#and two) when the pair first arrive at the school to find the spirit guide

[brokenhardies]

im definetly going to write some leia in the school holidays (remember, its kind of a 2020s remake of 17 again but also kind of an original found family story)

[maximons]

Perfect

Summary: Wanda Maximoff and Y/n L/n, two kindred spirits that find themselves drawn to each other. And because of this, they knew their first date wouldn’t be anything less than perfect.

Word Count: 2,462

Genre: College AU, Fluff

Requested?: Yes

A/N: Hope ya’ll like your teeth rotting, cause that’s all this is :)

You first saw Wanda Maximoff in early October.

In hindsight, you couldn’t believe you didn’t notice her sooner. It was in your psychology class on a Friday afternoon. The class was required for your major, and it was also your last class of the day and the last one of the week, so you weren’t the most excited to be there. You leaned back in your chair, pen twirling in your hand, listening to the professor drone on about...something. You weren’t really paying attention.

You assumed she asked a question, because a few stray hands shot up in the air. One was selected, and a voice started speaking.

And, oh wow...you were paying attention now.

The beautiful voice was deeper, raspy. It held your attention, pulling you in even if you didn’t want to be, which you very much did. What intrigued you the most was the slight accent that was laced within it. You couldn’t pinpoint where it was from exactly, but you would guess European. Eastern European maybe.

Hypnotizing.

“Thank you, Miss Maximoff, that was actually very insightful.” You snapped back into reality at the sound of your professors voice. You leaned back into your seat, eyes drifting over to the owner of the voice.

You couldn’t see her face, as you were seated in the back of the lecture hall and she was closer to the front, but your gaze was met with a beautiful head of flowing red hair. You could tell that it wasn’t natural, most likely dyed, but it didn’t make it any less gorgeous. Right then and there, you made it a goal to get closer to this girl. You brought the tip of your pen to your lips, biting on it slightly. A smile grew on your face, still staring at the back of her head.

“Well, hello Miss Maximoff.”

The opportunity to talk to her arose the next week. You walked into class, few minutes earlier than you usually did, eyes scanning the room. You were happy to see the head of red hair that plagued your mind for the last few days already in her seat. This time though, you got to see her face. Your jaw dropped slightly.

She’s beautiful.

You snapped yourself out of it, not wanting to risk getting caught staring. You casually made your way through the room and up a few steps. However, instead of going to your usual seat in the back of the hall, you plopped yourself down into the seat next to hers.

You slid your bag off your shoulder, shoving it under the table in front of you, staring forward. You noticed the redhead turn her gaze towards you, wondering why you were sitting there you were sure. After a few moments, her gaze still lingered on you, so you took a chance and turned you head. You gave her a small smile.

“Hey.” You said quietly, as casual as you could. You didn’t want her to think you were some kind of stalker, sitting next to her just to get close to her.

Well, yeah that’s what you were doing, but you didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.

She simply responded with the same smile and greeting before turning her attention back towards the front of the room. Just then, your professor walked in and the lecture started.

After about a half hour of half listening, your ears perked up at the next thing out of her mouth. “Alright, get into pairs and discuss.”

Yes! This was your chance. Normally you hated group work, especially in this class since none of your friends shared it with you, but today you were excited.

You turned your head towards the redhead only to find her looking at you. You gave her a nervous chuckle. “You wanna...” You trailed off, but she caught on to what you were saying on saying and nodded. You smiled. “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Y/n.” You straightened yourself up, holding out your hand for her to take.

She chuckled as she took it. “I know. Dr. Logan keeps scolding you for not paying attention.” She teased, accent present as ever. You laughed nervously. 

“That’s me.” She laughed a little more at that, and man you loved the sound. 

“I’m Wanda.”

You smiled. Wanda Maximoff. What a name.

You started discussing the topic at hand, conversation flowing pretty easily between you two. You quickly caught on to how her accent would thicken when saying certain words. You hung onto every word that flowed out of her mouth. She was also incredibly smart and insightful, but not in a condescending or pretentious way. She was perfect.

You were a goner.

The next few weeks you would continue sitting next to her, and finding reasons to talk to her. You became each others go to partners for class activities. You even formed a friendship outside of class, slowly making your way from acquaintances to friends. You introduced her to your friend group, and she did to hers. You hung out everyday, even began to crash at each others places, it was amazing.

The end of the semester quickly approached, and you were packing your bags to go home for winter break. You and Wanda swore to keep in contact and talk as much as you could. Before you officially left campus though, you had to do something in person. You made your way to Wanda’s dorm and knocked. She answered, and before she could get a word out, you asked the question that’s been on the tip of your tongue for months.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

You knew it was a last minute request, but you didn’t want to do it over the phone. And when you got to see her smile grow as she nodded excitingly, you knew it was the right choice.

You never got around to setting a day because her twin brother, Pietro, was essentially rushing her out of the building, ready to go home. She called over her shoulder that she would call you. And she did as soon she could.

You both decided that you would wait until spring semester and go to the nice restaurant that was in town, it was a popular date sight for those in your school. It sounded like a plan.

But two weeks later, you decided you had a better one.

Wanda was a free spirit, and you were pretty unconventional yourself. Dinner dates were more for couples that didn’t know each other well and wanted to have their first meeting in a public setting. That wasn’t you two. You were great friends already, and you didn’t want to be stuck in the confines of the etiquette of the restaurant. You wanted to be 100% yourself, and you wanted her to be as well.

Wanda was very confused when you asked her where she lived and if she was free tomorrow night. She knew you were up to something, but she didn’t know what. When she asked, you simply said “Trust me.” And she did.

Wanda only lived an hour and a half from you. Perfect. Easy drive.

The next night, you grabbed the keys to the pickup truck that you shared with your dad. You packed what you think you two would need, and then you took off.

An hour and a half later, you arrived at Wanda’s place. Whoa. She practically lived in a mansion. Someone neglected to tell you that she was loaded. You laughed to yourself, thinking of the ways you could tease her about it later. You parked your truck a little ways down the street, so it wasn’t immediately noticeable to the residents inside. You got out and made your way over to the back of the truck. You leaned against it, and pulled out your phone.

“Hey, Y/n!” Wanda answered excitingly, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Hello there, Miss. Maximoff. What are you up to this fine evening?” You said in a terribly butchered British accent, but Wanda found it amusing and laughed.

“Nothing much, I just got out of the shower.”

“Ah, perfect. Say, instead of getting ready for bed...you might wanna put something warm on.”

Wanda furrowed her brow in confusion, but smiled at your antics. You were up to something. “What did you do?”

“Me? Oh nothing, why would you think that?” You said in mock hurt, and she laughed again. “But I wouldn’t mind it if you made your way outside...” You trailed off, and before Wanda could ask why. You hung up.

A few minutes later, Wanda walked outside. She was dressed casually, jeans and a red sweater. She had her white coat pulled tightly around her, and she tugged on her black scarf as she walked down the walkway.

Absolutely beautiful.

Confusion was plastered on her face, she looked around for a moment, not understanding why she wanted you to go outside. She pulled out her phone, ready to call you again, when she heard a loud honk. She made her way down the street towards the sound, and she gasped slightly when she saw you.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed and started running towards you. She jumped up into your arms, legs wrapping around you in a tight hug. Both of you sported wide smiles as you laughed. After a few moments, Wanda hopped off of you, smile still wide as she looked at you. “What are you doing here!?”

“Well, I know we talked about how we’d go down to the restaurant, which we can still do if you want to, but I figured...it wouldn’t be us if we didn’t go for a little adventure for our first date.”

Wanda smiled. She was also thinking something similar, but she wanted this to work with you, so she thought she’d play it safe for the first date. She should’ve known better though, because you were you. You didn’t care for societal norms, you played everything by ear, and you faced life head on and in the moment. You were perfect to her. “And where would we be going, Miss L/n?”

“Well, that’s the best part.” You started as you opened the passenger door for Wanda. “I have no idea. We’ll let the road guide us.” You made a gesture to the road, causing the redhead to laugh. 

“Alright, Y/n. Show me the way.” You smiled as you helped her in the truck. You closed the door, and made your way over to the drivers seat, taking off a moment later.

About two hours later, you were still on the road. You didn’t know exactly where you were, and you didn’t care. All you cared about was the beautiful girl beside you. You’ve been engaged in various conversations throughout the night, some playful, some serious, but all of them were amazing. You could talk to this woman for the rest of your life and you would never get bored.

You were making your way through a tunnel, and since it was nearing 1am by this point, it was only you. Wanda shot you a mischievous look ad she hit the button to the truck’s sunroof. You chuckled. “Whatcha doing there?”

“You ever wonder what it would feel like to fly?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“Well this...” Wanda clicked her seatbelt off and carefully stood on the seat. “Is the closest you can get to it.” She stood up, sticking the upper half of her body out of the roof. 

You panicked for a moment. You were driving pretty fast, and were sure this was unsafe. You didn’t want anything to happen to her. You were about to say something, but then Wanda let out a boisterous laugh. “This is amazing!” She let out a scream of excitement. “Y/n, turn the music up!”

You couldn’t help but smile. This woman was truly amazing. You couldn’t bring yourself to worry about the safety measures when she was enjoying herself like this. You obliged and turned the radio up, and Wanda began singing along to the words and, oh wow...

If you thought her speaking voice was captivating...her singing voice was just something else entirely. You were smiling as wide as you possibly could, enjoying this moment. 

It was perfect.

Soon enough though, the end of the tunnel was approaching. There was a metal bar that hung low, so you decided now was the time to pull her back. You tugged on her pant leg. “Okay, Supergirl, get back in here before your head gets torn off.” You laughed, and Wanda soon dropped back in her seat, laughing with you.

You wanted to get a good look at the girl sitting next to you, have a conversation where you could pay attention to her entirely and not having to split your focus. “You up for one more stop?” You asked. Wanda nodded excitingly. 

“Of course.”

You drove for about five more minutes when you spotted a small vacant park. You pulled over to the side of the road and park, and got out. You opened the door open for Wanda again, and helped her get out. You then made your way to the backseat and pulled out the blankets you decided to bring, before walking with Wanda to the center of the park.

You laid down one of the blankets on the grass, and when you both laid down on it, you pulled the other one on top of you.

You spent the next half hour or so in deep conversation, staring at the stars. You didn’t want this night to end, but when you saw Wanda let out a yawn, you figured it would have to soon.

“Alright, we should start heading back. We gotta get you to bed, Miss Bezos.” Wanda smacked your arm at you poking fun at her financial status. “Actually, I’m sure you have a private jet that can pick us up. where’s Alfred at?” You both laughed harder as Wanda hit you again. You two began wrestling, play fighting with each other, when eventually you let Wanda win. She rolled on top of you, pinning you down. 

You continued laughing for a few more moments, before it died down. You were both then very aware of your position and blushed. You looked into each others eyes for a moment, and then Wanda began speaking.

“Tonight was just...so perfect. Thank you, Y/n.” She said softly, and you smiled.

“Of course.” 

You stayed there, staring into each others eyes for another moment, before Wanda started leaning down. You picked your head up, meeting her in the middle, and your lips locked in a soft kiss. You both smiled as you deepened the kiss.

This was for sure the perfect end to a perfect evening.

[weelittleweasley]

destined for you (d.m.)

prompt requested by @sincerelymalfoy: everyone wanted to find their soulmate. that was except for draco malfoy. in this world, you find your soulmate because you can feel the same physical pain as them. this makes it harder for draco to avoid finding his soulmate.

pairing: draco malfoy x soulmate! fem! reader, friend! ron weasley x friend! reader

warnings: mentions of previous d*mestic ab*se, language, blood (from a nose bleed), burns from an open flame

word count: 5.6k

a/n: this fic mention’s draco’s abusive household at the end. if you find that this might be triggering content for you, please skip it or do not read this fic. take care of yourself please. fanfic is supposed to be enjoyable! so read with caution! all my love in the world, lex

You had heard of it before. Soulmates. Two souls put on this planet who were destined to find each other and spend their existence together harmoniously. Until death do them part. 

It all sounded very romantic to you. Finding someone who had a soul, a spirit that matched yours. Kindred together. Your parents were soulmates and watching their relationship grow and blossom as you grew up was something you had always wanted. A love that continued to grow no matter the circumstances. A love that would guide you, protect you, care for you, and spend its days with you. A soulmate didn’t sound half bad.

Until you realized what that meant.

In order to know that you had met your soulmate, you would have to experience the same physical pains as them. Meaning everything that hurt them, you in turn felt, even though it wasn’t happening to you. The person could be on the other side of the planet, but the universe would still make you feel the same pains as them. It was an annoyance, for sure, but to you, anything that brought you one step closer to them was enough.

You remember exactly where you were when you first experienced your soulmates pain. You were about the age of eight, in your bedroom, reading on the floor, laying on your belly, kicking your legs about happily. That was before you felt a red, hot stinging sensation on your right cheek. Like someone had just slapped you in the face. Confusion washed all over you before you cried out, “Mum!” like any child would when random waves of pain washed over them with no reason why.

In a flash, your mother was in the doorway of your bedroom, asking what happened. You turned your cheek and pointed to it, telling her that it stung and hurt badly. Your mother’s eyes grew wide and she gasped, walking down to her child and touching the sensitive area. “Did you do this to yourself, sweetheart?” she asked, making sure that she wasn’t getting ahead of herself. Your soulmate couldn’t have possibly started showing signs of pain this young. 

You shook your head and looked up at your mother worried about what was happening to you. “Am I gonna be alright, Mum?” you asked, your eight year old head full of worry and fear. This was scary for anyone, especially a child. 

“Yes, darling, you will be quite alright. When you are a little older, your father and I will explain it all to you,” your mother brushed your cheek gently as you relaxed into her warm, maternal touch. She placed a gentle kiss on your hairline before speaking, “This happens to everyone, dear. I know, it’s confusing and can be scary. But it will end with good things, I swear it.”

And you held onto that promise that your mother told you that day on your bedroom floor. From that day on, you continued to feel random spurts of pain. A pinch in the fleshy part of your arm, a slap upside the head, a gut wrenching pain in the your gut, but most often you felt pain in your chest. Less physical pain, but like someone had just broken your heart. It would go away within seconds, but for those few seconds, it felt like someone had told you the worst news of your life, your heart felt hollow. This continued on and on for years but when you turned eleven things changed.

Two weeks before your eleventh birthday, your mother and father had talked to you about soulmates and how you felt their pain no matter where in the world they were. Even more specifically, your parents had given you warning that you might be meeting your soulmate soon. “What do you mean?” you sat in the dining room chair, dropping your fork at the suggestion of meeting your soulmate at the young, ripe age of eleven. 

Your mother looked at your father who gave her a supportive nod. She took a deep breath in before speaking, “(Y/N), honey, you know that you’ll be going to Hogwarts soon. Kids from all over will be going to school with you. One of those kids could very well be your soulmate. I mean, that’s what happened to me and your father,” she tells you as your father grabs your mother’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Whilst you sat at the dinner table, face blank, your mind was running a thousand miles a minute. You were going to turn eleven and all of a sudden you could be meeting your soulmate? You were a child. You should be focusing on school work, meeting new friends, having fun, enjoying this time of your life before it goes by in the blink of an eye. “But I don’t want to. Not yet,” you protest, tears starting to pool in your eyes. “I want to meet them soon, but not now.”

Rising from his chair, your father rushes to your side, not wanting to see his daughter torn over the news that she could be meeting her soulmate. She was supposed to be happy. “Hey, kiddo, it’s okay,” he wipes away your tear, brushing the hair out of your face, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It doesn’t mean you’re definitely going to meeting them. You might. That’s all. What your mother and I are more worried about is you being safe and having fun. That’s all,” he tells you with a reassuring smile. And in that moment, you calmed down and succumbed to a sniffling mess. “Hogwarts is going to be a blast. You’re going to meet so many new people and have so many new adventures, pumpkin. No need to worry about a silly soulmate.”

Your father’s words soothed you, but that was only temporary. When you arrived at Hogwarts, you were too involved in the thrill of things to pay attention to the small pains you would get from your soulmate. Instead, you let yourself wander away with new friends, discovering new parts of the castle and the grounds. Soon enough, finding your soulmate became the last thing on your mind.

But the years started to go by and a lot of your classmates were discovering that they had soulmates within Hogwarts. Students were putting two and two together, realizing the pains they were feeling were similar if not the same as their soulmates. In fact, most soulmate encounters happened in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey. A student came in complaining about a mysterious pain in their leg and low and behold, there was another student laying in a bed with their leg in a cast. Another match.

It came down to a new soulmate announcement happened every few days. You would groan and roll your eyes at the news, but deep down, you secretly wished that your soulmate would reveal themselves soon. Sure, when you first got to Hogwarts, you didn’t want to meet your soulmate because you wanted to focus on making friends and getting used to life at a new school. But now that you were in your sixth year and everyone was starting to find their soulmate, you felt left out. 

You sat in the library, studying quietly by yourself before someone hurls themself in a chair right next to you. “Quick, pretend like we’re having a conversation,” Ron grabs your arm tight and shakes you. You give him a puzzled look before he speaks, “It’s Lavender again.”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you mindlessly start talking about whatever, pretending to be deep in conversation with Ron. Out of your periphery vision, you see Lavender approach the table, but then stomp her foot in frustration before leaving the area you were in and out of the library. Ron sighs in relief and leans back in the chair as you chuckle. “Why can’t you tell her that you’re not soulmates. Is she still on you about that?” you ask him, crossing your arms across your chest.

Ron groans, “Because she makes shit up! Like in Potions! I had burnt my hand on the flame and it hurt and then she pretended like her hand burned too, but it didn’t!”

You continue to tease Ron. “Oh yeah? How do you know it didn’t actually hurt?”

He leans forward on the table and exclaims, “She’s making it up! Because when we were in class last week, she bumped into Katie Bell and she got a nose bleed. And me? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. We are not soulmates, (Y/N)! She’s bloody out of her mind.” You just sit back and laugh at Ron’s hysterics. You did have to admit though, making up pains just so you can be soulmates with someone who didn’t want to be soulmates with you. That was a little strange. “I’m telling you, we need to find our soulmates soon or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

At the mention of finding your soulmate, your heart speeds up and you gulp. You really didn’t want to talk about your soulmate right now. The thought just made you frustrated. The last sign you had gotten from them was about two weeks ago. A deep pain in your side, like something had smashed into it. 

“Have you felt anything recently? Maybe if you tell me, I’ll know of someone who felt it too,” Ron encourages. “Go on now.”

With a groan, you sit up and prop your head up on your hands as Ron waits for you to tell him. “Two weeks ago I had a crippling pain in my side. In the afternoon. Didn’t fade until an hour later,” you reveal to Ron.

He thinks for a moment and then speaks, “Which side? Where in your side? Like your stomach?”

“My left side by my ribcage. Hurt like a bitch,” you suck in, reminiscing the pain that had you curled over in bed as your roommate sat next to you in your bed, rubbing your back, trying to soothe the pain. But there was no use. 

Ron think again before speaking, “I mean...I know it’s a long shot, but I remember someone saying that during quidditch practice someone was sent to Madam Pomfrey’s for an injury. I don’t remember who, but you could probably ask Madam Pomfrey and see if she remembers.”

You shrug, running your fingers through your hair. “I don’t know if it’s worth it, Ron. What am I going to say? Two weeks ago my side hurt and I don’t know who was injured. Do you know who it was? It might be my soulmate,” you tease Ron who rolls his eyes. “When the time is right, I’ll find them.”

---------------

Another week goes by and it’s another week of no pain. From either you or your soulmate. It was like they were doing everything in their power to prevent themselves from getting hurt. Even a paper cut. Nothing. And it was making you more frustrated then ever, seeing people happily walking in the hallway with their soulmates and yet here you were, soulmate-less and painless walking in the halls by yourself. 

You walk into Potions class with a sigh, not really wanting to be here. You’d rather be hanging out with your friends in the courtyard on this beautiful, warm day rather than being cooped up inside the castle, doing nothing. “You look thrilled to be here,” Cho teases you as you take your usual seat next to her and behind Ron and Harry. “You alright?” she asks as you simply nod, not really feeling like vomiting all your baggage right now. 

Class begins as normal and your assignment was to replicate Girding Potion successfully and quickly. The whole class was at work diligently as you opened vials, reading the ingredients list, dumping them into the cauldron. As you did so, girls around you chit chatted about their soulmates and their pains, taking them as clues as to who it could be. 

The chatter was like a fly in your ear, buzzing around and around and around, driving you towards a meltdown. Sweet Hannah Abbot gushed at how Neville told her that he thought they were soulmates, bringing her two bunches of beautiful, lush flowers. Girls cooed at the story, telling her how lucky she was. Hannah was lucky; having found her soulmate and that being Neville Longbottom, Hogwarts’ sweetheart.

Girls continued to chatter about their soulmate and how close they were to finding them and how excited they were. This only made your blood boil as you angrily tossed things into the cauldron now, fists tightening. “(Y/N), take it easy,” Ron laughs next to you as he watches you angrily toss things into your concoction.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ronald. Is my frustration bothersome? I can’t help it that I’m one of the last people in this school to find their soulmate after relentlessly searching for signs that they’re still alive,” you angrily tear up dragonfly thoraxes, tossing them into the potion as Ron just watches you concerned. “I mean bloody hell, there are fourth years who have found their soulmates and I’m still clueless as if they even go to school here. You’d thing finding one person wouldn’t be so hard, but damn it, Ronald, I’m so exhausted of hearing everyone else’s stories and how happy they are and how in love people are whilst I’m standing here trying to figure out if I still have a soulmate at this point!” you whisper yell at him, growing angrier with every word you utter. “Ugh, whatever I ju-Ow! Fuck!” you hiss as you realize you’ve burnt your hand on the open flame that licks the the cauldron. 

Ron looks at the burn and his eyes widen. “Not again,” he huffs, having been through this before. “Come here, we’ll have to run it under ice water to stop the stinging,” Ron tells you, grabbing an empty cauldron. “Aguamenti,” he casts on the cauldron, filling it up with cold water as you submerge it fully, the stinging sensation subsiding. “Professor Slughorn! (Y/N) seems to have burnt her hand,” Ron calls over Slughorn who is attentive at another work table.

Slughorn turns around and lightly chuckles, “You too, Miss (Y/L/N)? Mr. Malfoy seems to have also burnt his hand. One moment and I’ll be right with you to take a look at the burns.”

Your eyes widen and your heart sinks for a moment. “O-Okay,” you stutter before you turn to Ron who looks at you in disbelief. Draco Malfoy? No. Absolutely not. No way. Not a chance. “It’s a coincidence,” you tell Ron with a shake of your head in disbelief. “Everyone burns their hand in Potions. It happens all the time,” you try to convince yourself as you focus on your hand in the cold water, watching it clench and flex underneath the surface. 

Ron opens up his mouth in protest, but you give him a look as if to say don’t you dare try to rationalize this. Ron sighs. “Whatever you say. It’s your soulmate,” he shrugs with a little smile. 

“Shut up, Ronald, or I’ll tell Lavender,” you warn him and he instantly shuts up.

The thought of Draco Malfoy being the person the universe chose to be your soulmate made you feel physically ill. Draco was nothing you wanted in a soulmate. He was cruel and vindictive and ill-mannered and vicious. He had no care for anyone except if it benefit him in some form. How could you manage to care for someone with a character like that? 

You glanced over at Draco who watched as Professor Slughorn wrapped his badly burned handle in cream colored gauze. The motion of him wrapping the gauze around his hand was almost hypnotizing as you watched it go round and round, your eyes trailing up to Draco’s face. His face was relaxed, but his jaw was clenched and tense, accentuating his bone structure of his face. Slowly, his head turned to face yours, his cold blue eyes meeting yours as you gulped. When he looked at you, your heart thumped against your chest like a drum. Shaking it off, you look back down at your hand, but you can still feel Draco’s eyes on you. 

“If he’s my soulmate, I don’t know what I’ll do,” you whisper down, not daring to make eye contact with Ron. 

------------

Another week passed and their was radio silence from your soulmate. Nothing. However, you were kind of glad there was nothing after what happened in Potions class. You wouldn’t let yourself entertain the thought that Draco Malfoy could be your soulmate in some timeline. The more you thought about it, the sicker it made you feel. 

When you passed him in the hall, you refused to look in his direction and him you. The both of you knew what the other way thinking, but wouldn’t dare confront the other about it. It was far too risky to play that game. No need to talk about something if neither one of you wanted it to be true. 

You found yourself hanging out in the courtyard, messing around with a few of your friends as you sat on the grass, absorbing the brilliant spring sun. People chattered amongst themselves, delighted to be surrounded with their friends. As you leaned up against the tree, you chat lightly to Ron, watching other people toss around a ball, others lay around in the grass, some reading books. “Lavender finally off your back?” you ask Ron, giving him a nudge with a smile. 

Ron rolls his eyes, “Bloody finally. It only took forever.” You chuckle before resting your head on his shoulder. “Anything from you? We haven’t talked about it since....you know...” he trails off, not daring to say his name like it was You-Know-Who.

But he was always around. There was no escaping him. There he was, standing in the courtyard, surrounded by his little bitch boy posse as you sneered, “No. And I’m not even entertaining the thought that it’s him. He’s horrid.” 

Ron chuckled lightly, giving your arm a squeeze. “Alright, let’s get your mind off of him. Did you do the DaDa homework? Because I certainly did not and Hermione told me she won’t let me use hers again ‘cause I used hers last week.”

The two of you keep chatting for a little while until you feel a sharp pain in your left side, like the one you had all those weeks ago. “Ah,” you wince in pain as you hands meet you left side, clutching it in pain, writhing. “Not again.”

Ron turns and faces you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You alright? What do you mean not again?” he asks, searching your eyes for some clarity. “You need a medic? Someone? Hannah? Come over here!” Ron calls out to Hannah Abbot who lays on the ground, head in Neville’s lap. She shoots straight up to meet you at your side, asking you what the problem was.

“It’s fine. This happened a few weeks ago. You can ask my roommate about it. I think it’s my soulmate actually. They hurt themselves badly and it seems like, ah shit, they’ve done it again,” you seethe in pain as you clutch onto your side, electricity shooting up and down your sides. 

Hannah looks at you and grabs your shoulders, trying to get you to stop contorting your body. “Don’t move, it’ll only make the pain worse, alright?” she tells you. “The pain should subside if it’s only your soulmate’s pain and not yours directly. That being said, you have any clue who your soulmate is? Are they at Hogwarts? ‘Cause if they are here, we can get them help which will ultimately help you,” Hannah explains.

And that’s when the moment you dreaded finally came. You gulp, your chest heaving up and down from the pain as you look up through your eyelashes to look across the courtyard. And low and below, there he was. Clutching onto his side, wincing in pain as he threw an arm over Blaise Zabini’s shoulder, using him as a crutch. 

From the distance, you hear him speak, “I’m fine. Honestly. I think I reopened whatever injury I got from that quidditch practice a few weeks ago. I’m alright, Blaise, honestly, no need to fuckin’ baby me.” Draco untangles himself from Blaise as brushes off his shirt while still wincing lightly at the pain.

Your heart sinks into your feet and all of a sudden you feel lightheaded. So the day in Potions class was real. Draco didn’t coincidentally burn his hand too. He felt your burn because you were soulmates. You felt his rib injury because you were soulmates. Draco Malfoy was destined to be yours. 

“I’ve got to go. Now,” you try and scramble to your feet, pushing through the burning pain up and down your ribcage, ignoring Ron and Hannah’s protests that you needed to take it easy. “The pain is gone. I’m fine. I need to go,” you simply call out, walking away from the group in the courtyard.

You were on a mission now and you were going to put an end to this. Once and for all. Without further hesitation, you grab your bag and start marching over to the other side of the courtyard to where Draco was. As you do so, he notices you approaching and starts to leave the courtyard, trying to prevent you and him having some sort of interaction. “God Godric, really, Malfoy?” you huff out to yourself, knowing that if this was the way he was reacting to the news, the future didn’t look too bright.

Draco starts to march through the corridors as you are quick on his heels, chasing him like a predator chases its prey in the wild. Draco turns to see if you are still on his toes and much to his dismay, you are right behind him. “Malfoy, would you stop running away from me? We need to have a conversation!”

He scoffs, “No, you want to have a conversation. I would like to go back to the common room and take a load off.”

You groan out in frustration before taking up a light jog and grabbing a hold of his wrist, pulling him into an empty classroom. Before he can squirm away, you shut the door and put your back against it, preventing him from going anywhere. 

The two of you just stand there, glaring at each other, both gravely disappointed with the reality that just slapped you both in the face. No one says anything for a moment. You two are just breathing, heavy and hot in the room, a few feet separating the two of you. Neither one of you dared to take a step closer to the other. 

“What’s the problem, (Y/L/N)?” Draco tucks his hands into his pockets, playing the fool. Pretending he isn’t bothered by this information that your souls were made for each other. He was trying to play it cool whilst inside his mind was screaming and shouting, how could this have happened? Someone like you with someone like him. The universe had to have made a mistake.

Oh, Malfoy, you fool. The universe doesn’t make mistakes.

Your chest is still heaving up and down as you speak, “We’re soulmates, Draco.”

He shakes his head, “Sure. Whatever that means. Congratulations, we did it. Go us. Now can you kindly move your arse out of the way so I can go relax in peace?”

“No!” you exclaim, firmly planted at the door, glaring at him. “Listen, I’m just as unhappy as you are with this outcome!” you reveal as Draco gulps with a scowl on his face. “But the universe chose us as soulmates for some reason and I’m going to listen to the universe. We both can’t ignore it anymore.” 

Draco looks away from you, refusing to look you in the eyes. For some reason, looking at you in the eyes was too much for him. It felt like you were looking into his soul, you knew all of his secrets with just a gaze into those iceberg eyes of his. 

“That day in Potions, you didn’t burn your hand...” you gently coax him. “That was my burn that you felt.”

“So what! We both burned our hands in Potions! That doesn’t make us any more or less soulmates!” he explodes in fury.

His sudden change in demeanor makes you change tactics. You knew that this conversation would be hard to have with Draco, but not like this. You didn’t think he would succumb to acting like a child at this news. Finding your soulmate should be something to celebrate, to rejoice about, but instead it was an uphill battle. But one you intended to win.

“Alright then, you want to ignore Potions. Fine! What about your rib cage? Four weeks ago, I was writhing in pain on my bed one afternoon for hours from the pain. Ron told me that a quidditch player got injured during timed trials. He didn’t know who. So, today, I feel the same pain in my side in the courtyard, just to look up at see you writhing in pain in your side. You were the quidditch player, Draco. And don’t you dare lie to me and say it was someone else. Because we both know damn well that neither of us deserve to be lied to again!” you exclaim, hot tears now brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill out. 

Draco hears the emotion in your voice and watches your soft face crack to reveal a truly sad person. His eyes soften and he gulps, feeling horribly guilty. But he doesn’t let you know it. 

“When I was younger,” you sniffle, “I always wanted to meet my soulmate. I felt so badly for them because I always felt their pain. And my soulmate was always hurting. In his body, yes, but in his heart,” you try to reason with him. “I told my mum and dad that when I met my soulmate I would give them a hug because I didn’t want them to feel anymore pain. I wanted them to feel loved.” Your eyes search Draco’s for some glimmer of hope. You weren’t expecting a proclamation of love or realization. You were looking for hope. “We were destined for each other.”

Draco takes a deep breath in before speaking, “We may be destined for each other, (Y/N). But I don’t think we can ever love each other.”

His words leave you blank. That was the best way to describe the way you felt. You weren’t surprised he would say that, but you were shocked that he had actually done it. His sad smile means nothing to you; in fact, it feels like he just twisted the knife that was in your gut.

He manages to slip out of the classroom, leaving you there, numb and blank.

--------------

You didn’t sleep that night. It was nearly impossible to sleep. The scene just kept playing on and on and on in your head until it became a broken movie reel. Your mind screamed to close your eyes and sleep, but your memories manifested themselves into a sick nightmare as you jolted awake, heart pounding. 

Your roommates were still fast asleep as you peaked a look at your clock. 2:22am. Angel number now? Great. Well, where were you hours ago? 

Slowly, you toss your legs over the side of the bed and grab a sweatshirt and slippers, pulling the cozy material closer to your chilly body. Quietly, you descend the steps of your dormitory and away into the castle to go for a midnight stroll, hoping that you would be caught by the Head Boy or Girl or any other prefect that roamed the halls patrolling them from midnight stragglers. 

The halls of Hogwarts were quiet. But not in a scary way. In a comforting way. The pictures on the walls slept gently, small snores coming from a few pictures making a small smile draw its way onto your lips as you shuffles the halls. The air was cool and crisp as you breathed it in, the sensation cooling your lungs as you sighed. This was much needed after a day like today.

As you stroll further through the castle, you come across the courtyard again and you gulp. The scene plays over and over in your head. “We may be destined for each other, (Y/N). But I don’t think we can ever love each other.” His words were a sick mantra in your mind. How could you possibly spend the rest of your life with someone who didn’t even want to put in an ounce of effort? You were supposed to be loved. Give love. Get love. But instead, you ended up with a shattered daydream of what things could have been. 

You peel your eyes away from the courtyard and to the corridor where on the edge of the wall sits who you wanted to see least of all right now. Your heart stops at the sight of his white blonde hair, sloppily slicked back. His eyes were dark and tired. He couldn’t sleep either. 

Maybe you could slip away without him knowing you were even there. Maybe if you turned around you coul-

“My father was ruthless to me as a child,” Draco speaks up without looking at you. You stop in your tracks and listen. Slowly, he turns to face you and gives you a sad smile. “Still is, to an extent. Not as physically ruthless, but...you get the idea,” he confesses as you sigh and walk over to him, taking a seat beside him on the cold brick, leaning your back against the wall.

Draco gulps and settles before continuing on. “I was always worried. That whenever he would make me feel hurt, my soulmate would feel it. My mother tried to tell me that they would be just fine, but I knew....I knew that she was lying to protect me. Protect me from whatever it was,” he trails off, becoming quiet. In the dark, you couldn’t really tell, but you knew he was softly crying, tears falling down from the pools of blue in his eyes. “I’m so sorry that you had to feel what I felt growing up...he’s a monster. My own father...”

You scoot over closer to Draco and shake your head. None of this was his fault. “Draco, you don’t need to apologize to me. Your father is despicable and you are not him,” you tell him as Draco wipes his tears before you could see them. He didn’t want to cry in front of you yet. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that all those years.”

He shakes his head, “You know, for years, I tried to convince myself that I didn’t have a soulmate,” he lightly laughs. “That way, I only had to protect myself. It was selfish of me. But...obviously, that didn’t work out. I would feel your pain too. I remember one day in third year, something had happened to you. You were running and you fell and you broke your arm. I remember yelling out in pain in the common room and Goyle looked at me like I had ten heads,” he laughs as you joined him, smiling at the memory. He was right. You were running with Ron when you had tripped and fallen in Hogsmeade and broke your right arm. “I remember you came back with a bright orange cast and everyone signed it in Divinations class. You told everyone Madam Pomfrey said you didn’t need a cast because of the Healing Potion, but you insisted on getting one because you had one when you were eight. I remember I thought you looked cute smiling and giggling as people wrote their get wells on your broken arm.”

The smile that appears on your face is wide as your heart gently flutters as he remembered all the tiny details of when you broke your arm. Draco knew for so long that you were soulmates and yet, you were so dead clueless. 

“I didn’t want to tell you that we were soulmates because I didn’t want you to be disappointed,” Draco confesses. “I guess I’m a bit too late on that one, eh?”

You shake your head and sigh, “No, Draco. I mean, do I think you’re a down right dickhead? Absolutely.” He laughs. “But I don’t think it’s too late for you to start trying to act differently. If you can remember me breaking my arm in third year and remember what color the bloody cast was...I think you can work on being a better person. Not for me. But for you.”

Draco inhales deeply before shaking his head, exhaling. “I want to be better. For me, but I want to be what you deserve. If we’re going to...do this, I want to do it right. And if, by some fucked up reason,” he laughs as you chuckle, “it doesn’t work, then at least we know that we tried.”

You feel his hand grab yours as he intertwines his fingers with yours. You look down at his hands and smile, giving it a soft squeeze, assuring him that his proposal sounded like a plan. You were going to give this a go.

If the universe believed in you and Draco, why shouldn’t you?

“That’s all I can ask for,” you whispered gently.

“And I promise I’m going to do more than you ask for. I swear on my life.”

------

taglist: @lumos-barnes @kerie-prince @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @another-lonely-heart-blog @starlightweasley @shilohpug​

[bruhlsbees]

paradox burning ; 1/5 || ernst schmidt x fem!reader

summary: after the fight between volkov and schmidt, you comfort schmidt in his quarters

pairing: ernst schmidt x fem!reader

warnings: over the clothes touching

word count: 4,666

taglist: @itsametaphorbriansblog

a/n: if you haven't read the preview i would suggest reading that first to understand the vibe of their relationship better!! chapter two will be up tonight!! just wanted to get this out as i've been lacking content these past few days since i've been celebrating my birthday. hope you enjoy and as always if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

“TAD throttle control, 8636. Line secure.”

Mother Mary be with us...be with Mama and Papa and sissy and Joe.

“Accelerator system status?”

Father give us the strength today, for we have dove into the depths of space to restore humanity as we know it.

“It’s holding for pre-ignition.”

Look after everyone down below on Earth - for times are dark and the sun does not appear to be rising anymore.

“Shepard team, you are go for countdown.”

I pray that you forgive all of our sins, Father, as we have learned our lessons and strive to move forward in honoring thy.

“We’ve all got our fingers crossed here at Mission Control. Let’s make this first one count.”

And help guide us through these troubling times and help everyone remember why we are up here.

“Status boosters?”

Is this Hell, Father?

“Go.”

Have you damned us all to Hell?

“The GNC?”

To pay for our sins?

“Go.”

Tell me, Father...

“Power up.”

Are we damned?

“Commander, Shepard team standing by for your go.”

Perhaps we are and this is where are days will end.

“On my count…”

Among strangers and empty.

“Three…”

Away from family...

“Two…”

Away from friends…

“One…”

Alone in our own thoughts.

“Mark.”

God, help us all.

TWO YEARS LATER

You awoke with a start. Gasping for air as you tugged at your tank top, as if the thin material was suffocating you. Not giving yourself time to process what had happened, you threw your legs out from under the warm covers and let the cool air hit your bare legs, your elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands, catching your breath.

This was the second week in a row now that you’ve woken up from a nightmare. Drenched in sweat and tears spilling from your eyes. It was always a reimagine of the previous one. If you dreamt of your father dying one night, the next it would be your mother. This night, it was your own life that you dreamt slipping away. Your finger pads swiped away the tears that fell down your cheeks before sliding onto the cool flooring, clasping your hands together to begin and pray.

“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit…” You began, crossing yourself as you settled on your knees, eyes closed and hands squeezed together tight. “Heavenly Father I ask that you watch over Mama and Papa...sissy and Joesph, and all those back home,” You cleared your throat, choking down the tears as you continued on once more. “We have been onboard for over two years and I miss everyone dearly. I hope to speak with them soon as Joesph is teaching Mama and Papa how to use video call.”

Even with all the photos that you had around your room, all the videos that you had programmed in to watch whenever you pleased, you were beginning to forget simple things - like how they smelled, the warmth of their hugs, and how they always tried to pawn your younger siblings onto you. You were always so mad babysitting them, losing out on time with your friends, but now...now you wished that you had the chance to babysit them, to be with them once again.

“Father, I ask that you forgive me for my sins, guide us through this mission, and take us home. All of us. Let this mission go well, and we can save Earth. Amen.”

You crossed yourself a final time, bringing your cross necklace from your chest where it sat and to your lips, kissing the gold piece of jewelry before standing up from the floor.

This was an everyday routine for you. Waking up, saying your morning prayer, taking a shower, and being down for breakfast by 08:00. It was early, you knew that, but you enjoyed having the calmer moments before everyone else woke up.

When you entered the bathroom, you went straight to the shower, turning the handle to let the warm water spute out. You were tired, swaying gently in your stance as your eyes grew heavy. The sudden spitting of water struggling to get out woke up, making you jump as you watched the water pressure went from weak to strong.

You pushed down your shorts from that night, pulling your tank top above you, and stepped out of your shorts, dropping the tank top on the floor before stepping into the shower. You were pleasantly greeted by the hot water, sighing as it hit your back and began easing the tension in your muscles.

Morning showers for you were always dangerous - either it could go very well and you’d be out in minutes, or it could go bad and you’d end up falling asleep leaning against the wall. On this particular morning, after dreaming of your own death, you did not wish to fall asleep again, scared of what could come from your slumber. You quickly washed yourself off, massaging your scalp as you washed your hair before taking the toothbrush you kept in the shower, opening up the tube of toothpaste, and began brushing your teeth.

It was such a mundane routine - almost finding it boring the longer you were onboard. Perhaps it was your schedule that was down to the second of when you did things. You never were one to be so particular about your schedule, having one so precise, but after a year of pure chaos on board, a mundane routine is what kept your little sanity still hanging.

When you were finally ready for the day and changed into your suit, you slid on your shoes and pulled your hair back into a low bun, tucking some of the loose pieces of hair behind your ear before heading out of your room and down the hall, going towards the common room to join the others for breakfast.

By the time you made it down to the common room, you were only the third to arrive - Mundy and Acosta beating you to it.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up!”

From your spot at the bagel machine, you looked over into the game room where Mundy and Acosta stood playing foosball, Mundy looking all too proud - indicating that he perhaps was winning. On the other hand, Acosta looked tired, almost too tired to be playing a game of foosball so early with Mundy.

Letting out a laugh, you shook your head and turned your attention back to the bagel, sighing once it finished before pulling it out from the machine and placing it on your plate. You truly didn’t understand how half the stuff you consumed was edible, but you supposed it beat other things you’ve seen those in space eat.

Taking a seat in your spot at the table, your back facing Mundy and Acosta, you brought the bagel to your mouth and took a bite, maybe a little bigger than what was more polite, but you didn’t care, you were starving.

It was the Commander who came in next, greeting everyone with a morning as he got his own breakfast before sitting across from you at the other end of the table. When the two of you locked eyes, you nodded, continuing to chew your bagel before looking down, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that you had a shit night.

You were pleased when Commander didn’t seem to notice, glancing occasionally into the lounge room where Mundy and Acosta continued to play foosball, Acosta finally gaining the upper hand on Mundy for once.

One by one the rest of the crew began to show: Volkov, Tam, Schmidt, before eventually Hamilton joined as well. When Schmidt came in, walking beside Tam speaking in Mandarian about what you assumed to be something related to the Shepard power accelerator. As the two sat down with their breakfast, Schmidt looked over your way, his mouth twitching into a smile before his attention fell back to the screen pad in front of him that Tam was holding.

You listened in on their conversation, picking out what you could understand through the technical language the two spoke on. As a medical crewman, you weren’t familiar with all of the technology onboard, only the ones related to the medbay that you primarily worked in. You went to school for medicine, exceeding expectations in your classes, and found yourself working for military hospitals since. It came as a surprise to you when they asked if you’d like to be a part of the Cloverfield station. What business did you have going up in space?

When you told your family about the news, they were proud, no doubt, that their eldest child would be going into space to directly help with the ongoing energy crisis. It was evident how proud they were of you, but also how worried with you going into space. You lived with your parents and younger siblings your entire life, leading up until your departure for the Cloverfield station. Separating from your family was hard, and having them not understand how to work even something as simple as a video call hurt more.

Your sister, Mila, would be sixteen now - learning how to drive and preparing for her final days in school before going into higher education, if that’s what she wanted. Your brother, Joseph, would be twenty-three now, doing who knows what with his young man mind. You hoped he wasn’t getting into trouble, or knocking some girl up...although the idea of having a little niece or nephew to come home to didn’t sound all that bad.

But your parents, how were they doing? They were older, growing slower as the days went on. Were they still making it through all of this? You assumed Papa was still running the family shop downstairs, selling candies to the little children of Lapovo - whatever children were left in Lapovo that is.

Mama though, how was she doing? You couldn’t imagine how worried she was, probably baking her troubles away in the kitchen. You missed waking up to her cooking, smelling the sweetness of baklava and sarma. She always wrote you letters while you were away either at school or on the military base that was outside of Lapovo where you worked. Now that you were in space though, sending letters just didn’t happen.

Perhaps tonight you’d try and see if Joseph was online and able to chat.

Everything had been going peaceful that morning, which you enjoyed after the sleep you poorly had. That is until Volkov finally spoke up.

“Six hundred and ninety-four.”

Looking up from your bagel and to your left where he was at, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as Volkov screwed the water bottle back closed, making his way over to the table to join the rest of you.

“Six hundred and ninety-four days I’ve kept our O2, CO2, N2, hydrogen, water vapor and methane at optimal levels.”

Congrats, what did he want, a fucking cookie?

You watched as Volkov stood on the other side of the table in front of Schmidt, almost directly talking to him. There was always something going on between the two of them, and quite frankly it annoyed the living shit out of you. You felt like a mother some days, scolding Schmidt for clearly egging Volkov on - him and his damn anger issues.

It was no different today, as Volkov began his tangent on whatever it was he was about to lay into you all, Schmidt was sitting across from him, a smirk on his face.

“You know how many pressure leaks we’ve had? Not one. No microbe overgrowth, nothing. You know why?”

“This is a long speech, Volkov.” Schmidt quipped, reacting in you rolling your eyes and pushing your plate forward, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest, wondering where this would be leading to next.

“Because I disinfect the decks every seventy-two hours.” It was Acosta to interrupt Volkov this time, stating that he was actually the ones to disinfect the decks. He was right, you couldn’t remember how many days you spent helping him, on your knees scrubbing at the decks.

It seemed finally everyone was growing annoyed with whatever Volkov was getting at, Commander Kiel finally stepping in and stating that if he had a point he wanted to make, he should make it now.

“There’s one part of this station. One part that is not working. This is interesting, do you know what part that is? The Sheppard Accelerator.” Volkov continued, not seeming to be in any rush to get out what he wanted to say.

In Mandarian, Tam finally intervened, claiming that eight billion were counting on us and asked what his point was. You could agree, what was this all about?

It was then that Volkov stated that he didn’t have a problem with Tam, but with Schmidt - ‘her German boyfriend’. You couldn’t help but snicker at the comment, clearing your throat just as quick, hoping nobody heard. But someone did, and it was Schmidt, giving you a look that screamed ‘you’re not gonna find that as funny later’.

Everything began to really go downhill from there, nobody seemed to be able to get to Volkov and stop him before he said even more that he would regret. Hamilton directed him to go back to his quarters only for him to snap back that she wasn’t his mother. Commander and Mundy even jumped in, trying to calm him down, but nothing worked.

“Two years on this ship, and this man has delivered nothing,” Volkov pushed on. You hadn’t noticed it until then, but Schmidt had moved from the table and was now standing only feet away from Volkov. You felt your heart begin to pound as you watched the two men. Two men with strong anger issues at only breakfast time, something more than just a disagreement on the way to erupt.

“Volkov, enough!” Schmidt snapped, glaring forward at him. “You need to think very carefully about what you’re saying.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and you thought maybe, just maybe Volkov actually shut up for once. But that brief moment of silence was just that, and he was back to speaking, this time more quiet than before.

“We’ve both heard the reports,” Making his way closer to Schmidt, “Germany is preparing for war, Serbia taking alliances with Germany, and everyday that goes by more and more Russians are starving.” The comment made your heart stop for a moment. That was just a rumor, in all of your messages with Joseph, not once had he mentioned going to war alongside Germany to be true.

You didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to cry, but you did. Bringing your fingers to your mouth, you began to bite down at the skin around your nails, chewing away at the flesh until you tasted the iron of your blood. Nobody outwardly spoke badly to you, besides the occasional poorly landed joke from Volkov, but you couldn’t help but feel like an outcast, wondering if people really thought you were what Volkov said you to be.

By now Volkov was in Schmidt’s face, the two men radiating their own heated anger off one another, tension filling the room, making you feel like you did in your nightmare, suffocating. You pulled at the collar of your suit, taking the zipper and unzipping the front enough to get yourself feeling less trapped.

“Maybe you’re not in a hurry to get the Shepard working. Is that it? Are you stalling us to help Germany get the upper hand? What about you? What are you doing in the med bay alone, mixing something up for us to take? To slowly kill us?”

He laughed, he actually laughed when he looked at you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. When Volkov turned back towards Schmidt, it was only half a second before Schmidt’s hand wrapped around Volkov’s throat, pushing him back before sending a punch across his face. Volkov was quick to regain his posture, grabbing at Schmidt’s own throat and shoved him back towards the corner, both men trying to pin one another against the wall.

When the scene unfolded, you stood up in shock, mouth gaped and you took a step to the side to try and do whatever you could to help, but felt someone grab your wrist. Turning, you looked down to see Tam’s hand before looking up at her, watching her shake her head ‘no’ and to just wait. And you did, it took everything in you to stick by her side, but you did wait.

Commander was the one to grab Schmidt, pinning him onto the table with his face squished onto the glass. Mundy, on the other hand, held Volkov in a choke hold, keeping him restrained while the Commander lectured the two men - one of which was still trying to get the last word in.

“Keep your mouth shut, Volkov!” The Commander finally boomed, causing the room to come to a standstill. “We have a job to do.”

The room finally fell silent, both men seeming to be relaxed enough for the Commander to think they were free to be broken from their restraints.

“Now, can you two get along for just one day without us having to pull you off of one another?” Moving back, you watched as Schmidt laid on the table for a moment, almost debating on if he wanted to go at it with Volkov again. He decided against it and finally stood up, fixing his shirt before shooting a glare towards Volkov, knocking past him and out of the common room.

You gave it a moment, smiling over at Tam when you felt her squeeze your hand. You nodded her way, squeezing her hand back before you quietly slipped away, moving down the hall quick to go and find Schmidt.

It took a while for Schmidt to really calm down, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if the Commander didn’t rush the test that you were all supposed to conduct that day. It was bad enough everyone was stressed, but having someone be stressed and pissed off just wouldn’t work. You could almost bet that the reason the outburst that morning even happened in the first place was because of the high tensions on board, especially leading up to the next test.

If this test failed, they only would have enough for three more tests. After that... well, they could kiss humanity goodbye.

It didn’t take long for you to find Schmidt, in his quarters struggling to get his suit on as the zipper seemed to be stuck. He was mumbling something in German and you couldn’t piece together what he was saying other than the occasional ‘fuck him’.

When you stepped inside his quarters, the door shutting behind you, he paused his moments, his hands on his zipper, not wanting to look at you. You took a hesitant step forward, not wanting to be on the other hand of his outburst, before stopping once you were only a foot away from him.

“If you’re here to tell me that I was an idiot, don’t bo-”

“I’m not here to call you anything, Ernst,” His cheeks grew red at the sound of his first name, his gaze glancing up at you, watching as you stared back - only instead of something angry, like he expected, your gaze was more somber, worried even, “I just came to make sure you were okay. Here, let me.”

You gently moved his hands away from the zipper of his suit, taking another step forward to pinch at his suit, tugging the fabric down to help the zipper not get bunched in the fabric. You could feel his ragged breath hit your forehead, his chest heaving as the zipper moved higher until your hand stopped above his heart.

His mouth twitched into a smile, feeling your head fall forward to rest against his chest. You felt his arms wrap around you as he pulled you in tighter for a hug, as if you could get any closer to him. His lips sat on your hairline above your temple, kissing you sweetly.

“You trust me, right?” Schmidt suddenly asked. He could feel you tense up in his arms and he pulled back, his hands resting on your arms, squeezing them, “I just, don’t want you to be wrapped up in the middle of whatever feud Volkov has with me. Tam already gets it enough and I just don’t want you to have that on yo-”

You stopped him with a kiss, smiling into it before pulling away, seeing his own smile on his face.

“I can handle myself, Schmidt...I’m not worried with what Volkov has to say,” You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling him wrap his arms around your waist, “Volkov likes to get a rise out of anyone who gives him the time of day. It’s how he keeps himself busy on board.”

The joke seemed to land well with Schmidt, earning a laugh before you felt him begin to rock you both side to side. “But what’s this about Tam being your girlfriend?” You teased.

You grinned at the sight of him rolling his eyes at you, “You don’t have to be jealous about Tam, you know that she’s-”

“Who said I was jealous?” You asked, a smirk toying on your mouth. The two of you often were fond of teasing one another, poking at one another until the other grew red - then you’d smother the other in kisses to make up for the relentless teasing. “Do I need to be jealous of her? Is that why it takes you so long to come to my room at night, are you seeing her before you see me?”

You had pulled away from him midway, now seated on his cot. He was red in the face and gaping as he tried to intervene, but you kept talking.

“I mean, wow, Tam? I didn’t realize you were the type that liked to be dominated-”

It was your turn to be cut off, giggling when he moved across the room, pinning you down against his bed. You felt your heart begin to race, your own cheeks turning red as his face sat merely inches away from you, his large hand squeezing your wrist down beside your head onto his bed.

“You really like to get under my skin, don’t you?” He asked, squeezing your waist. Behind his glasses, you noticed his pupils were blown, his eyes dark. “Do you like seeing me mad, liebling? Does it get you hot and bothered when you see me wrapping my hand around Volkov’s throat? Do you wish that was you?” You felt his hand moving up your side, groping at you until his hand wrapped lightly around your throat.

His thick German accent, mixed with the sultry tone that was dripping from his tongue, made your stomach flip, the heat between your thighs pulsating. Biting down on your lip, your free hand moved up to grip at the collar of his suit, panting slightly.

“Maybe it does.”

Your simple quip seemed to do it for him. Feeling his body shift slightly, Schmidt hummed in though, his hand moving from your neck and down, pressing into your lower stomach, pawing almost at your body before squeezing his way down to your thighs, pulling one up so he laid in between your legs.

By now you were hot and bothered. Feeling him grab at you, call you the sweet German pet name adored to call you. You felt his breath against your neck, shivering slightly before letting out a sweet moan when his lips pressed against the side of your neck, his teeth nibbling at the sensitive spot he knew of.

But you knew now wasn’t the time. Right now you two needed to be with the other crew members to initiate the next jump. The last thing you needed was for someone to walk in and catch you and Schmidt doing, well - that.

“Schmidt...моја љубав...my love, we need to get back.” You withered your hand from his wrist and to his chest, pushing him back until he was staring down at you, a disappointed frown on his face. You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head at how childish he was acting.

“Oh, Ernst - come now, I’ll make it up to you later.” You leaned forward and pecked the corner of his mouth, rolling out from under him before standing up, smoothing down your suit as you walked to the mirror by his closet, looking at yourself in the mirror as you began fixing your appearance.

It wasn’t that you two were embarrassed of each other, no you two were smitten for one another and it was truly sick. You just knew that given the dire of your work, what everyone expected out of the two of you, flaunting your attraction could be seen as distracting.

But that was just it, you two weren’t even dating. You weren’t sure how it all started, but one day the constant pinning became more - and now a year later you were where you were now. Sneaking off at night to see each other, to lay in bed and hold one another. Once this was all over, you knew that you’d return home, would Schmidt go with you?

By now Schmidt was standing behind you, obviously aware of your state of mind, deep in whatever thoughts you were having. When you caught glances with him through the mirror, you blushed and looked away. At that point, you heard him laugh and move forward to help you fix your hair, smoothing the parts that stuck up and tucking the longer pieces behind your ear.

“You look beautiful as always,” He pecked your cheek and wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace, “Do you want to go out first, or me?” He asked against your ear, letting the silence sink in between you two.

You wanted to suggest why not the both of you just leave together, but you knew now wasn’t the time to let a potential argument break out, especially given how sour his mood already was - and it wasn’t even noon yet.

“Why not you?” You finally said, reaching your hands up to squeeze his, “After all, you need to be down there more than me. Acosta and I are just there for moral support.”

Turning in his embrace, you looked up at him and smiled, leaning into his touch when he held your face, “Yes, well, I’d like to think of you as my good luck charm.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at his comment, “If that were true, we’d be off this ship by now.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Schmidt leaned forward and kissed your temple, “Maybe,” He mumbled against you, kissing you once more before pulling back, beginning to make his way towards the door, “Maybe you’re my good luck charm in the sense of keeping me from really doing something stupid.”

Your mouth twitched at the comment, not into a smile, nor a frown, almost like you winced. Besides Tam, you were probably one of the only people on board that completely trusted Schmidt. His temper left him to be rather difficult to be around at times, but perhaps he was right - maybe you were his soft spot, his good luck charm as he liked to say, because never has his temper ever gotten to you.

But there was still that sinking feeling in your stomach, as he headed out of his room and down the hall to meet with the others, leaving you standing alone in his quarters.

If this test were to fail - would Schmidt truly snap? Would you finally feel his wrath?

[awanderingdeal]

Summer camp AU - Chapter 5 - Remus

Finally an update to this! I found this chapter super hard to write for some reason. I hope you enjoy it!

CW: Food, implications of past toxic family relationships

Fic Rating: T

Please message me if you feel that any content warnings need to be added or the rating is not appropriate.

The characters in this fic belong to @lumosinlove and you should definitely go and check out her fics!

For previous and future chapters please see my masterlist

Remus moved tentatively as he climbed over Sirius, doing his best not to wake the other man. He wasn’t quite sure when Sirius had arrived, a vague memory of a muttered apology sometime during the early hours of morning surfacing, but he’d been asleep and barely registered it. He huffed a laugh at how Sirius had burrowed himself under the sheets, his inky black hair the only thing visible. The bed really wasn’t big enough for the two of them, and as much as Remus loved Sirius, his boyfriend leaked heat like a furnace. Still, soon the campers would be here and the two of them would have to set an example by not sneaking into one another’s accommodation so Remus savoured the company whilst he had it.

The air had already started to hold a damp heat when Remus stepped out, despite the amber hues of sunrise barely having lifted. A sweet breeze gave some welcome relief as he picked up a steady job, his muscles slowly waking to the chirping chorus of birds he couldn’t identify even with their daily meetings. Remus almost missed the flash of red hair hidden behind a tall pine tree, except for the hushed laugh that drags his attention away from a feisty squirrel he’d paused to watch. He rolls his eyes at the couple, an act he acknowledges is highly hypocritical considering the origins of his own relationship. The two kissed again, drawing the owner of the rough laughter into view and Remus startled. He peered closer, confirming his first observation - that was Kasey Winter, but the person he was with was most definitely not Natalie Darcy, Kasey’s girlfriend. Ordinarily, Remus would pretend he hadn’t witnessed anything, writing the situation off as none of his business, only both Kasey and Natalie were good friends of his. He pushed the dilemma to the back of his mind for now and pressed on with his run.

The work day had seemed unusually long, Remus learning the cruel lesson that even the most adored job became tiresome when you wanted to be somewhere else. Placing the final package of dressings in their drawer, Remus ticked the item off his checklist with a flourish. He looked around the nurses station, giving a satisfied nod and a self congratulatory smile; the place was really starting to come together. Now that he was finished for the day, Remus rolled his shoulders, letting himself relax.

Without the distraction of inventories and paperwork, Remus’ mind wandered to thoughts of Sirius. A phone call from a panicked parent needing reassurance the camp could, in fact, accommodate her child’s allergies had lasted long enough to result in him taking a late lunch, so Remus hadn't had a chance to talk to his boyfriend all day. He knew he could find Sirius in the drama studio, his phone having buzzed earlier with a message informing him of the fact Sirius would be there for the entire afternoon, only he didn’t want to alienate him from the other counsellors by spending all their time together. Traipsing back to the cabin to change out of his uniform, Remus shook off the doubt. There was a time for balance, but it wasn’t the day after your boyfriend reunited with their sibling after years apart.

Both Sirius and Heather jumped at Remus’s knock on the heavy wooden doorframe, the pair deep in conversation. “Oh, I believe that is my cue to leave,” Heather smiled, the expression settling something in Remus he hadn’t even realised needed settling.

“Thanks for all your help today, Heather.” Sirius accepted the broom she handed to him. “Both with this,” he continued, gesturing to the room around him, “and for the advice. You should consider a career as a therapist. Trust me, I should know.”

“Here I was antagonising over my future and Mr Sirius Black solved it in one afternoon,” Heather laughed, sticking her tongue out playfully. “It was no problem, way better than sorting out the games’ equipment shed, anyway. I can’t wait to see what your tiny theatre kids do in here.”

“They’re not tiny, they’re middle schoolers.”

“Exactly, middle schoolers. Tiny,” Remus agreed, stepping into the studio. It smelt of polish and other than a pile in the centre of the floor, any evidence of the years worth of dust that had been allowed to gather was gone.

“The key is not to let them know you think that,” Heather winked.

“This isn’t my first year, you know,” Sirius grumbled, his accent thickening the way it always did when he was even mildly inconvenienced, “Get out of here,” he shooed Heather off. “And talk to June! I definitely saw heart eyes this morning.”

“Well then, you need your eyes testing,” Heather retorted, leaving with a raised eyebrow and a peppy wave.

"Bonjour, mon loup,” Sirius sang, gathering Remus in his arms. At 5”11, Remus wasn’t even short, but Sirius could still easily prop his chin on the top of his head, albeit only briefly. A short breath of air left Sirius’ mouth, almost but not quite a laugh, and Remus found his chin being lifted for a kiss. "Come on, let's go and sit by the lake. I'll tell you everything."

Remus schooled his expression into the most innocent he could manage. "I was just going to ask how your day was."

"Sure." Sirius laughed properly now, the both of them stumbling slightly as he tried to nudge Remus' shoulder. "You're practically vibrating. Thought I was supposed to be the intense one?

“Sometimes it’s my turn,” Remus smirked, pointing out a large, flat rock in the distance that seemed like an ideal sitting place. Sirius nodded, letting Remus guide their slight change in trajectory to head towards it. “You know, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. I will always be interested in your life, but if you want this to stay between you and Regulus then I completely understand.”

Sirius flicked his gaze over to Remus briefly, the smile soft on his face. It reminded Remus of when they had still been dancing around one another. Long evening walks where their hands would brush, just barely. Looking back, he didn’t know how they had lasted so long before that almost inevitable kiss. One thunderstorm and two leaking roofs, that was all it had taken in the end. “I know,” Sirius shrugged. Those were the last words he said until they reached the low slab, a once rugged thing that had been smoothed out by a lifetime of exposure. Remus thought there must be something poetic in it, but he was too tired to figure it out.

The quiet lasted long enough for Remus to figure Sirius had changed his mind, playing their hands together as they looked out onto the water.

“They live in California now, they’re here to teach archery and they are non - binary,” Sirius breathed out the sentence, the words blending together and his accent thick, but Remus was practised enough to decipher them.

“California? That’s a long way from Montreal -” Remus toyed with the sleeve of Sirius’ t-shirt. “ - How’d they end up there?”

Sirius' face crumpled a little, quickly gathering himself. “They were staying with a friend of our family’s there, Severus. He always seemed nice, nicer than the rest of their crowd anyway, but it turns out he’s no different to the rest of them. Regulus is trying to get out of there.” A sheepish smile spread over Sirius’ face. “I might have invited him to live with us. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have asked first. They were just so worried and -”

“Hey,” Remus squeezed Sirius's hand. “I’m not going to pretend that a consultation wouldn’t have been nice, but it’s your house -”

“It’s our house,” Sirius frowned.

"The house was bought with your money and I can completely understand and appreciate why you offer a roof over your sibling's head without question."

Sirius played with the necklace, a silver lion, hanging around his throat. Remus lifted his hand to touch its twin, draped around his own neck. "Just like that? Even though I've spent every mention of them detailing how much they had hurt me?"

Turning to face Sirius more surely, Remus gave a comforting smile. "Do you trust them?"

There was a brief pause, but the "yes" that followed was sure and confident.

"That's good enough for me," Remus said. "Shall we go and join everybody for dinner? There's apple pie tonight."

Dinner ended up being the usual ruckus that Remus had become re-accustomed to over the past few days. He loved the way the dining room thrummed with the same energy that radiated throughout meals with his own family. Thomas and James' dares grew more and more ridiculous until Sergei barked at them that he wouldn’t allow them any more BBQ if they did not calm down.

“ -Yeah, so ma Maman had to come and collect me. I think I lasted 5 hours,” Jackson finished his grandiose retelling of his first experience at camp.”

“Nado!” Evgeni set his glass down with a heavy thud. Remus had learned the tall Russian man had the gentlest of spirits, but grace was not an attribute he possessed in large amounts. “Why you go to horse camp if scared of horses?”

“I was 8,” Jackson argued. “I had never seen a horse in real life. It just looked fun.”

Once the rippling laughter dissipated, the conversation evolved into useful hints of tips from those of them that weren’t new on how to handle similar situations with their own campers.

“Hey, Katie,” Remus leaned over Sirius to address the youngest of the Dumais’. She had only arrived yesterday along with her siblings and Sergei’s wife and children, but she’d made herself right at home, squeezing herself between Sirius and Logan, who she had declared her favourite, instead of joining the rest of her family at their table. “Can I steal Sirius please? I need to show him something.”

“It’s time for Katie to go with Anya back to our cabins,” Celeste interrupted. “Viens, ma chérie. Tu peux revenir demain matin.” Katie left with a pout to a round of goodbyes.

“What did you want to show me, mon loup?” Sirius cocked his head curiously.

“Nothing,” Remus admitted sheepishly. “I just wanted to get a good spot under the pavilion before everybody else finishes and comes outside.” Sirius rolled his eyes, letting Remus tug him into a standing position. During camp, the small structure would serve as a meeting point and could fit a dozen or so people in when they were standing, but it was pretty full with Sirius’ 6 foot 3 form sprawled across it, there wasn’t much space for anybody else, and this was Remus’ favourite spot. He could lie under the shelter, a little less exposed to the biting insects that seemed to love him so much and still see everybody on the green around them.

Soon, the space would be filled with eager children, and Remus would be constantly poised to treat the next ailment, but at the moment, he was content to watch this year's counsellors get to know one another better. He was an old hand at this now, however, he could remember the bristling excitement as his first training week had drawn to a close, the knowledge that he was soon to be responsible for people who didn't seem all that much younger than he was, both terrifying and exhilarating.

The sky had been threatening rain for hours now, and it finally fulfilled its promise.

“My hair!” Finn’s screech broke through the chorus of rain. The blonde boy, something in the back of Remus’ brain supplied him with the name Leo, immediately tucked Finn against his side, throwing his jacket over his head. Remus wasn’t sure whether their shaking was as a result of the damp seeping through their clothes or the pair’s laughter.

Remus had always enjoyed people watching, noticing the subtle intricacies of human behaviour when they didn’t realise you were looking, so he caught Leo’s small glance up at Logan just before he put some space between himself and Finn.

Finn wasn’t having any of it though, dragging Leo back to him, attempting to get the small jacket over the top of the both of them.

"Do you see that?" Remus lifted his shoulder, jostling Sirius slightly.

Sirius grunted, the annoying chime of the game he was playing sounding loudly as he progressed to another level. Remus had given up on complaining, and the repetitive nature of swiping candies across the screen seemed to relax Sirius more than it bothered Remus. "See what?"

Leo was standing now, his t-shirt soaked through and his hair plastered against his face in damp strands. Remus couldn't quite work out what he spluttered before walking off with long, quick strides, one last quick look at Logan as he went.

"There's something going on there,' Remus hummed.

"Stop meddling," Sirius laughed.

"I'm not meddling!"

Sirius turned a raised eyebrow on Remus and tucked his phone into the pocket of his jacket before pulling them both down so they lay on their backs. "Listen. I love the sound of the rain."

Remus knew he was being distracted, but the thudding rhythm of heavy droplets against the wooden slats of the rood was incredibly relaxing. Or at least it was until the sheeting downpour didn't stop and they had to dart through it, laughter heaving in their chests to meet the others in the large hall. Celeste sighed, bundling towels into their hands to dry off.

"Nice of you to join us, gentlemen," Dumo said, a guitar propped in his lap. "Take a seat. We were just about to teach our newcomers a few campfire songs. Sans the fire, of course. As two of our most experienced, maybe you could lead?”

“Je te hais,” Sirius grumbled.

Dumo ignored the declaration, and once they were seated he smiled. “Perhaps we will start with Everywhere we go?”

Despite an early reluctance from Sirius the sounds of the song were soon echoing off the walls, the group of counsellors enthusiastically answering Sirius’ calls.

Everywhere we go

Everywhere we go

People always ask us

People always ask us

Who we are

Who we are

And where we come from

And where we come from

So we tell them

So we tell them

We’re the Lions

We’re the Lions

The mighty mighty Lions

The mighty mighty Lions

And if they can’t hear us

And if they can’t hear us

We shout a little louder

We shout a little louder!

Dumo was lenient, taking over leading them through a few more songs himself until he faked a large yawn. “Well, it’s bed time for me. I’ll leave the guitar for anybody who wants to play. And remember, no matter how much we try to teach our campers such fun songs, they’d rather learn whatever routine is popular on Tip Top or whatever that thing is called, so be prepared!”

Logan commandeered the guitar quickly, holding it strong against his thigh and strumming it with a relaxed ease Remus wasn't sure he'd seen in the man before. He played through a few songs, others slowly filtering out as time went by until only a handful of people remained.

“Do my song, please?” Finn asked, eyes wide and pleading.

Logan shook his head, “Not here.”

Finn’s lower lip dropped into a pout and Remus saw the exact moment Logan succumbed to the expression. Remus didn’t blame him at all, Finn’s face bore an eerie resemblance to Bambi and only a monster could deny it.

“Fine.”

The slow chords started and the room quieted as Logan began to sing. It was more romantic than Remus had expected from the younger man.

And you can tell everybody

This is your song

It may be quite simple, but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind

That I put down in the words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world.

Logan and Finn were so invested in one another that Remus wasn’t sure they noticed Leo slipping quietly from the room.

[tomyo]

A Vague Soul Eater Timeline Estimate:

TyI feel confused a lot when I see the characters listed as being 13 since a lot of elements don’t line up. Things like Soul riding a Harley (which are notoriously large and likely hard for a boy at the start of puberty to ride), Tsumugi (canonically 14) calling Maka senpai, and of course, the likelihood that the soul eater characters aren’t the same age. I saw a half finished draft pointing out some of these things but it began to become just a lengthy timeline. So as someone who’s obsessively documented this series for over 10 years, I thought I’d just explain the general time frames in Soul Eater. 

Warning: Long and full of spoilers.

First off, I always pictured the characters to start the series around 15 for various reasons I’ll get into later but in doing some extra fact checking, the wiki even cited Ohkubo saying Soul is 13-15. My viewing of their age is proto Maka and Soul in the pilot chapter look significantly younger than their standard design. While I doubt years passed between the Blair incident and Meeting Tsumugi on the stairs, I view their proto designs as 13 and their standard look as them at 15. Although admittedly there is a lot of information that can be contradictory as we will see.

Black Star is often headcanoned as the youngest but he is actually roughly a year older than Maka. He was brought to DWMA on the day she was born. The wiki says he was one year old but seeing as he was still unable to walk or talk, I’d guess it was closer between 6-10 months. 

Liz supposedly said in chapter 74 that she is two or three years older than BS making her around 17-19 at the beginning. I’m going to estimate low and put her at 17 for reasons. At some point I hope to find the original japanese text to see for myself just to verify if that’s what she said or if it was an embellished translation. Since Tsubaki has a similar figure to her, I would put her at the same age.

Patty is a little confusing. She’s called a Twin gun along with her sister and Japan still uses Onee/imouto even for twins based on who was born first, however Twin seems to more mean matching that literal twins in this use. Patty is probably anywhere between 14-16 but I’m going to stick with 16 because her doppleganger from B.ichi, Mana is 16 (Patty is also a bit taller than Maka which could suggest she is older.)

Death the Kidd has also been confirmed by Ohkubo to be 13-15 (which again I’m gonna place as 15).

So final thoughts before timeline listing, Soul Eater not is one of the most reliable pieces of info on the early Soul Eater timeline. Death City is in a monoseasonal climate which made it hard to identify how much time was passing but Tsumugi’s arrival fills in a LOT of details. She is 14 (a japanese middle schooler), arrives in Spring (Most likely April), Soul is still wearing a Gakuran(Boy’s middle school uniform) ONLY in the first episode (suggesting he was at the end of being middle school aged), Sid is still alive and Medusa is still around at the start but Stein shows up midway through the series, and her series ends on Halloween. I will push back the main kids’ ages back slightly for SEN. To also note, DWMA seems to most commonly take in students middle school aged an above unless there is a unique circumstance in cases like Black Star, PoT, PoF, and Angela. And finally, becoming a Death Weapon is rare and the info of Soul and Maka’s second time collecting 100 souls will suggest the minimum time progression from their first meeting to the Blair incident. 

So without further ado:

At 12/13 years old, Maka and Soul meet and pair up as a Meister Weapon pair. Both regularly wore a gakuran and the same sailor suit as tsumugi. Maka introduces Soul to Black Star who is a childhood friend and both meet his new partner Tsubaki.

Roughly one year before Tsumugi arrives, Spirit and Maka’s Mother (Who we will call Kami; her fan name from a misinterpretation) decide to get divorced. US divorces take about a year to go through and theirs finalized at the start of the first SE arc.

It was likely at this point Maka moved into an apartment with Soul since her mum left and the two seemed to have lived together for a while by SE not.

During the winter, Death offers Liz and Patty to become his weapons. Liz accepts wanting to provide Patty a better life.

Soul and Maka begin to to transition out of their middle school style uniforms as by a japanese standard, they would be considered high school aged now.

Soul Eater Not Starts

Age Estimates(Young-Oldest): SEN trio 14, Maka: 14 3/4, Soul 15, Dtk 15, BS 15.5, Patty 15.5, Liz 17, Tsubaki 17

Tsumugi discovers she is a weapon and moves to Death City in April. She meets her senpai Maka who is in the advanced class and who later gives a demonstration with Soul who is still wearing a Gakuran. Neither seem upset as they would have if they had recently encountered Blair. 

Between April and May, they loose the 100 souls they collected and Blair moves into their apartment. (SEN 4 references SE 4) A few days later, Black Star fights Mifune for the first time (Based on the Anime’s Prologues which better connect the stories).

Late April: Kim and Jackie become a Meister Weapon pair after Jackie learns Kim is a witch; they are possibly younger than the other main cast as they still wear sailor suits in the main series.

Mid-May: Eternal Feather is possessed by Shaula and is nearly killed but Stein stiches her back up. The main SE cast are likely not aware of Stein as Sid is still alive.

October: Shaula kills Sid.

October 31: Shaula attack Death City but SEN Trio kills her. 

Timeline Inconsistency: There is a timeskip at the end of SEN showing DtK, Liz and Patty becoming partners in Spring however they should already be a working team before the other’s remedial lesson. Specifically in the 2008 anime, Black Star and Soul notice someone (DTK) took a high level mission and ask a still alive Sid for information.

Kim and Jackie are moved up to EAT class.

Soul Eater Starts (Post prologues)

Age changes: Maka: 15; BS, Patty: 16. 6 months have elapsed since SEN.

November: Stein reanimates Stein. Soul, Maka, BS, and Tsubaki meet Stein during their remedial test who thereafter becomes their class teacher. BS and Soul attempt to fight DTK who is starting classes at DWMA. 

Maka and Soul fight Crona. Soul gets badly wounded and infected with Black Blood. Medusa who is unknowingly the witch creating black blood watches his progress in secret. While Soul is recovering Dtk and BS find Excalibur.

Winter: Tsubaki defeats her brother giving her a new power that BS needs to train to use leading to Maka wanting to also become stronger for Soul. Medusa briefly battles Eruka who becomes her unwilling servant. She sends Eruka to Free....Free. Maka, Soul, BS, and Tsubaki battle Free and defeat him after Maka and Soul overcome their issues and slightly awaken the black blood. Maka now is also infected with BB.

March: Year end exams more or less. Given the importance of the exam, it matches up with Japan’s placement exams.

Kid fights Crona while suspicion grows on Medusa.

March 31st: Shibusen founders party. Medusa ambushes them with only our 4 meister weapon pairs escaping. Crona is willingly captured after Maka befriends them and Medusa is ‘killed’, but the Kishin is ultimately revived and Stein is infected with Medusa??. Due to some confusing wording, a lot of people including myself mistake Shibusen’s foundation being around xmas. Realizing the actual date is the end of March, the timeline since Nov is a became a little more vague.

Age Changes: Soul, Dtk: 16; Liz Tsubaki; 18; 12mo since SEN; 6mo since SE

April: The death weapons convene in Death City. Crona starts school at DWMA.

Crona joins Maka and Soul on a mission to the Czech Republic where Arachne is reformed after 800 years. Giriko is also there and apparently just kept body stealing his kids for all that time.

Maka comes back temporarily paralyzed and BS fights Mifune a second time while seeking revenge. (We will diverge from the Anime now)

Joe comes to Death City for internal investigation.

A girl is possessed by Medusa. Crona becomes used to DWMA and Dtk puts on a part for them. Midway through the party, they are called on a mission. Kid is conflicted at finding Death’s name alongside the wizard Brew’s and Crona gets a visit from Medusa after leaving the party. Medusa tells Crona to spy and further worsen Stein’s condition. The Wiki points out that it’s May 21st based on a comment by Azusa. 

May 22nd: DtK fails to find the Book of Eibon.

May 23rd: Crona poisins Marie.

June: The 3 meister renaissance is formed.

The battle for Brew Occurs.

Maka finds out Crona is working with Medusa but doesn’t know what to do, Black Star fights Kid, and Justin Law, the shibusen traitor, kills Joe.

Stein and Marie leave to track Joe’s Killer, BS and Tsubaki take a break from shibusen to go to Tsubaki’s home, and Crona leave Death City for good.

Maka, Soul, DtK, Liz, Patty, and Blair fight some of the Kishin’s clown agents in Russia.

Medusa returns and bargains with Shibusen with her child host as hostage and giving the names of witches in Death City, including Kim who runs away to join Arachnaphobia. Arachnaphobia uses a brew tool to manipulate them.

An alliance between Medusa and Shibusen is formed to fight Arachnaphobia.

I want to make the guess that summer has passed and it is August/September by the Baba Yaga fight. 1. Because it seems like enough events have happened that 3months would have passed and 2. this would make the time skip start in spring which fits thematically (new arc, new team, etc).

The battle against Arachne occurs. Kim and Jackie are saved. BS kills Mifune in their final battle. Arachne is killed by Soul and Maka becoming their witch soul to make Soul a death scythe. Medusa transfers herself to her sister’s corpse and flees leaving behind a free Rachel. Death is captured by Noah.

Angela is taken in by Shibusen who plan to try and guide her away from the sway of destruction natural in witches.

 6 month timeskip, the main cast heals, Spartoi is formed, Justin is formally know as the traitor acquitting Stein of the murder, and Soul and Maka recollect 100 kishin souls thus officially turning Soul into a death scythe. 

Spartoi Arc Starts

Time Passed since SEN: 2 years; Since SE: 1year 5 months

Ages: Maka 16 3/4, Soul/DtK 17, BS/Patty 17 1/2, Liz/Tsubaki:19

Maka and Soul train with Kim and Jackie to utilize Maka’s grigori soul properties for flying. At the same time, Gopher, Noah’s devot peon, attacks intending to assassinate Maka. Maka ofc wins. 

Killik is sent to do reconnaissance on Medusa with Liz and Patty in addition to his Shamanic weapons. There he faces off against Medusa’s madness experimentations.

At the same time, BS and Tsubaki’s recon leads them to a memory erased Crona who they battle with. Eruka and Mizune come to retrieve Crona but Eruka is caught by BS in the end.

Also at the same time, Medusa who was overseeing both events through a crystal ball ends up in a three way battle with Justin and Tezca, the South American death scythe.

Maka and Soul who are still at school discuss how Soul has been getting even more partner requests lately. Only Maka seems aware that an underclassmen has been following them as well.

Soul and Maka witness Blair and the Chupa witches make their way to meet with Shinigami-sama about rescuing Kid followed by BS breaking in behind them to show off the captured Eruka.

Spartoi and Blair enter the book intending to save Kid. While I won’t go over it in its entirety, it’s worthwhile to point out that Giriko describes Maka as looking 15 or so (Something the fandom used often as Maka’s age). However, when he also believed she was new henchman, he said she was 7/10 years too young to be working there suggesting he perceives her as younger than she is. 

DtK gets consumed by madness and has a duel with BS. 

Crona starts spreading madness zones in Russia. Maka and Soul journey with Stein, Kim and Jackie but Soul is briefly taken over by madness.

Kid starts pursuing for answers on Eibon.

Crona kills Medusa.

Spartoi is given the order to kill Crona if found. Maka does a soul perception search but instead comes across the kishin on the moon.

Shibusen prepares for the battle on the moon while Maka and Soul continue to look for Crona. Very little time passes during the kid salvage arc and it seems to be summer when preparations are finished. I would presume since an airship was needed to be built, the final battle takes place around August. 

As Kid and the Death Scythes begin the battle on the moon, Spartoi joins Maka in finding Crona in Italy. Maka fails to talk Crona down who then heads to the moon with the intent to consume the Kishin.

Having no interest in killing Crona, the kids somewhat defect from Spartoi and head to the moon to aid in the fight. However, some of the fighters from the moon, including kid, return after struggling in their mission. Kid decides to gather allies with the witches in order to defeat Asura. 

Crona consumes the kishin and battles Maka while stripping her friends and partner. Maka uses Spirit instead and Crona becomes frustrated at being unable to disharmonize the two. Spirit explains their parent/child connection is too strong to be unsynced causes them to freak out and be overtaken by the kishin.

The meister weapon pair trio battles Asura, Kid reaches godhood, Maka and Soul go inside the Kishin to find Crona, work with them, and kill the Kishin as they rip through him. The witches protect the humans from the flood of madness that spills out and a new era of Shibusen/Witch alliance forms.

Chrona deadass infects the world with boob madness.

A funeral for Shinigami-sama is held the following week.

Kid’s coronation occurs where he announces the end to the war between Shibusen and Witches. We know enough time has passed that people became used to the black moon and BS has decently healed despite literally breaking every bone in his body but Marie hasn’t gotten her baby bump yet which comes in during the third month of pregnancy meaning probably only 2 months at most have passed. October makes sense for where the story ends.

Final main 7 ages (vague ideas): 

Maka: 17

Soul: 17.5

Black Star: 18

Tsubaki: 19-20

Death the Kid: 17.5

Liz:19-20

Patty:18

Total time since SEN started: 2.5 years

Total time since post prologue SE: ~2 years

Final thoughts:

Well, that took two long nights to write down. I tried not to give a tedious play by play and only put down the most essential of story details to help give an idea on time passage. It got progressively harder to detail time as sources started to dwindle from the manga timeline. I love the Spartoi arc so at some point I might go through that part again to reexamine some details. Japanese high school is only three years long so the idea of their story starting at Japan’s freshman age and ending around HS graduation seems fitting. One of the things that also occurred to me with the timeline write up was that Justin in concretely 17 when Crona briefly joins Shibusen, giving us someone to contrast against our cast. In this lovely breakdown we can see the growth spurt the main 3 guys go through but if you also look at their artwork in the later chapters, they also share similar slimmed features to Justin’s design. I will say, early on I was surprised how many time frame details I was able to pull out from the material. Soul Eater was always vague with the fine details but clearly some of us managed to pull out a lot from it. 

In terms of the soul collection, the second 100 souls required 2 years to get(1 soul/mission a week). Soul collection would theoretically get easier over time and experience but its hard to figure out with all the variables we saw like a major injury, an attack on the city, and the kishin revival. Then there’s also questioning how long it took Maka and Soul to sync up. While Tsumugi’s case is unusual, it took her 6 months to even partner up (though then they also flawlessly killed a witch sooo). Going by the middle + high school model for Shibusen, Maka’s efficiency and a less big world issues could possibly validate the idea they could get that far in 3 years. Applying that much time for the idea Maka/Soul are 13 would mean they started their partnership at around 9-10 years old which seems unlikely to me. Then again, Justin became a death scythe AT 13 so who knows. 

My last little thought is completely inconsequential but I see Maka as having an end of August birthday. The 23rd game to mind but I didn’t realize that was the switchover date from Leo to Virgo. Based on what google searches say about those signs, it feels fitting imo.

Well, congrats for making it all the way and thanks for hearing out my ramblings!

[oneboxofmatches]

Hi!!! May I request a HP romantic and friendship matchup on both eras? (Preferably male), thanks in advance! 💞

𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗦 + 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘

19, Libra, Neutral Good, enneagram is 4w5, Ravenclaw, and my patronus spirit is swan. Bi Pan Genderfluid girl using pronouns of She/Her or He/Him. A friend of mine told me that I (kinda) look like Marinette from 𝗠𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗟𝗮��𝘆𝗯𝘂𝗴, Musa from 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘅 𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯, and Alexandra Trese from 𝗧𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲 (a Netflix animated series), but the exception is I'm short (5'1.2") plus sized Southeast Asian woman with Spanish descent that has messy/wavy brunette medium hair, chocolate brown eyes, oriental skin and a small beauty mark on the forehead. My sense of fashion is in between emo and boyish plus korean glam.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬

Distant and shy at first cause' I dunno how to initiate a conversation, but a total opposite if I open up---friendly, ambivert, witty, laughing loudly on a daily basis, talkative, awkward, daydreamer (I got embarrassed from knocking at the door even I'm inside the classroom 😂), EXTREMELY clumsy, secretly likes affection, easily overwhelmed, prone to melt over any wholesomeness, flusters on compliments, lightly blushes on cheesy banters, sarcastic person with a lowkey crackhead energy citing meme references, and talented girl who can be your no. 1 supporter and unashamed to be true to myself. In terms of leadership, I only educate and guide than being a prefect (I might take the role seriously), and will lift my group when there's lacking/incompleteness. About doing projects in school, I become too extra and prepared for efforts, but I'll forget the process in the end.

People thought I'm a demure self-effacing woman that looks "idealistic" or "one of a kind," (due to my protective parents, a reason why I've never been in a relationship) but the truth is, I'm eloquent, warm-hearted, willig to help, kind, intelligent, supportive, nice, creative, enthusiastic, determined, tough, competitive, and feisty outside, but a real softie that can be childish and dramatic crybaby filled with doubts, frustrations, and insecurities with fear of failure that pushes off the limits to to please everyone, yet I still managed to be stronger than ever, even it's a slow burn process. I can be intimidating, sassy, and a douchebag if I receive ends. Immature, headstrong, perfectionist, demanding, hesitant, jumpy, very indecisive, overthinker, quick-tempered, sensitive, and anxious (no joke, my nervousness makes me think worse scenario will arrive or I might break a belonging due to my carelessness). Though can be procrastinator and arrogant, I raised as a religious 𝖺𝗇𝖽 diplomatic person, willing to fight what I believe (including my dreams) 𝖺𝗇𝖽 what is right. In addition, I have a habit of staying up late and doing sign of the cross to ease nervousness.

Blunt but the loudest idiotic feeling-brokenhearted and bitter friend in the group who fangirl a lot, swears like sailor, will act like a silent backstabber on people that we loathe, will crack up over your stupid antics before helping, and bring gossips, but a hopeless romantic who tends to banter with sarcasms or pick up lines as an endearment (but gets grumpy if I received sappy or offensive one), still generous and concerned in a subtle way.

𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗘𝗦

My hobbies are singing, drawing, roleplaying, listening to music, chatting/browsing on social media, conceptualizing, writing, and reading some stuffs. 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾 making corniest jokes/puns, 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀, and dancing when nobody's around or walking like a model if I feel so bold (even I'm terrible at both xD).

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Loves kittens, eating a lot, cartoons, watching YouTube videos (mostly pageants, ASMR, edit audios, and mukbangs), also enjoys playing games on my sister's PSP. Sucker for arts, choir, night sky, makeup, fun/deep/dumb conversations, Christianity, documentaries (about saints, real crime stories, and inspirational people), reading interesting stuffs, talking about social issues, and writings, chilling both indoors and outdoors. Beside that, my music taste are like late 90s-2000s songs (mostly rock, pop, and country) sometimes kpop and ppop, chocoholic, and a sweetooth as well.

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Things that I hate are stereotyping, HUGE creepy crawlies (spiders, toads, snakes, and cockroaches), firecracker sounds, being left out, loneliness, heart break, blackout, and judgemental people. One random fact about me is, I 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 vent out EVERYTHING I despise in my entire existence---from bad soap operas to toxicity and worse scenarios in real life, because it's a big deal for me, and I consider forcing me to do what I'm not into and manipulating me as my major pet peeves.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦

In terms of triggers...I only have two which are ta𝖨king about divorce/annullment/separation because I came from a generational broken family and religion/beliefs discrimination, cause' there are reasonings that doesn't makes sense because some are too hypocritical.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗜𝗔

My best assets are smile, eyes, personality, singing voice, artistic skills, writings, intelligence, and oratorical skills...so I can consider myself as a singer, artist, orator, and a top student who's a former active campus ministry member with three roles (choir leader, psalm singer, and reader). Currently an incoming college freshman, learning how to cook and have so many interests, to the point I don't know what I'm into because of my dreams to become a popular Filipino YouTuber, a novelist, and being part of a successful chorale competing internationally...I also consider joining pageants at school too once the pandemic ends, but maybe.

Thank you so, so much for requesting! I had a lot of fun with this one (as you can tell by some of the really long answers lol) and I hope you enjoy!!

In the Golden Trio era, I romantically pair you with…

CEDRIC DIGGORY

One of the most beautiful things about Cedric is that although he may show some introverted tendencies, he still manages to have a natural gift for connecting to others and allowing them to feel comfortable enough to open up. Really, your initial distance and shyness don't last nearly as long towards Cedric as they would with most other people.

Hearing your laughter brings the widest, cheesiest grin to Cedric’s face. Not only does he adore seeing you happy, but he also recognizes that your anxiety, insecurities, and strong emotions can sometimes cloud up your demeanor. Therefore, it brings him comfort knowing that (for the moment) you’re finding joy. He thrives when you thrive!

However, as much as he loves seeing your more energetic and happier self, it goes without saying that he’s the best comfort for when you’re not having the best day.

Cedric is an excellent listener, so he’ll most likely let you talk without interruption for as long as you need before even saying a word. He wants to make sure he truly understands your current state before acting. He may take a few seconds to process everything after you finish speaking, but then he’ll help you tackle whatever problems you’re facing. He’s especially talented at giving words of affirmation.

Cedric’s listening also comes in handy whenever you talk about your interests! He genuinely loves hearing about the things you’re interested in solely for the fact that you’re interested in them. Side note: you can count on him to be at any music performances, pageants, etc. you may have -- this guy is truly your #1 supporter.

Cedric’s a very good student (though I suspect he’s somewhat of a procrastinator himself), so I can also see you two supporting each other through schoolwork and celebrating each other’s successes.

Like you, Cedric has a strong urge to do the right thing. Talking to him about social issues stirs up a need to help, and I could see you two doing volunteer work together in your spare time.

I like to believe one of Cedric’s biggest love languages is quality time. Don’t get me wrong, this guy loves staying involved and busy. But taking a couple hours to be with you in small ways (even if that means just being in the same room while you scroll through social media) gives him a nice balance.

Overall, this kind boy will be there unwaveringly through the bad times and will laugh just as loud as you through the good!

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LUNA LOVEGOOD

You wanna talk about the best conversations, relentless support, and overall the most wholesome friendship you could ask for? Luna’s your girl.

Being unashamed to be true to yourself is one of the biggest reasons why Luna is so drawn to you. While she’s very friendly and insightful towards everyone she meets, it can get a bit repetitive for her to constantly interact with people who try to shelter their unique characteristics from the world. In her mind, these unique characteristics are what make people so fascinating! Why should anyone hide who they are?

Luna’s creativity is endless, and I can see it blending well with yours. Collaborating on a personal project outside of school (ex: novel, blog, etc.) together is definitely something I could see you two doing.

Speaking of creativity, finding creative solutions to everyday problems (both in school and in life) is your specialty as friends.

Admittedly, Luna isn’t usually drawn to louder individuals. However, the complexity behind your personality makes it easier for her to know you are much more than what meets the eye.

Speaking of, Luna has a difficult time standing up for herself -- whether it’s because she doesn’t feel a need to or she just doesn’t recognize the meaning behind certain phrases. She NEEDS a friend like you to stand up for her sometimes, and I know you wouldn’t hesitate!

Ranting to Luna is therapeutic to say the least. While her aloofness at times may make it seem as if she isn’t fully paying attention, that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s actually catching every word, and once you’re done she’ll leave you with a philosophical solution that may seem borderline insane/irrelevant when you first hear it, but it strangely makes sense.

Overall, the lack of judgment from either of you is what draws you together. As a result, you build a unique bond that couldn’t be broken even if either of you wanted it to.

In the Marauders era, I romantically pair you with…

REMUS LUPIN

Let’s be honest, it would take you two so long to ask each other out. You were probably already really close friends, but the insecurities and “what if?” questions from both of you delayed an actual relationship.

When you finally started dating, you were both so relieved. You still share a laugh at how almost nothing changed in the way you interacted with each other.

While with mutual friends, Remus sometimes likes to sit back and just watch you, especially when you get really talkative because this is when you become the most expressive. He has the softest smile when you’re actively cracking jokes, discussing something you’re passionate about, or even calling someone out. Sometimes you may be too distracted to notice, but other times you’ll catch him.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” (While that same soft smile never leaves his face.)

You both hold really high standards for yourself in terms of school, so expect late-night study/work sessions to be your best bet for quality time.

Though the occasional instance of walking through/lying on the grounds becomes a favorite for both of you.

Remus listens when you’re particularly struggling through anxiety or strong emotions, but he has to consciously stop himself from interrupting because he can’t stand how he feels knowing you’re going through a tough time.

All he wants to do is soothe you during these moments. If you’re comfortable, he’ll hold you while speaking to you in a soft voice. Remus, the intellectual that he is, is also your best chance at finding a reasonable solution. So if you're not in the mood for calming words, he's also a great person to turn to for answers.

As for your ambitions, no matter what you choose to pursue, you already know Remus is going to be your biggest source of support every step of the way. He’s more than happy to help in any way he can!

Overall, Remus appreciates you, and he’s always going to make sure you know it.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LILY EVANS

Lily especially connects to you because you manage to be determined, competitive, and intelligent without sacrificing your kindness, which is something she can relate to.

You and Lily are the C.E.O.s of doing the right thing. Neither of you hesitates to back the other up when it comes to confronting someone because you know it’s justified.

As perceptive as Lily is, you never need to tell her when something is bothering you. All it takes is a quick glance before she puts whatever she’s doing on hold to check in with you.

The reverse works as well. Typically, Lily really doesn’t internally struggle too much, and when she does she tries to hide it. You’re one of the only people who can see right through whatever she tries to pull.

The constant banter between you two is unmatched, but you both know it's because you really care about each other.

Overall, you and Lily have each other’s backs through anything, even when the other isn’t actively asking for help.

[venusofthehardsells]

No Rest for the Wicked [Dea ex Machina part one]

John ConstantinexAngel!Reader Summary: You travel to a remote island to put a murderous spirit to rest, but things get complicated when you run into one John Constantine. Warnings: swearing, mentions of mental illness, blood, smoking, ghosts, pining, is slowburn a warning? A/N: My first Constantine fic on tumblr, yay! This was originally written for a challenge aaages ago, but it got away from me and I couldn’t meet the deadline. I had so much fun with this though, Constantine is a great character to write for! There will definitely be more stories about him and this particular angelic reader in the future ♥

I’ve mixed elements from both the Vertigo comics and the NBC TV series, as well as from the general DC Universe, so don’t expect accuracy when it comes to canon. A special thanks to @nellblazer​​ for support and linguistic aid, you’re the best! ♥ Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged ~

Contrary to common belief, there had never actually been any ravens on Raven’s Rock. The tiny, windswept fleck of land in the North Sea had been named a few hundred years ago by a fool of a sailor, who hadn’t been able to tell a raven from a severely lost and consequently very confused Scandinavian pigeon. Said sailor had regrettably also been of some importance in his homeland at the time, meaning no one had bothered to correct the unfortunate mistake for fear of losing a head. Even though everyone who since came upon the island only ever managed to find gulls and puffins and various other seabirds, it had still kept its misleading English name.

The Celts, who by rights had been on the island long before the British, had chosen to play it safe and completely forego the bird names (although it had been suggested several times in later centuries to change it to the Gaelic word for seagull, or even pigeon, as a taunt). Instead, they had most likely looked to the ancient ruins that specked the island, jutting up from the rocks like broken teeth and, all things considered, had endured well beyond memory and history and legend. Or perhaps they had still been reeling from the mad determination that had brought them and their wooden ships so far from home. Whichever the case, they had called the stubborn, little rock Innis Seasmhach, “the steadfast island”.

That was its official name to this day, though most people, especially those who didn’t speak Gaelic (which in all fairness are not very many), still referred to it as Raven’s Rock.

The locals shrugged and simply called it “the island”.

There was only one village on the entire island, whose population on a good day might reach a hundred and thirty people. That usually only happened a few times during summer when the ferries from Stavanger and Aberdeen docked at the same time. The tourists came to see the ruins, buy a souvenir fridge magnet of a raven or a puffin, complain about the frightfully bleak weather and leave again on one of the ferries that departed before evenfall, secretly happy they didn’t have to spend any more time on the island.

On the day you arrived, the population on the isle of Raven’s Rock, was an astounding one hundred and forty four, which was quite unheard of in the middle of October.

What was even more unheard of, however, was the reason for all these untimely appearances.

A night ago, a pair of fishermen had discovered the body of a man in a small, secluded cove on the north side of the island. The body was placed so that it could only be seen from sea, unless one were to venture down a rocky and extremely narrow trail into the cove itself. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone slipping and ending up on the stony beach below. That kind of unfortunate death was of course tragic, but it hardly warranted the wide array of policemen and journalists the death had attracted. No, the reason for the sudden interest was the gruesome way the body had been displayed.

The dead man had been stripped bare and splayed out on the rocks like a cross with his arms stretched away from his torso. His skin was almost completely covered in symbols and writing no one could make sense of, though one expert, when consulted by the mystified and slightly desperate police, vaguely suggested it was possibly a rare pre-Arthurian dialect.

The more macabre specifics had so far been kept out of the press.

One was that the writings on the body had been done in blood, the corpse’s own, and another was that it came from where the head had been crudely severed from the rest of the flesh and spiked close by on a piece of driftwood.

Even hypnotised, the young sergeant who had told you, had looked slightly green when he related the information. You had padded him sympathetically on the shoulder before moving on. He wouldn’t remember revealing the details to you, but the information itself was seared into his mind forever.

His, along with the rest of the islanders’, you mused as you continued from the harbour and on into the village.

The locals called it “town”, but in truth it wasn’t really big enough to warrant that title.

It had one store that sold a little bit of everything depending on the weather, a church, a pub, a repair shop (it wasn’t specified what exactly you could get repaired there) and a public building, functioning as city hall, police station, post office, library and school in one. All the police reinforcements from Aberdeen had been moved into the city hall, seeing as the only two policemen permanently stationed on the island had never handled a murder case before. Meanwhile, the reporters and TV crews covering the case were taking up the pub’s five tiny bedrooms, both B&Bs and every single rental cottage Raven’s Rock could boast (nine in total if you counted the back room in the garage of the repair shop). Because you had left for the airport in a hurry and jumped onto the first plane to Norway, you hadn’t had time to secure a place to sleep on the island. You had pondered it on the ferry, but when it came down to it, you didn’t want to stick around longer than a day. If you worked fast, you could probably be on your way back to the mainland in the morning and wouldn’t need to worry about finding a bed. You had spotted a bench down by the harbour; it would have to do.

Besides, you didn’t have any time to waste as long as the murder case was unsolved. You could still hear Madame Xanadu’s words in your head like some annoying ominous echo.

A restless darkness will carry its evil across the water to be unleashed upon the twice-named rocks. The steadfast land will drink the blood of the laughing magician.

Fate was a menace when you had to deal with it like this, grounded and fumbling through the world with nothing but scraps to guide you. Not like in the old days when you had all of Heaven at your disposal… Being a proper angel had really had its advantages. You scoffed and walked faster. At least this prophecy had been pretty straightforward, which was far from what you were usually given to work with, you thought sourly, folding your arms around yourself against the wind.

A malevolent spirit that should have passed on, but hadn’t was easy enough to figure out; it happened all the time and you could deal with that. The location of the spirit had also been a walk in the park with so many hints to go on.

What really worried you was the second part of Madame Xanadu’s little mystic insight.

The steadfast land will drink the blood of the laughing magician.

Blood drinking was never a good omen in prophecies. It hardly ever meant vampires, usually just death. And the laughing magician, well, that one was always the same. The reason Madame Xanadu had called upon you to restore the balance in this place.

John Constantine.

Whenever one of her foresights indicated that the blonde warlock was walking into something he couldn’t handle himself, she sent you after him or, in this case, ahead to clear his path for him. Most times, he didn’t even know you had been there and you preferred it that way.

Like now.

The last you had heard of John was that he was in the States. Sufficiently far away, you thought. Even if someone had alerted him to the murder on Raven’s Rock, it would be at least another day before he could reach the windswept little island and by then you hoped to be long gone. It was best if you two didn’t meet at all.

You chewed on your lip as you thought of him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him, it was just… easier if you didn’t. The things you did, the jobs you took were simply too dangerous if your focus wasn’t a hundred per cent on the task in front of you. And with John around, your newly mortal heart had a tendency to make your better judgement evaporate.

You passed a phonebox on the main (and only) street that looked as though it had seen better days and a small tourist information office/part time bakery with its doors and windows shut for the night, before you reached the seemingly only building in town with light and, admittedly subdued, noise streaming out of it: the pub. Apart from the city hall, you reckoned it must be the oldest building around, but also by far the one in best repair. The wooden sign above the heavy green door was, unsurprisingly, in the shape of a very sinister looking gull and it swayed in the wind with an ominous creak that made a shiver run down your spine, as if trying to dissuade you from entering.

Well, it wasn’t very likely that you would get any information elsewhere. With determination in your steps, you walked the last few cobbled steps to the door and went inside.

Your eyes quickly scanned the room, the patrons, the energies... and you froze on the threshold.

On a stool by the bar sat the very man you had hoped to avoid. He had taken off his signature trench coat and his back was towards you, but it didn't matter; you would recognise him blindfolded. He was so thoroughly cloaked and shrouded in magical protections of all sorts that the space he occupied was practically a vacuum. It was damn near impossible to locate him by magic, you knew. If one weren't looking directly at him, like you were now, no sixth sense or intricate spell would reveal his whereabouts. But his was a vacuum you had come to know very well. So well in fact, that by now you could pin him down by his apparent lack of magic, rather than by his well-hidden magical signature, and yet, there he was, sitting only half a room away from you with a drink in one hand and one of his ghastly Silk Cuts resting between the fingers of the other. And you hadn't noticed. You hadn't even done a quick scan to see if there were other magical presences on the island when you arrived. Worse, you hadn't cloaked yourself as thoroughly as you normally would have done and your own signature reached him before you could even think to try and prevent it.

From the way he straightened his back and immediately snuffed out the cigarette in an ashtray as if someone had shouted at him to show some care, you could tell he knew you were there. He shifted ever so slightly as if making room for you and you sighed. There was no getting out of this one.

Getting rid of your raincoat, you went over and crawled onto the empty stool next to him.

You were met with that wicked smirk of his that made your heart stutter and stumble in your chest.

"Now, there's a pleasant surprise to brighten this hellhole," he greeted, raising his glass at you. "Must confess, I never guessed I'd be running into you on this godforsaken rock, luv."

"Hello John." You did with a nod, trying to keep your voice even. "Can't say I expected this to be your sort of retreat either."

The warm light in the pub shone in John Constantine's dark eyes and his smirk grew into a grin.

"It's good to see you, luv. I've missed that disapproving pout o' yours. The fact that I never know when I'll see it again makes it so much sweeter."

You rolled your eyes at him, but didn't attempt to hide your burning cheeks. The bastard couldn’t possibly know exactly how brightly your torch for him was burning, but he always acted accordingly.

"So, what are you doing here then? Odd place for playing tourist, innit?"

He leaned on the counter, his hand moving closer to where yours was resting and there was that little, dark gleam of hope in his eyes that always appeared when he looked at you. As if there was somehow some other reasonable purpose you could have to be in a place like this, at a time like this.

You shrugged, biting down a smile.

"I find the climate rather agreeable."

John threw his head back and laughed at that. Even the barkeep, who had overheard your words, snorted. You caught his gaze before he turned back around and ordered a sparkling water.

"Right. And I just happened by to see the sights, eh?"

"Well, what do you think of them then?"

You raised an eyebrow at him and took a sip of the fizzy water the barkeep placed in front of you. John grinned and gave you an obvious once-over. Your dirty boots and high-neck jumper didn't seem to put him off.

"Much improved since this morning. At this rate, I can't wait to see how they'll look in the night."

"Oh, I ought to slap that smirk off your smug face, wizard," you sighed, feeling how your stomach was practically fluttering at his suggestive tone.

"Is that a promise, luv?"

"You're insufferable."

"Aye, that I am, luv, but you keep coming back for more. Must be doing something right, eh?"

You bit your lip and looked down; he suddenly felt too close. And the general level of noise inside the pub from people chattering wasn't as high as you had hoped. It would be easy for others to overhear anything you said. Given the island-wide unrest over the murder, you were sure ears were perked more than usual and you didn't want to draw any attention to yourself, or John. You would have to gather more information some other way.

"I missed you, too," you confessed, staring at the bottles lining the wall behind the bar as if they were all of a sudden exceedingly interesting. "But I... I thought you were helping out a certain green vigilante overseas these days."

John visibly tensed up.

"Who told you that?"

You shrugged, still not looking directly at him. The truth was that he couldn't really hide from you, not even in your current state. If he found out though, you didn't doubt for a second that his heated flirting would be switched for a literal knife in the back before you could even think the word "portal". Well, perhaps not literal, but you had no doubt the outcome would be fatal for you anyway.

"Who told you to come here?," you countered, raising an eyebrow and John scoffed.

"If you must know, I got a call from an old friend. Looks like she's been scrying on her own and this little spit of land kept drawing all her energy. Didn't seem like something I could ignore."

"You should've," you mumbled, taking a large slurp of your water and doing your best to ignore the persistent little spark of envy starting to gnaw away at you at his choice of words. What old friend? It had to be someone he had slept with, it always was with him. Why couldn't you just not care? "Take my advice, John, leave. Go home and lay low. I'll handle this island."

"Is that concern for old Johnny I hear, luv?," he asked with mock-surprise.

"Maybe. Don't let it get to your head, your ego won't be able to fit into that coat of yours."

He chuckled, but the tension was still there and you didn't know how to break it without giving him the truth, or at least something close.

"Your turn, pretty bird. I don't believe in coincidences like this, so tell me. How'd you know to come here?"

Lying to John Constantine was out of the question. As was being honest with him.

You chewed on your lip a bit, weighing your options. It wasn't like him to accept any kind of help unless he was downright desperate and that was still a long way off. If you challenged him though, he was most likely to flee, that much you knew. But you didn't want to get on his bad side unless you had absolutely no other choice.

"Leave," you repeated. "This one's out of your league, John. Let me take care of it, please."

The way your eyes were pleading with him made him frown and you realised you might have shown too much of your hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, luv." His hand was on top of yours on the bar before you could move it. To anyone looking, it seemed like an affectionate gesture, but he was effectively pinning you in place. "Not until you give me a bloody good reason not to give you the same treatment as whatever beast it is we're dealing with on this island."

"Let go of me."

Your voice wasn't very loud, but you knew he could hear you. He answered by pressing down harder on your hand and you winced.

"Why is it so hard for you to believe I just want to keep you safe?," you all but hissed at him, emptying your drink with a sour expression.

"Oh, I trust you just about as far as I can throw you, luv. Every time I see your pretty little face it means there's trouble brewing just around the corner."

"I saved your life in Tennessee. And in Derry," you tried, but his hold didn't loosen. If anything, John was now gripping your hand so hard no blood could possibly flow to your fingers. "I am trying to do your stubborn Scouse arse a bloody favour, why can't you just for once in your damn life listen to me?"

"Tell me your name then and maybe I will."

Fuck. Somehow it always came down to that.

"Xanadu," you snapped through gritted teeth, eyeing John with what you hoped was an appropriate amount of ire. "Xanadu contacted me and told me about this place. Happy? Obviously, she wasn't going to tell you now, was she?"

John withdrew his hand from you as though you'd burned him. It felt about as pleasant as a punch to the teeth, but you tried not to let it show on your face.

"I suppose you're right...," he admitted. "What did she tell you then? Her usual cryptic nonsense I reckon?"

"For someone in your line of work, you're not at all keen on prophecy reading, are you?," you sighed, forcing a bit of humour into your words.

There was no love lost between John Constantine and Madame Xanadu, that much had been clear to you from the beginning. But even though she couldn't stand the sight of him, she believed John was instrumental in keeping the world safe and had begrudgingly agreed to help you protect him when she could.

"Not really my style. I prefer things more tangible, to the point. Besides, I don't need to worry about divination when I have you."

"You rarely do."

"Not by my choice, luv."

Your eyes flickered back to the empty glass in front of you and you had to take a very slow breath to try and steady yourself. His effect on you was too strong for you to be safe around him. Your job required a clear head - for both your sakes.

"A restless darkness will carry its evil across the water to be unleashed upon the twice-named rocks," you recited, steeling your voice as you averted his unspoken question the way you always did. "It wasn't that cryptic at all for once."

He didn't need to hear the other part. You could feel his eyes roaming your face, trying to figure you out, looking for something without fully knowing what. It was at times like these you missed your wings. Keeping secrets in a human body full of emotions and urges and reactions beyond your immediate control was frustrating at best. It was another reason you were better off keeping your distance.

After a while of searching your features, John sighed and gave up.

"Alright. So it's probably some kind of malevolent spirit then, wreaking havoc. Don't see why you're so worried luv, sounds like any other Tuesday to me."

The barkeep was close enough for you to signal for a refill to you both. He grunted something unintelligible, obviously not too keen on all the Brits suddenly hanging out in his pub. You made sure to send him a grateful smile as he filled your glasses, yours with sparkling water, John's with whisky.

"My weeks are all Mondays," you said and raised the glass to your lips; just as you had hoped, John did the same. "Did you get here in time to see the body?"

"Only after they moved it. Wasn't pretty..." He took another swig while staring at the wall with a distant glaze clouding his eyes that told you he wasn't seeing the wall at all. "Pathologist told me the man had been alive when 'is head was severed. The, er... the inscriptions..." John looked just as sickly green as the constable had done and very gently you put your hand on his shoulder. A small gesture of reassurance. "I'm tired," he whispered suddenly. He turned his head to look at you and your heart ached when you realised how glassy his eyes had become. "I am just so bloody tired. Demons, vampires, curses, spirits, the lot. No matter where I go, there're always more and people die, it never stops. Innocent people, good people... I just want a fucking break, but if I don't stop the darkness from spreading, who will?"

His voice was thin and on the verge of breaking entirely. You wanted nothing more than to lean forwards on the stool and put your arms around him, somehow make him know he wasn't alone, but the risk was too great. You were in too deep already.

"Sometimes I wonder whether it's all worth it..."

"Of course it's worth it, John," you said quietly, clenching his shoulder. "We do what we have to so they...," you gestured discreetly towards the patrons, ”they can go on living their lives and not... not know and see the things we do..."

"I know, luv, I know. I just... I want..." The gloom that was always lurking just below the surface of his existence was spilling into his eyes. He was weary to the bone, deep into his very soul. For a moment, you thought he was going to let the tears burst. "I risk my life every day and it's never bloody enough, is it? A man got his head carved off by some wretched spirit who should have been resting in peace. Fuckin’ Hell..."

He rubbed his eyes hard and you decided then what to do. You didn't like it one bit, but seeing John this worn down, well, you liked that even less. It meant you had been sleeping on the job.

As subtly as you could, you put your hand in your pocket and found the tiny zip-bag with a pinch of purple powder in it. It wasn't something you used often and it had never been meant for John, but you couldn't in good conscience let him go after a rogue spirit in his current state. While he emptied his glass again, you drizzled the powder into your hand and braced yourself.

"John, look at me. It's going to be alright. You are John Constantine and without you this world would have ended twelve times in the last decade, maybe more. And right now you are going to save this island, because that is what you do. So get off your sulking arse and stop feeling sorry for yourself. We have a job here. You're going to find that spirit and put it out of its misery before it hurts someone else, got it?"

He huffed, but even so raised his head and managed a small grateful smile at the reprimand.

"Yes. You're right. Thank you, luv. You always know what to say..." His eyes darted to your lips and for half a heartbeat, you did nothing, just sat there and waited for him to lean in the rest of the way and kiss you. It was far from the first time it had happened, but you still felt at war with yourself. There wasn't a single atom left in you anymore that didn't crave his affection. He was drunk and emotional and between the way he looked at you and the way there suddenly seemed to be less and less space separating your bodies, there was no doubt about his intention. It would be so easy just to finally give in and let it happen.

"Don't thank me."

Before he could lean back or ask you what you meant, you blew the purple powder straight into his face.

His eyes widened in shock, but his body immediately began to turn relaxed and pliant.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me...," he mumbled, but his gaze was already unfocused.

"I'm so sorry, John," you whispered, gently guiding his torso onto the bar.

He tried to say something more, but his words were slurred and within a few seconds, he was gone.

You had gotten the sleeping powder from a dealer in New Orleans, who had told you the effects would last at least four hours. They always oversold their stuff, but hopefully John would be out long enough for you to deal with the entire affair if you hurried up and took a few shortcuts. It was a messy solution, but then again, you hadn't planned on him being here. Desperate times and all that.

"He gonna be lying there all night?," the barkeep grumbled with a raised eyebrow at John when you hopped down from your stool. You put on the best smile you could manage under the circumstances and slid 50 quid across the counter.

"He'll come ‘round soon enough. If not, I'll be back for him in a few."

You practically fled the pub before he could ask you any more questions.

The road outside was deserted and you hoped no one was watching as you marched to the lonely phone box you had spotted earlier. It didn't look like anyone had used it in several years, but when you picked up the receiver the dial tone was there alright.

You took out a stained, battered playing card from the depths of one of your pockets (the seven of diamonds) and slid it into the credit card slot. You didn't own a mobile phone and neither did most of your acquaintances, but still you had memorised the few numbers you occasionally needed.

"Hey Chas, it's me," you said when the answering machine finally picked up. "I'm at the island with John and I haven't got much time. I don’t want to get John involved in this so I need to work fast. There's no need to worry, really, I've got it under control, but... just in case something unforeseen happens, uhm... if I don't call back in let's say ten hours, will you let John know where to find my body? He can't track me in his usual ways, so he'll need your help."

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. What you were about to do was risky, maybe even reckless.

"I'm going to the beach where they found the dead man and work my way from there. If... if I don't succeed..." It was as if your throat was suddenly full of gravel. "Chas, please, just make sure John isn't the one to take on that spirit. He is not ready for that." Too late, you held the receiver away from your face while you tried to suppress a sniffle. So much for convincing Chas Chandler that you had things under control. Forcing your voice to even out, you continued. "I have to go. Just help him if I can’t, okay? And don’t worry too much. I’ll probably see you in a couple of days.”

Before you could say anything even more stupid, you hung up and slid your helpful seven of diamonds back into your coat. Handy little thing to have on you.

You left the phone box in the last light of day and made your way down to the beach. It took you twenty minutes to reach the cove and less than one to sneak under the police tape unseen. There were just two constables standing guard at the scene and they only looked when you wanted them to. For an active crime scene, the site was unusually quiet, but you attributed your luck to the dusk that made searching for clues almost impossible.

Of course, that went for you as well, you thought sourly as you carefully stepped around the little plastic numbers the police forensics had put up all over the little stretch of beach. You could make out the bloody piece of driftwood and the large dark spatter running down the stones where the corpse had lain, but nothing smaller than those. Even if the place was rather secluded, you didn’t dare light a torch with the uniforms standing idly guard so close by.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and concentrated.

The place was tingling with dark energy and it became clearer the more you felt around, using your own magic.

A spirit, just like you had anticipated. A lost soul preying on the living for… revenge? Yes, the bloody traces sang with the mad desire for vengeance that so often kept the dead from their rest. 

Bloodshed, the thirst temporarily quenched. Then what?

The movements of the spirit became blurry after that no matter how hard you tried to focus. The leftover energy had been disturbed and mixed with the signatures of all the people who had been to the crime scene since the discovery of the body and it was impossible to make out without assistance, even for someone as experienced as you.

If you couldn’t locate the soul, you couldn’t send it packing. 

Luring it via séance required more people and it was too risky for everyone involved anyway. Without its name, summoning it was out of the question as well.

You groaned when you realised what you had to do.

Making sure for the last time you couldn’t be seen from the line of police tape above you, you took off your backpack and dark raincoat and shoved both of them under the nearest rock. Next, you loosened your boots and sat them next to the backpack, then your thick scarf and woollen jumper. With short, angry movements, you rolled your trousers down and folded them hastily, ripped off your socks and wriggled out of your top.

“You’re so bloody lucky I love you, John,” you mumbled through clenched teeth that were starting to rattle in your skull. With fingers already numb from the cold, you unclasped your bra and slid down your underwear before you could change your mind, and with a deep breath, you stepped into the waves.

Even before you went into the sea, your body had been covered in goosebumps from the chilly October air, but the surfs rising around your legs now made you heave for breath with every step forward. The rocks under your feet were dull compared to the sharpness of the water. When it reached you mid-thigh you had to stop and wait for the pain to subside enough so that you could get further out. You were too close to the beach and the water was still too shallow for your purpose.

A tangle of seaweed drifted past your ankle, or at least you hoped it was just seaweed. It was hard to tell for sure in the dark.

Your submerged muscles were screaming as you forced yourself out until the water reached your ribs. If only that wretched spirit hadn’t chosen the middle of the bleeding autumn to throw its tantrum.

“Sacred Nanuet, your humble servant speaks to you,” you intoned through gritted teeth and held out your hands on either side of you so the gentle waves touched the palms of your hands. “She beseeches you; allow her the honour of sharing in your wisdom. Blessed goddess, lend her your sight and expand her understanding, your humble servant begs of you, great Nanuet…”

The ancient language you muttered your request in felt strange on your tongue as always, but your flattery worked. You could feel the magic start to sing under your hands and so you took a deep breath and lowered yourself completely into the sea.

The stranglehold of the freezing water somehow got pushed into the background of your conscience and within a beat of your heart your mind was alight with images. Through the water, you could see most of the world, but you focused on Raven’s Rock and the little beach behind you. The water had seen it all. From the depths of the ocean, it rolled onto the sand and sneaked its way under the island’s rocks, seeped into the soil and was drunk by the hungry roots of The Green, stretching into the light above ground…

It wasn’t long before you managed to zero in on the exact event you needed. The Sight of Nanuet allowed your mind to access the memory of the watery abyss, which included as good as all water on Earth and not a lot of people mastered navigating it anymore. You had been forced to use a lot of wordly magic since you lost your wings and so had learned to find what you needed relatively easy.

Through the Sight, you saw the murder of the man on the beach, how the spirit severed his head and lapped at the blood before turning away from the scene. It lost some of its shape then, but through the dewy grass above the cove and the moist air, you managed to follow it away from the beach and across the land.

The spirit held its physical form, or at least the overall contours of it, and it made it easier to trail. From what you could tell, it definitely had been human when it had been alive. Poor thing. If only it hadn’t gone and murdered someone, maybe you could have sent it to rest. 

But would you even be there if it hadn’t?

When the spirit finally settled, you had followed it to an old, abandoned stone house with no windows and a door rotting away on the hinges. The place must have been a farm. There were several small outhouses scattered around the main building and indents in the earth marking former animal pens. The roof had been a thatched one, but now it was more moss than straw and what still remained beneath the heavy green patches had long since turned mouldy and dark. A few shards of glass jutted from some of the window frames like crude, predatory teeth waiting to chew up whoever was unfortunate or foolish enough to get close.

You went after the spirit through the remnants of the front door.

A voice in the back of your head told you it was enough, you should get out of the house and the Sight and the water. You had what you needed for now.

But the way the spirit slumped through the dark rooms and up a ramshackle staircase, as if it had done it a hundred times before, as if it belonged there in that house, intrigued you. It didn't match your original theory, the reason you didn't want John involved.

Curiosity piqued, you followed the lonely ghost up the stairs, where it turned left and went into a room with what had been two alcoves in the wall but were now mostly caved in. The room didn't have any windows and it was hard to make out the details, but the flimsy shape of the spirit trudged towards one of the beds and with motions as if the bedding had still been intact, it lay down and pulled the memory of a blanket over itself.

You slowly got closer, unsure of what to do. The visible shape of the ghost was gone now that it was no longer in motion and the general gloom of the empty house made it near impossible for you to see anything clearly. But the person the ghost had been once seemed so at home here. You couldn't feel any hostility from it at all, not even a trace. Only peace, comfort. Quiet.

This had been its home once when it had lived, you were almost certain of it.

But the desolate little stone house, out of the way even for the island's standard, must have stood abandoned for several decades, maybe even a century or two. If the ghost had lived here it was much older than you had initially thought.

Which meant you might have knocked John out for nothing.

Fuck.

You had to find out more and fast, but it was unlikely the memory of the house before your closed eyes would yield anything further. Even if it was dark and late in the evening, you would have to go there physically. The chances of finding something would be higher, and besides, you couldn't stay in the water forever. You were almost human, after all.

The thought had barely crossed your mind before the reflex to breathe kicked in and you could feel the freezing seawater rush down your throat. One inhale was all it took for your lungs to feel heavy as a pair of burning bricks. A fleeting realisation, that drowning was one of the most unpleasant sensations you’d had the misfortune of experiencing since losing your wings, faintly made it to the front of your perception before the back of your head hit the sand on the ocean floor. Then the only thing you could focus on was the pressure of the water and the way your body grew ever more numb…

The room still flickered before your eyes, slowly losing definition as you lost consciousness. Strange, you mused with your last bit of coherence, that an angel from Heaven should die looking up at it from so far below, in the cold embrace of the sea. It wasn't even painful anymore, the water, but oddly comforting, lulling you to rest, holding you tight.

The only regret you had was leaving John…

The last thing you saw before your eyes fell shut was his face above yours and a faint smile moved your lips. How very considerate of your mind to conjure up his image as the last thing you would ever see.

You could feel his arms around you even, fingers digging into your skin, his body pressed down against your own…

“Bloody fucking Hell, let her go!” The words didn’t make sense to you and they sounded so awfully far away. “She isn’t yours, you stupid paegan relic, let go of her! Let go!”

But you were, you were letting go, there was nothing more you could do.

“Christ, luv, which heathen tosspot did you enlist to drown you?! Yam, Ægir? Tiamat? Nanuet? Nanuet, isn’t it?” At the invocation of her name, you could feel the ancient goddess slacken her hold on you, as if in surprise, and you vaguely realised that the embrace you felt didn’t belong to her or the water, but to John. “Oh, you always were a fickle tart. Let go of this servant or so help me God, I, John Constantine, will destroy you and every last shrine still bearing your blasted name! Let her go!”

With a cry you weren’t sure was even coming from you, your face broke the surface of the waves. You violently coughed up seawater and if it weren’t for John’s arms, you would have fallen right back down into the deep. Your head was spinning. The numbness gave way to a cold so freezing you might as well have been rolling in needles. Everything hurt. Your legs felt unsteady, no, your entire body felt as if someone had replaced your bones with straw and your muscles with jelly.

“J-John…,” you coughed, but he shushed you, keeping you close to him in the water.

“I know, luv, it’s a bloody miracle you aren’t dead, you’re welcome for that. Now let’s get you out of the water, yeah?”

He was really there, drenched in the North Sea in the middle of October at what might as well have been the edge of the Earth, just to save you from drowning. His white shirt and black trousers clung to his frame like film and from what you could make out in the light from the moon, he was shuddering from the cold, too. You had never wanted to kiss him so badly before.

“I c-can’t m-m-move,” you got out through teeth rattling painfully in your skull, suddenly all too aware of your proximity and your own state of undress. As much as you wanted to cling to him for warmth, for closeness, the logical part of your muddled brain was screaming at you to keep your distance. That was what you did, wasn’t it?

“‘Course you can’t. How long were you under for, anyway? Completely off your rocker summoning a paegan goddess alone at night in the middle of the bloody ocean! What were you thinking?”

“I-I saw the g-ghost,” you weakly tried stammering through your clattering teeth. “Saw h-how it killed-ungh!”

You let out a groan as John swiftly picked you up and started carrying you towards shore. Your severely tested heart felt as though it might give out entirely. Never had you been reckless enough to let him touch you like this before, to let him hold you, as if you were a lover who would readily indulge in such intimacy. If it weren’t for the fact that you were very likely about to freeze to death, your cheeks would have been on fire. Every inch of your skin would have been scorching.

As it were, you were too cold and too exhausted for your body to produce that kind of heat. Surrendering to the fatigue in your bones, you allowed your head to rest against him and closed your eyes. He could carry you to shore or to Hell on his hands. You weren’t going to argue. For the first time in all your human life, you completely let your guard down.

[elves-n-angels]

How Sebastian Stan Went From Winter Soldier to 'Winter Swoldier'

To keep up with the Chrises, Stan upgraded his diet, training, and worldview. And 2020 is shaping up to be his best year ever.

BY LAUREN LARSON 

DEC 19, 2019

THE COFFEE-SHOP staff is having a silent meltdown. The peppermint tea I ordered was forgotten as soon as Sebastian Stan walked in. He orders a coffee, receives it instantly, and goes to put it down on a table. The lid isn’t fully on, and the coffee spills. It’s almost a “stars are just like us” moment, but then a barista suddenly materializes with a paper towel in his outstretched palm. “It’s wet,” he says eagerly.

Stan, 37, is wearing black shorts, a black T-shirt, midcalf black socks, and a gray hoodie missing its drawstring. He looks very off-duty SoHo, which he is: He’s back home in New York City on furlough from preparations for The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, an extravagant collaboration between Marvel and newborn streaming service Disney+.

He’s also wearing a blue baseball cap, which sits slightly higher on his head than it might on the head of someone with less va-va-voom hair. That hair sent the Internet into a tizzy recently, when a poster for Falcon showed Stan with a short cut. In the past when Stan has played the Winter Soldier (né Bucky Barnes), he’s had shoulder-length hair. Next to his forehead, which is giant—the White Cliffs of Dover of foreheads—the longer style made him look very sinister.

Stan is somewhat less recognizable in street clothes, but women still side-eye him on their way to the bathroom. Maybe they recognize him; maybe he’s just a little too strapping not to be famous.

As Stan talks, he maintains an unsettling deadpan, verging on a glower. “People always ask me if I’m okay,” he says, still glowering. “They’ve said I have ‘serial-killer resting face.’ No matter what I do, I’ve always had dark circles under my eyes that never really go away. Lately there might be a little moisturizer happening here and there, just in case. Preserving a couple years, or whatever.”

The more reserved the actor, the more likely he is to become part of Hollywood mythology. Between Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) and Captain America: Civil War (2016), a rumor circulated that he had gotten too ripped for the arm he’d worn in the earlier film, a wraparound contraption meant to look like a machine prosthetic. Redditors called him “the Winter Swoldier” and “Bulky Barnes.”

Stan laughs when I bring it up and clarifies that he used a new-and-improved arm in each successive film. With the first iteration, he had to apply lube to slide his real arm into what was essentially two rigid metal tubes. “It was like having a massive hammer attached to me,” he says, “but it looked unbelievable in the movie, and it actually informed a lot of my body language.”

Subsequent arms were more mobile, and Stan doesn’t have to lube up to get in there anymore: There’s a sleeve inside the arm for his next appearance as the Winter Soldier. But, he concedes, he did get too big for the arm used in Civil War. “I was so insecure being around these massive fucking guys, so I started lifting really heavy and ate a lot. I remember I showed up, and I was a little bit bigger than I had been in The Winter Soldier. The arm was a bit tight,” he says. “I was losing circulation.”

Stan is not a new arrival in the Marvel universe: He made his superhero debut in 2011, with Captain America: The First Avenger. But recently he’s enjoyed a burgeoning late-term fandom as his roles (and arms) have ballooned. Beyond Marvel, he starred alongside Margot Robbie in 2017’s I, Tonya, as Tonya Harding’s jackass boyfriend. When we meet in October, he’s just returned from shooting the spy film 355 in London, with Jessica Chastain, Penélope Cruz, Lupita Nyong’o, and Diane Kruger. Another insecurity-inspiring roster.

With Stan’s constellation of anxieties—he says he’s “terribly self-aware, to the point of detriment”—he is uniquely suited to stardom in 2020. A decade ago, audiences wanted actors to be pillars of Hollywood hubris, strutting around in latex Marvel suits, muscly and impenetrable. We still want the muscles, but we also want stars to be genuine.

Marvel films can seem at odds with that national craving for authenticity. Steve Rogers, for example, becomes Captain America instantly, in the first ten minutes of The First Avenger: He goes into a machine and emerges fit, huge, and self-actualized. I ask Stan whether that narrative—man gets muscles and immediately earns the admiration and attraction of everyone in his midst—isn’t a dated, unrelatable picture of masculinity.

“When I was watching Steve Rogers,” Stan starts in, “I saw him question his identity, his alliances, the government. ‘Who am I? What is this? What made me come into this is very different than the role I am in now.’ I think it was very timely, in the sense that you could see that character evolve. Then he gives up his shield and is like, ‘I’m out. I’m going to do my own thing.’ He chooses his own life. It’s actually more relatable.”

There’s an obvious metaphor there: Stan is Captain America, and stardom—and the press tours, the scrutiny, and the training that come with it—is his government, always invading his carefully fortified sense of self. As a result, he can appear very reticent in public, offering only occasional glimpses of the unguarded Sebastian Stan. Audiences live for those moments.

Stan is the anti-celebrity in the year of the anti-celebrity.

And his ambient hostility toward questioning is offset by the behavior of his Falcon costar Anthony Mackie. When alone in interviews, Stan can seem deflective and bored, but he gets an enormous kick out of Mackie, who has jumped in to rescue many an interviewer left to writhe on the hook by Stan. He is the Sebastian Stan whisperer, midwife to a charm that can be difficult to coax out.

“When I’m trying hard to find the honest moment, he sort of unlocks me a little bit. We both laugh and we find a way to have a good time,” Stan says. When I tell him that I’m planning to mine Mackie for gossip, he laughs. “Here’s what he’s going to say: ‘He’s way too serious. It’s boring. He slows everything down. It’s always these questions and, like, the stare. Give this kid a Yoo-hoo! Somebody get him a chocolate milk. Good God, put a smile on his face!’ ”

Mackie is the enthusiastic extrovert to Stan’s pensive recluse. Even though I reach him on the phone at 9:00 p.m. after a long day of shooting in Savannah—“I’m already going to bed,” Mackie says in a N’awlins drawl that sounds sleepier than usual—he’s forthcoming about Stan. He describes his costar as a hermit, a chronic Irish-goodbye-er who doesn’t offer much of himself at first. “If the FBI ever needed to get anything out of him, they’d be in very big trouble,” Mackie says. “I don’t know what the male equivalent would be of ‘resting bitch face,’ but Sebastian has nailed that 100 percent.”

His first impression, which lingered for a long time, was that Stan was a very quiet, very reserved actor. They shook hands when they met, but it wasn’t a buddy-com bromance at first sight. It wasn’t until much later, when the two were on a press tour for The Winter Soldier, that they hit it off. Mackie hung out with Stan and a few of his closest friends, and they “unlocked” Stan for Mackie the same way Mackie now unlocks Stan on press tours.

Their chemistry also plays well on set. They share a dedication to their work, and they both come from classical acting backgrounds. (“He went to Juilliard,” Stan says of Mackie. “He can do anything.”) Beyond that, they’re opposites, reining in each other’s moods to a perfect, workable middle. “He calms me down when I’m ready to rage against the machine,” Mackie says. In turn, Mackie bullies Stan into having fun.

Case in point: When they were on a press tour in Beijing, they had one of those endless nights that make press tours seem glamorous. “It just went on and on and on,” Mackie recalls. “We had to do press the next morning, and he’s like, ‘I’m going to bed.’ I’m like, ‘Nope.’ I took his wallet and his cell phone so he couldn’t get into his hotel room. Then, by the time we got to the press, I was fine. He just looked like he’d gotten hit by a car.”

Hollywood has always relished actor partnerships—from Robert Redford and Paul Newman to Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson—but now more than ever, buddying up feels like an imperative. Pairs perform, especially on social media. In November, when Stan and Mackie took over Marvel Studios’ Instagram to announce that they’d begun filming Falcon, fans were as thirsty for their friendship as they were for the show. Their dynamic is the stuff of memes: “[I] want someone to look at me the way Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie look at each other,” one fan tweeted.

I know what that fan meant. When Stan does look at you without suspicion—when, perchance, he laughs at something you say—it’s like winning a battle.

WHEN IT COMES to fitness, Stan has also benefited from the influence of a charismatic spirit guide. He played soccer and basketball at his Rockland County, New York, high school, but he didn’t start running and going to the gym until he was in college at Rutgers University. And he didn’t get really into fitness until 2005, when he was cast in a film titled The Covenant, which Stan calls “really classic.”

Really classic, indeed: The Covenant also stars Chace Crawford, whom Stan would later join on Gossip Girl (another classic), and Taylor Kitsch. Stan plays one of five prep-school boys endowed with supernatural gifts and sick abs.

“I got a call,” Stan says. “And one of the producers said to me, ‘Look, you’re going to have to look like John Travolta in Staying Alive.’ He’s just glistening with muscles. It’s ridiculous. I was like, ‘Oh my God.’ I started to work out with a trainer, but it was my buddy

Taylor Kitsch who got me into it.” With the trainer and Kitsch as his gym shepherds, Stan began exercising in earnest.

Then, in 2013, ahead of The Winter Soldier, Stan teamed up with trainer Don Saladino, who’d also sculpted Ryan Reynolds, John Krasinski, and Liev Schreiber. That same year, Stan starred in a Broadway revival of William Inge’s Picnic, playing a character whose defining trait is his hotness.

“Inge was writing something very important about vanity and how people were perceived in terms of being quote-unquote good-looking, beautiful, or pretty,” Stan said in a Playbill interview in 2013. “In the play, there’s something shameful and dirty about it. Our obsession with beauty has not changed. When we see something that turns us on, we either appreciate it or judge it. It’s so primal. We still dismiss people if they’re pretty; we don’t care how they feel, because they should just be happy looking the way they do. That’s something we were trying to say with this production.” Stan is less philosophical about his Picnic bod these days. “I had to be basically shirtless every night, like eight shows a week,” he says. “I really zoned in on diet, and everything transformed.”

He prefers exercising on an empty stomach, so he generally starts his day with coffee—and a rice cake with some almond butter and honey if he’s feeling depleted. Today he was feeling very depleted, he says, so he had some scrambled eggs with Brussels sprouts and aioli. “I’m not going to tell you the place where I got that,” he adds, unprompted and wary, as though I might start dining there daily in a stalker vigil.

Stan is a proponent of “quality over quantity,” but that doesn’t mean he skimps on his workouts; he just knows that a 20-minute session that catapults his heart rate into the red zone is as effective as an hour of low-intensity bullshit. He runs (“I’m not going to tell you where”) when he’s feeling meditative.

In advance of the Falcon shoot, Stan started lifting weights every morning and knocking out stunt training for the fight scenes. He points out that filming an action movie is a workout in itself: You spend whole days running around and sweating in a heavy suit. “I mean, next to Evans and Hemsworth and all those guys, I feel like I’m 50 miles behind. I don’t think I can get to that size, to be honest,” he says. That aside, Stan feels, in his late 30s, better than ever. “My body right now is probably the best it’s ever been.”

THERE'S A PHOTO of Stan, age 15, on his Instagram. It’s a headshot from Stagedoor Manor, an acting camp that he attended while in high school. He’s recognizable from the brow up—he has the same broad forehead, the same voluminous hair. His arms look pale and soft, like overcooked linguine, and he’s staring down the camera with theater-kid intensity.

Stan lived in Romania until he was eight years old. Shortly after the Romanian revolution, he and his mother moved to Vienna and stayed there for four years before heading to New York in 1995. No, he says, he didn’t have a foreign exchange student’s social cachet in middle school. “Maybe if I was from France or something. But I am Eastern European. We left communism,” he says. “When I came here, I just wanted to be like everybody else.”

I ask Stan which of his mannerisms are typically Romanian. “You’re kind of putting me on the spot to define a whole nation—a guy who hasn’t been there for years,” he says. But he thinks for a second. “For me, based on my mother, the ‘Romanian temperament’ is perseverance—being able to handle more than you think you can. At 27, my mother was working two jobs in a foreign country where she barely spoke the language. There’s a sense of family and perseverance that’s deeply ingrained in the blood.”

Even for someone who has experienced a certain degree of stardom, Marvel fans can be a shock to one’s sense of family. Certain Marvel stars acquiesce to the attention on some level, greeting fans with a Chris Hemsworthian openness to scrutiny. Stan’s boundaries are reflexive and firm, as though his sense of self is always under attack. (Which, to be fair, it may well be: “He’s so reserved,” Mackie says, “but in this day and age that’s a very good quality.”)

Stan is more protective of his personal life than most actors. Celebrities often use social media to dispense calculated chunks of themselves in exchange for privacy. Stan occasionally opens up on Instagram: “Been working with this guy through years of self judgement and mental wars when it comes to fitness and LIFE,” he wrote of Saladino in a caption accompanying a gym selfie. But questions about the people in his orbit ping ineffectually against his poker face.

He attributes this to only-vaguely-alluded-to incidents in which his family and friends were subject to public attention. As a public figure, he has opted into that attention, he explains, but they haven’t. It upset him when they were the targets of scrutiny, particularly when that scrutiny came from his fans. Stan seems to be looking for earnestness in an industry that, on the whole, disdains earnestness. He “tries hard to find the honest moment,” as he himself puts it (much like how he saw a profound statement about “our obsession with beauty” in William Inge’s horny play).

In this, the Marvel universe is an improbably good fit for him. We speak the week after Martin Scorsese said Marvel films “are not cinema,” and Stan is as defensive of the films as he can be without disrespecting Scorsese, one of his heroes. “All I know is that all movies affect people,” he says. “I’ve certainly experienced firsthand many people who have been affected and helped by Marvel movies.”

Captain America fans lean earnest. People have told Stan that Bucky Barnes helped them cope with their PTSD. During Q&A sessions, he’s asked questions like “What would Bucky Barnes’s major be?” and “What happened to Bucky Barnes when he fell from the train?” Stan fields those questions without sarcasm or diversion.

“They think we are these people,” Stan says, again without condescension. He’s content to take questions about Bucky Barnes, especially if it distracts fans from asking questions about Sebastian Stan. “Now we’re much more obsessed with the personality rather than the actor. We take people and swallow them and digest them and chew them up, and then we spit them out the other side. Then we’re done,” he says. “We’ve done that with numerous celebrities—people. I’ve seen people have massive ups and downs and stuff. All I can do is just try to be as honest as I can. And do my job.”

Men's Health Magazine, December 19, 2019.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 2

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Thank you all so much for your thoughts and comments. I enjoy them immensely. I thought this was all going to be from Rowan’s POV, but... I was wrong. CW: Drinking, swearing.

The first Monday after Ashryver Playland opens is always Aelin’s favorite day of the summer. It’s a silly tradition her grandparents started, but it’s been a part of her life as long as she can remember. That very first Monday after the park’s first successful week, the Ashryver Galathinius clan opens up their summer home to the Playland’s staff and families for an all day pool party and barbeque.

Summer has always been Aelin’s favorite season. It means spending three months of pure bliss in her summer home, overlooking the waters of Terrasen from her bedroom balcony. And there’s something about Ashryver’s opening week barbeque that always manages to sets the tone for her summer. Summer doesn’t really begin until the barbeque begins. It’s always marks her first something.

When she was eleven, Aelin met her first real best friend, Dorian – one of the board member’s sons. She’d left the party to hide in the music room, trying to teach herself how to play her favorite Death Cab for Cutie song on the large grand piano, when he wandered in, singing on top of her stumbling melody line with a flawless unbroken tenor. He’d flashed her a giant smile and pushed his floppy dark curls out of his face and sat down on the bench next to her. They’d been best friends ever since. And the firsts only continued from there.

As Aelin finishes drawing a perfect cat eye with her liquid eyeliner she wonders what first awaits her this summer.  

“Aelin, ten minutes til guests.” Her mother, Evalin, walks past her open bedroom door and does a double-take. “Wowww, someone looks especially nice today,” her mom says with a playful gleam in her eye. “Might I ask who you’re dressing up for?” she asks, taking in Aelin’s white eyelet sundress and full face of makeup. “Because I know this certainly isn’t for Dorian. Wisely.”

“I heard that,” Dorian says, bounding up the last few steps and onto the second floor landing. He sees Aelin and grins that very same grin he gave her that first day he spotted her a decade ago and takes off running. Aelin squeals as Dorian hugs her from behind and swings her around, lifting her off her feet.

“Dor, put me down, I just finished doing my hair!” Aelin says, shrugging him off, but she returns his smile fondly, even as he flops down onto her perfectly made bed, making himself comfortable and kicking off his flip flops.

“You do look suspiciously nice, Ace. What’s with the dress and the hair? Aren’t you going to swim?” Dorian asks stretching his arms up and placing them under his head.

Aelin ignores him and goes back to finishing her makeup. She uncaps a crimson red lipstick and leans into the mirror to apply it when –

“You know if you’re actually looking to make out with someone tonight then red lips probably isn’t the right choice.”

Aelin slides her eye to the boy on her bed and then straightens up again, putting the red lipstick away. He does have a point. Dorian bolts upright, eyebrows raised.

“We’re making out with someone tonight? Who?” Dorian asks, poking Aelin’s thigh with one of his toes.

Aelin’s cheeks flush as she remembers the name of the staff member she so thoroughly stalked the other night. So thoroughly, in fact, that she’s actually embarrassed about it. But also, who has a public Facebook profile these days? Rowan Whitethorn, that’s who.

When Aelin realized all she had to do was ask her five year old nephew for the name of the man who rescued him, she was easily able to find the man on the RSVP list for the barbeque. And from there, she sat in front of her computer for hours, soaking in every last detail she could find. Grew up in Wendlyn, went to school at Mistward and majored in computer sciences and graduated four years ago. His interests include photography and fitness and baking (what man enjoys baking and posts pictures of it?).

Aelin is extremely curious as to how he ended up working at Playland. A man with that kind of degree doesn’t usually find himself ripping ticket stubs, but she’s not complaining about it. Aelin really enjoys looking at his face. And his arms. And his back. She’s anxious to talk to him today, which is annoying. Aelin is never anxious around men. She’s fun and flirty and confident, but one look at Rowan had her excess nerves dancing in circles and turning her into kind of a bitch. She’s hoping her second impression is a lot better. Hence, the dress. And the makeup.

“We’re making out with no one.” Aelin shoots a warning glance in Dorian’s direction as she puts on a light pink lip stain.

“You and Chaol didn’t get back together, did you?” Dorian asks, and Aelin cringes.

“Of course not.” She turns to Dorian as she puts on the final touch – her favorite gold hoop earrings. “You don’t think your best friend would have told you if we’d gotten back together?”

“I don’t know, that last break up nearly took us all out, so if we could not repeat that, that’d be great.” Dorian stares at her, willing her to fess up, but Aelin refuses to give him anything in return. It’s way too early to tell Dorian anything.

“All right, then,” he drawls in a silly British accent. “Keep your secrets.”

Aelin sticks out her tongue as her mom calls out from downstairs, “Kids! Party guests are here!”

“Twenty-four-years old, and we’re still fucking kids,” Dorian grumbles as the pair make their way down the grand front staircase. Aelin hops up onto the wooden banister and rides it all the way down to the bottom, shouting “Catch me!” to Dorian as he runs and chases her to the foyer.

Evalin scolds them, but there’s no real bite to it.  Aelin fixes her banister-swept hair and makes her way out to the front stairs where she and her parents will greet all the staff members and their families. Her parents are all about making the Playland employees feel welcomed, and they make a point to learn each and every one of their names. Plus, they’re a stickler for etiquette. Aelin can’t remember a time when she wasn’t on the front steps to welcome party guests as they arrived.

“I’ll meet you out back in… an hour-ish?” Aelin tells Dorian. “Steal me a bottle of pink champagne?”

Dorian bows at the waist. “Yes, your majesty.” He chuckles softly when she flips him off.

Aelin is the last to join her family. Her parents and her brother, for all intents and purposes, Aedion, already perched and ready to welcome the first wave of guests.

An hour later and Aelin’s jaw already hurts from smiling. She’s shaken so many hands and met so many people and made polite conversation with staff members from years past, but there’s still one face that hasn’t shown yet, and Aelin is having a hard time not showing her disappointment. He RSVPed yes, which means he should be here. Not showing up would be very rude. Right?

Aedion shakes out his hands and cracks his neck loudly. “Who’s ready for a drink?”

Aelin is reluctant to leave the front stairs. Leaving the front stairs means they’re finished greeting people at the party, which means that party guests have stopped arriving, and she’s not ready to admit that defeat. She gives one last wistful glance down the long empty driveway before giving in.

“Yeah, I could use a large drink,” Aelin yawns, leaning into her big brother’s shoulder.

“You’re not allowed to be tired,” he says with a laugh, squeezing her arm. “You are a sprightly youth and don’t have a ten-year-old and a five-year-old waking you up every morning at the crack of dawn to fight about watching Cars or Disney Fam Jam.”

Aelin looks up at him. “That’s not a real thing.”

“I assure you, it is.”

“This guy needs a drink,” Aelin says loudly as she and Aedion make their way out to the back patio where the party is really happening, and Aelin relaxes a tiny bit. So what if Rowan isn’t coming and she got all dressed up for nothing? She’ll look extra cute in pictures this year. She’s here with her family on the first real day of summer, and she’s determined to have a good day, regardless.

She takes in the scene around her – everyone seems to be having the best time. Caterers mill around the stone patio, holding out trays of grilled meats and veggies. At the far side of the patio is a long bar with an ample crowd around it. Champagne is being popped and spirits are being poured, and there’s endless bounds of chatter and laughter from all directions. In the middle of it all, the pool is filled with children and adults alike, playing games and doing handstands and lounging on floats.

The edge of the pool fades into the perfect view of the ocean. Aelin takes a deep breath as she watches the waves break against the shore. She listens to the gulls cawing overhead and inhales the salty sea breeze. Despite her small bout of disappointment, Aelin is happy.

Aedion’s two kids squeal for his attention from the pool.

“Dad! Auntie Ae!” Evie calls from the far end of the pool, her usual strawberry blonde ringlets sopping wet around her shoulders. “Watch me dive!”

Evie dives into the side of the pool, her dolphin arms in perfect form as she splashes into the water. She emerges with a giant smile on her freckled face.

“Good job!” Aedion beams. “Okay, drinks, now,” he whispers to Aelin, guiding her toward the bar.

“Where’s your wife?” Aelin asks, looking around for the green eyed brunette, who’s usually hovering around her children.

Aedion points ahead, and sure enough the woman in question stands at the front of the bar, looking insanely glamorous in a black one piece with a sheer leopard kaftan, taking shots of tequila with Aelin’s favorite returning staff member, Elide.

“Lysandra brought our babysitter with us today,” he says with a devious smile and snakes his way through the crowds to wrap his arm around his wife’s waist.

“Aelin, come do shots!” Elide pulls Aelin up to the bar, her outstretched hand helping her weave her way through the throngs of buzzed staff members. “We’re celebrating my promotion!”

“Ellie is officially manager level this summer.” Lysandra and Elide raise their newly filled shot glasses and hand one each to Aelin and Aedion respectively. Aelin hates tequila but loves Elide, so she clinks glasses and downs the alcohol quickly, grabbing a lime and sucking as much of the juice out of it as she can.

She shudders and Aedion punches her in the shoulder playfully. “Lightweight.”

Aelin rolls her eyes and reverts the topic back to Elide. “So, big shot manager. Does this mean you’re spending all your time with Lorcan now?” Aelin raises her eyebrows, knowing about Elide’s not so small crush on the stoic manager. “Long nights, just the two of you, arranging schedules in the soft romantic light of the Playland breakroom?”

Elide covers her face with her hand and screws her eyes shut. “Oh my god! No! No that is not what is happening at all.”

“Your mouth says no, but your blush says – ‘Yes, Lorcan, yes!’” Aelin teases, poking at Elide’s rosy cheeks. Elide slaps Aelin’s hands away.

“I just had three tequila shots, of course my cheeks are red.” Elide’s hands go to her cheeks, covering them as much as she can, trying to will away the warm flush creeping over her face. “You’re a monster, Aelin. That’s not what’s going on with Lorcan,” she hisses.

“What’s going on with me?” Lorcan asks, approaching from out of nowhere with a beer in his hand, and if possible Elide’s blush grows even deeper.

“Nothing!” Elide shouts, exasperated. “I’ll be right back. Be good, Aelin.” She throws Aelin a warning glare as she stalks off, and Lysandra and Aedion bite back their laughter as a bewildered Lorcan muses out loud—

“Did I say something?”

“No,” Aelin says, turning all her attention to Lorcan. “Elide was just saying how excited she is to work as a manager with you.”

Lorcan’s face lights up as he takes a sip of his beer. “Yeah, she’s been a huge help so far. Especially with such a new staff this year.”

“Yeah… a lot of newbies this year.” Aelin pauses, wondering if she should probe Lorcan about Rowan. It wouldn’t do any harm, right? “Anyone giving you any trouble?”

“Nah,” Lorcan shakes his head and pushes a long piece of hair behind his hair. “But you know me. I like them to think they’re all giving me trouble, so they act accordingly.” He snorts, amused with his own management technique. “There’s one new guy who is so jumpy around me. I love it.”

“You’re evil,” Aelin laughs.

“I prefer diabolical,” Lorcan replies. “Ah, and it looks like he just arrived,” Lorcan continues with a grin. “Want me to introduce you, so you can see it up close?”

Lorcan points in the direction of the sliding doors that lead out to the patio, and there, in all his tall blonde and board-shorted glory stands Rowan. Finally. But Aelin’s heart drops. Because Rowan isn’t alone. He’s arrived with a girl.

~*~*~*~*~

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[thesentientmango]

Spirit Guide

Prompt: Day 3 - You have an animal that only you and your soulmate can see.


Read on A03

Pairing(s): Prinxiety

Summary: Virgil notices a person he doesn’t recognize in his first block class, when he finds a note from them with a drawing of their soul-animal it must be a coincidence that his looks so similar right?

Word count: 3400

Cw- panic attack

A/N- Day three! @tsshipmonth2020

~~~

Virgil woke up to the slight vibration of gentle purring on his chest. Virgil’s hand drifted over to the cat and he began to pet her as he blearily opened his eyes.

“Hey,” Virgil said as his cat nuzzled against his hand. “You joining me today?”

The cat, Sally, was orange with white splotches, and she had a scar running across her front left shoulder. Sally stood up and stretched, as she did this her tail flicked Virgil in the face. “What a way to say hello.” Virgil said as he rubbed his face where Sally had hit it. She leapt off his chest and began to walk towards the closed door. When she noticed Virgil wasn’t following her, she sat down and meowed indignantly.

“Okay, okay.” Virgil said as he sat up. “I’m coming, you little diva.” Virgil stretched and made his way to the door. “My soulmate must be so dramatic if they’ve taught you how to act like this,” Virgil joked as he opened the door.

Sally immediately walked out, her head held high, like she was making a point to actively ignore Virgil’s comment.

Virgil rolled his eyes and followed Sally into the kitchen, where she had made herself quite comfortable on top of the fridge. Virgil poured himself a bowl of cereal and ate it slowly as he scrolled through his phone. After he ate, Virgil put his bowl in the dishwasher and thanks to Sally knocking them off the counter, remembered to take his meds. The morning blurred by, and soon he was putting on a pair of jeans and the hoodie he wore everyday.

Virgil grabbed his bag and went out to get his bike. Virgil had ridden his bike to school everyday for the past two years. He had started when his therapist had recommended it as an alternative to riding the bus, which always had been a source of anxiety for him. Virgil unlocked his bike and pocketed the lock.

"Do you want to ride with me?" He asked Sally asshe wove in between his legs, he knew she could teleport or something like that, she was a link between him and his soulmate, a mystical creature, but even so he kind of hoped she'd want to ride with him. She was comforting.

Sally disappeared and Virgil's heart sank for a moment, but just as soon as she disappeared, he felt her reappear around his shoulders. She rubbed her head against Virgil's face and sat down.

Virgil mounted his bike before reaching up to pet her one more time, "Okay, are you ready? Hold in tight."

Fifteen minutes later, Virgil arrived at school. Sally stayed curled around his shoulders as he locked up his bike and went inside. Virgil found his way up to his first class, it was on the top floor so Virgil always went straight there as soon as he arrived.

Virgil was the first to arrive, like normal, he sat down at his table, since the class was mostly discussion based, they weren’t at desks like in most of their other classes. Virgil sat at one of the back tables but nearest the door, and grabbed his notebook from his bag and began to write. Virgil wrote whenever he could, he liked how it felt to transform life into words for others to experience, not that Virgil would ever show anyone else his writing. Virgil noticed a window in the corner of the room was opened and focused on that to start with. Students slowly began to trickle in, every face was familiar. As soon as his friend, Patton walked in, Virgil closed his writing notebook, but he tried to keep one eye on the doorway as people entered, Virgil had known them all for years and- Virgil frowned as his eyes flicked over a person he didn’t recognize.

In the other corner of the room, facing towards Virgil, was a person with light brown skin and extremely curly brown hair. They had piercings all over their ears and one on their left eyebrow. On their ears there was an earring that looked like daggers or small swords in each of the earlobe holes, as well as several different shaped and colored studs in their ears. There was also a small chain earring that went from near the top of their ear to about midway down in one ear and in the other there was an arrow that was tilted down that was going from one side of their ear to the other. Besides the piercings, their clothes were also very recognizable, they were wearing a black netted choker with multi-colored beads looped onto it. They had a black cropped t-shirt on with a yellow sketchy crown design on it, and they were wearing black track pants.

Virgil didn’t think he’d ever seen them before, they weren’t exactly someone who blended in, or wanted to blend in for that matter. Virgil glanced at them again, he didn’t want to stare, he was afraid to be caught looking, but the new kid was just very interesting. As Virgil observed them, they noticed a few things. Virgil would have expected them to be emphatically talking with the people at their table, and they were talking to the people at their table, but to Virgil’s surprise, they seemed much more focused at whatever they were writing or drawing in front of them.

“Hey Pat,” Virgil said. “How’s Trevor?”

Patton opened out eir hand and pet the air with one of eir fingers, “He’s good! As tiny as usual!”

Virgil smiled, before his eyes shifted back towards the mystery person, “Do you recognize that kid over there?” Virgil asked Patton.

Ey glanced past Virgil and almost squealed, “Oh, no I don’t! This is so exciting, do you think they’re new?”

Virgil nodded, “I mean yeah, I don’t know what else it could mean.”

Sally, who had been curled up in Virgil’s lap, jumped down as the teacher, Dr. Picani, clapped their hands, “Alright, guys! We’ve got a new person joining us and the rest of the school.” Dr. Picani looked over at the person Virgil didn’t recognize, “You did just move here right?” The kid nodded and Dr. Picani drew attention to themself again, “Fabulous! Well, do you want to introduce yourself?”

“Sure thing,” they stood up and glanced around the class quickly, before meeting Virgil’s eyes “I’m Roman Darling, I use he/him pronouns, and I just moved here from New York with my twin, Remus.” Roman sat back down and after a little bit of banter, Dr. Picani started the lesson.

Midway through, Virgil glanced around for Sally, it wasn’t like her to go wandering off. He spotted her curled up on the table that Roman was sitting at, and Roman was still doodling in his notebook or whatever he was doing. Virgil frowned but he supposed it didn’t really matter, it wasn’t like he could see her.

Patton jabbed him slightly with eir elbow, “You’re staring,” ey whispered.

Virgil felt his face heat up, and immediately turned his eyes down at his paper and started scribbling nonsense to make himself look busy.

When the bell rang Virgil immediately made a b-line for the door, he didn’t know if Roman had caught him staring but he certainly didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“Wait! My Chemical Romance, wait up!” Virgil didn’t stop but it didn’t matter, Roman was almost a foot taller than him, so he quickly caught up and kept pace with Virgil. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were running away from me!” Roman joked.

"Did you need something?" Virgil asked.

Roman shook his head, "Nope! You just forgot your notebook." Roman handed him his writing notebook, and as he did that Virgil glanced up enough to see Sally standing across his shoulders.

Virgil tried to hide his surprise, and took his notebook, "Ah, thanks Princey."

"Princey?" Roman asked, "like Prince Charming?"

"I didn’t really have a specific prince in mind,” Virgil said. “But if you must press me, I think you're like Tony.”

“Who’s Tony?”

“Exactly,” Virgil said as he ducked into his next class. “It was nice to meet you Princey. See you around.”

Virgil took a deep breath as he found his way to his desk, his mind kept wandering to Roman, he sure was something else, but it was nice of him to have brought his notebook. Virgil opened up his notebook to the page he had been writing on but instead of seeing his writing there were two folded torn out sheets of notebook paper.

Virgil took them out of his notebook cautiously, and unfolded them. On the sheet which was immediately to him, he saw some writing in fancy scrawl. Virgil glanced at the clock, five minutes to class starting, he had time to read.

Hello fellow classmate!

My name is Roman, but you already knew that, it’s your name which escapes me, mysterious hoodie dude. Anyway that’s not the point! My point is my familiar seems to have taken a liking to you! And now you might say familiars aren’t a good judge of character, but as they are a string of fate wound between two individuals, I think they have excellent judgement! They are spirit guides after all, protectors. Anyway Artemis has never led me astray before. Now I hear you, you’re probably wondering, ‘but Roman, couldn’t you have just done this in person rather than write this beautifully written letter?’ And dear citizen I could have, but you make me nervous in a way I can not describe, and I think this is safer. Anyway you seem like the letter type, maybe not one for confrontation. I have attached a drawing I did of Artemis while she was hanging out around your shoulders during class.

Sincerely

Roman C. Darling

Virgil laughed slightly as he read the letter, Princey really had been a good nickname, but what was this guy going on about, strings of fate, familiars, spirit guide, that all nonsense just sounded like a fancy name for a pet. Virgil flipped the page expecting to see some kind of snake or something curled around his shoulders, but instead he saw what looked like a drawing of him and a cat. Virgil did hate jumping to conclusions, especially ones that left him vulnerable, but it looked a lot like Sally. There was no color, and it was a rough pencil sketch but as Virgil scanned the drawing he noticed something, not only were the splotches of dark and light in very similar places to where Sally had hers, but there was a scar Roman had drawn on her left shoulder.

Virgil froze. This was weird. Suddenly his teacher began to start class, but Virgil wasn’t paying attention, he was too caught up in his own thoughts. Eventually Virgil started to write on a piece of paper, but he wasn’t taking notes. Roman had been right about one thing, Virgil was a letter type guy.

Hey Princey.

Sorry my handwriting isn’t as over the top as yours, but I suppose handwriting matches the personality. I got your letter and drawing which you so elegantly stuffed in my notebook. But you know you were right, I am a letter guy, and I don’t love confrontation. Which comes to now. Hi. So, your pet, ‘Artemis’. Your drawing was nice... It captured her likeness really well. Although I think color suits her best, orange and white. Can’t really capture Sally’s vibrancy in black and white. Yeah, I wouldn’t have written this if I wasn’t sure but, you know I saw something on the drawing, a scar on her shoulder. What are the chances there are two very similar looking pets or whatever you called her were in the same room. I’d say pretty slim. So, yeah.

Sincerely

Virgil’s hand hovered above the last line, ‘sincerely’, Roman would know who it was from, it wasn’t like he needed to sign it, Virgil left it nameless, and folded up the paper and frowned, he wasn’t exactly sure when he was going to give it to Roman, he didn’t really want to get roped into a conversation when he did it either. Suddenly Virgil felt something brush up against his leg, Sally was weaving in and out of his legs, and looking curiously up at him. Virgil ran his fingers over the edge of the letter for a moment before handing it down to her.

The class was in the middle of ‘independent’ work time, but the teacher didn’t really mind people talking, so Virgil felt okay with whispering, “Take this to him.” As he handed the paper down.

Sally grabbed the paper in her mouth and she didn’t immediately rip it up, so Virgil assumed she understood as she disappeared. With that over and done with, Virgil tried to concentrate his attention on his work, as he tried to ignore all the thoughts pertaining to Roman.

~~~

Roman was a reasonable guy. He was very fanciful, but he learnt not to let that cloud his judgment. So when he saw a kid in his class with Artemis on his shoulders, he convinced himself that Artemis simply liked him, and that was a sign. Roman was very observant though, and he didn’t miss the way the kids hand seemed to be petting Artemis, or the way he stared at Artemis when she came over to sit on his table. Even so, Roman wrote those off as seeing things that weren’t really there, he had probably just been scratching himself when Roman thought he was petting Artemis and he was probably just spacing out.

Still, Roman wasn’t one to ignore a sign like that completely, so he drew Artemis and the kid, it was rough sure, but he’d like to think he captured their likenesses. He also wrote a letter.

When Roman had first come into the classroom, he’d noticed the boy had a black spiral notebook out, which he also noticed wasn’t what he used for the class, he had a purple one for that. The boy had shoved the black notebook into a corner of the table, and was talking to another kid. Roman assumed they must be friends, by how easily they were talking to each other.

At the end of class the boy practically sprinted out of the room, and Roman noticed he had left his notebook behind. Roman wasn’t one to let an opportunity slip by, so he grabbed the notebook, shoved the papers in it, and hurried after the guy.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to happen after he gave the person, who Roman still didn’t know his name, the letter and picture but what he certainly wasn’t expecting was Artemis to appear in his class with a paper in her mouth. She trotted over to him looking very pleased with herself and dropped the paper on his desk. Roman wasn’t exactly sure what everyone else was seeing, but a few people definitely shot him some weird looks.

As quietly as he could, he unfolded the paper. Jagged letters formed uneven words on the page, Roman took a deep breath before he began to read.

Hey Princey.

Roman’s heart squeezed.

Sorry my handwriting isn’t as over the top as yours, but I suppose the handwriting matches the personality.

Roman was reasonable, but this seemed too coincidental to be a coincidence.

I got your letter and drawing which you so elegantly stuffed in my notebook.

Roman smiled to himself, there was no way this was anyone other than that boy in the hoodie Artemis had been all friendly with.

But you know you were right, I am a letter guy, and I don’t love confrontation. Which comes to now. Hi. So, your pet, ‘Artemis’.

Roman rolled his eyes, Artemis was so much more than a pet.

Your drawing was nice... It captured her likeness really well. Although I think color suits her best, orange and white. Can’t really capture Sally’s vibrancy in black and white.

If Roman wasn’t sure before he was now. But naming Artemis Sally? What an ordinary name for an extravagant cat such as Artemis.

Yeah, I wouldn’t have written this if I wasn’t sure but, you know I saw something on the drawing, a scar on her shoulder. What are the chances there are two very similar looking pets or whatever you called her in the same room. I’d say pretty slim. So, yeah.  Sincerely

Roman put down the letter, his heart was beating out of his chest, that emo kid was his soulmate? And Roman still didn’t know his name! Roman sighed his soulmate was such a tease.

It was towards the end of class when Roman got an idea, he tore a piece of paper out of his notebook and wrote,

Won’t even sign your name? No matter, meet me at the big tree out front after school! We have a lot to talk about.

Sincerely yours

Roman added a heart at the end before handing the letter to Artemis. She grabbed the letter and ran out of the room. Roman smiled to himself as he turned his attention back to the class. He’d found his soulmate. He’d really found his soulmate! Maybe moving hadn’t been such a bad thing.

~~~

The bell rang and Virgil got up slowly and began to pack his stuff back into his bag. Sally hadn’t come back yet, and Virgil was starting to get worried, not with whether or not Sally was okay, Virgil knew she would be fine, but he was worried about Roman. Maybe he wasn’t Virgil’s soulmate, and he thought Virgil was crazy, and then he was going to tell everyone and-

Virgil began to panic, his thoughts were swirling and he couldn’t breathe.

Virgil stumbled into an empty staircase and sat down against the wall, everything was bad. Something soft touched his leg, Virgil curled in on himself, tightening the grip around his legs.

It brushed against his leg again, and then it was gone, Virgil almost wished it would come back.

After a little while the warning bell went off, he was going to be late for class. He needed to get up, but he couldn't.

“Hey-”

He couldn’t breathe.

“Are you okay?”

He shook his head as pressed his palms into his eyes.

“Um okay do you need me to get someone?”

Virgil shook his head again as he tried to focus on his breathing the last thing he needed was more people.

“Do you want to hold Arte- er Sally?”

Sally? Where was she?

“She’s right here,” something soft and warm was placed in his arms.

Sally began to purr and Virgil felt himself slowly relax as his breath synced with Sally's breathing. Eventually Virgil felt himself relax as his breathing became more steady. After a while, he slowly opened his eyes, Roman was sitting by his side playing with a small piece of paper.

“Roman?” Virgil asked, his voice felt small, “what are you doing here?”

Roman looked up sharply, “You’re okay!” He said and sighed as he sat back. “I was gonna-” he trailed off before shaking his head, “nevermind, it doesn’t matter. I’m glad Artemis helped.”

Virgil nodded and adjusted himself against the wall, “Um… I should get to class.”

“Wait, hold up.” Roman said, “I’m not gonna stop you, we are very late after all, but Artemis never gave you this.” Roman rubbed the back of his neck and handed the note he had been playing with to Virgil. He laughed slightly, “She’s a slacker…”

Virgil took the note, and turned it over in his hands, “what is it?”

“A note, just meet me after school? By the big tree?”

“Yeah, okay.” Virgil stood up. “I think we have some stuff to talk about.”

Roman nodded, and as they began to walk down the hallway, “You’re telling me!”

Virgil glanced over, “so where are you headed?”

Roman froze, “Uh, that’s a good question.” He pulled his schedule out and scanned it, “Room 216?”

“Oh cool, I'm headed that way. Let me walk you to your class, I’ll tell your teacher you were hopelessly lost and I’ll get a late pass from them.”

“Excuse you! I never do anything hopelessly.”

Their conversation dwindled, and walked down the hallways in relative silence, very aware of their footsteps against the tile floor, everyone was in class and the building felt quiet. However the energy vibrating around them was anything but silent. It was loud and exciting, and when they had to part ways that was the last thing either of them wanted to do.

[iscribble]

by aim, not arrows

pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader synopsis: you start to think that maybe the King and Queen traded their wisdom with majesty when you pick up a life lesson from your archery instructor instead of them, your own parents. genre(s): royalty!au, archery instructor!soonyoung, more milieu-of-poverty themed in this one word count: 2,108 part: 1 | 2

He was indelible, like a permanent ink jotted down on paper, impossible to erase. The image of his beauteous visage left traces all over your shambolic thoughts, not wanting to be put out like fire resisting rain. His scent resembled the morning after a thunderous night, crisp air that wafted down the pasture, leaving you breathing for more.

But he was not yours, no. He was not yours to think of, not yours to touch, not yours to feel. He shouldn’t be confined to the depths of your mind, and certainly not to you.

“Your Highness,” a small voice called out, “your archery instructor is waiting.”

You found yourself smiling. Smiling at the thought of his sterling eyes piercing right through yours, his tender hands guiding you so meekly, like not wanting to bruise any part of you. You found yourself excited to pick up with where you left off the previous week, curious of versions of him he might fortuitously disclose, of how a nonpareil archer like him does what he does, and how it is even possible to feel all sorts of sensations from only having met him once. You found yourself asking, what is his secret?

“I’m ready.” You disregarded the knots that assembled in your stomach.

The atmosphere that led up to your meeting was electrifying, which had your system teeming with the jitters. 

Soonyoung was getting the equipments ready when you slipped in a civil greeting.

“Princess,” he spoke, “lovely to meet you again.”

Soonyoung was dressed more unpretentiously today, donning only a simple navy tracksuit. This time, his locks were well hidden beneath his cap. As much as you ached for the sight of his black locks dangling just above his eyelids, his new flair still jetted butterflies inside you.

“I’ve been practicing,” you avowed proudly, although not wanting to come off as vain, “on my own.”

Soonyoung lifted an eyebrow, impressed. “You wanna show me, princess?”

You took the bow from him, perfected your posture and released the arrow. You missed the center by a few inches but the manoeuvre seemed fulfilling enough to Soonyoung. “Princess, I think you’re qualified to advance.”

“There is more to this?” You let out a groan, “For a second I thought I mastered it all.”

Your utterance gained a sweet chuckle from Soonyoung. “You are good, though, princess.”

It was bound to happen. How your eyes would always chance upon the nigh invisible trails of sweat that sank to his chin. The way his hand would sporadically travel up to fix his cap. How his Adam’s apple bobbed to the the erratic rhythm of the wind. It was bound to happen that you were going to fall in love with Soonyoung. Not now, not yet, but you knew.

“Come walk with me? I'll show you the palace.” You thought the words had coiled in your head, but remnants of the spittle you felt in the tip of your tongue convinced you differently. Your words were brutally honest, and worst, you were out of control.

“Are you offering to take me for a walk, princess?”

“Yes,” you caressed your nape in disquietude, “I just did.”

“What about our archery lesson?”

“It can wait,” you nudged the bow he was holding, “besides, you told me I was good enough already.”

Soonyoung's dicey pause was trouble to you, but it did bring you to suss how profoundly reckless you were. With the palace void of the king and queen for the time being, you couldn't help but be enthralled by the thought of taking Soonyoung with you about the palace.

“I suppose it won't hurt.” He flashed a toothy grin.

Your nerves tingled with vim and vigour as your lips slowly stretched out into a smile. You were ecstatic. “Follow me.”

Nature seemed to succour you, for every time your head turned in random angles, the willows always seemed to stand tall in its milieu of catkins, the sphere looked a tad bluer than it was yesterday, and the scintillating rays irradiated the faces of the palace in all the right ways, almost as if the universe permitted you and Soonyoung to spend time around the palace.

“So, tell me about your family.” You suggested. 

“My family?” He rubs his nape in dubiety. “There are four of us, I have a younger sister.”

“Are you close?” You hesitated, but blurted out the question anyway.

“We are, we spend much time together, and we do social work every week,” Soonyoung revealed, wearing a smile, “and it makes us happy.” 

“Social work, like?”

“We teach children, give them food, clothing, all sorts of those, princess.”

You have never felt how it was like to do a good turn for the impoverished, because every time the king and queen does, you were left to succumb to your books. Of course, you loved reading, and mostly if not always, feel aversion toward being outside the palace. But you did love welfare, especially of those in penury. 

“I’d love to play a part,” you confessed, admiring Soonyoung’s proclivity for charity, “that’s, of course, if you don’t mind.”

You had no knowledge of this, but Soonyoung had a penchant for anyone with a strong social conscience, like you. He would love for you to join him, but in view of the circumstances, he had no idea how you would execute it together.

“Princess,” he began, “I reckon you aren’t allowed to step foot outside the palace grounds?”

He didn’t mistakenly remember, but your obstinacy has never dwindled into something less. You were determined to help the poor — and as much as it sounded awry — especially because it was with Soonyoung. So when the earliest sun flaunted itself over the horizon and a scant shaft inched toward your bedroom window the next day, you knew better than to remain in your never-ending string of dreams. 

You slowly slipped into the still halls of the palace, refraining from waking anyone up or running into one of the servants.

There was a secret passage that connected the library to the grounds outside. It has never been used, to the point where you suspected they might have forgotten the structure existed. You absconded through the tunnel, making sure not to resonate any sort of jarring noise. The morning air greeted you right as you arrived at the end of the passageway. The passerine birds crooned a melody of their own the same time you admired the brilliant colours of the sun toning gracefully with the cerulean skies. 

The lively market was where you would find Soonyoung, struggling with the boxes behind a line of stalls. You observed how his chest heaved upon placing down each box, his bare arm glistening with sweat, his eyes always trailing to another one as he trudged back to the pack of boxes that never seemed to pare down. 

“Need a little help with that?” You offered. Soonyoung flinched at the unexpected surfacing of your voice.

“Princess!” He gasped, but later toned down his voice after he realised you weren’t supposed to be here. “Princess, you’re here.”

“Just as we concurred.”

A whiff of panic crossed his features almost very noticeably. You understood that it was too much of a risk to come to the market, considering anyone could recognise you were the princess. But there was something so enticing about the way Soonyoung spelled out the plan to you in the garden yesterday, that almost instantly dispelled your doubts. 

Soonyoung had to act fast. As the alarm blazing in his eyes slowly ebbed away, he quickly took hold of your wrist and drew you behind a tall Silver maple tree.

“Stay put, princess,” he whispered, “after I finish organising those boxes, we’ll go to the children.” 

You did as he told, although not really used to taking commands from a commoner. But he was Soonyoung. Soonyoung wasn’t a commoner, he was the very man who put you in internal debate of whether he owns your heart, or you just happen to be in a fleeting moment of attraction. 

The market continues to bristle with rustics and more commoners as you hid behind the old trunk. As soon as Soonyoung was finished, the two of you hurried to shelter where the children were, through the thin brume that still lingers in the morning air. 

The shelter sits between a small aged school and a vacant health clinic, its walls already forming plain breaks. The place is fairly dim and distant from the rackety locale you were in before, although you can still hear the obscure blethering coming from there. 

You noticed the nimble twinkle that manifested in his eyes as Soonyoung smiled, cuddling the children that came running to his arms. Buoyant and spirited laughters were exchanged, a sight you scarcely ever see. Soonyoung introduced you to each of them, beginning by divulging you were a real princess. You watched as some of them left their jaw hanging open — so open that they must’ve swallowed a fair amount of invisible dust — some of them asked you if it was true and confessed that was why you looked so charming.

“Of course she is,” Soonyoung blurted, “her heart is really charming too.”

Although you hadn’t been in a romantic relationship before, the phrase isn’t all that alien to you. You hear people tell you you’re lovely every time. Some for the purpose of flattering you, perhaps flirting with you, but it was contrasting coming from Soonyoung. You didn’t know if he meant it or was just pleasing the children, but the words that travelled from his mouth felt genuine. 

The first light advanced just like that, with you and Soonyoung amusing the children, catering to all of their childish needs. You felt closer and more intimate with him now. You stole glances when he wasn’t looking, admiring how gentle he was with the kids, how absolutely fetching his features were now that you were able to stare at him longer, and cherished all the times your fingers would brush against each other. Little did you know, he did the same. He could see your endeavour to blend in with the children at first, but you ultimately started to open up to the sundry questions they asked. Soonyoung loved that. He loved seeing you like this, in your truest form, he believed. You were finally able to do what your heart really yearned for. 

You were relishing your time with Soonyoung and the children, until your dread eventuated.  

“News is being spread from the palace that you’re missing.” Soonyoung announced, a frown appearing across his face. 

“Then I have to get going,” you sighed weakly, “are the guards near?”

Soonyoung peered outside to confirm. There was a commotion near the market, but he couldn’t tell if it was about you or the trade occurring there.

“I’m not sure, princess,” he spoke while observing the situation outside, “but it is best if you go back home.”

You nodded understandingly. You said your final goodbyes to the children and witnessed as they immediately went sullen, some whining about why you have to leave so untimely. You settled a sweet kiss on each of their head and smiled at them for the last time. 

“Do you want me to take you there, princess?” Soonyoung offered.

“No,” you muttered, “I don’t want to get you involved.”

Soonyoung looked broken as he couldn’t do anything to help you, but you were okay, knowing that he unequivocally savoured his time with you, and you did too. He placed a gentle peck on your cheek that lingers for a bit before he retreated.

“Be careful, princess.”

You were beyond grateful for Soonyoung that he showed you how the milieu of poverty looked like. The children were happy despite not having everything you had, and that was how Soonyoung was like too. He seemed content with what he had, and you found yourself falling even harder for him.

You feared that this was going to be the last time you see Soonyoung if your parents found out, and if that was the case, you knew he was never going to know how you felt about him. So you pulled him closer, planted a demure kiss on his lips, and stayed there for as long as the heavens allowed you to. 

Because although Soonyoung loved you as much as you loved him, you did not belong to each other, no. You weren’t each other’s to think of, each other’s to touch, each other’s to feel. He shouldn’t be confined to the depths of your mind, and certainly not to you.

[professoruber]

Epithet Erased Role Swap AU FanFic: A swapped place in Sweet Jazz City Prologue

Hi, This is just a quick Fanfiction I've written up based on the amazing Role Swap AU made by @spliinkles. I actually did have a somewhat similar idea before (which was what if some epithet related event caused characters to switch ages) but I really love the ideas of this AU and wanted to write about it.

Sorry first of all if there are any errors. I wrote this up kind of quickly and if I do find errors I will be willing to fix them if  I get around to it.

Am posting this fanfiction here because the Epithet Erased fandom seems biggest on Tumblr and also that's where this AU is from.

Prologue: You're reading it

Chapter 1: https://professoruber.tumblr.com/post/189841325568/a-swapped-place-in-sweet-jazz-city-chapter-1

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Giovanni Potage was what some might call a variety of unflattering yet undeniably accurate descriptors. Such things included ‘problem child’ and ‘wannabe delinquent’, both titles he wore with pride.

With the exception of the ‘wannabe’ part of course, if you were to ask him, he would insist he was the most feared delinquent in his school’s history and most definitely not an adorable little soup child.

His reign of delinquency was joined by his friends, his ‘boys’ as he called them. Two of these aforementioned boys were now accompanying him on the most boring field trip ever.

“-and that’s when I smash that ball right into the principle’s office, and everyone cheered” Giovanni finishes accounting his latest most definitely truthful anecdote about his misadventures as a dangerous criminal delinquent.  His squeaky twelve-year-old vocal cords pushed to their deepest potential level in order to attempt to put on a wave of coolness on top of what he considers his amazing storytelling ability.

 “WOW GIOVANNI. YOU’RE SO AMAZING! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH” Screams one of his friends, known most often as Crusher for rather self-explanatory reasons. The high volume of his sudden outburst eliciting a glare from one of the museum guides who were currently giving a tour to their class.

The young guide turns away from the crowd of youths briefly to pop another pain pill before taking a deep breath and snapping back towards the kids with a forced smile.

“As I was saying before I was… interrupted…” she began, briefly pausing to once again glare at Crusher, who blessed with embarrassment and hid behind the protection of Giovanni as she continues “Epithets are rare and amazing powers gifted to just a one in five of the population. Wow, so cool. Anyway, moving on…” she begins to keep walking before being lightly nudged by her older bearded co-guide.

“Come now my apprentice Mera. It is important to show enthusiasm for this thing. It’s important to always do your best in every situation” the man says the last sentence with such sheer power that he flexes for emphasis, prompting a array of awed stares bystanders at his muscular build.

Mera even admires it for a moment before turning back to the children and sighing “You’re right Indus… I’ll try to spice up the tour a bit” she gives a somewhat more genuine smile this time, as Indus pats her on the back.

“Now that’s the spirit! Why don’t we tell them about the Arsene Amulet, that will certainly spice things up” Indus suggests with large genuine smile aimed at his young apprentice.

Mera goes wide eyed at the mention of the amulet before whispering to Indus “Uh… Indus I’m not sure if telling these kids about the amulet is a good idea”

Indus looks thoughtful but nevertheless was still in proud teacher mode “Do not worry apprentice Mera. No harm should come from granting these children some of the wonder of this museum”

Mera eventually relents and soon launches into a somewhat less half-hearted explanation of the amulet as well as other cool and interesting exhibits, Indus sometimes dropping in to suggest topics, such as the Dinosaur exhibition which he insists is amazing.

However, these were quickly drowned out Giovanni’s criminal mind as it’s focus settled firmly on the fact a mysterious cool amulet was hidden within these halls. An awesomely evil formed from the dark confines of his self-proclaimed delinquent mind.

“Car Crash, Crusher, come with me” he whispers in his best covert voice before snatching his pair of friends away from the tour. The former blushed at the close contact to his crush while the latter looked annoyed.

“Hey, my name’s Fred. All I did was crash Ben’s go-kart five times and now everyone just won’t let it go!” He complains and throws up his hands in annoyance.

“Shush, will you? Whatever. I have an awesome plan to show the whole entire world my awesome criminal skills so no one will deny that Giovanni Potage is the most awesome supervillain of all time!” He exclaims quietly with clenched fist.

Crusher loved every moment of It and even ‘Fred’ was captivated by the intensity if nothing else.  

“I will sneak inside the museum; spray paint my name on the exhibits. And then for the finale I will steal that amulet thingy and leave a pool of boiling lava and… uh… acid! In its place. These history nerds will never no one hit them” he gives a smug smile, proud of himself for having come up with such a villainous plan.

Crusher fell to the floor as he clenches his heart, overwhelmed by the sheer continued amazingness of Giovanni. Fred meanwhile was somewhat confused on What Giovanni’s plan was.

“So, you want to get an amulet which steals Epithets?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

Giovanni looks confused for a moment before putting two and two together “oh is that what that thing does? Nah that’s totally lame. What I want is the street cred. If I pull this off then all the greatest criminal gangs will be begging to have me join them. Maybe I might be able to join the Bushido Blasters… or even the Banzai Blasters!” He exclaims with enthusiasm.

As Crusher continued to be amazed, Fred scratched the back of his head “I don’t know man, this seems kind of dangerous even compared to what we usually get up to. And me and ‘Crusher’ can’t be out after dark, so you’ll be alone for this”

Crusher cries manly boy tears at the thought of having to abandon Giovanni. But Giovanni simply dramatically holds his hand to his chest and begins to reassure them.

“Don’t worry my boys! I have the greatest- hey what’s that over there!” He suddenly shouts pointing to the left, and grinning as Crusher and Fred look to in that direction. While his friends are distracting, Giovanni quickly dashes behind them and yells “Teleports behind!”, startling both boys.

“As you can see my stealth skills and unmatched. And after tonight no one will able to deny the supervillainy of Giovanni Potage!”

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Across the city in the backroom of a family owned toy store sat a young barely adult woman wearing a dark green dress and a yellow apron and boots, her dark brown hair tied up to prevent it getting in her face.

The woman was working stoically on toys which would be sold in the Blyndeff Toy Emporium, her family’s store.

“Police are still baffled at the recent theft of expensive several statues from a local art gallery, all of which were replaced by teddy bears. Despite the absurdity of this case police have still found no leads on the criminals responsible, although reports suggest Banzai Blasters may have been involved- “ the noise drowns out in the woman’s mind as her lips slip into an evil grin as she recalls the recent caper which led to her promotion from Blaster to Captain in the Banzai ranks.

In the monotonous world of manufacturing and retail she was glad to have an outlet to cut loose when she could, keeping up appearances in front of customers and not hitting the many who deserved it was tiring, and she’s been doing this for around a decade at this point.

Taking a deep breath, she got back to work, turning off the news livestream playing on her phone just had it had begun talking about how a Detective Ashling had been assigned to the case. She had bigger things to concern herself with right now.

Namely that of her first heist as a Banzai Captain. Her crew of minions were ready and a location had been mapped out. Now all she needed to do was complete the final workings of her special criminal helper toys, as well as the toys which need to be sold.

“Molly! Mum wants to know if the new toys are ready yet!” The bratty voice of the woman’s little sister comes through the door of the workshop as the young girl in question walks into take a look herself.

Molly feels like grimacing but instead effortlessly donned a smile as hollow as her soul.

“Almost done Lorelai. Tell mum I’ll have these out on the shelves soon” she said with a mask of cheerfulness, to which Lorelai simply rolled her eyes at and gave a quick “Whatever” before leaving back to the rest of the building, shutting the door behind her.

Molly got back to work, only stopping at one point to take out a small picture of the Sweet Jazz Museum, causing her to gain a much more genuine, and evil smile “tonight” she simply says, as she returns to work.

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Later in the dead of night, Giovanni’s head raises up above from a bin. He leaps out and whisper shouts “Teleports inside!” to himself as he looks around.

He proceeds to run carelessly around the now empty halls of the museum, slipping and knocking some stuff over a few times before arriving in the entrance.

“Uh hu! This shall be a great place to begin the reign of terror of Giovanni Potage” the twelve year out super-criminal announces as he walks up to the desk.

“I should call my boys, to let them know I got it, not that they would be surprised of course” He picks up the phone and dials Car Crash’s number, only for it to fail to go through. Confused, Giovanni looks at the phone only to find an explanation of its true nature.

“Internal and emergency calls only? Pfft, lame” he comments as he slams down the receiver. He then proceeds to duck down under the desk and take out some items from his bag. First a whoopy cushion which he fashions to the chair and then a canister of spray paint.

He begins spray painting a message about how lame their phone system is. Meanwhile as the young delinquent writes, a hole in the roof is silently made and a group of Banzai Blaster begin slowly coming in from above, going unheard from anyone who might be within earshot thanks to their leader’s Epithet.

The last to go down is their new Captain, Bear Trap, who under the silence of her Epithet begins handing out instructions to her minions.

“There all done” Giovanni says proudly as he finishes his villainous vandalism, popping back up from behind the desk her suddenly comes eye to eye with Bear Trap.

All parties present simply fall back, startled due to not expecting to encounter anyone else. For a few moments silence reigns even without the assistance of Bear Trap’s Epithet.

The silence isn’t broken until the shock face of Giovanni suddenly shifts into one of wonder and excitement.

“Wow criminals! Awesome!”

[heamarvel]

Holiday Movie Challenge Prompt and Badge lists

Hellooooo shippers of all Marvel ships!

This marks the kickoff to HEA (Happily Ever After) Marvel’s Holiday Movie Challenge! If you don’t know us, we’re a group of crafty mods under the direction of our own personal Pepper Potts ( @betheflame​​ ), so really, this is going to be great fun, and we hope that you’ll join us!

A brief intro to our event:

At no point do you need to sign up for this event. You are not beholden to post anything, even if you say that you will. This is a guiltless, fun event!

Pick a prompt, any prompt!

Interpret the prompt any which way you wish. We have prompt examples available for people to peruse on our blog and on our Discord, if you’re in need of a few examples.

Write (or art, podfic, or moodboard, etc.) any ship you want, even polyamorous relationships of any number or type (even if the prompts contain just two characters!).

Include additions from our badge list if you wish! They function like video game achievements (think World of Warcraft, or Xbox) and you will be rewarded with little achievement badges designed by the wonderful @kocuria​ that you can display anywhere you please.

The collection will open on November 1st and close on December 24th.

Around then we will provide a Google form to submit the badge info and other info for your fic.

BUT REMEMBER! All contributions to this event must have a Happily Ever After as per holiday movie standards (doesn’t mean there can’t be tons of angst and pain in the middle, though).

For any further info, please check out our Holiday Movie Challenge page, our Prompt and Badge page, our Frequently Asked Questions page, or ask us questions on Tumblr, Twitter, or on Discord! (Links on Tumblr.) 

But that’s enough mod-splaining, let’s take a look under the cut at the prompts and badges that we’ve been eagerly waiting to share with you!

*We have included both (1) images to download and save as well as (2) text for those who prefer or need that medium! The images are at the bottom of this post.

Here’s a separate post with just the images.

Prompts

1. Character A is a big city lawyer who swore to never go back to their hometown. Suddenly, their grandfather dies and leaves them the family Christmas Tree farm. They’re determined to go back and shut down the farm. Character B runs the farm and is determined to save it.

2. After losing their job as an au pair in New York, Character A accepts a position as a nanny in the castle of a small European principality no one has ever heard of. Character B is a single parent & ruler of the country.

3. When architect and Christmas amateur Character A finds themselves hosting their family for Christmas, they recruit holiday coordinator Character B to bring holiday joy to their home.

4. A high-powered executive reconsiders their priorities when car trouble leads them to Christmas Valley, a town in love with Christmas.

5. Two new students at nearby university, Character A and Character B, meet the first day of classes and become study partners. A local bookstore becomes a close part of their lives as their relationship grows.

6. Character A - a famous author who writes about how to stay single - is forced to look after their niece and nephew over the holidays. With the help of their Christmas-loving neighbor, Character B, they learn to find love and the Christmas spirit.

7. A young royal (Character A) escapes their entourage to explore New York City over Christmas. They meet Character B who shows the beautiful stranger their side of the city.

8. As Christmas approaches, Character A (the Lizzie Bennet character), a New York event planner, is sent to a quaint, small town to organize their holiday festival. When they arrive, they find Character B (the Darcy character), a high-profile billionaire lacking in holiday spirit, in the process of selling the charming estate they hoped to use as a venue.

9. An anxious bride-to-be (Character A, “bride” is non-gender assigned) throws in with broken-hearted and cynical Character B and a happily married couple for an emergency ride to NYC from New England.

10. Character A has to go to their cousin’s holiday wedding that’s taking place a year to the day they were left at the altar. Unable to face going alone, they con Character B into going “just as friends.”

11. When a restless young married Character A is granted a wish by a Christmas Angel to be single again, they soon discover their new life isn't what they bargained for, and embark on a quest to win Character B back.

12. Character A and Character B have been archrivals ever since a memorable fight over a coveted Christmas recital solo in elementary school. Now adults, they work side-by-side at the same school where they still constantly compete over everything. As the holiday season approaches, the entire school is getting into the spirit with the annual fundraising festival, which will feature an exciting new event - a teacher Christmas Cookie Bake-Off, judged by a tough five-star chef.

13. Character A inherited a toy factory. The town needs the factory to stay open, but they have no interest in being tied to their hometown. Especially when they find out that Character B - who broke their heart in high school - is the town’s mayor.

14. A WWII era nurse (Character A) is transported in time to 2019 and meets Character B who helps them discover the bonds of family and that the true meaning of Christmas is timeless.

15. Stranded at an airport at Christmastime, Character A accepts a ride from Character B, who has just rented the last car in town.

Badges

Length

500

1k

5k

10k

15k

20k+

Ships

We’ll be custom-making the badges for whatever ship you choose to bring to the table! (Just keep in mind our limits: no underage, no non-con, no nazis.) Popular ship or rarepair+, this group of multishipping mods would love to see whatever you choose to write!

General fic elements

Baking/Cooking

Needing a passport

Non-abled character

Neuro-diverse character

Passes the Bechdel Test

Set outside the United States

Addresses a legitimate societal ill/charity/cause

Character learns a craft as a coping mechanism

Someone eats popcorn in a dramatic scene

Mention or include a Hallmark store or movie

Character is tracing their genealogy

Character writes fanfiction

Character learns a new skill

NSFW

A/B/O

Sentinels & Guides

Soulmate-Identifying Marks

Historical AU: Scottish or Irish clans

Historical AU: Ancient Rome or Greece

Historical AU: Regency or Victorian

Historical AU: American West

Inclusion of animal other than a dog, cat, or horse

‘It Takes a Village’ (town or community helps them hook up)

Use of holiday other than Christmas - including non-winter holidays

One sentence or more spoken in a language other than Russian

Discussion on classic literature and/or classic rock ‘n’ roll

Write a pairing you’ve never written before

Holiday Movie and general tropes

Inversion/Subversion of any trope

Main character has a cuddly dog

Presence of a small town festival

'And they were roommates!'

Fake Relationship

Only One Bed

Snowball fight

Ice skating or Ice hockey

Interrupted first kiss

Stories from childhood

Sassy/nosy best friend

Conniving co-worker

Kid as matchmaker

Single parent

Holiday specific

Yule log

Playing Dreidel

Holiday movie pick: Die Hard

Use of the phrase “Santa! I know him!”

Home Alone style shenanigans, serious or not

Trying to balance an egg on the Solstice

A non-Jewish character mixes up Passover and Hanukkah

Writing format/style

Outsider POV

First Person POV

Text Message/Chat Room

3+ perspectives in one story

Dialogue Only

Epistolary

Avengers stereotypes/fanon

Thor is foreign

Bots as children

Tony has insomnia

Tony Is Worthy (of Mjolnir)

Tony as a non-Iron Man mechanic

Ceiling vent Clint Barton

Budapest Explanation

Natasha is a scary spy/likes sneaking

Super-Nanny Phil Coulson

Peter Parker being a klutz

Peter and Shuri team up on Tony

Bruce has anger management problems

Avengers Movie Night

Darcy uses her taser

Bucky speaks Russian

Steve and/or Bucky need to play catch up on modern and pop culture

Shrunkyclunks (Modern Steve/CA & non-Avenger Bucky)

Shrinkyclinks (Modern Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier & non-CA Steve)

Side Character speaking role (any apply): Dr. Doom, Reed Richards, Galactus, Ghost Rider, Frank Castle, any Inhuman, any Runaway, Sif or one of the Warriors Three, Frigga, Amora or Lorelei

Set in a Marvel canon universe (even if not canon-compliant), for example: 1872, Noir

Mod Requests

Supernatural creatures

Gender swapped MC

Someone wears a tiara

Someone wears a kimono

Long-distance relationship

Snuggling to keep warm

1940s AU

Disclaimer: The above plot summaries in the prompt list belong to numerous movies in the Hallmark catalogue. We do not claim to own them, and are not making any money off of this, nor are we being paid by Hallmark to run this event.

Additionally, as of December 14th, 2019, we are no longer associating with Hallmark even in name, due to their poor choice to cave to pressure and remove an advertisement of a gentle, loving same-sex kiss occurring at their own wedding. We cannot and will not abide that.

[soybeantree]

revenant

pairing: grimreaper!do kyungsoo x cemeteryworker!(reader) genre/warning: eventual fluff  word count: 2k+ description:  the surplus of spoopy ghost dramas as of late brought this little gem around. totally normal for a paranormal story in january, right?  a/n: january installment of our ‘trying to write a kyungsoo story for every month that he is gone’ series. hana promises that there will be a part 2 because b if there ain’t imma flip. she loves the angsty cliff-hangers. i HATE them. - em

Your mother always said the benefits to living in a rich city were innumerable. That’s a bit strong of an adjective, but you can agree that there are many benefits. You have access to great shops and great food, top rated schools, and the city is beautiful. Every building, street, and sign look like they were plucked from some children’s book. The city officials take great pride in the city’s appearance. Too much pride though, which is why you’re waking up at 9:30 in the evening for your 10:00 shift at the cemetery. The cemetery is one of the city’s top tourist attractions. The above ground mausoleums, the grand tombstones dating back centuries, they draw in countless visitors each day. As such, the city officials expend great effort and money to maintain the grounds and keep the stone gleaming. However, since appearance is everything, the cemetery’s caretakers, aka you, your father, and your grandmother before him, must only work at night. After all, what tourist wants to see a sweaty, mud-begrimed worker pushing a cart around the cemetery?

Despite the ridiculousness of the arrangement, you enjoy working at night. Grabbing a beanie, you pull it over your ears as you head out. A thin fog is your only companion as you walk the short distance to the cemetery’s back entrance. The lack of tourist makes your work easier and more bearable. If you had to do double duty as caretaker and tour guide, many tourists would find a new home in a mausoleum. Another benefit is the hefty paycheck. The extra money though is due less to working at night and more to the fact that the cemetery is haunted. Heading towards your tool shed, which is cleverly disguised as a mausoleum, you pass several spirits. The newer ones acknowledge you with a nod while the older ones wander by lost to themselves. During your school days, your classmates gave you a wide berth. They held the ignorant opinion that spirits followed you to school. However at that point, they would have had to follow your dad home then attached themselves to you then follow you to school. None of which made any sense. Ghosts rarely travel far from their resting place. Explaining that to your schoolmates though was a waste of breath, so you stopped. The caretaker position became yours by default. You went away for a few years after college, but real world jobs are too boring. When you came back, the city council all but kissed your feet. The slew of caretakers who came in after your father retired had lasted only days at a time. The cemetery was a mess. The city council was at its wits end. You could have asked for anything. In the end, you settled for the fat paycheck and complete autonomy. Pulling out your cart, you begin your work. The fog slips through the cemetery obscuring the paths and adding to the whole eerie haunted vibe. Your feet know the pathways, and you hum to yourself as you walk. On today’s “to do” list, you have polishing the mausoleums by the eastern entrance. Some city council dweeb had complained that they looked weathered and dingy. You wish he had said it to your face rather than hide behind an email, but he was probably too chicken-livered to step foot within the cemetery. “Good evening, caretaker.” The singsong voice grates against your ears. You stop in front of the first marble facade and pull a rag and polish out of your cart. “What has fouled your mood? Receive another rejection from a suitor?” “I’d have to have a suitor to be rejected by one.” You grunt as you crouch down to start on the base of the first column. “True.” She giggles. The ghost hovers beside you, the hem of her ethereal gown brushing against your cheek. You sneeze. “What has soured your mood then?” Sighing, you stand and move to the top of the column. With a huff, she floats to your other side and folds her hands in front of her. She glances over her shoulder then back at you. “The cemetery is awful quiet tonight.” You skirt around her as you move onto the next column. Beside the few specters you passed when you arrived, you have yet to meet another of the cemetery’s occupants since beginning your work. “Have you no curiosity for the cemetery’s silence?” “I assume it’s because Mrs. King started on about her grandkids again.” “Indeed not.” She simpers, peering at you from the columns other side. You divert your attention to your task, scrubbing an obstinate stain. Clearing her throat, she continues. “Mr. Long in plot 112 has gone malevolent.” Your hand stills. In addition to the high pay and freedom from human interaction, there is a third benefit to working nights at the cemetery. Arguably the best benefit, and one of the main reasons you returned. Of all the days to roll out of bed and throw on clothes, it had to be today. Yesterday, you had showered and worn decent clothing, not the stained cargo pants and t-shirt which you pulled from your laundry basket. You groan and toss your rag into the cart, fighting the urge to kick one of the wheels. Your work boots would easily protect your toes, but you’d rather not give your companion the satisfaction of seeing how deeply her news affects you. She smiles smugly at you. “I’m sure a reaper will take care of Mr. Long. You might want to make yourself scarce. I’d hate for the reaper to see you and take you with Mr. Long.” “Surely, you know which reaper has come.” She floats through the column to hover beside you. Often during your life, you have wished for the ability to slap a ghost. Today, the wish twitches your fingers, but you keep your hand by your side. Only reapers can touch ghosts. Of course, you know which reaper has come. The cemetery has a single reaper assigned to maintain order. He was in charge even before your grandmother’s time. His name is or was Kyungsoo. All your grandmother and father would say about him was that he was the cemetery’s Reaper, and it was best to leave him to work in peace. Which would be easy, if you hadn’t developed a crush on him when you were four. “Mr. Long is the first malevolent spirit since you started, correct? Which would mean this is the first time Reaper Kyungsoo has made his appearance?” Her smile widens. “How many years have passed since last you saw him? Surely, you wish to renew your acquaintance.” “Surely, you wish to mind your own damn business.” You hiss. Of all the damn ghosts to witness the first time you met Kyungsoo, it would have to be this bitch. She chuckles, and you shake your head. Stupid. However, now there’s no point in pretending you don’t care. Leaving the cart and your responsibilities behind, you race across the cemetery to plot 112.

-

A malevolent spirit is frightening to anyone who hasn’t grown up around ghosts. The normally human-appearing spirit transforms into a towering demon. There’s a lot of ear-splitting screeching and gusts of wind which dig into the ground spraying rocks and dirt into the air, and an overwhelming sense of dread fills your chest and tugs at fear. However, growing up around ghosts, you learn when you should be afraid and when the malevolent spirit is just a pissy, windbag. Mr. Long is the later. Sitting on the tombstone of a spirit who long ago passed into the beyond, you watch the skirmish between spirit and reaper. Kyungsoo rushes forward scythe in hand. His black robes billow out behind him as he leaps forward. The scythe slices through Mr. Long as he passes him. A final screech peters to a whimper as Mr. Long returns to himself. Kyungsoo lands, spinning the moment his feet touch ground. He faces his opponent, his scythe posed behind him, ready for the next swing. Mr. Long stares forlornly at the reaper then at the mess he has made of his burial site. He whimpers again. The sound tugs at your heart strings. While you are the one who will have to put the area to rights, you sympathize for the spirit. He’s new to the cemetery, two years in the grave. You didn’t know him when he was alive, and you haven’t spent much time around him since he arrived. However, you know his grave marker cost less than two hundred and that he never has flowers placed on it. He stands beside it during the day, staring at the cemetery’s entrance. Kyungsoo relaxes his stance. His scythe disappears as he steps forward. From this distance, you fail to hear the exchange between reaper and spirit, but you can see the relief in Mr. Long’s shoulders. A reaper’s duty is to ferry the dead to their final resting place and protect the living from the dead. Kyungsoo will allow Mr. Long to remain in the world of the living and will not resort to drastic measures to protect the living. You’ve heard of reapers who decimate a malevolent spirit without a thought. Kyungsoo has never been like that. Even that first time you met him, he brought the spirit back to sanity. Back then, you had thought he was some kind of superhero. He appeared from nowhere and rescued you and the monster. The conversation ends, and Mr. Long disappears to wherever ghost go. You asked both you grandmother and father where ghosts go when they disappear from the living world. Both blustered without giving a satisfactory explanation. You assume they go rest in their graves. “You’ve returned.” The voice is soft like the footsteps which brought it near you. Glancing up, you find Kyungsoo standing a few feet from you. Your heart quickens and rises through your throat, blocking all words. So you nod. “I am happy to know your family will continue to oversee the cemetery. The caretakers after your father had no place here.” Your head bobs along as you force your heart back into your chest. “I guess not everyone is cut out to work with the dead.” He smiles, and your heart rises once again. You cough and look away. “Your father is well?” You nod, keeping your eyes on the rows of tombstones. “He retired to a beach somewhere.” In a whisper, you ask, “My grandmother?” “She passed beyond when she died. I saw her off well.” As you had thought, your grandmother wasn’t one to linger in the living world. She had done her work and been satisfied with her life. “I look forward to working with you.” His words nearly force your heart from your body. You choke on it, falling off your perch from the violence of your hacking. “Are you unwell?” He crouches before you ensuring you meet his gaze. “Fine.” You croak as you push yourself off the ground and put distance between you two. “I also look forward to working with you. Not that I hope you come a lot because malevolent spirits are bad, but also when you do come I won’t be mad.” Your words peter out, and you wish you could have choked again. Kyungsoo maintains the distance you set, his lips curving down into a pout as you rambled. “Thank you for helping Mr. Long. I’ll take extra care to check on him.” You swerve the conversation. His lips turn up into a soft smile. He glances behind him at plot 112. “He is a good man and will find peace if he allows himself.” When his attention returns to you, you can feel the charge in his eyes. A caretaker’s job is more than maintaining the cemetery’s appearance. The truest duty is held within the title. You must take care of the spirits and help them on their way. You nod. “Thank you.” He bows his head. “I must be going.” In the next instant, the space before you is empty. You remain staring at that space, a forgotten smile on your lips. “I am beginning to understand your lack of suitors.” Your smile sours. You really wish you could slap a ghost.

[calligraphist-artemisia]

Harry Potter and the Best Summer (5 | An Unwelcome Visitor)

Summary: AU - canon divergence. Harry had barely been back at the Dursley’s for two weeks, when an unexpected visitor arrived at the door. He quickly finds himself spirited away back to the wizarding world and learns some secrets that have long been kept from him.

A sequel to Of Family and Unexpected Friendship. Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune.

And for anyone who’s interested, I made a Harry Potter discord server! Introducing, Virtu Alley! (like “virtually”, get it?) Feel free to pop by and chat if you’d like. (https://discord.gg/AUq3eXY)

[Sorry for the lack of hyperlinks, but my posts have once again stopped showing up when I search for them when I include them. I will reblog later to include links at the bottom of the post.]

- - - - - - -

5 | An Unwelcome Visitor

If Harry thought his first day at Oakstone Manor was hectic, it was nothing compared to the next morning, when he awoke to a loud crash coming from the hall, quickly followed by a stream of apologies from Nymphadora Tonks (who threatened to hex him if he dared called them by their full first name) and Andromeda's much quieter admonishment.

Harry found himself grinning despite the rude awakening. It was so much better than getting woken up by Aunt Petunia.

He'd met Tonks the night before when they arrived just as dinner was being arranged on the table. The very first thought he had was that they were the embodiment of everything the Dursleys hated. Short, bright pink hair was shaved on either side of their head and the length on top was gently spiked upwards. Several piercings dotted their ears and whenever they gestured with a wild flourish Harry could see that their fingernails were painted pink to match their hair.

“Wotcher, Harry,” they said with a wink and their hair shifted from pink to purple to blue and then back again.

Harry thought they were brilliant.

Andromeda's husband – Ted Tonks – was a cheery and friendly man who engaged Harry in effortless conversation about growing up in the muggle world and how shocking it was to be thrown into the magical one. He spoke only a little of his work in the pediatric ward of St. Mungo's, instead choosing to focus on learning more about Harry, as well as catching up with everyone else.

Altogether they were the picture of a healthy, functioning family.

Morning flew by and all Harry could do was sit back out of the way and watch everyone rush around in preparation for the rest of the day. Ted was the first to leave, kissing Andromeda on the cheek before flooing away to St. Mungo's. A short while later, Tonks headed out the front door, giving an explanation that they were meeting their mentor in a secret location. Harry watched as they spun on their heel and vanished with a popping sound.

Andromeda sat them all down for lessons after that. She gave Leona and Aquarius worksheets to do and then cast a silencing charm around Harry's chair so she could verbally quiz him and help fill in any blanks in his basic knowledge. He was pleased when he remembered most of what Leona had taught him, but faltered when it came to naming other Heirs he attended school with.

From there he listened with rapt attention as Andromeda covered the current active Lords and Heirs of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, of which House Black was one.

Their studies took up the rest of the morning and it was only after lunch that Harry was saved from going back to it.

Remy went with him to St. Mungo's for his appointment, only stepping out of the room for the examination and vaccinations and returned once Harry said it was okay. He wasn't terribly surprised when his healer – Adam Rue – told him that he was undernourished and that his eyeglass prescription was out-of-date.

“I am prescribing a nutrient potion for you to take with dinner each evening. I understand you'll be going back to Hogwarts in September and I will make arrangements to inform Madam Pomfrey that you are to take one each day,” said Healer Rue.

Harry fidgeted, a little worried about his schoolmates finding out he needed potions. “Do I have to take it in the Great Hall?”

“If you truly wanted to, you could always travel down to the hospital wing each evening however, the way we typically handle potions like this is to simply charm it into your goblet so that no one else is aware. The house-elves of Hogwarts are quite talented when it comes to matters of secrecy,” Healer Rue said with a reassuring smile.

He then told Harry and Remy that they could visit the offices just down the hall to either update Harry's eyeglasses or have his vision corrected completely.

“Mr. Potter, I don't mean to make assumptions about your care growing up, however I'd also like to recommend visits with one of our mind healers for the rest of the summer,” Healer Rue told them. “If for no other reason than to ease your transition into a wizarding household. All of our mind healers are sworn to keep the secrets of their patients, but if you are still uncomfortable with speaking to someone in Britain considering your status, you could hire a private healer from overseas. I would be happy to recommend a few who I have personally worked with in the past.”

“Healer Rue, can I ask about the damage left by the Magic Block?” Remy asked.

“We have removed it, of course, and taken the time to examine the damage from the curse scar. It seems that the block prevented your magic from fully cleansing it, Mr. Potter, and now that it is gone you'll see a significant ease in using your magic. That being said, our recommendation is a minimum of two weeks before you cast any spells in order to give your core time to adjust to the influx of power. A month, if you can manage it,” said Healer Rue.

Harry nodded. It wasn't like he was allowed to use his magic during summer anyway. He was sure it would be easy to go another month without casting.

Remy asked a few more questions about Harry's health and then Healer Rue handed her the prescription for the nutrient potions, which was signed and marked with his magical seal to prove its validity, as well as a list of recommended mind healers. He then guided the two of them down the hall to the office which specialized in eye-care, stepping inside to inform the receptionist that they were there for a thorough exam.

While they waited for one of the healers to become available, Harry got the chance to browse through the different frames that were available and, at Remy's urging, tried on a few to see if he liked any.

Each one was an improvement on the cheap, circular frames the Dursley's had “graciously” given him.

Remy chuckled as she glanced over a selection of frames catering to the older crowd. “Your father was always fond of horn rims. He thought they made him look rather smart. Your mother always said it made him look like more of a ponce than he already was.”

“She really said that?” Harry asked, looking away from a pair of frames that was continually shifting colors.

“Well, at first,” Remy corrected herself. “Your father was a good man and a good friend, Harry, but as a teenager he was... well, a bit entitled. Sirius was as well. I imagine it comes from being part of an old pureblood family. It all made it so your mother was less than impressed by him which only made him try harder. He came around by our sixth year, but I'll have to tell you more about it later.”

She nodded towards something over Harry's shoulder and he turned to find a woman in soft green robes walking towards them. Her badge bore the name Healer Agatha Newmark.

“You must be Harry,” she said in a chipper tone. “I'm Aggie. You can both come with me and I'll get you sorted out.”

Harry and Remy followed her back to a smaller room, where Harry sat down in a chair that faced a poster with differently sized numbers and letters. She first had him remove his glasses and attempt to read the lowest line, which he found impossible. He couldn't fully make out any letter until the third line down, but even that was blurry enough that he struggled.

A few waves of her wand had an enchanted quill scratching out the details of his eyesight and once it finished, Healer Newmark went into detail on the options available to him. Harry could get a new pair of frames with his updated prescription, charmed unbreakable and scratch resistant for up to two years, or he could get his vision corrected completely and no longer need glasses.

“Everyone is a little different and I know just as many people who like the way they look while wearing glasses as I do people who jumped at the first opportunity to have the correction done,” said Healer Newmark. “The correction is, of course, more expensive than a pair of frames, but we do have a finance program for anyone who prefer a staggered payment.”

“Harry, it's up to you,” Remy said quietly.

He didn't think about it for long. From the moment he first heard there was a chance he wouldn't have to deal with his glasses any longer, he hoped it was true. No more crooked frames. No more feeling around for his glasses every morning. No more worry about a bludger knocking them from his face and leaving him completely blind.

“I'd like to get it corrected.”

- - - - - - -

Harry expected that they would be heading home after he was finished at St. Mungo's but instead, Remy whisked him away into wizarding London to a street near Diagon Alley named Asymetric Alley, which looked like a village out of a history book, with rough, winding cobblestone streets and old timber-framed shops all pressed close together.

It gave a cozy, warm vibe that Diagon Alley didn't have, giving the impression that loitering was welcome on the streets and stopping to chat with those you walked past was a way of life.

Harry didn't spare that more than a passing thought, too busy marveling over the clarity with which he was able to see the world. There were so many details that he hadn't been able to see before! Things that he'd come to accept as being blurry around the edges suddenly had sharp outlines and signs that he once had to squint just to read he only had to glance at and know what they said!

Remy treated him to ice cream and then they were off to visit a number of shops where Harry was asked to pick out clothing, new shoes, and then helped pick out ingredients for dinner that night so Cici could make his favorite meal. Their last stop was a used bookstore, where Remy picked up an order that was waiting for her and she encouraged him to take a look around.

Harry wasn't terribly interested until he spotted a small book titled Fallacies of the Rankings of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and after reading the back cover thought that if it turned out to be something he didn't like, Hermione was likely to find it fascinating.

He was about to turn to go when a heavy thump stopped him. When he looked, he saw a dark green book laying face-up on the floor. Swooping gold lettering informed him that it was called The Magical Court of Camelot – The Truth Behind the Legends and that it was written by someone named ML Black. He picked it up and took it to the counter.

“Aunt Remy, look at this,” he said, holding up the book for her to see.

Remy examined it with interest, her eyes lingering longest on the name of the author. “ML Black... It's not a name I'm familiar with, but it Andy might know it. Would you like to get it?”

Harry nodded. “And this one too,” he said, as he passed to her Fallacies of the Rankings of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

She seemed a bit amused by the second book but didn't say a word against it, quickly passing it off to be rung up. Remy paid for it all and even got Harry a tote bag to carry them in and then they were off once again.

“I think it would be best to side-apparate on our way back. Floo travel is more difficult when you're carrying packages,” said Remy.,

She explained what it was and how it worked as she lead him towards a sectioned off area marked: Apparation Point. One side was designated as Arrival and the other Departure, which Harry supposed helped keep things more orderly. He felt a little nervous as he looped his arm around Remy's and squeezed his eyes tightly shut as she directed him to spin on his heel with her. Harry felt the weight of pressure all around him and his stomach roiled uncomfortably, and then it was over and they were on the road just outside of the gate to Oakstone Manor.

“Unpleasant, isn't it?” Remy asked, sounding apologetic. “I know it's not a comfort right now, but you will get used to it as you get older. By the time you learn to apparate, the most you'll feel is that pressure around you.”

Harry didn't know how to respond to that and simply shrugged his shoulders before following her through the gate (which opened at their approach) and back into the manor.

“Evie?” Remy called out.

There was a popping sound and then a new house-elf in gray and blue appeared. She immediately bowed, which caused the bright yellow kerchief to start slipping off her head until it got caught on her massive ears. When she straightened up, she beamed at the sight of the bags in Remy's arms. “Do you need Evie to take them to your room, miss? And put them away?”

“That would be wonderful. Only the books go to my room. Everything else will go to Harry's,” Remy told her.

Evie nodded quickly and turned her attention to Harry. “Evie will organize them very nicely, young sir! If it's not to your liking you can call for Evie or Cici and we'll come help!”

“Oh, um, thank you, Evie. I'm sure you'll do great.” Harry wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say, but Evie didn't look upset as she bounced over to take the bags. Once she had them in her arms, she popped away without another word.

“Tonight I think we'll burn your hand-me-downs,” Remy said conversationally. “But for now, you deserve a chance to rest and do whatever you'd like until dinner. Leona still has another hour of tutoring to get through, but Aqua should be free by now. She'll be in the library, if you'd like to find her.”

Harry needed a refresher on how to get there and once Remy gave him directions on the easiest path to take – up the main staircase to the second floor, take a left and go to the end of the hall, where you take another left, and enter the second door on the right – he set off to find Aquarius.

Just like Remy said, she was sitting in the library in a squishy armchair beneath one of the windows, a heavy looking book open in her lap. Aquarius looked up when she heard the door open and beamed when she spotted Harry peeking inside.

“You're back! And you're not wearing any glasses?”

Harry grinned at her as he stepped fully into the library. “I don't need them anymore.”

“Brilliant!” Aquarius responded. “You have a letter, by the way. Butternut brought a response from your friend while you were away.”

Harry looked to the side table where she gestured and saw a envelop sitting there. When he walked over and picked it up, he found himself recognizing Hermione's tidy handwriting and eagerly ripped it open to see what she wrote.

Dear Harry,

I'm so glad to hear you're alright! Ron and I were terribly worried that something awful happened to you once you got home. Please thank Aquarius for sending me the letter saying that you're safe with her and Leona. She says that you're not going back to your muggle relatives. Is it true? Did they do something to keep you from receiving letters? I know you are all looking into what happened, but I think I'll do some research of my own and see what I can find. I'll keep you updated!

I've talked to my parents about visiting you this summer and they have agreed to it, though they'd like to talk to Leona's mum about it first. I think they want to make sure it's alright with her. Will Ron be joining us as well? He hasn't mentioned any visiting, but it does sound like the Weasley's have a full house anyway and I would hate to add to that. I think meeting up at Diagon Alley would be a far better idea, especially since it would let my parents meet the Weasley's. They didn't get much time to talk at King's Cross.

It probably won't surprise you but I've done quite a lot of reading so far this summer. Most of my homework is already complete, except for that essay on goblin wars that Binns assigned. I must admit, even I find it a bit droll and difficult to complete. All I can hear is his voice droning on. If you'd like, we can review our summer studies together when I visit! And please tell Leona that I've finished the books she recommended. I suppose I should just write a letter to her instead of using you as a personal owl.

What's Oakstone Manor like? It must be exciting to see a wizarding home!

Hermione's letter carried on like that as she wrote about whatever came to mind. She spoke a little of her parents and how excited they were to hear about her first year at Hogwarts and then went into more detail of how she spent her summer when she wasn't studying or reading. Every now and then she'd circle around to ask him a question about what it was like living with Leona. Was there a library? Had he had time to do any of the summer homework?

There was only one reference to Professor Quirrel, who had disappeared sometime before the End-of-Term feast, and that was to say there was a small article in the prophet about there being a warrant for his arrest and how any sightings should be immediately reported to the DMLE.

Harry wondered if Tonks knew anything about that. Would they be able to tell him anything if they did?

He folded up the letter and stuck it into his pocket, resolving to answer Hermione when he had time later. “Reading anything interesting, Aquarius?”

She silently tilted her book so he could read the cover and Harry was delighted to find he could see the words without having to squint. The Complete Beginners Guide to Potion Brewing was the name of her book and Harry wondered just how in-depth it went to make it so it was at least five centimeters thick.

“Leo says that Professor Snape will probably look for any reason to take points from me or give me detention, so I thought if I start studying now then he won't be able to find as many,” she explained with an easy shrug.

There was something about the idea of Snape harassing Aquarius that rankled Harry. She was a ten-year-old girl who hadn't done a thing wrong and she was already prepared to be utterly humiliated by one of her professors, who took issue with who her parents were.  It was bad enough that Snape targeted him and Neville – though he still didn't know why he demonstrated such loathing towards Neville.

Instead of saying anything, Harry left Aquarius to her reading and took a seat in a nearby chair to check out his two new books. The first one he grabbed was the one on Camelot, which reminded him of a question he had.

“Hey, Aquarius? Do you know of anyone called 'ML Black' who might be related to you?”

“Not in recent history,” Aquarius said slowly. “It does sound familiar, so there must be someone with those initials on the family tree. Why do you ask?”

“They wrote this book I found. The Magical Court of Camelot – the Truth Behind the Legends,” Harry told her.

Aquarius marked her page and set it aside, her eyes alight with interest. “And it's written by a Black?”

Harry nodded.

“Follow me!” Aquarius said, hopping up out of her chair.

Feeling a little bewildered, Harry left his things in his seat and got up to follow her through the tall shelves of the library and to a spot tucked away in a back corner. There was a heavy, navy blue curtain hanging across an elaborate archway and stepping through revealed a rounded alcove. Candles on either side of the arch lit themselves when they stepped through, illuminating the nearly black walls to reveal a massive tree painted in silver ink, its branches rigid and following a clear structure.

Most notably, it was upside down, with the base of its trunk resting where the wall met the ceiling.

“This is the Black Family Tree, which dates back to our earliest magical ancestor, Ambroise Fabron,” she said, pointing up to the top. “They were blacksmiths. He brought his knowledge of the craft to the magical world and then applied enchantments to make it even better. His greatest achievement was a charm embedded within cookware that made it easier to clean without repeatedly using scourgify.”

Harry's brows knitted together. “But that means... he was muggleborn?”

“If you go far back enough in a pureblood line, you'll find many muggleborns. It just didn't matter as much back then,” Aquarius said. She reached out and placed her hand on the wall, waiting for the space to light up silver before dragging her hand down. As she did so, the tree scrolled down until the trunk was nearly eye-level with them and the rest of the branches danced across the floor.

“Ambroise had three children. Two were girls who married into other lines and the other was a son, Michel, who continued the name Fabron and took up his father's work...” Aquarius continued to move down the three, explaining a little more about what little they still knew about their ancestors, until she came to Michel's third son, Célestin, who moved to the UK and changed his surname to Black before going on to revolutionize the production of cauldrons. “Oh! Harry, here she is! Mnemosyne Lucinda Black! She married Célestin! No wonder the name sounded familiar!”

“There could be another ML Black somewhere,” Harry pointed out.

“There could be,” Aquarius agreed. “But considering she was born in the seven-hundreds, I think it's probably her. It's too bad the tree doesn't list maiden names. I would have loved to know which family line she came from but I don't think any of our records have it listed. We can always ask Leo or Andy.”

Harry almost wanted to continue looking at the family tree to see if there was anyone else, but there were so many names. Not to mention Aquarius had a good point about the timeline. Mnemosyne would have been born close enough to the era of King Arthur's reign that she could gather correct details about that period. Maybe the book itself would have something in it to confirm his thoughts.

Aquarius released the magic that lowered the tree, allowing it to move back to its correct location across the wall. “I bet the Potter manor has a tree showing all of your ancestors too. You must be excited to go see it.”

“I hadn't thought much about it, to be honest,” Harry admitted. “Haven't had the time.”

There was a lot he suddenly had to think about and he wished he had the first clue where to start. Maybe if he had a moment to himself, he could slow down to think things through.

“If you want some time to yourself, you don't need to stay here with me in the library,” Aquarius said, sounding sympathetic.

“You don't want to look at the book?” Harry asked.

Aquarius shook her head. “It's yours to read first. I may take a look around and see if we have a copy on one of the shelves. Its likely, since it was written by a Black.” She pushed the curtain aside and then walked through, continuing to hold it for Harry as he followed.

After a bit of thought, Harry remained with Aquarius in the library and the two sat silently read their books until Leona came to fetch them for dinner.

“Hey, bookworms, it's time to eat!”

She grinned at the pair of them when they looked up, both surprised at how much time had passed. While Aquarius marked her page and set her book aside to read later, Harry put his back in his bag so he could take it to his room after dinner.

“How were your lessons, Leo?” Aquarius asked.

“Dull,” Leona responded with a groan. “Andy has me practicing with old speeches so I know how to properly present myself during Wizengamot meetings. It's important, sure, but I can't think of anything more boring.”

“History of Magic,” Harry responded immediately.

“The Annual Yule Ball at Malfoy manner,” Aquarius supplied cheekily.

“Brats,” Leona said affectionately. “Yeah, you might be right. Those are both pretty boring as well.”

Harry almost asked about the Yule Ball, wondering what it was and whether or not he'd be expected to attend it as well, but Leona changed the subject before he could say anything.

“Mum and Andy say that you'll officially start lessons tomorrow, Harry. She wants to go over a few things before you go back to Gringotts and talk to the holder for the Potter accounts. Mostly etiquette and stuff so you don't accidentally insult someone. Easy stuff,” Leona said with a shrug.

Harry hoped she was right about that. There was so much he felt like he didn't know. Stuff that Leona and Aquarius spent their entire lives learning and experiencing. He felt hopelessly behind compared to them.

Was it the same at school? How many of his peers had he unintentionally affronted with his behavior and language? It never seemed to matter that much in Gryffindor, but was that because he spent most of his time with Ron and Hermione?

Harry resolved to do better.

- - - - - - -

Andromeda smiled as she watched her family merrily converse over dinner.

Ted and Remy were in the middle of a rousing discussion on experimental medicines; a topic she hadn't expected Remy to show much interest in knowledge in, but the younger woman seemed to be holding her own even as Ted delved into more advanced potions.

The kids were all at the other end of the table with Leona and Nymphadora leading most of the conversation while Aquarius made comments and Harry primarily listened. Every now and then laughter would break out and Harry would grin, bright and carefree, and Andromeda was reminded of the way he was treated by his relatives and how glad she was to have gotten him out of there.

Dinner went well until just before dessert, when Milla popped into the room and got Andy's attention with a single tap on the arm.

“A guest has arrived, Miss. Milla be telling them it is rude to intrude over dinner but they insisting.”

“Thank you, Milla,” Andromeda said as she gently set aside her utensils. She patted her mouth with a cloth napkin and then excused herself from the table with a soft apology. She briskly walked to the foyer and made sure to compose herself before entering the room.

Standing near the door was an old man with a long beard and twinkling periwinkle robes.

“Albus,” Andromeda cordially greeted. “It is considered rude to visit during dinnertime.”

He met her aloofness with a polite smile. “I do apologize, Lady Tonks, however there was no other time I could get away and there is something of grave importance that I must discuss with you.”

Andromeda arched one eyebrow. “Oh? And what is so important that you would arrive completely unannounced and interrupt a family meal?”

“It has come to my attention that you removed Harry Potter from the care of his Aunt and Uncle. You have to understand how important it is that he remain with them,” Albus told her. “There are blood wards in place around their residence. So long as he calls Privet Drive home, he will be protected from those in our world who would do him harm.”

Andromeda had a myriad of choices before her. She could play along with his little game, letting him try and garner sympathy for his actions. She didn't doubt that he genuinely thought he was doing the right thing, but she wouldn't stand there and allow him to speak up in defense of those horrid muggles.

“Harry will not be returning to that place and especially not by your hand.”

“My dear-”

“No,” she interrupted firmly. “You have no right to determine where he lives. You had no right to send him to those people; the only people who Lily herself specified he was never to go to. We have heard their Will, Albus. The boy will stay with his Magical Guardian and there is nothing that you nor anyone else can do to change that.”

Andromeda stepped back, never once taking her eyes off of Dumbledore. “Bastion!”

With a pop, a house-elf appeared. He was clad in the same gray and blue as the others, but he bore the Black Family shield across the back of his shirt and carried a tiny dagger on the belt around his waist. He bowed to Andromeda.

“How may Bastion help?”

“Please escort the Headmaster from the property and place a ban on the wards to prevent him from returning without permission,” Andromeda instructed.

Albus looked pained by her words, but politely inclined his head and went without a fuss, leaving Andromeda to stand in the foyer by herself. A few minutes later she felt a slight shift in the wards. Only then did she feel comfortable returning to the table.

“Everything alright?” Ted quietly asked as she sat down.

Andromeda nodded. “Nothing to worry about, dear. Just an issue that needed to be handled sooner rather than later.”

She would tell him and Remy more about their guest later. For the moment, she wanted to sit and enjoy dessert with her family.