#frank vanishes without any contact

[carionto]

We'll do it our way

Been reading a bunch of Humans are Space Orcs and the like, and got me thinking - what if when aliens found humanity and our level of technology and method of propulsion for space travel, they decided that since explosions are way too hazardous and risky, that they're just not gonna let us leave on our vessels (via BS alien magic space tech). As a sort of intergalactic rite of passing (and poor results in the past of elevating a species like that), we have to figure out on our own how to not blow ourselves up once in space. But humans can be spiteful. We "have" to go in a direction they want? Fuck that. Aliens put a dome around Earth so we can't leave? Okay, that's a clear and practical problem to solve. Let's fix that instead!

_____________________________________

It had been just over sixty local cycles since First Contact with Humanity, and exactly sixty since the Federation had unanimously deemed it necessary to position a Responsibility Barrier around Earth.

Through countless observation relays, mass field generators, warp inhibitors (and the less spoken of and even less used laser batteries), any vessel - outside of local communication satellites, unmanned research vessels, or suborbital test vehicles - were prevented from leaving the planet.

Upon discovering Humanity, the Exploratory Commission Fleet quickly discovered a very hardy, innovative, diverse, violent, and adaptable advanced civilization on the cusp of entering the interstellar stage. There was one problem. Humans used explosions. For. Everything.

Their orbital spaces were already littered with micro-debris from their regular ventures into the local system. Practically every type of propulsion utilized highly volatile solutions, and they didn't even pretend to hide or be embarrassed by their history of weaponizing, well, anything and everything to be frank.

Wars and violence were common among nearly all sentient species, but there was something… peculiar, about how nonchalant the Human diplomats were about their supposed "solutions" to "tragedies" of the past.

We explained to them the dangers of their methods, showed examples of what happens when such line of thinking, without discarding these explosive ways, leads to - impassable fields of junk around once well traveled planets, now isolated; hastily jettisoned parts causing mayhem and destruction years down the line; entire Habitation Stations and their occupants reduced to faint rings around their homeworld from an "unplanned ignition"

We explained why we could not simply give them our safe technology, as they have to on their own give up the irresponsible ways first, lest they turned what was once safe into yet another means to an end. They "said" they understood, but it was all too clear the Humans would not follow our advice just like that. Hence the Barrier. This really angered the Humans.

They said it was stifling, that it was barbaric to "imprison" them like that. We tried to explained again why, but they would not listen, but we knew better. This had happened before and we would not allow it to happen again. It was for the greater good of both the Humans and the rest of the Galaxy.

For nearly sixty of their cycles, Humanity continued to advance and develop and flourish. We watched them with excitement at every new avenue of research they steered towards, silently encouraged them to keep going with every failure. They were getting close in several fields, we could see that Humanity was on the precipice of the right track. Then, one day, with a slight shimmer enveloping the planet and an eerie silence on all frequencies, the Earth just… vanished.

The Humans kept their true activity a secret, only after careful analysis of seemingly unrelated and unremarkable records did we figure out they were investigating a long abandoned line of research by all others in the galaxy - interdimensional travel. But there were no other traversable dimensions. That had long been tested by everyone - you can twist and bend and cut through the ones we have, but you are always bound to at least one of them.

It remained a mystery as to what truly happened to Humanity. Officially it was called a tragic scientific accident on an unprecedented scale. Earth and Humanity were memorialized as a bright species with infinite potential, but a recklessness that would serve as one of the starkest examples in the annals of Galactic history.

Until, nearly a millennia later, Earth just… popped back in. Right where it would have been had it continued to orbit around their star, almost as if that's exactly what it had been doing.

There was only a memorial station close to its original orbit, and some small research outposts dotted around the local system - it was decided to not terraform or colonize any of Sol's planets or install major stations within the system, as both a sign of respect to the deceased and a warning to all about the dangers of foolish science.

By the time the scrambled and panicked messages reached the nearest Coalition world and a small squad sent to investigate, everything had changed. Not only did they find Earth and Humanity, they were met by dozens of the largest space worthy vessels anyone had ever conceived of let alone dared to construct; orbital shipyards that each would put the production capacity of whole planetary SYSTEMS to shame; and a defiant attitude unmatched even by the previously thought exaggerated tales of our brief history with Humanity before the Vanishing.

The message we received from the Humans was simple:

"Thanks for the advice, but we do things our way. Now, let's start over, from an equal footing, shall we?"

(more while we were gone)

[books-of-ochre]

"A genre of fiction that is intended to disturb, frighten or scare."A genre of fiction that is intended to disturb, frighten or scare." - Wikipedia

. Within These Walls, Ania Ahlborn With his marriage on the rocks and his life in shambles, washed up crime writer Lucas Graham is desperate for a comeback. So when he's promised exclusive access to notorious cult leader and death row inmate Jeffrey Halcomb, the opportunity is too good to pass up.

Good Reads || My Rating: 4/5

. The Wasp Factory, Iain Banks Frank, no ordinary sixteen-year-old, lives with his father outside a remote Scottish village. Their life is, to say the least, unconventional. Frank's mother abandoned them years ago: his elder brother Eric is confined to a psychiatric hospital; and his father measures out his eccentricities on an imperial scale. Frank has turned to strange acts of violence to vent his frustrations. In the bizarre daily rituals there is some solace. But when news comes of Eric's escape from the hospital Frank has to prepare the ground for his brother's inevitable return - an event that explodes the mysteries of the past and changes Frank utterly.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. Tender is the Flesh, Agustina Bazterrica His wife has left him, his father is sinking into dementia, and Marcos tries not to think too hard about how he makes a living. After all, it happened so quickly. First, it was reported that an infectious virus has made all animal meat poisonous to humans. Then governments initiated the “Transition.” Now, eating human meat—“special meat”—is legal. Marcos tries to stick to numbers, consignments, processing. Then one day he’s given a gift: a live specimen of the finest quality. Though he’s aware that any form of personal contact is forbidden on pain of death, little by little he starts to treat her like a human being. And soon, he becomes tortured by what has been lost—and what might still be saved.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. The Shining Girls, Lauren Beukes Harper Curtis is a killer who stepped out of the past. Kirby Mazrachi is the girl who was never meant to have a future. Kirby is the last shining girl, one of the bright young women, burning with potential, whose lives Harper is destined to snuff out after he stumbles on a House in Depression-era Chicago that opens on to other times. At the urging of the House, Harper inserts himself into the lives of these shining girls, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He's the ultimate hunter, vanishing without a trace into another time after each murder — until one of his victims survives. Determined to bring her would-be killer to justice, Kirby joins the Chicago Sun-Times to work with the reporter, Dan Velasquez, who covered her case. Soon Kirby finds herself closing in on an impossible truth . . .

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. Devolution: A Firsthand Account of the Rainier Sasquatch Massacre, Max Brooks As the ash and chaos from Mount Rainier’s eruption swirled and finally settled, the story of the Greenloop massacre has passed unnoticed, unexamined . . . until now. But the journals of resident Kate Holland, recovered from the town’s bloody wreckage, capture a tale too harrowing—and too earth-shattering in its implications—to be forgotten. Because if what Kate Holland saw in those days is real, then we must accept the impossible. We must accept that the creature known as Bigfoot walks among us—and that it is a beast of terrible strength and ferocity.

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. A Clockwork Orange, Anthony Burgess In Anthony Burgess's influential nightmare vision of the future, criminals take over after dark. Teen gang leader Alex narrates in fantastically inventive slang that echoes the violent intensity of youth rebelling against society.

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. House of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski A young family moves into a small home on Ash Tree Lane where they discover something is terribly wrong: their house is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Of course, neither Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist Will Navidson nor his companion Karen Green was prepared to face the consequences of that impossibility, until the day their two little children wandered off and their voices eerily began to return another story—of creature darkness, of an ever-growing abyss behind a closet door, and of that unholy growl which soon enough would tear through their walls and consume all their dreams.

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. Geek Love, Katherine Dunn Geek Love is the story of the Binewskis, a carny family whose mater- and paterfamilias set out ― with the help of amphetamine, arsenic, and radioisotopes ― to breed their own exhibit of human oddities. There's Arturo the Aquaboy, who has flippers for limbs and a megalomaniac ambition worthy of Genghis Khan . . . Iphy and Elly, the lissome Siamese twins . . . albino hunchback Oly, and the outwardly normal Chick, whose mysterious gifts make him the family's most precious ― and dangerous ― asset. As the Binewskis take their act across the backwaters of the U.S., inspiring fanatical devotion and murderous revulsion; as its members conduct their own Machiavellian version of sibling rivalry, Geek Love throws its sulfurous light on our notions of the freakish and the normal, the beautiful and the ugly, the holy and the obscene. Family values will never be the same.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. American Psycho, Bret Easton Ellis Patrick Bateman is twenty-six and works on Wall Street. He is handsome, sophisticated, charming and intelligent. He is also a psychopath. Taking us to head-on collision with America's greatest dream—and its worst nightmare—American Psycho is a bleak, bitter, black comedy about a world we all recognize but do not wish to confront.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. Leech, Hiron Ennes In an isolated chateau, as far north as north goes, the baron’s doctor has died. The doctor’s replacement has a mystery to solve: discovering how the Institute lost track of one of its many bodies. For hundreds of years the Interprovincial Medical Institute has grown by taking root in young minds and shaping them into doctors, replacing every human practitioner of medicine. The Institute is here to help humanity, to cure and to cut, to cradle and protect the species from the apocalyptic horrors their ancestors unleashed. In the frozen north, the Institute's body will discover a competitor for its rung at the top of the evolutionary ladder. A parasite is spreading through the baron's castle, already a dark pit of secrets, lies, violence, and fear. The two will make war on the battlefield of the body. Whichever wins, humanity will lose again.

Good Reads || My Rating: 4/5

. Coraline, Neil Gaiman In Coraline's family's new flat are twenty-one windows and fourteen doors. Thirteen of the doors open and close. The fourteenth is locked, and on the other side is only a brick wall, until the day Coraline unlocks the door to find a passage to another flat in another house just like her own. Only it's different.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. Horrorstör, Grady Hendrix Something strange is happening at the Orsk furniture superstore in Cleveland. Every morning, employees arrive to find broken Kjerring wardrobes, shattered Brooka glassware, and vandalized Liripip sofa beds—clearly someone, or something, is up to no good. To unravel the mystery, five young employees volunteer for a long dusk-till-dawn shift and encounter horrors that defy imagination.

Good Reads || My Rating: 4.5/5

. The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires, Grady Hendrix Steel Magnolias meets Dracula in this New York Times best-selling horror novel about a women's book club that must do battle with a mysterious newcomer to their small Southern town.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. The Hunger, Alma Katsu A tense and gripping reimagining of one of America's most fascinating historical moments: the Donner Party with a supernatural twist.

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. 1922, Stephen King A violence awakens inside a man when his wife proposes selling off the family homestead, setting in motion a grisly train of murder and madness.

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. Carrie, Stephen King An unpopular teenage girl, whose mother is a religious fanatic, is tormented and teased to the breaking point by her more popular schoolmates. She uses her hidden telekinetic powers to inflict a terrifying revenge.

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. Gerald’s Game, Stephen King When a game of seduction between a husband and wife ends in death, the nightmare has only begun…

Good Reads || My Rating: 4/5

. Pet Sematary, Stephen King When Dr. Louis Creed takes a new job and moves his family to the idyllic, rural town of Ludlow, Maine, this new beginning seems too good to be true. Yet despite Ludlow's tranquility, there's an undercurrent of danger that lingers...like the graveyard in the woods near the Creeds' home, where generations of children have buried their beloved pets. Behind the "pet sematary", there is another burial ground, one that lures people to it with seductive promises...and ungodly temptations. A blood-chilling truth is hidden there - one more terrifying than death itself and hideously more powerful. An ominous fate befalls anyone who dares tamper with this forbidden place, as Louis is about to discover for himself....

Good Reads || My Rating: 4/5

. The Dark Tower Series, Stephen King The Dark Tower series tells the story of Roland Deschain, Mid-World’s last gunslinger, who is traveling southeast across Mid-World’s post-apocalyptic landscape, searching for the powerful but elusive magical edifice known as The Dark Tower. Located in the fey region of End-World, amid a sea of singing red roses, the Dark Tower is the nexus point of the time-space continuum. It is the heart of all worlds, but it is also under threat. Someone, or something, is using the evil technology of the Great Old Ones to destroy it.

More info.

. The Shining, Stephen King Jack Torrance’s new job at the Overlook Hotel is the perfect chance for a fresh start. As the off-season caretaker at the atmospheric old hotel, he’ll have plenty of time to spend reconnecting with his family and working on his writing. But as the harsh winter weather sets in, the idyllic location feels ever more remote . . . and more sinister. And the only one to notice the strange and terrible forces gathering around the Overlook is Danny Torrance, a uniquely gifted five-year-old.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov The most famous and controversial novel from one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century tells the story of Humbert Humbert’s obsessive, devouring, and doomed passion for the nymphet Dolores Haze.

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. I’m Thinking of Ending Things, Iain Reid In this deeply scary and intensely unnerving debut novel, Jake and a woman known only as "The Girlfriend" are on a drive to visit his parents at their secluded farm. But when Jake leaves "The Girlfriend" stranded at an abandoned high school, what follows is a twisted unraveling of the darkest unease, an exploration into psychological frailty.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. Cry to Heaven, Anne Rice This is the story of the castrati, the exquisite and otherworldly sopranos whose graceful bodies and glorious voices win the adulation of royal courts and grand opera houses throughout Europe. These men are revered as idols—and, at the same time, scorned for all they are not.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. The Lives of the Mayfair Witches, Anne Rice A trilogy of supernatural horror/fantasy novels that centers on a family of witches whose fortunes have been guided for generations by a spirit named Lasher. 

More info.

. The Vampire Chronicles, Anne Rice A series of gothic vampire novels that revolves around the fictional character Lestat de Lioncourt, a French nobleman turned into a vampire in the 18th century.

More info.

. Wolf Gift Chronicles, Anne Rice The tale of Reuben Golding, a well to do journalist at the fictional San Francisco Observer who is attacked by and turned into a werewolf.

More info.

. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley Frankenstein tells the story of Victor Frankenstein, a young scientist who creates a sapient creature in an unorthodox scientific experiment. 

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. The Abominable, Dan Simmons Deep in Tibet and high on Everest, the three climbers -- joined by the missing boy's female cousin -- find themselves being pursued through the night by someone . . . or something. This nightmare becomes a matter of life and death at 28,000 feet - but what is pursuing them? And what is the truth behind the 1924 disappearances on Everest? As they fight their way to the top of the world, the friends uncover a secret far more abominable than any mythical creature could ever be.

Good Reads || My Rating: 4/5

. The Terror, Dan Simmons The men on board the HMS Terror — part of the 1845 Franklin Expedition, the first steam-powered vessels ever to search for the legendary Northwest Passage — are entering a second summer in the Arctic Circle without a thaw, stranded in a nightmarish landscape of encroaching ice and darkness. Endlessly cold, they struggle to survive with poisonous rations, a dwindling coal supply, and ships buckling in the grip of crushing ice. But their real enemy is even more terrifying. There is something out there in the frigid darkness: an unseen predator stalking their ship, a monstrous terror clawing to get in.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. Baby Teeth, Zoje Stage Meet Hanna. She’s the sweet-but-silent angel in the adoring eyes of her Daddy. He’s the only person who understands her, and all Hanna wants is to live happily ever after with him. But Mommy stands in her way, and she’ll try any trick she can think of to get rid of her. Ideally for good. Meet Suzette. She loves her daughter, really, but after years of expulsions and strained home schooling, her precarious health and sanity are weakening day by day. As Hanna’s tricks become increasingly sophisticated, and Suzette's husband remains blind to the failing family dynamics, Suzette starts to fear that there’s something seriously wrong, and that maybe home isn’t the best place for their baby girl after all.

Good Reads || My Rating: 3.5/5

. The Luminous Dead, Caitlin Starling In which a caver on a foreign planet finds herself on a terrifying psychological and emotional journey for survival.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

. Ghost Story, Peter Straub In the sleepy town of Milburn, New York, four old men gather to tell each other stories—some true, some made-up, all of them frightening. A simple pastime to divert themselves from their quiet lives. But one story is coming back to haunt them and their small town. A tale of something they did long ago. A wicked mistake. A horrifying accident. And they are about to learn that no one can bury the past forever...

Good Reads || My Rating: 4/5

. Ring Series, Koji Suzuki The novels revolve around a curse, embodied within a videotape, unleashed by Sadako Yamamura, the ghost of a psychic who was raped and murdered before being thrown into a well.

More info.

. Cabin at the End of the World, Paul Tremblay Seven-year-old Wen and her parents, Eric and Andrew, are vacationing at a remote cabin on a quiet New Hampshire lake. Their closest neighbors are more than two miles in either direction along a rutted dirt road. One afternoon, as Wen catches grasshoppers in the front yard, a stranger unexpectedly appears in the driveway.  Leonard and Wen talk and play until Leonard abruptly apologizes and tells Wen, “None of what’s going to happen is your fault.” Three more strangers then arrive at the cabin carrying unidentifiable, menacing objects. As Wen sprints inside to warn her parents, Leonard calls out: “Your dads won’t want to let us in, Wen. But they have to. We need your help to save the world.” Thus begins an unbearably tense, gripping tale of paranoia, sacrifice, apocalypse, and survival that escalates to a shattering conclusion, one in which the fate of a loving family and quite possibly all of humanity are entwined. 

Good Reads || My Rating: 3.5/5

. Hide, Kiersten White The challenge: spend a week hiding in an abandoned amusement park and don't get caught. The prize: enough money to change everything. Even though everyone is desperate to win--to seize their dream futures or escape their haunting pasts--Mack feels sure that she can beat her competitors. All she has to do is hide, and she's an expert at that. It's the reason she's alive, and her family isn't. But as the people around her begin disappearing one by one, Mack realizes this competition is more sinister than even she imagined, and that together might be the only way to survive.

Good Reads || My Rating: 5/5

[danses-with-dogmeat]

I'm feeling a little melancholy at the moment, how would Hancock comfort/cheer up a lady sole survivor who is feeling down in the dumps? This can be a headcanon or a drabble, whichever your muse wishes to write and it's a romantic Hancock who's pining for the sole. Both have low self-esteem and sole is shy. Thank you in advance!

Thank you so much for the ask, anon! I love this prompt, and I think I’m going to do headcannons for all the companions based on it at some point, but for now, here is a drabble! Hopefully this is the kinda thing you were looking for, I think I might’ve gotten a little carried away, but I hope you enjoy!

Hancock surveyed his bar, looking over the patrons, and back up to Magnolia as she began her rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night,” and the ghoul's smokey gaze once again fell to the seat in the corner of the Third Rail. 

She was there, nursing an iced beverage in her hand; the amber liquid appearing to be whiskey.

"Tell me Fahrenheit, do people drink whiskey when they're happy?" He turned to the redhead lounging on the couch beside him.

"Depends how much." She stared ahead, absentmindedly swirling the gin and tonic in her hand.

"Three or four glasses in the last hour." He said. She followed his gaze to where it rested, rolling her eyes at him.

"You've been staring at her for the past hour? Tell me, why haven’t you gone over there yet? I know you enjoy a healthy dose of masochism every once in a while, but the self-induced suffering seems pretty constant whenever she’s involved.” Fahrenheit gestured with her glass towards the corner by the bar, where Sole was seated, already close to being finished with her beverage.

“Always so quick to judge. Sole’s a popular gal, I thought she might be waiting for someone. If that was the case, then who am I to-”

“Ugh, if you don’t get your ass over there and talk to her, I’m locking you out of the State House.” Hancock’s hat tipped forward as his gaze migrated to the floor of the bar.

Fahrenheit shifted to sit up from her lounging position. “Alright, what the hell is it with this chick? It’s like she turns you into that kid on the radio. All scared and awkward.”

“I know. Listen, I don’t know what it is either. She’s just… different. I actually give a shit about what she thinks of me, you know? And I don’t wanna lose her as a friend because I was coming onto her too strong.”

“I think you’re just being a pussy about having real feelings for someone.”

“Shit, red, that’s cold. Even for you.” At that, Hancock pushed his hat back to its correct position on his head and stood, rolling his shoulders as he prepared to face the person he had “real” feelings for.

“Fine,” he turned to glance back at Fahrenheit one more time, “You win. But if this goes south, I’m holding you responsible.” He turned and started towards the bar.

“And what it if it goes north?” Fahrenheit called after him, uttering a soft chuckle as he walked away. 

Hancock noticed Sole’s eyes fall on him as he approached the bar and tried not to be too obvious as he ordered another whiskey on ice for her, and one for himself. He was still coming off a mentats high, but he needed something to take the edge off. Grabbing the drinks, he turned deliberately to her.

“How you holdin’ up, sister? You looked a little low there.” He gestured at her now empty glass, reaching out to hand her the new drink.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” She said, smiling weakly at him as she took it.

“That seat taken?”

She looked to her left and shook her head.

“All yours, if you want.”

“Course I do, who wouldn’t wanna sit next to a lovely little thing like you?” She let out a feeble chuckle at his words, and the ridge above his eyes knitted together as he noticed the lack of light behind her eyes as she stared down at the floor.

He took a swig of his whiskey, draining half of his glass in one gulp. Sole looked over and drew her own glass to her lips, grimacing slightly at the bite of the whiskey. The two sat in silence for a bit, listening as Magnolia’s song came to an end and the conversations around the bar grew to a dull roar. 

“Sorry I’m not better company, Hancock.” She uttered quietly. 

“Nonsense. I could sit silently beside you all night, and you’d still be better company than half the commonwealth. But hey, if you wanna talk about it, I know it doesn’t look like it, but I got two good ears over here.” She laughed a little more genuinely at that, and Hancock felt a little flutter in his chest.

“Thanks, but really it’s- Okay, it’s just… nothing.”

“Hmm. Yeah, seems like it. Real convincing there, sister.” She finally looked up to meet his gaze. “C’mon, Sole,” he whispered softly, “it’s okay, you can tell me. After all I done, you think I’m in any position to judge you?” Sole looked away and downed her drink, before placing her fifth empty glass on the table beside the others. He drained the remainder of his own beverage in response, hoping the gesture might help settle her nerves a bit.

Sole took a deep, shaky breath. 

“It’s not… something.” She stopped, looking at him with desperation behind her eyes, willing him to understand without her having to say it. Hancock was many, many things, and he would become almost anything if it meant pleasing Sole, but he wasn’t a mind reader. Instead, he smiled at her and nodded for her to continue.

“It’s… God, it’s just everything. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I used to feel like I had made it so far. When I saw the world after leaving that vault, I just, I don’t know, I just adapted. I moved on and I survived. Even when I learned that 200 years had passed, and I realized that everyone I ever knew was dead, I persisted. I pushed through. I was sad, of course, but at least I could function. Then, when I found out about Shaun and the Institute, when I saw him and... and he was older than me, when I found out how he felt about me, the way he saw me as nothing more than an experiment, I just…” Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, punctuating the end of her sentence. No words were needed now, he understood. He wanted to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, to let her know she wasn’t alone, that he was here for her, and would be as long as he was living. Instead, he reached a scarred hand towards her own that rested on the arm of her chair. She shuddered slightly as his fingers made contact with the back of her hand, and he was afraid she would pull away. But she just dropped her gaze to watch as he settled his hand atop hers, his thumb gently stroking over her knuckles.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re goin’ through, Sole.” He said, his dark eyes meeting hers, “But no matter what, I’m here for you. Anything you need, it’s yours, you hear?” She sniffled slightly, and Hancock thought he heard a soft “thanks,” but he couldn’t be sure.

“You remember the day we met?” He said, his thumb still brushing softly over her hand.

“How could I forget? You killed a guy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I sure did, heh.”

“What was his name again?” She asked him, a little bit of life returning to her strained voice.

“Finn.”

“Oh yeah, I remember now.”

“Yeah, real jackass, he was.” Sole grinned at that, and Hancock's eyes lit up, reveling in the fact that his words managed to bring a smile to her face, meager as it may be, it beat tears any day.

“You remember why I killed him?” He asked her.

“Cuz he was a jackass?” The ghoul chuckled at that, his hand squeezing hers ever so slightly.

“Close, but that’s not all of it. He was a jackass to you, sweetheart. And that didn’t sit right with me, even then.” Her eyes met his as she began to understand where he was going with this.

“But lemme tell you something, how I cared then? Shit’s nothing compared to how I care now.” He whispered the last sentence, leaning in closer to her. Hancock willed himself to say more, to tell her how much he cared for her, tell her everything he would do for her, he wanted to make a move to hold her hand tighter, or to lean into her even further, to eliminate the gap between them altogether, but he was paralyzed by her unbroken gaze.

“You mean it?” She whispered so softly, he almost didn’t hear it over the buzz of the bar.

“You kiddin’? Every damn word. And just for the record, there’s nothing wrong with the way you’re feeling right now, Sole. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and if anybody else went through the shit that you have, they wouldn’t have made it through day one. But you? You haven’t just survived out here, you’ve made a difference. You didn’t have to, background like yours, you coulda become a fuckin raider or crime boss or some shit and I wouldn’t have blamed you, but no. Here you go, one-upping everyone else who thought they had a tragic backstory and becoming the best damn person in the Commonwealth. Really ruins it for the rest of us rabble, you know.” Sole’s eyebrows creased together and her eyes began to glisten again as tears threatened to spill over. Shit. What did I say? Hancock’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried desperately to think of a way to undo whatever he just did. That feeling soon vanished as Sole fell forward, arms draping around Hancock’s shoulders, as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. He released the breath he had been holding and brought his own arms around to envelop her, squeezing tightly as warmth spread through the expanse of his chest.

“Thank you.” She whispered softly. And Hancock was sure he’d heard it this time.

[missjaystone]

Coming Home

Summary: After a year alone, your lover finally comes back home, but he’s not the same. Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader Word Count: 2,270 Warnings: Vague-ish smut, angsty-ish, meh

You stared at the naked man behind you in the mirror with a surprised grin on your face, a quiet laugh leaving you "you can't be serious, Billy." He chuckled and nodded, his own grin adorning his face as he rested his head on your shoulder and pulled your back into his chest "I'm one hundred percent serious, baby, I want you to marry me." "Weren't you ever warned about marrying strippers?" You asked with a hum. "I was, but I know you aren't after my money, and I don't mind your job, makes me feel proud knowing other guys can only look at you and dream, while I get to fuck you senseless every night," he said as he ground his hips into yours. "So you wanna marry me to stroke your own ego?" You asked sarcastically. "And because I love you. You're not only the most beautiful girl I've ever seen but you're smart, funny, and I always feel like the luckiest guy in the world when I'm with you. Not to mention, we'd have some pretty fucking cute babies, I mean, look at us," he pecked your neck softly and grinned.

He picked the ring up from the box on the counter and slid it onto your finger "what do you say babygirl? Wanna be Mrs. Billy Russo?" "I say fuck yes," you said excitedly. You turned around to kiss him and giggled against his lips when he quickly picked you up and set you on the counter. Another round of gleeful, celebratory sex followed before you two showered, which led to another round before he left for work. You found yourself looking forward to planning the wedding. Unfortunately, he went missing five months later. He never came back to your shared apartment, you found his car with several parking tickets, and god knows the NYPD wasn't any help at all, the entire city knew that.

Life without Billy took some getting used to; you weren't even sure it was something you could get used to. It hurt, coming home to a cold bed in an empty apartment. What hurt even more though, was having to watch your stomach grow in the months that followed. Being handed the small brown-eyed bundle with his tuft of dark hair nearly made you break. You heavily contemplated giving the child up for adoption, but when you thought of Billy, you knew that's not what he would have wanted, especially given his own experience in the system. You also thought about quitting the gentlemen's club, finding something more suitable for a mom, you did have a computer programming degree, your student loans were the reason you started working at the club, but nothing paid as well and offered the flexibility you needed. You got back to work when he turned a month old, the elderly woman in the apartment next door offered to babysit him while you were gone.

"Hey, Kitty, you've got a guy in room three asking for you," your manager said as you made your way off stage, giving a small hum in reply. You sighed quietly on your way to the room, already counting down the minutes until you could leave; 43 minutes and 21 seconds. How is it that almost a year since he vanished, he was still so prevalent in your mind? After closing the door behind you, you took in the man's appearance. He wore loose jeans and a dark grey hoodie that obscured his features. You sighed to yourself and thought 'oh great, another creep'. This wasn't a new thing, men in their thirties and forties came in dressed like this all the time, trying to obscure their features so nobody could ever identify them in case any snooping wives came around.

"Did you have a specific song in mind for your dance?" You asked as you picked up the tablet that connected to the room's speakers. "It'll be a bit of an unusual request but, you know that song 'Baby I'm Yours'?" He asked awkwardly. You nearly dropped the device in your hands, biting your lip as tears already began to well; the voice sounded familiar but you couldn't turn and look yet, you couldn't get your hopes up. "There are a number of songs with that name, can you be more specific?" You asked in as steady of a voice as you could manage. "The version by the Arctic Monkeys," he clarified, clearing his throat some. This time, you did drop the tablet; you suddenly felt unsteady in your platform stilettos.

You didn't even hear him get up but you felt his hands on your arms when you started to turn around "don't, please, don't look at me. I need you to remember me as I was." You exhaled deeply and shook your hand, slapping his hands away "no. I deserve to be looked in the eye when you tell me why the fuck you disappeared." When you turned to face him, you were greeted with a white mask that had cracks and breaks drawn on it. He shook his head, gripping your wrists when you tried to take it off "I didn't mean to. I-I was meeting with someone and it turned ugly and next thing I knew, I was in a hospital with memories missing and nightmares. I was there for six months before things started coming back and then I remembered you. I've been trying to find you and say I'm sorry, beg for you back but I'm-I'm not the same man you were engaged to. I barely recognize the man in the mirror now."

Before you had time to think, you yanked one of your wrists out of his grasp and slapped him, the mask falling to the ground. A shocked gasp left your lips as you took in his scarred features, his eyes immediately screwing shut to avoid seeing your expression. "Billy, I-what happened?" You asked quietly. "I was fighting with Frank and uh, he thought this was a fate worse than death. I guess he was right," he answered with a dry chuckle. When you remained speechless, he kept talking "I just wanted to see you one last time, to tell you how much I loved you, but I'm not gonna make you be with someone so hideously, grotesquely disfigured." The way he spoke about himself sent pangs of sadness to your heart. He may not have looked the same but he was far from hideous or grotesque. You were pulled out of your shock when you saw him reaching down for his mask, presumably leaving.

"No." You finally said, looking at him with an angry frown. "I'm sorry?" He asked, his own expression turning shocked when you snatched the mask from his hands. "I said no. You don't get to make that fucking decision for me, Billy! You don't just get to decide if I want to be with you or not! How fucking dare you just show up and decide for me! Do you know how much of a fucking nightmare this past year has been?" You asked, shoving his chest as angry tears began to roll down your cheeks. "I'm just trying to save you the embarrassment of-" he started to say before you started again "I wouldn't be embarrassed because I didn't love you for your looks you egotistical asshole! I loved you for who you were! Even when you were gone, when I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere, I loved you. Every time I look at our son, I think about how much I love you and would give anything to have you back, only for you to come here and tell me you're leaving to spare me the embarrassment. How fucking dare you," you shoved him again, paying zero attention to how he reacted to anything you said.

Your hand was raised to slap him again but he caught your wrist, eyes widened some "we have a son?" "Yes, Billy! And every time I look into his eyes, I'm reminded of everything we shared, everything I'd give up just to have you back in my life, because I loved you with every fiber of my being. I never cared about what you looked like, you made me feel happy and safe and loved and I thought I made you feel the same but I must not have if you think so little of me, that I'd bolt at the sight of you right now." His stance noticeably softened at your words and he frowned at you "do you really think you could spend your life with someone who looks like I do, now? Children are always gonna point and stare when we walk down the street, men are never gonna leave you alone, your girlfriends are gonna tell you you can do better than someone who looks like Frankenstein."

You sighed quietly and gently cupped his cheeks, frowning at the way he flinched before you even came into contact with the marred flesh. The edges of your mouth curled up in a tiny smile as you looked into his eyes "Frankenstein's monster would be lucky to look like you, Billy." A small groan escaped him at your subtle correction. His hands came to rest on your hips. "You fucking nerd," he mumbled with a chuckle as he let you pull him into a kiss like your life depended on it. His lips only left yours when you fell onto the room's couch, quickly pulling him down with you. Your minimal, barely-there "outfit" was quickly gone, leaving you in only the heels while he shed his layers. The minute he was free, he was back on you, two of his fingers teasing your entrance while his thumb circled your clit, pulling soft, needy noises he'd missed oh so much, noises that got him through the nights he spent alone before finding you again.

And when you finally told him you were ready, it took all of his self-control to go slowly and savor the feelings he'd miss; the way your channel squeezed his member like a vise, the way your legs locked around his hips, and his favorite was the way you peppered kisses along his chest, neck, and face before finally meeting his lips. There were tears in your eyes as he slowly moved his hips, tears he kissed away lovingly while holding you as close as he possibly could. "I missed you so much, angel," he whispered against your lips, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "I missed you too, Billy," you whispered back as your fingers tangled in his hair.

Once the moments of adjusting to each other's bodies again passed, Billy started moving his hips roughly, almost angrily like he was trying to make up for lost time (which he was). Each moan he pulled from you gave him a little more confidence and made him go faster, harder, deeper; sure, he was seeking his own pleasure, but he was searching his still-scrambled brain for what got you off before. Finally, he recalled the special spots that made you lose it; he angled his hips up a bit so he was repeatedly pistoning into your g-spot, smirking as you louder moans and swears that escaped you. He began kissing just above your collarbone too, sucking and nibbling on the soft skin until a nice, visible lovebite could be seen.

His lips crashed into yours when he felt you tightening around him right before your climax hit, muffling your moans and his as your release triggered his. His hips moved lazily as you came down with him, both of you panting slightly. He looked down at you adoringly after planting a kiss on your forehead "when are you finished with work?" "Any minute now, I bet," you answered happily. You gave him a quick kiss before lazily getting dressed. You checked the time on the tablet and hummed happily "I finished three minutes ago, apparently. Hurry up and get dressed so we can go home." You playfully winked at him before you left the private room. You quickly went to the back and changed into your street clothes before clocking out, meeting Billy by the door.

With your hand in his, you led him to your car and drove him to your tiny apartment. He hung back while you picked your son up from your neighbor, thanking her repeatedly before you led him inside. He followed you to your son's room, swooning over the chubby infant who babbled in his sleep "what'd you name him?" "William Russo, but I call him Will," you answered with a tired but happy smile, moving the tuft of hair out of the baby's face. "Can I-can I hold him?" He asked nervously, hesitantly. Every single one of his muscles tensed as you carefully put the child in his arms. More tears rolled down his cheeks and he bit his lip to stop from crying out loud "he's perfect." You just nodded in agreement as you watched, leaning against Billy's side some. Suddenly, Billy looked at you with watery eyes and whispered "can he sleep with us tonight? I never want to put him down." You smiled at him and nodded "of course he can, baby." You led Billy back to your room and let him get comfortable in bed while you did you changed into your PJs and did your nightly routine. When you stepped out of the bathroom less than ten minutes later, Billy was already passed out, firmly holding the infant on his chest. You smiled fondly at the sight; your love finally came back home.

Taglist: @bdffkierenwalker​

[shashawip]

Mia Asking Jason About His Feelings For Roy While Cooking

Summary:

Mia asking Jason about his feelings for Roy while cooking, and Jason didn’t deny it.

Notes:

English isn’t my native spoken language so there can be grammatical errors.

This snippet is from an originally planned fiction revolving around Roy, Jason and Mia with Mia being the witness of Royjay’s developing relationship. I may never find a chance to finish their story so I will just post moments that I enjoyed writing while picturing their world. Hope you enjoy.

Published on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33110860

——

It wasn’t Mia's turn to cook today, but not like she minded it and all. She’s in a good mood lately given how well the day job has turned out, and the camaraderie she’s developed with the colleagues at work.

To be frank, the two other housemates’ cooking skills just weren’t satisfying. Jason was alright, if he really paid attention and invested his time to cook. Same cannot be said for Roy, however, who was an entirely different story. The only edibles on his menu might just be that ham and cheese sandwich he seemed to be barely able to assemble.

Mia hummed in joy while she poured her lasagna sauce into a rectangular Le Creuset, which had already been layered with some pre-made lasagna sheets. She raised her eyes to look at Roy who’s sitting across the kitchen island, while still preserving her attention down at the stoneware.

“I never knew you’d be so interested in a wooden door before.” Mia chuckled.

Roy seemed to be dragged out of his lost thoughts and back to the world by her voice, quickly moving away his glaze, looking a little embarrassed. He’d been fixed to the stool he’s sitting on and stared at Jason’s bedroom door with his head rested in his elbow in the same position for quite a while, even the oven had been pre-heated.

Mia continued to work on layering sheets and pouring the mixture from the saucepan, the warm steam spreading the fresh smell of tomato, garlic, slightly caramelized pork and veal bolognese along with other goodness that’s been well combined into the open air kitchen. She kept her head down while going on, “Figured what’s getting into your head. Now that James and I are dating, Jason seems like about to start one himself, you’d be thinking of finding someone to hang out with too?”

Roy admitted almost immediately, let go of an unnoticeable sigh for Mia seemed to not be aware what’s really going on in his mind. “Didn’t you always mention that girl… the one on that team you and Dick were on back then, was it Danielle?” “Donna.” “Donna. Anyway. I don’t know, maybe you can try contacting her again?” Roy looked a little confused by her suggestion. “Donna… she’s a partner and a good friend that’s all. Also I haven’t caught up with the Titans for quite some time.” “But there is always a chance out there somewhere, right?”

By now Roy seemed to have lost interest in this topic, and just shook his head towards the room that Jason was in, and steered the conversation back to what’s happening in there. “You can’t know… that girl, she came here and was after Jason…” Mia knew what he’s going on and about, “If you ask me, well, from a female perspective, what she’s after from Jason could not have been any more obvious.”

Just a little less than half an hour ago, a silver white long haired girl walked in from the front door of their apartment without giving any heads up, she promptly glanced over the room, including Roy who was laying on his back in the couch at the time, and Mia who’s busy preparing their dinner behind the counter. She briefly studied the situation, confirmed with the cook which bedroom was Jason’s, then dashed and disappeared into that room with a not-so-gentle bang as she closed the door, leaving Roy and Mia completely dazzled and curious.

Roy exchanged looks with Mia as he got up. He thought that girl looked familiar before he remembered that he, or rather, him and Jason had met her on the plane from Gotham back to Star City. She was sitting across the aisle, had started to strike a conversation with Jason around halfway of the flight. Roy hadn’t paid them too much attention as he curled up comfortably in his window seat and napped almost the entire time. When their plane had arrived and the seatbelt signs turned green, and Jason stood up to reach their backpack from the overhead bin, Roy saw the girl had slipped a thin piece of paper into the back-pocket of his jeans.

Roy had never seen her again after they got back home, until just now. He bet that Jason had contacted her without him and Mia knowing, and for Christ’s sake, he’d exposed their secret headquarters - an apartment on Winnick St that the three of them would scramble each month to come up with the rent for - to a stranger that hadn’t gone through their little gang’s trust test.

Mia saw him shuffled around yet eyes glued to that door, so she ordered him to buy some more basil leaves from the store that apparently her topping sauce is now short of. Roy groaned before leaving the apartment, still managed to strike a last look at that door that the girl has vanished into.

Some time later, the girl has finally decided to stomp out of that room again, she glimpsed over Mia, without saying a word then bounced across the communal space before walking right out, seemingly assuming oneself to be one of, otherwise, the owner of the house.

When Jason emerged just a little later too, Mia then stared at the ceiling and started talking at loud to herself, “Gotta be impressed with all the soundproof works of these walls, you can’t even hear a thing that you’d expected from the other side.”

Jason said that he and Roslyn merely spoke while in there and nothing more had happened. He looked around and asked where Roy is. Mia told him that she requested him to go to the shop and get her some more basils. Jason pondered on that. Mia figured out he’s gauging whether he should go out too, “I thought he might want some air for himself seeing that both his housemates are romantically involved in a relationship.” Jason started to look confused.

Mia thought to herself, Mia Deardon, don’t you screw this one up. She made an effort to calm her tone of voice before speaking up again. “That girl and you, aren’t you a thing or about to be?” She probed in a slightly joking way.

“A thing?” Jason now looked even more puzzled, as if this image of presumed future has never come across his mind before, “I don’t recall anything remotely like that ever discussed in our conversation.”

Mia stopped what she’s doing and pointed a silicon spatula at him, which was still covered with warm tomato chunks, “Jason, when you let a girl walk into your room, you should be prepared to provide her the chance of a mutually respectful association that is what we called a relationship, instead of just fooling around and walk away like a jerk.” Though in this particular scenario, the female individual seemed to matched that perona more, Mia had no intention of pointing that out.

“I’ve not even had a clue how she found this place, I thought she’s just some upper manager of a business, not some sort of a detective.”

Mia squinted her eyes, clearly not buying, “You know, usually a girl found out a guy’s address through a text message or a phone call.”

“Trust me, Mia, I’ve never even asked for her number.” Jason wiped his forehead and started to feel the angst up his gut, but he tried hard to not let it unleash upon Mia. “Do we have enough ingredients for tonight?” He indicated the kitchen bench filled with mixing bowls and food scraps with a nod. Mia gave it a thought, then answered, “We might have just run out of paprika, can you give Roy a ring and ask him to get a jar from the shop?”

“I’ll head down myself, don’t think he can hear the call right now.” Jason turned around to leave. Just when the door’s about to be opened, Mia called his name.

“Jason, do you love Roy?”

His hand on the doorknob came to a sudden halt. He paused for a second, “Why’d you say that?”

Mia took a deep breath, giving her best to not give away the fact that she’s rehearsed over and over what’s coming next. Instead of answering the question, she continued, “I’m not saying the kind of brotherhood you’d shared with Dick or your other partners from the cop shop, what I meant was something like Ollie and Dinah, like between me and James.”

Jason looked to be caught off guard with what she’s just said, and Mia for one was happy with how this whole situation had been going, as he at least didn’t just abruptly deny the question nor went on interrogating why the hell she’d stir up some shit like that. She heaved a sigh of relief, carefully thanking herself for the sharp observation and analysis she’d secretly inducted on themselves.

Jason looked at her, without saying a word, seemed to be still waiting for her to go on. So she did. “Roy is the kind of person that, how should I put this, would rather let his feelings sink than swim if you don’t show anything to him first. Probably why he and Ollie never saw each other eye to eye when they came across.” Jason nodded in agreement. “If he thinks that the other person doesn’t share a mutual feeling, I bet you he’d take it to his grave than ever speaking up about it.” This actually has contradicted to Roy’s impression on him, as he always saw the guy as carefree and weren’t shy about showing his affections towards the others, but Jason wasn’t going to oppose otherwise and just let Mia kept on.

“He had a crush on a girl in that crime fighting group he was in before, always claimed that he wasn’t good enough for her, so the girl never found out his feeling for her in the end.” Mia fixed her eyes on him, her spatula had now dropped to the bench surface as she leaned against the edge with both of her arms, looking at him demurely, “He’s recently acting more and more like that again. I don’t know about you, but here’s what I thought, if that other person this time at least showed him some sort of hints, maybe he wouldn’t have too many regretful undone deeds to carry with him to his tomb after all.”

Jason lowered his head and thought on that for a moment, his hand already loosen from the doorknob and he just noticed how his palm had been sweating all this long. He turned around to face Mia behind the island, who’d clearly done speaking and was waiting patiently for a response. Jason found her gaze again as he meticulously raised his eyes, “And you think this person… is… me?”

Mia grinned, “We both know that his current social life, or rather, his only life is devoted on bringing down that Merlin’s evil little scheme, which the whole operation comprises only two people, and he’s surprisingly one of them.” She could not have been clearer than that who the other person she’s referring to.

Jason couldn’t bring himself to let out of a word. There was too much to be said, too many questions bursting in his chest. When did Mia start to notice Roy’s altered behaviours as she described? How did she work out the confidence to ask him about it and not even worry that she might’ve been wrong? Did Roy ask her to feel him out, or was her perception of Roy’s feeling for him even legit?

“Jason, hello, someone in there?” His thought had been interrupted with her teases as he drown, “So let me ask again, Jason, do you love Roy? The kind of love like between Ollie and Dinah?”

The former Robin had let out a deep breath before cracking her a smile, “I’m gonna go get us some more paprika from the shop.” Then he opened the door and left the apartment.

None of the three housemates had ever demanded paprika when they had lasagna night, Jason knew better than that, and he secretly thanked Mia a thousand times as he sprinted downstairs.

——

End of snippet

End notes:

I draw Royjay fan arts from time to time, if you liked this story you’re welcome to also check them out on my Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shashawip

[woah-were-halfway-there]

Can you do one where Mia gets a bad cold or something and you freak out and take her to the emergency room because Auston is away on a road trip or something but everything is obviously ok with her.

A/N: Yesssss of course, here you are my dear!

Word Count: 2k

The chances of you sleeping at all that night were slim to none.

Mia had come down with some sort of cold, and it was taking a lot out of her. What started as the sniffles just the day before, soon turned into a nasty cough and an all-around uncomfortableness that really showed.

Gone was your bubbly toddler who was so amazed by the world around her and replaced by a way less upbeat version of herself that refused to leave your side. Not like you wanted to be away from her either, though.

It wasn’t the first time Mia had gotten sick and surely wouldn’t be the last, but you weren’t expecting it to be as bad as it was. You felt terrible, but what made it even worse was how Auston knew nothing about his daughter’s state.

He was in New York for an away game against the Islanders and wasn’t expected to return home until the following day. When the two of you Facetimed earlier that afternoon, he witnessed just how clingy Mia was with you. She kept quiet, not being as chatty as she usually was with her dad while she leaned against your shoulder and cuddled her stuffed whale. Auston knew it was because she wasn’t feeling well, you made sure to tell him that, but because of how busy he was with having to go to practice and play hockey, you weren’t able to give him any updates on Mia’s condition. Which, unfortunately, had only gotten worse.

Whenever she coughed, you could tell it wasn’t comfortable with how she’d look at you with teary eyes before hiding her face in the crook of your neck. Your heart was breaking just watching her, so you immediately called your doctor for some guidance. When you called, the office was due to close in less than half an hour, and you knew there was no way you’d make it through Downtown Toronto traffic in time to get there. Calling was your best option at the time and did help temporarily.

Your doctor told you that honey should help with Mia’s cough and how it was safer than ordinary cough medicines for a child her age. After giving Mia some honey, she then said for you just to watch and see if your daughter got worse or developed any more symptoms. If she did, you were advised to take her to the hospital’s emergency room to get the proper care she may need. You absolutely hated the thought of a hospital trip being a possible outcome but still did as you were told and waited to see what would happen.

The honey helped. After giving it to Mia and explaining how it would help make her better, her cough became less aggressive and seemingly less painful, putting your daughter in a much better mood. She was still very clingy with you for the rest of the evening, which was fine because you knew she still didn’t feel great.

When it came to bedtime, she did not want to sleep in her room at all.

“No, mommy,” she pouted and clung on to you harder when you went to set her in her crib for the night.

“Oh, baby girl, you want to stay with me until you fall asleep?”

She nodded in response, and there was no way you could argue. You and Auston developed a bedtime routine for Mia that she had done really well sticking too. It was still a bit early for her to transition from a crib to an actual toddler bed. However, she had gotten used to going to bed in her own room at the same time each night without you or Auston being nearby until she fell asleep. However, this night was very different, and there was no way you were going to force her routine. So, you settled on taking her back downstairs to watch a Disney movie, knowing the songs would probably put her to sleep like they usually did, but even that didn’t happen.

Throughout the film, you would glance down at your daughter as she stayed curled up beside her and see how she was fighting to keep her eyes open. She was utterly exhausted, but whatever it was she was feeling kept her awake, and you hated it. Even Frank seemed to know something was up with how he laid on the couch near Mia and was always nearby wherever you took her.

As the movie came to an end, she looked up at you with sleepy eyes, and it felt like your heart shattered into a million pieces.

“My sweet girl, I’m sorry you’re not feeling good,” you said as you went to rub your hand through the mop of dark hair, she had grown but paused when your fingers brushed her forehead and felt how hot she was. “Oh, no.”

You were immediately standing up off the couch and carrying your daughter into the kitchen to grab the ear thermometer you knew resided in one of the drawers. Once you located it, you sat her on the counter and took her temperature. She didn’t fight, just sat there and rubbed at her eyes tiredly until the device beeped a moment later with the answer you were looking for.

“Oh no, no, no,” you whispered when you read the tiny 104F that flashed on the screen. “Crap, ok. Mia, we’re going to go see a doctor, alright?”

“Tired, mommy,” was all she said while cuddling into you again as soon as you picked her up.

“I know, baby, but we have to make sure you feel better soon.”

“Frank come?” She asked as you put on her coat and boots before setting her down briefly so you could put on your own.

“No honey, Frank has to stay here,” you replied and leant down to pet the Goldendoodle that waited nearby. “We’ll be back soon, buddy.” And with that, you picked Mia back up, grabbed your keys and wallet, and headed out the front door.

It wasn’t until you climbed into the driver’s seat of your car after buckling Mia into her car seat, that you realized how much of a hot mess you looked like. Your hair was in a messy bun, and the baggy hoodie of Auston’s that you stole did not match the track pants you wore, but you didn’t care. There were more important things to deal with, so after a quick text to your husband telling him to call you as soon as possible, you put the car in reverse, backed out of the driveway, and headed to the nearest emergency room.

It was around 11 p.m. that you finished talking with a nurse and finally received a call from Auston.

“Hey, is everything alright?” His voice sounded through your phone as soon as you answered. “I got your text, are you at home?”

“No, uh, we’re at the hospital,” you sniffled, trying to recompose yourself after all the crying you did while sitting in the waiting room with your sick daughter.

“Wait. What?”

“Mia got worse,” you explained. “Her cough went away for a bit, but it came back, and she now has a fever.”

“Fuck,” he whispered, and you could only imagine him stressfully pushing his hand through his hair like he always did in similar situations. “Is she ok? Have you talked with a doctor?”

“Not yet, just a nurse as she took us to a room. The doctor should be here soon. Mia is passed out in my arms right now, she couldn’t sleep earlier even though she was exhausted, and I feel awful because she’s going to get woken up again once the doctor comes in.”

“I see, so she’s not doing great, huh? And how are you, babe?”

“Not good,” you blubbered, feeling as though you were on the brink of tears again. “I’ve cried a bit tonight. I called your mom and sobbed, and she told me to stop thinking I was a terrible mother because I’m not. I swear she’s a mind reader sometimes.”

“You and me both,” he chuckled. “But she’s right. You need to stop beating yourself up over this.”

“But Aus-.”

“No, buts,” he cut you off. “You’re doing the best you can, babe. I wish I were there right now, but I know Mia is going to be perfectly ok with you watching out for her.”

At that, you smiled.

“She misses you,” you told him, not to make him feel bad for not being there, but to let him know how even in her sick state, Mia still very much so wanted her dad. “Was asking about you when we first got here.”

“God, I want to be there so I can give her the biggest hug.”

“I know, Auston, I’m giving her one for you. I promise.”

“Thank you,” he responded, before falling silent for a moment. “Do you mind if I stay on the phone until the doctor comes?”

“Not at all.”

The two of you caught up and talked about each other’s days. Auston told you all about the game you missed due to these unforeseen circumstances, and you shared the details of your exciting day at home with Mia and Frank. About ten minutes later, someone knocked on the door before it opened, and a woman popped her head inside.

“Hello, I’m here to check up on an Amelia Matthews,” she greeted as you stood up from your seat.

“Yes, this is her.”

“And you’re her mother?”

“I am.”

“Perfect,” she smiled while writing on her clipboard. “If you don’t mind, please bring her over to the examination table and we can see what’s bugging your little girl.”

You did as you were asked, and stood back to let the doctor do her job. However, after you set her down, Mia woke up and wasn’t long before reaching out towards you as she started crying.

Not missing a beat, Auston immediately ended the call before Facetiming just a second later to see his daughter. At the sight of her dad, Mia relaxed. The stress of waking up in a foreign place seemingly vanished as she sat there, leant against you listening to Auston speak.

As that unfolded, the doctor could retake Mia’s temperature and check everything else without interruption.  Once she was done, it was determined that Mia had the flu.

She then explained to you (and Auston, virtually) how the flu was common in toddlers and that Mia should be much better in 24-48 hours. You were given tips on how to treat the flu but were mainly advised to let your daughter rest. That’s all she’d be wanting to do for the next day or so anyway.

The doctor then told you that you had nothing to worry about, and how you did the right thing by taking Mia to see someone, before eventually leaving the room and saying you were good to go and that she’d contact your family doctor about what happened.

“Well, I guess it could have been a lot worse,” you said to Auston as you buckled Mia into her car seat again.

“I know, still sucks a lot, though.”

“You’re telling me, but at least we can go home to bed and not stress too much.”

“True,” he replied. “I can’t wait to give her all the cuddles once I’m back tomorrow.”

“I’m sure she’ll love that,” you stated. “Anyways, babe, I’m gonna have to let you go so I can drive back to the house.”

“Ok, sounds good. Call me as soon as you’re back, please.”

“I will. Love you.”

“And I love you,” he responded. “Bye, babe.”

After that, you hung up the phone and drove home. Once you put Mia to bed, you called Auston again, and he reminded you of how much he loved you, and that the two of you were doing fine as parents. You couldn’t help but agree, knowing that Mia was always going to be ok because you or Auston would make sure of it and not too much later, you were finally able to fall asleep without any more stress.

[bloomvalyria]

I received a request for some sparxshipping, so I thought I’d give you some super old sparxshipping content! Since I’ve been getting so many questions about the whole “where did baltor go at the end of broken pieces?” debacle, I thought I’d share the idea I’d originally settled on back in 2016/2017 before scrapping it. It was a good idea in theory, but the deeper I explored it, everything very quickly fell apart. Nonetheless, please enjoy this scrapped rough draft material!

The room was oddly reminiscent of his pocket realm, slightly easing my tense muscles. It was enormous with a towering ceiling and tall walls lined with grand wooden bookcases. Dust coated the furniture and lightly lilted through the air. A great window overlooking the surrounding woods was perched on the other side of the room. The clear glass allowed an ample amount of moonlight to pour onto the hardwood floors. My gaze however was locked on a different light source flickering in my peripheral vision.

My Dragon Fire flared when I turned to look at the bright orange glow. Despite my distance, I could feel the intensity of the flames dancing in the fireplace. Its warmth combined with the pale moonlight gave the room an eerie yet annoyingly romantic vibe. Two stiff-looking arm chairs loomed before the fire, creating elongated shadows that stretched across the floor.

Easily able to sense the dark presence awaiting my arrival in the seat furthest away, I froze. My feet refused to take another step, petrified at the thought of approaching my host.

You can still turn back, my subconscious hastily whispered. He betrayed you. He lied to you. You owe him nothing.

That last statement prickled me. In spite of everything that had unfortunately transpired between the two of us, I owed everything to him. Without him, I never would have found Oritel and Miriam, nor would I have been able to revive Sparx. Even after our fight on Linphea, he’d still helped me achieve the one thing I’d wanted since discovering who I truly was. I may not have wanted to, but I owed it to him to at least hear him out.

Taking a silent, steadying breath I continued my approach to the ominous chair.

“No one would blame you.”

I nearly lost my footing as a familiar, deep voice echoed through the air. Coming to a halt, I felt the strength of the dark presence grow, fully announcing himself. A shadowy figure of a man lifted itself out of the furthest chair, startling me. He was shrouded in darkness until he stepped closer to the fireplace.

Baltor’s sharp features appeared more prominent in the harsh light of the flames. His piercing grey eyes stared deeply into the burning embers, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if it was on purpose. It was an odd sight to see him without his signature coat. Then again, his entire ensemble was much more relaxed than I was used to seeing. His normally regal attire was replaced with a simple pair of dark trousers and boots, along with a half-buttoned up, white-collared shirt. I had to mentally chide myself in order to stop staring.

“To be frank, I half-expected you not to come.” Baltor continued. He moved his arm up to rest against the mantle, attempting to look nonchalant.

I glowered at him. “I don’t remember inviting you to snoop through my thoughts.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. I hated that it nearly made me swoon. “I don’t need to use our connection to read your thoughts, Bloom. You remember what I told you about your eyes.”

An annoyed frown instantly crossed my face as I fought the shiver that arose from hearing him say my name. Shoving my hands into my coat pockets, my fingernails dug into my palms. Resisting the urge to throw a punch at him, I decided saying nothing was my only good option. I considered testing my luck, but the dull throbbing that had suddenly emerged in the back of my skull greatly discouraged it.

“I’m more than aware that I’m the last person you want to speak with.” he said, redirecting the conversation. “All I ask is that we sit down and discuss this.”

“I’m not sure what else needs to be discussed.” I replied, deadpan. The darkness took over much quicker than I’d anticipated. “You knowingly faked your own death. You didn’t contact me at all for months to let me know that you were really alive. Then, you magically reappeared wanting to pretend everything was okay. And, when I asked you why you waited so long to find me, you fed me nothing but a string of bullshit lies.” I paused, dramatically. “I don’t believe I missed anything.”

My response was enough to finally pull Baltor’s gaze away from the fire. The concern pooling in his eyes made my stomach twist with butterflies. However, the darkness worming its way deeper into my brain fought viciously to counteract it.

“Bloom,” he said, calmly, “I understand that you’re angry with me. You have every right to be.” To my amazement, he took a daring step in my direction. “But I know that’s not you.”

The throbbing slowly began to subside, to my shock. I wasn’t sure what made it retreat, but I wasn’t going to complain. Regardless of how truthful my outburst was, the guilt that followed was immense.

“Sorry,” I uttered. “It’s been a bit out of control lately, what with the move back here.”

He nodded. “Understandable. This is your home, and you want it to feel like your home. Living on Sparx is certainly going to be an adjustment for you.”

“An adjustment is one way to word it.” I mumbled, quickly growing exhausted. Running a hand through my tousled hair, I slumped into the seat next to the one he’d previously occupied. The leather fabric wasn’t particularly comfortable, but I needed a place to sit down. Baltor followed suit.

For a while, we merely sat there, glancing at each other. Neither of us seemed to know what to say. All of the snarky, clever remarks I’d conjured up in my head had vanished. Every emotion I’d felt over the last year was a swirling melting pot in my chest. I had a million questions for him. For so long I’d been deprived of the answers I so desperately desired, and now that my opportunity to receive them had finally arrived, I was speechless.

Baltor shifted forward in his chair, looking as if he was about to break the never-ending silence. My Dragon Fire sprung to life with adrenaline, warning me that I needed to speak before he did. My irrational fear of how well he could redirect a conversation was too strong.

“Where were you?” I blurted, cutting Baltor off.

A sad gleam sprouted in his eyes. Still, he didn’t answer. I could see the cogwheels turning in his mind, scrambling to muster up a convincing excuse to push my question off till another time.

“Where were you?” I asked again, fury dripping into my voice. My fingers dug into the leather of the arm chair, trying to still their shaking.

Baltor ran a hand down his face, immediately seeming more exhausted than before. Hearing the question aloud seemed to drain him. “Bloom, I know it’s not what you want to hear,” he began, hesitantly. “Nevertheless, I do believe that particular question is one we should wait on discussing.”

Steam poured from my ears. My cheeks burned red with pent up rage. “No!” I shouted, unable to contain myself. “We are not pushing this off anymore! I’m not asking you to do something outlandish, Baltor. I just want to know the truth!”

“I want to tell you, Bloom. Trust me, I do.” Baltor argued. “Considering how you almost crossed into dark territory only a few minutes ago, telling you would only be detrimental.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I could already begin to feel the pads of my fingertips rapidly heat up. “How would that be detrimental? That doesn’t make sense!”

“Bloom, I’m serious.” he warned. “You don’t need to know.”

“Oh, come on, Baltor! What is so difficult about being honest with me? Where could you have been that’s so bad that you’d have to lie to me about it?”

“The Under Realm.”

His interruption made my heart skip a beat. My rage instantly diffused, morphing into a state of shock.

The name sent a chill down my spine as it echoed through my head. Flashes of memories presented themselves front and center, reminding of my time spent there. As always, none of them were pleasant ones.

“What?”  

Baltor clearly didn’t want to continue the conversation; however we both knew I wasn’t just going to drop it after that revelation. “When I found out you were alive, I went to the Under Realm,” he affirmed, slowly dragging out his words.

The thoughts racing through my head were a jumbled, cluttered mess. I kept waiting for my instincts to kick in and react like they usually did. Yet, this time, the longer I sat there I only became more confused.

No logical reason for why he’d be in the Under Realm came to mind. I couldn’t think of any unfinished business he could possibly have there. Even if he did, that still didn’t explain why he’d suddenly decide to act on it when I was in recovery.

Maybe you’re overreacting, my hopeful conscience reasoned. He didn’t say which part of the Under Realm. He could’ve been in Downland for all you know.

I was doubtful. If he’d been in Downland, there was no reason for him to hide it from me. Baltor was well aware of my history with the Under Realm, and if he truly went there, he’d only avoid telling me about it if he went to one particular place. “You were in Shadow Haunt.”

A short sigh slipped past his lips, but no words followed.

White hot anger flashed in my chest. “Baltor, were you in Shadow Haunt?” I asked again, my fury slipping into my voice.

“Yes,” he said. “You broke my curse. I’d hoped to return the favor.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed as the complicated puzzle pieces began to finally make sense. “You went there to try and reverse the effects of Darkar’s curse?”

“It was a long shot,” he indirectly confirmed. “Shadow Haunt seemed the perfect place to, at the very least, begin to search for answers. Since that was where the curse originated, I figured there had to be some information lingering there; possibly somewhere in the wreckage of the palace.”

He suddenly went quiet, acting as if he was finished with his tale.  

“I’m guessing you didn’t find anything?” I inferred, feeling a wave of disappointment.

Baltor shook his head. “I searched for days. I didn’t leave a single stone unturned in that damned place, but there wasn’t a single trace that remained.”

My heart sank in my chest. I knew better than to hope for good news, yet something in me still grabbed onto it. I so desperately wanted to be free of her that I couldn’t help but hope.

“Although, I was able to sense someone else’s magic.”

My gaze flew over to him. A mix of fear and hope twisted my insides. “Who else could be there? It was abandoned. The authorities searched every inch of it to make sure no one was hiding.”

“Well, as it turns out, they didn’t do a particularly thorough job.” He hesitated, looking as if he was debating his next words. “One of Darkar’s minions managed to survive the attack.”

The entire universe came to a halt. Bile rose in my throat.

“I believe you called him Avalon.”

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 118: Christmas on the Closed Ward

The walls were the same shade of amber as her eyes. The duvet on the bed was a faded unicorn pattern from her childhood she should have been embarrassed at everyone seeing.

Potter was admiring her poster of The Three Toads he'd landed in front of, grinning in surprise they had at least similar taste in music it seemed.

Regulus was prodding a lava lamp her dad had gifted her, but she couldn't even watch the blue and yellow goo go up and down.

The bedroom was opulent, none of them even landed within arm's reach of each other, Remus noticed gratefully as he quickly brushed at his eyes and was grateful he'd gotten himself together.

The carpet was solid gold, and very fluffy, as Padfoot landed on it with only a huff.

Instead she was gasping, shuddering, and generally falling to pieces as it caught up to her where they'd been trapped. 'You're being ridiculous,' her mind coolly informed her. 'You didn't even flinch when you found this out, why are you crying now?'

Because being told she was insane in this future and not having contact with her son was different than being trapped in that ward like they'd just been! They were out now, she kept telling herself, but it didn't feel like it. They were still trapped in this mess. They couldn't go to their next class and keep whispering or passing notes like there was no world outside the school, or go hunt down Barty Crouch Jr., Bellatrix, Rabastan, and Rodolphus Lestrange right now to cease this from ever being a possibility. Stuck in this limbo, it really hit her she didn't want to be strong anymore. She just wanted to cry.

Had Frank's mother refused to bring Neville there, or brought him every other weekend to people who didn't even recognize him? Which was worse? What of her mother and father? Every detail of that place felt burned into her brain as she once again found herself stuck on the fact it had been Frank's family photos about, had she any family left that hadn't all been killed in some gruesome way, or in the bed next to her?

"Alice, darling, what-" Frank tripped over himself trying to get to her, pulling her tight to his chest as his mind floundered why she'd be having such a severe reaction to Harry Potter's dilemma. Yeah, being possessed by You-Know-Who was awful in its own right, but she'd been the most vehement since the beginning this wasn't a future set in stone for any of them.

He pulled gently until they were sitting on the bed which Lily quickly vacated, having landed on it and studying pictures on the ceiling in surprise before she realized what she was seeing. Alice and a woman who must be her mother, the two in matching dark pigtails and laughing. Alice and a man with her amber eyes trying to lick ice cream from their own noses.

Now she was forced to watch as tears kept falling from her eyes with no clue what had caused it any more than Frank's wild look around for some sort of cause.

"Guess it wouldn't help her to feel better if I said I think her room looks cool," Potter offered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lily wanted to hex him, making a joke at a time like this, but instead she ignored him and went on her other side, trying desperately to think of anything to comfort her like Alice had done for her countless times since this had started.

To her utter surprise though, Alice tried to laugh. She was nuzzling into Frank's side and holding Lily's hand, but actually trying to sniffle back the sobs and look around like she was just noticing it all for the first time like them.

"What happened darling?" He begged, brushing at her short hair desperately as she tried to get herself under control. They'd been stuck in that room the whole time, she'd even been trying to get him to come look at something before they were vanished away. Had there been a cursed object in there that had hurt her?

"I," she hardly wanted to say the words, like leaving him ignorant would be some saving grace. She wouldn't hide this away though, she'd never hid anything from him and she wasn't going to start now. The words caught in her throat regardless of her intentions, she didn't know how to say it. "That room," she tried again, but then she just kept seeing that baby picture of Neville in Augusta Longbottom's arms, like it was the last thing she'd ever seen before she lost her mind, and she couldn't say it.

Frank felt like a miserable friend, let alone boyfriend, he still wasn't getting it.

"Did you want us to leave?" Peter offered quietly. He was by her door, which he'd cracked open to find the rest of her house available.

"If you'd like," she tried to hide the fact she was wiping snot off on her shoulder by passing it off as a shrug. "There's three bathrooms, one down the hall in mum and dad's room, the other across the hall, and the last down under the stairs. You can help yourself to anything you like in the kitchen."

They all trailed out slowly, each wishing they could say something, but though she'd been kind and gentle to all of their troubles, they couldn't think of a word to say back at the moment either. Lily hesitated going last, giving her hand a questioning squeeze, but Alice just held tight back, she could stay of course, she really wasn't trying to hide this.

The lack of the others didn't really help Alice order her thoughts any better, she hadn't a problem speaking this to any of them, but she was still trying to put how to say it in her head in the least brash way possible for several moments as James started reading.

That same chill lodged back into place when she heard the chapter title. Arthur was still in that hospital. Somehow, someway, Harry was going to find her and her husband in there. "Oh Frank," she finally forced it out, she wanted him to hear it from her before then. "I, think- no. We were just on the closed ward, that's why it wouldn't open."

It only took another moment for it to click in him, and he went rigid in shock.

Lily gasped and tried to pull her into a hug, but Frank pulled her to him entirely and whispered, "glory, I, didn't even notice, how, what-"

"I saw, our, I mean, the, things around those beds," her voice died by the end, and she was grateful he didn't ask her to elaborate. She didn't want to keep trying to refer to that place, it would only make it more real.

"Oh Alice," Lily's hands were flitting desperately for any kind of comfort, and settled for patting her on the back. It was always Sev comforting her, he didn't like talking about his problems much at all. "It's not our future, you told me that. This will not be happening to you, either of you!"

"I'm not so sure anymore," she whispered, explaining Percy's room to her.

"That, that doesn't mean," Frank stopped and started as if in physical pain. "What, you think when we're done with Harry's seven years we'll travel through his whole life and be stuck in here forever? Or that we'll go back to school and lose all memory of this? I, no, I cannot believe, this has to mean something!"

"I'm so sorry," Lily whispered in horror. "This is all my fault, I've never forgotten that fact, but I'll, I'll do anything to fix this. We have to end up back in that Potions room eventually, and I'll, I'll fix this, I swear!"

"Lily no," Alice said at once, finally almost wriggling free of Frank as she turned to face her, though he still had his hands on her hips. "I don't blame you, nobody does! It was a stupid accident, it happens in a magical school."

At least Alice finally seemed to feel a smidge better as she smiled at the two, hugging them both firmly before getting up and heading towards her closet and determinedly brushing the last of the tears from her eyes. She certainly was going to take this time to get out of her days-old clothes.

Frank watched her go with a fire lodged in his chest. He would stop this from happening to her, no matter what.

Lily sighed and brushed at her hair as she thought it all over again anyways. She knew she could remake her half of the potion without a problem, it was Lupin's part that would be the experimental phase. It's what her and Sev had spent so much of their free time doing, but these past two months it was practically all they could stand to do together without arguing. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably as she wondered if she'd just make it worse by trying something again, she seemed to have that effect on everything.

Padfoot went limping out of the room last, and had to crane his neck all the way up to see Remus and James thanking Peter for something, both things a spectacle in themselves. Remus held his hand out and took whatever from him, and the other two went down the stairs while Moony tapped him on the nose. Regulus hesitated at the top of the landing, but didn't follow them in as Remus closed the door.

"Come in here you," he whispered gently, going to the door across. The bathroom was apparently under some kind of remodeling. The floor was solid concrete, but the double sink was marble white and had shiny new taps in place that must not have ever been used and more counter space than really should have been necessary. The multipurpose shower bath steam cubicle was sectioned off by a tempered glass door and looked big enough all eight of them could have fit in there as another squashed space.

Remus closed the toilet lid and patted it expectantly, but when Padfoot just looked at him, he quietly asked, "like some help?"

Every last dignity in him wanted to snap no, but really he'd only hesitated because he had no idea what Moony was up to. Lingering worry for him back at the hospital had been the only thing getting him this far in rather than going downstairs for food. He looked perfectly normal, but there was still an aura of guilt surrounding him. He played along if Remus wanted to finally put all that Madam Pomfrey fussing to his own use and check his wounds, which he assumed was going on here. He didn't like his chances much under the fur.

He went over, and made the small hop up, rather glad he wasn't human for how badly that burned his muscles like new and clenching his jaw instead to hide a whimper. Remus's gentle fingers went carding through his fur, but he'd guessed right, he was barely getting down to the skin, let alone getting a good look at the new scars he'd have.

He sighed in defeat and pocketed a little jar, but before he could jump down, Remus got down on his knees so they were on eye level, and held his head carefully like he was made of spun glass. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, and Padfoot was stunned to see tears in his eyes.

Sirius almost broke his promise to James. He would not let Remus beat himself up over this, it had been his decision! Remus would hate himself though, possibly even dangerously so, if he killed them any more than he'd almost done to Longbottom or even Snape. Comforting Remus like this was also the most perfect answer, so he instead leaned forward and used the side of his long snout to nudge against the back of Remus's head, pressing him into his chest. He couldn't actually hold him, but it should have been all that was needed regardless. They'd known full well what they were getting into when they became Animagi, and he didn't regret a single second of it.

Moony's arms came up and circled him tight, and Padfoot hummed in pleasure and let his tail wag just for show, getting the slightest chuckle out of him.

James reading the book didn't even make them spring guiltily apart this time, Remus's hands stayed in tight fists in his thick fur until his breaths finally evened back out to normal, but as Harry's fear ramped up to paranoid levels and he started taking advice from Phineas Nigellus of all paintings, the two finally eased off of each other and went to go check on him, Sirius didn't even lick his neck just to gross him out.

They went down the stairs to see their friend being plenty distracted though, Peter was trying in vain to stop the two dark haired boys lopping bits of their own skin off as they investigated a potato peeler.

"-I'm impressed they've even got this here," Peter was saying as he showed them properly again.

"We'll have to ask her," James agreed, alternatively reading a sentence and attempting this, and scraping against his thumb again. He cursed and dropped the whole spud in the trashcan amongst his half-peeled, now blood flecked flesh.

"I swear you and Padfoot share a brain cell," Remus sighed as he went over to show him again. "You're going to be out of fingers before we're done with this."

The injured digits from his long-ago electrical burn were not as faded as they would have liked, though everyone else's injuries had mostly gone with time. He wondered if it was the electrical component to the injury that stopped it healing amongst the several healing charms they'd used on themselves by now.

Padfoot barked in protest while James shared a sad grin with him. He was already missing his idiot brother's stupid commentary, though perhaps it was best he couldn't show his face during the bit where Harry had to be pulled out of his depression by his friends rather than his godfather even noticing, that stung all of them quite a lot. This future version of Sirius seemed so cold in comparison to his brother, he'd only ever seen Sirius that distant when they'd been arguing, he couldn't imagine why he was acting this way towards Harry. He turned quickly back towards the book, they had no answer except this one regardless.

By the time the other three came down the stairs, detailed Christmas presents were being given, and Peter had finished prepping enough sandwiches for several more stops.

"Alright Prongs, I'm done, stop trying to lacerate yourself already," he called, but when he didn't come over to place the preservation charms on them to keep them good while he wrapped up the last one, he glanced up to see Evans had once again caught his eye.

She must be wearing some of Alice's things, the redhead was much taller than her so her midriff showed in the silver top she wore and the billowing green skirt still showed a bit of her ankles.

"Hey Alice, why do you have a potato peeler?" Remus asked. She had on new clothes too, a wooly beige jumper and sweatpants.

"My dad works in the Muggle-Worthy Excuse committee," she shrugged, "he can't say it's a foolproof excuse if he doesn't test out a few theories himself. He remodels the house all the time for different scenarios, and we've a bunch of Muggle stuff hanging around, though not as much as Arthur I'm sure."

"How'd giving Sirius that stuff go?" Regulus directed at Lupin. Peter had told him that's what they were still upstairs doing, but he'd been so fascinated by the little whirly device he hadn't even seen them come in.

"Fur's too thick, just like his head, can't get the stuff on," Remus sighed.

Padfoot huffed in indignation, and they all looked down as they wondered just how much of an earful they were going to get from him when he finally changed back.

Remus just smiled in anticipation of that and turned to smack Prongs. He reluctantly dragged his eyes away as Evans went over to Peter and offered to do the Charm, it really was his weakest class so he let her without protest.

When Hermione announced who her last present was for, they were all very familiar with that rumbling growl from the grim-looking dog, and when they got down to Kreacher's room, and his shrine, there was a nasty silence even he couldn't drown out.

Regulus winced, wishing he could hide his house-elf behind him. Kreacher didn't know any better, just like he hadn't when all this started. His servant had been his only friend in that place these last three years while Sirius had been at school and ignoring him at home, surely if he just explained to his elf things had to change he'd go along with it, and burn those particular artifacts.

He took an uneasy breath, and stopped Potter as he shook himself and tried to keep going.

"I'm sorry for him, I won't let him keep those," he told them both sincerely.

Frank didn't seem sure how to respond to that other than smiling awkwardly and trying to wave Potter on, the less they dwelled on it the better, but he went to go sit at the table with the lot of them to prove there were no hard feelings. Alice sat on his lap and reached over to give the kid's arm a squeeze in thanks, quickly drawing her hand back so he wouldn't notice it shaking as the lot made another trip up to the hospital.

She swallowed painfully and sat back against Frank's chest as it all started not a page later. Arthur tried some Muggle experimental way to heal himself, and the kids all bolted from Molly's shouting. They got turned around, and ran into Lockhart.

Even Lily burst out in surprised, and a tad righteous laughter as they all thought this was great fun and payback, but Frank's skin was already turning sallow and Alice was half-tempted to excuse them back up to her room so they wouldn't have to see the others' faces when they realized.

They were delayed as James sat gazing at her long after her laughter had subsided and she rolled her eyes at him, she'd been hoping the Slytherin colors would at least minorly deter him. Then she shot Alice a stern look, trying to tell her he was always like this and it didn't mean anything, but really caught sight of them.

Alice denied herself the getaway as she glanced at them, and the fear that flashed in her green eyes said she'd already put it together. They couldn't leave now, the last thing either of them wanted was this group whispering pitifully about them and dragging this out further.

She couldn't bring herself to offer to take the book though as the trio and Ginny reluctantly followed their old DADA teacher in, and the recant of a much more lively version of the place they'd waste away in was described. A part of her wanted to do it to make this go faster, pretend she couldn't feel any pitying gazes she knew would be coming, but again the words jammed up in here before she had the chance.

Frank wasn't doing much better as the truth slowly sunk into the rest of them. To Potter's credit, he only hesitated a moment before glancing at them and putting together what must have been going on when they'd been alone. When both just nodded, he plowed on in the same diligent way he had been reading through his own son's life that he cared for so much, a soft, but steady determination.

This was not the future any of them would have chosen, but James still wanted it all to be true on just the smallest level, that he and Lily were destined to have Harry at the same time as Alice and Frank would have Neville. They'd go forward remembering every heinous detail, and fix every one of them. Their boys would grow up happy and never knowing what had almost been.

[aty-altiria]

Very ‘Oops’

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

Word count: 1440

Universe: Harry Potter, Twilight

Pairings: Fem!Harry/ Jasper Hale(Whitlock, Cullen...)

Themes: Mugging, character death (random background character) blood and gore and vampireness 

Summary: It’s not the first time he’s snapped and fed on a human. But it is the first time he’s thanked for doing so. Jasper would suppose that was because he’d eaten a mugger and had been thanked before chowing down on the bloodied victim. But in his defense, Holly Potter is rather distracting.

@whumptober2020

Never written one of this in my LIFE, but that’s where I’m at currently.

----

Jasper didn't look at the girl; he tried not to think about her at all, in fact. Not with the lingering emotions from the man still burning at his veins, not with the taste of blood, finally on his lips, distracting him so firmly. Not as he sucked and sucked, as he drained every last drop from the human- gods, it was so good. He could drown in the taste, could abandon everything for a fix- he wanted- more- more- the lust of it-

The man, his greed, his disgusting desire, his lust it had been painfully mixed with the woman's exasperation? She'd been so frightened that Jasper had just acted. He'd just moved in response to her emotions. He'd ripped the man from her, likely caused a large chunk of her hair to pulled out from the force of it. Jasper's claws had dug into the man's body, had breached the skin causing blood to well up- and he'd been lost. Blood. Think, fresh, and so readily available. The years of resistance he'd put in had been destroyed in a split-second decision.

Jasper dropped the man drained over every last drop, and he passed a short thought for the fact that he'd have to dispose of the body before he let his head drop back. Guilt would come later. Horror at his actions would return. But that moment, for that one split second, he was so wonderfully sated. He was full for once in the last decade, and he'd saved a life- Jasper should be proud- and the last dregs of the man's emotions finally slipped away. The lust, the desire, the pleasure of a mugging and murder was wiped out, leaving only Jasper and her- what would she be feeling? Would the horror sink in now?

He turned, eyes glowing bloody orange as red mixed with yellow and finally looked at the woman.

Jasper memorized her appearance; he couldn't stop himself from doing it. His mind automatically took in the entire scene in high definition. The size of her pupils, the man's blood on her shoulder, the rip in her shirt, the hair pulled out. He memorized it all, even though he was sure he'd kill her now. That he eat and eat and eat- she'd be his second victim, her black mess of hair that was half frizz and half curls, her green eyes- so very human- her emotions- relieved and safe-

What?

Jasper tilted his head, too quickly to be human, and she didn't flinch at the motion. She was simply, passively, waiting for him to finish his meal. Her emotions calm, relieved, and a little bit awed- what?!

"Thank you," she bowed her body, kept eye-contact the entire time, and straightened. She spoke only when Jasper was finished when his attention had returned to her. "Thank you for saving me." Jasper blinked, a purposeful action to admit his confusion, but she seemed unaware of it. "I know you probably have someone to clean up, but I can banish the body if you'd like? To save time?"

The relief never fled her, though it did calm as she shot the body a disgusted look. But- it wasn't revulsion, she wasn't disgusted with him, she was only mildly bothered by the body itself as any human should be. But she wasn't nearly as concerned as Jasper was expecting, not nearly as horrified as any human would ought to be. Yes, she'd been dangerously close to being killed when he'd jumped in and- wait- hadn't her clothes been ripped? They weren't any longer; her dress had been since fixed to an oddly new degree. Actually, she was oddly pristine now, her hair impeccable, her clothes spotless, even the hair that had been yanked free had been fixed. How had she done that?? When had she done that?

"So?" she turned back to him, waiting for an answer.

"Go ahead, ma'am," he only said it out of curiosity even as a massive part of his mind was still cataloging her appearance. Then Jasper sucked in a sharp unneeded breath as she pulled out a stick and waved it at the man, who vanished from Jasper's very sight. Not only that, but any trace of blood was likewise scrubbed clean by a secondary flick. In an instant, it was like they'd never been there, and Jasper's mind clicked.

Witch.

Carlisle had mentioned them before, had lived in their communities in the past. Magical communities were one of the few places that vampires could walk freely in the sun without being instantly targeted, or well, they used to. Magical creatures were now being prosecuted quite heavily in most magical communities, and so vampires avoided their areas in reverse. Because in a battle between witch and vampire, Carlisle wasn't confident the vampire would win.

Still, what were the chances Jasper would meet a witch in Seattle? It was unlikely; there were no magical communities anywhere near the city. And to be frank, this was the first witch he'd ever met - though Carlisle did believe Alice used to be one before she'd been turned.

"So… err… thanks?" the woman repeated. Jasper nodded, still reeling and… not in the slightest bit hungry, he wasn't tempted by her beating heart at all- because she didn't-

"You have no heartbeat," he blurted out.

"Ah," she blushed a bit sheepish, "Yeah, I know. I'm sort of… undead, kinda?" she rubbed the back of her head, which was human, blinked and breathed like she was human. But the organ within her chest was utterly silent.

"' Kinda undead?'" Jasper asked, allowing himself to relax slightly. He'd killed someone- that guilt would come later- but- the man had deserved it, and he'd saved this woman with his action. That and… her emotions were positively intoxicating, she felt so strongly. She was so very relieved, so calm that Jasper couldn't help but follow suit.

"I might have found a set of items that made me the master of death, so, now I can't die." Her face pinched, and darker emotions rolled. Jasper didn't need to ask to follow her train of thought either. Sometimes there were things worse than death. "Anyway, yeah… immortal, so no heartbeat, which sort of really freaks out any potential boyfriends, that sucks…" She blushed deeper despite having no heartbeat, "can't believe I just said that, nope, I'm leaving. Thanks again- bye!"

Jasper watched her take a step, watched the wince slowly form on her face, and then he was in her space. He caught her arm with ease and tried not to watch the impossible blush race further up her cheeks. "Please, allow me to walk you home, ma'am,"

"I can just apparate…"

"Not sure what that is," he really didn't; magic was not something he'd looked deeply into…though perhaps he should have, "but allow me this kindness? I would like to see you home safe."

"It's a hotel," she muttered, the volume was well within his ability to hear it though, "but fine, I guess… but you may have to carry me."

"Now that isn't an imposition," and oddly, it truly wasn't. Despite her proximity, Jasper wasn't the slightest bit tempted to bite her, which was endlessly relieving. So with permission, Jasper scooped the woman off her feet and started off. "Which way?"

She pointed as Jasper set off at a relatively slow walk, considering how fast he could move. Funny that. He didn't want to let her go at all, didn't want to part too early from her. "I didn't catch your name."

"Holly,"

He felt himself smile, basked in her emotions, the attraction and joy she was giving off despite how disastrous her night might have ended. Drowning in her emotions, Jasper couldn't resist adding in a sultry tone: "Just going to point out, in my case, the lack of heartbeat is not a turn-off."

Embarrassment, attraction, and intrigue.

Jasper's smile widened.

"Trust me, Jazz, you want to be in Seattle tonight."

"Are you going to tell him he's going to meet his mate?"

"Not yet; he won't be as open-minded if I do. No, I'll wait until he gets back… oh, but Edward! You'll love her! She's going to be the best sister!"

[dandy-writes]

Crowley x Reader - Chapter Seven

Chapter Six

AN: Quick content warning, this chapter contains descriptions of canon-typical violence and bloodshed!

Y/N tapped their foot nervously, glancing around the dimly lit forest. They had spent the past few days with Sam and Dean in a cheap motel in Jetmore, Kansas, not terribly far from the bunker. After getting news of some woodland murders in the area with the M.O. of your typical vengeful spirit, the boys had decided that it was time for Y/N to learn the basics of hunting. As such, they had tagged along with the so-called Agents Guldemond and Loewen, posing themselves as one Agent Parkin, and the three had traipsed around the town in search of clues. After a visit to the local library, it didn’t take long for Y/N to discover details on a man who disappeared in the woods several generations back and whose general description matched the witness statements they had taken just earlier that day -- long-haired, wizened, and known to be a troublemaker. Soon enough the hunters found themselves out in the forest in search of an unmarked grave or otherwise hidden skeleton, with no light to aid them but their own flashlights and the occasional glimmer of moonlight from behind the thick cloud cover which lay across the sky. 

And that was where Y/N stood, having walked around for what felt like hours with the boys and to no avail. The woods were expansive, and together they weren’t covering ground all too quickly. After a short discussion, it was decided that they’d split up; Dean going west and Sam and Y/N going east. Needless to say, Y/N was more on edge than they’d been in a long time. More than once that night they’d jumped at the simple hooting of an owl. These nerves are what they decided to chalk up the feeling that something wasn’t right to, that there was something in the woods that was more than just a cranky old ghost.

Taking a moment’s pause from sweeping their flashlight over the ground in front of them, Y/N checked the time on their phone. “2:21” shone up at them from the screen, causing them to let out a sigh of frustration. They never did understand how Sam and Dean could stand all of the late nights -- or technically speaking, early mornings -- that hunting required.

Just as they slipped the phone back into their pocket, a shout came from somewhere in the forest behind them. Y/N and Sam turned in tandem, pointing their lights the way they had come.

“Dean,” Sam breathed. “He must be in trouble. Probably found the bones, and now the ghost’s pissed.” He started forwards, then stopped and looked at Y/N. “You, uh -- you just stay a little ways behind me, alright? Let me go on ahead. Don’t want you getting hurt.”

“But you brought me along to…” They trailed off as Sam ran back through the woods, not seeming to hear their protests. “Help.” They finished, more to themselves than to Sam. Sighing heavily, they began to trudge after him. However, after just a few steps Y/N stopped dead in their tracks. They cocked their head slightly, listening intently. The sounds of forest nightlife had entirely faded away; gone were the peeper frogs, the buzz of insects, the call of nocturnal birds. Everything was just… silent.

That was, until there came the crashing of something running through the trees towards them.

~ ~ ~

“Hello, boys?” Crowley called as he slowly walked through the bunker’s library. “Kitten?” He paused, stopping to swivel on his heels slightly. “Anyone?”

Getting no response but the echo of his own voice, he let out a small exasperated breath and looked over the newspapers sprawled out across the room’s largest table. He furrowed his brow as he scanned the article circled in black sharpie, which described a series of disappearances. While normally Crowley couldn’t stand the state of disarray he so often found the bunker in, he had to admit that sometimes it did work to his advantage. Smiling to himself, he disappeared.

It was surprisingly easy to locate the motel room where the hunters were staying -- but then again, a small troop of FBI agents couldn’t be expected to be exactly the most inconspicuous group. Once he had gotten their room number from the receptionist and removed himself from immediate sight, Crowley teleported himself inside. As per usual, the decor was far from lavish, but it seemed a little larger than their usual accommodations. Taking in the three duffel bags arranged about the room, he quickly realized that it was because they had a third member.

Not just any third member, no. A mix of interest and concern growing within him, the demon’s eyes alighted upon an open notebook resting atop one of the unmade beds. It was undoubtedly Y/N’s handwriting. He quickly made his way over to it and skimmed over the information written there. In the hunter’s usual style of note-taking, the facts were laid out in a large block, accompanied by a shorter, more personal note. Crowley’s worry only heightened as he took in the details of the case and Y/N’s expressed feeling of unease with the conclusion the hunters had ended up coming to. 

“Bollocks,” He muttered. Hesitating for only a moment in order to mentally locate the forest which the entry stated they’d be going to, Crowley vanished.

~ ~ ~

The creature before Y/N fit the description, alright. He appeared to be a tall, albeit unnaturally hairy old man; however, he moved like a wild animal. With every loping step he took towards them, they had to scurry several more away from him, and even then they didn’t seem fast enough. In an attempt to turn and sprint away, Y/N felt their ankle catch on a root protruding from the forest floor. They landed on their back with a heavy thud.

He was so close, now, that they could see the spittle in his greenish beard.

The man -- no, the thing -- leant over them, taking only a second to rake his dull eyes over their small, frightened form before gripping them harshly on their upper arm. Without realizing it, Y/N had started screaming, but they were quickly silenced by his other hand, which wrapped itself around their mouth. His incredibly rough skin felt and smelled like bark.

As he began to drag them through the undergrowth, a sudden spike of fear and adrenaline shot through Y/N, prompting them to kick up at him. With a mix between a groan and a scream the creature momentarily loosened its grip on them, allowing them a moment to frantically scramble away from him. However, this small victory was short-lived, and as soon as he had regained his balance he ran at them. Long, claw-like fingernails tore into their shoulder as he turned them once more onto their back.

Y/N let out a strangled shriek as nails tore through their t-shirt and into their abdomen, blood bubbling up through the lacerated flesh. They squeezed their eyes shut as their cry was once more stifled by his sweaty palm. They could feel his hot breath on their face, the stench of rotten meat filling their nostrils. In a moment of wild clarity, Y/N thought to themselves: I am about to die.

But just when they were sure that the final, fatal blow would come raining down upon them, an altogether different sensation overcame them; the feeling of a weight being ripped off of their body. There was no sound to accompany this action. Just a sudden loss.

It was so unexpected, Y/N didn’t even open their eyes until a hand came down to grip their shoulder. With a quiet yelp they jerked away in pain, eyes fluttering open as they did so.

“Hey, shh,” Came a calming voice. It took a moment for Y/N to register the fact that Crowley was kneeling beside them, looking down at them worriedly. “It’s alright, darling. I’ve got you.”

“He--” Y/N began, voice weak.

“He’s gone. I dealt with him,” Crowley quickly reassured them, gaze flicking down at their stomach before returning to their face. “I’m going to take you home, alright?”

“The boys,” They persisted.

“They do this sort of thing for a living, I’m sure they can handle themselves,” He replied, breaking eye contact as he maneuvered his hands under their limp body. He stopped when their hand came up to grasp at his tie, forcing him to return their gaze.

“They’re in danger.”

For a second, he said nothing. Then, he let out a breath and raised his brows a little. “If you insist. You’ll have to stand, though.”

Y/N simply nodded, letting him help them their feet. For a moment, they nearly slipped and came crashing down again, but strong arms quickly wrapped around Y/N’s back and pulled them to Crowley’s side. They didn’t protest, leaning heavily into his chest. For an instant they felt everything shift around the two of them, letting their eyelids fall shut with the sudden wave of nausea that accompanied the movement.

They quickly found that, even with the added support of Crowley’s body, the searing pain in their shoulder and, more prominently, their midriff, made it hard to focus on what was going on around them. Y/N was only somewhat aware of Crowley snapping his fingers and ending the life of another of the strange creatures, which had been attacking Sam and Dean. Only through the rumbling of his chest did they realize that he was having a conversation with the two men, and only by one of Dean’s comments causing his grip on their body to tighten that the hunters weren’t happy with his presence. However, the discussion quickly left Y/N’s mind as their wound began to throb.

“Crowley,” They whimpered, barely loud enough for him to hear. The demon looked down at them, and, after delivering a curt good-bye to the boys, the world once more shifted around them.

[mymelodyheart]

Highland Destiny Chapter 3 ~The Meeting~

James Fraser knew he was doomed when he realised he couldn't shake off the image of the Sassenach. What he thought of as a fleeting attraction had become an obsession that plagued his dreams and waking life.  He couldn't stop thinking about her. It's as if when their eyes locked for a brief moment, the stars aligned only to be scrambled again like some cruel joke. Jamie knew it was no longer a matter of choice - he had to find her.

It was a baffling notion that she could simply vanish from the face of the earth without a trace. He made enquiries in and around Inverness and not one of his contacts, emergency institutions nor were any of his friends were able to assist. His last hope in finding the elusive English woman was Mother Hildegarde from St. Agnes, and he planned to visit her later in the hospital. Surely she would know something considering the mystery woman was sleeping under her roof. 

Christ Sassenach, where are ye??

..........

It was early Monday morning, and Jamie was jogging back to the distillery. He sprinted the last half-mile in the hope that the exertion would diminish the frustration he was feeling. By the time he reached Frisealach Compound, he had worked up quite a sweat and his secretary, Laoghaire MacKenzie was waiting with a towel in her hand as he came through the door.

"Good morning to ye Jamie, enjoyed yer run?" He was greeted by a beautiful, blonde girl with too much make-up on and a dazzling smile. "I was watching ye from the window running like a mad-man, so I ken ye'd be here soon. I took the towel from your sports bag. Did ye spend the night in the office?" She approached Jamie purposely.

"Aye, and thank ye." Not offering any further explanations, he ignored the seductive look from his secretary and took the towel from her. "Don't ye have anything better to do?" Jamie asked, mildly annoyed and slightly out of breath from running all the way to the fifth floor.  

Disregarding the hint of sarcasm, Laoghaire smiled sweetly, "You have some messages, and I left them on your desk. Also, Murtagh called to remind you about the general meeting at 10 today." She reached out to Jamie for the towel. "Here, let me dry your back... ye're soaking."

"That'll be it Laoghaire, thank you." Ignoring her antics, he quickly made his way to his office, shutting the door firmly. 

Christ, I need to do something about that woman! 

Jamie quickly made a few business calls and arrangements with the bank to donate £50,000 towards the St. Agnes Orphanage's restoration. Next, he grabbed his sports bag and keys and headed back out again. 

"See you later. I'm going home to change, and then I'll be at the station for the rest of the morning. Anything important just passed it on to Rupert." 

Before Laoghaire could utter a word or react, Jamie was gone.

..........

Claire's first weekend in Inverness started off with a bang, literally. She belatedly discovered that the fire was caused by an exploding furnace. Fortunately, there were no fatalities, and everyone in the orphanage that night made it to safety.

Following the events of that Friday night, Claire made a new friend in the form of Tom Christie, the junior doctor from the paramedic team. She learned that he was employed at the Royal Northern Infirmary, where Joe had taken his residency job. With nowhere else to go after the fire, Tom helped her locate Uncle Lamb's cottage and carried her suitcases into her new home. She was thankful that only a handful of her possessions perished in the blaze as most of her belongings remained in the car when she arrived at St. Agnes. 

Claire spent the next two days unpacking, shopping, catching up with her best friend, Joe and visiting Mother Hildegarde in the hospital. Likewise, she visited some of the orphans and nuns injured in the fire. Worried about their plight, she was reassured by a nurse that the orphans were rehomed temporarily across the Highlands until St. Agnes is restored. This was comforting news! 

The remainder of her Sunday was spent at home unwinding and was pleasantly surprised when Tom popped in for a quick visit bearing a bunch of flowers and a basket of preserves from his sister's shop.

"Ach, it's nothing. Just a wee house warming gift and my way of saying thank ye for helping the other night," Tom explained, after giving Claire a quick awkward hug.

What a sweet gesture, Claire later thought as she got ready for bed. With that in mind, she dozed off, feeling confident that all will be well. And that night she dreamt of Frank whispering to her, "Yes darling, all will definitely be well. Hush now and sleep."

..........

Monday morning, Claire got up early to get a good head start at work. She had been previously instructed by a Mrs Henderson to come before 10 am in time for a joint general meeting between Scottish Ambulance Service and the Inverness Fire Department. Mr Fitzgibbons, the Head Fire Officer, wanted her to meet the whole team, including the volunteers with whom she will be working closely with in the future.

"Easy day on Monday Ms Beauchamp. I'm tae inform ye that yer first day will be familiarising yersel' with your surroundings and colleagues unless of course, we have some emergency. Yer official first day of work will be Wednesday when Mr McCoy goes on holiday so that will give ye plenty of time to organise yersel'," A woman explained over the phone. 

That's no brain surgery! Pretty straight-forward enough, Claire thought. 

But Monday didn't turn out to be as straight-forward. First, Claire's unruly locks refused to cooperate, so she tied it in the messy bun. Then her car keys were misplaced and spent 15 minutes looking for them. Then halfway to the Fire Station, her car over-heated and had to wait for roadside assistance to take it away for repair. Luckily enough, Tom was driving by and happily gave her a lift to the station before heading for work.

Claire arrived at 9:55 am to be exact. She thanked Tom and hurriedly made her way through the station. To her dismay, Claire realised the meeting had started. She followed the sound of the voice, addressing a room, and it led her to the back of the building. 

Right at the very end of the corridor, Claire saw an open door and peeked through. There were approximately 30 men assembled around the tables arranged in U-shape. At the head of the gathering, was a brown-haired man with a thick beard, doing a roll call. She surmised that it must be Mr Fitzgibbons.

Before stepping in, Claire checked her attire: everyday blue jeans, a white shirt, black leather jacket and white sneakers. She smoothed her hair and realised not much can be done. That will have to do Beauchamp... nothing fancy, just like one of the guys.

"Beauchamp!" the voice called out. The men in the room glanced around to determine who Beauchamp was. No answer. Meanwhile, Claire was unaware her name was called. She was too preoccupied smoothing her curly locks as she stood out of view from behind the door.

"Beauchamp, are ye here?!" the voice called out for the second time, this time almost shouting.

Claire finally heard her name called. Come on Beauchamp you can do this! She took big deep breaths and stepped into the room. "I'm right here," she announced loudly if not a bit croaky.

Almost all the men gave a start, chairs making squeaking and screeching sounds caused by a sudden movement of turning when a feminine voice answered.   Sweet Mother of Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!   There was a long silence, and a wide-eyed Claire stood frozen on the spot as she absorbed the room's shocked countenance. Appreciative stares, wolf-whistles and "oooohhhs-and-aaaahhhs" ensued after what seems like an eternity of speechlessness much to Claire's disconcertion. She wanted to back away out through the door and run.

"Hey Hugh, is the lady my belated stag-do pressie?" a voice shouted from the back. The room howled with laughter. Cor blimey, we have a jester in the house...just absolutely fucking great!

Ignoring the comic and the boisterous reaction, Claire gathered as much bravado she can muster and took a few more deep breaths. Aware every eye in the room was on her, she squared her shoulders and spoke, "Good morning, everyone, I'm Claire Beauchamp." Clearing her throat, she continued, "I'm terribly sorry that I'm late...my car broke down on my way here." 

The room calmed down when she spoke, and there were shuffles and murmurs, as the men turned to listen. Thereupon, a man with the beard walked over to her and extended his hand. "Hello Claire, I'm Murtagh Fitzgibbons. Call me, Murtagh. And, erm, welcome to Inverness and welcome to our team." His arms made an extensive motion to the room.

Claire took the extended hand, but before she could say a word, Murtagh, said, "Take a seat." Awkward! 

Somewhat still flustered and annoyed, Claire looked around for an empty chair. In her peripheral vision, a very tall man with auburn hair stood up and pulled out a seat next to him. "Hey Claire, over here," Ginger gestured to the vacancy next to him with sweeping arms. She spun in his direction and glanced up. Her gaze locked with a very amused pair of familiar, blue eyes.  Oh my stars and garters, it's the bloody Scot!

Reluctantly, Claire made her way to the offered seat and nodded. "Thank you!" She flashed a vain effort of her best smile, hoping to conceal her agitations.  

Before Claire could sit, suddenly, Ginger's hand extended towards her. "Hello, Sassenach! I'm James Fraser, or ye can call me Jamie if ye wish." Ah, Ginger has a name!  She peered up at the grinning face. "Listen, lass, dinna mind these loons - they may look scary, but truly, we're all a friendly bunch here," Jamie explained in the way of an apology, loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Standing next to Jamie, Claire felt petite with her 5'7 height.  Her eyes were almost at the same level as the hollow base of his throat. Up close, she couldn't help but be very aware of the broad expanse of his shoulders as her gaze involuntarily drifted to his collarbones and, damn,  he smelled like he just came out of the shower. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to him like a second skin and stretched precariously tight across his well-muscled chest. Avoiding his gaze, Claire quickly shook his hand, but as their hands touched, she felt an electric jolt bolt through her body in waves and swirls. Attempting to ignore the unsettling sensations, she responded, "Hi, nice to meet you too." Then she glanced up and saw Jamie staring too intently for her own comfort.

"Oy Fraser, smooth move" one of the men shouted, making Claire snap out from her reverie. The whole room erupted in laughter. Oh, crikey, here we go again!

"Aye, ye can learn a thing or two on how to be a gentleman," Jamie countered back laughing and threw a crushed paper at the direction of the joker.

Another joined in the teasing, "Gentleman my arse! The Frasers are just tae quick when it comes to pretty lasses. Ye're yer father's son, Jamie lad. My da tol' me how yer da, Brian stole the Mckenzie lass right under my uncle's nose!"

Everyone roared with laughter, and even the dour-looking Murtagh found the outburst hilarious. More banter and hilarity ensued.

Grateful for the distraction, Claire hurriedly sat down. She said "Thank you," again to Jamie and felt rather stupid for doing so. She lowered her head to hide the heat creeping up her face, as she busied herself, arranging her satchel on the table and taking out a pen and notepad.

"Right, that's enough. Everyone wheesht! So, are we all quite done here yet?" Murtagh hollered, "If so, let's get on with it. Aye?" Although the laughter ceased, you can still hear a few sniggering here and there. 

Calm restored, Murtagh proceeded with the meeting. Drawing his attention again!  back to Claire, much to her dismay, he asked, "Right, Beauchamp, which one is it officially, Randall or Beauchamp? I have several papers here with two different names."

Claire's face turned crimson. "It's Beauchamp. Randall is my late husband's name. Oh and by the way, just call me Claire."

Jamie nudged her arms lightly with his elbow, and he whispered with a cocked eyebrow, "Sorcha!" followed by a feeble attempt at a wink. Claire frowned, not understanding and she mouthed Shush at Jamie. 

"Verra weel, Claire Beauchamp it is. Or simply Claire" Murtagh declared. Flipping through more papers, Murtagh added, "Oh hang on a minute, I omitted to inform ye lads. It's actually Dr Beauchamp. She is joining the paramedic team for a year while she is on sabbatical. And if I were ye, ye better be in yer best behaviour. I hear Dr Beauchamp is quite handy with the scalpel, her being a neurosurgeon and all."

That revelation was followed by laughter, impressed nods, Jamie patting her hand, and more wolf whistles, much to Claire's chagrin. All she could do in response was offer a weak smile and shrug.

Murtagh smiled at her and continued, "Moving along..." Oh, sour-face can smile after all!

Even though the proceedings had moved on to other matters, Claire had difficulty focusing. She couldn't decide whether to blame it on Jamie's closeness or on the boisterous banter from earlier. Her concentration was further disrupted as Jamie scooted closer, his knees brushing against hers. He tapped her on the elbow with a pen and whispered, "Hey Sassenach, so ye're a Neurosurgeon, eh?"

She nodded, her eyes fixed on Murtagh. Jamie clearing his throat, spoke again in a low voice. "Hey Sassenach, did ye recognise me from Friday night...ye ken, the fire at St. Agnes? 'Twas me who carried ye out when ye fainted."

Claire quickly glanced sideways to say something but got diverted at the sight of bulging muscles of his forearm as he leaned close, both elbows pitched on the table. The view made her mind wander afresh to imagining how Jamie would look like without his shirt. The thought made her swallow a lump forming in her throat. Catching herself, she shook her head, as if the mere act of doing so would dismiss all silly thoughts. Determined more than ever, Claire redoubled her effort to solely focus on Murtagh.

Unperturbed by her lack of response, Jamie nudged her knees with his. "Well?" he urged." Did ye or did ye not?"

"Shush ..." She gave Jamie a warning look and feigned annoyance, but to no avail. It only made him scoot his chair closer until both their arms were grazing. 

Claire realised Jamie wasn't about to give up. So she looked at him with the sternest expression she can muster, pointed a pen towards Murtagh and mouthed to him, Later ok? Eventually, he conceded and acknowledged with a nod. Relieved, Claire mouthed thank you and was rewarded with the most beautiful smile she's ever seen upon any man's face. Oh, sweet Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, the man's bloody gorgeous. Defeated, Claire gave in to this renewed distraction and daydreamed leaning forward to kiss the indentation on Jamie's chin.

The meeting lasted for two hours, and the only thing Claire could think of was her growing attraction towards Jamie. And little did she know, he was in the same predicament.

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Lunacy Fringe (Chapter 2)

Title is once again inspired by a song. Lunacy Fringe - The Used.

Do, Do you, Do you know?

Do you know how long I've waited?

To look up from below,

Just to find someone like you?

And will your love like burn me, baby?

Burn a hole right through my heart

I think I might just trust you, maybe

But I'm not sure

I'm not sure I want to know

I'm so far gone now I been running on empty

I'm so far gone now

Do you want to take me on?

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

When they got there Rick suggested she stay with Daryl. His house was at the end of the street, out of the way from everyone. Rick had spoken to those closest to them, using his knowledge on the subject from his life before this. He explained she had been through a lot of trauma and she would need some time. Daryl was happy with this plan because he wanted her close to keep an eye on her. He felt a weird sort of responsibility for her since he’d laid his eyes on her, like he was the one who needed to keep her safe.

Zoey stood on Ricks porch as the others were inside talking about her. She tugged on the sleeve of the jacket Daryl had given her to wear when she got cold on the way. Her eyes flit anxiously around the place. It seemed so strange, it looked untouched from the horrors of the world outside. But there were people, so many people. Even at this late hour, once people found out they brought someone back, they were all looking and being nosey, it made her nervous. Her old group was once good. Full of kind people and they worked well. Her brother was second in command and she was well looked after. But after he died of a heart attack, everything went to hell. People weren't to be trusted anymore in her mind.

She exhaled sharply as she let the memories invade her mind, of the hell she had endured. She didn’t want to be here, she didn't want to be anywhere. People scared her now, she couldn't trust anyone. Not when she had been turned on by her own group who she once considered her family. She’d been so focused on the fact she was out of Franks clutches that she didn’t stop to think about how she would react to another group, people she didn’t know. The fear was crippling, she could feel it clawing its way out of her chest.

She jumped when she heard the door open behind her, her head whipping around. She relaxed a tiny amount seeing it was Daryl. Despite her fears of people, Daryl had saved her. So had Rick, but out of the two, Daryl seemed to soothe her for some reason. She furrowed her brows as she looked back out at Alexandria. She didn't know why he seemed to calm her.

She could feel her brain shutting down on her, the trauma of everything coming to the surface. Her mind was plagued with everything and she didn't know her ass from her elbow.

Daryl heaved a sigh as he looked at her. She was petite and she was trembling like crazy. He chewed his lower lip a little as he walked over, standing next to her.

“Ya alright?” he asked gruffly, venturing a glance her way from the side. She looked so lost and scared. He saw how her eyes scanned the area like she expected something to pop out and get her.

“Hey, yer safe here girl, don’t need to worry,” he said softly, trying to soothe her. He’d never been the type of person to comfort another, but he had a strong need to look after her. He didn't understand what he was doing, it just came naturally to him with her. She looked up at him with her big eyes, leaving him feeling breathless. There was no doubt she was a beautiful girl, but he could see the brokenness in her eyes, it haunted him and he just wanted to take it away for her. She didn't speak for a while, just looking at him. Eventually, he had to tear his gaze away from her intense look. It was making him feel strange, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling up.

“Ya’ll be stayin’ wi’ me, my house is outta the way. Shouldn’t have no one botherin’ ya,” he spoke gruffly. She nodded and looked away, feeling relieved she was to stay with him. He was the only one she felt any sort of comfort with.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she looked off. He didn't know why but he felt a small surge of anger for her thanks. He was just being a good person, he didn't want her thanks. He just grunted and started trudging off down the steps, leaving her watching him forlornly.

“Ya comin’ girl or what?” he called after her, glancing at her briefly. She nodded as she trotted off after him like a loyal puppy. She walked by his side, jumping at every little noise she heard. Daryl stole glances at her when he could. She was so skittish, like a wild animal being hunted. He hated that she felt this way.

When they got to his house he walked in, sitting down on the couch as he took off his boots. He watched her intently as she wandered around curiously. It was strange to her, to see such a home in these days. Not ransacked or full of the dead. She stopped walking around and just stood there, Daryl watching her, his jacket swallowing her tiny frame whole. She looked good in his jacket though. The fuck, where did that come from?

She was wringing her hands nervously in front of her and Daryl sighed a little.

“Sit down,” he didn't mean it to sound like he was barking an order, even though it did, and he cringed when she glanced at him nervously before moving to sit next to him. The silence was thick and it was making his skin crawl. He had the overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be fine, that she was safe with him. But he pushed it to the back of his mind, instead just looking at her every now and then.

“I’ll show ya yer room,” he huffed, having enough of the silence as he stood up. She again followed him obediently. Her room was nice, plain and simple. A bed and a set of drawers. It was much better than sleeping on the floor like she was used to.

“Get some rest,” that was all he said before he left her alone, leaving her with a sense of dread as soon as he vanished from her line of sight.

She rummaged through the drawers, pleased to find clothes. They were slightly big since she was so underweight but she chose some sweats and a long sleeve top to sleep in. She got in bed, it was comfy, her muscles weren’t used to such a luxury. She drifted off into a peaceful sleep, reminding herself that Daryl was in the next room. I’m safe. He said I’m safe.

She woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed as she panted, her dreams running through her mind like poison. It was still late, the moonlight shining through the window. Before her brain registered what she was doing, she was up and out of her room. She opened Daryl's door quietly, seeing him asleep and snoring a little in bed. She nibbled her lip, she wanted to wake him, she wanted to be next to him, to feel safe, but she didn't want to make him mad. She moved and sat on the floor next to the bed, curling up without a blanket. She was used to this, this was how she slept back in her old group. She felt comfort hearing Daryl's breathing and occasional snore, it was as close as she could get to him. She listened to him and went back into a peaceful sleep. This time with no nightmares.

The sun shone brightly through the windows and Daryl groaned a little, stretching in bed. It was early, he always woke early, it was just ingrained in him now. He rolled onto his side with a yawn and stopped dead when he saw Zoey lay on the floor asleep. He frowned as he sat up, confused with why the fuck she was sleeping there with no cover like a damn dog. Although the anger was misplaced, it was still there, and he couldn't help but nudge her, maybe a little too hard with his foot.

“The fuck ya doin’ girl? Get the hell up!” he frowned gruffly. Panic surged through her body as she sat up quickly, looking at him terrified. The look felt like a stab to the heart, she was scared of him. The one person she could feel safe with and he fucked it up. He looked almost pained as he heaved a sigh.

“Fuck, m’sorry...I just…” he wiped a hand over his face and watched her relax a little, sensing he wasn't going to hurt her. He lowered his head, looking at her through his hair as he chewed his thumb.

“Why ya sleep on the floor? Should have woke me,” he frowned at her, shaking his head. She averted his eyes and toyed with her hands.

“Nightmare,” she stated meekly, making Daryl feel like even more of an ass for shouting at her.

“Ya should have woke me girl, don’t want ya sleepin’ on the floor like a fuckin’ stray,” he huffed as he looked away. He wasn't quite sure what he would have done if she woke him, would he have let her in his bed? He glanced at her again, seeing how she avoided his gaze and toyed with her hands nervously.

“Didn’t want to make you mad,” her voice was so quiet, he felt like he might have imagined it. But when the words hit his ears, he felt his heart aching. He didn’t even think as he reached out, taking her chin in his hand to make her look at him. She jumped at the contact and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Wouldn't be mad at ya. Just...wake me next time,” he said, his voice low and a furrowed brow. He could see her confusion written all over her face as she looked at him and then looked away. Looking somewhat like a scolded child as her cheeks flushed pink. He let her chin go and sat up looking down at her intently, unable to tear his eyes away from her and her pretty pink cheeks.

“Sorry,” she mumbled softly, chewing her lower lip a little. Daryl rolled his eyes, trying to suppress his irritation. He knew she had been through a lot. This was all strange to her now, having someone that actually wanted to help her. But he was mad. He was mad at the fuckers that did this to her and made her so messed up.

“Ain’t got to be sorry girl, alright? Ya fine. Stop worryin’,” he spoke gruffly, getting up and starting to get his clothes. She stayed rooted in her space on the floor, eyeing him carefully. When he felt eyes on him, he looked over his shoulder at her, their eyes locking for a brief moment. He wasn't quite sure what the pull to her was, but it was there nonetheless. She blinked up at him before giving him the smallest briefest smile, one that nearly knocked the archer on his ass. He hadn’t expected it, but he found himself half smiling back at her too before he turned away. A surge of pride swelling in his chest at the small gesture, showing him she still trusted him.

“Get dressed and come down for breakfast,” he left without another word, he needed to get out of that room. The more time he spent around her, the more time he debated holding her, stroking her hair, all the shit that Daryl fucking Dixon did not do. Damn girl was making him soft.

Zoey dressed herself in some jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, not bothering to look at herself in the mirror. She couldn't face that just yet. It wasn’t until she reached the bottom step that she heard voices. Suddenly the people in the room who were talking to Daryl turned to look at her. She stood there wide-eyed, her body starting to tremble as she glared at the floor, colour draining from her face. Rick, Michonne, Carol, Glenn, Maggie and Denise all looked at her, Rick giving her a sympathetic look. He had briefed the others on what she had been through so they knew to tread lightly, and he requested Denise here knowing she used to deal with this kind of stuff before the turn. He wanted her to observe her, see if she could help.

When Daryl looked over, he noticed how her body shook, how short and quick her breaths were coming. He didn't even think twice before walking over, standing in front of her as the others looked on curiously.

“Hey, look at me,” he ordered gruffly, yet there was a soft look in his eye at the hushed tone. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, the terror building inside of her by the second. She didn't want to be here, she wasn't safe. People weren't safe. He took her chin much like he did upstairs and he made her look at him, her bright blue eyes flickering open and settling on the man before her. His mouth quirked up ever so slightly, pleased she had responded to him.

“Breathe for me Zoey, nice and slow,” he whispered, trying to keep this private for her. But the others heard him anyway, casting curious glances at each other. Rick couldn't suppress the slight smirk, he had noticed since they saw the girl how protective of her Daryl had been. The tough archer had a heart, who knew? After being with Daryl for so long, seeing how distant he was and how he pulled away, the others were intrigued by the interaction. When usually any interaction outside of their tight-knit group was like pulling teeth from him.

Zoey listened to his words, breathing slow and deep, making him nod.

“Atta girl, in and out,” he soothed, pleased she listened. He did it with her, showing her how to breathe to calm herself down. He noticed she started to relax just slightly.

“Alright, I know it's scary as shit, and I get it, but these people, they're good people. Ain’t gon’ hurt ya. I’ll make sure of that,” his voice was still low but his words were firm. He frowned a little when she cast her worried expression at him. He really just wanted to take all of her worries away. That and also skin Frank alive for making her this way.

“Think ya can do it?” he asked carefully, looking at her hopefully. His hope dwindled a little when her breathing picked up again and she closed her eyes. He was about to tell the others to leave, but she opened her eyes again, nodding at him even though she looked more than unsure.

He didn't want to push her, but he felt like if she got used to people, it would be easier for her. And he wanted her to get to know his post-apocalyptic family. Her eyes started to flit around again and he took her hand in his. A simple gesture but it was one the others had never witnessed before. He tugged her into the living room and she practically hid behind him. He gave the others a look, a warning almost not to push her too far. Daryl sat on the couch and pulled her hand to make her sit next to him before releasing her hand. She sat so close their arms were touching, and Carol raised an amused eyebrow at Maggie.

“Hey there Zoey, you remember me?” Rick asked soothingly, keeping his voice low and pleasant for her. She glanced timidly at him before averting her eyes, nodding as she picked at her nails. Rick smiled a little and tilted his head to look at her.

“You’ll be safe here, you don’t have to worry about that. We just need to ask you a few questions,” he stated calmly. Daryl's eyes snapped up to Ricks, a scowl forming on his face.

“Thought we agreed to wait ‘fore we asked the damn questions?” he huffed at him. Rick looked at him almost shocked by his harsh words and raised a brow at him, looking somewhat amused which only served to further irritate Daryl.

“We did, but the people here are worried Daryl, they don’t know her. We need to ask the questions to make sure she can stay,” Ricks words made Daryl bristle, his eyes turning hard as he glared his brother down. The others could sense the change in the energy and looked on not knowing what to do.

“She’s fuckin’ stayin’ no matter what the others say. Ya saw her Rick, ya saw what they fuckin’ did to her! She’s been here a day and ya’ll want to go fuckin’ proddin’ at her!” he yelled, not meaning to get so worked up, but he was a Dixon after all. Rick sat back with a sigh as he looked at Daryl unimpressed. He glanced at the meek girl next to him, keeping her head down as her hands trembled in her lap. He felt a pang of sympathy when he looked at her, Daryl wasn't wrong. He had seen what they'd done to her, and he could see by the state of her she was frightened. He didn't want her to be scared here.

“Look, fine, I’ll give her one more day. But Daryl she's not the only person in the damn community, people talk,” he stated as he levelled his gaze on Daryl who was still glaring bloody murder at him.

“Then let ‘em fuckin’ talk,” he growled angrily.

Rick and Daryl glared at each other for a moment, the others watching on feeling helpless at the deadlock and not wanting to get involved. It was a tense situation since Daryl seemed incredibly emotionally invested in the girl. They all shot curious glances to the quiet girl next to him.

Zoey sat there, the exchange of words swirling through her brain. She felt like she was already causing trouble here. If people didn't want her here, they’d hurt her. She could hear Frank laughing inside of her head. She reached a shaky hand out and tugged on Daryl's vest. As soon as she did, his head snapped to look at her, as if he hadn't been locked in a staring contest with Rick to begin with.

“S’wrong?” he asked quietly, the others were taken aback by how gentle his low words came out as he looked at her genuinely concerned. She glanced around the room at the eyes burning into them both, looking down and leaning next to his ear. He could feel her warm breath tickle his ear and he suppressed a shiver at the feeling.

“I’ll do it,” she whispered quietly, so only he could hear her. He moved back, only slightly to look at her concerned, their faces so close it caused a few raised eyebrows from their audience. Daryl didn't even seem to notice the others looking or how close the pair seemed to be. They were sure if he did he would run a damn mile at the situation.

“Ya don’t have to,” he replied, shaking his head as he looked at her through his obscured view of his hair. She looked down at her hands, trying to take strength from the man in front of her.

“Don’t want to be trouble,” she whispered. The words made his insides twist up all kinds of something awful and he recoiled like he had been physically struck by her. He levelled his eyes with her, his gaze fiery.

“Listen to me right now, ya ain’t any damn trouble and I don’t want to hear those words leave ya mouth again. Got it?” he frowned, his tone sharp and harsh yet his eyes were soft. Her words had him so worked up that he hadn’t been as quiet as he meant to be and the others watched on intrigued by the whole thing. She nodded and looked up at him, glancing to Rick briefly and Daryl knew she wanted to answer the questions anyway.

“Alright fine, she’ll answer the damn questions,” he huffed and waved his hand dismissively, clearly not happy with the events unfolding. He sat forward as he anxiously chewed his thumb, his head down letting his hair create a barrier.

Rick looked at Zoey, trying to not look amused by how Daryl was acting or the fact he had heard his words. She couldn't look him in the eye and kept fidgeting.

“How many walkers have you killed?” he asked, straight to the point. He kept his voice soft and calming though. Daryl couldn't help but notice her squirming a little, she was clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing and he hated that she felt she had to prove herself. He kept glancing at her and then looking away as he worried his thumb.

“Uh...I...a-a-lot,” she stammered, nerves wreaking havoc inside of her. Rick nodded, it wasn't like he expected a number from her, no one remembered just how many they killed.

“How many people?” he asked. Daryl wasn't the only one this time to notice her body tense at the question. She stilled completely and glared at her hands so hard the others thought they might fall off. Rick was patient with her, knowing she was traumatised and would need time to answer him. Pushing her would just upset her. It felt like a lifetime of silence before she answered, and Daryl's eyes had been glued to her the whole time, suppressing the urge to take her hand or just fucking hug her.

“T-Two,” she replied meekly as she started wringing her trembling hands. She was feeling overwhelmed, she didn't know what to expect when Rick had questions for her but it wasn't this. She could feel the panic bubble inside of her chest feeling like it was about to burst. The others weren't surprised by her answer, it was doubtful someone hadn't killed at least one person in this life, but it was the next question that meant the most, to see if it was justified.

“Why?” that one word seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back. She started shaking her head violently as she smushed herself into the corner of the couch, hugging her knees tightly.

“No, no, no. I-I can’t…” she whispered frantically as she started tugging her hair harshly. Daryl's eyes widened, much like the others did and he grabbed her wrists tightly, dragging them away from her hair.

“Hey girl! Stop it!” he barked, not meaning to sound so harsh but he was panicking himself that she would hurt herself. She gave him the most heartbreaking look, full of fear and sadness, and that was it.

“Ya happy now Rick?! Get the hell out!” he yelled as he stood up, his nostrils flaring and his chest heaving. The others looked on in shock at his outburst, but Rick had the decency to look guilty as he glanced at Zoey. He had not intended on upsetting her this way, he shouldn't have pushed her.

“Look Daryl, I’m sorry. But you gotta understand, it ain't just us here, the rest of the people, they're scared. They need to know the person we brought in is safe to be around,” he tried to reason as he too stood up, his hands up like he was surrendering. Daryl growled deep in his throat and took all of his restraint not to pounce on the man he considered his brother.

“Look at her man! Look me in the fuckin’ eye and tell me if she hurt someone that they ain’t deserve it!” he shouted as his arm swung around to point at the small girl hiding behind her knees.

“Daryl-” Rick started, wanting to calm him down.

“Get the hell out! Now!” he roared, such ferocity coming off him in waves that Denise almost fell off her chair as she scrambled to stand up. Rick heaved a sigh, shaking his head as he shot the girl an apologetic look, not that she caught it since she was a trembling mess curled up.

“I’m sorry,” he said calmly, levelling his gaze on Daryl before he left.

Daryl knew Rick didn’t do it on purpose, but it didn't matter. In that moment he was just so mad that people were poking and prodding at her when she was already so fragile. As the others looked at him curiously and filed out the house, Denise hung back at the door pacing nervously with a piece of paper in her hand. Daryl narrowed his eyes at her and sighed.

“What?” he asked harshly, halting her steps as she glanced at him and licked her lower lip nervously.

“Okay...Uh...I wanted to give you this. After Rick spoke to me I figured she might have some kind of PTSD, so I put together some info that might help you, some things you can do to calm her down. When she's settled, maybe she could come to me, this was my speciality before...all of this,” she rambled, barely breathing as she got the words out. Daryl relaxed a little, taking the paper and casting his eyes on it curiously. He nibbled his lower lip before looking at the doctor again, now visibly calmer than a few moments ago.

“Thanks,” he rasped with a nod, Denise gave him a smile and then left, wanting to leave him to it and get out of the vicinity of Daryl's rage before he flipped again.

Daryl wiped a hand over his face with a weary sigh, stuffing the paper in his back pocket as he walked back over to the couch. He sat next to her and contemplated how to proceed.

“They’ve gone now, just us,” he said soothingly, his voice low and gravelly. She sniffled and peaked over her arms like she didn't believe him, her eyes darting around the room looking for people. His mouth almost quirked into a smile at the sight of her. Her eyes settled back on him and he noticed her cheeks flush. She was so embarrassed by how she reacted and she couldn't even look at him now. It was like he could feel the shame radiating off her. He fucking hated it. He reached out and stroked the side of her head affectionately without even realising what he was doing.

“Hey, it's fine Zoey. It’s fine,” he lowered his head trying to catch her eyes and after a moment he managed to be successful.

They just stared at each other for a moment. It was like they didn't need words and he felt a pleasant warm feeling swell in his chest when he felt her lean into his touch. They stayed like that for a while, his hand buried into her hair as his fingers massaged her scalp. Her eyes were shut and he was sure he could practically hear her purring as he watched her carefully. He really couldn't explain what it was in her that brought this side out of him. That had him fiercely protecting her from those he considered his family, that had him touching her and soothing her in a way he'd never done to anyone before. But what he did know was that he would fucking protect her with his life. She for some reason seemed to need him, to calm in his presence whilst everyone else made her freak out. He wasn't quite sure why, it confused him, but at the same time it gave him a sense of purpose and pride. He would make sure she was safe, he wanted to nurse her back to health and make sure she was fine.

Taglist: @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend @txladyj-blog @walkingdead-dixon

[ziracona]

😮 Oh man, with the insight on Frank, it has me so curious. What's going on in the heads of everyone in the Legion lately? I'm especially curious about Joey, after the quality time spent with the survivors (well, in the back seat with Susie driving) during "She's Like the Wind". Or, if you're tired of the Legion, what about Michael in "The Tower"?

I’m totally happy to do the Legion (and I actually wrote up a bunch of stuff on them before deciding p best to wait), but there’s a lot of Legion stuff in the chapter I’m posting in the next couple days with some sort of big status-quo changes, so I feel like I should wait until after that to give Legion updates, or it could be kind of a waste, so I’ll do Michael.

Oh boy Mikey. Let me see. Buckle up, because this is a long one. So, let me start by saying in this fic, the way I write him is based on the canon portrayal in the first film (and some influence from the others—especially 2 and H20), but with my honest best attempt at an accurate psychological take on his situation. Horror’s a great genre, but it does a really shitty job about using mental illness as some kind of blanket excuse for being evil. John Carpenter literally came up with Michael after seeing some 12 year old schizophrenic kid in a mental institution when he was on a field trip that he thought had really dead, evil looking eyes, like he didn’t have a soul. Which is a pretty fucked up way to treat mental illness. And, since there’s no reason I should accept ‘He’s got psychosis and the devil’s eyes and has nothing in him but evil” as an accurate take on an actual human being, I’m not. I’m taking what is canon, and interpreting it (to the best of my ability) like a normal psychologist or person who isn’t Dr. Sam Loomis would. Usually I wouldn’t give as much on a character psych take (because I really, really like seeing how people interpret things), but it’s kind of specifically important for Michael and me doing my best to write him responsibly that while he’s a lot of things, and a lot of them bad, he’s not a mindless wall of walking evil.

Canonically, Michael’s had psychosis since he was at least five, and heard voices that told him to do bad things, like hurt people. He told his parents, in an attempt to get help, and was ignored. When he was six, he did what the voices told him to in an attempt to get them to stop, and killed his sister (without looking at what he was doing while he did it as much as he could [canon]), and then went downstairs to wait for his parents to get home (probably in the hopes that they could fix it, because he was six years old, and when you’re six, your parents can fix everything). Instead of anything getting better, he got sent to court, sentenced (to be tried for murder as an adult in fifteen years when he turned 21, which is absolute bullshit because by no stretch of human logic can a 6 year old child have committed a crime as an adult), and then left in an asylum for the next fifteen years of his life. His psychosis worsened, and he gained other symptoms, such as mutism and catatonia. His mom only visited a few times, with his little sister, and then she vanished off the face of the planet from his point of view. Completely abandoned by his family and everyone he knew, the only human contact he had from ages 6-21 was Doctor Sam Loomis, his psychiatrist, who had decided within a couple of months, that Michael was the human personification of evil, faking his mental illness like the evil genius six year old he was, and a demon in human form hellbent on murder. Now, the human brain doesn’t stop developing until the mid 20s, and it sure as hell isn’t done when you’re six. Kids that age don’t even really have a fully developed understanding of mortality and only a basic grasp on ethics. Emotional empathy doesn’t start really forming well until age seven, and abstract reasoning isn’t until preteen years. When you’re six, you’re not old enough to be evil. You just aren’t. But, if you grow up from age 6-21 with only one constant in your life, isolated in a tiny white room, hearing over and over from said only constant, an adult and the source of authority in your life, that you are evil, and soulless, and you are a killer waiting to kill again, you are dying to get out and commit murder, and they’re onto you, how exactly can you expect a human being to turn out?Especially when they’re already dealing with violent psychosis. You’ve basically convinced a mentally ill child that they are the bad voices in their head, not the person, and their goal in life is to commit lots of murder.

Michael’s personal goal, as much as he has one left, has pretty much solidly always been to do what the voices want so they’ll stop and he can be at peace. What they want is for him to kill his family, meaning his sister, Laurie. Kill Laurie, be at peace. That being the case, ending up in the Entity’s realm is about as shitty for him as it is for her, because no matter how many goddamn times he kills her, he can never, ever kill her for real, so he will never be able to stop the voices. He’s about as tired of being here as she is, which is saying a lot. But it’s been forty years of shit for him too.

I think Michael forgot he was a person a long time ago, because nobody’s treated him like one since he was baby. Since he was six. If you treat someone like a monster their whole life, that’s what they���re almost certainly going to become. In the Entity’s realm, it hasn’t really been any different. I don’t think he thinks about things very complexly, because he’s sort of too tired to, and he doesn’t have a real reason. He never learned a lot of normal human behaviors, including any attempt at even the most basic social contact. It’s like that really depressing scene in Lilo & Stitch when Jumba’s commenting on what it must be like to have nothing, even memories, to visit at night. He has memories, but they’re basically all the same—white room, fifteen years of Dr. Loomis. None of that’s a real human experience. Dr. Loomis didn’t even think he was a human—called him “It” instead of “Him.”

With Laurie suddenly acknowledging he’s her brother, it’s weird to him. Canonically, every time someone in a film reminds Michael he’s related to them, it’s like he gets smacked in the face (it’s actually kind of hilarious. He even takes his mask off for his niece in 5 when she calls him “Uncle”). A family member doing this always metaphorically suckerpunches him with the reminder that he has a name and an existence outside of killing people and there are human beings who know who he is and are related to him and have a lasting concept of him as a person. It’s not like he ever forgot they were siblings, but he didn’t remember to think about it. He spends all his time being the Shape, because Michael hasn’t really existed since he was six years old (not in a Dissociative Identity Disorder way, just, it’s an aspect of who he is that no one has been willing to acknowledge since he was a baby. He puts on the mask and kills because that’s what he’s supposed to be. It doesn’t really matter if he wants to, or if he likes it, or even if he still doesn’t have a completely developed concept of mortality, because he’s known for years now that it’s just what he does. It’s what he is). I don’t think he really knows how to think or feel (which he’s not used to doing period) about his sister or about that and being spoken to. He was definitely relieved at the prospect of having a way out of this, and since then it’s been kind of agonizing that she reneged on him and won’t commit joint suicide, but she’s also just been…weird. Been different. She talks to him like a person, which no one has ever done, and he does remember her from when they were little. I think it’s very confusing. He really doesn’t have the normal human skillset to be able to emotionally understand this. Which doesn’t mean he’s some emotionless zombie, just, he didn’t learn how to properly interpret or respond to things. He doesn’t have a normal human emotional or social skillset, because he never got to develop one. He didn’t get the chance. He hasn’t had a positive physical interaction, a hug, a handhold, a pat on the shoulder, since he was six--he hasn’t had any kind of social contact outside of the hostile psychological hatred and threats from Dr. Loomis period. There’s just not a normal set of human understand-the-world mental structures developed in him at all. Instead he’s got like…just all this shit—this really fucked up way of understanding the world built from fifteen years in isolation with just Dr. Loomis that’s completely separate from a normal human experience or mental scape, and the mental set of tools he would use to try to understand his sister is like, the dusty old normal human set that stopped growing when he was six years old that he kind of forgot about.

Michael’s also never done anything he wasn’t supposed to in the Entity’s realm, and I don’t think this has been explicitly stated in the fic, but he’s been punished now, for trying to break the rules with Laurie these past few trials. I don’t think he knew how to handle that or feel about it or think about it either, because it was a new experience for him. It’s very hard to hurt him at all, and it’s never happened with the Entity before this.

During The Tower, Michael wanted what he’s wanted since it was on the table (a way out by killing her), and when she said she couldn’t do it yet, genuinely misinterpreted that as her meaning she had to help the others finish the trial first. I don’t think he entirely understood why she kept running away from him, but he’s used to that kind of behavior, so it wasn’t that strange. What was extremely weird to him was getting jumped by two kids (when usually survivors wouldn’t touch him with a fifty-foot pole if it was up to them), who proceeded to tell him be was being a really crappy brother and should be nicer. It was. Surreal. I think when Laurie showed up and told him she hadn’t meant ‘in twelve minutes’ when she said later, he didn’t just attack her because he was mad she didn’t want to do suicide yet, I think it also kind of hurt his feelings that she made fun of him when he genuinely was trying to understand and thought she meant something else. Since what he wanted was off the table, he was upset (which was especially volatile becaus he doesn’t often experience hugely strong emotions) and on instinct just did what has been programmed to come naturally instead and went fucking lethal on them all, but got a surprising amount of resistance.

When she came back to fight him alone, I don’t think he completely understood everything she said, but he got a lot of it, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like losing the chance to get out of the realm for good with her, but I think he also didn’t really like being basically told that he was dead to her from here on out. I don’t think he’d exactly think of it that way, or put it into words—I don’t think he’d had long enough or the emotional growth enough to appreciate her caring about him, or to want it, but at the same time, he’d had someone treat him like a person for the first time in fifty some years, and I think it was probably briefly nice to be called by his own name and talked to like a person—I think it would be hard for that not to mean a little bit, even if you didn’t understand way. And then he had it reaffirmed by her before their fight that what Dr. Loomis had always said was true, and he’d fucked up so bad with her that he wasn’t ‘Michael’ anymore to her either, and even if he wouldn’t really think of it like that, I think subconsciously, that kind of had to hurt. 

At the end of their fight, when he was out on the floor, and Laurie didn’t kill him, while he was genuinely unconscious for some of that, he was awake for some of it too—the bulk of it, actually. Michael in film canon routinely not only has genuine resets where he passes out and heals and gets back up, but plays dead as well, to protect himself. So, he did hear a decent chunk of what Laurie said to him. She kind of poured her heart out, and some of it was pretty complicated stuff, and a lot of it was stuff he doesn’t really have the emotional complexity developed to understand right now, but he understood some of it. I don’t think he expected things to end like they did (and not just him getting his ass kicked by her). She basically flipped on him, and said she was wrong, and even like this he was still her brother, and because she remembers how he was when he was six she can’t make herself not love him, even if she knows she shouldn’t, and that she wasn’t going to kill him like that, even if it meant he was going to come after her again and kill her. I don’t think he gets why she would say those things, but it did make him want to know, and I think he’s aware that it should mean something to him, regardless of if it does or not on an emotional level, and it is at least something that interests him. Probably his most intact human emotion is curiosity (and it’s no wonder—he’s basically never seen anything, or been anywhere, or done anything—he’s barely gotten a chance to live, period. Any social interaction where someone isn’t running from him screaming or threatening him and telling him he’s a monster is uncharted territory). What that would mean for him going forward as far as Laurie is concerned is very complicated, though. Laurie interests him and there are things he wants to understand, but he’s just got so little ability to function like a normal human being. So much of him is so awfully mangled and maladapted, and the rest has been stagnating since he was 6 and he’s so very, completely, depressingly isolated. He’s a serial killer, but he’s really also kind of a tragic character. It’s fucked up what happened to him, and most of it isn’t really his fault. It didn’t have to be like that.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 16: The Forbidden Forest

The breath of fresh air was like finally stepping out of an exam. Your brain turned back on, you could remember an answer you couldn't ten minutes ago, and they finally weren't surrounded by walls! There were no buildings, no castle, for once the lack of human civilization felt right...then Remus really looked around and saw where they were, and had to fight back the urge to scream.

The dark trees towered over them all, some pressed so close together it was as if they were hugging, others spaced almost evenly, as if someone at some time had actually intended to plant them. There were all different species as well, weather of magical properties or simply the transitions of very many years introducing new to this Forbidden Forest. The Marauders knew them all, not particularly by name, but of what could be inside them. They each could have taken a quick look around and pointed which direction Hogwarts was, how to navigate to a manticore den if one were suicidal enough, contact the centaurs or even go chasing after some spiders. They also knew what else would soon be in this forest, that only appeared once a month.

Remus had been feeling sick since this all took off, and not for the same reasons as the others. After he'd told his friends about his secret, they soon didn't even have to ask when the full moon even was, they could keep track of it themselves. Not by looking to the stars, but the werewolf himself. His body, so physically tied to the endless cycle, seemed conditioned itself to run in phases. When a new moon, Moony was at the peak of health, as bright eyed and laughing along with anyone. The heavier the orb became, the heavier his eyes grew, the paler his skin got, as if the curse itself were to match.

Ignorant as they'd been of the true meaning of time in all of this, they'd all kept a careful eye on him through every time jump, and none really liked what they saw. That last potions class, the last clear marker of anything they had, meant only four days tell a full moon again. Remus had been so quiet and withdrawn it could have been that night. Through several bunts across this universe though, they'd gotten so lost and muddled it was impossible to keep track of anything, let alone something so far above they couldn't even see.

Now all four looked up, but the thicket of branches was as revealing as a ceiling, and their friends luminescent pallor could still mean anything.

Then Lily did scream.

At first she'd simply thought it was a pile of snow. That was wrong though, there was a slight chilly breeze creeping through, but it had the taste of spring tease, not nearly cold enough for a whole mound of undisturbed pile so breathtakingly unpigmented.

The tangled legs, silky mane, and spiral horn had formed next. She'd started forward in concern, her mind offering up a foal sleeping. The deep silver of blood dripping still warm from its neck was the last click.

To the others credit, no one ran. They all had wands out at once and tried to draw closer to each other even in this circle of mistrust, but as one by one they all saw the same, a deadly silence fell as surely as this mythical creature.

Potter spoke first, inching towards her and hissing, "Evans, get away!"

It was true she had seemed to land nearest the mare, she could have reached out and touched the alabaster hindquarters.

"And go where," Regulus uneasily demanded.

Pettigrew shot a glance at him, and immediately turned on the spot and tried to shoot some purple jet of light into the darkness. It, like every spell before, simply vanished with no visible trace of ever being there, but the moment he stepped in the same direction, there again was an invisible barrier blocking them from stepping out of this clearing.

"Okay, well, at least whatever did it isn't in here with us," Frank offered, straightening from a defensive position near Alice and doing a quick 360 to confirm there was nothing lurking nearby. Shadows were aplenty, but certainly whatever had done this would have attacked at their arrival...right?

"Lily, come on, please get away from it," Potter insisted, the genuine fear still there finally sinking through her shock. Carefully, still on hands and knees like she'd landed, she backed away as far as she could, unintentionally putting herself right beside Potter as she stood, the book in her hand though none had seen it before.

"It was right by her heart," she muttered, running her hand uneasily over the cover and looking up at him. Then just as quickly, she turned and walked away, over to Alice and Frank, flipping through pages for her place and reading the chapter title without surprise, she'd figured that out all on her own.

James watched her go before turning eyes back on the unicorn. They didn't see many running through the Forest, though they weren't shy creatures, as they had no natural predators. One had even come across Moony, but though he'd stared it down, he'd instead continued right back to putting his nose to the ground after some griffins nest still five miles out.

Regulus spoke what all of them still couldn't get past, "what could have done this?"

Even those who hadn't taken Care of Magical Creatures knew a thing or two about this beast, for Professor Slughorn stressed when using their hairs or horn shavings in potions classes how valuable they were, and the only part they'd use in class. Even Professor Flitwick had once treated them to a lecture when one student asked about the wand core. Everybody said the same thing. They were a purely good and innocent life, and to slay one for any reason was a curse. To continue the act, to drink the blood as something had clearly done...it was unheard of.

For the first time, none of them had really stopped to consider the fact that though all people had vanished during their time of this, what about other things? If the unicorns body could still be here, than very likely what had done this could be as well.

With that lovely thought in mind, Lily read with more unease than she ever thought a book could do, about Harry getting something silly like a detention. The Marauders at least were momentarily distracted from everything by wondering just what Harry had done with their cloak, surely the boy wouldn't leave it up on the tower forever!

They did feel for Harry of course, and even more for Neville when he got dragged into all this for doing the right thing. McGonagall's punishment was admittedly ridiculous, but now that the others were distracted but the Marauders could just shrug off something so silly like losing house points, they kept on track with their friend who may be facing a very real problem soon.

Throughout all of these time jumps, any one of them could have been during a full moon, and none of them could do a thing about it. Knock out the other four so they didn't realize what, or who, was happening and transform? Protecting all of them while in some enclosed space!

This was so far the only solution James had thought up, and Remus hadn't a chance to tear it down then in their common room, but he did now where hopefully the wind snatched away their words better than the Quidditch team acting a prat to Harry.

"This just isn't safe! I nearly killed someone last time, I won't let it ever get that close again!"

"That was my fault," Sirius hatefully pointed out, tense and looking nearly as sick as Remus at the reminder, but he had to make this clear. "You're right Moony, it won't ever go that far again because we'll make sure it won't, none of this is on you!"

"What do you want us to do anyways?" Peter demanded with a little huff, he couldn't be on look out forever, he'd already seen Frank grow suspicious of them at least once. "You keep griping about this, but I don't hear you coming up with any ideas." Then, at a much more conversational tone of voice, "Glory, Harry would be the one to come across Quirrell at a time like that."

The others had to quickly play catch up to what they'd been listening to in the background, but clearly no one else noticed, so their inane chatter to each other about all Harry's varying luck was given no more thought than the whispered conversation.

"Wait, what's Harry doing out on the grounds for his detention?" James did turn and look at Evans fully again, glancing to Peter and really feeling like he'd missed something, but the other shrugged with no more clue than Filch was giving.

Then Remus slumped to the ground, looking utterly exhausted and likely to faint any moment as it seemed his own worst fear was going to play out in Harry's time at the exact moment it was here.

They were all admittedly thunderstruck at such a punishment, but the fact that it was taking place with Hagrid made them think that somehow the gamekeeper had pulled this off himself. Likely feeling bad for getting the kids into this, in his warped mind he probably thought he was giving them a treat.

Alice just snickered at the young Malfoy, and how Filch was no help at all. "Honestly, any decent teacher would have just told what you should do when facing a werewolf, not him though."

"Wouldn't be Filch if he didn't traumatize one kid a year," Frank agreed.

Remus tried to keep breathing evenly that they were just blowing this off, that surely the teachers wouldn't have them out there during a full moon...but there was no longer a werewolf on those grounds even trapped safely away, so what if they didn't care about such things anymore? Filch nor Hagrid were denying a full moon tonight!

News of the unicorn brought them up short at least, all eyes turning back to the very same.

"Please," Potter begged, "someone tell me that we're just getting an unpleasant first hand look at this thing! Let the record be broken that we aren't where Harry likely will wind up!" His voice was near screaming at the end, and Sirius shifted uneasily from rubbing Moony's shoulder to patting James, now both looked likely to vomit.

"See, he's going in with Hagrid," Peter tried his best to keep looking on the bright side of this. "Nothing in this forest is going to mess with him!"

"Nothing in the forest now," Remus said hoarsely, the others were just pleased he was still bothering to make conversation. "Twenty years from now? Clearly something got in."

"Do we need to separate you two next?" Sirius snapped.

"Yes please," Remus bitterly grumbled, glancing again at the heavens like he hoped they'd swallow him up.

"Moony, listen," Sirius crouched down beside him, James and Peter striking up a loud conversation about what they hoped ate Malfoy as a distraction. "Nothing's going to happen, alright! Time's been a bit screwy around here lately, I know, but that has to mean it's also working on our side! No full moon," he finished, practically breathing in his ear by the end, "and Merlin help it if there is one, we won't let you hurt anyone, not even yourself, just like always."

Remus turned to face him, and in the practically non-existent lighting all he could really do was trace his face. Their noses were inches apart, and that electricity seemed to snap between the two again. Remus couldn't help it, he believed him. He could still vividly recall that look of shock, the horror only just setting in as Sirius told him what had happened, and then he'd gone all defensive and tried to play it off like another joke. This time his expression remained open and sincere, which was all Remus had wanted to see the past month. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed right then not to kiss him, his hand twitched involuntarily anyways and brushed against Sirius fingers.

Padfoot just smiled and let them stay overlapped like that, it was dark enough nobody would notice.

James paused in describing the details of bowtruckle eye removal as he glanced between the two, certainly sensing something, but he was just so happy they were even speaking to each other again he didn't press them for whatever that was.

Of course Malfoy ruined the whole thing, all of them jumping in shock at the red sparks and wanting to pull that blond head off for doing that to Neville at a time like this. Maybe it was just because they saw the danger right in front of them, but it felt even more suicidal than facing down that troll for Harry to be going off alone now!

Sirius would even take Norbert back! This was something that could actually kill the kid, again!

Indeed that seemed exactly what was about to happen! Whatever monstrosity that was drinking unicorn blood and then turning its attention on that little boy was as good as dead if the centaur hadn't arrived.

Lily couldn't help but sink to the leafy ground herself as, whatever that thing could be was run off. For the first time, she'd really felt invested in that danger, had wanted to shield and protect Harry from this! All of the other situations he'd either gotten himself into or she hadn't believed a danger was there, she'd either just seen Potter in her mind being an idiot or trusted Sev wouldn't let anything happen. Now though, that little boy was just doing a detention for the school, one he'd gotten while helping a friend, and this was by far the most heart stopping thing to become of that!

The night just couldn't end there. They got more information from Firenze than anything else so far, none of it at all pleasant, and all putting a much larger scope on this problem.

Regulus hadn't even been sure how he'd felt about the demise of the Dark Lord because of this Boy Who Lived. He'd spent his whole life up until now wanting nothing more than to join the prospering future of the Death Eaters, but in fact the world seemed to have gone on without the Dark Lord. Now though, from the word of a centaur, there was absolute proof this was no glory for money as they'd all believed before. Now it made sense why Dumbledore wanted that Stone right under his nose.

The Dark Lord was trying to come back, and he seemed determined to kill Harry to do it.

Lily nearly pissed herself all through the conversation of Harry catching up his two friends on all of this. She'd barely given herself a moment to even admit how invested in this story she'd slowly been before it was all slammed down on her with pure adrenaline. A world without You-Know-Who was so far just a fairy-tale in this future, now just as quickly it was all about to be stripped away? She had no clue how Harry was being so calm about this!

The end note still managed to hold its own surprise, though at least it was a decent one. Getting his cloak back could only be a good thing, right?

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Time for another chapter.  Thanks for your continued support of this story. Hope you enjoy.

As ever, Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and support.

Chapter 25: A Tense Miscommunication

Any woman who is sure of her own wits, is a match, at any time, for a man who is not sure of his own temper. - Wilkie Collins, The Woman in White

For Claire, Christmas had never been a time for family or traditions. She always supposed that before her parents’ deaths, they had celebrated together. Indeed she did have hazy recollections of being taken to meet Santa Claus, of the mince pie, sherry and carrot being left out on Christmas Eve, of the presents under the tree on Christmas morning. So hazy were these memories that she was never sure whether they were really hers, or if she had borrowed them from some Christmas film or television advert.

Once she went to live with Lamb, Christmas became something very different. The holidays were usually spent in some far-off location following the footsteps of the Crusaders. Gifts were exchanged, but usually before or after their travels and there were some years that the archaeologist and his niece lost track of dates, only realising days later that Christmas Day had been and gone and that Christmas dinner had consisted of nothing more fancy than bread, and cold meat and cheeses.

Even when Claire was with Frank, Christmas was never celebrated in a traditional way but usually involved a formal dinner in a smart hotel with Frank keenly observing Claire’s food and alcohol consumption (Christmas pudding and a mince pie, Claire? Is that really necessary? Another glass of wine?). Consequently, she frequently offered to cover some of the more unpopular shifts at the hospital over the festive period.

This year, she felt, was payback time. As early as possible she requested the full Christmas and New Year period off, knowing no one would refuse that based on her willingness to work over previous years.

And so, when Jamie asked in early November whether she was working over Christmas and New Year, she confidently told him that she wasn’t. That was the end of the conversation.

By the end of November, the conversation had still not resumed. Claire was getting decidedly nervous about the holiday plans and sought reassurance from Geillis as they had their regular get-together at their favourite Italian restaurant.

“So, why do you think he hasn’t mentioned Christmas plans yet? Am I not invited? Is it like the Royal family, you know, where you have to be married to one of them before you’re invited to spend Christmas with them at Sandringham?”

“Claire, have another glass of wine and dinna fash. There isna any doubt in ma mind that ye will be snuggled up wi’ yer man fer the holidays in the Highlands. I reckon he thinks it’s a done deal that ye’ll be spending Christmas together, or that he’s already spoken tae ye about it. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Ye come along and spend it wi’ me and ma family. Ye’d be verra welcome, ye ken. And the family Christmas dinner will be grand, as long as we keep Granny away from the rum.”

Claire did as she was told and poured herself another glass of wine. “Okay, but if he hasn’t said anything by the first week in December, I’m going to tackle him about it. I know he’s got a lot on his mind with… Geneva… but…”

Geillis poured the remains of the bottle of wine into her glass, motioning to the waiter for another bottle as she placed the empty one upended in the ice bucket. “How is the stuck-up bitch doin’?”

“She’s actually doing ok, I believe from what Jamie tells me. But she’s taken to texting or ringing him with every little twinge or ache. Last week she rang to say that her fingers had swelled and she needed help with preparing dinner.”

Geillis, mid sip of her wine, snorted with laughter. Dabbing the spilt wine up with her napkin, she finally caught her breath, coughed and carried on talking.

“Oh, fer fuck’s sake, it went right up ma nose.” She blew her nose on the napkin. “He didna go round did he? He’s no’ feelin’ that guilty that he has tae jump every time she clicks her fingers?”

“No, thankfully, he has a new tactic. Any twinge, pain or swelling he now tells her that I will go and see her, since I’m a doctor. She really doesn’t want anything to do with me, so the ailment suddenly vanishes… Are you sure I don’t need to worry about Christmas, G?”

********

Jamie finished his phone call to his father and walked into the kitchen where Claire was loading the dishwasher.  He stood for a minute admiring how her arse wiggled slightly from side to side as she positioned the crockery and saucepans to her satisfaction before closing the door. He was frequently tempted to deliberately load it in a haphazard way, just so she would have to spend longer over that activity. Her old, comfortable yoga pants were very worn, the fabric stretched so thin that Jamie could clearly see the lines of her panties. He adjusted himself discreetly as Claire stood up, then trapped her between his arms, each hand resting on the countertop behind her. She lifted her face up for a kiss and Jamie dutifully obliged.

“That was Da. He said tae remind ye about the tacky Christmas jumper competition.”

The look of incomprehension on Claire’s face made Jamie pause for a moment. “Fer Christmas, I told ye about our tradition every Christmas Day. Worst jumper wins the prize. I reckon we should drive up to Lallybroch Christmas Eve morning if that’s ok wi’ ye.”

“Well, yes, you told me about the tradition but you never asked me to come to Lallybroch with you for Christmas.” Claire freed herself from Jamie’s embrace and stood, hands on hips, lips pressed together.

“Aye, I did. I said a few weeks back, I remember askin’ ye if ye were off work fer the holidays and ye said ye were.” Jamie retaliated.

“Which does not equate to asking me to Lallybroch for Christmas.” Claire was now in no mood for backing down. “How am I expected to know if you don’t ask me? I might have made other plans.”

“Weel, have ye?”

“No,” Claire admitted. “but that’s not the point. You can’t make decisions without asking me. I’ve been in a relationship like that with Frank and…”

Jamie inhaled sharply at the mention of that name. “I did ask ye. Ye knew what I meant and ye said yes.”

“Do not suppose to tell me what I know or don’t. You cannot do that. Frank was always trying to…” Claire’s voice was icy calm.

“Frank!” Jamie exclaimed loudly, banging his fist on the countertop. “I dinna want tae hear that name. I am no’ like Frank!”

Claire stepped closer to Jamie, her face now flushed with frustration, her finger jabbing against the solid muscle of his chest. She desperately wanted to slap his face, inflict some pain but held herself in check. “You don’t like it when I mention Frank, my ex boyfriend. You’ve never met him, he has no place in our lives, contact with him is zero but you don’t like it.”

The jabs with her finger continued. Jamie winced, not from any pain but he knew what was coming.

“But I have to have your fucking ex rammed down my throat. Her and her attempts to play happy families with you. And I take it with no complaint. But please excuse me if I mention a man’s name once in a while. I don’t mean to upset your delicate constitution.” Claire’s voice now dripped with sarcasm.

She moved away from Jamie. “I don’t want to talk to you right now, don’t even want to look at you. I’d storm out but this is my fucking flat, so just leave me alone.”

She rushed out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

******

Jamie sat down, wondering what to do now. He had no intention of actually leaving the flat, but realised that he needed to give Claire some time alone before he began to try to make amends. He knew he would have to do some serious apologising. The fault lay with him not communicating with Claire properly about Christmas; assuming she would go along with his decisions and then going mad when the comparisons with Frank were made. He never wanted to make Claire feel like Frank had made her feel, and yet he’d done just that. And she was right, she had to put up with his ex being a very real part of their lives whereas Frank was just a name.

Jamie decided to give Claire some more time and then try to apologise.

******

Claire had donned her onesie as some form of comforter and was curled up on her bed. She knew the argument wasn’t about Christmas really. Jamie had to learn that she wouldn’t put up with behaviour like Frank’s. Plus the whole Geneva situation niggled away at her. Most of the time she could handle that, but every so often it just bubbled over and needed a release valve. The valve tonight had been Jamie’s performance as jealous boyfriend and first class dickhead.

Months ago, when she and Geillis first discussed having a fling, one of the criteria was no complications. Well, Claire smiled ruefully, that had well and truly been blown out of the water.

There was a tentative knock at the door. Claire said nothing. The door opened slightly and a hand appeared waving a white teatowel. The hand took Claire’s silence as permission to enter, and pushed the door open wide.

Jamie dropped the towel and came over to the bed. Claire shimmied over to make room for him to sit next to her. She said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. He settled himself on the bed, shuffling his bottom up the mattress and leaned back against the headboard. His hand reached across the pillow and stroked Claire’s hair, tucking that insistent rogue curl behind her ear.

“Claire, I’m that sorry. That was all ma fault back there. I kent you’d want tae spend Christmas up at Lallybroch but I shouldna have planned it wi’out askin’ ye. I shoulda spoken tae ye about it. I dinna want tae be like Frank.”

Claire pulled Jamie’s arm, forcing him to lie down next to her, face to face, so close they could each feel the other’s breath against their mouths. It was now her turn to run her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with her nails. He groaned slightly in pleasure at the sensation.

“And ye’re right, I am… was… am a jealous prick. I ken Frank means nothin’ tae ye and the only time ye mention him tae me is tae speak badly of him. I have nae right to shout at ye and ye have every right tae shout at me. I dinna have tae live wi’ Frank in our lives save as an unpleasant memory, but ye have tae put up wi’ Geneva in our lives all the time and know that it isna goin’ tae go away.”

Jamie kissed her lightly on the lips, gratified that he could feel her respond to him, pulling him closer.

“Jamie, nobody said relationships were easy, especially with all the baggage we seem to have accumulated, but we need to work at it together and make decisions together. We are a team, remember.”

“So, will ye come tae Lallybroch wi’ me fer the holidays?”

“I would love to.”

He pulled apart from her, bringing his hand to her chest, struggling to find the zip on her onesie. He paused, momentarily, from his search.

“Wait, did ye just call Geneva an old bag?”

“I was actually talking about emotional baggage, but hey, why not?” Claire laughed.

“Fair point. Now, as a team, can we work at getting naked together? Starting with this blasted onesie.”

[anthropologicalhands]

r/n 21. on a place of insecurity

note: it’s a hogwarts au! link to Ao3

~

Before she knew she was a witch, Rebecca’s seventeenthbirthday hadn’t held any special appeal for her, not the way the birthdaysdirectly preceding and following did. But the day her Hogwarts letter wriggled outof her mailbox and swept her out of her mother’s house changed all of that. True,it wasn’t a complete rescue; no castle, no matter how far away, could save herentirely from her mother and her neverending push for excellence which, unmooredby the new standards that a whole wizarding world revealed, doubled down inother ways.

However, by wizarding law, at seventeen a witch is an adult.When Rebecca turns seventeen, provided that she does not involve Muggleswithout ties to the wizarding world, she will be able to prove to Naomi Bunch,once and for all, what magic can really do.

There is always more magic to learn, even filled as the pastsix years have been with falling in love with Josh Chan, developing unusual butstrong inter-House friendships with Valencia Perez and Heather Davis, andfinding refuge in the Divination tower to have tea with Professor Proctor, evenif Rebecca had to drop the subject after her A-for-Acceptable-except-notOWL, forced to concede that she was too willing to read signs into anythingthat might suit her wishes.

That self-awareness, however, doesn’t stop Rebecca fromwishing for a sign right now.

There are barely fifteen minutes left before the end of herstudy session with Nathaniel Plimpton and she still hasn’t made her propositionyet, and it isn’t entirely clear if her own nervous anticipation or some otherforce is stretching the seconds out, so that the time to drag on especiallylong. Maybe it’s the short winter days, which makes the shadows in the libraryare especially long and dark, even though dinner isn’t for another two hours,or the flickering candlelight that makes her eyes sting and is definitely notthe best source of illumination. Idly, she wishes had her favorite reading light,the one shaped like a cartoon anglerfish, but no; it’s against the rules tohave any Muggle technology in the castle, even components as simple as alightbulb and batteries. She might still try it before she finishes; evensomething that small is a novelty to the classmates of hers who have only knownmagic all of their life, who haven’t had to fight to hold onto it, to make sureit isn’t just a fever dream.

She wants to see how Nathaniel would react, in particular—notto a reading light, but to a whole list of Muggle contraptions; he usuallymakes wonderful faces when confronted by technology he doesn’t know. From whatshe has seen of his Muggle Studies syllabus, they tend to skip out on some ofthe more interesting innovations.

Nathaniel likes to claim that Muggle Studies are a logicalchoice as a course of study going into Wizarding law, even though he knewabsolutely nothing about the Muggle world before they started talking inearnest, and he refuses to take her insights until after the professor hasgraded and returned his work – the result of a couple of small, harmlessmisconceptions she planted in his head early on in their acquaintance. Still,she’s looking forward to reading his essay on electricity after he gets it back—hetends to make interesting assumptions about the devices used in Mugglekitchens.

Rebecca sighs, not quietly, and peers over A Guide toAdvanced Transfiguration to see if Nathaniel might have the same jitteryfeeling as the end of their session approaches and might speak first so thatshe doesn’t have to start. But he seems perfectly content as he writes out hisessay in that neat, narrow script of his, nearly at the end of his roll ofparchment. She fidgets and groans to herself, realizing that she can’t wait forhim to look up first if she wants to talk to him about this and not miss herchance. Because she really, really wants to see how he’ll react to thisidea of hers.

“Hey,” she says, breaking the silence, testing the waters.

His eyes immediately flick up to meet hers.

“Hey,” Nathaniel returns, the word clipped and neutral. Buthe sets down his quill, like he knows that she wants to talk, and a full-bodyflush goes through her at his acquiescence, though she clears her throat andtries to seem perfectly unaffected as she leans towards him, so that there isno chance of their conversation will be overheard. He shifts towards her aswell, mirroring her folded hands and inclined head.

“Have you ever thought about what form your Animagus wouldtake?”

Nathaniel raises his eyebrows at her, unimpressed.

“Not particularly,” he says, sitting back in his chair. “Whatuse would I ever have for that? They’re just going to ask about the generalprocess, or the spell, not about your opinion.”

Rebecca pouts at him. “Come on, dude. Leave the cut-and-dryroutine and play along.”

Nathaniel rolls his eyes at her, the way he does when he isgoing to oblige her but wants her to know that he knows exactly what he is doing. She sits back, completely unashamed –whatever makes him feel good enough that he gives an answer.

“A cheetah,” he admits, with great reluctance.

Rebecca blinks, surprised; it’s a slightly more fancifulanswer that she would have expected.

“Really? A cheetah? The super sickly mammal known to haveanxiety? That one?”

“It’s the fastest mammal in the world,” he defends.

Rebecca hums, not entirely sold. “I guess. I’d have thoughtthat you were gonna pick a big cat, it would be a lion. Though, it makes sensethat you didn’t, ‘cause then you would lose face with all of your Slytherinbuddies, huh?”

Nathaniel just gives her a Look; she smiles innocently.

“What about you?” he asks, not because he cares, but becauseit is the point of the conversation, and he knows it. Rebecca is happy to takeit anyways.

“I haven’t decided yet, but I’m about to find out very soon.”

Nathaniel cocks his head to the side, the way he does inclass when the professors make a point that doesn’t track for him. “What do youmean by that?”

She nods, trying to seem careless and not like her heart ispounding in her throat. “What it sounds like. I’ll know before my next birthday.”

“Are you saying that you’ve…”

She smirks. “Not yet. But I will.”

She likes getting Nathaniel caught off guard, the way hisexpressions contort and how he tries to recompose himself afterwards. She usedto fluster him so easily, after their initial animosity had turned towards a friendlieracademic rivalry; he’s gotten used to her, but she can still do it, and she isconfident that announcing her intentions to become a teenage Animagus is morethan certain to provoke a reaction.

“Wow, that’s…”

“Amazing? Intense?” she supplies helpfully.

“A lot. That’s a lot of work for something that might beultimately pointless.”

The anticipation that had her floating so high abruptly turnsto lead, threatening to drag her down. But where there might have been mortificationwith anyone else, indignance flares up instead.

“What do you mean by pointless?” she demands,suddenly defensive to cover up her disappointment. She had been wanting areaction like the first time she successfully Vanished her raven and he hadlooked at her with such frank admiration. “There have only been sevenregistered Animagus this century. I would be among the best. What’s pointlessabout that?”

She can tell that she’s getting riled up, and she stops andcloses her eyes, taking two deep, slow breaths—after the Josh drama last year,she’s been working on monitoring herself, how she strikes out when she’s hurt.When she feels sufficiently calm and opens her eyes, Nathaniel is still sittingacross the table, concerned, trepidatious, but waiting for her.

Some of her irritation dissipates at the sight; she coughsand rolls out her shoulders self-consciously. “Sorry. That was a bit much.”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“What did you mean, then?” She tries to sound curious anddisaffected, but does not succeed, if Nathaniel’s wince is any indication.

“I misspoke. It would be impressive,” says Nathanielslowly, cautiously. “But is it really practical?”

“Explain.” She means to sound commanding, not petulant, butit comes out in enough of a snarl that Nathaniel holds up his hands, palmsforward, to show he means no harm, that he has no means of defense if shedecides to hex him.

(Which is silly, she would never hex him. Tackle him downthe stairs towards the Great Hall, maybe. Or send him a Howler. But nothexing.)

“Rebecca,” he says, and a tiny part of her softens at howcarefully he says her name. “You’re definitely smart enough to get it right. That’snot a question.”

She can feel herself softening further, an additionalflicker of warmth in her chest at the compliment, but has no time to enjoy itbefore he continues, “But the process requires really precise conditions that onlyoccur by chance—you can’t exactly conjure your own lightning storm.”

“Watch me,” Rebecca mutters, but without heat. She slouchesback down in her seat, crossing her arms and not breaking eye contact. “Whatelse do you have?”

“Right.” Nathaniel still looks a little ill-at-ease, but thatnever stopped him from delivering a lecture before and it isn’t stopping himnow. “If you turn into something…unusual, you’re more likely to get caught,especially if you don’t want to get registered—”

“You think I would be something unusual?”

“Not the point. Besides, we need to focus on our NEWTS. Doyou really want to undergo a painful, highly dangerous transformation duringexams? What if you get stuck without thumbs?”

Rebecca lets out an involuntary snort of laughter. IgnoringNathaniel’s grin, she says, “That’s your worst-case scenario, that I can’ttake my exams? Please. Becoming a fully-fledged Animagus would totally countas a practical demonstration of my magical capabilities.”

“Again, not the point,” says Nathaniel tartly.

“Well, my point is that I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’tcompletely sure I could succeed. I thought you would be into that, because it’sall daring and individualistic and a challenge. Always reaching, right? Isn’tthat what you like to say?”

Nathaniel narrows his eyes at her use of his words againsthim, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a risk, and not acalculated risk. What did your girl mob say about it?”

“Conceptually, they found it very interesting,” says Rebecca,a little too casually, and knowing it, hating how Nathaniel knows her wellenough that his eyebrows climb high up his forehead again at her reply.

“Conceptually?” he prompts.

“It was the best way to frame it,” she says quickly, rushingto get ahead of his objections. “Look, if they knew I was serious, Valenciawould just start freaking out about all of the laws and regulations I would bebreaking, and Heather might not say anything but she would give me that lookthat she gets sometimes and, really, I’ve thought this through, I don’t needany of that. So, no, I haven’t told anyone else. Just you.”

She only feels a little guilty when Nathaniel straightens upin his seat.

“Why me, then?” he asks, too carelessly for it to be natural.

“Well, like you said, it’s a very precise process, so I needsomeone who likes that sort of thing – exact quantities and followinginstructions to the letter—just to make sure that I don’t end up without mythumbs. And, logically, that means you.”

She internally cringes at how thickly she’s laying it on, almostlike desperation, but she comforts herself that it is, at least, true. Shetrusts Nathaniel to help her carry this out, if he so chooses—she wouldn’t haveasked him otherwise.

Nathaniel just looks at her for a long moment, a familiarmixture of exasperation and fascination across his features, like he can’tbelieve what he’s hearing. It used to make her feel self-conscious, but thesedays she knows how he thinks – the fascination usually wins out. For all of hisown obsessive tendencies and demands for perfection, she has never felt like hewanted her to fail, and she thinks (hopes) that this time will be no different.

“Very well,” he says at last, holding out his hand. “You’reon.”

Her heart lifts; she knew he wouldn’t let her down.

“I don’t need your challenge,” she says. “But thank you.”

They shake, and the prickle of electricity that shoots upthrough her arm and settles deep in her stomach has nothing to do with theanticipation of the challenge. It doesn’t quite make up for the reaction shedidn’t get, that she was hoping for, but it comes more than close enough.

Her homework planner chirps a five-minute reminder.

“Time’s up. When do you have Quidditch practice again?” she says,tilting her head so that she’s looking up at him from under her eyelashes.

“Not until six,” Nathaniel says, his voice thick, sending apleasant shiver up her spine that has nothing to do with the draft.

“All right.” She claps the book in front of her shut, tryingnot to seem too eager. “Walk me to the dormitory?”

~

“Have you noticed that this closet isn’t here most of thetime?”

“That’s what you want to talk about right now? Really?”Rebecca asks, as she shoves Nathaniel inside, quickly following and turning thelatch behind them.

Rebecca does, in fact, know that the closet isn’t usually inthis corridor; she’s done her research on the subject. And as a Room ofRequirement, since all they require is a tiny space with the door that locks,the door will stay locked, Alohomora or not. She sloughs off her bookbag and Nathaniel’s hands are already settling at her waist, fingers splayedwide before curling in, hooked in the waistline of her skirt. She laughs when hespins her around and presses her back against the sturdy door.

“You’re in a hurry,” she teases, not waiting for his answerbefore reaching up and tugging him down by the back of his neck to kiss him.His fingers flex in, one hand sliding low around her back and the other comingup and curling into her hair, shifting to get a better angle, while her handstighten in the crest of his hair and curve around the back of his neck, workingtheir way under his collar.

It’s a familiar motion by now, but it still feels new, asnew as every other spell she learns. She knows it’s the same for him, but inthe other direction: Nathaniel grew up in the Wizarding World, a long line oftraditions behind him and stretching before him, very few of the spells theylearn are unfamiliar to him, but he always touches her like he can’t quitebelieve she exists.

It’s not something she can admit to him, though, not withoutgoing against her own pride. She does like him, terrible awful Slytherin thathe is, and she’s made her peace with that, but anything more would get messy.Besides, he’s made his stance on relationships very clear over the last fewyears: no interest whatsoever. And after the spectacular disasters that wereher relationships with Josh and Greg, respectively, that is fine with Rebecca.Studying with Nathaniel is intellectually stimulating and kissing him in closetsstimulates her in other ways, and that’s all she needs right now, really.

Although, as willing as Nathaniel is to follow her lead mostof the time, he can be annoyingly contrary at times. Like right now, when sheonly wants him as close as possible, her arms tangling around him like she’smistletoe and he’s the tree, he abruptly pulls back. She lets out a whine and triesto tug him back down to her, but for once he resists.

“Why do you want to become an Animagus?”

Of course he asks that now, right when she’s no longer inthe mood to answer it.

“You couldn’t have asked me that in the library?” shemutters, arching her back so that she presses closer into him. A verysatisfying groan claws its way out of his throat, and he mock-glowers down hisnose at her. She smirks, unrepentant.

“And risk Mrs Hernandez overhearing?” he asks. “You don’tthink that wouldn’t get back to the Ministry?”

It’s not a weightless concern; Rebecca suspects Secret Earsare stashed around the stacks so that the librarian can better terrifymisbehaving students by enchanting books to beat them over the head for anypotential violation of library policy. But Rebecca isn’t interested in thatright now, going back up on her toes to nip at Nathaniel’s throat where it isexposed over his collar, the hand around the back of his neck sliding around tothe knot of his tie, starting to work it loose. He groans again, but still leansaway, thwarting her yet again, and this time his hands cup the back of her head,which makes eye contact impossible to avoid.

“Seriously, why?” he asks,his voice low in a way that on any other day would have her shiveringpleasantly, but the question is earnest, and enough to give Rebecca pause.

Nathaniel is a wizard born and bred, and for everything elsethey have in common; he has never known a world without magic, and he cannotpossibly understand her hunger for it.

She looks down and stares hard at his sweater, running herhand thoughtfully across the material, smiling when he twitches inadvertently.She has ways of distracting him, the way she distracts others, the way shedistracted Josh Chan while she was trying to figure out how to be his dreamgirl, the way she distracted her mother from prying too closely into her lifeat Hogwarts by hinting at means to restore youth, even if those attempts neverworked for very long. Even though she was so eager to tell him before, now itseems silly – pointless, even. Nathaniel grew up in the wizarding world, afterall; he would never understand her hunger for it. It was better that he hadn’tasked her before; she doesn’t know why she wanted him to in the first place.

But then the truth unsticks from the back of her throat,some internal force overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands around the back ofher skull and the open questions compelling forward an answer that is true.

“Remember those books I showed you?” she finds herselfsaying. “The ones I used to read as a kid?”

“The ones with that totally incoherent magic system?” heasks, forehead wrinkling, and she stamps down the urge to reach up and smooth themaway with her thumbs and swats him gently on the chest instead.

“Says the guy who read the whole series in a week,” sheteases, aiming for levity. “Well, it’s a series about transformation, right?And, in the Muggle world, the most unambiguously magical thing that you can dois change yourself and do it at your choosing. Right?”

“If you say so,” says Nathaniel doubtfully.

“And people say that the animal you turn into—that sayssomething about who you really are, right? That would be cool. Plus, again, it’sa challenging piece of magic and it would prove that I’m a witch of substanceto everyone – Morgan Le Fay was an Animagus, right? It’s big and dramatic andit’ll prove to her that—”

“That what?” Nathaniel prompts, his voice soft.

“That I’m powerful. That I’m a true witch.”

“Who says you aren’t?”

When she hesitates before answering a second too long,understanding flashes across his face.

“Oh. That.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re still worried about not belonging here?” he asks,frustration that has nothing to do with her hands or her teeth slippingthrough.

Rebecca shrugs uncomfortably, hands fisting in the materialof his sweater, as much of a comfort as to remind herself not to panic, not tolook off into the future. It’s another thing he just has never understood, shereminds herself, to hold herself back. Nathaniel has never known a worldwithout magic. He doesn’t know what it’s like to not see it.

To transform at will is proof that you have control overyourself and no one else can take it away from you. When Rebecca first learnedabout Metamorphmagi, she spent days aflame with jealousy, at the idea thatthere were witches who existed with such a perfect ability to transform into whoeverthey wanted to be. But of course, it couldn’t be learned, it had to be borninto. Even magic could be unfair. But still, there are so many spells thatwould reveal more things to her about herself, if she could just read theirmeanings right. Maybe if she had been born into magic she would understand, butshe wasn’t, so she had to study herself into it instead, take the risks that mostpeople don’t have to.

“There’s a world without magic in it,” she finds herselfsaying. “When I’m not here, I’m stuck there, stuck in Scarsdale, and it feelslike none of this was ever real, because it’s impossible to feel magical whenNaomi Bunch is yelling at you about finding a husband and trying to sneaklaxatives into your food. She’s still freaking out about how she’s going toexplain Hogwarts on my college applications, because, you know, she can’t haveher already-delinquent daughter miss Harvard.”

“But you won’t need that,” he points out, in what probablyseems to be reasonable counterpoint, his thumbs ghosting over her temple.

She gives him a weak smile. “Try telling her that.”

“You’re a witch,” he says firmly. “She can’t change that.”

Intellectually, Rebecca knows that. She has potion recipesmemorized by heart, can understand Transfiguration formulas perfectly with anight of concentrated study. Hell, she can physically manifest her physicalbody in another location near-instantaneously, as proven by her flawless Apparitiontest.

But it always feels like she’s missing something more. Thatshe can’t just be a witch, not if she wants to stay. It’s how she felt chasingJosh Chan, that here was someone who melded both worlds so perfectly, embodiedthem both so effortlessly. Josh never worried that one day he might leave thewizarding world and, upon his return, find that it closed itself to him, and shehad wanted that so badly for herself that it nearly led to both their destruction.

“Unless I am thebest, I have no reason to be here,” she whispers.

She feels, rather than sees his exhale.

“For a smart person, you say really weird things sometimes,”he says. She laughs shakily.

“You think so?” she whispers, desperate to hear hisreasoning. She stares hard at the prefect badge pinned just above his breast,the enamel still new and unmarked and the only real difference from hers isthat it is green, not red. It’s strange; for all of the fights they have hadover the years, for all that she knows that he finds the Muggle world completelyincomprehensible, she has always felt he understands, fundamentally, what she islooking for at Hogwarts. That he is looking for the same thing, using the samemethods, even if he won’t admit it.

Nathaniel looks at her, blue eyes blown dark, lips red andkiss-bitten and slightly parted. He blinks and shakes his head, refocusing.

“I don’t know what it means for you, but…I can’t imagineHogwarts without you,” he says at last, and the sincerity of it sends tendrilsof what can only be elation, white-gold and jittery, coursing through herveins, unfurling at her fingertips and down to her toes.

“It’s good to hear you say it,” she says.

But she’s already promised herself—don’t mix up boys andmagic again, don’t confuse cause and effect, so when she brings her hands up tocup his jaw in turn it’s an unspoken gratitude, but the next words out of hermouth pivot them smoothly away from such sentiments.

“But, remember, this is the last time we can do this.”

“What?”

Rebecca grins at his bafflement, suddenly amused, and smoothsher hands down the front of his robes, more conciliatory than arousing. “Comeon, you’ve read the same books I have – part of the process means that I haveto carry a mandrake leaf under my tongue for a month. Can’t take it out. So,uh, all of this kissing and certain…other activities will have to be on hold.”

The intensity, the uncomfortable intimacy of the momentabruptly shifts into something more familiar as Nathaniel heaves a long sigh,put-out, but not particularly troubled.

“I mean, we could work around that,” he says.

“We could,” she hums in agreement. “But I just thought youshould know what you’re getting into.”

“Of course,” he agrees. “It just means that we better notwaste our time today.”

“Please,” she says, going on her toes again to kiss himproperly, relief at having an ally overpowering the trepidation that whateverdelicate balance exists between them is not sustainable, too easy to transforminto something else without a chance of going back.