#anyway… those vault tracks changed my fucking life

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Can’t believe there are people in this world who don’t love Jack Antaoff, he’s my little baby boy and he’s never done wrong by me

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

real! I used to love her (ts) but she feels very different than she used to. I’ve listened to phoebe bridgers a bit, she was good just not the type of music I usually listen to. Boy genius and Lucy Dacus are both amazing tho. They for sure deserved to win Aoty, or sia

sorry for how long this got??? i just started writing and oh whoops....

anyway- THATS what ive been saying about her unfortunately. its like after folklore/evermore things genuinely changed because of all the fame and popularity. people werent criticizing her anymore and instead overly praising her.

which isnt bad! i do think she deserves praise over folklore. the marketing of it being a suprise album was very clever too. but i think before those folklore there was a sense of criticism that people had with her music that kept her wanting to innovate it.

i have a strong believe that social media's algorithms are failing artists to innovate pop music in the same way than 00's pop music did just because of how much less artists have to lose now with their brandings. i once again bring up artpop by lady gaga and how much she lost for her idea???? and now??? gaga was really fucking killing it. her music had such creativity and passion put into it that you can SEE her drive in that. (also to know i didnt understand artpop as an album until MUCH later in my life)

but taylors lack of needing to innovate her sound due to her popularity and lack of criticism really has just shown how much her music has come to decline in quality. if you see the transition between fearless and speak now. those two albums. she TOOK the criticism that she "couldnt write her own songs" and literally flipped that narrative to write that entire album herself. and to me? arguably speak now is MY favorite taylor album.

and the transition between speak now to red to 1989 to reputation. theres SO much that happened in that sense of time. theres different sounds that make those albums what they are. 1989 was such a creative endeavor for her because it was her first step into pop music. i think was also her first time working with jack? now people say her decline on music is his fault as a producer but i dont believe his role had gotten bad until midnights. (i saw people discussing clairo's sling album because he produced it. but THEYRE WRONG. SLING IS GOOD AND HIS ERA OF BAD PRODUCING HAPPENED IN 2023(?) i forget when midnights came out ugh thats how many taylor albums we have gotten ffs)

but the breakaway and challenge 1989 gave really set up for reputation. she disappeared because of all the hate. and i think while I DONT SUPPORT that type of treatment because no one should go through that type of mental low... that really set her into a space to create more fluidly and with more passion?

lover- people will say was a flop.. and ill admit too... cruel summer?? shouldve never ever became a single. it was better as a hidden gem. but lover was good for the majority of songs!! there's still passion in it.

it was just that after folklore/evermore it felt very.... underwhelming and not like her at all. the quality slipped so so off the page. it just feels very recycled and unnecessary. especially like i said the fandom doesnt help with overconsumtion and she really truly should use her platform for more. the economy being in shambles and yet she wants to charge $700 for a concert ticket. (nothing bad if like someone WANTS to go but its genuinely ridiculous because inflation shouldnt BE like that).

not to even cover merch??? why is it so high?? shouldnt you want it to be accessible to your fans since you have so many?? vinyl prices are ridiculous but WHY is a hoodie almost $100. im sorry but like why 😭. cant we just charge $60 again?????

anyway all that to say that after the evermore era her music genuinely slipped off. im just thankful that the speak now rerecord didnt get BOTCHED as high hell. i have opinions about the vault tracks because the entire reason was to include tracks from that era and yet its like your smearing shit onto a perfectly wonderful painting and saying "look yall!! i added to this!!" wrong. wrong wrong wrong. idk. 1989's vault tracks just made me mad. it felt so unlike the vibe of what 1989 was???? and slut was NOT written at the time of 1989. come on.

timeless though off of the rerecord for speak now.... i will defend that one with my honor. i genuinely am glad speak now's vault tracks didnt get horrible treatment. i like that she kept the solo writing with the entire album. adding on fob and hayley's collabs as a callback because i really remember seeing videos of her singing sugar were going down and thats what you get during the speak now tour. it just felt like a full circle moment for that. fob's collab couldve been better but im glad it wasnt like... bad.

stilllll think matty's collab couldve been iconic on slut. even if i hate 1989's vault tracks as a whole... the 1975 does have good music. I KNOW. controversial yeah. anyway. hes got talent tho.

i found phoebe during 2020 when i was listening to a bunchhh of different artists (the 1975 too yeah). but punisher found me and i used to not be able to sleep due to anxiety/insomnia back then and i would listen to that album for months to just SLEEP.

i have a closeee bond with it. its like my favorite if not a close second of my favorite album of all time. its just really interesting?? also really valid that its not your type of music either. i just hold her stuff close. also did a english assignment on smoke signals' lyrics. i remember that. i got to say "fuck the cops" in the assignment and felt very proud of myself LMAO.

in terms of lucy- i for some reason never have gotten around to listening to her stuff?? even though i know i need to and should?? i just always somehow forget. many people have told me to but oh man i forget.

glad we can agree that they deserved album of the year btw.

sorry for the LENGTHY reply but yeah!! i might be forgetting to talk about something but askinf about my special interests (music) will always give you a lengthy answer.

[oh-my-damn]

the fact that you’ve still yet to give us your thoughts on each 1989 TV track

BESTIE IVE BEEN WAITING SINCE THE 27TH I WANNA DISCUSS

BABE WDYM

OKAY

MY THOUGHTS

YES

OKAY

I WILL GATHER THEM (will I though??? probably not!!!!)

I want to preface this rant with the fact that 1989 was never a fave of mine. I enjoyed it, I liked it, but Reputation will always be my go to. I will always adore and live for Reputation. HOWEVER. 1989 TV did a SOLID.... and I mean SOLID attempt at stealing my heart. Parts of my heart now lives in that album and it did not before !!! I love the new sound. I don't care what anyone else says, this shit SLAPS.

anyway, onto the songs:

IS IT OVER IS MY FAVE TRACK

Bad blood with kendrick?! changed my life I AM LEGIT LISTENING TO IT AS WE SPEAK

I know places with that new WE RUN part??? I died. deceased.

Welcome to New York has this new vibe to it that I am LIVING FOR. Literally walking home from work in the big city I live in and looking up into the sky and wanting to scream those damn lyrics

THE VAULT TRACKS ON THIS ALBUMS ARE THE BEST WE'VE EVER GOTTEN

This is excluding "You're Losing Me" which we didn't truly get 🙄 I legit praise myself everyday for downloading it as MP3 when it first came out because lorrrdddd how dare she not give it to us after it was leaked????

ANYWAY

SLUT! ?!?!?!? A VIBE

SAY DONT GO ????? SUCH A VIBE

SUBURBAN LEGENDS ???? YES. VIBE. YES.

NOW THAT WE DONT TALK ??? I DIED. DEAD. RIP ME.

IN CONCLUSION

This album made me see 1989 in a whole new light and I actually LOVE IT now when I didn't before

So the haters can go fuck themselves on this one

MOTHER SERVED

[sexy-opium-ravioli]

hiya!!! mind writing a fern x gender neutral! reader scenario? maybe the reader is a wizard n they need to get some stuff from a dungeon, so fern comes with n they both have some fun moments together!! maybe its vault of bones styled? thank u!!! [also btw, the anon button is off!!]

Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! Anon feature is now switched on babes, so feel free to send in requests to my decrepit, dank and dusty inbox.

Anyways, here you go!! I hope you enjoy you freakin honey bun.

This work has vulgar language, moderate, nondescript violence and descriptions of menstruation and endometriosis. Dw, reader is still gender neutral.

Note: This and other works (unless directly specified) are to be as inclusive as possible. If there is any sort of undue coding for any race, gender or sexuality that has not been requested, please tell me! :)

Title: Dungeons and Fern

Considering how many things there were in Ooo, one would think that there could be a cure-all potion for cripplingly low self-esteem. Or, at least some sort of medication for said problem.

Alas, Glob was more detail oriented than goal oriented. You could see sentient mountains whining at violence and grow rock-scale skin from drinking gruel, but intrinsic personal problems? Those were still a mystery.

You wish you could give Fern a potion to make him happy. A tincture for all the wounds eyes cannot see. You feel like your boyfriend has done so much for you, and seeing your favorite grass man spiral does a number on your own self-esteem, to be honest.

Anyways, that's codependency for another day. Right now, a dungeon needed exploring.

A cave. A little darkness, and then, light. Being a wizard was handy sometimes. Fire in your palm, you lit the way.

Walls were lined with red words, little orange cones and yellow stripes on the ground that were just at the threshold of ditches with long, metal tubes. You knew what trains were, but the trains down here looked more like metal coffins. They were eerie. So were all the skeletons at your feet.

You looked back at Fern. You smiled, and he blushed. His eyebrows were furrowed.

Ah! A map, how handy. It wasn't too hard to figure out, too!

'You Are Here,' Follow the red dot, and then the blue line, and you could get where you're going. You jumped into the pit, and vanished into the dark tunnels. Fern trailed behind you.

"You're quiet today. Anything wrong?" It was a hushed question you spoke. There was A Vibe in these old tunnels you did not want to mess with too badly. After awhile, you learned to appreciate them, all the colorful graffiti scrawled on them too.

"I'm evil," His words crept to your ears like perfume. It was there, and then gone.

"We've been over this. You're not,"

"There's literally a demon inside of me," A little louder this time. Perfume turned to smoke.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around fast enough to see Fern's pupils still having to adjust to the lighting change. There was a moment of tenseness you both felt, slightly predatory and preylike on both ends.

"That demon does not constitute who your whole self is. A part of you is formed by the new experiences you go through, and some of that in your personality is completely isolated from what you've been born as," Your wizard mind liked to go on tangents and force your mouth to voice them. Sometimes they helped Fern in his journey, and sometimes they did not.

He still looked conflicted, damn.

"I'm evil," Smoke turned into a thick fog.

"Prove it, kill me." A gamble, sure. But you knew your bet had won when Fern's face went from anger to shock.

"I-I'd never!-" His voice got a lot higher when you said quick stuff like that. When you disarmed his defenses in less than a second. To be fair, you do the same thing when roles are reversed.

"Then you aren't evil, dingus. C'mon," You grabbed his hand, interlaced his fingers with yours, and gave him a kiss. You always liked how his grassy lips tickled yours. He's such a sweet man, how you've fallen in love with him. "Let's go explore the rest of this stupid station,"

...

'Oh my GLOB what the FUCK is that-' This is your first thought. There is no time for a second.

The thing, made of shiny steaming hot tar swung at you. You had enough wits to dodge, but you still screamed in terror while doing it.

Fern was immediately at your side. A grass sword, mighty and green as he, grew out of his arm and before one could blink, a chunk of tar monster was separated from the host.

'Tar, tar, dude what spell is even good against tar?' This was the forefront of your thoughts against the backdrop of Fern holding the thing at bay.

"Hey, babe, mind retreating for like three seconds? Gonna teleport this thing to the Fire Kingdom," Such important words spoken in such a casual tone. There was a moment where Fern wondered how much life you had been though to earn such eccentricity in such a stressful situation. He loved you.

When Fern stepped away, you did as you said. The last thing you heard before closing the portal was a fire guard screaming "What the GLOB-"

"...I, I didn't go too far this time, did I?" His voice, back to perfume.

"No! No, not at all!" You gave him a forehead kiss that he would appreciate more than you would ever know.

You both giggled to yourselves before continuing.

...

"Ah! Finally!" The joy in your voice was palpable enough to grab out of the air and eat. Fern turned towards you and-

"...Train tickets?" There was a hint of annoyance in there. You simply knew it.

"Yeah, I know, right?" You chuckled nervously before continuing, "I need it for a potion for Marceline. Endometriosis is really a fucker sometimes and this can help with that,"

You both walked in silence as you felt sunlight on your faces. Smelling fresh air after breathing in so much stale made you feel a special type of joy. "That really wasn't too much for you? I know you need to photosynthesize every once in awhile and I just don't want-" He kissed you. It was your turn for your face to get warm.

This silence was peaceful, as you two walked to your home in the forest. It overlooked grassy plains and was just at the edge of a thick line of trees.

"My love?"

"Yeah?" You adored his nicknames for you.

"What's endometriosis?"

[sodalitefully]

It’s hazardous to breathe... [GNR Mad Max AU, pt. 1]

This is the first half of a AU inspired by the movie Mad Max: Fury Road that @smokeandmirrorz and I came up with after he posted some awesome art for a Mad Max AU!  This oneshot very loosely follows the plot of the movie, it may make less sense if you haven’t seen the film. I split it into two parts so it would be more readable on tumblr, the second part is here and the whole fic is also on AO3.

*Contains mpreg, character death, and plenty of unpleasant things from the Mad Max universe, including implied/referenced sexual violence, some regular violence/gore (more so in the second part), and Immortan Joe.*

----

It wasn't often that the wives were brought outside their chamber.  Less often still that Steven got to be present when they were – so he considered himself lucky to be in the same room when the Immortan's only surviving wife emerged from the biodome to watch Immortan Joe send off his top Imperator on a mission to recruit more valuable full-lives after the untimely deaths of his other two wives.  

It was a little known truth that Steven and Slash had history.  'Little known,' because if the Immortan caught wind that the two had become close when Slash was first brought to the Citadel and Steven was just a War Pup, he would be toast.  As little as they'd talked in the years since then, Steven still considered Slash... if not a friend, at least an acquaintance.  And that's more than he could say about his fellow War Boys.

Being allowed in the same room as Slash was the first step to reigniting their friendship. Now, if only Slash would acknowledge him...

"Steven." Slash's voice was barely loud enough to hear.

"Yes?" Steven perked up, encouraged that Slash hadn't forgotten about him after all.  

"I need you to do something for me."  Steven nodded eagerly.  "I need you to go to Imperator Stradlin, and tell him to come visit me as soon as possible.  Can you do that?"

"Of course.  Anything for the Immortan!"

It wasn't for the Immortan, but Steven didn't need to know that.

"One more thing – It's top secret.  You can't say a word to anyone else, alright?"

--

Getting to the wive's chamber wasn't hard for Izzy: all he had to do was convince the guards he was on official business, and then once he was inside the vault, the soundproof walls would take care of the rest.  All the same, he did not have a good feeling about this "meeting."  Whatever was going on, it was going to be trouble...

The thick vault door swung open, revealing a scene straight out of a dream, so serene it seemed impossible that it could exist in the same world as things like gas wars, and tumors, and the Wasteland.

Sunlight streamed through huge semi-opaque windows and illuminated the smooth sandstone walls.  Green plants and relics of the old world surrounded a pool of crystal-clear water.  And in the center of it all, clothed in the purest white, was the Immortan's most prized treasure:

"Slash... the Desired."

"Imperator."  The wife looked him dead in the eye; his hair was restrained in a ponytail and draped with the same white fabric as the rest of his body.  It was the first time Izzy had ever seen Slash's face completely clear of dark curls, and the first time he'd seen him with enough clothing to cover the rest of his skin.  

“Why did you ask me to come here? Does Joe want something from me?”

Slash’s mouth twitched into a frown at the name, but he responded in a carefully level tone:

“I have a proposition for you.”

Izzy raised an eyebrow. What could a wife possibly have to offer him? Besides the obvious, of course, and that... that was more trouble than it was worth.

“I can’t stay here any longer,” Slash explained.

“You’re crazy if you think he’ll just let you leave,” Izzy replied with a startled laugh. It was inconceivable, but Slash was looking at him with complete sincerity.

“He won’t. But you want to leave too.”

“Do I?” He did, but Slash definitely wasn’t supposed to know that.  

“Please, you hate it here, it’s obvious.  You want to leave, and I want you to take me with you."

“Fucking hell – don't you think I would have left by now if I could?  And why would I help you anyway?  How do I know you're not just testing my loyalty to the Immortan?"

"Don't be ridiculous.  Me, doing favors for Joe?"

"Alright, fine. Then what if I betray you? I could be rewarded for... keeping the Immortan's property safe."  

"What if I tell everyone you took advantage of the Immortan's absence to take his one and only wife for a test drive?"

"Fuck. You're not as pure as we've been led to believe, are you?"

Slash snorted.  "Not by half."

"But that doesn't change anything.  The Immortan would rip my throat out with his horse teeth for trying to steal one of his breeders –"

“Don’t call me that!” Slash snapped.

For a moment, Izzy was reminded of a younger Slash, fresh from the Wasteland and ready to bite at anything that got too close.

But Slash quickly composed himself, trying and not entirely succeeding to recapture an air of calm assertiveness.  "Look, just... Just think about it, alright?  We have a chance, I know we do, and really... How much more of this do you think you can take?"

Izzy sighed. "I'll think about it," he conceded.  

"Thank you."

Slash did his best to hide his disappointment, and Izzy wasn't about to stick around and make things worse by trying to console him.  He turned around to leave the wives' sanctum, but hesitated before he reached the doorway.

"Slash... What really happened to the other Wives?"

"One... One miscarried. The Immortan wasn’t happy about that. The other tried to..." his lips faltered at the worst profanity in the Citadel, "... abort her pregnancy, it didn't end well. The Organic Mechanic couldn't do anything but give her something for the pain.  They give us a serum, sometimes, to help us sleep.  I gave her my dose."

--

The scouting party brought back a feral! they said.  Full-life and raving mad, driving an Interceptor, can you believe it?

No, Izzy couldn't believe it.  Couldn't believe that Axl Rose, MFP legend turned Road Warrior, could get taken down by a pack of half-dead War Boys.  But the proof was in front of him, shivering in a cage, starving and in dire need of a shave.  

"...I-Izzy?"

His voice was exactly the same as it always was, the respirator that Izzy cobbled together a lifetime ago couldn't hide the low timber that sometimes still appeared in his dreams.  

He'd made a mistake when he thought he could play it safe at the Citadel.  He should have listened when Axl told him they were better off on their own.  The Citadel was a shrine to depravity, and he wouldn't let Axl become another one of its victims – he needed to get them out of the tower walls and far away as soon as possible. It would be a challenge to escape unnoticed... but Izzy knew the perfect distraction.  

--

"I'll make a deal with you, Slash."

Slash didn't have the decency to look shocked when Izzy barged into the biodome uninvited – or the decency to put on the thin white shirt that lay discarded on the floor.

Actually, Izzy was the one looking shocked when his eyes fell on Slash’s bare belly and his carefully planned proposition died in his throat.

“What’s the deal?” Slash asked, but Izzy was more concerned with his unfortunate new realization:

“You didn’t tell me you were pregnant! What were you thinking, asking me to help you? The Immortan is going to shred me to pieces!”

“He’d shred you anyway, this won’t change anything,” Slash gritted out. Pregnant or not, there was no way he was about to let Izzy back out, not now. “What’s the deal, Stradlin?”

Izzy hated to be caught off guard, but he could use this to their advantage.  Joe would never risk hurting a potential heir, making Slash an even better shield than before.  And once he and Axl split off, there was no way Joe would waste time and resources going after a twice-disgraced Imperator and a feral bloodbag before he got his pregnant wife back, giving them a valuable head start – if it came to that.

"I'll take you with me on my next supply run.  Ten days from now.  We'll go to the Buzzards' territory, trade guzzoline for another vehicle.  Then we part ways, got it?  I'll get you out of here but I'm not babysitting you or your sprog for the rest of my life."

"You don't want to get caught with me, you mean.  Stopping to deal with the Buzzards will give the Immortan time to catch up to us.  I'm fucked on my own."

Izzy didn't respond, and tried to look like it didn't matter to him whether Slash took his offer.

"Fine.  If they catch up... At least I'll die historic on the Fury Road," Slash said with a sardonic smile.  "But I have a request – I need you to find me a driver.  Someone who doesn't serve the Citadel, someone no one will notice is missing."

"There is no one like that."

"Really?  All those people down there, and none of them can operate a car?"

"If they could, they wouldn't be there."

"There must be someone," Slash insisted.  Izzy sighed.

"I'll see what I can do in ten days.  But what the hell do you need them for?"

"Well... I can't drive."

--

On his third visit, Izzy had spent enough time in the biodome to say that stepping inside the pristine vault always made him feel like a dirty rag, used to wipe away sweat and grime then left out to stiffen in the dusty waste.  

But if he was a dirty rag, then Duff was roadkill.  He was a half-life, one of the Wretched who clung to the sides of the Citadel like barnacles, bathing in dust while the Immortan bathed in Mother's Milk.  He was lanky – no, skeletal, nothing but sunburned skin and bone.  He carried the Wasteland with him wherever he went, tracking dust with each step.  Izzy bit down on the irrational urge to warn him not to touch anything in the vault.

The black leather collar around his neck marked him as a former denizen of Gas Town, one who had likely outlived his usefulness if his rickety prosthetic leg and the cluster of nasty tumors half-hidden by his hair had anything to say about it.  Clearly, he was in no shape to labor in the refinery.  Rumor had it that The People Eater was a cannibal – as his name suggested – but evidently Duff had escaped that fate, perhaps because he had no meat on his bones to speak of, and instead sought out clean water, abundant food, and fresh air at the Citadel.  Hah.

Slash stared at them over his shoulder, wide-eyed and seated in the shallow pool in the center of the room.  Tiny bottles lined the edge of the pool, and the scent of flowers wafted in the air.

"A bath? Now, really?"

"It might be the last chance I get," Slash countered, but he rose from the water, the beads on his skin already drying in the inescapable desert heat.  Izzy averted his eyes as Slash wrapped a length of gauzy white cloth around his waist, tugged a loose shirt over his head, and bent forward to twist another cloth around his damp hair.  Then, finally, he turned to face his guests. "Is this...?"

"This is Duff, the Wretched.  Not a War Boy.  He came from Gas Town, so he can drive."

"Good."  Duff was staring at Slash like a mirage, but Slash knew how to get on a person's good side: "Do you want some water, Duff?"

--

"How the fuck did you get in here?!" In a heartbeat, Izzy's handgun was aimed at the War Boy's head.  He saw movement out of the corner of his eye.  "Slash, get away from him."

"No! You can't kill Steven!"

"He knows too much, he's a liability.  Kill him and let's go," Axl advised.

"No! Stradlin, who even is this guy?" Slash demanded, but once again, he received no explanation.  

"Slash, what's going on, where are you going? Please don't leave me!"

"Steven, I –"

"Take me with you! I can help!"

"Slash, I'm serious.  Step away." Izzy inched closer, his gun unwavering.  War Boys were unpredictable, Kami-crazy.  You never knew what they might do when backed into a corner.  

But Slash was crazier – he pushed Steven back, placing himself between Izzy and his target.  Izzy recognized the steely glint in his eyes before Slash even spoke: "He's coming with us."

--

They were curled up in the hold of the War Rig, surrounded by food and supplies that would never make it to Gas Town like they were supposed to.  Duff was happily munching away at a carrot, and Slash was sitting with his legs curled up to his chest.

"Are you scared?" Duff asked.

"... Yes," Slash admitted, barely audible over the roaring engine.  "Are you?"

"No."

"Why not?  If we get caught, you'll be punished too, for helping me.  And he doesn't care about taking you alive."

Duff shrugged.  "It doesn't really matter, does it?  I've got a few months left, at best."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be.  I've had my whole life to come to terms with it.  Well, half-life."

It was a terribly morbid joke, but Slash still laughed.

“So... You’re not afraid of anything, then?”

“Well, I don’t know – When Izzy brought me to you, I was scared. It was like he’d taken me out of the real world and dropped me in a fantasy. I thought if I touched anything, I’d destroy it; if I spoke, I’d break the spell and wake up in the Wasteland, half dead with a crow pecking at my tongue. I thought if I got too close to you, I'd pass on my illness, and if I looked at you too long, I'd go mad and start believing in things like beauty and health and the goodness of humanity."

Slash could have laughed at the momentous gap between Duff's perception of the biodome and his own.  Instead, when Duff finished his recollection, Slash crawled across the middle of the hold and pressed himself against Duff's side.  

Duff tried to scoot away, but Slash entangled him with the soft touch of fine cloth and uncalloused hands. He wrapped his arms around Duff’s thin torso and laid his head on his shoulder.

“No, don't go.  You don't have to be scared, Duff...  You're the cleanest person to touch me in a long time."

Hesitantly, Duff reached up and let his good hand rest on Slash’s back. Slash’s hair brushed against his collar, even softer than his clothes, and when Duff breathed deeply he could still make out the sweet scent that filled the room when they first met.

For a moment, Duff let himself get lost in the fantasy world that still surrounded Slash, even in the hold of the War Rig, miles from the Citadel. He could forget about the danger they were in, the cruelty they’d experienced, and even the ticking time bombs in his own flesh.

“Do you think your baby will survive?”

“I don’t know.” Slash didn’t sound optimistic, he toyed with his sleeve and avoided Duff’s gaze.

“I’ve never seen a completely healthy baby before, I didn’t think it was possible. But then I saw you, and you’re perfect, so maybe...”

Slash scoffed.

“The Immortan is toxic. He taints everything: the water, the people... and me. If I was ever perfect, I’m sure as hell not anymore, and neither is this baby.”

Duff hugged Slash closer, and slid a hand down to his belly.

“We’ll see.”

----

[part 2]

[mnictasbcl]

Life without death

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 4th: No human lives forever @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson, Markus

Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson, Connor & Markus, hinted Connor/Markus

Additional Tags: Mortality, Existentiality, Fear of Death, Swearing, Gun Violence, Injury, Graphic Injury, Suicidal Thoughts, kind of but it’s there so keep safe readers, Hospitals, Medical, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Connor learns about Hank’s mortality on a mission gone wrong.

 TW: Blood, Graphic gun injury, Slight suicidal thoughts

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

There were some things Connor didn’t like to think about. As an android, it was quite easy to shut away these topics in little boxes in his mind, neatly sorted away.

One of them was Amanda. Of course, that box would open itself up sometimes, despite the fact she and the control she could exert over his programming was gone… it would open itself up and play back images in his mind whilst he went into stasis.

The point of these boxes, however, were to protect himself, and for the most part, they worked. Never in his waking moments would he have to experience the unpleasant feelings they brought.

Of course, never… well, never experiencing them in a perfect world. And the world was far from perfect.

Mortality was another.

He knew he could not die, instead his body would be fractured beyond repair and if he did not upload his memories, he would cease to exist. That’s what the more logical side of his mind tried to argue, anyway.

The side unlocked by deviancy, well, it quivered in the face of fatal danger, it took the fears of no longer experiencing the world, no longer experiencing at all, and locked it away in a vault.

Connor supposed that’s why he’d never even thought to breach the subject of human mortality.

In hindsight, maybe he should have at least acknowledged it.

  _________________

 It was a Monday. Late afternoon, and the weather in Detroit was less than optimal. Rain was pouring down, making every known surface slippery with moisture. Hank, as predicted, was grousing about it.

“Fucking weather. Fucking rain. Fucking criminals.”

Of course, Connor couldn’t deny that it was rather unfortunate they were on their way to a crime scene, a murder that had been committed outside rather than in the comfort of a rain-free building.

“It is rather loud.” He commented, listening to the raindrops hammering onto the roof of the car. “I can’t even hear your music, which is at a few decibels above the recommended levels of—”

“Rain?” Hank scoffed. “I can’t hear it over the stick up your ass.”

Connor pursed his lips, still in the process of reaching to turn down the music. “If I had a proverbial stick up my ass, I don’t believe it would make a sound.”

Hank laughed. Pulling the car into park, he was still chuckling. “I just… can’t get over the sound of you swearing.”

He raised a brow, smirking. “Would you like me to say it again, Lieutenant?”

“Please don’t.”

Hank’s good mood was gone again as they got out of the car, expression souring as the rain pelted down onto his head.

Connor found it was even more troublesome as he crouched down beside the body to analyse it. Whilst a small tent had been set up over it, the rain had already done enough damage to wash away vital evidence.

“All blood on the body belongs to the victim, Caria Moltoz.” He sighed, rubbing his hands on his trousers as he got up. “However, the sample is fresh, and along with evidence shown by the wounds… I don’t think the crime was committed all that long ago. We may still be able to find evidence of the killer on the nearby security feeds.”

Hank nodded, turning to go and find these feeds, before noticing Connor’s LED was swirling yellow, eyes flickering rapidly. He was about to express concern, until the android suddenly turned to him.

“I have accessed the cameras and have reviewed the footage—”

“Of course you have.”

“—and I believe the suspect is not too far away from this location.”

  And so, they made their way to the direction Connor had viewed their suspect going in. They had appeared to duck into a nearby clothes store, which unfortunately was quite large.

“At least we’re getting out of the rain.” Hank sighed in relief as they entered the building, placing his coat on the rack so he didn’t track water all over the store.

Connor shook a little, reminding him of Sumo coming in from a walk after the rain. At Hank’s look, he frowned and placed his own jacket onto the rack. “Apologies, Lieutenant. I forgot I am no longer wearing my Cyberlife jacket. It was waterproof.”

“Looked shit, though.”

He nodded. “I agree.”

 The store was fairly busy, with handfuls of customers here and there. No one had any recollection of a human running inside the store in a hurry, so the suspect must have kept their cool.

Luckily, they were fairly undercover themselves, so it was unlikely the suspect would see them with suspicion and find a way to slip out unnoticed.

“They were wearing a navy blue coat along with dark jeans when I viewed the footage,” Connor whispered to Hank through a stand of clothes which they were pretending to browse through, “but I cannot see anyone of that description in this store.”

Hank nodded, eyes scanning over the room himself, before he spotted something. “Wait here.” he said, taking a black shirt off the hook and making his way towards the changing rooms.

Connor nodded, data piecing together in his mind, forming a conclusion when the older man came back over to him, navy blue coat in his arms along with other items of clothing.

“The suspect changed. Unfortunately, then, I didn’t manage to get a look at their face on the footage, it was covered partially…”

“We’ll get ‘em.”

Deciding it was in their best interest to drop the undercover act, they had the store manager close up briefly, keeping everyone inside for questioning.

“It won’t take long.” Hank placated the disgruntled shoppers.

They made their way through the groups, Connor using his questioning tactics to try and find out who it was. He kept an eye on everyone’s stress levels, including those they weren’t currently talking to, but nothing changed drastically. There were no signs of a killer among them.

“Yeah, thank you for your time.” Connor could tell that Hank was trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone as the shop opened up again. He shared the feeling. They’d spent all this time searching, probably on what would be their best lead to solve this case, and they had nothing.

“Fuck. Well… at least whilst we’re here, I could do with a new coat. This one barely kept the rain out.”

“That’s the spirit, Lieutenant.”

Hank made his way over to the displays, pointing at a brown overcoat. “That looks like it’d suit me. Maybe not the hat, though,” he laughed, pointing to the fedora perched atop the mannequins head. He reached for it, pulling it—

Connor shouted at the same time the mannequin moved, pulling a gun out of the pocket of the brown overcoat, shoving Hank to the side just as the shot went off, and another.

People screamed. The suspect managed to run out of the store, skidding out into the rain, away, away, away…

Connor didn’t move. Why wasn’t he moving? He needed to move. Needed to chase away the…

He groaned. Something flashed in his vision, red and warning. A damaged biocomponent. Huh. Maybe that’s why it hurt.

He was losing thirium, however, it wasn’t fatal, not yet. “Hank, we need to get them, they’re…”

That was strange. Why wasn’t Hank answering? Usually he pushed Connor back to the ground, telling him he’s injured, that he should stay down and wait for him to come back.

But there was nothing.

Panic coursed through his systems. Despite the hot flare that spiked in his side when he moved, he didn’t stop, not until he saw Hank—

Hank, laying beneath him. And there was blood. There was a lot of blood. Red, flowing on the floor, soaking into his coat, staining the fibres and the bits of Sumo hair caught in the fabric—

“Hank!”

He couldn’t focus. He might get repaired, but Hank couldn’t. He… humans didn’t live forever. Would he die? Would Hank die here, on the floor of a clothing store in Detroit, whilst Connor could do nothing to stop it?

The wound. Right. The wound. He grabbed the nearest thing he could find (a scarf) and pressed it against the wound. He had to stop the bleeding. Staunch the flow. Stop Hank from dying—

His grasp was weak. Stupid, it was weak. It was the damn wound in his side, thirium leaking out of it steadily, it was making his hands shake and his brain go fuzzy.

“Hank.” He tried again. The Lieutenant didn’t stir. He could see he was breathing, but was if he stopped? What if he died?

Sirens. Sirens were loud, he noted, hands shaking, blood caking his fingers, getting stuck up his artificial nails. Someone was pulling him away. They seemed comforting, but they were pulling him away from Hank, and their words were distant, sucked away in a vacuum—

“Please, you have to save him,” Connor choked out, “he can’t die—he can’t—”

The hands tugged, and with his fading strength, Connor let them. He hoped they would save Hank. And if they didn’t, he mused internally, blackness creeping in the edges of his vision, the warning messages getting dimmer, then he would like to join him.

    _________________

 The first thing Connor registered upon waking was that he wasn’t dead.

The second thing was that he couldn’t see Hank.

He sat bolt upright, finding himself restrained slightly by a tube attached to his side, along with multiple wires across his body. Connor didn’t register where he was—the sheer panic from before starting to creep back into him.

He tore the wires out, before beginning to tug on the tubing. However, before he could get it dislodged, alarms set off by his disturbance had alerted people to his struggle. Some technicians ran in, shouting something about blue blood. But he couldn’t think about that right now, whatever damage he had sustained; he couldn’t see Hank.

Hank was dead.

Connor pulled on the tubing with more force, only stopping when gentle hands clasped around his arm.

“Connor, you need to calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

The words were steady, despite the situation, filled with comfort, and the voice was familiar.

“Let the technicians plug the wires back in, they’re helping you. Just… easy…”

He couldn’t yet put a name to the voice, but he complied, allowing himself to be eased back onto the bed. If Hank was dead… there was nothing he could do about it anyway.

He stopped his struggling but couldn’t stop the tears slipping from beneath his lashes. His body shuddered minutely, hand scrubbing over his face. As everything became more in focus, he looked up to the voice, and saw Markus.

Markus met his eyes, and his gaze softened. As soon as the technicians were done, he ushered them out of the room before perching on the side of the bed Connor was laying on.

“What’s wrong, Connor?”

He took a breath. Opened his mouth, then closed it again. His thoughts were incoherent. The box was open, tipping its jumbled contents all over his mind, and he couldn’t string the words together. In the end, he mumbled, “Hank.” Voice breaking in the middle of the syllable.

Markus nodded. “I know you must have panicked not seeing him here, but rest assured, he’s safe. You saved him, actually. The shot you blocked would have hit—well,” he softened his words upon seeing Connor’s expression, “you saved his life.”

Connor furrowed his brows, looking down at his hands. They were clean. “But… there was so much—so much blood. Hank’s blood.”

The other android grimaced. “Yes, the wound he sustained did hit some arteries, but nothing major. He will need a fair amount of time to recover, as will you, but he’s stable.”

“That’s… good.” Connor breathed, suddenly feeling the urge to change the subject. “But—recover? I thought my systems would be able to self-heal.”

Markus shrugged. “The technicians said that you will be able to self-heal the damage now given adequate thirium, but because the damage was to a major biocomponent, it will take time.”

He nodded. That made sense. At least it would give him an excuse to stay home with the Lieutenant whilst he recovered.

“He’s lucky he didn’t die. I’m… lucky.” Connor breathed after a moment of thought.

Markus placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “Humans are fragile. That’s why he has you.”

“But one day… I might not…”

“You’re not perfect, Connor.” The RK800 blinked at that, taken aback. “No one is. But you didn’t fail today, and you won’t tomorrow. Besides, Hank is a skilled detective.”

Connor breathed in deeply. Markus’ words made sense. But now the box was tipped out, his mind was rifling through its contents. Mortality.

“Even so, the Lieu—Hank won’t live forever.”

Markus smiled sadly. “No, he won’t.” He agreed. “Someday, neither will we.  But that isn’t what living is about, Connor, not thinking about death.” A pause. “What do you enjoy doing with Hank?”

He thought over it. “I like working on cases with him. But- right, other than work. Well, we do watch movies together in the evenings; he usually ends up falling asleep halfway through them, but it’s—well, it’s endearing. And sometimes he comes along with me when I’m walking Sumo, we stop in the park…” he drifted off into the memory, looking to the ceiling, eyes starting to feel heavy, tired out from the wound and the exertion.

“That’s what life is about, Connor.” Markus said softly, hand moving away from his shoulder, briefly trailing over his forehead and pushing the stray strands of hair to the side. He smiled.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XXIII (Harry Potter xFem!Oc)

A/N: I already finished this book as well and I’m currently writing book three, I’ve never been this professional in my fucking life- Sidenote, I should be doing my school work but I can’t even bother

P.S. If there are any mistakes or something I apologize, I sort of edited this like a month ago but never proofread cause I’m a lazy bastard

Words: 3,207

Warnings: The most glorious fight scene of the whole book

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Five: Gilderoy Lockhart.

She noticed Harry's condition improving after a week. 

He gained weight and slept better because of it, Mrs. Weasley would fix his items of clothing that were a bit too big or sort of messed up and would give them back on his size and no longer ripped.

She could tell he wasn't used to positive attention, let alone coming from two adults that actually cared about him. Emily and Mel were more than happy to have welcomed such a lovely family into their lives.

A week after Harry's arrival they received their Hogwarts' letters listing the new books for their term:

'SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk

Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart

Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart

Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart

Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart

Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart'

"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" Fred said, looking at Harry's letter, "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan - bet it's a witch."

"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents, "Lockhart's books are really expensive..."

"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

Mel and Emily shared a look, maybe if the vault belonged to them fully they would be able to lend them the money they needed, but that vault belonged to the Dumbledore family. Technically, it didn't belong to her at all, she was a child.

"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny, he knew the answer, but he was trying to be kind.

Mel saw the little girl get completely red at Harry's question and looked away, stifling her laughter with food.

"Morning, all," said Percy, "Lovely day."

He was about to sit down when he squealed, holding what it seemed a grey, old bird.

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy, "Finally - he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys."

He took the poor owl and laid it back next to his perch.

'Dear Ron, Mel, and Harry if you're there,

I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl because I think another delivery might finish your one off. I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course-'

"How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation!"

"Shh! Let me finish!"

'-and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? Let me know what's happening as soon as you can.

Love from Hermione.'

"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to today?"

They had planned to go back to the hill where they usually played Quidditch, a safe land where the trees covered enough so the muggles couldn't see them.

Off they went, leaving Percy and Ginny -she hid in her room and said she felt ill, but Mel knew it was because she couldn't be in the same place as Harry long periods of time- and Harry asked why Percy was acting so oddly.

"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.WL.s and he hardly gloated at all."

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing their puzzled looks. "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."

"There's no shame on wanting to be better," Mel scowled him, "there's no need to make others feel bad just because you don't share the same dreams"

"Lady, I'm sorry but if your biggest dream is to have a nice looking grade then you should try to keep looking, cause that's not it"

"Floo what? "

"Powder," Emily took a pinch and showed it to her, "it's faster this way, here," she put it on her daughter's hand, "it's alright, just threw it into the fire and say exactly to where are you heading."

"Watch us first," Fred said, and he took a pinch himself and threw it.

He walked into the green emerald fire and said in a loud voice, "Diagon Alley!"

He vanished.

Mel walked in next, not wanting to stand there and wait for anxiety to grow. She threw the powder and stepped in, the memory of the time she walked through flames with Harry made her panic a little, but she shook her head, almost yelling:

"Diagon Alley!"

She felt her body being pushed down onto the ground, but the floor was gone and a lot of images passed in front of her eyes making her dizzy, she was unable to move and didn't try to, scared of hurting herself she hoped it would stop on its own.

And it did, after a few seconds of aimlessly falling, she landed sideways on the dusty ground.

"Well done, lady," Fred offered a hand, helping her get on her feet, "How was it for the first time?"

"Why can't wizards just use cars," She whined, trying and failing to get off the dirt from her clothes"

Fred laughed.

"That's just not as fun," He tried to help her clean her sweater, but it was useless.

George appeared right after, swiftly landing and not caring to brush off the dirt from his body.

"Lovely, isn't it?" He grinned, examining the girl's ill expression, "you don't look happy"

Mr. Weasley landed behind his son, brushing the soot from his robes.

"We should get going, the rest will catch up with us"

They nodded and started to walk, Mel and the boys would gravitate towards the funny-looking objects with curiosity, but Mr. Weasley was quick to put them back on track.

"Is not like we can buy them anyway," Fred sighed, "we're just looking"

"Sometimes we can design things based on stuff we find around here," George told her in a low whisper, "it gives us an idea of what things wizards and witches find amusing"

"What for?" She asked with interest.

"We're planning to open our own joke shop someday," Fred said proudly, "one day we'll get the money and we'll make the best items for all kinds of pranks and tricks"

"It sounds fun," Mel agreed, "have you finished one of those inventions already?"

"Not really," George grimaced, "every time mum finds our experiments she throws them away, is not exactly helpful"

As he finished his sentence, Mrs. Weasley, Emily, Ron, and Ginny, ran up to them.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cried, "We can't find him!"

"What!?" Mel rushed up to her mum, "What happened!?"

"He messed up the words," Ron lamented, "not his fault really, but now we don't know where he is"

"He can't be too far," Her mother tried to calm them down, "Harry's a smart boy, and he didn't completely mess up the words, just a little... must be around here"

They split into two groups, Mel going with her mother, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley.

"I don't understand why everything always happens to him," Mel whispered to Ginny.

"I just hope he's okay," Her friend pouted, "poor Harry..."

"This is exactly why I think some traditions are just crazy, look how dangerous this is! What if he appears inside a muggle's chimney?"

"Can't happen," Ginny shook her head, "only magical places have floo line, no muggle houses are connected"

It took them almost half an hour to find the boy. He was in front of Gringotts, Hagrid and Hermione were also with him, though she didn't know how they had found each other.

"Oh, Harry - oh, my dear - you could have been anywhere-"

Gasping for breath Mrs. Weasley pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away. Mrs. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of her wand, and returned them, good as new.

"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Weasley, "See yer at Hogwarts!"

"See you Hagrid!" Harry walked up to her and stare. "What?"

"You're not going to scowl me about this?"

"I'm not your mum," She crossed her arms, taking full offense, "I was worried but it wasn't your fault"

"Harry!" Emily walked up to him and hugged him tightly, "I'm so relieved! You have to be more careful, Harry!"

"You see, I don't have to scowl you when my mum can do it herself," She smirked.

"Hi Mel!" Hermione walked up to her and gave her a hug, "It's so good to see you!"

"Hi!" She replied.

"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked his friends as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"No, he was selling-'

"So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley, "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something..."

"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew-"

"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley.

But his anger soon went away as they met Hermione's parents at the main entrance.

"Nice to meet you," Mel noted the resemblance between Hermione and her mother, she wondered if she looked like that standing next to her own mother.

"But you're Muggles!" said Mr. Weasley, "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!"

"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys, Emily, Mel and Harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.

When the groups split, Emily discretely told Mel that she'd be going with Mrs. Weasley to buy Ginny's stuff and she wouldn't stop nagging until she accepted their help.

"Molly's been so nice to us, it's the least we can do"

"But, Dumbledore's vault-"

"This is from my own vault," When she saw her daughter's expression she added, "I have some savings there, enough in case Dumbledore's wasn't enough for your things. I didn't know they were so... rich"

"Okay," Mel nodded, "I'll see you in a while"

Harry bought four large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams for them, they walked through Diagon Alley, examining the shop windows until Hermione dragged them to buy their equipment.

Inside a Wizarding Joke Shop, they saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan buying Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks. Percy was inside a shop of used, broken things that looked more like junk, reading a book called 'Prefects Who Gained Power.'

"A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers," Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds fascinating..."

"Don't start," Mel warned him.

"Go away," Percy snapped.

"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out... He wants to be Minister of Magic..." Ron told them as they left.

"He's got a lot of work ahead of him," Mel raised a brow, "no wonder he stays all day inside his room"

They headed to Flourish and Blotts. As they approached, they saw a huge group of people trying to get in. A large banner above them:

'GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME today 12:30 P.m. to 4:30 P.m.'

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

The crowd was mostly witches, a poor worker stood at the entrance saying, "Calmly, please, ladies... Don't push, there... mind the books, now..."

Harry, Mel, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys and Emily were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley, "We'll be able to see him in a minute..."

Mel grabbed her mother's hand to get her attention, Emily looked down to her daughter.

"You helped?" She asked in a whisper.

"As much as she let me," Emily frowned, "not even close to enough, she would only let me help with fewer things, potion ingredients and the floo powder because I insisted that we had used it too"

"That's something," Mel sighed, "wish we could do more..."

"We'll be right here if they need more help," Emily stroked the girl's hair softly, "don't lose sleep on it, love..."

Gilderoy Lockhart came into view, he was all too flashy for Mel's liking. He enjoyed too much all the attention, no one with common sense would enjoy his own face that badly.

"Out of the way, there," A photographer snarled at Ron, "This is for the Daily Prophet-"

"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot since the man had carelessly stepped on it.

"Watch where you're going, don't be an animal," Mel said loudly, her mother clasped a hand on her shoulder and murmured in a horrified whisper 'Mel!'

Gilderoy Lockhart looked up. He saw Ron and then he saw Harry.

Then he stood up and shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

The man sprinted towards them and snatched Harry away from the group, dragging him right up the front of the place. Mel watched in horror as the photographer took pictures of Harry, face red, hand trapped in Gilderoy's, who was whispering something to the boy.

"We have to get him out of there," She whispered to Ron.

"How exactly?" Ron said, just as shocked as her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Gilderoy spoke up, now wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders, "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography -which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge-"

"How generous..." She grumbled.

"-He had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

"Oh... great," Mel gulped, "why?"

"I'm not sure your uncle thought that through," Her mother said lowly, "but I trust you'll have interesting classes at least"

Mel nodded, she walked over to where Harry was heading now that he was free and planned to apologize for causing the whole situation. He stopped in front of Ginny, giving her the books.

"You have these," Harry mumbled, tipping the books into the girl's cauldron. "I'll buy my own-"

He was so considerate, all the time! ...There it was again, the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Mel turned around, finding Draco standing a few feet away. "Famous Harry Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said Ginny.

She was giving Malfoy a deathly stare. Mel was surprised, she had never seen her spoke like that in front of Harry.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" Malfoy laughed.

Poor Ginny lost her courage, Ron and Hermione soon joined in.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron in disgust, "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron dropped the books inside Ginny's cauldron and move towards him, Harry and Hermione stopped him before he could touch the kid.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Mel pushed Ron away, "we don't have the time for you"

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, who had seen the scene from a few spaces away, he had Fred and George with him. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley."

That had to be Malfoy's father, he stood with the same air of superiority and was just as dislikeable from bare sight as his son.

"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids ... I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.

"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley went scarlet red.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, "The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower"

Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf.

"Get him, Dad!" Yelled the twins.

Mel covered her mouth in surprise, unable to move.

Mrs. Weasley yelled, "No, Arthur, no!"

"Gentlemen, please - please!" The worker begged, "Break it up, there, gents, break it up -"

"Enough!" Emily pulled out her wand and made a swift movement, both men being pushed away from each other.

Hagrid then appeared, walking over to them and pulling them to their feet, keeping them apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had a black eye. He gave the book back to Ginny aggressively.

"Here, girl -take your book- it's the best your father can give you-" Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip and leaving the shop with his son.

"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that - no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter - bad blood, that's what it is - come on now - let's get outta here."

Mel found her mother's eyes and they had the same worried-amused expression. Emily turned to the Grangers.

"All right?"

"I think you should ask that to Arthur," Said Mr Granger politely, looking pale as paper.

"A fine example to set for your children... brawling in public... what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought-" Mrs Weasley scowled.

"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report- said it was all publicity-"

"A brilliant professor, don't you think?" Harry asked her, a mocking smile on his face.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @omiwashere @mikariell95  @thesuitelifeofafangirl  

[believerindaydreams]

Okay I know there has to be a Boone/Arcade scene for pacing but this feels like treading water

Oh well, crossing at dawn 2.75 and then I'll be chronologically in order agsin

Boone

Don't know why now of all times, when we've finally sorted out our problems, I start having nightmares.

That time in the Legion, when I'm awake I hardly think about it. But when I sleep it grabs me, I'm wrapped in crimson that's starting to bleed and armed with a machete against men with grenade launchers and rockets.

Not that strange, it's what happened.

I get off the bunk, stealthy as I can manage; Manny's taken the top like always, he's out cold. My wife's fallen asleep on top of Veronica, hands entwined; I'd start wondering about that if the engineer wasn't so obsessed with this train. She's staying out, so the fling is a fling.

Can't complain, that's for sure.

Arcade's in the dining car, reading with his feet up; the place smells like frying fat and sugar.

"What's up?"

"Can't sleep. Didn't seem worth trying any longer."

"Well, I've got something cooking if you're sticking around. What would you normally do to unwind?"

"Practice my sniping."

"Ah. And you can hardly do that on a train, so no wonder you're stressed out."

Guess he has a point. Not many days I've spent without practicing with some kind of firearm or another. "What's cooking, then?"

"Fried Nuka-Cola balls." He's hiding behind his big book now, can't see him. "It's a classic recipe. I'm testing it."

"Can't get enough of the stuff, huh?"

"Followers," Arcade says, peeking over the top of the book, "are interested in all kinds of prewar experiences, valuable or not. Because it takes more than weapon schematics and vault doors to build a society- I think they started forgetting that, towards the end. How to live when your whole life isn't bent towards destruction. The more frivolous, silly, utterly human scraps we can salvage from the wreckage, the better off we all are."

"...so this isn't about your addiction then."

"Well, that too. Any Follower worth the lab coat can spout off nonsense to justify their actions, it's one of the first things you pick up at the Boneyard." He chuckles and tucks the book under his arm. Picks up a kind of metal net and shakes it out, then upends it over a plate. Golden balls spill out, like Manny's dumplings but smaller and less meaty. "Give those a while to cool."

"Guess I'm not going anywhere."

"Great," Arcade says, actually putting the book down. "Because I've- I have missed you, if that makes sense. Far be it from me to ever imply I miss the Sierra Madre, because I most definitely don't, but- you know what, there is absolutely no way of saying this without sounding terrible. That third rum was a mistake."

"With Nuka in it, I guess."

"...yes. Well. I could be even more drunk, but- you know what it is, I had approximately ten seconds to go from the idea of having finally, unbelievably, made a cautious attempt at opening up, to suddenly being the fifth wheel on a cart."

"There's only four of us."

"I'm talking metaphorically- Boone, it's been a lot to deal with. Manny was just that sniper in the dinosaur, Carla I didn't know at all, this is very much a case where I'm late to the party and I'm trying to get to terms with that by consuming junk food abominations and revisiting highlighted passages of the Wasteland Survival Guide. Please don't hate me for realising I'm not even the most important person in your life anymore."

The weird little fried balls are cooled off. I pop one in my mouth- kind of crispy on the outside, syrupy inside. It does taste like a soda, sort of.

"I'm not going to throw you over just because they came back."

Arcade stuffs a ball into his mouth, doesn't speak until he's done chewing. "Surviving the Enclave collapse did not, I'm afraid, do anything for my capacity to trust that a given situation will remain stable."

"...you want to fuck?"

"No. Yes. I would dearly enjoy a prolonged, imaginative and exhausting fuck, but right now I need to get to grips with this before I can get comfortable with you again. Boone, is any of this making sense?"

Wish Manny and Carla were awake, this is out of my depth. "They've told you they're glad to have you along. Don't know that me saying it helps you much."

We're getting through the balls at a fast clip. Saves looking at each other. "Is this because I shot those men at the Freeside gate? You look at me and wonder what other promises I'd break?"

Arcade blinks. Twice. "Not really where I was going with this, but carry on."

"Didn't kill 'em for my sake, when I could have turned myself in. Manny and Carla could have gone back to the Great Khans, they'd be glad to get a good soldier back and she'd stick with him if I vanished. But no way you could have gone with them, with that Legion alliance on the way. Had to make the choice, and I made it."

He slowly crushes a ball in his fingers, opens them up, looks at the dark liquid. "You're saying, cheer up, because I murdered some guards for you."

"Can't make you feel better about the others, because I'm not them. But you want to know if you matter to me? Damn straight you do."

"...I suppose that'll just have to suffice. For the moment."

Comes as a relief, when he quits talking and gets your hands and mouth sticky with soda syrup.

Action's a hell of a lot easier than words.

*****

Manny

Glory be, Veronica should have called it the Love Track. You can hardly move on this train without stumbling over somebody fucking or thinking about fucking or recuperating after the fact.

And I'm not planning to be left out altogether. Third day in I invite Arcade for a roll in the hay. Or maize husks, anyway.

"Why are we here? Cow won't need milking for at least two hours."

"Thought we could get to know each other a little better."

"Ooo-kay. Fine."

He's nervous. Forget the hay, then.

"See, I care about those two idiots out there, bless 'em, but Boone does not do feelings and Carla has been through so many kinds of hell since getting pregnant, I'm amazed she still gets up in the morning. So nobody else is going to ask this- are you feeling all right?"

"Good enough."

Wow. Boone's contagious. "Hey. If I can help, name it. I wouldn't be half as gracious about it if I was the one dumped into a three-way tangle."

"You could satisfy my incessant curiosity, I suppose." He picks up a brush and starts tending Cow; technique all wrong but they're patient animals. "How did you all agree to this, if I may ask?"

"Hmth. Sure you can ask, Boone proposed to her and she turned him down because she didn't believe that he wasn't sleeping with me. He came back to the barracks with a turquoise ring and a broken heart so bad he actually talked about it."

"Were you? Sleeping with him?"

"Not then. But we had done...so next leave, I went to Carla myself, told her it was killing my partner, that if it was me or caps or anything I had the power to change, name it and I'd do it. He'd been so happy with her...well. You met him before he got Carla back."

"I'm not sure I saw him at his worst, even so." Bless the man, Arcade's blushing.

"Could be, I wouldn't know. Well- she laughed and asked if I'd brought a ring too, and I said yes, just in case you wanted one. Nice bit of bone carving, you'd knock that off in a bored afternoon with the Khans. Anyway she suddenly took me seriously after that...she was in love, I was in love, Boone wanted both of us. And she felt better when she heard I didn't go for girls. So I went back, told Boone to try again...went storybook the second time, Carla said."

"Then you were always planning to make a life with them."

"Planning? No. I thought that she'd tell me to find my jollies somewhere else, I'd mope about it for a few months, and head back to the Khans- that was before Bitter Springs."

"So what made you stay?"

"You really don't let up with the questions, do you?" Arcade's not bad to look at, that's for damned sure. The distracted way he's brushing his hair back, for instance. But I'm not going to fuck him just because I'm here and he's here. "Cos I still wanted Boone. Because we were partnered and I couldn't have quit thinking about him if I tried. Because they were a couple of star-struck idiots and they were going to need help."

"I suppose you were right about that."

I'd just as soon forget the word Arizona, thanks. "Sure. Who else would have taught them a triple-step to dance at the Tops?"

"You know a triple-step? I thought that only- well, that only Enclave remembered that."

"Khans were from a vault, back in the day. Good exercise, and it's fun."

"Mmm. It shows."

There's a certain hunger the way Arcade says it, couldn't call it subtle. Suddenly I get to come to terms with just because I'm being polite and hands off, doesn't mean he is.

Well. I wouldn't mind being the one who gets chased, just for a change.

[anotherisodope]

Prompt fic: the Nightmare

Prompt 33 from here

The nightmares haven’t changed since the night she lived them for real. 

It's always that same terrible twenty-odd minutes that she had to crawl for her life down a Vault walkway with a sucking chest wound. She remembers every painful foot of that journey, sliding on her own blood over the metal. Arms empty of her baby, the pod across from hers empty of her husband.

Had he been kidnapped too? Or had he escaped and...God...left her behind?

In the real world she only found out weeks later, discovering Nate’s vault suit and wedding ring for sale from the back of a Brahmin many miles from the Vault. Yet another casualty among countless, without even a grave marker. Now she carries his ring as a reminder of why she’s on this path.

But in the dream, she somehow already knows that he left, that he didn’t save her, and that he’s gone. The sense of being abandoned, even by innocent mistake or mishap, is almost too much to bear.

Widow doesn't know if it's her brain trying to process trauma, or something she'll just have to live with for years, like a scar on her mind. Whatever the case, she's sure that the docs at the VA would have called it PTSD. 

She tries not to pity herself when the nightmares hit, like she tries not to pity herself when her scarred lung locks up and she can't push past the pain and exhaustion any more. Every single person still surviving on this damaged, irradiated planet is carrying something. Nearly everyone she's met is a PTSD poster child in one way or another. She knows she's not special. And she doesn’t want to annoy people or worse, provoke them.

So she keeps it quiet. 

She’s practiced at it: when she wakes up and wheezes for air in the dark and adrenaline slams through her, she stuffs her face into a pillow or her arms as fast as she can so that her thin, airless scream doesn't carry. It's not safe to scream aloud when she's alone, and not considerate to do it when she isn't.

And so she sits up in the dark, no idea for the moment where she is, and gasps into her palms until the icy cold and terror of the dream goes away. But she still remembers the images, the other sensations: the long crawl, the flickering lights, the rumble of the malfunctioning generators kicking off and on deep beneath her as she searched for help, or some means to help herself.

The pain's still there too, digging into her chest above her right breast, where the knot of scar tissue sits now. In her heart as well: her baby gone, her husband gone, her discarded with a bullet in her, left to make the long crawl alone.

It was then, in those dark moments in the vault, that she found the rage she takes refuge in so much now. Not with her few friends or with the undeserving, but with the world in general, and with those who ruined it. And those who continue to do so. While she's awake, she's too pissed off and determined to feel the fear. But when she sleeps...

Well, that's another story.

She sobs for air, heart pounding hard, damaged lung aching as she struggles to pull in enough oxygen. A curse forms silently on her lips and she mouths it against her palm. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Her husband is dead. Her son is probably dead as well. And the man who shot her would have to be ninety now, maybe more. Her hunger for revenge is as futile as her desire to have her health back.

But she's still on the track, if only to find out what the hell really happened. And to make sure that anyone responsible that is still alive pays dearly.

She focuses on that thought as hard as she can, trying to get her grip on her rage again. It works, heating her blood and slowing her trembling. 

If Kellogg’s alive...she’s going to make him wish he’d shot her in the head.

She's just starting to pull herself together enough to orient herself when she hears the softest footfall in front of her, and the rustle of fabric. A pair of hands grips her shoulders, and her eyes adjust enough for her to see a slim figure in a loose-sleeved shirt standing over her.

“You okay, sister?”

The purring rasp of his voice orients her. She’s in Goodneighbor, crashed on a friend’s couch after helping him root out a local serial killer. He smells like an old bomber jacket under the whiskey and tobacco, and in the dark his black eyes and gash of a nose would probably terrify someone who didn’t know him. Instead, she feels safer seeing the dim features of his face.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she sighs, seeing him dressed down for bed, shirt open and regalia put up for the night. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah. You wouldn’t have been loud enough for that anyway. I’ve been chewing over this damn Pickman problem all night, so I was awake. Figured I’d better come over and see if you needed help.”

His scarred fingers rest on her gently, thumb settling over the end of her collarbone. She tries to ignore just how much that gets her attention.  Or how much the unexpected sympathy makes her ache. The guy’s only known her a few weeks. Why does he give a damn?

“I’m all right.”

“Nah, you’re not.” He gives her shoulders a squeeze and lets her go, and she sucks air too deeply and coughs. “Didn’t think so. You want a Calmex? I’ve got a few.”

For a moment she almost takes him up on it. Hancock’s a serious proponent of better living through chemistry, and sometimes, she sees his point. This world is a nightmare, and anything that can make it more bearable, even for a few hours, is hard to condemn and easy to embrace. 

But Widow knows her fragile health requires her to be careful. Withdrawal from certain things can kill or incapacitate her. She can’t even get drunk too often for that reason.

This time, though, she considers it seriously before deciding to refuse. “Hold that thought, I...I think I can handle this one without.” Calmex is hard to find. 

“Your choice, but I’m staying here until I know you’re not gonna fall apart on me.” There is that tiny edge of “don’t question me on this” in his voice, and she doesn’t, instead pulling her legs up against her so he can sit on the other end of the couch. 

“Thanks, Hancock,” she sighs instead of protesting. No point arguing; she’ll lose, and she knows it. She knows as well that he’s at least trying to have her best interests in mind...and that she is lucky to have a guy like him around. 

But deep down, she finds herself wondering if he will one day turn his back on her too...or be taken away, by force. 

That’s the nightmare talking, damn it, she reminds herself. What happened to her and her family will always be there...but she survived it. 

“You want to talk about it?” he asks, and she knows he’s not just being polite.

She doesn’t want to talk about the damn dreams, though. “It’s the same story I told you. It’s just like a broken record in my head some nights.”

“Ah. I get it. You’re not the first one to tell me something like that.” She hears the rattle of his mentats box in his hand and knows at once that he has no plans to sleep. “So...what now?”

Make yourself useful, he’s been trying to help you. “I think I need a distraction. Maybe I can do something more to help you sort out this whole Pickman thing? Because I know I won’t be sleeping again for a while.”

Even in the dim light and with a face full of scars, his smile is wide and warm. “Sounds good, doll face.”

[janiedean]

*Roose Bolton voice* I'm dissapointed in you

HEY ANON SORRY FOR THE LATENESS BUT I’M SURE YOU SENT THIS FOR SPRINGSTEEN ANALYSIS, RIGHT? ;) then sure let’s have something! what can I get for you with the roose bolton voice, hm…

OH OKAY LET’S GO BLEAK POLITICAL.

so: SEEDS!

Seeds is an outtake from born in the USA and was only properly published in 1998 when it ended up on tracks (a four-cds compilation of outtakes that still doesn’t even fucking scratch the surface of what he has in the vaults bruce come on take the rest out), but as a lot of other bruce songs that were never technically published on official records it has enjoyed a very lively life on stage/live especially when our man gets political. we should probably put as a premise, other than that, that this was one of bruce’s first political pieces following the vein that would then end up in bitusa, tom joad, youngstown and so on, and as a lot of those songs it focuses on poverty/unemployment in the us of a. it’s not a coincidence that it was out of the bitusa sessions post-nebraska, but then again nebraska was his first record with Serious Political Themes and half of the original songs ended up on bitusa anyway so those records are pretty much tied together.

also, seeds has been a favorite throughout the bitusa tour (the one where bruce dissed reagan) where it was played along the title track, a cover of war that you can find on the live 75-85 box set, johnny 99 and atlantic city. as in, basically it gave you a pretty straight bleak picture of the current times, and it came back with a vengeance post bush-jr and I’m 100% sure it’ll show up again when he tours post-trump.

anyhow, as I think I’ve bored you enough with the technicalities, let’s move on to the actual thing. so, what do we have?

Well a great black river a man had foundSo he put all his money in a hole in the groundAnd sent a big steel arm driving down down downMan now I live on the streets of Houston town

so, we’re starting with a bang. first thing, the song’s title is seeds, which should suggest us that it’s about either agriculture or farmers.

except that it opens saying that ‘a man found a great black river’, and at the end of the stanza we find out that we’re in houston, so presumably around texas, so the black river that then turns into a hole in the ground with a big steel arm driving down down down (which considering the fast rhythm of the song gives you anxiety just hearing it) means that someone found oil and started drilling it in texas and as a consequence the narrator lives in the streets of one of texas’s biggest cities, so we can suppose that this guy was a farmer, he lost his land because of the oil drill and now he’s homeless. NICE START GUYS! but let’s go on.

Packed up my wife and kids when winter came alongAnd we headed down south with just spit and a songBut they said “Sorry son it’s gone gone gone”

next stanza, we find out that our guy has a family that he had to pack up when winter came along, so either his land was dead because of the oil drill or he couldn’t support them anymore out of farming. now, this could either be set in texas or not, but since in the eighties a lot of people from the north who lost their houses or land and used to be farmers or steel workers or so on went to texas because it was said to be someplace they could get jobs (again I know I say it every damned time but if you read dale maharidge’s somewhere like america or journey to nowhere you’ll see exactly what I meant), so either he went to texas from a nearby state or he was in northern texas and went down south, but the point is: he lost his job, he was a farmer (so not in a good position to start from since farming hasn’t made much money for small owners for a while) and now he’s gone to texas with a spit and a song (ie: hope), but as the song’s music keeps on being fairly bleak, the only answer he’s given is ‘sorry but it’s gone, gone, gone’, as in: if he wanted work, there isn’t any.

Well there’s men hunkered down by the railroad tracksThe Elkhorn Special blowing my hair backTents pitched on the highway in the dirty moonlightAnd I don’t know where I’m gonna sleep tonight

If we thought that was bad news, though, we’re just getting started, because not only our dude isn’t the only one in that same situation (men hunkered down by the railroad tracks, referring to the fact that in the eighties a lot of people had started riding trains again like in the great depression so they slept near the railroad - the elkohorn special is the name of a train), in tents along the highway in the *dirty* moonlight which suggests you a fairly bleak, sad picture. also, he doesn’t know where he’s going to sleep tonight, which means he doesn’t even have the tent.

Parked in the lumberyard freezing our asses offMy kids in the back seat got a graveyard coughWell I’m sleeping up in front with my wifeBilly club tapping on the windshield in the middle of the nightSays “Move along man move along”

solution: sleeping in the car, since they don’t have anything else. so, the guy and his family try to sleep in the car in a lumberyard with his children being sick (graveyard cough, suggesting that it’s pretty damned bad), except that they can’t even do that because the police shows up and tells them to leave, which was apparently common practice in texas at the time (again: same thing happened to the reporters in the aforementioned book because they had a car with ohio plates…), so they can’t stay and have to *move along*, but to where? we just don’t know.

so: the guy used to be a farmer, lost his job, went down to texas to look for work with his wife and kids, didn’t find any, was treated like crap and can’t even sleep in his car with his family, the alternative is tents along the highway or a railroad in winter, his kids are sick and there’s no hint of salvation anywhere nor of government help nor… really much of anything.

Well big limousine long shiny and blackYou don’t look ahead you don’t look backHow many times can you get up after you’ve been hit?

now, that’s it for the backstory - we don’t know where the narrator ends up or if he finds work. but we learn his opinion. first of all, he talks to a generic ‘big long shiny black limousine’, which we can automatically assume means that he’s talking to someone rich (or the idea of someone rich) who could afford such a car (he certainly can) accusing them of not looking ahead ( = not seeing the consequences of their greed, which we can tie back to the oil drill in the first part that started our guy’s problems) and of not looking back ( = can mean that they don’t care for who comes behind them in wealth or that they don’t remember not being wealthy or both), and then asks them, how many times can you get up after being hit, as in, how many times could you fall on your feet before you end up like me?

we just don’t know, but probably more than the narrator… though one supposes the narrator is hoping the time comes for them, too. that becomes veery clear in the next part:

Well I swear if I could spare the spitI’d lay one on your shiny chromeAnd send you on your way back home

if he could spare the spit (which suggests he can’t, so maybe they barely even have means to drink and eat) he’d use it to spit on the limousine ie what stands for enormous undeserved wealth that a) the narrator will never obtain, b) caused the (economical) situation that brought the narrator to misery, so we also can see that the narrator is absolutely aware that his poverty is tied with the fact that rich people don’t care for the likes of him and would throw him under the dirt in a second, nor care if he can’t support himself anymore. and then he’d send the rich person back home, if he could. but he can’t.

and that’s bleak enough, but then we get to the last part and it gets possibly worse:

So if you’re gonna leave your town where the north wind blowTo go on down where that sweet soda river flowWell you better think twice on it JackYou’re better off buying a shotgun dead off the rackYou ain’t gonna find nothing down here friendExcept seeds blowing up the highway in the south windMoving on moving on it’s gone gone it’s all gone

at this point, the narrator is addressing someone else - someone named jack who could be anyone as it’s an extremely common name - who might want to go south and tells him not to. going south means leaving a town where the north wind blows (so where it’s cold and there’s nothing for them) to go where that sweet soda river flow which paints an imagery of a river overflowing with sugary refined drink… from which poor people can’t serve themselves anyway, and according to the narrator if that is the plan, then you’re better off buying a shotgun ie killing yourself before you go south because there is nothing down there except seeds blowing up the highway in another type of wind, so the seeds they might have planted back home are getting wasted along the highway people sleep on… and everything is gone and they have nothing left.

and the fact that it’s this bleak is probably why it didn’t end up on the record proper (admittedly bitusa has a slightly different feeling so it probably wouldn’t have fit given that it’s a lot more raw and musically angry than any other song on that record except maybe bitusa but the electric version lures you in with the beat and you don’t realize how angry it is until you hear the original imvho), but it’s sadly a fairly accurate portrayal of how things were going bad economically for all the people laid off without a second chance to find something better in the late 70s-early 80s. too bad that things haven’t changed and this piece has stayed pretty much relevant even these days.

thank you anon with the roose bolton voice, I hope you enjoyed the fruits of your disappointment ;)

[enamis1]

OC INTERVIEW

it’s that time again where I ramble about stuff only i care about! i got tagged, as always by the lovely @courierspikeee and i'm tagging @worthlesssix if they're still around and wanna do stuff 1. Choose an OC. 2. Answer them as that OC. 3. Tag 5 people to do the same.

[Three months after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam and the declaration of Vegas’s independance a young ‘news courier’ managed to orchestrate an interview with the local courier-turned-leader on the casino floor of the Lucky 38]

1. What is your name? Viva. Or Empress Vivianne if you wanna be fancy.

2. How old are you? [she rubs the back of her head] somewhere in the ‘thirty’ ballpark I’m guessing 

3. What do you look like? You have eyes don’t you? And yes the white hair is natural. No, I don’t really know why it’s like that. Apparently it’s some genetic condition. 

4. Where are you from? Where do you live now? I'm from the West. I've been told. [pause] Maybe. But as far as anyone’s concerned I might as well be a native Mojave-ian. Won't be leaving Vegas or, hell, even the Lucky 38 anytime soon.

5. What was your childhood like? I’m sure it was fine. I mean, I have no memory of it, but I’m sure it was /fine/ 

6. What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions? [she groans] As you can imagine politics are a bit uhh… tense at the moment, what with me kicking the NCR out of my city and all. Our current alliance consists of the Families, the Kings, Freesiders, the Boomers, and the Followers. Once we get our issues here sorted I'm extending my hand to all the independent settlements in the area and we’ll go from there

7. Tell me about your best friend. Which one exactly? ‘Cuz I have a few. Oh, I know, I can tell you about this guy [she points over her shoulder to a securitron with a static smiley on its screen] This is Yes Man, he’s my second in command. [the robot raises a clawed hand and gives a cheerful ‘howdy’] It's not that i couldn't manage coordinating a brand new, independent nation by myself, but he does make all the busywork and number running and security that much easier. And he yells at me if I forget to eat or sleep for a few nights [Viva proceeds to glare at the robot, its smile unchanging]

8. Do you have a family? Tell me about them!  [Viva glances away for a moment] My friends are my family. [pause] and even if we don't get along entirely, that's just how it is. I wouldn't trade any of those fuckwits for the world.

9. What about a partner or partners?  [she gives a single loud laugh] Do I look like I have time for shit like that? Especially now of all times?

10. Who are your enemies, and why?  I’d hazard a guess and say at this point everyone who’s not my explicit ally [Viva drums her fingers for a moment] Of course the NCR is going to pretend to be nice for now, but politics is like chess. Complex, and annoying and I hate it. Give me a year and i’ll be begging for the Legion and their blunt insanity

11. Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them?  Oh I’ve heard of them alright. [she grumbles under her breath] Good people. Bad priorities though. 

12. What about The Enclave? [shrug] no comment 

13. How do you feel about Super Mutants?  What you mean the ones up north? They're great and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I mean, yeah sure they're pretty scary to be around, especially if the nightkin get antsy, but they're decent people. Marcus is… Marcus is a good man.

14. What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in? I… [she trails off, thinking] There was… /is/ a man. Who knew me from before. Long before. He challenged me to face him in a grave of ash and… I consider the three weeks it took to track him though the pits of hell as one very, very long and very exhausting fight. [she pauses again] That and all the verbal sparring along the way. And… everything after, too. 

15. Have you ever fought a Deathclaw? I mean… I've shot Deathclaws. And they're about as pants-shittingly terrifying as they've always been. But that's what the .50 cal is for

16. Do you like fighting? [she grins] I like shooting, I’ll tell you that much 

17. What’s your weapon of choice? [Viva holds up her finger to pause and proceeds to heft up an Anti-material Rifle. It’s new with a faint silvery sheen, and only a little scuffed from use, the Gun Runners logo still visible on the side. It is custom made, with every possible attachment, some parts are black carbon fiber. There are three bands of color around the stock and several engravings including six letters -CALBVR] [Viva is gleefully beaming as she wordlessly shows off the gun] 

18. How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?) You don't get to where I am without a bit of everything. But you could say my speciality is shooting, robotics, and outplaying people in the games they weave. [she tilts her head back and hums] Back when I was still just a mailman i knew how to hide in plain sight. Saved my life more often than not. That and brass knuckles. Very effective. Anything mechanical is child’s play too. Can't figure out how to cook geko without burning it though, so all the money I saved on gear i spent on food. [she rubs the back of her head and mutters through her teeth] and bandages. so. many. bandages. I swear the world really wants me dead and is having better luck at it than I am

19. Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them?  Plenty ‘round these parts. Can't say I'm fond of lurking around /in/ them but… Marvels of tech those things, shame most of them failed. There's actually one or two I want to strip for parts in the future. If I can get the wildlife out beforehand that is. 

20. How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you?  Radiation and I have a… complicated relationship. [she turns to the securitron and mutters something with a slight smirk. Suddenly the lights of the bottom floor wink out. Viva faces forward once more, her already unnaturally green eyes now glowing with a faint, sickly light. The lights flick on just as suddenly with a loud clack and the woman giggles] Honestly if I don't end up as a ghoul by the end of my life I will be /very/ surprised

21. What’s your favorite wasteland critter?  Do… Do the robots count? Because I'm going with the robots anyway.

22. What’s your least favorite wasteland critter?  I’d say it starts with death and ends with claw, but that's not right. At least with those fuckers I know where to aim, no, first place goes to cazadores, the best reason for carrying around a shotgun. 

23. How do you feel about robots? [she gestures to the dozens of securitrons surrounding them with a wide grin] Bliss, home, paradise and then some. 

24. How many caps do you have on you right now? I mean- [she rummages in her pockets] I don't have my bag with me. 23. I can't fit more into these pockets they're too full of specialty ammo.

25. Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla?  Nuka. I fucking hate Sarsaparilla and I know it's blasphemy in these parts, but listen, if you're dehydrated and all you have to drink is that mind-meltingly awful shit i'm looking for the nearest cactus to suck on

26. Do you do chems?  Uh. [she rubs her neck and nervously bounces her leg] I mean. Mentats are uh. Pretty… pretty great. [she bites her lip] Next question?

27. Do you ever think about the Pre-War world?  It fascinates me. What a life they lead to have created tech of this calibre [she gestures to the casino once more] I keep on finding parts of the old world that shine though, all the good, all the awful, all the same, always there. [she thinks for a moment] Like the past isn't as distant as people want to believe. But maybe that's just me… I've had more run-ins with old world ghosts that you’d believe. And I don't mean my previous employer either.

28. What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently?  [her expression darkens] [after a minute of silence she shakes her head] Can't change what was done. No point dwelling. 

29. What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve? [she exchanges a look with the smiling securitron] Right now? We’re in step four. There's a lot of steps to go. [exhale] And every single step takes more effort than anyone realizes. Because a lot of people don't think. Don't think about food, don't think about water, don't think about safety, don't think about business, don't think about what's next. I have to. And it's hard yaknow? But I've done more than I could ever imagine. I dethroned House, I defeated the Legion, I defanged the NCR. That’s more than most can say…

30. What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world? [she sinks into her seat] I didn't do all of this because I thought it’d be fun. [her expression darkens to a cold seriousness] Vegas is something else. Vegas and the Mojave. Everything that's happened here is that much more important than anyone realizes. This place is a crossing point. A bridge. Between the West and the East. And bridges can't belong to either side. I need to make sure it stays that way. I need to make sure this place, everyone who put their faith in me, /my/ people are safe. Are fed. Are… Vegas has to prosper as it stands and everything else’ll be sorted out in time. That's what I want. The Mojave to thrive. And so help me I haven't walked through storms of fire and death to let all of this fall apart. [she raises her eyes, a haunting look with a smile] So tell everyone who’s gonna be listening - I have the shadow of a nation behind me. I won't waste it this time.

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP. 5 (Cont.)

Tsubasa ruminates about her current situation in her Symphogear Brand Safety Capsule of Absolute Dunces.

“aight ive done seen the light lemme at that sweet, sweet taco bell”

Meanwhile, some old ass politicians rumble about Relics.

“im old.”

But they immediately get fucked up in a nasty car accident.

As it turns out, the Americans were waiting to intercept these old crones to steal The Goods.

And holy fuck are they are American. Personally, I feel the writers of Symphogear watched Die Hard and immediately went “these people are fucking animals”. That’s just me, though.

“ooh ouch oh mmm ouchie ouch oooo ouch”

They tear into these people with an almost machine like efficiency.

These people don’t fuck around. There’s a strange surreality around it given that this is honestly pretty accurate to how brutal special operatives can be, but the Japanese accent they have in their English voices is... a bit jarring.

“IM BACK FROM THE MALL, YA’LL”

“oh god she’s back”

“ah, ryoko. as per your lingo, quote, ‘i like your new gucci boots... bitch’ was that good? im not fond at cursing at women unless its a mutual training session”

Genjuro alerts that the Minister of Defense for Japan has just been assassinated.

“shits bad”

Conveniently... Ryoko’s phone was broken. In her defense, it’s 2012. Battery life didn’t have the bragging rights it had now for phone.

“i personally use a razer flip phone. those will never go out of style!”

Ryoko manages to show them the box the Americans were trying to get. Suspiciously...

There’s a bloodstain on it.

So the main struggle right now is that the Bad Guys(tm) want to get their hands on Durandal, which is a completed relic that is hidden away miles underneath the school in the 2nd Division Labs.

This musty, old, shitty sword has immense power. Almost Godlike.

“hey why dont we just use the sword to beat up the bad guys”

The sword was handed from the EU to Japan for Japan to safekeep, and in exchange to forgive some of the loans the EU owed Japan should the EU economy collapse.

How topical.

“i read a lot of beserk and honestly im pretty sure someone beats up the bad guys with that dumb sword”

“listen nerd, we’re not doing that dumb weeb anime shit. we’re taking this sword to a vault to the bottom of parliament.”

“thats right. who needs anime when you’ve got nicholas cage.”

And so, they plotted to deliver this dumb sword tomorrow.

Ryoko logs into Runescape.

Fun fact: Fulcanelli is a reference to this dude, who was a French alchemist whose identity nobody really knows. Alchemy is a concept that will come up during GX that has no relevance whatsoever during these first 2 seasons except in some passerby jargon. This as just a cute thing I wanted to point out.

You know, that’s a pretty sexy sword upon closer examination.

“thats the dark souls of swords”

“ah! a fellow gamer! im glad that you too partake of the souls of darkening. would you like to play a two player match somtime, fellow Gamer?”

“I would genuinely rather eat shit for the rest of my life!”

The scene ends. Alright, where are n-

Oh God we’re back to this bullshit. Okay then.

Miku, reasonably, is upset that her wife is gone for several hours for increasingly sketchy reasons. Much like an estranged wife going to see her “tennis instructor” for “private tennis lessons” in the “safety of their house, which has a tennis court”, Miku is worried that Hibiki is a liar liar, pants on fire.

Nose the size of a wire.

Hibiki, feeling the fear of God, quickly bails this increasingly tense situation.

Miku is suffering, and so am I with this hamfisted writing.

“you didnt even try the cookies i made out of frustration for you. i designed them all after me with increasingly angrier faces”

“im too young for a divorce. fuck, those cookies smelled good”

Hibiki decides to not sweat it anymore, opening a magazine and WHOA WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS I DONT REMEMBER THIS WHEN DID HIBIKI GET HER HANDS ON THIS OH MY GOD

“HELL NO IM MARRIED THE DEVIL CANNOT TEMPT ME”

Hibiki closes it up to reveal the relevant part of this magazine.

This is subtle, but it’s basically a vehicle to explain how things are covered up for Symphogears. Ogawa walks in, talking about how this headline was his doing.

“i wasn’t joking when i said we were literally the NSA”

Hibiki is happy that Tsubasa has been freed from Metaphor Limbo, having escaped the Water Metaphor Dimension back into real life.

“she literally wont stop talking about taco bell and honestly its killing me inside”

“shit ill get her some”

Ogawa does some schpiel about teamwork and asks Hibiki for an idea on what to do with Tsubasas image even though he’s supposed to be the manager and it’s just general prattle.

Everyone gets briefed about the delivery. Ryoko’s soccer mom van sticks out like a sore thumb. Nobody on the Lydian campus asks why there are 5 cars outside the building with men in suits and fucking Hibiki standing there with them why are these children so fucking incurious.

“this feels like the world’s most important weed delivery, but im going to deliver the SHIT out of that weed”

“hibiki please its not weed”

“ALRIGHT FAM LETS DELIVER THE SHIT OUT OF THIS WEED”

Big thick black cars surround Ryoko’s tiny vehicle as they all drive in unison to the drop point.

No fucking around here. The weed must be delivered.

The weed? Secured as shit.

“its not fucking weed it’s a goddamned french sword okay god”

“ROAD’S LOOKIN’ A-OKAY FOR OUR WEEEED DRIIIIIIVE”

PSYCHE, NO IT AINT. ROAD’S CRACKING UP HARD. COMES APART, CAR FUCKING EXPLODES!

“oh my god we seriously arent fucking around here those guys are fucking dead”

“bruh you never delivered weed before? that shit happens all the time”

“anyway grab on to something ‘cause we’re gonna initial d this shit”

“i thought we were delivering WEED not SUSHI”

“WEED... SUSHI... IT’S ALL FUCKING METAPHORS, HIBIKI. AND WE’RE GONNA DELIVER EM!”

“now ORDER UP, MOTHERFUCKER”

Every car is destroyed.

Ryoko flips the car like nobody’s business.

“ryoko! the kansai drift was too strong!”

“your delivery’s late, pal. that’s gonna have to come out of your tip.”

“jokes on you! you already paid the tip beforehand online!”

“oh, we’re going with pizza jokes now? is that what we’re doing? yeah, sure, whatever”

Unfortunately, Chris ordered her pizza with meat, extra crispy.

“FUCK, i cant see anything. now i don’t know if they have the weed- i mean, the sushi- er, the pizza- god i hate all these JOKES”

RYOKO SUMMONS A FUCKING SHIELD OUTTA NOWHERE WHILE HIBIKI’S KNOCKED OUT COLD

“yo hol’ up a moment did this pervert manage to summon a shield”

“are- are you able to fight the noise? are you fucking kidding me? this entire time when literal children were fighting these battles, you literally could have fought back effectively? are we but mere playthings to you? is this really the bullshit im seeing?”

“uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i can only make shields. piss shields, out of piss”

“that is absolute fucking bullshit”

“but i believe it.”

Hibiki has primed her fists and is about to show how much she’s improved combat wise, which is actually a lot.

Nevermind, she tripped again. Turns out, Symphogears fight in heels constantly, which is absolutely fucking horrifying. Hibiki realizes this, and then

FUCKING BREAKS THE HEELS LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS.

AND THEN SHE WRECKS SHOP WITHOUT BREAKING A GODDAMN SWEAT

“oh shit how the fuck did she improve this quickly”

The suitcase where the sword is stored opens up. That means it’s activating.

Immediate fear.

“alright bruce lee you mightve mastered a thousand kicks but you better change your gameplan because im about to realign that pretty little face of yours”

“thank god you kicked me. needed you to get closer so i could kick your ass, after all”

The fucking suitcase, I shit you not, pops open immediately with the sword flipping to the sky like a bad Gmod toy as it suddenly stays floating, perfectly still.

“ive officially lost track on what the hell is happening”

The sword just floats there, as a sword does.

“you know how many fried turkeys i can cut open with that bad boy? that shits mine now.”

Chris goes to get it.

“fuck you! im going to slice HONEYBAKED HAMS with that sword!”

Hibiki intercepts it and takes the sword.

Now Hibiki becomes a proud Stand owner, having acquired the power of The World and stopping time at will.

“oooooh holy shit”

Hibiki, now channeling the power of Durandal, feels the raw strength of a completed relic all through her body.

Real spicy stuff running through her veins.

The power unleashing itself into a raw stream of piss skyrocketing into the stratosphere.

“the pizza has been delivered... all according to plan...”

“...she was right. honeybaked ham was the superior meat to slice...”

Hibiki is channeling a power source so ancient, so powerful, that through using her as a conduit, the sword actually finishes itself into its full, completed form.

Holy shit, Hibiki.

Goddamn. That’s a really sexy sword, actually! Pretty nice...

...oh.

You’re not looking so hot, pal...

“why is it that every opponent of mine can literally asspull all this garbage and im stuck here looking like a bad kamen rider villian getting my ass kicked every time. its not fair.”

Ryoko looks extremely hyped for this event. Maybe a little too much so.

“MAN FUCK THIS NONSENSE IM PUTTING AN END TO THE SUPER SENTAI POWERUP”

“O-OH FUCK- uh, i didnt say that. totally swear. you uh, keep doing that. yeah. aha.”

“SLICED...”

“...HONEYBAKED...”

“oh god. oh god. im sorry. im sorry. im so sorry. oh fuck im so sorry. honeybaked ham is better. fuck turkeys. fuck drumlegs. fuck any sort of fried meat. honeybaked ham is better please im begging you dont vore me or slice me in half IM BEGGING YOU OH GOD”

“...HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!”

“ham..... mmmmm... honeybaked ham....”

“WHO YELLED ABOUT HAM? god, im hungry now.”

Hibiki wakes up from it all after passing out, expressing a power of magnitudes unheard of, as if it were all a bad dream.

“YEAH THATS RIGHT WE HAD TO DELIVER THE WEED PIZZA AND I WANTED HAM AND- THE SWORD, YEAH! THE SWORD!”

To her disappointment, amongst this wanton destruction, no ham was found. Ryoko clues her in that Hibiki just single handedly completed a relic, and though the entire place is a mess, the mission wasn’t a complete failure. They’ll just have to return the relic back to base, now the entire location is, conveniently, destroyed.

“yeah yeah. the weed made it. the sushi made it. the pizza made it. what didnt we deliver today?”

“...”

“singing really does make you hungry, huh?”

[batgirl-87]

Not Today

Summary: After angrily storming out of Defense Against the Dark Arts class and the library during a study session, experiencing an outburst of rage during Quidditch practice, snapping coldly at Madam Rakepick, and then being found having a breakdown, the gang is very concerned about their normally strong, composed friend and her hostile, emotional change in demeanor. 

Word Count: ~20k

Genre/Warnings: Angst, a little Fluff at the end, Swearing?

Note: I’m not actually sure what genre this is but I guess angst works? A little fluff moment with Charlie at the end, lots of caring and concerned friends, some protective Rowan, and an anxious, stressed out Bill. This ended up being much, much, MUCH longer than originally planned (honestly, the ending became a lot longer than originally planned). I had a lot of feelings! (*insert ‘I just have a lot of feelings* gif from Mean Girls*) So this is more like an emotional venting story, not my best work, but it needed to be done. I also got weirdly into untranslatable words so… enjoy those =p Again, still in Fourth Year in the game even though this story is based on Fifth Year so I apologize for any inconsistencies or errors. – I started writing this before the Halloween event in the game and was already working on the ending when the event started; did add a couple references.

Soundtrack Suggestions: Honestly, I can’t think of any particular songs, I wrote this in a sort of emotional fit of rage, music not necessary, so listen to anything that makes you feel like screaming out in anger and breaking things and then crumble to the ground as a sobbing mess.

Preview: “There are much more difficult things to face and overcome than some cursed artifact or dark wizard. Some things you can never overcome and have to figure out how to cope with every day for the rest of your life. So you can’t stand up there and preach to all of us like you’ve seen it all and overcame it all, like it’s so easy to do, and you just know it all because you don’t! You have no idea how hard it is! And for you to make others who have to endure their challenge every day, who can’t just cast a spell and be rid of it, whose challenge is more about how horribly others treat them because of who they are instead of their actual struggle, feel worse about themselves is wrong. It’s harmful towards individuals and society. You are adding to the narrative and stereotypes, enabling the ignorant hatred and violence, permitting others to turn against people, some good people, who need understanding, compassion, and help. So you and everyone else can shut the fuck up about things you don’t understand because you have no idea, no idea, what real struggle and bravery and strength is.”

The students filed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom looking somewhat sluggish and tired, probably because it was a Monday. They slumped into their desks and took out their required textbook and parchment filled notebooks to take notes on. Keira appeared to be in a particularly down mood today, not that it wasn’t uncommon for her to suddenly fall into a depressing mood when the gravity of her overwhelming situation would abruptly hit her, but this was different. And if anyone had been keeping track of this occurrence they might have discovered a pattern.

“Good afternoon class.” At Madam – er – Professor Rakepick’s voice signaling the start of class, any chatting between the students came to a sudden halt and everyone seemed to sit up straighter at their desks.

“Today I thought it fitting for us to cover one of the most dangerous beasts in the Wizarding world – Werewolves.” Professor Rakepick’s announcement of today’s lesson intrigued a majority of the class, including one Miss Penny Haywood. The popular Hufflepuff’s attention was instantly hooked and, while at first she seemed to pale and appear anxious, she quickly flipped open her book, eager to begin the lesson viewing this as an important learning opportunity. As long as there would be no actual werewolves. Keira, on the other hand, instantly tensed up at the mention of today’s lesson and apprehensively opened up her textbook.

The lesson began generally enough, Professor Rakepick going over common knowledge just in case anyone, probably assuming those muggle born, was unaware of basic facts on werewolves such as the distinctions between a werewolf and regular wolf, a werewolf’s inability to choose whether or not to transform, their inability to remember anything of their former human self when transformed, the falsehood in the muggle world of werewolves being negatively affected by silver, and on the lycanthropy infection that causes it.

Penny diligently took notes on everything Professor Rakepick said even if she was already well aware of the information. Keira couldn’t blame her. She understood Penny endured a traumatic experience with a werewolf and was determined to not allow herself or anyone else she cared about to fall victim to another one. The Slytherin, on the other hand, had yet to take a single mark on her parchment, not even a doodle.

“No, werewolves cannot pass on their lycanthropy to their children,” Professor Rakepick answered a student’s question, appearing a bit annoyed that her lecture was being interrupted, before motioning, albeit rather exasperatedly, to another student whose hand was raised.

“Is there no cure for it?” Professor Rakepick gave a condescending smirk before answering their question.

“No, there is no cure for lycanthropy. However, there is a potion, Wolfsbane Potion, which has proven to allow a werewolf to retain their human mind while transformed which has helped reduce werewolf attacks. It is a very difficult, complicated, and quite expensive to make and very dangerous, even deadly, if made incorrectly,” she added before continuing on with her lecture assuming there would be no more questions interrupting her.

Oh yes, Wolfsbane Potion. Keira remembered asking Professor Snape about it one time in Potions class which of course earned her a glaring look from her Head of House and a comment dripping in disdain. No, they would not be learning that lesson in that class or any other class of his. And she would be a fool to try and attempt it on her own because she would fail miserably and concoct a dangerous poison instead. Why was she interested in that particular potion anyway?

Keira couldn’t remember exactly what excuse she gave him, possibly relating to Penny since Penny was a potion master and always working to advance her technique or create her own potions, and Snape had a soft spot for her so Keira figured dropping Penny’s name couldn’t hurt. Regardless, he dropped it and moved on to the lesson for the day and Keira was incredibly disappointed to discover they would not be learning Wolfsbane Potion then or ever.

She had thought about trying to make it herself but Snape didn’t lie about it being an advanced potion. The ingredients were expensive, sure, but that didn’t faze her at all. And yes, there was a risk buying those particular ingredients since it could alert others to a werewolf’s identity but being a Slytherin and member of the infamous House of Black had its advantages including connections to shady wizards who sold a variety of items secretly including rare potion ingredients. Plus she could always “borrow” some ingredients from Snape – it wouldn’t be the first time nor the last for that. But even if she got the ingredients the risk of messing it up was high.

She had considered asking Penny for her help, who better to help make a potion than her best friend the potions master? But Penny wasn’t stupid, and Keira did not, could not, answer her questions about why she needed this potion. And Penny clearly had her own, personal feelings towards werewolves which could easily cause her to refuse her help. Plus she already asked so much of her friends with finding the Cursed Vaults and this was another personal thing she didn’t want to get them involved in. She had even considered finding someone to pay to make the potion for her, most likely the same type of shady character who would sell the ingredients covertly, but she couldn’t trust someone else to make this type of potion.

No, she would figure this out on her own.

“Werewolves are often shunned and discriminated against in Wizarding society and most believe they are evil creatures who deserve nothing short of death. I’ll let you form your own opinions on them. But I can tell you first hand, facing off against these beasts is a true test of one’s abilities. They are dangerous, murderous, and have killed many wizards, witches, and even muggles,” Professor Rakepick warned causing some student’s to look up fearfully at her.

Keira, on the other hand, simply narrowed her eyes at the Professor. She was quickly growing over this lesson and hoped class was almost over.

Unfortunately, class was nowhere near being over and once Professor Rakepick finished her lesson and warning on how dangerous werewolves were she brought out a practice dummy to demonstrate some defensive and attack spells they could use on a werewolf if they were ever ill-fated to encounter one. Alright, Keira could admit there were absolutely dangerous werewolves out there – she could think of one in particular – and true, they should learn how to defend themselves against one if necessary. However, some of these violent attacks and the overall aggressive attitude of this lesson was starting to wear on her. And honestly, today of all days, she had little patience and tolerance and understanding.

Once she finished her demonstration, Professor Rakepick called the students to come up and form a line to practice the spells she just showed them on the practice dummy. Penny put on a determined face and practically raced up to the front of the classroom. Fortunately it was a basic practice dummy and not one that appeared like an actual werewolf or maybe her attitude would have been different.

And on any other day Keira would admire Penny’s eagerness and bravery to face what happened to her head on and with full dedication, no fear or hesitancy. Keira normally was so proud of Penny’s remarkable ability at coping with her trauma.

But not today.

Today she did not find Penny’s eagerness to learn all she could about werewolves and how to defeat them admirable. She found nothing amusing about the jokes other students made on the topic of today’s lesson. She did not find any of Rakepick’s self-proclaimed daring adventures fighting off werewolves brave or remarkable. And she had nothing but contempt and revulsion at any comments about killing werewolves even if they were directed at a practice dummy.

Yes, there were evil werewolves out there who caused a great deal of harm to others and she planned on ridding the world of a particular one herself one day.

But today…

Today’s lesson and her fellow student’s reaction to it filled her with anger, made her want to cry, and caused her to feel sick to her stomach.

Maybe if this lesson fell on another day, any other day, she wouldn’t feel so strongly. But the lesson had to fall on today and she was not prepared to handle it.

So while the rest of the students made their way up to the front of the class to attack the practice dummy they were supposed to imagine was a werewolf, Keira slammed her textbook shut, shoved her school supplies in her bag, and stood up quickly bumping into her desk and causing it to jolt forward a few inches and slam back down onto the floor. This sudden noise caused the other students and her Professor to look in her direction but Keira showed no signs of acknowledging their attention nor caring about it as she slung her bag over her shoulder and stormed out of the classroom.

She was done.

If she had bothered to look at the front of the classroom she would have noticed the concerned and quizzical looks on her friends’ faces, particularly the dragon obsessed Gryffindor who watched her closely with furrowed brows and searching eyes full of worry.

Keira marched down the labyrinth of hallways and staircases that made up Hogwarts, muttering to herself under her breath at the complete and utter connerie of that lesson, the audacity of Professor Rakepick and those students making their ignorant comments and vicious attacks on the attack dummy. Who did they think they were? They didn’t know anything!

“Miss Black.” Keira stopped dead in her tracks and whirled around when she heard her name called by stern yet gentle voice – she knew really of only one person who could master that type of tone.

“Y-yes, Professor McGonagall,” Keira stammered nervously as it just dawned on her that she was technically skipping class and now had been caught doing so. She was thankful, however, that it was by Professor McGonagall and not Professor Snape.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class? Defense Against the Dark Arts I believe,” Professor McGonagall questioned the young girl who resisted squirming under the powerful witch’s intense gaze.

“W-well, yes, technically I am –“ Keira started, averting her eyes and focusing them on the floor beneath them.

“So then why are you wandering the hallways instead of attending your class,” Professor McGonagall continued her questioning, clasping her hands in front of her.

Keira shifted uncomfortably as she felt the Transfiguration Professor maintain her intense gaze on her, trying to think of how to answer her. “I just… I didn’t exactly agree with today’s lesson,” she eventually replied after what felt like an eternity to her under the close watch of the Gryffindor Head of House. It wasn’t a lie! She couldn’t lie to Professor McGonagall!

“You didn’t agree with the lesson,” Professor McGonagall repeated, astonished by the Slytherin’s reply. She had to admit she was not expecting that answer.

“No, I did not agree with it,” Keira declared adamantly, looking up at the Transfiguration Professor with a sudden conviction and a fiery look in her eyes.

Professor McGonagall studied the tenacious Slytherin. No other students had appeared to have stormed out of the classroom so it could not have been that controversial of a lesson. And she was well aware some lessons, particularly those in regards to the Dark Arts could upset some of their more sensitive students but Keira wasn’t normally one to allow her emotions to get the better of her like this.

“May I ask what this unbearable lesson was, exactly,” Professor McGonagall finally asked, partially she admitted out of her own curiosity. What lesson could have sent this student in particular who dealt with so much, carried so much with them, on a daily basis to finally reach her breaking point? And what if this was a lesson that needed to be examined upon closer inspection and have necessary changes made to it?

Keira’s sudden relentless and bold attitude wavered at the Professor’s next question. “… It was on werewolves, ma’am,” she answered quietly, her gaze once against shifting down to the floor.

Oh here it came. All the questions about why this lesson of all the lessons upset her? Upset her so much it caused her to walk out of class. And then a lecture on the importance of the lessons they learned there at Hogwarts and while some may be difficult or even scary to some they had to learn them. And then she would be forced back into that class. The embarrassment of being ushered back in after her somewhat dramatic exit would just be the icing on the cake to this horrible day today was turning out to be.

But the series of questioning and matter-of-fact lecture that disregarded one’s feelings never came.

Instead Professor McGonagall’s eyes softened for a moment, full of understanding and perhaps even some nostalgia, at Keira’s honest reply. “Well, we can’t have you aimlessly wandering the hallways during class time. Come along,” she said as she glided past the Slytherin to continue down the hall towards her classroom. “It’s been awhile since we’ve had one of your private Transfiguration lessons.”

Keira watched the poised Professor curiously. “What?”

“You should be learning something,” Professor McGonagall stated before motioning towards the open door to her classroom. Once the shock wore off over McGonagall’s kind and generous reaction to her confession of ditching class, Keira grinned and hurried into the Transfiguration classroom. Maybe this day wasn’t so bad after all.

“Very good, Miss Black,” Professor McGonagall praised as the young Slytherin bonded a couple books together.

“Thank you, Professor,” Keira replied before undoing her transfiguration spell. “I appreciate you taking the time to teach me like this.”

“I am a Professor, Miss Black. It is my job to teach. And when I see promising young students like yourself, providing individual private lessons is a pleasure,” Professor McGonagall replied with a kind smile. Keira smiled back at her before attempting to cast Epoximise again. Her attitude had drastically changed from earlier. She had forgotten about being angry and resentful and was enjoying learning a new lesson with a Professor who understood how she felt better than most, if anyone else, at Hogwarts.

“You know, Sirius and his friends were quite skilled at Transfigurations as well,” Professor McGonagall casually mentioned, although there really was nothing casual about it.

Keira paused in her practicing and looked up at her Professor curiously. “Yeah?”

At her gentle prodding Professor McGonagall continued, explaining what she meant further. Alright, sure, she admitted Sirius and his friends tended to get into some trouble but their skills in Transfigurations and other areas of magic were noteworthy. “The only thing more remarkable than their ability to use their impressive magical talents to consistently get into trouble was their unwavering loyal friendship. Which was especially beneficial for Mr. Lupin who always appeared to be a bit of a loner until them. He really seemed to open up, come into his own with them – happier.” A sad smile formed on the distinguished Professor’s face which Keira mirrored.

“You know, it’s good to hear someone speak about them in a positive way,” Keira said after a moment before letting out a hollow chuckle. “Professor Snape only condemns me for my relationship to them.”

“Yes, well Sev- Professor Snape never got along well with them,” Professor McGonagall recalled with a nod of her head.

“Yeah, that’s been made pretty clear,” Keira muttered.

While she thought this topic may prove to be somewhat therapeutic for the Slytherin, Professor McGonagall had to admit she enjoyed reminiscing for a bit with Keira despite the bittersweet subject. And Keira greatly appreciated Professor McGonagall talking to her about it.

“Here’s a list of some books I recommend you read to advance your talents in Transfigurations, if you’re interested. I may even be willing to provide some extra credit if you write a particularly compelling essay on what you learn from them. And if you promise to go straight to the library, no detours, and get straight to work I will let you go,” Professor McGonagall negotiated as she handed her student a piece of parchment with her book suggestions.

“I promise. Straight to the library to quietly read these,” Keira assured her, holding up the list. “I won’t cause anyone any trouble,” she added.

Professor McGonagall smiled warmly down at the Slytherin and nodded her head to silently permit her to leave despite it still being class time for her. Keira thanked her again, and again and again – for everything. For giving her a private lesson and recommending books for her to advance her skills, investing in her and encouraging her, and most importantly talking to her about Sirius and Remus and their time as students which helped her feel closer to her family, one she barely knew. She appreciated McGonagall being there for her.

Keira hurried to the library without any detours, as promised, in a much better mood form earlier. She honestly had forgotten about that class and how it made her feel. Forgot that she was even ditching it!

She wandered up and down the many aisles of books, locating the ones Professor McGonagall suggested for her. She balanced the list on top of the small stack of books she carried in her arms as she now hunted for a spot to sit. The library had been filled recently by Seventh Years preparing for their N.E.W.T.s. Funny, she couldn’t remember other Seventh Year students taking up most of the library any other year.

And speaking of Seventh Years…

Keira’s grey eyes landed on a familiar redhead sitting at the end of one of the tables who looked uncharacteristically anxious with his head in his hands as his eyes frantically scanned one of the many open books laid out in front of him. Oh the poor boy… Keira laughed slightly to herself and shook her head before making her way over to the stressed out eldest Weasley.

“Mind if I join you,” Keira asked quietly as she pulled out a chair for herself. Bill’s head whipped up from his intensive studying to look up at her.

“What? Yeah, sure,” Bill replied frenetically, motioning to the chair she had already pulled out for herself.

Keira frowned slightly as she set her armful of books down on the table and slid her bag off her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“What,” Bill asked again, whipping his head back up once again from the books that continually absorbed all his attention. “Y-yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just studying for my N.E.W.T.s you know, and it’s exhausting! I mean, if it’s this exhausting just studying for them imagine how exhausting it will be taking them!” Bill laughed a bit hysterically as he leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair look positively mad.

Keira stared at him as she set her bag on the ground next to her and took a seat next to the exhausted and somewhat crazed Gryffindor. “…When’s the last time you got some sleep?”

“Sleep? Sleep,” he repeated, growing louder and earning a harsh SHUSH from Madam Pince and some other students in the library studying for their own N.E.W.T.s. “I can’t afford sleep right now,” Bill informed her matter-of-factly in a stern whisper.

“Okay…” Keira replied, grabbing one of the books Professor McGonagall suggested for her. ”Someone needs to drink some Draught of Peace,” she muttered under her breath.

“What,” Bill demanded, giving her a harsh look. What did she just say?!

Uh oh… Quickly, think of a way out of this! “…You can borrow some of my books on Transfigurations if you want. Professor McGonagall recommended them personally,” she offered gently. Crazed, sleep-deprived, anxious Bill scared her.

“Yeah,” Bill asked, eyeing the small stack of books on the table seeming to calm down for the moment. “Thanks.” Keira nodded her head as she watched him closely.

“Will, I’m worried about you,” she confessed.

Bill took a deep breath before replying. “I’m fine, really. I just… I need to do well on these exams so I can become a Curse-Breaker,” he explained, sounding more like his composed self.

“Yeah, not everyone can be skilled enough to break their first curse at age eleven and secure themselves a job before taking their exams. I probably don’t even need to take the N.E.W.T.s. Could just leave school, walk right into Gringotts and inform them that I’m their new Curse-Breaker and they’d be like ‘alright’.” Keira’s teasing reply earned a small smirk from the eldest Weasley.

“No, unfortunately we cannot all be blessed like you,” Bill replied sarcastically, Keira smirking at him now. There was the William she knew and loved.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be in class right now,” Bill suddenly asked causing Keira to tense up slightly. Oh crap, busted again!

“Oh well I… I wasn’t feeling well so I left. Then I ran into Professor McGonagall and she helped me feel better. And then she gave me this list of books she thought I should read to help me advance my Transfigurations skills. And now I share them with you,” Keira replied, passing him one of her books.

“Thanks,” Bill said as he watched her closely. He suspected something more was up but these N.E.W.T.s were constantly stealing his focus. He figured if she or Charlie or anyone else really needed him they would be more direct about it.

The two fell silent as Bill resumed his exhaustive studying and Keira flipped open one of the books suggested to her and began reading. During their quiet studying session Bill let out a frustrated groan and slumped in his seat. Upon further investigation by Keira it was determined the source of Bill’s frustration was Ancient Runes. She slid the book that had currently captured Bill’s attention over so she could take a better look at it before offering her help.

“What about your own stuff,” Bill asked in a defeated tone, motioning to her books on Transfigurations.

“I can read those whenever,” Keira assured, waving off at her books on the table. “Besides, you always help me with Arithmancy,” she pointed out. Oh no, what would she do when he graduated and was no longer there to help her with her Arithmancy?! Her eyes widened as that realization dawned on her.

“Don’t worry, you can always owl me when you need help with your Arithmancy,” Bill assured her, understanding exactly what that look on her face meant.

“I can owl you my homework and you’ll do it for me,” Keira asked with an impish grin.

“That’s not what I sai-“

“Thank you, Will,” Keira cried out joyously as she leaned over to wrap her arms around the Gryffindor prefect and hug him tightly, earning a couple shushes from other students around them but she paid them no mind.

“Okay, alright. Let’s just focus on Ancient Runes for right now,” Bill suggested, patting one of her arms that was snuggly around him a couple times. Keira slowly released the eldest Weasley and began to help him with his studies on Ancient Runes.

So maybe the day had a rough start but it was a thousand times better now. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all…

Soon enough some familiar faces joined them for their study session in the library once their class let out. Penny plopped down in the chair next to Keira, Rowan begrudgingly taking the next seat over while Charlie and Barnaby made themselves comfortable on the other side of the table, the second eldest Weasley sitting next to his brother and across from formerly fuming Slytherin.

“There you are Keira. Is everything okay,” Penny asked, her voice full of concern, just like Charlie’s eyes watching her closely from across the table.

“Yeah, why,” Keira asked as she kept her eyes locked on the book in front of her, suddenly feeling more tense at their arrival. Their presence just reminded her of what she was trying to get away from.

“Because you stormed out of class in a fiery rage,” Barnaby exaggerated causing Rowan to shake her head.

“No, that wasn’t a fiery rage for her,” Rowan informed them. She had seen Keira in a rage and that was not it but she was definitely upset.

“You stormed out of class in a fit of rage,” Bill questioned, his attention suddenly grabbed from his studies. Keira could feel the lecture looming.

“N.E.W.T.s.” That was all Keira had to say for Bill’s focus to instantly go back to his studies.

“It may not have been a fit of rage but you were clearly upset.” Penny steered the conversation back to the topic they came there to discuss and Keira had to resist rolling her eyes. She could feel all of their eyes locked on her and it was close to driving her mad.

“So, why did you leave in the middle of class,” Barnaby asked gently, his voice full of concern. Keira couldn’t give a snide remark when his was genuinely worried.

“I just…wasn’t feeling well,” Keira finally answered with a shrug.

“Did you go see Madam Pomfrey,” Rowan asked. “Because if you haven’t maybe we should go to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Rowan, really,” Keira assured, raising up a hand to signal to her roommate to calm down and stop grabbing her things in preparation to leave. “I’m feeling a lot better,” she added, throwing a reassuring look to her friends, particularly Barnaby who she felt was mere moments away from either hugging her and never letting her go or knocking out anyone that came near her. Or both.

“Okay,” Penny replied after studying her a moment, although she didn’t sound entirely convinced, if Keira didn’t want to talk about it she wasn’t going to force her. “Well you missed quite the exciting class.”

Keira clenched her jaw at Penny’s mention of the day’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class. She couldn’t help but find it a little flippant that they were so concerned about why she left the class so upset and then went right into talking about it and all that she missed.

Her whole body grew tenser as Penny, Rowan, and Barnaby continued to discuss what she missed in class amongst themselves, excited over the new spells they learned. Penny in particular was eager to talk about today’s lesson. It was taking all of Keira’s willpower to keep from exploding at the keen Hufflepuff, from shouting at her to shut up. And to keep from snapping at Charlie to stop staring at her! She knew he was worried about her, and she appreciated it, but he had to stop just staring at her like he was waiting for her to have a breakdown or else she would have one! At least he wasn’t participating in this discussion over their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson for the day. He even tried to steer the conversation to dragons, which was a normal occurrence, and maybe it was a bit narcissistic to think he was doing it for her, but Keira appreciated his efforts to change the topic of discussion since this one clearly upset her. And if anyone recognized what was going on with her, it would be the observant Seeker who always seemed to notice things about her and discern how she was feeling – which honestly sort of weirded her out. She wasn’t use to someone paying so much attention to her like that… Well, besides Rowan.

Alright, maybe it was not so obvious since she hadn’t said anything explicitly but she did leave class upset, which they were just concerned about a few moments ago, and her knuckles were white from gripping her book so tightly, her jaw clenched so tight she worried her teeth may shatter. Not to mention the anger and irritation wafting off of her and making their atmosphere heavy and tense.

“Would be cool to see a werewolf,” Barnaby considered, earning a slight glare from Penny that went unnoticed, fortunately, by the magical creature lover as he continued to think about what seeing a werewolf first hand would be like.

“You sound like Tonks,” Rowan laughed. Her joke seemed to only irritate Penny further and she suddenly turned her attention to the other magical creature obsessed person at the table.

“I assume you would love to run into one in the Forbidden Forest sometime too, huh?” Charlie blinked and looked over at Penny with wide, somewhat fearful eyes, finally breaking his focus from Keira at least. The normally happy and supportive Hufflepuff had such a pointed and accusatory tone it threw him, and everyone else at the table, off. Her piercing glare was also uncharacteristic for her and Charlie wasn’t really sure how to handle this new side of Penny.

Charlie quickly glanced around at the others at the table, Barnaby and Rowan looking just as shocked and thrown off as him, before looking back at the popular Hufflepuff. “I just want to find a dragon,” he awkwardly replied. Everyone knew he was obsessed with dragons. He had never mentioned werewolves once! Why was he suddenly under interrogation?

“A dragon is probably less dangerous than a werewolf,” Penny muttered. Charlie was admittedly too afraid of her at the moment to debate that.

“Werewolves are evil, despicable, abhorrent, murderous creatures. I’m glad we’re learning how to fight against them and stop them from hurting anyone else. They’re like some sort of sinister, destructive, killing epidemic that needs to be extinguished.” Penny’s passionate speech left everyone at the table in silence.

It was unknown how many knew of Penny’s traumatizing experience with a werewolf. Keira suspected she was the only one which made her powerful declaration more shocking to the rest of those at the table; well, except for maybe Bill who was still absorbed into his studies. Barnaby and Rowan stared at the fired-up Hufflepuff with wide eyes while Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his seat and averted his gaze from the intense one of the blonde across the table.

On any other day, Keira would have been more understanding and compassionate towards Penny and her circumstances. She knew what Penny had gone through, what she had lost because of a vicious werewolf attack. As far as she knew she was the only one who knew what Penny went through. Which required her to more supportive for her Hufflepuff friend. And on any other day she would have let Penny’s impassioned speech roll off her back, understanding it was specifically about the situation Penny unfortunately experienced and all the emotions she constantly kept bottled up inside over losing someone close to her – and Keira knew a thing or two about keeping emotions bottled up – and not take it personally.

But not today.

Today Penny’s emotional opinions on werewolves that led her to speak out against them made Keira’s blood boil. It took every ounce of self-control Keira had to keep from flipping the table over, smacking Penny in the face with her book, and blowing up with her own passionate speech about how wrong Penny was and despite her own personal experience it wasn’t universal and her views were ignorant and harmful.

No, she couldn’t trust herself to stay there. The longer she sat there the angrier she got. And the angrier she got the less she was able to control her wrath.

Keira slammed her book shut and stood up abruptly, her chair scooting back, scrapping loudly against the hardwood floors. Her actions earned her a harsh glare from Madam Pince but no loud shushing, possibly from the intense rage and fury rolling off of her in waves tarnishing the entire atmosphere in the library. Her abrupt actions also caused all her friends to stare up at her with wide, somewhat frightened eyes.

“…Keira,” Penny started carefully, the concern from earlier back in her voice. The concern for her back in all her friends’ eyes. She could feel it. And she appreciated it, she did. But right now she could not handle it, handle everything she was feeling right now, and had to get away.

“I have Quidditch practice,” Keira curtly replied as she swung her bag over her shoulder and piled her books in her arms before storming now out of the library. Was this her new thing? Storming out of every room in Hogwarts?

She could feel her friends’ eyes on her as she quickly made her leave. She knew they were worried about her, and again she appreciated it, but for now she prayed they did not follow her and hoped they would eventually forget about all of this so she wouldn’t have to talk about it.

Her friends shared a look between them once Keira left the library, full of questions and worry although no one dared to speak yet while the tense, hostile atmosphere lingered.

That is, until Barnaby gasped suddenly. “Oh! That means I have Quidditch practice too!” In classic Barnaby style, his comment eased the tension and instantly lightened the mood. He grabbed his bag as he stood up to head off to practice as well before Charlie’s voice caused him to pause.

“Hey, uh… make sure she’s okay… Okay?” Barnaby studied the troubled Gryffindor a moment before smiling at his fellow magical creature enthusiast.

“Of course. Once she hits some Bludgers around she’ll feel much better,” Barnaby assured before waving at his friends as he took his leave as well. That normally proved to be therapeutic for her in the past anyways.

Keira walked out of the Quidditch Changing Room and out onto the Pitch after changing into her gear. She preferred using the actual Quidditch Pitch for practices rather than the Training Pitch since the Quidditch Pitch is where matches were actually held and she felt practicing there better prepared her team for a game. She understood the Training Pitch opted for better privacy from any spies since the Quidditch Pitch was surrounded by spectator stands but it also lacked goal hoops which Keira, and most Quidditch captains, found useless. And this being her first year as Quidditch Captain for the Slytherin team, she wanted to give them every advantage.

Fortunately she was on good terms with Charlie and Andre so she wasn’t too concerned about anyone from Gryffindor or Ravenclaw spying on their practices and Hufflepuffs were too honest to do so, right? Although, sometimes she did suspect Andre might take an interest in watching her team’s practice since they tended to get quite competitive with each other over Quidditch.

Most of her team were already gathered around on the field chatting away. They had been going over some new strategies lately that were still written on the board in their Changing Rooms so they were able to refresh their memory before heading out for practice without having a team meeting beforehand to go over it all again. Keira swapped hands holding her broom to adjust one of her arm guards.

Her Quidditch broom was the first big purchase Keira bought on her own that wasn’t necessary school supplies. She knew her adopted parents were not very keen on her getting a broom but she bought it on her own! However, she understood their concern since what happened with Jacob so she agreed to compromise and promised to only use her broom for Quidditch related things like practices and games and the rest of the time Madam Hooch would keep her broom locked up safely. Sometimes it really irked Keira she couldn’t have her broom that she paid for herself, such as last year when she needed to get into the Forbidden Forest, but she did her best to see things from their perspective and be understanding towards their feelings on the matter.

Barnaby soon came trotting out of the Changing Rooms, hopping awkwardly as he held his Beater bat under one arm while he tried to secure one of his shin guards. “I’m here! I’m here,” he called since it appeared like the entire team was out there ready to go and waiting on him.

“Barnabas,” Keira called out to him with a slight sigh. “Your broom.”

Barnaby paused, balancing on one leg as he looked up at his Captain when she called out to him, taking a moment to process what she meant. “Oh yeah!” He turned to quickly head back into the Changing Rooms, muttering some curses as the shin guard he had been working on fell half off, the top not being securely fastened. It made for quite the sight of him awkwardly running with it hanging off his leg that even Keira in her foul mood couldn’t fight off a smile. Soon he returned from the Changing Rooms, broom and bat in hand and shin guard securely on.

Now that everyone was ready with their brooms and equipment securely fastened, the Slytherin team got on their brooms and took to the skies for practice. While normally hitting Bludgers proved to be very therapeutic for her and allowed her to get out her frustrations and stress in a healthy manner, and also kept her from fighting or threatening to fight her peers – her and Barnaby were quite the pair – this time Keira could not shake off this bad mood she was in. But it kept her from flipping table in the library and smacking Penny in the face with a book which she would have definitely regretted so guess it was helping in its own way. She still was incredibly upset though.

“Okay, let’s take a break!” After calling out to her team, Keira landed on the ground with the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team for a brief break to rehydrate.

“Listen, these are some great new formations and all but I think we should be working on making our plays more aggressive,” one of the Chasers suggested.

“Aggressive but nothing illegal, right,” Keira asked, eyeing their teammate who gave her a wicked smirk and shrugged.

“It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught.” Keira sighed and shook her head. Stereotypical Slytherin.

“I’m all for being aggressive but I will not condone reckless and dangerous tactics that are focused on injuring others on purpose,” Keira declared sternly.

“I never said the intent was injuring them. But if they get hurt, well, Quidditch is a tough sport. Got to plan for getting hurt.” Keira sighed again while a couple of her teammates chuckled. What was with people today? Or maybe it was just her and her disgruntled mood.

“Hey, heard you stormed out of Defense Against the Dark Arts today,” their Seeker mentioned casually.

“So,” Keira asked, instantly defensive.

“So… why did you do that,” their Seeker asked before their Keeper chimed in.

“Yeah, I mean if you’re going to ditch class you don’t go and then walk out, you just don’t go.” Keira sighed heavily. Word travelled so fast at this school.

“I heard you also stormed out of the library before practice,” another one of her Chasers added before Keira had the chance to answer her Seeker’s question.

“I heard you were mad at Penny Haywood,” their third Chaser chimed in. Well guess Keira should be happy for once the rumors swirling about her weren’t about her being mad like her brother.

“You’re fighting with Penny Haywood,” the second Chaser gasped. “How can you not get along with Penny? She literally gets along with everyone. Everyone. Even Liz who only talks to animals and that weird loner Ravenclaw. What’s his name? Trevor?”

“It’s Talbott,” Keira snapped slightly. “And I’m not fighting with Penny,” she clarified.

“That’s good because the whole school would turn against you. Everyone loves Penny,” her third Chaser informed her, as if she didn’t know. And Keira did love Penny! She considered her one of her best friends!

“Well I don’t know if you had the same lesson we did, but if so, you missed a cool Defense Against the Dark Arts class,” her Keeper informed her while her two Chasers continued to ramble on about Penny and her popularity.

“We learned about werewolves and how to fight them –“

“Who could possibly have a problem with Penny?”

“I don’t know. It wouldn’t be wise to start anything with her though since she has the whole school on her side –“

“I think Blatching could easily be done – Whoops, didn’t mean to collide into them –“

“So then why did you storm out of the library then?”

“And why are people saying it was because of Penny?”

“David blasted the practice dummy so hard it almost slammed against the wall. Feel bad for any werewolf that crosses him.”

“Are we allowed to elbow an opponent in the face? What if we did it “accidentally”?”

“Are you sure you’re not in a fight with Penny?”

Everyone on her team incessantly talking over one another was beginning to be a bit of a sensory overload and definitely overwhelmingly frustrating.

Instead of Quidditch being a healthy way for her to cope with everything going on in her life it was becoming an added stressor to it. She had hoped practice would help take her mind off of everything going on that day and instead she was getting bombarded by everyone about it!

While any other day Quidditch helped her release her pet up aggression clearly it was not working,

Not today.

Keira suddenly let out a loud, frustrated yell before taking her bat and hitting it aggressively, repeatedly against one of the goal hoops poles as hard as she could. This proved to be much more therapeutic than hitting the Bludgers around. Bonus – it caused everyone on her team to shut up and stare at her with wide, terrified eyes.

Barnaby in particular was affected by Keira’s little outburst of rage. He had seen her hit a Bludger with a lot of force and bark orders as Captain, and he had seen her defend her friends against any bullying but this – this was a side of Keria he had never really seen before. She had snapped!

She normally was able to hold everything together despite what she was going through and was always the ones her friends turned to and relied on for support and reassurance. Even when she got angry over someone teasing one of her friends she never reacted so violently and full of fury. Rowan had told the rest of their gang before about her roommate’s breakdowns, either a sobbing mess or a raging fire, but none of them had ever seen it before. Sure, they sometimes caught her getting a little emotional, a little teary-eyed, but Barnaby never expected her to suddenly snap and attack like that. Fortunately it was the goal hoop and not a person.

Regardless, this angry outburst caused her Beater Buddy to be much more concerned over her and her mental health. He had really thought practice and hitting Bludgers around would fix things like it normally did. But clearly something much more was going on and he had no idea what and, therefore, no idea how to make it better!

After beating on the goal hoop post for a couple minutes while her teammates stared in silent shock, Keira gave the post one more solid hit before throwing her Beater bat behind her with such force all her teammates had to duck to avoid getting smacked in the face with it, their Keeper reaching up to make the save – as they should – and caught it before it flew too far.

“Practice is over,” Keira informed them coldly before grabbing her broom and storming off the Quidditch Pitch and back into the Changing Rooms.

So guess this angry, storming out move was becoming her new thing after all.

Her team watched her go before sharing looks between them. Was she serious? No more practice for the day? Barnaby snatched Keira’s bat out of the Keeper’s hand to return to her, although he thought he should wait until she calmed down a bit first.

Keira did her best to avoid people the rest of the day. She thanked Barnaby for returning her bat to her in the Slytherin Common Room after the Quidditch practice incident. She then had to spend the next ten minutes assuring him she was fine and no she did not want to talk about what happened! But she appreciated his concern. She would feel better tomorrow. Probably. Hopefully.

Keira skipped dinner that evening in the Great Hall which left her friends to try and decipher what was going on with her with the added information Barnaby provided them about what happened during Quidditch Practice.

“She attacked the goal post,” Penny repeated in surprise, trying to imagine it.

“Then she almost took us all out when she threw the bat,” Barnaby added, looking down as he recounted their practice’s events. He was clearly struggling with some inner turmoil himself. “I tried asking her what was wrong and how I could help after practice but she just kept saying she was fine.” How was he supposed to help his friend who was obviously going through something when they didn’t tell him what was wrong?!

“I told you guys she has these rage meltdowns!” Rowan sounded as if she was scolding them all which she sort of was, and did on a regular basis. As Keira’s roommate she was the only one who saw how much Keira was suffering. While she was able to put on a brave face in front of everyone else on a day to day basis, Rowan knew how hard this all was on her. And while Rowan did her best to comfort her friend, and she may not freely admit this but she liked comforting her friend during these moments and being needed, she did try and inform the rest of their group of friends when Keira was having a harder time than others so they could aid in making her feel better and not ask so much of her during those times.

And while their friends agreed to do that, they did not truly understand how much Keira was struggling. Not like Rowan who witnessed it firsthand. Hence, when they always turned to Keira for help with… well, basically everything, needing her reassurance to help her find her brother after offering their help, Rowan couldn’t help but get frustrated with them.

Did they forget that Keira’s brother was missing and could be dead? Did they not fully grasp how hard it was to go looking for your brother, while everyone around you talked about how crazy he was, how he might be a Death Eater, or dead, while trying to save the school from curses, and on top of all that having her life being threatened?! Besides the stress of the Cursed-Vaults and her missing brother, Keira was a Prefect and Quidditch Captain which added more responsibilities to her plate, and had to go to class, do homework, and study for exams, just like the rest of them! Dumbledore, Hagrid, Madam Rosmerta, House Ghosts, other students, and some Professors all asked Keira to help them with something like she didn’t already have enough to deal with! Rowan would smack all these people if she could!

Sometimes she wished the rest of their friends would witness Keira having a breakdown so they would better understand what was going on inside their friend all the time. But, and again she would not freely admit this, Rowan kind of liked being the only one who witnessed Keira’s breakdowns and being the only one there for her best friend during those dark times – like they had a special bond the others didn’t.

“That one wasn’t even that bad. She’s had much worse,” Rowan informed them before taking a bite of her sandwich.

“Well, what do you think is wrong then,” Penny asked, a little snippy at Rowan’s know-it-all attitude. When it was about course work she didn’t mind it but when came to their friend she did not appreciate it being hinted that the rest of them didn’t know or care as much about Keira as she did.

“I don’t know but I can talk to her tonight during Astronomy and see if I can find anything out,” Rowan offered, ignoring Penny’s slightly harsh tone.

“Or, maybe we can go and try to talk to her after dinner,” Penny countered. They were all her friends and they all were concerned about her.

“Guess we could do that too. I just thought maybe going in as a group may put her on the defensive is all,” Rowan reasoned.

“Well then maybe just you and I go then,” Penny bartered, quick with her reply.

“…Okay,” Rowan conceded with a shrug.

“Barnaby, are you okay,” Penny asked the hunched over Slytherin who looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do to make her feel better,” Barnaby cried out in anguish. The rest of dinner pretty much consisted of comforting Barnaby.

Keira hugged her knees to her chest as she sat on the cool ground. A light breeze sent a chill throughout her body but she had no desire to go inside. In fact she sort of welcomed and enjoyed the crisp autumn-almost-winter air. She took another deep breath as her grey eyes stared fixed on the reflection of the night sky on the surface of the Black Lake.

She knew her friends were looking for her, probably wandering all throughout Hogwarts. But she needed to be alone right now. And she hoped if they came out there looking for her they wouldn’t see her still figure sitting in the dark. Fortunately, Hogwarts and its grounds were pretty vast so if they did stumble upon her it shouldn’t be for some time. Or ever, if it was up to Keira.

Another small breeze blew a strand of her hair back, away from her face, sending another chill throughout her body. After a day of so much anger and rage coursing through her, Keira now felt drained. She felt exhausted and completely depressed. She just wanted to curl up by the fire in the Common Room, stare out into the lake, and be left alone, but she knew that wouldn’t be a possibility. Her friends had been on her all day about what was going on with her and she couldn’t escape Rowan and Barnaby in her House’s Common Room. And she felt so guilty keeping things from them and pushing them away when she saw how concerned they were and how much they wanted to help but she couldn’t talk to them about this.

So if she couldn’t stare out into the lake from her Common Room then she would come outside and enjoy it out there in the cold night air. And now, after her day of slamming books and desks, thrashing a goal hoop post, possibly throwing and breaking some things in the Slytherin Dorm while her friends were at dinner, and storming away from everyone in a fit of rage, Keira just wanted to cry.

She had tried so hard to conceal her anger, push it down so she didn’t explode, which obviously didn’t go according to plan since she had her little outbursts, but they could have been worse. She would still have some explaining to do to her friends, which she had no idea what she would say so that added another layer of stress. But she could worry about that tomorrow, that’s what she told herself anyway so she wouldn’t get overwhelmed. And now she was using what little energy she had left to hold back her tears. Although that was beginning to become quite the fail as well as a couple tears escaped her eyes and ran down her face.

Keira didn’t know how long she had been out there, but this was the most calm she had felt all day. Albeit, sad, but at least not full of unbridled rage unsure of what to do with it or how to safely let it out. She could let out her emotions presently, finally able to put down her defenses now that she was finally alone, and cry as much as she wanted without anyone around judging her or her friends panicking over her, trying to figure out what was wrong and how to help. Sometimes, a lot of times, she needed to be alone. And able to just let her emotions out without any questions or judgments or anyone trying to stop her and fix it – things were not so easy to fix!

But she wasn’t ready to let everything tormenting inside of her out just yet. She just wanted to sit there in silence, not thinking about anything and, if she could help it, not feeling anything.

She jumped and whipped her head around when she heard someone approaching from behind her. And of all the people she thought would find her out there – Rowan, Penny, Hagrid, Professor Snape – this was the last one she wanted finding her.

“Are you supposed to be out here at this hour, Miss Black?”

Keira narrowed her eyes at their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher before slowly standing up as her professor continued.

“Not that I’m one to talk. I broke curfew all the time when I was student here,” Professor Rakepick bragged before pausing a moment as she studied the girl. “So, is this where you ran off to when you left in the middle of my class?”

“If you want to punish me for that, go ahead,” Keira replied coldly as she continued to stare out at the lake.

Professor Rakepick looked taken aback by the Slytherin’s reply but quickly wiped that look off her face. “I don’t plan on punishing you, Miss Black,” she informed her student which came as a surprise to Keira, “But I would like an explanation for that display in my class.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Keira answered, using the same excuse as before when her friends asked her. Which wasn’t a total lie – she didn’t feel well! She felt sick to her stomach, in fact!

“Is that so? Yet you did not go see Madam Pomfrey.” Keira could feel Professor Rakepick’s eyes boring into her but she held her ground. “I checked with her after class. After that fit you threw.” Keira tensed up, her hands fisting at her sides. That anger she had been wrestling with all day and finally thought she was rid of was beginning to boil again.

“So if you were, in fact, not feeling well, then why did you not go see Madam Pomfrey,” Professor Rakepick continued to interrogate.

“I ran into Professor McGonagall. We had a private Transfiguration lesson,” Keira informed her.

“Oh I see. So you’d rather learn Transfigurations than how to defend yourself against dark wizards and witches and evil beasts -“ Professor Rakepick stopped as she noticed Keira scoff and shake her head, and she assumed roll her eyes but the Slytherin had yet to look at her. “Well then, if that’s not what the problem is then why don’t you share what is really bothering you,” she commanded, crossing her arms.

Despite this order Keira did not reply forcing Professor Rakepick to make an assumption. “If this is something about the Cursed Vaults –“ she stopped again as Keira let out a hollow laugh.

“You know what your problem is,” Keira suddenly spoke, turning to finally face the former Head Curse-Breaker. Professor Rakepick wasn’t sure if she should be offended or intrigued at what this girl had to say.

“You think you know everything. Have seen everything. Faced it all. You’ve travelled everywhere, facing dangerous creatures and dark wizards and tombs full of traps, breaking curses on numerous artifacts which could kill you – all of this has given you a superiority complex. You walk around here like you’re better than everyone because you think you have faced every challenge life has to throw at you and conquered it, so clearly you’re the most powerful, strongest, and bravest witch there ever was.

“But you don’t know everything. And you definitely have not faced and conquered every challenge life can throw at you – not even close. You have no idea what real bravery and strength is. Real bravery and strength is getting up every day and putting yourself out there to try and make your life better even when the entire world is against you. Being kind and compassionate to others even when all they do is judge and hate you without ever getting to know you. Enduring excruciating mental and physical pain time and time again, being completely alone after losing everyone close to you, but you keep going and never let it consume you.

“There are much more difficult things to face and overcome than some cursed artifact or dark wizard. Some things you can never overcome and have to figure out how to cope with every day for the rest of your life. So you can’t stand up there and preach to all of us like you’ve seen it all and overcame it all, like it’s so easy to do, and you just know it all because you don’t! You have no idea how hard it is! And for you to make others who have to endure their challenge every day, who can’t just cast a spell and be rid of it, whose challenge is more about how horribly others treat them because of who they are instead of their actual struggle, feel worse about themselves is wrong. It’s harmful towards individuals and society. You are adding to the narrative and stereotypes, enabling the ignorant hatred and violence, permitting others to turn against people, some good people, who need understanding, compassion, and help. So you and everyone else can shut the fuck up about things you don’t understand because you have no idea, no idea, what real struggle and bravery and strength is.”

She couldn’t sit back anymore, keeping everything inside, pretending everything was okay.

Not today.

If anyone had seen him out there wandering around the castle grounds at night they would probably assume he was up to his usual dragon expedition. And if anyone had asked him what he was doing, he would probably claim that’s what he was up to. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to admit he was out there looking for her. Maybe because if he did then Penny or Rowan or one of their other friends would want to join him and if he found her he wanted to talk to her alone.

So while the rest of the gang scoured around the ever changing layout of the school, Charlie snuck outside. She may be inside, hiding out in her Dorm or an empty classroom, or maybe even at Hagrid’s or at the Quidditch Pitch. While those were all viable options, Charlie was one of the few who knew about her strong connection to water and how it helped calm her down and bring her peace, even if that meant her jumping fully clothed into the Black Lake and getting in trouble by her Head of House.

He paused when he noticed the figure sitting at the edge of the lake. He had almost completely missed her but upon getting closer realized that it was in fact her sitting there. A small smile formed on his face, perhaps a bit smug that he was the one to find her before anyone else. And he was glad that he found her before anyone else because now he could talk to her alone without Penny and Rowan’s constant questions while trying to outdo each other on support and concern in their suppressed ‘who was Keira’s best friend’ competition, and Barnaby and Tonks doing anything and everything to get her to laugh, their antics growing in ridiculousness and recklessness; and, alright he hated to admit it because he loved his older brother who was also his best friend, but without Bill swooping in with his older brother wisdom and comfort. Yes, Bill was the oldest but Charlie was an older brother too and cared just as much about his younger siblings and could provide older brother love and care too! And he cared just as much for Keira as Bill and the rest of their friends and would always be there for her just like he would be for any of his family.

As he started to make his way towards her, possibly going over what greeting to give when he approached her in his head, Charlie spotted another figure making their way down to Keira adjacent to him. Once he realized who it was as they addressed Keira he darted behind a nearby tree – he didn’t need to get detention or house points taken away, especially as a Prefect. Or get a scolding lecture by Bill. Plus, it would be rude to interrupt, right? Still, he didn’t want to leave Keira to get in trouble either. Maybe he could figure out some reason they were out there so late and save them both from punishment.

As Charlie tried to come up with an excuse as to why he and Keira would be out there in the middle of the night that would be accepted by the Curse-Breaker turned Professor the air suddenly changed. Everything suddenly got heavier, tense, colder, dark.

“You know what you’re problem is?” Charlie looked up as he heard Keira’s cutting tone towards their professor. He had never heard her speak like that before. And to a Professor nonetheless!

Charlie continued to stare in shock as Keira finally exploded after everything building up inside her through the day she tried so desperately to internalize spilled out. But this wasn’t like other times when Keira had unleashed her Irish temper on someone else, normally for bothering one of their friends or at Merula for her morbid jokes about Jacob being dead. This wasn’t like those times Rowan told them about where Keira needed to throw, hit, and break things to finally let out all her pent up anger and frustration. Those were fueled with fire, spoke with a blazing intensity, a raging fury that would cause adrenaline to course through veins and fill the air with this heated tension like a fight was about to break out. One of the reasons she was feared on the Quidditch Pitch.

But this – this was a different side of Keira, one he had never seen. It was dark and cold. Her words were still filled with passion but were made of ice and stung sharply. The heavy, biting cold change in the atmosphere differed wildly from its heated counterpart. It was more ominous, sinister, intimidating. It sent a chill down his spine. This darker side of Keira kind of terrified him. Her eyes were like piercing daggers as she stared down their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, standing her ground firmly. Even as she shouted and swore – oh Merlin she just swore at a professor – her words were still icy and full of disdain. While her Irish temper flared up a call to action, this chilling vibe was more apathetic, like she didn’t care what happened, what the consequences were.

But he knew, under that icy, stone cold exterior and beneath the vicious ire and stinging of her words, this darker side of Keira was hiding a lot of pain. And despite fearing her a bit, being a little intimidated – which he knew she would be flattered by – mostly, Charlie felt heartbroken for her, a wave of compassion where he just wanted to be there for her, support her and allow her to feel safe to let out everything she was holding in and then reassure her and make her smile. Surprising to him, he also felt protective over her. He wanted to do whatever he could to keep her from hurting.

He knew she was suffering a lot over her missing brother, but she was so good at appearing like everything was fine, sometimes they forgot everything she was going through. And then when it showed… it killed him to see her upset. He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if one of his siblings went missing and he had no idea where they were or if they were safe or even alive.

And seeing her upset like this, in a much different way than they had previously witnessed, and having no real knowledge of why she was so upset was agonizing. This was why Barnaby was practically in tears at dinner. If it wasn’t about her brother and the vaults, since she just snapped at Professor Rakepick about assuming it was about that – which was a fair assumption he thought! – then what was it about?

Her frosty and hostile outburst at Professor Rakepick unfortunately still did not give him a lot of clues as to what was really going on with her.

An eerie and tense silence fell once Keira finished. Charlie assumed Professor Rakepick had no idea how to respond to that since who could have predicted she would have gone off like that? And to her? Professor Trelawney would probably claim she could have but no one would believe her.

~*~*~*~*~

Much like Charlie assumed, Professor Rakepick stood there aghast at the student’s outburst. While she did her best to maintain a neutral face it was difficult to completely hide her shock.

“Um….E-excuse me?”

A meek voice interfered through the tense atmosphere causing both women to look towards where it came.

It was fortunate they were interrupted. Professor Rakepick had yet to fully process everything that was said, and how it was said, from this girl to her and therefore had yet to determine how to respond and handle the situation. Normally quick at problem solving and leaping into action, since while risking your life breaking curses one could not always afford the luxury of time to analyze a situation and think through all possible options before choosing one, this particular situation surprisingly had caught her off guard and threw her off enough that she did need a moment to step back and think about what action to take.

And for Keira, well, it delayed her from getting punished, she assumed, and took the attention off of her even if just for a moment. Even from the Gryffindor boy hiding nearby behind a tree, unknown to her and their professor, whose attention was also grabbed by the surprise appearance of another person.

Rowan stood there awkwardly, looking nervously between her best friend and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Both were unsure how long Rowan had been there, how much she had heard, but she looked pretty frightened and uncomfortable.

“S-sorry to interrupt,” Rowan started as both women turned their attention to her. She shifted uncomfortably under their intense gazes and avoided eye contact with either of them. “It’s um… we uh…” she stammered, fidgeting with her hands. “We have Astronomy class,” she finally managed to get out.

Professor Rakepick studied the intruder before looking back at Keira with a smirk. “Well, it looks like it’s your lucky day. You have a viable excuse to get out of this conversation.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” Keira replied in that same cold, sharp tone, turning her attention back to the red haired professor. “This wasn’t a conversation.”

Once again, Professor Rakepick wasn’t sure if she should be disrespected or impressed with how her student was speaking to her, challenging her.

“Really? Well Miss Black –“

“I have class.” Keira cut her off curtly as she waltzed right past the professor and over towards the still fearful looking Rowan. “Let’s go Rowan.”

Rowan glanced over as her roommate and best friend walked past her and continued to head back toward the school, flinching slightly at her dark tone, before looking back over at Professor Rakepick. She gave her a sheepish, apologetic smile before turning and hurrying to catch up with Keira, or at least get away from their Professor and tense atmosphere before Professor Rakepick turned her frustration on her.

Keira didn’t talk the entire way back to the school and up to the Astronomy Tower. She didn’t even complain about the stairs as she always did. Barnaby and Rowan shared concerned looks the entire walk to the Astronomy Tower and throughout class.

And while everyone looked through their telescopes and charted the stars on their charts, Keira just stood there looking up at the sky. Rowan and Barnaby glanced over worriedly at her as they worked on their class work.

“You can borrow my star chart if you need it,” Rowan offered quietly, a little nervous to experience that darker version of her friend again, especially directed at her.

Instead, however, a faint smile formed on Keira’s face as she continued to stare up at the sky. “Thanks, Rowan,” she answered softly. She clearly would need it since she wasn’t doing any work during class.

“You can borrow mine too if you want,” Barnaby offered. “I made my own constellation of a Kneazle,” he announced rather proudly.

“Very impressive, Barnaby,” Keira told him in the same soft tone as she continued to stare up at the sky. She would appreciate his constellation more later. Despite her lack of enthusiasm, Barnaby still grinned proudly at her praise.

Soon enough class was over with Keira not doing an ounce of work. “Come on, Keira. Let’s head back to the dorm,” Rowan said as she slid her mittens back on. The chilly weather alluded to winter right around the corner. “We can sit in front of the fire and get warm. I’ll make cocoa.”

“Ooo, cocoa,” Barnaby exclaimed excitedly.

“You guys go on ahead. I’ll be down later,” Keira told them, still standing in the same place and staring at the sky as she had been all through class.

“Are you sure? It’s getting pretty cold out here,” Rowan said, staring at her friend uneasily.

“I’m fine,” Keira assured. “Canadian, remember,” she added with a small smirk causing Rowan to visibly relax. There was her friend who she knew and loved.

“We can stay out here with you then,” Rowan said, glancing at Barnaby before she set her bag back down.

“No, thank you. I’d rather be alone,” Keira told them.

Rowan frowned slightly and shared another concerned look with Barnaby before hesitantly picking her bag back up. “Okay, well, if you’re sure. Don’t stay out here too long though,” Rowan gently warned her.  That glimmer of her friend being her normal self gave Rowan a sliver of hope that she was okay, or at least would be soon, and made her feel comfortable enough to leave Keira alone. Rowan motioned to Barnaby to follow her as she headed for the Astronomy Tower stairs.

A feeling of extra weight on her shoulders was the only thing that broke Keira from her trance on the sky. She looked over, surprised to see a smiling Barnaby who was laying his robes over her shoulders. “Two sets of robes should keep you warmer than one.”

Keira stared at him a moment before smiling back at him gratefully. “Thank you, Barnaby.” She was amazed she didn’t start crying right then and there. This whole time she had been fighting back tears and his sweet, thoughtful gesture almost caused her to break.

Barnaby smiled more and nodded at her before picking up his bag and hurrying after Rowan. “Don’t be too long or there won’t be any cocoa left!” It may have been something small but he was happy to see Keira smile and be able to make her feel better, even if just a little bit.

Keira watched her friends leave, a small appreciative smile on her face. However, as soon as the door shut behind them tears began to steam down her face. Finally alone and exhausted from her day of trying to hold everything in and keeping it together, and failing in emotional filled outbursts, Keira allowed herself to relinquish her emotions, crumbling to the cold, hard floor.

“It was really scary,” Rowan admitted as she finished telling Barnaby about the outburst she witnessed Keira have at Professor Rakepick.

“Wow… She’s not going to get expelled, is she,” Barnaby asked anxiously.

“I hope not. But I don’t think Professor Rakepick would do that,” Rowan assured after a brief moment of thought. “It was just…so weird seeing her like that. It wasn’t like her other breakdowns it was –“

“Darker?” Rowan and Barnaby paused outside their Common Room entrance as a familiar figure stepped out from their hiding spot – had to avoid Professor Snape!

“Yeah…What are you doing down here, Charlie” Rowan asked as she studied the Gryffindor suspiciously.

“Where’s Ady,” Charlie asked, getting straight to the point. His direct and serious attitude was very different than his usual calm and cheerful self.

“You’re a Seeker. Why don’t you find her yourself,” Rowan replied, folding her arms being the ever protective friend that she was.

“I just wanted to talk to her, make sure she was okay,” Charlie sighed. “I saw the outburst down at the lake at Professor Rakepick,” he admitted in a whisper causing Rowan’s eyes to widen.

“You did? How? Where? I didn’t see you –“

“I was behind a tree –“

“So you were spying?”

“No, I – look, that doesn’t matter. I just want to make sure she’s okay. So where is she?” Rowan continued to study the Gryffindor silently. She couldn’t help being protective over Keira. She was her first and, in a way, only friend. Sure, they had made this group but she was well aware the lynchpin that got them and held them all together was Keira. None of them would even acknowledge her existence if it wasn’t for Keira. Well, maybe Penny who befriended everyone, even the loners.

She knew she could be overprotective of Keira and become fearful of her connecting with and getting closer to others because she was afraid of losing her. So being the only close friend that was also her roommate allowed her to have a special connection with Keira by being there for her during her late night breakdowns and nightmares. And she didn’t want to lose her role as the comforting, supportive friend during those dark times. Because if someone else started doing that for her, then what would Keira need her for? That’s what Rowan feared anyway.

And while their gang liked to talk about the possible blossoming relationship between Charlie and Keira that they both seemed completely oblivious too, Rowan would be damned if she would allow a love-struck Weasley to take her place in Keira’s life!

“She’s still up on top of the Astronomy Tower,” Barnaby answered when Rowan seemed to refuse to.

“Barnaby,” Rowan scolded.

“Did she get hold up after class by Professor Sinistra,” Charlie asked, turning his attention to Barnaby who was proving to be much more helpful than Rowan!

“No. She said she wanted to be alone. Even turned down cocoa,” Barnaby informed him, earning him another glare from Rowan which he seemed oblivious to.

Charlie nodded his head as he listened to his fellow magical creature enthusiast before grinning at him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Barnaby.”

“Wait,” Rowan called as Charlie started to hurry down the hall, causing him to skid to a halt and look back at her quizzically. She paused a moment as she contemplated her next move before sighing and giving in. “Bring her some blankets. It’s cold.”

Charlie smiled softly at her as he hurried back over to them. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks.”

“I gave her my robes to help her keep warm,” Barnaby chimed in.

Charlie grinned at him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “That was very thoughtful of you, I’m sure they’re helping a lot.”

Once Rowan returned from the Slytherin Dorm with a couple blankets piled in her arms she handed them off to Charlie, albeit a bit reluctantly. “Don’t be up there too long.”

“Yeah, you guys have to come down and have cocoa with us,” Barnaby added with a grin which was the complete opposite vibe of Rowan’s warning.

“Cocoa sounds great. I’ll do my best,” Charlie told them, thanking Rowan again for the blanket before he hurried off to the Astronomy Tower.

“Ady,” Charlie called as he entered the top of the Astronomy Tower. His eyes scanned the area before he began walking around, trying to find his friend. “Ady, are you still up here?”

Keira had slid down the parapet that surrounded the tower collapsing onto the floor, Barnaby’s robes still wrapped around her. She sat on the ground, curled up into a ball, withdrawing into herself. Her knees were pulled up to her chest with her head buried in them, her hands tangled up in her hair as she clawed at her scalp, shoving her hair out of her face, as she quietly sobbed.

Charlie stopped and stared at the heartbreaking scene before him. His chest tightened as he tried to process seeing the normally so strong and put together Keira looking utterly hopeless and defenseless. Besides probably Rowan, none of them had ever seen Keira like this. Even when Rowan told them about Keira’s breakdowns he could never really envision it. She kept so much to herself. She never wanted them to see her like this. She didn’t want Rowan to either but it was hard to hide it from her.

For a moment Charlie thought about leaving her alone and giving her her privacy. However, when he saw her shiver from the increasingly frosty air he glanced down at the blankets in his arms before daring to walk over to her.

Keira’s head jolted up when she felt another weight on her shoulders. How did this keep happening? She glanced briefly at the blanket around her shoulders before looking up at the culprit, very surprised not to see Rowan or Barnaby.

“…Charlie,” she asked, as if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

“Hey,” Charlie greeted softly, with a small warm smile.

“Wh-what are you doing up here,” Keira asked as she quickly wiped away her tears still streaming down her face.

Charlie frowned slightly as he watched her. He didn’t mean to embarrass her. “Well, I heard you turned down cocoa to stay up here so I thought I should bring you some blankets to make sure you stay warm.” He tried to lightly joke about the cocoa, throwing her a reassuring smile but unfortunately that didn’t seem to make the situation much better.

“I’m fine. It’s not that cold,” she sniffled. “And I’d prefer chocolate right now over cocoa.”

“Right, right, I know, Canadian. Still,” Charlie said handing out the other blanket to her. “And I’ll remember chocolate for next time,” he added with another grin, another attempt to get her to smile, even a little one.

Keira eyed the blanket a moment before begrudgingly taking it from him. There, was he happy now?

Apparently he was since he smiled slightly as he watched her drape the blanket over her lap, doing her best to cocoon herself in the blanket layers around her.

“There. You gave me the blankets, I’m all toasty warm now, so you can go. Go and have cocoa with the rest of them,” Keira dismissed, waving a hand at him and the staircase door as she avoided eye contact with him.

“…What about you,” Charlie asked tenderly.

Keira froze up a moment at the unexpected gentle and caring tone of his voice. Why did he have to be so sweet? Made it hard to be cold and dismissive in an attempt to push her friends away when they were so caring!

“I’m fine. I want to be alone,” she informed him, hugging the blanket around her shoulders closer to her.

Charlie nodded his head and studied her a moment, contemplating his next move before slipping his bag off over his head and sitting on the ground next to her.

“What are you doing? I said I want to be alone,” Keira snapped.

“I know but I don’t think it’s good for you to be alone right now,” Charlie answered. Keira turned her head slightly to watch the Gryffindor closely as he made himself comfortable on the floor next to her, scooting under the blankets with her, draping them over his lap and shoulders as well.

She tried to think of something to say to argue his statement but she was having a hard time coming up with anything. Probably because he may be right.

Plus the fact that the second eldest Weasley radiated warmth like his favorite creatures was comforting in its own way in the chilly night air.

Once Charlie got himself situated under the blankets he smiled warmly over at her causing Keira to glance away. Sorry, Charlie, but she was not in the mood to be smiling and happy just yet so she had to get away from his infectious grin.

“I suppose you want to talk, know what’s going on with me,” Keira muttered as she wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging her knees closer to her, her right arm brushing against him since they had to be practically pressed together to both be completely covered under the blankets.

“Only if you need to. We don’t have to talk about it you don’t want to,” Charlie assured. “Don’t have to talk at all even.” Unlike some of their other friends, like Rowan who had such a thirst for knowledge, who would want to know, need to know, what was going on to make her so upset to comfort her, Charlie just wanted to make her feel better. Sure, he would like to know what was bothering her to better help, but he wanted to be a comforting and supportive figure at all times, for anything going on with her, even things she didn’t want to discuss. Or wasn’t ready to talk about yet.

So whenever she was upset about anything she knew she could always turn to him and he would be there and wouldn’t interrogate her with a million questions. He was simply there for her in any way she needed. If she needed to talk something out, or just vent and have someone listen, have someone lighten the mood and take her mind off of things, or even someone to just have near as they sat in silence with.

They sat in silence for a while, Charlie shifting to lean back against the parapet as he stared up at the night sky.

“You probably think I’m crazy,” Keira murmured after a moment, breaking the silence.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Charlie assured with a small chuckle.

“I keep storming out of rooms and I’m sure Barnaby told you guys what happened at Quidditch practice,” Keira said before a realization dawned on her. “And I’m sure Rowan told you about what happened before Astronomy Class,” she groaned, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

“Oh yeah, your outburst at Professor Rakepick,” Charlie murmured, remembering it himself.

“So she did tell you about it, great,” Keira grumbled.

“Well… not exactly. I mean, I think I overhead her talking to Barnaby about it but…” Charlie watched her a moment before sighing. He didn’t want to upset her more by telling her he saw her outburst at Professor Rakepick firsthand but he also didn’t want to lie to her or make her think her friends were sitting around talking about her negatively. “I sort of…saw it. I was… kind of there,” he admitted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What?” Keira’s head popped up off her knees before turning to face him, the first time all night she had directly looked at him that wasn’t some passing glance. Charlie was now the one avoiding eye contact as he continued to stare up at the sky trying to ignore her heated gaze on him. “What do you mean you were there? I didn’t see you!”

Oh great, déjà vu.

“I was behind a tree… I was looking for you to make sure you were okay and I found you the same time Professor Rakepick did, she was just closer. So I hid behind a tree and tried to figure out a reason why we were both outside so late so I could get us out of trouble. Before I had time to do that you sort of went off on her. I didn’t know you were going to do that!” Charlie quickly explained the situation from his point of view before she had a chance to start accusing him of being a creeper spy like Rowan did or thinking poorly of him.

“Oh my – putain de merde!” That set Keira off on another outburst but in French as she did some times when she was so overwhelmed or upset she couldn’t fathom it in English, so Charlie had no real idea what she was saying but she was flailing her hands a lot and appeared to be mortified so he could assume what she was going on about.

“Okay, okay, okay! It’s alright, I don’t think less of you or anything,” Charlie tried to reassure as he grabbed at her hands to stop them from flailing and grab her attention. He managed to finally capture her hands in his after a few failed attempts, stopping her frantic hand waving that accompanied her bi-lingual rant. He lowered their hands to their laps as she started to calm down and thankfully stopped her French rambling. His warm hands encompassing her naturally icy ones provided their own comfort and calming quality.

“It’s okay,” he said again gently, “I know you weren’t planning on having an audience or probably even planning on having that outburst – although, I must say it did sound pretty well thought out,” he complimented causing Keira to groan. Like she wasn’t embarrassed enough! “And, alright, I admit it was a little frightening, but-“ Keira let out another mortified groan and sunk her head lower, “But,” he reiterated, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze, “It was also… pretty impressive. I mean, badass. That’s what you’d like to be called, right? You stood up for what you believe. That’s what it sounded like anyway. And you stood up to Professor Rakepick which is not an easy thing to do. Well, easier than standing up to Professor Snape probably,” he laughed slightly.

“Listen, I know you’re having a hard day. We all know you’re having a hard day. And that’s okay. You don’t have to hold everything inside all the time. It’s not healthy. It’ll take a toll on you. And it’s going to find its way out in one way or another. And sometimes when you’re having a hard time you can’t help spreading that around, snapping at people… misery loves company, that’s what my mum says. And sure, you’re bound to be embarrassed by your behavior because it’s emotional and out of the norm, especially for you because, you know, you don’t really like being emotional. But we all have bad days and times when our emotions get the best of us, so we understand. I mean, you’re always there for us when we’re struggling and having a bad day and are understanding and don’t think any less of us, so why wouldn’t we do the same for you?”

Keira seemed to relax as she listened to Charlie’s reassuring words, letting them sink in as she processed them. Charlie watched her a moment before smiling encouragingly. “And, to be honest, I think she was kind of impressed with you going off on her like that. I don’t think you’re going to get in too much trouble. Maybe none at all.”

“So… you don’t think I’m crazy or irrational or whatever,” Keira asked quietly as she kept her gaze down.

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re having a hard, emotionally exhausting time and it finally burst out after you tried to hold it all in,” Charlie reassured, causing a small smile to form on Keira’s face even if only for a brief moment.

“Wow, you’re a great Prefect,” Keira told him before quickly adding after a beat, “And older brother.”

Charlie couldn’t help but beam at that compliment. “Thank you.” Take that, Bill!

“I don’t know how you and Rowan could ever look at me the same after witnessing that,” Keira admitted.

“We’re both worried about you. And, okay, maybe a little more scared of you than before but I thought you’d like that,” Charlie teased, surprised to hear a small laugh escape from Keira.

“You guys have to stop worrying about me so much,” Keira told him.

Charlie couldn’t help but scoff slightly. “Easier said than done. I care about you.” Keira looked up at him, appearing somewhat surprised by his honest and genuine declaration. Her grey eyes locking on his caused him to falter briefly. “W-we care about you. We’re you’re friends,” he added much more clumsily than his previous statement.

Keira’s eyes searched his face a moment before smiling softly. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have such amazing, caring people in my life.”

Charlie smiled back at her, giving her hands another squeeze before the sudden realization they were still holding hands dawned on both of them and a faint blush spread across both their faces.

“Uh, well, you know, we’re your friends,” Charlie said inelegantly as they both awkwardly took their hands away from each other. He cleared his throat before continuing. “We’re your friends. We care about you. And when you care about someone you’re always there for them no matter what.”

Keira nodded her head a couple times, agreeing with his statement, before her face started to scrunch up as she tried to hold back more tears but it was in vain. Charlie tensed up as tears once again ran down Keira’s face. Those were not happy tears! Oh crap, what did he do to make her start crying again? He thought they had gotten past this and she was smiling and laughing and feeling better!

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” Charlie panicked slightly as Keira buried her face in her hands. He didn’t know what he said or did to cause her to cry but he felt awful. He slid his arm underneath the blanket resting across their shoulders and hesitantly draped an arm around her shaking frame. He knew she wasn’t really comfortable with a lot of physical contact but in his family they were pretty tactile, physically affectionate and comforting people. Fortunately, she didn’t shrink away from him or seem to mind the physical act of comfort at all.

After a few moments Keira seemed to calm her breathing down enough to speak clearly. “No, you’re right. And I want to help, I just don’t know how,” she wept.

Charlie watched her attentively, trying to decipher what she was talking about. He felt it was safe to determine she wanted to help someone but didn’t know how to, but who she wanted to help and why she was struggling so much with what to do was a complete blank for him. Was it one of their friends? Was someone in their group having an issue they were all unaware of? Keira was normally the one everyone in their gang opened up to.

“Well, I’m sure we can figure something out –“ he tried to reassure before she cut him off.

“I can’t tell you.” Charlie nodded his head. Okay, he could understand if it was a private matter. But then how was he supposed to help her figure out how to help this person if he didn’t know what the problem was?

“It’s just not fair,” Keira continued. “Someone so giving and caring and good – a good person – should not have to suffer and struggle so much! And I just want to help but I can’t,” she sobbed as Charlie attempted to soothe her by rubbing her back.

“Why can’t you,” Charlie asked gently, hoping this was a safer question and route to go than what the actual problem was for whomever they were talking about.

“Because,” she shouted defensively before her shoulders slumped and she once again appeared broken and defeated, “I’m not capable enough to.”

Charlie was unable to hold back his cynical laugh but he did his best to stifle it, especially when Keira looked rather offended by it.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I just… You? Not being capable? Come on.” Keira continued to stare at him incredulously. “You have overcame every obstacle that’s stood in your way when facing these Cursed Vaults and finding your brother. You’ve learned every charm, potion, transfiguration, learned all you can about any and all subjects even remotely related to these Vaults, you’ve snuck into forbidden places, dueled and fought off powerful witches, wizards, and creatures – there’s nothing you can’t overcome. So pardon me for not believing you when you say you’re not capable enough.”

Keira studied him a moment silently before turning to look away, casting her gaze down once again. “There you go again with the reassuring, big brother/Prefect, speech,” she muttered.

“Ah, but I’m not your big brother or your Prefect,” Charlie replied, grinning at her compliment nonetheless and the fact that it had helped, even a little, since she was no longer a bawling mess.

“No, you’re not,” Keira agreed quietly. She suddenly felt a sharp pain in her chest as more tears welled up in her eyes. Oh, Merlin, she wished Jacob was here. She could talk to Jacob about this. He’d be the only one to really understand what she was feeling. She took in a deep, shaky breath as she shoved thoughts of Jacob aside. She could not handle missing her brother on top of everything else she was dealing with today. She was already overwhelmed enough, adding Jacob to the equation… it would be too much, overpowering; it would be disastrous. “And I appreciate you saying all that. But I think the only reason I’m able to do all that is because you guys all help me,” she admitted.

“I don’t know. You’re a pretty determined person. I think even without us helping you’d find a way,” Charlie disclosed to her, resting his arm around her shoulders once again, a bit more casually this time, causing Keira to scoff slightly.

“Determined? Or stubborn,” she asked with a small smirk.

Charlie smirked slightly himself before replying. “You’re strong and smart and brave – you’re highly capable. We’re just here to offer our support.”

“I could have never gotten into or through the Forbidden Forest without you,” Keira said, turning to look up at him once again. Her sincere confession had caught the Gryffindor off guard as he sat there sort of gawking at her. Hey, he was supposed to be the one reassuring her, not the other way around! But hearing that she needed him really touched him. A faint blush spread across his face and he swore he saw Keira smirk smugly to herself, if even for a brief second.

“And I could never brew potions as great as Penny,” Keira added, snapping Charlie out of his thoughts.

“Well no one can brew potions like Penny, not even Professor Snape,” Charlie declared. Keira nodded her head slightly before resting her chin on top of her knees, once again looking defeated and lost. Charlie watched her a moment with a frown before a thought dawned on him.

“Wait, is that what you need? A potion?” When Keira didn’t reply he continued. “Because if you need a potion you could ask Penny. She would do anything to help you and making a potion is clearly no problem for her. And you know it would be done right, so why don’t you just –“

“I can’t.” Keira cut him off once again with a cold remark.

“I’m sure she could make it no questions asked if you tell her you can’t disclose to her why you need it. She would understand. And it’s for you. She’d make you any potion you wanted even if you didn’t tell her why you needed it,” Charlie tried to reassure.

“It’s not that simple,” Keira informed him but that didn’t really tell Charlie much.

“Why not,” he asked innocently.

“Because it’s not! It’s more complicated than that and I can’t tell you why it is! And even if I did ask her to make me this potion I need without telling her explicitly who or what it’s for she would easily figure it out. So, no, I cannot ask Penny to make me the potion I need.” Charlie couldn’t help but flinch slightly at her harsh tone but he understood her frustration and knew it wasn’t personal.

“Okay… So why not try and make it yourself,” he suggested carefully.

“I can’t! I told you I’m not capable. It’s complicated and hard and I’ll probably make some deadly poison instead,” Keira groaned before placing her forehead against her knees as she buried her face once again in despair.

Charlie resumed rubbing her back as he thought of what to say. Since his attempts at reassuring her and providing helpful suggestions were not going over well, he thought he’d try his hand again at lightening the mood. “Maybe Professor Snape will help you,” he joked, causing a hollow laugh from the downtrodden Slytherin.

“I thought about trying to find some to buy from some shady dealer in Knockturn Alley or something but I wouldn’t feel comfortable trusting it,” Keira admitted as she sat back upright.

“I’m sorry I’m not very good at Potions,” Charlie admitted apologetically.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to be anyway,” Keira replied.

“Hey!” Now it was Charlie’s turn to be the offended one. His insulted cry caused the Slytherin to laugh as she apologized, and this time it actually sounded like a genuine laugh which encouraged him to continue. “You think the only thing I’m good for is trekking around the Forbidden Forest?”

“No. You also know a lot about Quidditch,” Keira retorted with a smirk before laughing more at Charlie’s exaggerated reaction.

“Oh so I’m good for two things! When you want to talk about Quidditch or hear about dragons Charlie is the one you need! Need a potion or skilled wizard don’t bother.”

“That’s not true,” Keira told him between laughs. “Andre is the one to go to to talk about Quidditch.”

“Ohhhh well excuse me,” Charlie cried out, causing Keira to laugh more. “So I’m just the one to go to when it’s about dragons or wandering around the Forbidden Forest? And I specify dragons because I know if I say magical creatures you’ll say you have Barnaby for that,” he accused, Keira nodding her head to confirm his suspicion. “Oh, okay, so I’m just the dragon specialist then?”

“Dragon Master,” Keira corrected.

“Dragon Mas- Dragon Master? Actually that’s a pretty cool title. Dragon Master.” Charlie stopped his overdramatic antics to mull over this new name while Keira’s laughter finally started to die down.

She really needed that.

Charlie looked over at her, once he decided that Dragon Master should be his official new nickname, and smiled to himself as he saw her finally smiling. Even if it didn’t completely reach her eyes, even if there was still this hopelessness lingering around her, he made her smile, got her to laugh, and gave her a little bit more happiness in this awful day she was having.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, grabbing her attention as she looked up at him curiously. “We’ll figure it out.” Keira smiled sadly up at him but there was a small glimmer of hope in her eyes. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before, much to his surprise, Keira shifted to lay her head on his shoulder.

“Did you want to see some drawings I did today instead of taking notes in class,” Charlie asked after a moment, reaching over to grab his bag with his free hand. He felt like he had his best luck that night at making her feel better by getting her mind off of whatever was bothering her.

“Are they of dragons,” Keira asked in a slight mocking tone.

“I wouldn’t be the Dragon Master if they weren’t,” Charlie retorted as he brought out his notes from today’s lessons and laid them on his lap. “This is a Hungarian Horntail,” he started, pointing to a dragon sketch on top of his Charms notes.

“Of course it is,” Keira muttered. He drew one of those every day, she swore, since it was his favorite.

“Yeah, yeah,” Charlie teased, moving on to the next page of notes. “These are a couple of ideas I had if you bred a Swedish Short-Snout with a Chinese Fireball.” Keira let out a small chuckle at the weird looking snout that could possibly be produced if these two breeds ever mated. Charlie smiled to himself as he heard her amused laugh. So far, so good.

He appreciated that he could talk to her for hours about dragons, his theories, show her his drawings like these of what crossbreeds may look like, and she never appeared bored or annoyed. In fact she would ask insightful questions about his theories, sometimes even add to them, ask about dragon blood uses, if there were ethical ways to attain dragon hide-made clothing or dragon horns which are used in many potions.

Charlie turned to his next page of notes before tensing up slightly. Oh no, these were his Defense Against the Dark Arts notes. That’s when her already bad day became unbearable. Maybe he could just casually set those aside and move on to another page…

“What’s that,” Keira asked, pointing to a drawing he had done on the bottom of his parchment.

Charlie hesitated before answering her. If this made her start crying again he might as well pack up and leave because clearly he wasn’t comforting her as well as he should be, or at least wanted to be. He didn’t want to keep making her feel reassured and laugh to then become a sobbing mess again! He had to break this cycle!

“That’s uh… Well, you know today’s lesson was on werewolves so naturally I thought what would happen if a werewolf bit a dragon,” he cautiously explained, watching her closely as she continued to stare at his dragon drawing. So far no crying…

“So, I present to you the weredragon,” Charlie said a bit proudly of his new creation. His illustration depicted a creature with a dragon body and tail but werewolf like claws and a werewolf head, fur trailing down its neck and tail and along the back of its legs as well as along its wings. Keira studied the image closely, silently, the expression on her face unreadable. He was not going to be able to handle it if she burst into tears again, especially because of him and his drawing he just had to show her.

“…What do you think,” he asked warily. He was stunned when a smile crept onto her face. He for sure thought this was going to lead to another emotional breakdown, one he would feel entirely responsible for and, therefore, horrible.

“I love it.” Well that certainly was not the reaction he was expecting! “I think it’s my favorite.” Charlie grinned to himself and relaxed as Keira stared at his drawing fondly.

“Yeah? Well then I’ll draw you your own and you can hang it up in your room,” Charlie told her.

“Only if you sign it,” Keira replied, glancing up at him briefly to throw him a small smile, earning a smile back from the Gryffindor.

“Okay, but it’s not going to be worth anything,” Charlie replied.

“It’s worth something to me,” Keira informed him.

Charlie grinned to himself as he felt warmth spread within him from his chest. He slid his Defense Against the Dark Arts notes onto her lap so she could continue to admire his illustration before continuing on with his next set of notes. “This is an Ukranian Ironbelly setting fire to a small village.”

“Wow, that’s a bit gruesome and dark for you,” Keira observed.

“I have to stay true to the dragons and their natural instincts. Besides, the people of this village probably try to steal its eggs and kill its kind so it’s just retaliating to defend itself and kin,” Charlie explained.

“Wow so there’s like a whole backstory to your drawings,” Keira teased. “Maybe you should write a book.” Charlie chuckled before attempting to further this tale he already began, even creating some actual characters with names and their own backstory, lightheartedly cultivating this imaginary book of his.

The two sat atop the Astronomy Tower, discussing dragons, other magical creatures, and wherever their conversation led them, exchanging ideas, balancing out their teasing with reassuring encouragement, accompanied with some laughter.

The image of the couple cuddled up under their layers of blankets as they deepened their bond through meaningful, pleasant, and enjoyable conversation was illuminated by the bright light radiating down from the full moon that hung ominously in the velvet night sky.

“That’s Algiz, that’s Teiwaz,” Keira explained as she motioned to the corresponding runes, causing the eldest Weasley to stare at his practice test she administered for him in confusion.

“How do you remember all this,” Bill asked as he continued to look over his answers, focusing on the wrong ones.

Keira shrugged. “I don’t know, just do. They’re used in alchemy and I love alchemy so maybe that’s why,” she suggested. Bill nodded his head, half listening to her before groaning, his head flopping back on to the couch. The two were sitting on the floor in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, leaning comfortably back against the couch. Keira had perfected the art of getting in and out of other Common Rooms, partially with Penny’s help who somehow learned how to get in and out of every House’s Common Room in her First Year – her popularity most likely aided in that. But Keira figured out her own way of getting into the Gryffindor Common Room all by herself Second Year, which she was pretty proud of. And who didn’t like being a little rebellious and being somewhere they shouldn’t be? Fortunately, no one really seemed to mind when she was in another House’s Dorm.

“I’m never going to get this,” Bill groaned hopelessly. “How am I supposed to remember everything from the past seven year plus everything they’re going to teach us this year for the N.E.W.T.s,” he cried out in despair.

“Don’t worry, you’ll pass them all with Outstanding’s…. Well at least Exceeds Expectations,” Keira attempted to reassure, and maybe also tease a little.

“But I need O’s to become a Curse-Breaker,” Bill exclaimed. She had never seen the Gryffindor so stressed out before and it was honestly scary.

“How about we take a break –“ she began to suggest calmly which unfortunately caused Bill to erupt in another frantic, stressful shriek.

“There’s no time for breaks!” Keira stared at him with wide, fearful eyes.

“Okay… then, how about you keep studying and I’ll go get us some study snacks and make us some tea or cocoa…. Or maybe something stronger,” she muttered as she carefully stood up and took a couple steps away from the hysterical, anxious mess that was formerly William Weasley. How could she forget study snacks, they were an essential part to the studying process!

Bill continued to pour over his many textbooks and parchment piles of notes, mumbling incoherently, probably reading out loud to himself in an attempt to help him better remember. Seeing him like this was really causing Keira to consider leaving after Sixth year so she wouldn’t have to suffer through this same, sad fate.

As she contemplated her future the arrival of another redhead caught her attention. “Charlie!” Eagerly calling out his name like that was a little embarrassing but she managed to brush it off as she reached into her bag and pulled out a small box tied up with a ribbon before hurrying over to him.

Charlie paused when he heard his name called upon entering the Gryffindor Common Room after Quidditch practice. He had planned on going straight upstairs to take a shower but someone sounded like they needed to speak with him right away. He was quite surprised to see the Slytherin bounding toward him. No matter how many times he saw her in their Common Room he was always surprised. How did she always manage to get in there? Not that he was complaining!

“Hey,” he greeted with his classic, infectious smile, running a hand through his hair possibly trying to tame it from its sweaty mess thanks to his Quidditch practice. Oh great, he probably smelled awful…

It had been a little over a week since he found her crying on top of the Astronomy Tower and since then things had felt a little awkward between them considering he found her sobbing on top of the Astronomy Tower. Keira wasn’t one to normally show her emotions or be so vulnerable in front of anyone, so he was sure she felt a little embarrassed about that and he didn’t want to make her feel judged in any way or like their relationship had changed; although, clearly it had changed, but not in a negative way! He didn’t want to make her feel awkward in any sort of way so he had been keeping a slight distance between them, thinking she may want some space from him after sharing such a vulnerable moment with him. They hadn’t really spoken or spent time alone since then.

Although when they had their next Defense Against the Dark Arts class he did try to give her a little pep talk, accompanied with a brief pumping up shoulder massage like one gave boxers, before they entered the classroom with Barnaby and the rest of their friends who shared that class with them, and continued to give her reassuring looks throughout the class.

Also, as promised, he drew her her own personal weredragon picture which he slid over to her the other day while their gang was having another study session in the library. Keira looked thrilled to receive it and he was pretty positive she wanted to give him a hug. She did slide it back over to him to have him sign it, although he still didn’t understand why she would want that, before she took it and hung it up by her bed in her Dorm. He was a little nervous when he gave her that picture, it could bring back memories of that night which weren’t exactly the happiest, but then, yesterday when she passed him a note in Charms asking what would an Antipodean Opaleye and a Hebridean Black crossbreed look like he felt reassured that things were well between them.

Despite those moments, they still had not spent any time one-on-one, their friends always around them when they interacted the past week and a half. Until now, it seemed.

“Hey,” Keira greeted with a grin as she stopped in front of him. “Have a nice practice?”

“Yeah, it was… tiring,” Charlie admitted, sounding a bit out of breath actually. “What are you doing in here,” he asked curiously before he was unable to resist teasing her, a charming smirk playing on his lips. “Wait, don’t tell me you were waiting for me? Miss me?”

Keira rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smirking slightly herself. “No. I’m here helping your brother study for his N.E.W.T.s – Ancient Runes,” she informed him, motioning to his disaster of an older brother behind her.

“My mind’s been Obliviated,” Bill groaned.

Charlie glanced over her shoulder before wincing slightly. “I’ve never seen him so stressed before.”

“Yeah, me neither. But once he gets through his exams and finds out he passed them all and is able to become a Curse-Breaker he’ll be back to his chill, cool self,” Keira reassured before handing him the small wrapped box excitedly. “Here.”

Charlie looked down at the apparent gift for him. “What? What’s this,” he asked curiously as he hesitantly took the box from her.

“It’s a thank you slash early birthday present,” Keira told him, unable to keep herself from grinning.

Charlie studied the box a moment before frowning slightly. “You don’t have to get me anything.” Of all the Weasley’s she had encountered, Charlie was the worst one at accepting gifts. She was well aware, as were most people, they were not the wealthiest family but she wasn’t trying to give them any sort of handouts out of pity. She didn’t think a birthday or Christmas gift was out of line, or a thank you for being there for me when I needed you gift.

“But I wanted to,” Keira informed him matter-of-factly, so don’t argue with her! “Besides, everyone should get something for their birthday.”

“But it’s not my birthday yet –“

“I said it was an early birthday present,” Keira corrected him. “Slash, thank you gift. Just open it,” she urged excitedly.

Charlie huffed slightly, not nearly as excited as she was, before untying the ribbon around the box. “Alright, alright.” His grumbling came to a halt when his eyes saw what lay in the box.

His gift was a small bronze statuette of a dragon. Although it had no real discernible features if he had to wager a guess it was probably a Hebridean Black since it had four legs and wings, instead of its wings making up its front claws as well, and had an arrow-shaped spike at the end of its tail. Whether she bought this because it resembled her favorite dragon or for some other reason, like it being the only kind they had, he had no idea, but since it resembled her favorite dragon on top of her gifting it to him he would definitely always think of her when he looked at it.

He stammered slightly as he took the tiny dragon figurine out of its box for a closer look, trying to find the words to thank her but he was also mesmerized by this unexpected present. Keira looked a bit smug, but mainly overjoyed, as she watched Charlie’s eyes lit up.

“But wait, there’s more,” Keira announced excitedly, causing Charlie to look at her quizzically before glaring at her slightly as she took the statuette out of his hand. Hey, that was his! She walked over to one of the tables in the Gryffindor Common Room and set his dragon figurine on it, Charlie close behind – she took his dragon!

“What? Does it do something,” Charlie asked curiously as he studied it closely. “Ooo, does it breathe fire,” he asked excitedly. Finally he was getting enthusiastic over receiving a present!

“Not yet,” Keira replied with a smirk as she took out her wand. “As you may or may not know, Professor McGonagall has been giving me some private lessons in Transfigurations.” She cleared her throat before pointing her wand at the dragon statuette. “Draconifors.” With a slash of her wand a fiery red light emerged and illuminated his figurine. When it dissipated his dragon had appeared to come to life!

Charlie’s eyes widened the size of bludgers before he let out some inhuman noise of pure elation. “It’s a dragon!” Keira laughed slightly as his overjoyed reaction, moving her wand slightly to cause his now living dragon figurine to walk along the table. Charlie crouched down to be eye level with his little dragon, watching it in fascination. He was like a kid in Honeydukes. Keira smirked more before, with a flick of her wrist, the dragon leapt onto Charlie’s head. He let out another excited squeal, for lack of a better word, as he slowly stood up, his eyes rolling as far as they could, attempting to look at the dragon on top of his head.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he informed her as he carefully reached up to grab the dragon from his head and gently held it in his hand.

“I’m very happy to hear that. But it’s not a real dragon, unfortunately. I mean, it kind of is, but not really,” Keira tried to explain. “I asked Professor McGonagall to teach me the Draconifors Spell after reading about it in one of the additional readings she suggested to me. It’s supposed to be able to transform small objects into dragons that you can control. They’re obviously a lot smaller and less powerful than a real dragon but they’re still really cool. And cute.”

Charlie stroked the tiny dragon in his palm with one finger from his free hand. “It is cute,” he agreed, sounding like he was only half listening. Keira wasn’t going to take offense to him ignoring her at the moment.

“You know, if you’re good I’ll teach you the spell and you can turn this little guy, or any small object, into a dragon whenever you want,” Keira offered.

That seemed to grab Charlie’s attention as his head snapped up to look at her. “Yeah? Really?”

“Well, if you’re good and don’t piss me off,” Keira reiterated.

“I drew you a personalized, signed, picture,” Charlie argued.

“So? Barnaby draws me a magical creature picture every day,” Keira informed him. So he would have to do better!

“How about, if Gryffindor beats Slytherin in the next Quidditch match you have to teach me,” Charlie wagered causing Keira to scoff.

“I am not going to be able to handle you crying after you lose,” Keira retorted.

“I would not cry! …. Need I remind you I helped you get through the Forbidden Forest to find the Cursed-Vault in there,” Charlie replied with a smirk.

“Need I remind you how I helped you gather up enough money to get a dragon egg from some shady dealer which turned out to be an Acromantula egg,” Keira debated, placing her hands on her hips. She was pretty sure she won that round.

Charlie and Keira glared playfully at each other before something out of the corner of the Seeker’s eye caught his attention. “Uh, Ady, I think your study buddy is having a nervous breakdown.”

Keira frowned quizzically before turning around to see Bill agitatedly running his fingers through his hair and pulling at it. Oh, Merlin, he was literally about to pull his hair out.

“William, no! Your hair is your best feature. You’ll never be able to get a date without it,” Keira cried as she hurried over to eldest Weasley and grabbed onto his wrists. Charlie chuckled slightly as he watched them before turning his attention back to his new little dragon. Hmm, what should he name it…

“Charles!” Charlie’s head snapped up when he heard his name, and not his friendlier nickname, called. “Help me with your brother,” Keira demanded as she tried to wrestle Bill’s hands away from his head.

Charlie glanced down at the tiny dragon in his hand. “Come on little guy, let’s go show you to Bill. That should take his mind off his exams.”

~*~*~*~

“Ooo chocolate cake,” Keira gasped excitedly as she grabbed a slice of the leftover dessert from dinner. It was another late night hang out in the kitchens of Hogwarts for the Cursed-Vaults Gang…Crew… they had yet to decide on a name.

“Could you grab me some too, please,” Penny asked politely as she gathered drinks for everyone.

Keira cut another slice of cake for the Hufflepuff and set it on a plate before licking off some remnants of chocolate icing off her fingers. “So…” Keira glanced over as she was joined by the Gryffindor Seeker who swooped in and leaned casually back against the stone wall next to her. “Looks like things are good now between you and Penny.”

“Were we fighting,” Keira asked curiously.

“Well, not exactly, but you can’t deny there was some tension between you two for a while there. I mean, she did cause you to storm out of the library that one time,” Charlie reminded her.

Keira glanced back at the blonde Hufflepuff as she handed out everyone’s drinks to them. “Yeah, well, we’re good now,” she told him with a small smile. “Actually… there was sort of a… crucial situation that kind of made us address the issue. And I think it was really good, for both of us. She got to face and work through some things and I got her to teach me how to brew that potion I needed so I’d call it a win-win,” she confided in him.

“Yeah? That’s great,” Charlie exclaimed with a grin. “See, I told you we’d figure it out.”

Keira frowned slightly and paused. “Wait, what did you do, exactly?”

“I provided emotional support?” Keira fought back a smile as she looked up at the cheesy grin of the Gryffindor.

“That may be true but that didn’t necessarily help resolve the issue,” Keira pointed out.

“The point is it’s figured out so all is well. See, no point in all that blubbering,” Charlie teased earning himself a playful – well, partially playful, partially anger fueled – smack from the Slytherin. “Ow!” Charlie rubbed his chest where she hit him, trying to appear emotionally hurt but he couldn’t keep from smiling. He was glad they were at the point where they could talk and joke about it now and it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable anymore.

“Oh, you’re fine. You get hit by bludgers all the time,” Keira retorted as she picked up the two plates of chocolate cake.

“I think you stopped my heart for a second there,” Charlie teased causing Keira to roll her eyes as she smirked to herself.

“Maybe that’ll teach you to be nicer to me,” Keira replied a bit smugly as she turned to bring Penny her piece of cake.

“Maybe…” Charlie started before a smirk spread across his face and he quickly snatched a plate of chocolate cake out of her hand – this was not the Golden Snitch! “Or maybe I like a challenge,” he cried in typical Gryffindor fashion, before hurrying away from her and to the safety of their friend group.

“Charles!”

~*~*~*~

Connerie – Bullshit

Putain de merde – Fucking shit

Needed Information on my MC: Nereida Keira-Adelyn Black, goes by her middle names, Charlie likes to call her Ady; born in Ireland, grew up in Canada; part undine; 

Remus Lupin is legal guardian/godfather, although not feeling he was the best fit to take care of Jacob and Keira (financially or for health reasons) after their mother passed they were raised by close friends of their mom in Canada. When they decided to attend Hogwarts instead of staying in Canada for school to connect with their Irish and English heritage, Remus, being the only person they knew, and really family they had, when they arrived in the UK for school, did his best to watch over them and take care of them since he couldn’t leave them to fend for themselves in a new country all alone. Fortunately, they were very independent and when he took the necessary precautions during the full moon he didn’t have to worry so much about them managing on their own. He didn’t feel comfortable staying at their home without them their so he really only lived with them (and had a good place to live/stay) during holidays and the summers, assuming the moon phase allowed. He also, of course, refused to accept any money or gifts from them although Keira demanded he should get a birthday and Christmas present at least and promised not to be too extravagant (but it’s not fair he has to live in poverty, he can stay at their home! He’s family!)

He and Keira clearly got very close since Jacob went missing and he proved to be probably the best at helping them with their watermarks and other undine characteristics. He tried to keep the fact that he was a werewolf from them as long as possible, not wanting to scare them or cause them any worry especially when they were so young but it wasn’t too difficult for them to figure out (he always left around the full moon every month and his nickname was Moony – come on! Keeping with tradition =p Keira found out Remus was a werewolf during her Third Year) and it ended up being a sort of bonding moment considering they were not completely human either and he knew what undergoing a painful transformation was like. (Being around Keira and Jacob who reminded him so much of Sirius and James also may have helped Remus feel less alone.) Keira is fiercely protective over Remus. They also like to send each other packages of chocolate every month – Remus may not be able to afford much be he somehow always manages to find enough money to send her a little bit of chocolate.

(One of these days I will make a post for my MC’s bio… Hope I explained her relationship to Remus well enough. I really need to make some posts just about my MC, even if no one cares and it’s just for me. Also I don’t care if people hate me trying to have my character connected to the Marauders, we all love Remus and he deserves love and happiness! Like we all don’t want to be connected to them anyway…)

A/N: I’ve been having a lot of Remus Lupin feelings lately. I’ve even started making a Remus Lupin, and a Remus x Tonks playlist… Idk… I have had some other ideas about Remus I might write although they, one in particular, would go against canon but… does that really matter? =p But there is definitely one involving Remus I really want to write so it’s going to happen, probably next! It’s almost like a werewolf trilogy thing I’m starting to create! <.< 

Hello, I’m incapable of writing a short fic. =p Can’t even write a brief authors note… I have a lot of thoughts!

I know we all, particularly me, enjoy pointing out how great an older brother Bill is but Charlie is also an amazing older brother – reassuring, nonjudgmental, willing to smuggle a dragon out of Hogwarts for you, no questions asked. The Weasley’s have such great, chill, older brothers – Love this family! I also believe the Weasley family is a more affectionate family, physically and verbally; growing up with so many people, and in tighter living quarters, you also had to get used to touching someone else while just trying to eat at the table =p

Also, in case there are any questions or those who believe I’m contributing to the erasure of Charlie’s sexuality, I assure you that is not true. Being on the ace-spectrum myself (as is my MC) I am doing my best to convey him on the ace-spectrum as well. Also, just because someone is ace/aro doesn’t mean they are unable to care about others and forge meaningful relationships.

What’s the deal with me and the Astronomy Tower/Class – no idea =p I also believe the reason Professor McGonagall has not taught us the Draconifors spell is because she knows Charlie will use it all the time on everything!

Was the first Chaser who wanted more… aggressive tactics Marcus Flint? Perhaps… Did I go through the House Point leaderboard on the game and make a Slytherin Quidditch team? …Yes =p (If you’re interested let me know and I’ll post it. And if you want your MC on the team can do [I’m Captain of this ship!] – unless you want to be a Beater in which case have to be reserve, sorry, Barnaby and my MC are Beater Buddies!)

So here’s the deal – I began writing this before the Werewolf event in the game happened and I was already starting on the ending scene when the event came out so please excuse any discrepancies. I did add in a couple references to it and although clearly it would be out of order since the Werewolf event clearly happened around Halloween and this I had set late November (okay, full disclosure, I looked up the moon phases for that year and November 23 would be a full moon which I thought was perfect since I wanted it to be cold and it was close to Charlie’s birthday) BUT in my defense I started writing this first before the event came out so therefore it happens first! =p And then… idk, Time Warp =p Maybe Fenrir attacked around the Christmas feast instead of the Halloween one? The event did help me figure out how MC got Penny to teach her how to brew Wolfsbane potion which also provides a two-part epilogue! This could also work with Chiara I think too assuming Penny hadn’t met her yet so you can imagine that if it works out better for you but this was for Remus!

You’re all welcome I resisted adding a “Not Today Satan, Not Today” gif in this because the urge was real! …I still might

Other Hogwarts Mystery Fics:

Under the Stars - Fluff at the End of the Year Ball with Charlie

I know it’s not very fluffy or a follow up to Under the Stars so if you want to remove your tag or need me to do it let me know;I hope that was all I was supposed to tag! If you want to be added to the tag list let me know =) Or if you just want to discuss HPHM things or ideas hmu! 

@sungoddessra @sly-vixen-up2nogood @bexeris @tatlikar @cinnamoncam 

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT Rewatch 4X14 - Enter the Dragon

Sorry for all the delays with these reviews! I’ve really been DRAGON my feet through this whole season, haven’t I? 

...You don’t come here for smart puns, Regina! XD

Anyway, there’s a nice juicy review under the cut!

Main Takeaways

Past

I love how this plays as the evil version of every “young person melts the heart of older person and convinces them to go back to doing what they love” story! While it’s not a parody -- and is in fact played deadly straight -- it’s funny as hell to watch because of that!

It’s kind of weird seeing such vague mentions of Mal’s backstory. All throughout the episode, we hear clues, but are never given anything concrete. I wonder when or even if we ever would’ve gotten a backstory for Mal and Briar Rose.

Present

Wow, I gotta say, considering how DESTROYED Mal was by what Snowing did to her kid, stealing another kid is just horrible (The fact that he’s turned back into August and she may or may not have known that is irrelevant for me since she stealing a son from his father at the end of the day) ! I don’t know if it’s exactly poorly written or not -- a case of extremism turning her into what she hates or mishandling a character who is supposed to be more balanced between being evil and sympathetic. I guess it’s up to interpretation, but given that the there doesn’t get to be a reaction from Marco to Maleficent over the fact considering how big of a deal it is that she reverted a little boy back into being a grown man, I feel forced to say the latter.

This also applies to Regina too, ESPECIALLY considering her conversations with Marco in the last episode and this is more of a problem than I realized. She’s stealing a child, putting him up against three villains, AND disposing any direct means of contact between herself and her backup. And the fact that Rumple reverts him into being August at the end of the episode changes nothing here because that wasn’t an anticipated move. It’s even more distracting given the gravitas of the moment where Emma and Regina try to figure out whether or not to steal him in the first place. Regina says she’s going to protect him and pull out if he’s in danger, but what does she think they’re going to do to him if not threaten his life? Even just the emotional duress of those kind of threats is crazy to do to a kid. And then to drop her phone so he can’t even be tracked? It’s played as this necessary evil, but is never given the payoff to back up what a horrible and reckless thing this was to do. They STOLE his childhood -- what was essentially his happy ending -- and that has to be answered for by ALL involved parties: Maleficent, Regina, and Emma too for ultimately agreeing to this.

This segment has a really interesting theme of not being overly insistent on complete control. Throughout it, Regina insists to her friends that she can handle the Queens of Darkness. Even as the stakes raise, she makes risky and riskier decisions that she says she can manage. This culminates in a horribly risky decision (See above) that, in her insistence in keeping control over the situation and her sureness that she’s right, has Regina abandon her means of getting backup. And this all ends with Regina, forced by her own hand, to relinquish control to Rumple. I think that this is an important lesson for Regina to learn, and while I didn’t like the big decision that she had to make for lack of a proper fallout (I’ll actually discuss in a bit why I choose this episode to take the issue with it), I think the rest of the story is good!

Stream of Consciousness

-Regina, you trying to KILL ME with the cut of that shirt?! Because it is working!

-Damn, Regina is AMAZING at acting evil! XD

-HOW THE FUCK DID YOU CRUSH GLASS?! ARE YOU THE FUCKING HULK? XD

-I love how Regina looks between Mal’s castle and her book like “I’m gonna get my favorite author to sign my book!”

-Wouldn’t someone just win “Don’t Be a Hero” by only saving themselves?

-I love how there were freakin’ BETS on the game! XD

-We got another Henry and Belle scene!!! Tbh, I wish there was a bit more substance here too. Belle ADORES books and this is literally a mystery surrounding a book! Why couldn’t she give him some advice on maybe where to look or just talk about the nature of books! You have two book fans sharing a scene! Why not use that?

-I would KILL to know how Regina’s night of drinking with the Queens of Darkness went! Like, they drank a whole bar! XD

-To be fair, Emma, Regina’s probably not reaching out because she’s hungover as FUCK after DRINKING A WHOLE BAR! XD

-MAL, DRUNK AS FUCK, SINGED A COP CAR! XD WHERE ARE FICS OF THIS! THIS IS THE TRUE SEQUEL TO “THE HANGOVER!” XD

-”Some drinking.” SOME DRINKING? YOU DRANK AND ENTIRE BAR! XD

-I like how Regina’s “pathetic” flame was more of a matter of nervousness than inexperience. It shows that Regina’s learned a lot during her tenure with Rumple while still having a lot of space to grow.

-Maleficent is introduced as a druggie! She literally stabs herself with something that “takes the edge off!” XD

-”You need to remember who you are.” “That Maleficent had a foul temper, and if you insulted her, she’d turn into a dragon and eat your flesh.” Holy hell! My eyes are filled with hearts!

-”Where the hell have you been all night?” I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW THAT AS WELL!

-NOW WHAT KIND OF CRAZINESS HAPPENED IN THE VAULT?! XD

-To be fair, Emma, Regina’s been ROCKING this undercover mission so far.

-This episode is full of sexy, badass people, but this cake is the sexiest thing of all!

-”Well, look at which two survivors found a dinghy together.” ...Rumple, HOW ARE YOU SO BAD AT BEING KILLIAN? IT’S NOT ESPECIALLY HARD AND YET YOU SOMEHOW FAILED AT IT! It’s like trying to pet a puppy and instead doing a handstand! XD

-I love how Storybrooke can appear on a GPS system! Is someone in town just a really good techie or is Google our new God? XD

-”The only magical thing you’ll find here is duct tape.” Accurate! XD

-”You didn’t ask your questions more forcefully.” Oh trust me, she did. It was scary.

-”One little snafu?” YOU WOULD HAVE TO STEAL A CHILD!

-”Break some rules.” YOU ARE STEALING A CHILD!

-A Pirate’s Oath! XD What the hell? Someone’s just looking to cop a feel!

-I love the fact that it is 100% canon that Regina rode on the back of a dragon. Maleficent gave her the best piggyback ride in the UNIVERSE!

-Wait: GOLD HAS A CABIN?

Favorite Dynamic

Rump-illian and Belle. I absolutely love Rump-illian and Belle’s subplot here. Rumple, for better or worse, knows Belle and is exactly slippery enough to forge a story to get the dagger back for himself but also not infallible as to still fail to  discuss things he wasn’t privy to. Major props have to go to Colin. He’s playing Rumple playing Killian and that is AMAZING! His lines and delivery are just awkward enough to capture Rumple’s failure to perfectly capture Killian, but they’re close enough that they could fool someone who’s just getting to be close with Killian like Belle. He’s always a little off center in how he conducts himself, making the reveal something that could feasibly be guessed but also surprise everyone! And the transitions -- the one at the docks the one as he walks into the pawnshop, and the one outside the pawnshop are done so well as to make the whole subplot even better!

Writer

David Goodman and Jerome Schwartz are in charge of today’s episode! So far, they’ve had a perfect season! But...well… Look. This episode isn't bad, but I do wish the present segment had some more polish. Considering that the three people involved in that final decision are all mothers and to not do more with that idea is really distracting in hindsight.

Rating

8/10. I’m torn about whether or not I should punish this episode for what goes down with Pinocchio. This episode is more setup in that regard than payoff and it’s not bad setup. But at the same time, I do have to ask myself if that payoff was ever going to happen and if it wasn’t, then the setup of something that upon inspection is so fucked up. And I do think that the payoff wasn’t intended to come up -- they had to know -- and so I do find fault with this episode for executing this idea in such an irresponsible way. Otherwise though, the storytelling is really good. Everything makes sense, the story’s engaging, the pacing works, the characters are for the most part in line, and the theme of the past segment lines up in a way that’s subtle, yet effective.

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

DRAGON QUEEN - This is my JAM! Look at Regina’s face as Mal enters the room. That is the face of a woman realizing “I am gay for LIFE!” And in the present, could these two flirt any MORE?! <3 Just look at the aspirin scene! Mal and Regina are both letting their guard down (Regina’s being more of a casual spitfire, Mal’s not wearing the jacket and is giving a bit more info), Mal’s helping Regina out a bit, there’s candles everywhere, and there’s a touch of loose tension in the room. It’s enough to make the moment pretty sexy. ALSO, they go on a mission alone and the presentation to it plays out exactly like an impromptu date! This is the BEST! I just love how Regina smiles for Mal. It’s big, but natural and just kind of happy!

Swan Queen - Dude! Emma is so worried about Regina! That panic in her voice is CRAZY and her dedication to having Regina’s back and protecting her really shows how much she cares for Regina! This as some of their best shippy moments by the sheer amount of concern Emma has for her!

Captain Swan - While it doesn’t work exactly, Killian does a really good job assuring Emma that things with Regina will be okay.

Mal/Briar Rose - “What happened to you?” “A Rose. A Briar Rose.” Mal says that line in the same way someone talks about someone who they had a bad breakup with!

-----

Hi!!! Thanks for reading and shout outs to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales and to the lovely @daensarah! See you all next time!

Season 4 Total (121/230)

Writer Scores: Adam and Eddy: (34/60) Jane Espenson: (20/40) David Goodman and Jerome Schwartz: (38/50) Andrew Chambliss: (22/50) Dana Horgan: (6/30) Kalinda Vazquez: (22/40) Scott Nimerfro: (14/30) Tze Chun (8/20)

Operation Rewatch Archives

[hnrywinchester]

Fare Thee Well- - Chapter 2

Summary: She hasn’t seen Gabriel since he died nine years ago, then a phone call changes everything.

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

Series Warnings: Angst, Smut, Swearing, PTSD Gabriel, Character Deaths, Follows Canon 13x18 and on

Beta’d by: @aquietuniverse

Words: 4.8k

Chapter 1

Masterlist

“Sam!” Liv yelled, her eyes staying locked on the golden amber eyes beside her.

Whatever deep, dark vault of her psyche she’d locked Gabriel away in over the years burst open. It coursed through her, spreading like wildfire as it burned through the walls and barricades blocking him away. Every emotion he’d ever awakened in her rekindled, each piece of her he’d broken dragging back into place. A small, angry part of her wanted to reject how easily her heart was welcoming him again. He’d broken it far beyond repair and here it was offering itself to him again as if it wasn’t being held together by string, bits crumbling at the slightest memory of him.

“Gabriel.” She sputtered again, craving that voice she’d all but forgotten.

“How do I know it’s really you?” He asked meekly, water welling in his lower lids.

He knew it was her. It had to be. She looked different. Harder. Colder. Tiny lines has formed around her eyes and he noticed a few gray hairs around her temples. She’d be 35 now if he’d kept track of time properly.

Asmodeus had never been able to capture her quite right. He may have had the power, but he didn’t have the skill. It’s all in the nuances. Like when her lips twitched to the side when she was holding back tears, or how her eyes flicked down whenever she was embarrassed (and everything embarrassed her). But his favorite was the way she relaxed when she actually truly felt safe. The woman never relaxed. She was constantly on edge, ready to whirl and shove the nearest thing she could find through someone, or something’s, chest. He’d been on the receiving end a few times, she had a skill. But those snippets of peace where she let that guard down, when her shoulders dropped from their contracted position by her neck and her face softened, that was something Asmodeus could never replicate.

“Are you from Tennessee?” She whispered, lips tugging into a smirk, “cause you’re the only ten I see.”

His eyes snapped shut and he felt his tension and fears slowly begin to melt away. Maybe he actually was home. Maybe this was finally over…

“Hey! What’s up?” Sam interrupted, running into the room, his eyes snapping over to the now responsive angel.

“Go get his grace,” Liv ordered, not even turning her attention to the towering figure in the doorway, “we’re gonna help you, ok?”

He noticed the restraint in her voice, how she tiptoed with her tone, careful to not give too much of herself away.

Sam returned moments later with Castiel and Gabriel could hear his grace pulsing as soon as it entered the room. With cautious eyes, Liv watched as Sam held the glass vial up to him, the glimmering blue fog drifting back to its rightful home.

“Is it helping?” Castiel inquired, a tinge of hope evident in his voice.

“I... I don’t know.” Gabriel answered, his eyes averting to Liv, searching for reassurance.

“Sam, where’s the bathroom? And some rags. So we can... try and clean him up a bit.” Liv inquired, her voice cracking.

“Down the hall to the right is a washroom, there should be some towels in there.” Sam responded as Gabriel’s eyes shot over to him.

Panic tightened over the angels chest as she exited the room. The calm that had washed over him was dissipating as he was left with Sam and Castiel. This was unfamiliar, it wasn’t home, it wasn’t safe here. He had to get out, he had to run. His grace was flowing through him, attempting and failing to fill all the broken cracks and holes within him. It wasn’t enough. He was shattered. Nothing short of a miracle was going to repair him now, and miracles walked out when dad did.

“Hello?” Sam blurted out, answering his phone, pulling Gabriel from his thoughts.

“Samuel.” A thick southern accent drawled.

Gabriel’s heart stopped. He could feel the blood draining from his face as his body went cold and rigid. His eyes shot to Sam, returned to their petrified state from before. He knew it, he wasn’t safe. He never would be ever again. And now she was involved.

“I hope you're having a pleasant day. It's come to my attention you boys have something that belongs to me, and I'd like it back.” Asmodeus continued, and Gabriel could feel the demon’s needle piercing his neck, over and over and over.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam responded, voice hard.

“Oh, I believe you do. And I'm-a give you one chance to return him to me. No harm, no foul.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Do not hang up on me. Gabriel is of no use to you in his current condition. Should you choose to resist me, I will have no choice but to take him by force. I will reduce you and that sad little bunker of yours to ashes. You got 10 minutes to decide. Now you can hang up.”

The silence weighed down on everyone in the room. Gabriel’s breath came out in shaky, barely audible whimpers. He was going back. He was going back to hell.

Liv’s hands shook as she pulled three clean towels from the industrial shelf in the massive room. Multiple shower stalls lined the walls, washing in a whole new group of old memories. Gentle fingertips raking against her scalp, wandering hands exploring every inch of her, she could practically feel him behind her, his nose gently grazing against her neck as lips swept across her damp skin, his breath hitting her, soft and warm , as he whispered his devotion. Why didn’t she look for him all these years? He loved her. Why did she leave him to-

Quickly, she snapped herself from her dreamland to find her hand gripped tightly around the metal of the towel rack, knuckles white and jagged, bitten fingernails digging into the palm of her hand. ‘Fuck’ she cursed in her head, all bets were off. Nine years of repression were finally surging forward, quickly churning to guilt in her gut, forcing her to keel over the sink and heave the bile from her empty stomach into the white basin.

She had to fix this. She had to make it right.

“Liv, we have a problem.” Sam’s voice was firm and afraid as he stopped in the doorway, eyes wide with fear as she looked at his reflection in the mirror.

She whipped around quickly, “What?”

“Asmodeus is coming.”

When Sam said those words she felt no fear. She knew she should have, but it almost felt like relief. Murderous thoughts flashed behind her eyes. She knew what she wanted to do, what she had to do.

“I need that knife,” she seethed, glaring through her brows. Sam nodded as she went to meet him, ready for a fight.

Gabriel sat on the bed, knees clutched tightly to his body, rocking back and forth. Everything hurt. His feet were freezing, cold was not something he’d ever had to experience. The empty room was too reminiscent of where he knew he’d soon be returning to. This was by far the cruelest trick that Asmodeus had played on him. Twenty four hours of freedom, letting any form of hope return to him, seeing her, the real her. He wanted to break down and sob, he wanted to run, he wanted to kiss her one last time, but above all, he wanted to die. There was no way he could survive any more of this, but he had no choice. Only one thing could kill him, and there was no one left capable of ending his existence. He was forever destined to live in this nightmare. He supposed he deserved it. Abandoning heaven, his brothers, killing all those people through the years. Then there was the sex, and the drugs, alcohol and gambling, he’d lived a life of debauchery and it was finally catching up to him. He’d lived his life for pleasure and he’d now patiently beg for death for the rest of his days.

When Liv ran into the room, she noticed his return to his catatonic state as Castiel stood helplessly beside him. Fury was running through her veins as she patiently waited on the Prince of Hell who was slated to arrive at any second. He wasn’t taking him. Not without killing her first.

“Hey,” she cooed, softening herself as she kneeled in front of the bed and placed a hand on his. “You aren’t going anywhere, understand? You aren’t going back there.”

Were her promises empty? Probably, she thought. Was she walking into her own death? Maybe, but if she died for him, well that was the only way she wanted to go out anyway, the only way that seemed worth a damn.

His hands shot to his head, he couldn’t listen to this, this wasn’t happening. She was going to die. Not only was he going back to hell, but he was going to have to watch Asmodeus kill her over and over again…

“All right, we did what we could to help the bunker’s warding, but who knows if it’s enough. How’s he?” Sam asked, running back into the room.

“I don’t know.” Castiel responded, watching the pair with a soft expression.

“He can’t go back, Sam,” Liv muttered, releasing Gabriel’s hand and standing tall next to the hunter.

Suddenly, the room went dark. The red emergency lights were the only thing left illuminating the building, casting an eerie and violent glow.

“He’s not going back,” Sam assured firmly, handing over Ruby’s knife to her and holding his angel blade in his other hand.

The trio ran out into the hall, Liv passing Gabriel a sad glance as she paused in the doorway. This was it,this was the turning point. They would either win, or lose everything. Liv led the way, keeping her boots silent on the floors of the bunker, knife held ready in front of her. Everything was silent, too silent.

When they reached the map room, their attention was grabbed by the warding sigils illuminated on the walls.

“They’re here,” Liv whispered, all of her muscles tensing into position, ready to attack.

Right on cue, four demons attacked. Two went to Sam, one to Castiel, and the last to Liv.

“Oh, the boss is gonna be real happy see you,” the demon sneered, as he stopped in front of her with a sinister smiling baring his teeth.

“I get that a lot,” She replied smugly. “Not too happy when I leave though I’ve found, think it’s because of my sour disposition? Or is it more, because I just leave them dead?”

She shrugged sarcastically, pouting her lips. The demon snarled and lunged, quickly greeted by a knee in the stomach.

“You know, people underestimate me,” she continued as the toe of her boot collided with his jaw, “they don’t realize that the will to live goes hand in hand with a healthy fear of death, both of which I lack. It’s really freeing, you know?”

Blood sprayed from the demons mouth as he spit a tooth out, Liv looking on with a satisfied grin. “Angel whore,” he growled angrily.

“Name calling? Really? I mean, really? I just kicked your face in and you want to use words. Can you at least make this remotely entertaining?”

The demon lunged, wrapping an arm around her middle, tackling her to the floor, and pushing them back into the hallway. Her head bounced off the hard cement floor, stunning her momentarily. White dots flashed through her vision as the burning from the back of her head wrapped around the rest of her skull like a vice. This was more like it. She wrestled to regain control, twisting and writhing, sneaking her leg through the demon straddling her as she dodged his pummeling fists. Sometimes it paid to be small. Her leg finally slipped through and she quickly threw it up and around the demon’s neck, using the weight of her entire lower body to throw him onto the floor, plunging the knife into his chest as he landed.

“See, I told you,” she panted as his true face flashed behind his vessel’s, “I leave ‘em dead.”

Her eyes darted into the map room, searching for the two men that had gone in with her.he spotted them off to the side, both also victorious against their assailants and then suddenly thrown against the wall like rag dolls by an invisible force.

“You warding wasn’t designed for the likes of me, Samuel. I’ve come to claim what’s mine.” She heard a thick Southern accent taunt as she pushed herself against the wall, trying her hardest to camouflage herself.

A man came into view, dressed in an all-white suit. Asmodeus. Cautiously, her eyes shot to the small trembling figure being dragged into view by two towering men. Gabriel. His eyes were wide as they caught sight of his captor, his body trying to force itself back into a huddled ball against the arms pulling him along up the stairs. Her heart began to pound as her face grew hot. It took every ounce of self control to not run and attack, but she had one shot and it needed to be perfectly calculated.

“Oh I missed you boy, Im’a have to punish you rather severely I’m afraid. Although, I think this little field trip may have served as a better torment than even I coulda thought up.” Asmodeus heckled, smiling with one side of his bearded face, “I know she’s around here somewhere. And as for you two..”

With a wave of his hand Sam and Castiel immediately screamed, writhing in pain. It was now or never. Rage burned through her chest as she ran towards the distracted prince in the center of the room. It was too easy, the knife slid into his kidney, the red seeping through his white jacket as he keeled over with a scream.

“No!” Gabriel screamed, his body still paralyzed with fear, earning a smile from the rising monarch on the floor below.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Olivia. I know a lot about you my dear,” Asmodeus purred, turning to face her. “You should know better than thinkin’ that old rusted little dagger can kill the likes of me. I got too much of your angel runnin’ through me now.”

“Fuck you,” She spat, fear coursing through her as the realization of her failure dawned on her.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, where are your manners little girl? You’re talkin’ to a king you know!”

“I am going to rip you limb from limb and scatter you across the fucking universe.”

If she was going out, she was going out swinging. She couldn’t bear to look up at Gabriel, the fear and undoubted disappointment and guilt that would be etched into his already blood stricken face, no. If she was dying, she was remembering him from better times. She’d remember those golden eyes so alight with life they gave the stars a run for their money, his mischievous little chuckle and the way he’d always give her hand an extra squeeze before saying goodbye. He’d loved her, that was all she’d ever needed.

“Oh my oh my, you are just as feisty as he makes you out to be. I like that. I must say, I think some of the angel’s… fondness of you must be all wrapped up in his grace.” He began advancing towards her, slowly, menacingly, “I think I got a little of bit of it in me now too.”

She froze. Ice rain through her veins as the demons cold, hard eyes fell predatorily onto her, like he owned her. Her gaze was locked as he stalked towards her, head cocked to the side, smiling.

“What should we do with you?” He inquired, running his hands up and down her arms, “Maybe, I’ll keep you as my own little pet, make him watch as I take you as my own, hmm? While you beg and plead for the comfort of your precious little halo. Wouldn’t that be fun, boy? To look into these eyes you love so much as she prays for death!”

Asmodeus grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her to face the three men on the landing of the metal stairwell. Gabriel felt a surge of power wash through him as she finally turned her eyes up to look at him. She was petrified, she looked almost childlike. Tears were streaming down her face as the tendons in her neck strained against the tension from the hold on her head. This wouldn’t be his fate. It wouldn’t be her fate. He mustered every atom of grace he had, standing tall as his eyes glowed blue, tossing the two demons holding him down either with ease.

“Gabriel! What are you doin’ son? You know too well what I can do to you! What I can do to her! I broke you!” Asmodeus screamed, releasing Liv, ready to fight the rekindled archangel, “You’re too weak!”

With another push of all he had, Gabriel’s eyes turned to white, his grace washing through him, healing his wounds, clearing the evidence of his time in hell from his face, wings stretching free for the first time in a thousand years. His eyes quickly fell to Liv, who had crumpled onto the floor, silently instructing her to move, to run. She understood, scrambling to the wall between Sam and Cas, her eyes staying locked on Gabriel, his freshly revived appearance, and the silhouette of his wings spanning the entire wall.

“Not anymore. Oh, by the way, I always hated that dumbass suit,” Gabriel snapped, raising his hand in front of him.

He could feel his grace draining as pushed it through his fingertips, lighting fire to the leader of Hell. He grinned as the demon’s screams echoed against the walls, willing the same pain Asmodeus had brought on to him for a thousand years into the flames, hoping he felt every inch of his skin burning off his bones before he was granted the relief of death. As his face finally engulfed into the flames, Gabriel felt a wave of relief. It was over. At least this part. He’d worry about the rest later.

As the smoke cleared, the pained cries finally ceasing and the scent of sulfur lying thickly in the air, Liv slowly started to return to her senses. They’d won. Gabriel stood tall in front of the bunker’s entrance. The lights had powered back on and she could really see him now; all evidence of his time in hell was gone, minus his ratty clothing. Sam and Castiel were still on either side of her, their eyes also glued to the rejuvenated archangel. In that moment, she realized everything she’d come to know was going to change. The blinders were being removed; Gabriel was here. The question was, what would he want?

Sam was the first to speak, his voice high with shock and relief, “Gabriel?”

“Sam,” Gabriel greeted, strong and sure. “Castiel.”

When his eyes fell to her, the air left his lungs in an alleviated whoosh. From outward appearances, she looked fine, but his worry got the best of him, and he did one thing he always swore he wouldn’t. His track record hadn’t been so great in the kept promises department, so one more faux-pas certainly wasn’t going to worsen the circumstances. He dipped briefly into her mind, feeling her emotions, reading her thoughts. Doubt, fear, relief and love all mingled in a pool of uncertainty and sadness, the image of him bloody and beaten still seared into the front of her brain. Her heart was pounding in her chest, adrenaline still pumping through her veins, yet there was a gentleness to it all.

Swaying as she rose, she stood first as he started descending down the stairs. It was taking too long and going too fast at the same time. For the first time in ten years, the butterflies in her stomach woke as his bare foot landed on the floor. She felt her breath hitch in her throat as his eyes came into view. The perfect blend of gold and amber met her gaze. He was still just as beautiful as the last time she’d seen him, with his honey hair, sharp, angled nose and prominent upper lip, his jaw now covered by the lightest dusting of stubble. He’d always been perfect, but something about him now made her heart swell just a little bit more.

He stopped a few inches away from her, keeping a safe distance, and it killed him to do so. He wanted to gather her in his arms, feel her warmth and the security she had always given him. Asmodeus had taunted him with, and in, her form for so long, and to see her now, he remembered the one feature of hers that he never could replicate, although he’d tried. It broke whatever pieces of him were left. Her eyes, soft and reverent, looking at him like he was all she’d ever need, all she ever wanted, but there had always been a glint of fear dancing behind it all. A fear of what, he’d never quite been able to pinpoint until now, as that glint had morphed into a solar surge. He’d assumed it was because of his past, or what he was, or the things she’d seen him do, but now he realized it was a fear of losing him.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel whispered, bowing his head. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Her strength finally faltered and a choked sob broke free from her throat, startling the other two men in the room. They’d never seen anything but stoic from her. Even after his death all those years ago, she’d held herself together until she was out of sight, out of earshot. Now, there was no control. She reached forward, grabbing Gabriel’s forearms as her sorrow wretched through her entire body.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” Gabriel cooed, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around her neck.

“We’ll...give you two a minute,” Sam mumbled, grabbing Cas’ arm and pulling him toward the kitchen, his heart breaking for the pair.

Liv’s arms hung loosely by her sides, unable to reach up and wrap around the waist of the man holding her close. She was wailing, nine years of pent up emotion had finally spilled over and there was no stopping it now. Her face was buried in the soft skin of his neck and, despite how filthy his clothes were, it was still that same warm and arid smell she’d been haunted by clouding her senses. Gabriel stayed silent, letting her release whatever it was she needed to get out within the safety of his embrace. Her tears had soaked into his shirt, making the thin, gauzy fabric he was desperate to get off stick to his skin, but for the moment he didn’t care. Gently, he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, feeling the way her hair felt against his skin again and silently begging for more.

Finally, she calmed enough to become more aware of her surroundings. She reached her arms up and linked them under his, hands gripping his shoulders tightly, pulling her body impossibly closer to him. When her sobs turned to ragged gasps and whimpers, he pulled away just enough to look down into her red and swollen brown eyes.

“Better?” He asked softly with a lopsided smirk, using his thumb to wipe he residual wetness off her puffy cheeks.

“Not really,” She responded, leaning her head into his hand.

“Not yet.”

She took a deep, clarifying breath and pulled out of Gabriel’s arms. It was time to hit the reset button and get back to work. There was only so much time for petty emotions, and this had already gone on too long. It was time to assess the damages to him and work them out, to figure out where all of this was going to fall.

“Hey, uh, we need to talk Gabriel.” Sam entered, almost right on cue, Castiel on his heels.

Gabriel and Liv, unknowingly to them, moved like a unit. Gabriel sat on the slightly elevated decorative edge to the staircase, backed by the massive stone pillar beside the entrance to the library, where she had taken the stair right beside him, her shoulder gently leaning on his calf. It was almost gravitational, and it had taken them all of twenty minutes to get back here. For years, Dean had called foul on the whole arrangement, but seeing them now, Sam didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more real. Bronte had a point, whatever souls were made of, theirs were the same.

Sam started at the beginning, explaining to both of them the situation at hand with Jack, Michael, and the Apocalypse alternate world, watching their faces mirror the others expression without even looking at one another.

“Whoa, too much information. Okay, slow down, I’m not.. processing,” Gabriel stammered, his face contorting in confusion.

“This, this is too much. I hunt, monsters, I don’t meddle in time and alternate universes. What the hell have you been doing? Can you not set the world into a crash course for destruction every two years? Jesus,” Liv scoffed as Gabriel stood.  She followed suit, subconsciously grabbing his hand to help pull herself up.

“Don’t bring him into this, still bitter about how all that went down. You know I’m the one that orchestrated that whole, resurrection. I thought it’d be funny-“

Liv held her hand out, stopping him, knowing the snowball effect that was about to occur.

“And there’s more, Michael wants to come to this Earth and destroy it, and we may need your help to fight him,” Castiel added, rolling his eyes at his brother’s favorite story.

“What?” Gabriel responded, all signs of joking dropped from his face.

“Yeah. Welcome to the team,” Sam quipped with a haphazard smile, trying to make light of the situation.

“Uh, yeah, not so much. I mean, thank you for the rescue and for the redemption arc. But uh, I’m not really a team guy so, I’m gonna bounce, okay?”

As Sam and Castiel’s faces fell in shock and horror, Liv’s twisted into regret. They should have known better.

“Um, but you know, it’s been um, what’s the opposite of fun? That,” Gabriel finished as he brushed past Sam towards the door.

“No, Gabriel, don’t, you- you can’t just walk away. If Michael comes here he will end this world!” Sam tacked on, desperation heavy in his tone.

Gabriel’s eyes shot to Liv, who had remained standing on the stairs to the library, “And the last time the world was ending, I put my money on you. I think you can pull it off again.”

Gabriel searched Liv’s face for any hint of what she was feeling, but her expression stayed neutral. She was in no place to force him to do anything, she knew that, and she didn’t want to. She was peeved that Sam had thought this a good time to bring this up, to recruit him onto another life threatening mission, but at the same time she sympathized with him. His entire family was off in some alternate dimension, and all he wanted was their safety. No doubt she knew she would have done the same for the angel now staring at her, waiting for her to make a play.

“I’m not, I’m not picking sides,” She forfeited, drawing burning looks from all three men in the room.

“Of course you are. You’re picking his,” Sam accused, taking a step towards her, his figure towering, face hard.

“Watch it, Sasquatch,” Gabriel warned, his nostrils flaring.

“No. You cannot turn your back on your father’s creation,” Castiel implored, turning the attention back to the issue.

“Castiel, my father turned his back on his creation. Guess it just runs in the family,” Gabriel replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“No. Gabriel. Please,” Sam pleaded, one last time.

But before anyone could respond, he was gone. Liv sighed and rolled her eyes. Of course. Sam and Castiel’s attention turned directly to her, eyes accusing and disappointed. This was going to make for an extremely pleasant exit.

“Don’t look at me like that,” She snapped. “I can’t control him.”

“No. But if anyone can sway him, it’s you. And you just STOOD THERE!” Sam shouted, raising his hands in defeat.

“He needs a MINUTE. He got out of hell yesterday.”

“Stop defending him. I don’t want to hear it. He was our only shot.”

Anger bubbled in her chest; the Winchester way, everyone was a tool or a weapon. It was time to take her leave. Whatever small piece of her that had considered sticking around to help them was shrinking back into the recesses of her conscience, realizing that maybe they deserved what they got. They’d earned their disaster. She had bigger fish to fry and an archangel’s ass to kick for leaving her to clean up his mess.

[atombombbagel]

🌸 Imagine a Sole who continuously do good deeds to the people even the companions without ever revealing themselves. The only thing that stands out about them is that they wear a shirt with wings printed on the back, earning them title of ‘Guardian Angel’. The companions get curious and sought to find this ‘hero’, failing multiple times. Until one lucky day, Sole gets wounded in the leg, ruining their chance of escape, which then allowed the companions to meet this beautiful soul.

(I switched up the ask a little bit, It’s hard to come up with scenarios with Sole just getting hurt, so I only did that for some, hope you don’t mind

Cait:She’d been looking for someone like them, and Angel that could help her getthrough her most difficult time. She’d heard about them, heard the whispersabout them through the Combat Zone, they’d taken down some big raider bossesand maybe they could help her get out of this shithole. When she’d had the time,she’d gone looking for them but every time she came back empty handed.

“Look what we found,” aman spat, bursting through the doors of the Combat Zone. A person struggled inthe man’s arms, trying to pull against him, but his grip was iron tight. Hepushed them to the ground in front of everyone and Cait stepped out from theshadows. Cait’s eyes roamed the person’s body, her eyes widened when shenoticed the famous angel wings printed on the back of their shirt.

“It’s you,” she said in disbelief,coughing when everyone turned to look at her, “I mean, finally a real fight,had enough of you losers anyway,” Cait pulled the person off the ground, “Getready for a fight lads,” She hollered, causing cheers to come from every dangraider in the place. Sole looked up at her, “don’t worry, follow my lead,” shewhispered with a nod, “Yer getting me the fuck out of here.”

Curie:(So although this makes no sense with Curie’s story, here she is already out ofthe vault and already a synth)

Curie rushed to theperson on the ground who was squirming in pain. They were lying on their back,blood oozing out of a wound in their back.

“I’m going to turn youover,” she informed them, receiving a nod from the person, “what’s your name?”she said as she flipped them over, her fingers running over the patterned wingson the back of their shirt.

“Sole,” they struggled tosay, wincing in pain as Curie lifted up their shirt, showing the bullet woundin their lower back. The bullet had luckily missed Sole’s spine.

“I’ve heard about you,”she said, using a pair of tweezers to dig the bullet out of the gaping hole.Sole cried out, biting down on their arm as she removed the bullet, putting itin a metal bowl behind her. She poured some Vodka on the wound, causing anotherstring of cries to fall from Sole’s mouth. She then injected some Med-x and aStimpak, before helping Sole to their feet.

“I’ve heard about youtoo,” Sole said with a smile, “Thanks doc,”

“Perhaps we could learn somemore from each other?” Curie said hopefully, ever since she’d heard about Soleand all the things they’ve done, she’d wanted to assist them, be by their sidein their travels.

“Absolutely.”

Danse:He remembered the wings, the only thing he’d seen when they’d swooped in andsaved him and his team from a group of ravenous feral ghouls. Before he couldthank them for the help, they’d disappeared without a trace, he’d asked aroundbut nothing, no one seemed to know of this mysterious stranger.

Danse was on route, doinga quick supply run when he spotted a person getting dragged to the ground by a groupof feral ghouls. Lucky for them Danse was quick on his feet and good with his weapon.He darted towards them, shooting the ghouls in the process, the laser rifleripping through the skulls of those undead killers. He held out a hand andlifted the person to up on their feet.

“You’d want to be morecareful civilian,” he said, his gun dropping to his side as the person dustedthemselves off.

“I’ll make a note of it,”they said with a smile, “thanks for your help,” they backed up, “Oh, and itsgood to see you again,” they turned, walking in the opposite direction, turningback to watch the stunned expression on Danse’s face as he realised who he’djust saved.

“Wait, I’ve been lookingfor you.”

Deacon:Deacon always thought that he was the hardest man to find, constantly having anew face, new clothes, wearing his shades to hide his appearance. But thisangel was by far, the most difficult to get a hold of, even for a spy likeDeacon. Desdemona had insisted that Deacon find this person, something aboutthem being an asset to the organisation.

He was walking backthrough the Commons, always on high alert, as he made his way back to the NorthChurch. He was startled when a person appeared from seemingly out of nowhere,grabbing onto his shoulder.

“Didn’t mean to scare youbut I need some help,” they said, clinging onto Deacon’s shirt, he wrapped hisarm around their waist and then he noticed the shirt, he’d found them, well,they’d found him. He dragged them into the Church. They both stumbled alongthrough the tunnels, finally reaching a doorway. The door clicked open andDeacon pushed through it, dragging Sole along behind him.

“Looky here everyone, Ifound them,” He said, with a smile. Carrington stopped what he was doing and immediatelycame to Sole’s aid, helping them sit down on a chair as he attended to theirwounds, “We’ve heard great things about you, fancy telling us your name?”

Hancock:They’ve saved multiple ghouls. Preventeda super mutant attack right outside the gates. Angel wings. Hero.

He’d listened to thestories shared between the drifters around town, he’d offered top caps foranyone who could provide any information or even find them, so he couldpersonally thank them for all they’d done for his town. Reward them even. Butnothing, it’s like they didn’t even exist.

Hancock leaned againstthe dirty brick wall, taking a long drag of his cigarette as he listened to Fahrenheitramble on about something. He wasn’t even really listening. He turned aroundwhen he heard the gates crack open, a person stepping through, nearly stumblingto the ground. Then they did, doubling over and heaving on the ground. Hancockflicked his cigarette to the ground, stalking over to the person, his eyeslingering on the print on their shirt.

“Now have I been lookingfor you,” he said, grabbing them under their arm and helping them to theirfeet. He noticed their battered and bruised face, their cuts extending downtheir arms, they looked like they’d been in an explosion.

“Glad to be of service,”Sole replied, coughing heavily. Hancock nodded towards Fahrenheit and shewalked over, wrapping Sole’s other arm around her shoulder as she helped Hancockcarry her towards the Hotel Rexford. He’d talk to them once they’d gotten somerest.  

MacCready:Although he’d wanted to be the one to take out those bastards, Winlock andBarnes, he’d heard that they’d met an unfortunate end by the one they call ‘GuardianAngel’. To him the name didn’t seem like a coincidence, he’d been looking for someonelike them, someone to help him save his son. He didn’t like taking advantage ofpeople, but he’d heard that this person offered help and they didn’t expectanything in return, not that he had anything to give anyway. He’d looked for them,but he couldn’t locate them.

Sole stumbled down thestairs to the Third Rail, leaning over the bar as they ordered a luke-warm beerfrom Whitechapel Charlie. MacCready had walked out of the back room at thatmoment, spotting them at the bar. And he thought maybe, finally, his luck waschanging. He walked up to the bar, sitting down on the stool next to Sole.

“I’ll have what they’rehaving,” MacCready said, looking over at Sole, “You’re just the person I’vebeen looking for,” he said just above a whisper, leaning in to them.

“You and a long line ofpeople, what can I help you with?” Sole said turning to MacCready and thentaking a sip of their drink.

“It’s my son,” he started.

“I’m in,” Sole interrupted,MacCready was surprised by Sole’s reaction, not a lot of people would jump in andoffer to help a Merc. But he wasn’t going to complain about it.

Nick:(Again, this would make no sense with his story, but oh well).

Being a detective with alot of experience in the field, you’d think that Nick Valentine could trackdown anyone, but this person was harder to find than he’d expected. It was onlyby chance that he stumbled upon them. He been investigating the disappearance ofa man which lead him to a raider base. He’d found the man, not alive but thenhe saw them, tied up to a post, another victim to the sick acts of the raiders.He was nimble, getting them in and out without anyone seeing them.

“Thank you,” Sole said, rubbingthe red rings around their wrists where the ropes had cut into their skin.

“No thank you, I’ve heardgreat things about you kid,” he paused, “not a lot of people would help outanyone in these parts, you’re an inspiration,”

“That means a lot comingfrom you Valentine,” they held out their hand to him and he took it, shakingtheir hand, “I’m Sole,”

“It’s great to finallymeet the girl/ man behind the persona,”

Piper:A story, that’s all she wanted. ‘The Guardian Angel’ would make a great title forone of her stories, she was desperately trying to find them, the scoop too goodto pass up. Even though she was good a snooping and spying, getting informationfrom people, she could not for the life of her find this person anywhere. Itslike they were a ghost.

She was walking back fromanother search when she heard a loud crash coming from the left of her. Whenshe turned around she nearly got knocked over by a person, who’d been runningtowards her. They grabbed her hand.

“Run,” They said, causinga panic to shoot up through Piper. She held onto their hand tightly as theyboth ran through the streets. Piper looked back to see a Super mutant suiciderrunning in their direction. Sole pulled her around the corner and pulled a pinout of a grenade with their teeth, tossing it in the direction of the green monstrosity.Sole dived to the ground on top of Piper as the explosion rang out in the background.

Sole slowly liftedthemselves off of Piper, holding out their hand to help her up.

“Sorry about that,” Solesaid as they dusted ash and dirt off their hands. Piper was speechless foronce, still processing what had just happened, “Anyway, you have a good day,”Sole said with a nod, turning around and walking away. That’s when Pipernoticed the trademark wings on their back.

“Wait!” She called out,catching up with them, “I know you don’t know me but I know you,” Sole turnedto face her, “I have a story you’d be perfect for…”

Preston:Reports had come back to him about a wanderer, who had been helping out variousMinutemen settlements, without his authority, not that he was mad about it, healways needed the extra help. He just wanted to meet this person, tell them hewas grateful for all they had done for him and the people of the Commonwealth. Hewanted to put a face to all the amazing acts the person had done.

Preston was visiting anearby settlement to check on things when he noticed a person walking towardsthem, another person walking by their side.

“You saved them! Thankyou!” a settler said, wrapping their arms around their returned friend. Solesmiled at them.

“Anytime,”

“It’s you isn’t it? You’re the one who’s been helping us,” Prestonasked in disbelief, looking at Sole, they turned to face him with a smile.

“I’m guessing you’veheard about me?” he nodded and Sole laughed, “It’s nice to meet you,” they said,shaking Preston’s hand. He had so many questions for them, but he didn’t wantto creep them out.

“Sorry, Yes, uh Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. Likewise. I have somany questions,” She stuttered, making Sole laugh. 

“Of course, what do youwant to know?”