbeat that he could hear, or if he was overhearing some rhythmic beat from his neighbor’s home nearby. And he definitely grew irritated at the loud ticking sound of the clock on the wall that seemed to follow him as he dragged himself through the hallway to the living room.

           The walls seemed to follow his every movement, making Cas feel judged and uneasy. And just for a moment, a sense of guilt rose in him. There was no source for it, yet there was some inexplainable physical tug to what Cas held in his hands, allowing negative emotions to faintly flood into him. He was convinced that his thoughts echoed off those same walls, as any word spoken in his mind just sounded too intense and loud in his ears.

           Cas sat down on the couch, sinking into the mattress as he leaned forward to place the box on the coffee table in front of him. His bottom lip became a victim of his anxious habits where his teeth would peel at the loose, dry skin, drawing blood that lightly pooled into his mouth and presented a metallic taste.

           “What could you be?” He spoke out loud to himself, picking at the loose thread poking out of the couch. He exhaled and used his nails to tear off the tape sealing the box shut. It looked like an average box, which made any assumptions as to what could be inside completely impossible to Cas. It’s not like he expected a bomb to be inside, but he also didn’t expect a proper gift. So, then what? What made a box so big, yet so light at the same time? What was so important that it absolutely had to be sent to Cas four years later?

           Once he managed to tear the seals off, he took in a deep breath. He didn’t know what he would be getting himself into, and yet he knew there was absolutely no way he’d be able to keep himself from looking inside. So, before he knew it or could hesitate, the box was opened, revealing the last thing Cas would have expected.

Letters.

Lots of them.

           “What the hell..?” He breathed out, flipping the box over so that the letters scattered out across the table. His eyes widened in both confusion and shock, and he immediately reached to pick one up. He examined the envelope: Clean, neat, and numbered with a bold 30 on it that was also in the colour of purple. There was no stamp. There was no name. Just a singular number, and nothing more than that.

Or it would be nothing more if he decided to keep the envelopes tightly secured.

Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it? Though at the same time, he really did have nothing to lose. A dance with death was the least of his current concerns.

By the look of things, it appeared as though there was a certain number of letters in the box, labeled from one to an unknown limit. For all that could be known, there could be fifty letters, a hundred, or a thousand. He doubted he’d read all of them, because what could possibly be so interesting that the writer thought it was imperative that Cas knew?

The bigger question was, who wrote them?

Castiel shuffled through the envelopes until he found the first numbered 1 in red. His mouth went dry, and his brain raced with questions that he had no answer to at all. He hated being blind to the truth, to be instead engulfed in a mystery, like his life was some sort of game. He wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted to know now. But given all that Cas was presented with, he knew it would be a long time before he knew what was actually going on. It could be days, weeks, months. All depending on how much Cas read, and how fast.

He fiddled with the letter in his hand, debating whether or not to open it. He had to. He could just read this one and throw the others out. And maybe he’d get the answers he needed in the first envelope, making it possible to ignore the others.

The paper ripped beneath his fingers, and soon enough, he held a paper in his hands. The first out of many.

Quickly, his eyes scanned over the words written, immediately blocking them out because he refused to jump too far in what was visibly so carefully put together. He wanted to take his time and appreciate the effort put into all of this. But he did take notice of the handwriting. It was a combination of neat and messy. Definitely readable, and a little too familiar. It was nice, simply put. But Cas could sense the desperation in the way the words were written. They were rushed, and well thought out of as well. Like whoever wrote knew what to say, just not how to say it.

Dear Castiel,

Knowing you, you’re probably freaked the hell out right now. And... Well, you should be.

Cas frowned and scoffed, rolling his eyes at the paper. Already, the letter was referring to him, and he had no idea about who was writing. Clearly, off to a great start.

Or not. Actually, don’t freak out. You don’t need that. Anyways…grab yourself that weird coffee that I know you like and get comfy.

What I’ve done here for you is write a hundred letters. Or I’m planning to, at least. Hopefully I commit to this. I guess if you’re reading this, I’ll have succeeded, so yay me, I guess. But I want you to really read them. To understand it all because there is so much that you don’t know. About me, about you, and more importantly, about us. I know you might be scared-

Castiel looked away and shook his head, setting the letter down on the table causing it to fold in on itself with how long it had been creased for. He rubbed his forehead and sighed, mumbling something incoherent underneath his breath. Not even halfway through the first letter, and Cas was already overwhelmed. Everything in him begged him to stop reading, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching back towards the piece of paper and picking it up once more. He was certain that would be a decision he would regret in the future.

-and that’s okay. Fear’s good. Sometimes, at least.

Please, hear me out, alright? I need you to keep an open mind. You gotta, man. Or else this won’t work. I don’t mean to put on a show and get all dramatic, but I need you to level with me. To feel with me, and to get angry and hurt whenever you feel like it. I need you to bust open your damn walnut, and pull me out of that chest that you’ve got stuffed in there somewhere.  

Cas, you may not know me now, but I know you.

I’m writing this on September 18th, 1988. We met five years go..I don't really know when you'll get this. Could be ten years from now. Guess we'll see.

I need you to remember.

Work that big ol’ brain of yours and try to not be the dumbass that you tend to be. It's my fault you're in your current situation, but you need to try. If not for me, then for you.

We haven't spoken in so long, Cas. And saying I miss you won't change a damn thing because you don't even know who I am, but I do miss you. And you can take that however you want for now, but you'll understand it all eventually. If you decide to actually go through with this and read all that I've written for you.

“Situation?” Castiel asked out loud, as if he’d get a response. Of course, he was met with silence. But he still had no idea what was happening. He didn’t know what any of this meant, but he did know this had the potential to ruin his entire life. In fact, it felt like everything started slowly tumbling down already.

And yes, he had nothing. But was it worth the loss?

I’ll tell you everything. No plot-holes, not shit-holes, or whatever. All I ask is that you read. It’s that simple.

That’s all for now. Sorry for the short first letter. I’ll see you soon.

-Dean W.

“Dean?” He whispered, and at that, his chest knotted tightly as he took in a shaky breath. He widened his eyes and wheezed, an uneasy feeling creeping its way up his chest. So, the writer had a name. One that Cas mentally did not recognize, but he physically did apparently.

What the hell did the "W" stand for? He didn't know. Or rather he couldn't remember, according to what the letters were saying.

He set the letter down and stared at the others, scratching at his arm as he eyed the unorganized mess that had now grounded him in his place. Out of all of the things he could have received that day, he just had to get what was probably the most confusing thing he had ever been confronted with.

The possibility of fault grew, and all Cas could do for now was allow himself to become engulfed in the non-existent voice of a series of letters that he was yet to understand, and so rightfully dreaded.

[hawksward]

Wolves in Sheep's Clothing Ch. 3: Let the Games Begin (Childe/OC)

Since being granted a vision at the tender age of 10, Irina has owed her life to the Tsaritsa and dedicated herself to rising through the ranks of the Fatui. In becoming a top-ranking diplomat she’s received her easiest assignment yet: ensure the 11th Fatui Harbinger remains ignorant of La Signora’s plan to obtain the gnosis of Rex Lapis. A simple task for someone who’s made a career out of lying.

Unfortunately, even the simplest tasks can go awry when feelings get in the way.

Rating: E (For eventual smut)

Warnings: Violence, there will eventually be smut

The next morning came too quickly. She had plans to run a few of her own errands before the boat arrived. It seemed like bad karma when she overslept and had to rush out to make it in time. Irina maneuvered through the crowds with ease, her pace quickening as she continued down the slope to the wharf.

By the time she reached the bottom the boat was nearly completely unloaded. She looked for anyone free, or even a stack of letters on a crate.

“Are you here for the letters, miss?” An older man stepped from behind her holding a large pile of envelopes wrapped in twine “Ekaterina mentioned someone different would be picking up today”

“Yes. That’s me.” She took the stack of letters and casually flipped through the recipients. There were plenty for people she was unfamiliar with, most likely those who were on assignment further away from the bank as she didn’t get out of the city much. A letter for Ekaterina, most likely from her grandmother that she spoke of often.

Then at the very bottom, there was a small stack solely for Childe. She knew he had a large family waiting for him back in Snezhnaya, courtesy of Ekaterina and her extensive knowledge of everything that had to do with his business. Including the number of zeroes attached to his bank account. She peeked at the return addresses, all of which were the same. His family must have written him one letter each.

“Did we miss one for you?” The man asked, “It looks like you didn’t find what you were looking for.”

“No, none for me. Not a big mail person. Thanks for the hard work. Safe travels back to the motherland.” Irina gave him a curt nod before making her way to the lower market by the docks.

The letters weighed heavy in her arm as she stood in line for pastries. It never mattered before that she didn’t have anyone back home. She served the Tsaritsa. if anything not having a family made her a better tool for the woman she owed everything to.

Irina left the docks with a large basket filled with almond biscuits when she was knocked out of the way by a child sprinting through the crowd. Shortly after the girl disappeared from view a millelith soldier rushed after her, pushing bystanders out of the way.

“Stop! Thief!”

It’s not your business. Take your biscuits and get to work.

She let out a loud sigh as she followed through the openings in the crowd the soldier left. When she finally reached the end of the market, the soldier had cornered the girl, who was clutching something in her hands.

“Give it here, kid” the man held out his hand to the girl, who couldn’t have been older than 10, but she continued to hold the object even tighter.

“Is there an issue here, sir?” Irina walked up next to the man, her eyes on the girl in front of her. She recognized the fear. It wasn’t of being caught, it was the fear of having whatever was in her hand ripped from her.

“Nothing we need the Fatui to deal with.” He grumbled, “When the thief gives back what she stole I’ll be on my way.”

Irina ignored the soldier as she knelt in front of the child “can you show me what’s in your hand?”

The girl released her fingers around a small pouch filled with coins, “I need it. My brother is sick and he needs food”

“Typical lying street vermin. All the same lying about some non existent sick family member.” The guard scoffed

Sure, the girl could be lying. But her clothes were ratty and her shoes looked like they were a day away from falling off her feet. Even if she didn’t have a sick brother, she desperately needed the mora.

Irina stood, pulling the pouch of coins from her pocket before shoving it at the officer “That should be more than enough to cover the small amount she took as well as compensation for the victim. We’re done here.”

“Wait just a minute- you don’t get to decide that the kid doesn’t get punished.”

“Oh but consider this. I do.” She began, a sadistic smile creeping over her features “If you push this any further I will find every skeleton in your closet and expose them for the world to see. Even if you don’t have anything too interesting, I am Fatui after all. I can be creative.”

“You can’t do that. I’m a member of the millelith. You can’t just blackmail me without consequence!”

“But who would believe you? Your only witness is a child. I’m an esteemed guest of the Qixing. Who do you think they will side with to avoid diplomatic incident?”

The air temperature dropped ten degrees around her, she could feel the itch in her hands to use her power. Her patience was wearing thin.

“Fine. I’ll pay back the victim with your blood money.” The officer spit on the ground in front of her feet before turning and walking away.

Irina turned back around to the girl, grabbing a handful of almond biscuits and placing them in her hands. “Get back to your brother. Next time you need mora come to the Northland Bank. We have plenty of letters that need to be delivered around the harbor.”

“Thank you miss.” The girl looked up at her before immediately averting her eyes again “I will.”

——

The moment Irina stepped into the bank she didn’t have time to breathe. Ekaterina was on her before she could say a word about the giant pile of biscuits in her basket.

“There you are! Master Childe has been looking for you.”

Irina placed the basket on the counter before the woman “He’s looking for me? He’s the one who told me not to come in until after I’ve gotten the mail from the boat.”

Her mind was already cycling through every possible scenario. The millelith guard had already somehow managed to report to the Qixing and now Childe had heard. He found out about the contract between Signora and Zhongli. He was pissed about her showing up 30 minutes late with biscuits.

“Well the basket is filled with almond biscuits for everyone. Also here’s this weeks mail. I’ll take Master Childe his since he’s apparently dying to see me.”

Most likely she would be the one dying after this exchange. She quietly ascended the stairs, wondering how the rest of the staff would react if their boss murdered her in his office. Childe’s office was at the very end of the curved hall. She took a deep breath before knocking loudly on the elaborate door.

“It’s open.”

Irina carefully pushed the door open, stepping into the room. Childe’s office was easily five times the size of her own, with plenty of space for meetings with large bank clients. A lot of space to make them disappear as well.

“Ekaterina mentioned that you were looking for me. I brought some almond biscuits for the staff on my way back from the boat.”

Childe looked up from his desk, a large grin spread across his face. Irina’s heart sunk further into her stomach.

“You took your time. Are those for me?” He stood from his desk and closed the distance between them with his long strides. He plucked the small pile of envelopes from her hand before flipping through them, “I can always tell by the seal they use on the back”

“Are we getting to the part where you tell me why you were looking for me?”

“So pushy.” He gently tossed the letters on the desk before turning around to face her again “I need a sparring partner and all of the other vision users are on assignment out of the city. So, I’ve cleared your calendar for the day.”

“You did what?” Irina was horrified “I had a lunch set with the Qixing, they’re not going to take a last minute cancellation lightly! I’m not even combat oriented!”

Childe let out a sigh, crossing the room again to stand in front of her “As a vision holder I know you’ve received basic Fatui combat training.” He tapped the cryo vision centered at her clavicle “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

Her body moved before she could even think, her right hand grabbing his in a vice grip. She could feel the ice tingling in her fingertips as she moved his hand away from her chest before letting go. His hand red at the sudden cold.

“I have work to do here. In Liyue Harbor. I can’t just drop all of my responsibilities at your whim.” Her hands returned to her sides as she balled them into fists. She was sure she’d pissed him off at this point.

“You can because I say so. I’m Tartaglia. This is my jurisdiction. And what I say goes.” He took a step back, looking down at her, “You also now owe me for giving me mild frostbite.”

——

The view from the mountain overseeing the city would have been beautiful if she wasn’t dreading the reason she was there. Childe dragged her up a mountain, insisting that it was the best place for a sparring match. Less collateral damage that way.

While she could appreciate Childe not destroying the city on a whim, she wished he wouldn’t have decided to destroy her as well. He was a harbinger. One of the Tsaritsa’s elite warriors. She was a diplomat and a military dropout.

Everything Signora said about him flooded back as once. He was an eye of the storm. He would rather solve problems with a sword than with words. Zero tact. A brute.

“This will work.” He took a look at the surroundings before bringing his attention to Irina “What do you say, Aster? Ready to fight me?” He pulled his bow off his back, knocking an arrow made of water.

She let out a long sigh. The short answer was no. She pulled her catalyst from her bag and allowed it to float beside her. She tossed the bag to the side, bringing her palm across her face to form a mask made of ice. Maybe if she felt like she was back in a combat role she’d fare a little better.

Doubtful.

“Let’s get this over with.”

The moment the last word left her mouth he released his arrow straight at her chest. Irina summoned a large wall of ice, causing the arrow to shatter on impact. She watched as Childe shot off more arrows only to continue to shatter on the ice.

Eventually, he grew bored of arrows and tossed his bow to the side. He manifested two short swords out of water, holding both in a reverse grip. The smile on his face grew bigger as he closed the distance between them. Slowly at first, then with a quick lunge that shattered her ice shield on impact.

Irina stumbled back before regaining her footing. She threw another shield to block the next incoming blow. Once again it shattered. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up.

With a flick of her hand, the shards from the shield flew at him. He parried every shard with ease, the smile never once leaving his face.

“Yes! Just like that!” He spun a sword in his hand “and she says she can’t fight!”  his normally bright laugh put her on edge.

She suppressed a chill that wasn’t from her vision. Irina took in a deep breath before using all her air to blow a stream of cold. The water in the air before her quickly turned to ice, dropping in pellets as it continued toward her opponent.

Childe watched in amusement as his feet froze to the ground, the ice crawling up his legs to hold him in place. It was certainly impressive, but he could see its weakness with ease.

The force of his forward momentum broke the ice holding him to the ground. It happened so quickly. Irina quickly turned to see him coming with his sword at her neck. She quickly summoned ice to her hands and up her arms, hardening it as quickly as she could.

Her arm came up to block the blow from her neck. The ice covering her arm cracking beneath the pressure, but still managing to hold. Her eyes were wide. A half-second slower and he could have killed her.

She didn’t have time to process what that meant before a blow came from the other side, followed by another and another. Irina had both her arms up, desperately trying to block each blow, being forced back with each consecutive hit.

Was this the difference in strength between a normal vision user and a harbinger? He wasn’t even using his delusion. He probably wasn’t even using his full strength with his normal vision.

She felt the ice on her left arm shatter with the last blow. The force pushed her back again, but this time there was no ground underneath her foot. She was too busy trying to dodge sword strikes to notice that she’d been pushed back to the edge of the cliff.

She felt her center of gravity shift backward, followed by down. A terrible way to die really. During a sparring match because she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings.

Her momentum stopped abruptly, her arm nearly jolting out of its socket before she was pulled back from her imminent demise. Straight in the arms of something far more dangerous.

Her face smacked straight into Childe’s chest, his hand still gripped around her arm. Her heart was beating a thousand times a minute.

“You…” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath “You nearly killed me!”

“ I nearly killed you?” He laughed “You managed that all on your own.” He let go of her arm.

Irina pushed herself off him, careful to make sure that she was no longer near an edge. “I might be a diplomat but I can sense intent to kill. You took a sword to my neck. It’s lucky I managed to block in time.”

“A sword made of water. You think so little of me.” He made a show of summoning a sword into his hand, only for it to disappear into a puddle on the ground.

Irina threw her hands up in frustration and sat herself down by the cliff she nearly fell off moments prior. She refused to believe that even he had the control to disappear his sword when everything was moving so quickly.

Childe sat down beside her on the cliff, both of them staring off into the distance “Would it make you feel better if I apologized?”

“No.”

“You’re a better fighter than you give yourself credit for. There must be something you’re very good at if they let you leave combat forces”

“My specialty has always been in information” Irina began “Tugging at threads until I can find one that causes everything to unravel.”

“Is information really necessary with the amount of mora the harbingers throw around?” Childe asked

“Everyone has a price. Not all of it can be paid in mora.” She turned to look at him “Lets take you for example. There’s no sense in trying to bribe you since you already have more money than you know what to do with.”

“Alright. Let’s hear it. Work your diplomat magic.”

“The letters from this morning. I’ll start with an assumption as the simplest answer is usually the right one. Since I doubt each letter is from a different mistress back home, I’ll assume each is from a different family member.”

The two locked eyes as she spoke, Childe listening intently

“Here’s where it gets interesting. All the envelopes are the same, so clearly it’s family still living together and each one is addressed to ‘Childe’. Makes sense considering they would know better not to use your real name on any correspondence. While each envelope was marked to you in a different handwriting, there were two that had the same. One of your family members doesn’t know about your code name. They don’t know you’re a harbinger”

Irina studied his face closely as she made the accusation. Throughout her speech, his face might as well have been carved from stone. However, when she mentioned that he had a family member who didn’t know about his job, the right side of his mouth twitched slightly. Easy to miss, but a confirmation.

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t until I made the accusation. You were stone faced the entire time I was talking until I mentioned it. People are easy to read once you know what you’re looking for.”

He seemed to mull it over before standing back up “In that case let me make some observations about you. Starting with how despite claiming that you have no heart, you gave all the mora in your pocket to make sure a kid eats”

Irina let out a sigh before standing as well “That didn’t stay quiet for long. Who told you?”

“There’s a great saying in Liyue. The walls have ears.”

[atinybitofau]

S E O N G H W A ⭇ art thief au

WHO COULD PUT A PRICE ON FINE ART?

a/n: had a little fun with this one hehet

• “A little more to the left.. a little more... there! That’s perfect.”

• now I know this sounds boring.

• —you being one of the most elite art exhibit planners in the country.

• except you find it more worth while than anyone else normally would.

• art being more important to you than a menial article of praise.

• art was a gift—

• a skill no less.

• that shouldn’t be auctioned for money hungry fools.

• but for people with a taste.

• though you don’t give yourself enough credit.

• not like anyone gives it to you in any how.

• “Y/n, Mr. Jung won’t be making it tonight. The finalized list of visitors will be printed and in your hands before doors open.”

• you smile your assistant away, fumbling with white tulips in a priceless vase.

• “One less of a burden anyway. We can open doors at 7.”

• things at the exhibit were perfect.

• after all, it was you who planned it.

• artists from far and wide just thieving for your expertise.

• the expertise of setting their art up.

• time was almost near,

• you, yourself presenting like an art piece from the pop up.

• but lights blind you as you check yourself in the mirror.

• halls eerily quiet.

• till you hear a hushed glass shatter over your breath.

• you run on your 5 inch heels thinking,

• how could you have been so unprepared?

• you, a widely known exhibit planner,

• to be robbed minutes before the exhibit even begins.

• you gasp,

• when the lights flicker on.

• a man like Spider-Man hanging lopsided from a rope, only lips shown to you.

• vice and like an art form itself.

• the way it mocked you and your excellence.

• “You’ve done an outstanding job, Ms. y/n. With your over the top art events— I couldn’t help but drop by and steal a glance of my own.”

• your jaw tightens and you’re eye locked with the masked robber.

• “A man like you shouldn’t feel honored.”

• “That may be so. But I’m definitely honored by the art pieces you have put out here today. One in particular I seem to be granted on.”

• he’s talking about you.

• though hiding behind a mask,

• feeling tempted to reveal himself in your presence.

• “My staff... what have you done with them?”

• “Oh? The poorly rooted crew you call your staff? Those little pesks would believe any voice out of your given ear pieces. Even if it were my own.”

• “Of all exhibits, why mine?” you ask the thief, eyes still unruly drawn to his.

• more tempted to pull the mask right off his face.

• if not for the visible gun and knife at his collar.

• “Now, Miss. That’s no way to credit yourself. You’re the most enviable art host in all of South Korea. Not at all tasteless. And maybe a little bit uptight but that’s no ridicule. I would steal your art auctions faster than you could say you’ll spite me for it.”

• “Is it too late?”

• “Depends. Turn around and we’ll see.”

• you reach to slap him when he graces on his rope like a stripper.

• lips smirking at you through his ski mask.

• and you visibly shudder, gulping.

• eyes watering when every single painting, sculpture, and art form disappeared while you had been conversing with the thief himself.

• “Y-you’re gonna pay for this.”

• “Will I?”

• the lights flicker again and you’re left in an empty space.

• no beauty.

• no art.

• no skills left to present.

• you were helpless because of a damn thief.

• and after paying your dues,

• a kind sue despite it being your fault,

• now jobless at the will of the devil,

• close to committing suicide for losing your whole life.

• just from one hell of a heist.

• “Y/n, there’s a check for you in the mail.”

• you look up concerned, letter now in your hands.

• it’s a check for half of a million.

• you noticing the only hint at the corner of the letter.

• an address?

• and a note hidden inside as well.

• ‘though you don’t give yourself enough credit, miss, you did take part in the most successful heist in South Korea’s crime syndicate. here’s your share. if it doesn’t tickle your fancy, why don’t you give my little art exhibit a visit? Maybe we could negotiate a price more reasonable for you.’

• your fingers play with the check.

• all of your debts solved if you do accept it.

• classless money.

• though...

• you had to admit that you were tempted to give yourself the credit.

• after all?

• wasn’t it you who set up the most successful art heist in the world?

• “Woah, girly. You’re at the wrong art exhibit.”

• shakily, you try to make out the lips on this handsome man.

• not the man you’re looking for, you think.

• not the art form you couldn’t stop thinking about for the past months on end.

• not the one who robbed your life away in a light’s flash.

• “Who sent me this?” you ask another man whose lips also had no resemblance to the lips you look for. “I need to beat the shit out of them.”

• one on the stair railing, eyes of glass shards smirks at you poking interest.

• “Brave for someone who rudely walked into a fox’s home.” the blond sings quoting the thief of animals. “As a past art collector, don’t you think you could give the home’s residents a little more class? Like complimenting the art on the wall. The least you could do, Ms. y/n.”

• he’s not him.

• speaks like him.

• acts like him.

• but he’s not.

• “I know you’re trying to deceive me. But I’m here to thank your little boss. Someone a little less tasteless.”

• he’s impressed.

• thinks you’re as graceful as they come.

• no doubt the woman his boss has been pining for.

• an art that he’d insist on stealing if it didn’t come to him fatefully.

• “What makes you think I’m not him?”

• “I’m an art collector, didn’t you say?” you taunt the petty thief, other’s joining in on the show. “I have a knack of weeding out the grotesque virtues.”

• “It’s a wonder why you haven’t joined us yet.” the blonde jumps off nodding towards the highest level of the building. “Doing quite well stealing the hearts of men, why not the art on people’s walls that they don’t deserve?”

• he makes one hell of a statement though.

• for someone who knew very little of you.

• that you’d have a knack of doing what they do.

• “Go on then. The art piece you’re looking for’s up there.”

• you shove the cash check into his chest before storming up,

• for the moment,

• for the first time in your life ignoring the paintings on the walls.

• sighted on a more particular object of beauty.

• “Ms. y/n.”

• you stare at the curves of his back.

• as he stands in front of clear glass panes that face a city.

• like a truly priceless art form.

• “Finally giving yourself the credit you deserve?”

• you take a deep breath before saying, “Depends. Turn around and we’ll see.”

• so he does.

• and you think you need to give yourself more credit too.

• for finding the most beautiful art piece in the world more definitely being a vice you shouldn’t be shameful for. but proud of.

• “Yeah.” your lips twitch. “I should give myself more credit.”

• his eyes spoke more than it should.

• like something out of a museum.

• history of unspeakable truths.

• you wanted to keep it for yourself.

• an art you didn’t want to sell even if your life depended on it.

• “Ms. y/n. I hope you didn’t show up here to return what you insisted I’d pay for?”

• you let him enjoy mocking you.

• heels locked in place when he’s towering you the way he did on a rope not even a year ago.

• his head cocks in interest. “What’s this? You don’t seem unhappy. More enticed to see me actually. Now of all exhibits, why mine?”

• you’re in a time lapse.

• of hand crafted beauty at your disposal.

• but no one’s asking you to auction anything but yourself and your life.

• fully committed to using your skills for his bidding.

• “What you did to me deserves more than just a payment from selling you out the largest art heist in the world. I deserve more credit than that.”

• he’s bought.

• the way you look.

• the same way he did when he was robbed of his own life years ago.

• the vengeance and the vice.

• “That you do.” he glances to your lips. “Is this your way of saying you’d like to plan one of my heists, ms. y/n?”

• if this is how everyone feels about winning an auction.

• maybe you were wrong about the tasteless rejectables of high society.

• “Do you doubt my skills, fox thief?”

• “Give me none of that,” he chuckles lowly. “I am no fox. Just a man who craves the best art in the world.”

• “And I’m just a woman who came here to beat your ass.”

• he smiles at you.

• thinking you’re definitely the one art piece he left behind that day he should’ve stole over anything else.

• “And now?”

• “Now I just want kiss your ass. For giving me the credit I’ve always deserved.”

• you think he’s the greatest creation.

• for knowing true art and what’s valuable—

• the recognition.

• not the fame.

• “Did you get to look at the art downstairs? My exhibit that’s been needing a skillful planner like yourself.”

• your eyebrows frown. “More stern on finding you.”

• he smirks. “How sweet. Though... why don’t we take a second glance at them, shall we?”

• you follow him out.

• his hands interlaced with yours.

• as your greeted to 7 other smirking men at not only your disposal, at the bottom of the staircase.

• thieves in their natural habitat.

• surrounded by paintings that none other than you had painted years ago.

• that you thought you had sold to an anonymous collector.

• “Now about that heist we talked about. Let’s start by stealing what you really deserve.”

• he spins you around.

• arm locked up with yours.

• “How’s my heart sound? What kind of a price would you put on that?”

• “A price only I could afford, I’m sure.”

@atinybitofau

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Keeping Me Alive

Chapter 8: I Am Machine

By @dracusfyre

On his first day back from Afghanistan, the portrait of Howard seemed to stare at him accusingly as Tony let himself into his workshop. It looked like it hadn't been touched since the day he left. The rest of the empty, echoing house was pristine, no doubt visited by cleaners the minute Ms. Potts got confirmation that Tony was coming home, but the workshop had always been off limits; there was even a film of dust over his cars, Tony noticed. Everything was as he left it with one exception: he found the blueprints to the armored suit on his desk along with a note. Looking forward to seeing what you come up with when you’re not in a cave – Stane. 

“Fuck you,” Tony swore, then balled up the note and threw it in the garbage. He stared at the plans for a moment, the ragged edges and stains from repeated handling, the notes along the edge in Yinsen’s neat handwriting, the crisp creases that came from Stane. With an explosive sound of rage, he shoved them off his desk, along with his tools and a mug from MIT that he used for pens and pencils; it shattered on the cement floor with a sharp crash. He sat down heavily in his chair and buried his face in his hands.

Tony realized he had been staring at his empty desk for some time when Ms. Potts tapped on the glass door to the lab. When he glanced up and saw her, she waved at him with a smile and pointed at the plastic bag she had in one hand. “JARVIS, let her in,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face and plastering some sort of expression there that approximated normal, whatever the hell that was these days. “Hello, Ms. Potts, what can I do for you today?”

“Hi, Mr. Stark, welcome home,” she said, eyes running over him with worry. She started to come around the desk to set down the carryout bag, and came up short when she saw the mess on the floor. She looked from it to Tony, who avoided her eyes, and with a soft sound she just nudged everything out of the way with the toe of her shoe. As she pulled out the food - Italian, from the smell – Tony suddenly realized he was starving. With a grateful smile, he pulled out the plastic fork and started to eat. She found a stool and pulled it over, stealing a warm breadstick from the bag. “You just got home, are you sure you should be back to work already?” she said with concern, tactfully not bringing up the mess on the floor at her feet.

“It’s worse when I’m just sitting around,” Tony answered, shrugging as he took a bite of manicotti. “I like to be busy.” The truth was, he wanted to go out his front door and walk until he couldn't walk anymore; his house felt like just as much of a prison cell as the cave had.

She looked dubious but didn’t argue. “I have your mail, if you want to take a look at it,” she said, pulling it out of her bag. “Mostly social invitations, once people heard you were coming home.”

“Just leave them, I’ll look at them later.”  He expected her to leave, but instead she lingered, chewing on her lip like she wanted to say something but was afraid to. “Was there something else?”

“Just…are you sure you’re alright? I thought you’d be, I don’t know…happier? To be home. If there’s anything I can do, I would be...” She trailed off as Tony put down his fork, eyes stinging and throat too tight to swallow. “I’m sorry, I overstepped, I’ll just-”

“You’re right, I’m not okay,” Tony said, glancing up to meet her worried gaze when he thought he could do it without breaking down. “But it’s nothing you can fix, so I’m just - for now at least – going to build things so I can pretend everything is okay.”

Ms. Pott’s gaze softened, and Tony had to look down at his food because she looked like given the least provocation she would give him a hug, and right now Tony wanted that more than he wanted to breathe. After a moment, he heard her sigh, and she said, “Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Stark.” Tony smiled faintly when he saw her take another breadstick from the stack as she stood.

“See you tomorrow, Ms. Potts,” Tony said to her back as she walked away.

Stane gave him three days before he came by to visit, bearing pizza and talking about board meetings and shareholders. Tony played along, nodding and offering comments in all of the appropriate parts, chewing the greasy pizza and waiting for him to get to the goddamn point already.

“So, Secretary Pierce was impressed by your little idea from Afghanistan,” Stane said as he got up and helped himself to some of Tony’s liquor. “He asked how long it would be until we had a prototype.” Tony knew what that meant: what Pierce wanted, Pierce better get. The man didn't rise to the top of Hydra by tolerating failure. 

“I don’t know,” Tony said, lying only a little bit. He didn’t know precisely how long it would take. Even though he hadn’t put pen to paper, the design had been running through his mind at all hours; just last night he had been brushing his teeth and realize SI had the patent to a gold-titanium alloy that would be lightweight but strong enough for the armor plating. Breakfast had reminded him of Howard’s repulsor technology, developed for the flying car project and since mothballed but much more efficient and effective than combustion propulsion. “This is something entirely different than what anyone has ever done before,” he pointed out. “The plans from Afghanistan were shit; I don’t even know if it was going to work.” That was a bigger lie. It would have. Not well, and not for long, but it would have gotten the job done.

Stane nodded thoughtfully, tapping his heavy gold class ring against the glass. “Of course. Well, we will be keeping an eye on you. I would suggest making this your priority, understand?”

“Yeah.” Not for the first time, Tony wished Stane would just fucking say what he meant. We are watching you. Do it now, or else. Suddenly done with the pretense of civil conversation, Tony got up and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. “Well, I guess I’ll get to it, shall I?” he said sarcastically, saluting Stane with the bottle as he took a drink, and left Stane in his living room as he went down to his workshop.

Tony resisted working on the suit for as long as he could, sick to death of being Stane’s dancing monkey. But the ideas in his head were driving him crazy, coming so thick and fast that he couldn’t think or sleep or even take a shower in peace. Finally, after a coffee fueled all-nighter, Tony was studying a 3D holographic rendering of the sleek, powerful suit that he’d been building in his mind for days now. As he watched the projection rotating slowly, he thought that there must be a word, in German or perhaps Russian, for the feeling when you are both proud and terrified of your own creation.

“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds,” Tony muttered. The suit was the most impressive thing Tony had ever designed, armed with all the weapons that Tony could miniaturize and able to run indefinitely on the power from Tony’s new and improved arc reactor. It was fast, maneuverable, and immensely destructive; with JARVIS on board to automate flight calculations and targeting, it was easily a one-man army. Brilliant, beautiful, and awful, all at once.

Even as he admired it, the thought of Stane seeing this was a sharp stab of icy terror in his chest, difficult to even breathe around. He thought of an army of these darkening the sky, flown by Hydra agents. They wouldn't sell these, he knew; they were too powerful. Hydra would want to keep these all to itself. He didn't even want to imagine what Hydra could do with even one of them, much less ten or a hundred. Just thinking about it threatened to give Tony a panic attack, and for the first time in his life he realized that this time, it might be better to let Hydra kill the people he loved than to give in to their demands.

His finger hovered over the delete key as he wavered. He couldn't risk Hydra finding these blueprints, but it had occurred to him more than once that with this suit, he could stand a chance against Hydra, against their STRIKE teams and even the Winter Soldier. The same plan he'd had to escape the Ten Rings, but with higher stakes and much higher risk of discovery.

After a long moment, Tony exhaled, and scrubbed his hands over his face. He closed out of the program without deleting anything, hiding and encrypting it on JARVIS’s secret servers. He knew that Stane also had SI’s R&D branch working on one of these suits as well, and theirs was predictably prosaic and uninspired – overlarge, cast iron, required huge batteries to power, and relied on combustion propulsion. Basically, exactly what Tony was going to build in the cave, but bigger and more polished. It was as different from Tony’s design as a dump truck from a Ducat but Tony wasn't going to tell them that.

Stretching, Tony noticed a bottle of whiskey he'd grabbed earlier and forgotten about sometime in the middle of his work binge. There was still a corner of liquor left in the bottle, so Tony didn’t bother with a glass as he took a sip and climbed the stairs to the main floor. Now the question was, how stupid could he play with Stane before Hydra lost patience with him and started sharpening their knives?

[sunflowers-heart]

The Dawn

Pairing: Fíli x Reader

Word count: 2,207

Warnings: Contains Feelings™

Author’s note: I was so astonished by @legolaslovely​‘s writing that I decided to write something myself to show my support and appreciation. Hopefully it’s enjoyable! Also, forgive me any eventual mistakes because English is not my native langauge so I might get lost in the grammar from time to time.

Never in your whole life there have been a time when the utter dread froze your trembling heart in its sharp claws, closing them around it and almosy suffocating, stealing the breath away from your lungs. Ironically, it was also the only impulse which seemed to keep you alive, to stay aware of your surroundings, quietly observing the majestic landscape in front of you which was now nowhere near as wonderful as you first thought, for the great mountains were now covered not only in the snow but the corpses of those who has fallen during the battle. It was a gruesome image, something you never thought you would ever experience in your short, human lifespan, the fate, however, seemed to have different plans for you.

The silence fell down upon the hills like a morning fog as the nature around the Lonely Mountain seemed to remain indifferent toward the war which has just taken place. There were no ringing horns, no screams nor shouted orders, no arrows slicing the thin air, no sound of steel armour hit with an axes—as if it was all but a fading memory, the one you were never going to forget.

Turning around from the high balcony on the main gate, you have decided that you could no longer wait and simply watch, especially now, since the elves were retrieving back to Dale and no orcs seemed to stay alive on the battlefield. The promise you swore to Fíli right before he headed out of the kingdom with the fire burning in the eyes, fading sun playing in the golden hair and heavy axe in the hand was the hardest goodbye at the same time. He begged you to listen to the voice of reason and—for once—to leave out the stubborn nature, so you would stay there, in the safe place where no weapon could reach you. Cradling you in his tight embrace, Fíli patiently explained how your presence would be the easiest way to get him distracted, since he would not simply focus on slaying an enemy, instead paying too much attention to whether you were alright.

„No,” he whispered, the gloved thumb wiping the burning tear from your cheek. „Please, do not ever assume that I think of you as less than perfect. Perfect woman, perfect friend, perfect company, perfect warrior. I do believe that your skills would be an indescribable advantage for our side but I beg you, my love, do not try to prove it. Not this time.”

He kissed your lips, swollen from the weeping of the misery of this whole situation, and the taste of the salty tears rested at the tip of his tongue until the first blow of the freezing air hit his face on an open field.

„I will come back to you as soon as this is over.” Fíli forced a smile and rested his forehead on your shoulder, savouring the scent of your skin in an attempt to convince himself that it was not the last time he could hold you in the arms. „I promise.”

„If you break this promise, Fíli...” you muttered angrily against his hair, kissing the tip of his head and embracing him as strongly as you could, wishing that you could hide him under the fabric of your tunic and wait until the storm passes.

„I won't.”

„But if you do, if you lie to me then I swear, I will kill you.” Your voice cracked despite the joke you were trying to form. „I will find you and kill you.”

Fíli looked at you with an amusement visible in the eyes and placed another soft kiss upon your lips, cupping your face in his hands, now covered in the rough leather.

„Deal,” he agreed. „I will take you at your word.”

But the battle was over now, the crows painting circles in the sky above the dead and you were still waiting. Rushing down the stairs, you heard the voices echoing from afar, the living ones coming back to the recaimed home which was now supposed to belong to them until the end of time. Anxiety building in your heart did not help you to calm your rapid heartbeat but it surely allowed you to run through the corridors faster than you thought you were able to. You had to see him, make sure that he was safe as sound—that he kept his promise.

The first familiar face you saw belonged to Dwalin, the Dwarf not even limping when he walked past you without a single word spoken. Concerned about his reaction, you stood in the place when your feet denied your orders and made you simply stare at the corner of the corridor where the next members of the company appeared, one by one, some hurt more or less, but all with the same, unreadable expression on their faces, hidden under the messy beards. The only one who stopped by your side was Balin, his hand landing heavily on your shoulder as he also joined the rest deep in the halls, leaving you after few delicate pats.

What was that supposed to mean? And where were the others? Where was Thorin and Kíli?

Where, for Mahal's sake, was Fíli?

You barely noticed Bifur passing you by when the tears filled your eyes, causing the whole surroundings to blur. The trembling of your heart was now strong enough to melt the freezing fear and to drown your whole body and soul in the burning grief. You muttered a quiet: „sorry” after pushing past poor Ori to get out of the kingdom. You had to get out of there, to get some fresh air, since the dark corridors seemed to strangle you more and more with every passing minute.

At first, the white snow laying on the cold stones almost blinded you when the rays of sun reflected through the crystal petals and you had to blink few times to adjust your sight to the image in front of you. If you thought that the battlefield was gruesome from the above, now you were convinced that it was just as tragic from the ground. The pure elves, the one considered eternal and immortal were laying on the snow, lifeless and unnamed among their dead brothers and cousins. Somewhere in the distance, you noticed the army of King Dáin marauding slowly to the gates of the Lonely Mountain, the banners held high above their heads. And despite all of it—the joy you were supposed to be feeling because of a winned war, the Erebor finally having the rightful king, the defeated dragon, the rising city of Dale—you have never felt as lost and lonely. After all, how were the gold and jewels supposed to fill the empty space in your heart?

Dizziness caused you to sat on the nearby stone as the time seemed to completely slow down. The day was so far away, just as the whole present, and you were caught somewhere in between, not being a part of Thorin's Company anymore, not belonging to the Erebor, not having Fíli by your side. Blinking few times, you were convinced that the wind will simply blow you off the Middle Earth now, like a dust from the piece of paper, and turn into nothing, but no matter how long you were waiting, it did not happen.

You were still there, sitting on the cool stone, sight glued to the mountains in front of you, unbearably alive.

That was, when you heard a rush somewhere near, the familiar click of an armour against a shield and something you faintly recognized as a giggle. Were you dreaming or delirious? Was your mind too overwhelmed by the sorrow so it decided to flow you with all the various kind of impulses to keep you sane? Slowly turning around, you saw the frames coming closer in your direction from the other side of the hill. Considering the distance, you were sure that there was at least two of them, but when you stood up and focused on the sight, you realized that it was, in fact, three of them—the one held in between the other two.

Once again, an inquiry popped in your head. Were you dreaming?

Despite not knowing the answer to that question, you could not linger anymore and so, your feet led you forward, starting with a firm march and soon transforming into the run. The closer you were to them, the more features you recognized; first, the slightly bent shoulders of Thorin, his long hair sticked with blood and falling down his shoulders as his arms were hanged around the other two Dwarves. Then, Kíli's hand held firmly against his side where the stain of blood soaked through his tunic and painted his chain mail in deep crimson. And surprisingly, Fíli was the last one you laid your eyes upon, as if you were afraid that it might not be him but someone else and the love of your life was still left somewhere in the mountains—cold and lifeless as the other warriors.

Fíli, however, was now in front of you, helping to carry his wounded uncle and the smile which played on his lips when he saw you was enough to prove that he, indeed, intended to keep his promise.

Many hours passed since the darkness of the night devoured the endless sky and the memory of the battle was nothing but an echo in the back of your mind. Ridiculous in itself, the whole day seemed to never happened, when you were sitting at the edge of your bed, Fíli standing still in front of you and observing your careful fingers as you treated his wounds. The one which was aimed at his ribcage was the worst but still not enough to take him away from you—however, if it only hit a little bit higher...

„Where are you?” Fíli's voice was low and calm, bringing you back to reality like a kiss of the rising sun on the skin.

„I am right here,” you told him, when the last bandage was placed firmly against his wound and he could put the tunic back on.

„No, my love, I can see it. You are still on the battlefield, even though you did not participate in the war.”

There was a silence between you two, the sweet one, filled with the scent of melting wax, the healing herbs and freshly dried clothes. Fíli's hair were set loose now, free from any kind of braids, since he insisted to wash them clean of blood and dirt before joining you in bed, now reminding you of curly waterfalls of gold—the only real treasure under the mountain. His eyes, however, remained soft and adoring, looking at you as if it was the very first time you met.

„I thought I lost you,” you admitted after a while, when he sat next to you and placed his hand upon yours, fingers entangling together. „I cannot simply ignore that feeling, it was there, present and real and I did believe I will never see you again.”

He tilted his head to the side, staring at you as if you were the most precious being in the whole existence—and prehaps, for him you really were.

„But I am here now and this is an unquestionable truth. There is no need to dwell into that memory, my love, not since we have the whole lifes ahead of us.”

„And would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?”

„Of course. I promised you that.” Fíli rised your combined palms to his lips and placed a butterfly kiss upon your skin. The warm feeling spread through your veins all the way to the heart, now calm and resting and so, so cheerful.

„Besides,” he added. „I had to tell you that I honestly am quite impressed that you listened to me and I owe you a big thanks for that. You know, I almost lost a bet with Kíli—he said that you won't stay behind the gates for longer than an hour.”

„You had a bet?” You frowned but the involuntary smile betrayed your amusement.

„It was his idea, though.”

Playfully, you poked him in the arm with your elbow, careful to not cause him any pain. As strong and enduring he was, he surely did not need more harm.

„I can believe you.” You nodded. „Still, the whole three of you gave me quite a huge scare today...”

„And I am sorry for that.”

„...But I am glad to have you back.” You gently took a single strand of his hair and placed it behind his ear, peeking at his lips and longing to finally kiss it. „I do not know what I would do without you, Fíli.”

„Fortunately, you do not have to know. And you never will.”

The kiss you two shared this evening did not taste like tears anymore, on the contrary, it was as sweet as the promise of the upcoming day, bright and full of possibilities. A new chapter in the story you wanted to write with him by the side, until there were no blank pages left.

And, prehaps, maybe even some more.

[rubberchickeny]

A Jaime/Brienne C.B. Strike crossover drabble

I've been re-watching C.B. Strike before the start of the new season, and I couldn't help but see it's crossover possibilities. For anyone who doesn't know, C.B. Strike is a detective drama on HBO about an interesting detective Cormoran Strike and his assistant. This is just for fun, as I own neither Cormoran Strike or Jaime Lannister or anything else in either universes. So, a little drabble where Brienne the temp meets PI Jaime Lannister, at a bad time. I'll call it:

The beginning of a beautiful partnership

Brienne Tarth was not easily shaken, but even she was mildly surprised at the row that was easily heard from the upstairs. A woman was screeching and there was a quieter male voice that sounded to Brienne like he at least tried to keep the volume down.

"I can't live with a psycho anymore," he said, and Brienne heard something throws across.

Working as a temp had had Brienne working in very different places, but she had never worked as an assistant for a private investigator before. This was an interesting start for sure. 

"You need me, you just watch."

"I want you gone this time. "

Brienne was now getting closer to the fight, and she could see that it did indeed come from the office she was headed to herself.

"You'll be crawling back! You always do!"

The frosted glass showed the woman nearing the door now, and Brienne barely made it out of the way in time as she came barging through. The blonde woman rushed down the stairs and didn't give Brienne a single glance. 

Brienne took a calming breath and was about to knock on the door when it opened aptruptly, and nearly knocked her down for the second time. Brienne felt herself starting to fall, but the man at the door grabbed at her coat and was able to keep her upright. Her coat ripped, though, as did her blouse.

This was awkward and embarrassing.

The man showed her into his office and told her to sit. There was barely a clean place to

do that, as the whole office was in disarray. The floor was covered with unopened mail with stamps like "final notice" and papers strewn about, and the little sofa had a pillow and a blanket, as if it had just been slept in.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "Are you alright?"

Brienne tried to mend her blouse that was showing too much of her modest cleavage. As it did nothing, she left it alone, and tried not to blush. It's not like it made that much difference with a flat chest.

The man, as handsome as he was, had seen better days. Brienne wasn't sure if he was hungover or still drunk. He had more than stuble but less than a beard on his chiseled jaw and his eyes were bloodshot. On normal days they were probably green.

"So, who are you?" the man asked, looking rumpled and genuinely curious.

Brienne got up and offered her hand. "I'm the new temp, here for the week." 

The man ignored her offer of a handshake, and murmured something about having cancelled it. Definitely having cancelled.

"They are quite strict on refunds," Brienne put out. That was true enough, but she also needed and wanted this job. She had been so excited to get a gig at a place that did investigative work. This was why she had taken Psychology in university. Until she had had to quit.

The man rubbed his face, trying to decide what to do. 

"I'll just take these," he muttered and cleared the sofa.

"Do you want me to--" Brienne started to ask.

"I'll be in my office," he said, though not unkindly. He closed the door after him.

He hadn't looked very well, so Brienne couldn't blame him.

This was going to be an interesting week.

[destinyesque]

Might Not Make it Home

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32632597/chapters/80949649

North Imaria has been under the merciless rule of the crown for over two decades and it seems the people have finally had enough. Unrest stirs among even the tiniest towns in the frozen mountains. Main streets grow silent as the noble guard rallies. There's enough fuel for the revolutionary fire; someone just needs to light the fuse.

Vizara is a bard, and a damn good one at that. She's played at taverns all across the north, seen the fight grow in her people. Her whole life has been for this. All the sleeping around, the ale and food and coin-all of it is secondary (not that she doesn't enjoy it). She's going to rouse her people into glorious rebellion against the unjust monarchy, and she's going to win. She just doesn't know how difficult it is going to be.

___________________

A young woman in vibrant violet clothes strummed on her lute, tapping her toe in time to the beat of the lively tavern tune. She directed a wink at a bargoer close to her before leaping up onto his table. Carefully avoiding the empty plates, her purple slippers stomped down on the wood with a soft, but audible thump. She sucked in a deep breath and began to sing. The song, “The Pickpocket's Lover”, was well known here, and soon the tavern patrons were singing and clapping along with the music. The woman weaved gracefully between the tables, spinning and dancing as the tune picked up speed. The whip-quick braid in her hair followed her eagerly, drawing curves in the air behind her head when she whirled around to play for the crowd behind her. Cheeks flushed dark with exertion and sweat dripping down her brow, she drew the song to its end. At the far side of the room, she struck the final chord, took a beer from one of the waitresses, and downed half of it in one gulp. The crowd at the tavern, now some forty or fifty people, cheered. The woman raised her mug in the air triumphantly.

 "Here's to th' North!" she cried, to even more applause, and then made as if to throw the mug to the ground. The waitress she'd taken the beer from quickly stilled her hand, as if she was expecting it. If she said anything to the bard, nobody could hear it for all the noise. The bard shrugged and took another swig. "'right y'all, I just gotta wet my throat a moment, then I'll be right back with ya." She fired another wink into the crowd as she made towards the kitchen, and if she kicked her lute case (already harboring quite a bit of coin) a little further towards the crowd, none of them seemed to care.

 The woman slipped through the door to the kitchen, soon followed by the waitress. At the last glimpse of her violet tunic and teal beads, the crowd turned back to their food and drink. The kitchen door swung shut, and that was the last any of them saw of the bard that night.

 ~~~~~

 Past that kitchen door, the bard nabbed a piece of fresh bread from the cook's hands, to an indignant "hey!" with no real malice behind it. She turned to the waitress with the smile of one who knows she has done something quite wrong, but who does not care. Appropriately, the waitress had a rather unimpressed expression across her face.

"Good show, eh?" The bard said through a mouthful of warm bread. The waitress huffed.

"Quite." The bard went on eating, as if oblivious to the other woman's annoyance.

"I'm thinking about addin’ a few more new songs to my repertoire." she said, "I've been writin’ some pretty songs as of late. 'Specially the ones about the coming revolution." She eyed the waitress at the last sentence with a hint of humor in her voice.

"Give me that!" The waitress ripped the hunk of bread from the bard's hands to another surprised "hey!" from the offended party. "You need to keep quiet about that revolution of yours. The only reason anyone here tolerates your ridiculous ideas is that you bring in good business. Step too far out of line, and we'll all get in more trouble than any of us can deal with."

"The crowd seemed to like me," the bard supplied. "It's strange, how the northerners seem to like the North. Can I please have my bread back?"

"Take this seriously! I know you couldn't care less about the rest of us, but if you get arrested, you won't get any work either!"

"I ain't planning on gettin' arrested, my friend. I'm only planning on gettin' the damn army outta here. And you can plan on gettin' business so long as there's any folk left here. Nobody's gonna care that I think the guard should get fucked. Hell, that's what they all think too."

"I hate you," the waitress growled, wild-eyed.

"Should'a said that 'fore you slept with me," the bard retorted, plucking her bread back from the waitress and promptly turning to walk further into the kitchen.

"Also, stop trying to smash my damned mugs!" the waitress yelled before slamming open the kitchen door open and walking back out into the tavern.

"I think you sang real well t'night, Vizara." the cook put in after a moment.

"Thank you!" Vizara, the bard, answered. "I can always count on you t' give a girl the credit she deserves."

The cook sighed deeply. "I do think you should cut back on the whole--well--the things that Melya was talkin’ about." She leaned over to inspect a simmering pot of stew in lieu of meeting the gaze of the bard.

It was a while before Vizara answered her. "I know. I don't want t' hurt y'all's business, really. I'm just damn tired of the damn monarchy and their damned games. So is everybody else. All they need is a push, and then we can get rid of the guard. Don't you wanna be free of kings? I sure as hell do.

Plus, I'm only here a handful'a times a year. I surely can't bring any real suspicion down here. Hell, Melya was just about the only waitress I recognized when I got here. Not that y'all have many other waitresses."

"Sometimes I think you talk just to hear your own voice," the cook commented. She ladled some of the stew into a bowl and handed it to Vizara. "Take one of the cloaks on the wall by the door and head outside for a bit, ‘kay? I'll talk to Melya,"

"Don't want me 'round anymore, huh?" she joked, pulling a cloak over her thin tunic and bare shoulders. "Really, you're the best, Eviah. The only one around here with any manners,"

Eviah made no reply, simply shooing the bard out the door with a roll of her eyes.

 The wind outside was biting cold. It was easy to forget near the fires and warm food of the tavern, but it worked its way through the fabric of the cloak in a matter of moments. Vizara huddled on one of the stairs leading down from the back door, watching for a few moments as her breath turned to mist.

"'bit like a dragon, ain't it?" she murmured to herself. "If only I had a horde of gold to go along with it."

She drew the cloak in closer. "Warm fire'd be good too." She absently cast her gaze around the small, dark alley. There was a bit of snow on the ground, but not enough to cause any trouble to pedestrians and carts, not that the carts could fit into the alley in any case. The overhanging roofs of the tavern and another nearby shop blocked most of the light from the moon, which was probably good, since nobody would've wanted to see the sundry food waste tossed back there. Vizara could hear the quiet rustling of what she presumed was a few rats digging about in the garbage, but far be it from her to take a look. She wrapped her hands around the hot bowl to bring some feeling back into her fingers, a bit numb from both the lute and the cold.

So she sat, eating her stew as the night went on and the comforting bustle of the tavern carried on behind her. After a short while, she set the empty bowl down beside her and took the lute off her back. Soft music began to drift up amongst the scuttling of the rats as she strummed the first few notes to a love song.

“Maybe I’ll play this one next,” she whispered. She leaned back against the door and hummed along to the quiet tune.

Her fingers stilled only a moment later as she heard some odd noise out in the street, past the entrance to the alleyway. The shriek of an animal (or perhaps a child? she couldn't say) echoed off the close walls.

“The hell was that?” She got to her feet, turning her head toward the noise. Again, the same shriek. Certainly the sound of a person now.  

Vizara fumbled in the waistband of her pants for a small knife, not much more than a toothpick. She dropped the cloak from her shoulders and slung her lute across her back once more.

With a deep breath, she crept out onto the street, tiny blade in hand. It was dark; few lanterns were ever out at night. The town was small, its people poor. Still, with a cursory glance, she saw the silhouettes of three or four people cast in the light of the brothel across the street. The screams hadn't stopped—they'd just gotten quieter. They'd become yelps, and then wordless protests, and now, just pained whimpering.

 She could see now—as she snuck ever closer—the small body of a child held down by the much bigger guards. The blade in her hand felt insufficient, useless. She faltered, slowed almost to a stop. The guards hadn't noticed her. She was quiet and they were occupied with the protesting figure in the dirt beneath them. She could back away into the alley just as easily as she had left it, and nobody would be the wiser. The crowd awaited her back in the tavern. She was much better suited to that kind of work—the rustling up, the inspiring, not the fighting itself. But, hell, who was she if she didn’t practice what she preached? And who was getting hurt in her place if she did nothing?

​

The glint of silver mail in the low light caught her eye once more. The crest of the royal family glowed gold on the guards' tunics, splashed with mud and blood and violence. Another strangled cry slipped from the child's lips as he was jabbed with the butt end of a spear. She was only a few lengths away from the closest guard. A full body shiver struck Vizara's body, shaking the little knife in her hand.

​

She started into a run, the movement catching the attention of one of the guards. They shouted to their companions, but the warning came too late. Vizara, much shorter than the guard nearest her, jabbed her knife into his armpit, where she knew was an opening in his armor. He stumbled back with a heavy huff, and the knife was yanked from Vizara's hands. She reached for it again, her left hand up to defend herself from the other two guards. Her fingers brushed the handle, but she couldn't get a good grip on it—she'd sunk the whole blade into his arm. Plus, he and his two companions were getting his wits about him once more. He was going for his spear amongst a slew of curses. It didn't come to that. Vizara heard a monstrous Crack! and then a moment later, her left arm flared up in pain. She fully lost hold of the knife. It didn't matter anymore. Her arm—what happened to her arm? She looked up to the flash of silver as she was struck in the chest with the blunt end of a spear.

​

She went down with a heavy huff. Her arm throbbed and maybe she couldn’t use her fingers? And her face was in the dirt and her chest ached and she couldn’t see anything for the dark and the terror.

​

She looked out over her injured arm, bleary and gasping. The child—a young elf, no older than fifteen—still lay prone on the ground, one of the three guards standing above him. Vizara's vision swam as dread descended.

​

One of the guards kicked her over onto her back and she rolled painfully over her lute. She winced, tried to sit up, but was immediately pushed right back down, slamming her head into the dirt.

​

"Fuck." she sucked in a breath. "Can—can I at least move the lute? Don't want to break the lute."

​

The guard who'd kicked her—a woman who Vizara would find attractive in any other situation—grabbed her collar and none-too-gently yanked her into a sitting position. Another guard maneuvered the lute from her back, jostling her hurt arm and eliciting a rather embarrassing whimper from her. She gathered up her wits and forced the stars out of her eyes.

​

"Ah, thank you." Vizara babbled, forcing a smile. "As a good bard once said 'you can break my bones but not my banjo'."

​

"You fucking stabbed me!" bellowed the guard she'd stabbed, and swung the body of the lute into her head.  

  ~~~~~~

 Vizara awoke with what she at first thought was a bad hangover. She felt groggy, confused, and her head pounded—a situation she'd found herself in many a time before. She moaned in pain and closed her eyes once more, but she found no comfort in sleep, for she had neither pillow nor bed to sleep on. Instead, the surface beneath her was hard, rough, and cold.

​

Her eyelids were heavy, and as her conscious awareness grew, she forced them open. Bewilderment abounded for a few moments. Where the hell was she?

​

The room was dark and small. A barred window above her head cast a square of light on the stone floor and glinted off the edge of a tarnished metal bucket. She recognized the trappings of the room—a prison cell for sure, she’d been in more than enough to know—but it took her a few moments to recall the circumstances that had landed her here. She had been all set to perform at the bar the night before; she'd make a bit of coin, flirt with some strangers, and sleep with even more of them. Clearly, something had gone wrong. Such a waste of a good night!

​

She racked her brain, piecing together all that had happened after her performance: the conversation with Melya and Eviah, the cold alley, and then the sight of the guards kicking a child that had spurred her to action. A grim satisfaction came over her as she remembered stabbing one of the guards in the armpit. At least she'd done some good damage before she'd gone down. Nothing after that came back to her. She must have gotten her ass kicked pretty quick after the stabbing; the pain in her head and her arm could attest to that.

​

She touched her injured arm, and it didn’t hurt terribly. The ambient light described an ugly bruise. Nothing that wouldn’t heal. And her head ached, but she could deal with that. After all, it wasn’t much worse than her usual hangover. Vizara felt across her chest for any more injuries. There was a pain in her left side when she pressed down on it, but it didn't seem to be too serious. She huffed a sigh of relief and immediately winced when her chest took issue with it. All things considered, she’d gotten off pretty easy.

​

With a grunt, she stood up. She could make out the shape of a wooden door in the dim. There was a slit under it through which a bit of light trickled. Probably how food was delivered to the prisoners. The thought of other prisoners stuck in Vizara's mind for a second—what had happened to the child? She prayed to any god that would pay her mind that he had gotten away. Although… if there were other prisoners, maybe she could orchestrate an escape. She'd been learning to rouse the masses for years now; surely, she could incite some kind of prison riot or revolution if she had to. But where was her lute? She didn't need that to inspire crowds, but it sure helped.

​

"If you bastards stole my lute," she murmured to no one. "I'm gonna fuckin' lose it."

​

She looked around the room, but there were only stone walls and one window and a dingy chamber pot. Nothing practical to help her, and no lute in sight.

​

Without anything to do and no chance of getting back to sleep, Vizara spent what seemed to be an interminable amount of time pacing about the cell. She found herself shivering in the cold air, but the movement helped. If she didn't find a way to get out of here soon, she could very well be stuck in this hellhole forever. The law of the kingdom wasn't known for its charity.

 The light from the small window had significantly brightened and then dimmed again by the time Vizara saw any company. She reckoned it was around sunset when there came the clamor of heavy footsteps outside her cell door. She moved to the back corner of the cell to give herself a bit of space once the guards came in; for they were coming in—the rustle of keys and the sound of voices reached her, dampened by the thick door but still clear enough. There was a soft click, and the door swung open, light from the hallway beyond cascading in. Vizara squinted at the loss of comfortable darkness.

​

There were three guards, dark in the doorway, just like the night before. She couldn't tell if they were all the same ones, but she vaguely recognized one of the female guards. They were dressed in the customary mail, with the sign of the monarchy across their chests. The longswords at their hip drew Vizara's eyes—she couldn't brute force her way past them, even if she had a weapon of her own.

​

She allowed two of the guards to approach her and none-too-gently shackle her right arm, hooking the other end of a long chain to a bar in the window. They backed away, now out of her reach, as if she posed any kind of danger to them.

​

"Vizara Whitecrest," the female guard started.

​

"Hello, yes, that's me," Vizara said, a fake smile on her lips. "It seems my reputation precedes me."

​

"I don't care much for pleasantries." she glowered. "I am only here to assess your account and determine an appropriate punishment."

​

"That's just great." Vizara sat down and put her hands in her lap. "I'm sure you know, I was rather very drunk last night, and quite out of my right mind. Now, I had no intention of attackin' anyone yesterday, but you must understand, certain things are bound to happen when one is that inebriated."

​

"I didn’t come here for idle chat and excuses." she said. "No proper bard drinks during her performance.”

 “Now there’s your problem, sweetheart. I ain’t any kind’a proper bard.”

  “You sure as hell didn’t seem drunk when you stabbed Oliver.” The woman harrumphed. “I’ve never seen a drunkard harm a trained guard, let alone one your size.”

 Vizara shrugged. “’Spose I got lucky.”

 “See, I don’t think you did. You knew just where to aim, and I’m damned if your aim wasn’t perfect.” She considered. “You’ve done this before.”

 “I ain’t done nothin’ of the sort.” Vizara insisted, and she could only blame her pounding head when she added “Only time I’ve laid a hand on a guardsman is in bed, and he damn near begged me to hit him.”

 The guard’s face screwed up in something halfway between annoyance and fury. Vizara winced, her smile falling. “I don’t mean any offense or nothin’, course! I’m just—"

 Patience run out, the guard strode into her space and slammed her into the wall, cutting her off with a sharp gasp. Her left arm pinned Vizara's shoulders to the wall, her right pressing into Vizara’s wounded chest. The bard wheezed in pain, and her mask of nonchalance faded into visible distress.

 ​“We both know you weren’t drunk, you stupid fucking half-elf.” She ground Vizara’s shoulders into the wall. “I’m not here to play games, and I don’t tolerate lies. If you’d like to keep your head, you’ll tell me everything. I want to know if you’ve attacked guardsmen before, and what I can do to make you never attack us again. I want to know about every Northerner who so much as fucking thought about going after the guard. Lie to me once more, and I will make sure you never sing again.”

 "I—" Vizara pushed against the guard's adamant armor before she could think better of it. "Fucking—get off me!"

​

The woman moved in an instant, grasping Vizara's left hand in her armored gauntlet and pinning it against the wall. Vizara couldn’t even tell what was happening until the guard’s dagger was flashing against her throat and she was screaming into it. Her head slammed against the stone wall and she almost didn't feel it when the guard let her drop to the floor.

​

She took in gasping breaths as her vision returned. She clapped her hand to her neck, now pulsing with blood. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling. Her throat worked painfully, as if trying to swallow back down the lost blood.

​

“It’s not hard,” the woman said, "all you need to do is sit there and tell the truth.” Then, to someone else, she ordered, “go make sure the windows are boarded for the storm. I can handle her.”

​

She knelt in front of Vizara and grasped her chin in one metal hand. The bard moaned and tried to turn away, but to no avail. She was weak and reeling from the pain.

​

The guard turned Vizara's face toward her own. Vizara saw the other two guards had left them, and the door to the cell was closed. She and the guard were alone now and there was no one there to save her from her suffering.

 “I’m not afraid to carve out your vocal cords and let you choke on blood until I’m kind enough to let our healer seal you shut. And right now, I’m really considering it for the insolence alone.” Her voice was quiet now. Soft. Almost saccharine sweet with the way she breathed into Vizara’s ear. “You’re lucky I’m nice. This doesn’t have to get any more difficult than you've already made it."

​

Even bleeding her brain dizzy, Vizara wasn't fooled. She would suffer more tortures before any of these people had finished with her. Not much of anything could save her now from that. But she was hurt. And she was alone. And she was afraid. And she wanted it to be over.

 "I'm don't know anyone else," Vizara rasped, tasting copper on her tongue. "I'm on my own. The tavern—they don't pay me or anythin' like that. I'm just there to make some coin and they want more business. 's that simple. 'm not from here, either. Don't know anyone here, 'cept a few folks I'm a bit familiar to. Nobody from my hometown's seen me in months. They're innocent in all this."

​

All of the sudden, it was very hard to breathe. There was a roaring in her ears.

​

"Please, I'm beggin' you. Don't hurt them," Vizara felt pinprick tears in the corners of her eyes. "Don't hurt me, neither, please. 'm just a fool of a bard. Wanted t' fight against the kingdom, someway, somehow. And I was stupid. I can’t do anythin’ all on my own. I can hardly defend myself. I ain’t a threat to anyone, ‘specially not the guard. I promise, I didn't want nobody to get hurt, 'least, nobody I cared much about. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’a done that. I’m so sorry."

​

The cell and the woman before her became watery, submerged in her own tears. The guard straightened up and Vizara waited for a blow to fall upon her. She waited for a reply. Waited for something. Waiting for anything better than waiting.

​

Damn near an eternity passed between them in silence, and Vizara finally peeked out of the shelter of her arms. The guard was looking at her, but not. She had cocked her head to one side to listen to something outside of the room. Vizara listened as best she could between the heaving of her chest and the tiny gasps hiccupping from her throat. There was a roar, she thought, like a great waterfall or a stampede of animals. She heard it faint, but even as she listened it came closer as if to suffocate her in the noise. She futilely clapped her free hand to a sensitive half-elf ear. A sense of dread came over her, but also a desperate hope. If this loud, horrible noise was as powerful as it seemed, maybe it could tear her away from here. Maybe it could drag the guard away. Hell, she’d be glad if this thing killed her if it meant escaping the grasp of this merciless woman. A woman who was now standing in the middle of the cell, paying no more attention to Vizara.

​

Vizara removed her hand from her ear, wincing at the booming, cacophonous sound. She pushed herself to her feet, but as the ground trembled, she fell back upon the floor. She pressed her left ear to the ground and her hand to her right, and she tried to keep the blood from slipping through her fingers. She pulled her legs to her chest and huddled close into herself. The noise was now right on top of her. This is the end of the world, rang clear in Vizara's tangled thoughts.

​

There was a tremendous crash, and everything shook, and small stones fell on Vizara's prone form.

​

And after a time, the noise receded into the distance.

​

And it was deafeningly quiet.

​

Vizara's ears rang and everything that she was hurt. She curled ever closer as wracking cries filled her chest.

​

But at the very least, she was alive.