#game: hands me a ball of grief and anxiety

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

I can’t believe they finally made a Goron character I actually give a damn about bro I fucking love this guy

[dancingtotuyo]

6. play my bloody part

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You take another step forward. Maria goes into Labor.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (Reader is 42, Joel is 56). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: angst, needles, blood, discussions of selfworth, grief (loss of a spouse), childbirth, graphic descriptions of childbirth, traumatic child birth, hemorrhage, likely very bad medical practices (don't try this at home folks, I am not a medical professional), shock, trauma, anxiety

This chapter is intense!

Notes: Thank you to @janaispunkand @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading this! I appreciate all your comments and feedback, and I love you both so much!

Words: 5507

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

Ellie stops by the clinic a few days later. She stays relatively quiet as you gather supplies. Her eyes track your movements as she swings her legs back and forth from her place on the exam table. You’re not used to her being so quiet.

“Hold out your arm for me?” You give her a reassuring smile.

She listens but seems half a world away. You find a vein with quick precision, letting the blood drip into a glass vial. Your eyes flicker from the collecting blood to her face. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh…” she says. “I guess- why did you agree to do this?”

You cock your head to the side, twisting the top on the vial before you press a cotton ball to the inside of Ellie’s elbow. “You asked. I could at least look at it.”

You press her arm up to hold the cotton there. “Even though you think there’s no point.”

“I never said that.”

Ellie looks you dead in the eye, expression flat. “You thought it. Joel thinks-”

“What does Joel know?” You twist your face, winking at her. A faint smile flashes over her face. “I’m the medical professional here.”

“He talked to Marlene.”

“And Marlene was a doctor? A nurse?”

“No… at least I don’t think so.”

“See, what does she know?” You smile. This time, Ellie actually smiles back. “Now, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you ask me to do this?”

Ellie bites her lip. “I mean if there’s any chance, I have to try right? People could stop dying from this.”

“It’s not your responsibility, you know.”

“What?”

“To save the world.” You say. “It’s not your responsibility.”

“But I’m immune.”

“It’s okay to want to help.” You place the vial in a holder on the counter. The crimson red stands at stark contrast to the sterile-looking clinic. 

“I have to help. I have to do something.” Ellie can’t meet your eyes. “It can’t be for nothing.”

“What can’t be?” You tilt your head to the side. 

Ellie clenches her fist. Her typically assured demeanor is gone, making her look more like the 15-year-old she is. “Ellie?”

She takes a deep, shaky breath, lip quivering slightly. She doesn’t cry, waiting until she’s more assured to answer. “A lot of people died for me. It can’t be in vain.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She’s quick to answer, looking away.

“That’s okay.” You nod slowly. “But Ellie?”

There’s a pause. She sighs deeply. You can see the tears glistening in her eyes now. She’s fighting so hard to keep it all together. “Yeah?”

“Those people, they made a choice to do that. From what Joel’s told me, it sounds like they did that without even asking you first.” 

“What do you mean?”

You hold out a hand in front of her arm, the one with the bites on it. She’s hesitant at first but eventually lets it rest in your palm. You look over the raised skin where the tendrils of fungus are or were. You’re not sure if they’re still there, or if her body just stopped the progression of them. “You get to decide what happens to you, Ellie. Just because you’re immune doesn’t mean doctors or scientists or whatever form of power gets to make decisions for you.” She meets your eyes. You squeeze her hand. “You don’t owe the world anything for just existing.”

She chews on her lip, making you worry that she might draw blood. Her voice is quiet like she’s scared to say the words. “What good am I if there’s no cure?”

“Ellie.” Your heart breaks for her. You want to gather her in your arms and push all the bad thoughts away. You settle for squeezing her hand again “Your value isn’t tied to your immunity. You’re worth something simply because you exist.”

She tries to brush you off, pull away, and not look at you, but you keep a grip on her hand. “Look at me.” You’re stern. She hesitates but listens. You take a deep breath. “I don’t know if it means much coming from me, but you belong here. Here in Jackson, here in the world. You’re not a bother or an inconvenience, and yes, it sucks that we can’t do anything with your immunity, but that’s not your weight to bear. You understand?”

Her chest quivers. She manages a nod as a couple of tears fall from her eyes. You wipe them away. “And you will always, always, always, have a place in my home. Just waltz right in and I’ll set a plate.”

A small laugh falls from her lips. 

“Okay?”

“Okay.” She agrees, a small smile beginning to take over her face. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You smile back. “Now, what do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you still want me to look at it?” You tilt your head toward the vial of blood sitting on the counter. 

She stares at it for a minute, contemplating the answers. “Maybe another day? I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You move away, disposing of the vial. You’re not sure how much weight your words hold, but you feel a little proud of her decision. 

“Are you going to the dance tonight?”

“I guess.” She shrugs. “Dina and Jesse say I have to.”

“Good. You should.”

“Are you and Joel going?”

“Adam beat Joel in Texas Hold ‘Em last night and is making him go.” You laugh a little at the begrudging attitude Joel met you with last night, but a bet is a bet.

“I bet you could get him to dance.”

You laugh a little, images you’d conjured up in your childhood bedroom spring into your mind. They were the daydreams of teenage delusions, but there’s still a little dip of excitement in your stomach at the thought. 

And then you sober up. “I’m not going.”

“If Joel and I are going, you have to come.”

You force a smile. “I don’t go to them anymore.”

“Oh, come on. I bet you’re a great dancer.”

“It’s not about the dancing.” 

“What is it about then?” Ellie wears that goofy little prying grin that’s nothing no short of pure curiosity. If Joel were here. You imagine he’d say her name sternly and give her a look. 

You sigh, keeping a tight smile on your face. “It was something my husband really enjoyed. I haven’t gone since he died.”

“Oh,” Ellie says as the energy shifts. 

“It’s okay, Ellie.” You brush it off. It’s not her fault, and you didn’t have to answer. 

She hesitates, and then she knocks into you, arms flying around your torso, knocking the wind from your abdomen. It takes you by surprise, but it’s a good one. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

And then she’s across the room, grabbing her backpack off the exam table. You can’t help but laugh, wondering how she’s managed to hold onto all that wonder and spunk.  

“You should still come tonight!” Ellie calls before the clinic door slams shut, leaving you with only your thoughts. 

You drop Carter off with Tommy while you walk that night. Maria is on strict bed rest with her due date fast approaching, making them two of only four people not crowded into the Tipsy Bison. You expect to cry on your walk, expect to feel all the emotions that keep you away from the dances, but it doesn’t come even as you round the corner, passing the building that’s overflowing with energy. 

Light flickers across the dimly lit street from moving bodies. The doors and windows are open to let the breeze filter through. A few people congregate outside on the patio with boisterous laughter and animated movements. A couple of folks stumble about, already intoxicated. You stop in your tracks, taking it all in. In the past, you’ve doubled back to forgo passing the festivities, but things are different now. Maybe… maybe you’re a little bit different now too. 

Then you feel it, almost physically, like someone is pressing on your back, leading you toward the door. The people outside don’t pay you much mind, too caught up in their own worlds. The noise grows louder until you’re inside the Tipsy Bison’s doors.

You pass through the room slowly, almost invisible at first. Then you find him, laughing at the bar with Adam. He’s relaxed. An empty whiskey glass sits in front of him and a full one in his hand. He makes a comment to Adam that earns a playful roll of his eyes. He chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls the glass to his lips. His head cocks to the side. Before his lips make contact with the glass, his eyes lock with yours. He stills, a smile crossing his face. He tips the glass toward you and finishes it off. Then, he’s walking toward you with a determination that makes your insides melt and your toes curl in your boots.

His lips dip to your ear. His voice is low and smooth. “I thought you weren’t comin, Darlin.” His Texas drawl is stronger tonight, not helping the heat that grows in your belly. it sends wicked thoughts through your mind. 

You shrug, almost careless about it, but he sees the heat in your eyes. It burns in his too. “Plans change.”

His hand slides around your waist, landing just above your hips. “I like it when your plans change.”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to pull him out of here and into your bed. “Dance with me?”

A grin spreads across his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He pulls you toward the dance floor. The crowd of bodies seems to part like the Red Sea before you, not that your mind can focus on anyone but Joel. He tugs you close as the band starts their rendition of My Girl. Your arms slide around his shoulders, body flush against him. He smiles at you. It’s like something out of a high school movie. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” 

He kisses your forehead, and then your head falls to his chest, eyes blinking closed. It feels like such a sacred moment, it’s hard to believe you’re in a room full of people. Joel sways on beat to the music, humming along. It reminds you of the faint singing that used to drift through your bedroom window at night when he would sit out on his front porch with his guitar and the stars. You spent countless hours sitting under an open window listening to him when you fostered that crush, imagining him singing to you. 

You never imagined you’d be in his arms at the end of the world, in front of the whole town no less, as you fight your growing feelings for him. It sends a kick-start to your system. Not enough to raise a panic attack, or for onlookers to notice, but Joel feels it in the way your muscles tense and your body straightens in his arms. Your eyes pop open and you catch it- the rumor mill turning. Whispers pass behind shielded hands between pairs throughout the room. Some of them are audacious enough to make contact with you or send a wink your way.

Joel’s breath hits your ear again. “Wanna give them something to really talk about, Sweetheart?”

You look up at him, brows furrowed. He stops swaying, both hands cupping your cheeks. Your breath catches. It feels like the whole room’s does, and then his lips are on you, hot and searing and nowhere near chaste. Joel Miller never struck you as the PDA type, but this feels like more. He’s staking his claim on you, telling them all to shove it. Everyone is here. Everyone can see what’s happening for themselves. For all intents and purposes, this is the night Joel Miller becomes yours in the eyes of the community. You’re off limits, and so is he, and it feels good. There are no words, no spoken acknowledgment of anything, just his actions. 

He pulls away, leaving you slightly stunned and hazy. He chuckles. Spinning you around and then pulling you in as the song ends. People clap around you, for the band of course, but you can only look at Joel with a smile that shines like crystal. 

Another song starts back up. Another wave of people join the dance floor. People seem disinterested in the very thing that held them captive moments ago. Joel looks like he is two seconds away from dragging you out of the bar as you stare at each other, unmoving. 

Tommy runs in, breath ragged and hair a mess. His eyes dart around until they land on you. He calls your name, running toward you. “Tommy, what’s wrong?”

“Maria’s in labor.”

Whatever trance Joel put you under is gone as years of experience snap into place. You turn to him. “Will you grab my clinic key and get the green bag?”

“Of course.” Joel nods and then Tommy grabs your hand, dragging you to the house. Ellie and Joel are not far behind. 

Maria is pacing the guest room when you get there, letting out small groans. Like everything else, Maria handles childbirth with grace and dignity- something you wish you could’ve done. 

You shake the memories from Carter’s birth from your mind. It’s mostly a blur- what you remember from that day haunts you. You were a mess- inconsolable. There was no grace or dignity in it. 

“How far apart are your contractions?”

“Hello to you too.” She pops a smile. Your tight lips don’t budge. She sighs. “About three minutes.”

“Three minutes? Maria!”

She waves you off. “You were never more than two minutes away.”

“We agreed on five.”

“I changed my mind.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re a shit patient.”

“I’ve been on bed rest for two weeks, have I not?”

You quirk an eyebrow. She may not have left the house, but you’re not convinced she was following the rest of your instructions. 

She waves you off like it’s nothing. “I heard you were at the Tipsy Bison.”

You shoot her a glare. “You are literally on the verge of having a baby, Maria. My social life is unimportant.”

“I can still talk in labor.”

“Not about this.”

“Oh come on, I’m going to be here all night. Might as well entertain me.” She grins. 

“No. Now let me check your cervix.”

Maria sighs, sitting on the bed. “I think we’re too close as friends.”

Maria’s labor moves quickly. Before midnight, the baby is crowning. You’re coaching Maria through it as Tommy stays by her side, offering what support he can. Maria lets out low moans as she works through contractions, bearing down when you say. Sweat dampens her brow. She’s tired but determined. “How much longer?”

You meet her eyes, giving her an encouraging smile. “You’re almost there. One or two more, Okay?”

She nods, and then another contraction hits. You feel them in your hands, guiding the newest member of Jackson, Wyoming into the world. There’s a long pause, there always is, you never get used to it, you’re quick to clear airways, and then he takes a deep breath, and tiny little wails fill the room.

Relief fills Maria’s eyes and looks of awe and wonder fill the couple’s faces. You can’t help but let out a joyful little laugh. “It’s a boy.”

You place him on Maria’s chest. The proud parents crowd around him, their voices softening, pitching up as they soak in their first moments of a family of three. 

“Tommy, you wanna cut the cord?”

He nods. You show him where to do it, and then he’s right back at Maria’s side, caressing his son’s head. 

“He’s got so much hair,” Tommy says. Tears gather in the new parents’ eyes. 

You’re quiet as you tidy up. Before you slip out, Maria grabs your hand. “Thank you.”

You smile at your best friend. “Of course. Anything for y’all.” She squeezes your hand and you return the gesture. “I’ll give you a few minutes and then be back in to finish up.”

She nods. You wash your hands in the hall bathroom, shedding the soiled apron you wear. Joel greets you when you come out. He raises his eyebrows. “I heard crying, and it sure as hell wasn’t Tommy.”

You laugh. “It’s a boy.”

You see Joel’s happiness for his brother on his face before the big smile ever crosses it. He wraps his arms around you. You lean in, laying your head on his chest. His heart beats beneath your ear steady as a drum. The stress you’ve been carrying for months over this day starts to dissipate from your body. It’s here. He’s here. It happened. You made it through. 

Tommy peaks his head out. “Maria says she’s ready for you.”

You nod. Joel kisses your head and you pull away, warm energy thrumming in your veins. Maria looks almost annoyed when she sees you, knowing what’s coming. 

“He have a name yet?”

“No,” Tommy looks pointedly at his wife. “She swore we were having a girl. Wouldn’t even discuss boys’ names.”

Maria rolls her eyes, making you laugh. “Tommy, go make yourself useful and get me some water.” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Tommy chuckles, the grin unwipable from his face. His hand runs over his son’s head before he leaves. 

Maria shifts slightly, careful not to disturb the sleeping infant at her side. She lets out a soft hiss.”

“You good?”

“Yeah, you know how it is. Pretty sure the placenta is already out.”

You nod, kneeling at the end of the bed. You’re relieved to see the placenta delivered, fully intact. There’s some bleeding, but no more than what you’d expect. Another relief. “We should get Tommy in here to move you back to your room. How do fresh sheets sound?”

“Like a slice of heaven.” She smiles. 

You move Maria to their room, Tommy sweeping her into his arms like a groom would carry his wife on their wedding night. They throw baby names back and forth as they cross the hall. You carry the baby, swaddled and sleeping. Once he’s tucked into his mother’s arms, you set to work cleaning up. It’s always the hardest part as the adrenaline fades from your bones. Tommy and Maria’s bickering floats across the hallways as you do, making you laugh. This baby may never get named at the rate they’re going. 

The first time Tommy calls out your name. It doesn’t register. The second time is much more urgent and he’s in the doorway of the guest room. He’s gone pale, breathing heavily. 

Your stomach drops. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s bleedin. It’s soaked through the towel.”

“Shit.” You drop what’s in your hand, grabbing your bag of supplies. 

Tommy is at Maria’s side. You lift the blanket and your heart drops. You glance back up at Maria. She looks tired. You’d expect it, but this feels different. “How do you feel?”

“Like I just had a baby.” She tries to joke, but it falls flat. She knows this is bad too. “A little lightheaded.”

There’s another gush of blood. A clot that’s bigger than it should be. “Fuck, Fuck, fuck.” Your breathing turns ragged. There’s too much blood and more appears bringing another large clot with it. She’s hemorrhaging. 

“What should I do?” Tommy asks. He’s panicking. 

“Go get Joel.” Tommy tries to protest. You cut him off. “Get Joel back in here.” You leave no room for debate, but he still hesitates. “Now!” 

He finally listens. Maria locks eyes with you. She knows. You see the fear in her eyes, and it knocks the breath out of you. You’ve never seen Maria scared. She’s always so sure and sturdy, but not now. Her skin has gone dull, losing its typical vibrance, like the life is slowly draining from her.  You want to sit on the floor and weep, but you have to push through. “Deep breaths, Maria. I need you to stay as calm as possible.”

You dig through your bag, pulling out everything you need. 

Joel is barely across the threshold when you direct him to the chair next to the bed. He doesn’t have time to ask questions. He knows it’s best not to. “You promise you’re O negative?”

“Yes, why?” He hardly gets the words out before you clean his arm with high-proof moonshine and insert the needle in his vein. He winces. You’re efficient, ensuring there’s no air in the tube before inserting the other end into Mari’s arm. You glance down at your watch, noting the time. 

“Keep your arm elevated. If you start to get dizzy, you tell me.” You’re stern. You leave no room for argument. Joel watches as his blood flows through the short plastic tube connected to Maria. 

You have no idea if this will work. She’s probably losing blood too fast and the risk of complications looms in your mind, but you’ve never had someone survive a hemorrhage like this before. It’s your only hope and you will do everything within your power to keep Maria on this earth. 

Maria stays as quiet as she can. She’s focused on her son, memorizing everything about him, so you focus on saving her life. 

“What’s happening?” Tommy stays in the doorway. You don’t turn around. You can’t stop what you’re doing. You have to stop the bleeding. It’s the only thing on your mind now. “Tell me what’s happening to my wife!”

“She’s trying to save your wife’s life!” Joel snaps. “Let her do her job.”Joel keeps his eyes pinned to you. 

“Tommy,” Maria says. “Come here.” Her voice is weak and raspy. You have to push it out of your mind. If you don’t, you’ll break. You can’t break right now. 

Tommy kneels next to Maria and his son. He’s caressing both their heads. You’re sure he’s crying. You’re not convinced you’re not crying too, but you’re too preoccupied to take stock of it. 

You know when she goes unconscious, but you don’t hear anything from Tommy. The room is so silent as you rotate between massaging Maria’s uterus and packing it. You’re running out of semi-sterile material. Has the bleeding slowed down? How long has this been going on? It feels like a lifetime. You can’t spare a second to look at your watch. 

Joel’s arm drops a little. It’s getting tired. “Keep your arm higher than her head.” You spare a look at Joel only because it pertains to Maria’s health. “Stand if you have to, but slowly.” 

The blood loss appears to be slowing down, but you don’t. You keep going and going and going, until you’re sure it’s stopped. Then, you just sit there and wait. Tommy wants to demand answers, but Joel glares him into silence. 

You dare you to step back. You’re on autopilot, the adrenaline wearing off long ago. You check her heartbeat and her blood pressure. Neither is great, but it could be worse. You dare to hope you’ve seen the worst of it. 

Joel stumbles forward a little bit, catching himself on the bed frame. 

“Shit.” You rush over to his side, guiding him back into the chair. 

“I'm fine, I’m fine.” He brushes you off, making sure his arm is still raised. You see the shake of it. 

You check your watch. It takes you longer than it should to do the math. “Fuck, you’ve been hooked up for too long.” 

Joel stops your hand before it can pull. “No, no. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re done.” 

“No, Maria… she’s not awake yet… she-” Tommy stands up.

“She’s not waking up.” You face him.

 He loses any color he has left, panic-stricken across his face. “What?”

“Fuck,” you cringe. “I mean tonight, Tommy. She’s not waking up tonight. She needs to rest.”

“So she’s going to be okay?” 

You want to assure him. You look at their newborn baby sleeping in the bassinet in the corner. You don’t know when he was moved and it doesn’t matter. You want to promise Tommy that he’s not going to be a widower, that their son won’t be motherless, but you can’t. 

“I don’t think she’s going to die from blood loss anymore.”

It’s a small assurance, but it’s all you have to give. When you attempt to remove the needle from Joel’s arm this time, he lets you. The bandage feels so delicate and small compared to the trauma you just dealt with. You struggle with it. Joel takes over for you. 

“You need food, something to drink,” you say. 

“I’ll get it,” Joel says. 

You push him back into the chair. “You’re in no condition to walk downstairs.”

“Neither are you.” He says, eyes traveling over your frame. 

You furrow your brow. You don’t understand. You don’t see or feel the blood that dresses you, not yet 

“Ellie!” Joel yells. 

It’s a stark contrast to the quiet encapsulating the room. You hear her footsteps up the stairs. She enters, eyes going wide. She surmised something wasn’t right, but the copious amounts of blood are startling. “Holy shit.”

“Will you bring up some food? Water?” Joel looks to you to confirm. 

“Fruit.” 

Joel nods. “And then take Carter home?”

“I should-” you go to say. 

“No.” Joel cuts you off. He takes your hand, thumb running over your knuckles. “Not tonight.” 

Ellie nods. She knows now is not the time for the many questions running through her mind. “Yeah, of course.” 

Tommy clears his throat, still searching for answers. You sigh. “I can’t promise anything, Tommy. There’s still so much that could happen, but she’s strong.” 

“I know how strong my wife is. I need to know that she’ll be okay.” He’s still pushy and you don’t blame him. You’re all on edge. 

“I don’t know!” The world blurs before you. “The risk of infection is high, she- she could have complications from-” Your chest rattles. Joel’s hand settles on your back. Tommy can’t look at you. “She’s my best friend, Tommy. I’m doing everything I can.”

Tommy nods. He knows it’s true, but he’s scared. This is Maria. She keeps Jackson going. She keeps you going. 

Ellie brings up the food. She wants to do more, you can see it in her eyes. You can’t pull the words out anymore. 

“Thank you, kiddo,” Joel says. 

Ellie makes a face at the name. She shoves a strawberry in Joel’s face. “Eat this, you look like a ghost.” 

“Carter?” You ask.

“Passed out on the couch,” Ellie smiles proudly. You need the relief, you just hate that the 15-year-old bears that responsibility. “Glad he’s potty trained.” 

“Thank you, Ellie.” 

She nods at you. There’s some hesitation like she might wrap her arms around you for a second time that day. Was that really only hours ago? But she ducks out of the room instead. 

You make sure Tommy and Joel eat. You’re amazed that the newborn still sleeps. His chest rises and falls and from your check-up, he seems to be healthy. You check Maria’s blood pressure and heart rate again. It hasn’t gotten worse. 

You clean up as best you can without jostling Maria too much. Tommy joins in, working silently alongside you. Much to his displeasure, you make Joel stay seated. It’s another long silence before you’re finished. 

��Sweetheart, you need to go home.”

You’re dead on your feet. Your arms feel like lead at your sides. It’s so apparent in all of your movements, but you don’t feel like you can leave her side. Fear flares up in Tommy’s eyes and then he takes in your appearance. 

“He’s right,” Tommy says. 

You intend to put up a fight, but it doesn’t happen. You feel the exhaustion in every fiber of your being. You’re not sure you won’t collapse at any minute. 

You pull out a bottle of antibiotics. Maria would hitch a fit you know, but you don’t care. You’ll do anything you can to make sure she recovers, and you can’t keep the medicine forever. It’s going to be fancy water eventually if it isn’t already. You hand the bottle to Tommy with careful instructions. “If her breathing changes, or she starts bleeding, come get me immediately.” 

He nods. “Of course.”

“We’ll stop at Paul and Lindsey’s, she’s still breastfeeding. Little man is going to want to eat any minute.” 

Tommy nods. Joel’s arms come around you, supporting you from behind. Your legs attempt to fold but you regain your balance with his help. Glancing between Tommy and Maria, the urge to stay inflames again, but Joel is leading you out of their home before you have time to comprehend it. 

He leaves you on the front steps, approaching Paul and Linsey’s on his own. You’re worried about him, sure he gave too much of his blood tonight, but he comes back a few minutes later.

Joel leads you through your house. You want to collapse into bed at first sight, but he tugs you back. “Shower first.”

The small protest dies on your lips the moment you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You look like you have stepped out of a horror film. You don’t even recognize yourself. Blood, Maria’s blood, coats your shirt and arms. Smudges streak your cheeks. Some of it’s in your hair. It’s endless. Your body begins to shake. You don’t think it’ll ever stop. You lean against the vanity for a semblance of stability. It’s useless. You stare at it all, taking it in, but it doesn’t look like you. It’s like you’re in some faraway space floating around, not connected to your body.

Joel tears your shirt down the back. He’s quick and gentle about it. Your bra is next. He slips off your shoes and then your pants until you’re completely naked. Steam fills the room. Blood soaked through your clothes in some places, painting your skin like modern art. Joel backs you into the shower with ease. You’re pliable, muscles turned to liquid. 

Hot water cascades over your body, flooding your eyes. It’s suffocating until Joel pushes your hair out of your face, redirecting the water with his hands. His fingers massage at your scalp over and over. He adds soap to your hair, pulling it through until the grime and blood are gone. 

There are no noises, no tears, but you can’t stop the shaking. You must look pitiful standing under the water like a limp doll as you lose control of your body. 

Joel scrubs your body clean, and then he does it a second time for good measure. When he finishes, his fingers trail up your arms and neck until he cups your cheeks firmly. Your eyes finally focus on his, pulling you back into yourself with a thud. You feel it all at once, his hands on you, the rawness on your skin, the hot water pounding down on you. Joel sees it happen, his hands slide under your arms as your knees give way. The tears fall. Your back hits the cool tiles. Joel presses against your front, keeping you up. 

Finally, tears wet your cheeks. Sobs leave your chest, and your brain spirals through it all: Maria okay one minute and bleeding out the next. The fact that it stopped was little comfort now. So much could still go wrong, and you can’t lose Maria. She’s your rock, probably the only reason you’re alive today. Losing her would be harder than losing Gabe. 

If she dies, it’s your fault because you couldn’t save her.

Your chest constricts with a tight, wheezing inhale. The tears stop as you struggle to breathe. Joel takes your hand, laying it over his chest. “Breathe, I’ve got you, Sweetheart.” 

He models it. You see and feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. His hand stays over yours until the ache in your chest eases and the water runs cold. 

Joel picks you up, tugs a soft shirt over your head, and crawls into bed behind you. He’s solid and warm against your back. You’re locked against him. His fingers dance across your stomach, lips brush against your ear. You lean into him. In such a short time, he’s come to know you so well. Maria is your rock, but Joel is your support. He tore down your walls like cheap construction and built a fucking shelter to keep you warm. You let your brain take you away before the rest of it can sink in because loving Joel Miller would be wonderful, but losing him would kill you.  

He whispers in your ear. “What do you want?” 

Your eyes won’t stay open anymore between the exhaustion and Joel clouding your senses. 

“Stay,” you fumble out. You don’t know if it’s decipherable but it works. 

For the first time, Joel stays the night in your bed. 

[updownlately]

stay a minute (let my troubled heart rest)

| leah williamson x reader | hurt/comfort | 1.9k | a/n: another fic based off another song in another language :) this song's dear to me, one of my faves and i just had this idea while listening to a slow version of it. didn't edit this as much as i would've liked to but oh well... hope y'all like it!

~~~

Nights like these had a special place in your heart.

A tranquil atmosphere blanketed your shared apartment, ignorant of the UWCL semi-finals game you and Leah had played in today. 

The emotions of the game had long worn off, excitement, joy, anxiety, pain, all vanishing the second the pair of you had entered the apartment, takeout in hand a mere few hours ago.

Since then, you both had made base in the living room, Love Island playing on the tv, Leah enthralled by the show, a welcome distraction from the failures of the day.

The room itself was dark, save for the flashes of light from the screen illuminating the nearby area. You were cuddled up against Leah under a blanket, empty takeaway containers and dishes littering your coffee table, the warmth of each other's body more enticing than the prospect of a pristine apartment.

You hadn't been as interested in the show as your counterpart, instead opting to let yourself snuggle further into her chest, fingers tracing over the veins in her forearm, wandering over her lover tattoo as she focused on the screen ahead, her other arm silently wrapping around your waist, holding you closer. 

Ever since the pair of you had come home, few words had been said, eyes communicating everything you didn't need words to. Between showering again to wash off the tension in your sore bodies to changing into each other's hoodies and sweats soundlessly, letting the scent of each other bring you both home, a comfortable silence enveloped the pair of you, wrapping you cozily.

The game hadn't gone how you had wanted it to, the loss no doubt hitting you both immensely. Yet, in this moment, the grief of the defeat was quietly being washed away, the waves of your lover's tenderness quietly cleansing your heart, misery flowing like a river out of your soul. 

Taking a deep breath in, you willed the assault of negative thoughts in your head to go away. You knew you had quite a few missed opportunities to put the ball in the back of the net, nothing seeming to work in your favour though. Even worse, you know there were a few instances that you had made a few poor decisions, but with the game long gone, no results to be changed, you willed yourself to focus on the present, on being in your girl’s arms, safe and loved.

Entranced in your own musings, eyes closing, preoccupied by the calming heartbeat of the English captain, you failed to notice her attention resting upon you.

Leah wasn't happy with the result herself, heart aching at the conclusion that the prospect of being Champions League finalists was once again just barely out of reach. She was familiar with this feeling, friendly with despair, accustomed to wishing she had just given it a little bit more effort, yearning for a different outcome. Still, even as miserable as she felt, it seemed that it all wiped itself away the second you made yourself comfortable in her arms.

As soon as the pair of you had changed, you hadn’t wasted a second before tugging Leah over to the couch, fluffiest blanket in the house in your other hand. You had sat her down, a gentle stare threatening her to stay before you had warmed and plated the food for both of you. 

Immediately settling right beside Leah upon your return, shoulders millimetres apart, you had both silently ate dinner, knowing the faintest of touches would calm the other. 

Post dinner, the pair of you hadn’t separated, you only moving to better snuggle against Leah, hoping your body warmth would comfort the blonde.

And it worked. Unbeknownst to you, while the weight on Leah’s chest hadn't lifted from earlier, her breaths did come a tad bit easier now, the rock in her throating shrinking slightly. 

Yet, just thinking of the game brought another wave of sadness to the central-back's mind though, her arm tightening its grip on you, unknowingly seeking the comfort only you could provide. 

She couldn’t help but replay each tiny mistake in her head. The way certain passes didn’t connect, how a few tackles were just terribly mistimed, how she should’ve done better. The thoughts were battering her mind, a rush of frustration stifling her calming mood.

Eyes beginning to dampen, Leah held a shaky breath back, hoping you wouldn't notice the way her chest shook ever so faintly. 

She should've known better than to doubt your love for herself however.

To you, the change in Leah's demeanour was immediately noticeable, the shiver running through her chest an earthquake to you, quickening heartbeat just as easily distinguishable. 

Quietly and carefully, you shifted in her hold, your own arms reaching to grasp hers, pulling her up gently, bringing you both into a sitting position. 

You situated yourself in her lap, straddling her but being careful to avoid putting too much pressure on her thighs, knowing they'd likely be sore. Letting your knees do the work instead, you smiled as Leah gently clutched either side of your waist, silently steadying you, ensuring you wouldn't fall. 

Bringing your own hands up, you let yourself trace her fingers on your sides. Skimming your touch up the length of her arms, pausing for a second on her shoulders, long enough to just gently let your fingertips kiss the nape of her neck, your eyes scanned her face, taking note of the barely visible hints of hurt hidden in her eyes.

Eventually carrying on, you let your hand tenderly run up her neck, coming to rest across either side of her face, digits fanning her cheeks. You knew that she was beating herself up mentally, you both were. It was the way you both worked. It’s why you worked well together, differently similar, aware of the depths of self-anguish that each other’s minds could reach.

Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, you felt the first of her tears fall onto your arms, a slow trickle of a few following soon after. 

Leaving another affectionate peck between her eyebrows, right where the creases in her forehead tended to form when she was unhappy, you remained put, lips ghosting the spot you had just kissed. You gave her a minute, knowing quite well that she needed some calm before you checked in on her.

You knew you both were hurting, would be for a while too, yet you hoped that in this moment, your presence could comfort the woman you loved, erase her pain even if only for the time being.

The two of you rested together for a little while, arms wrapped around the other, each holding your own world in your arms. 

Eyes closed, basking in the moment, in the anguish you two were undoubtedly sharing, you let your love fill the voids your pain had torn open.

It was only when Leah's breath hitched for a second time, that you opened your eyes, the gentle sniffles confirming what you already knew.

Pulling back just a tad bit, you directed the blonde to look up at you, lifting her chin with your hands. Your thumbs gently swiped the few falling tears away resting ready to catch the few new ones that joined the descent down as well.

Kissing her again, this time on her lips, her soft tears not ceasing to fall, you hoped that your heart could tell her everything no words could ever say. 

You prayed that she understood that you were going to be with her every step of the way, through all the good and the bad. You wished that she knew that if you could, if you so absolutely could, you wouldn't hesitate to take her grief and let it make home in your heart instead. You desired to be able to show her just how miserable you would be without her by your side, how vital she was to your being, to your existence, her the oxygen that you so desperately craved, needed.

You longed to show her how much you loved her, how if the world was in your hands, she'd never spend another day miserable, never have to hold an ounce, a gram, of grief in her heart ever again. You wished that you could explain to her how much she meant to you, in this moment, and every in the past and those that would come in the future. Yet you couldn't, unable to quantify just how deep your love ran for her, how deep you were willing to cut yourself just to see her smile.

So instead you settled for your kisses, inwardly pleading that they would be enough to rest her heart. 

Kiss after chaste kiss, you both ignored the salty taste of tears on your tongues, letting your pain quietly bleed you dry and tired. 

Only breaking apart to catch your breaths, you looked into Leah's eyes, the dim lighting not weak enough to hide the tiredness that hid behind.

Slowly climbing out of her lap, you kept your gaze on Leah as you reached for the remote. 

Switching off the tv and tossing your long forgotten blanket to the side, you tugged on your lover's arm, urging her to follow you. She silently agreeing, her trust in you unwavering.

Letting herself be led, Leah padded softly behind you, quiet footsteps placed in the wake of your passing ones.

And when you gently sat her on the bed, sharing a sweet kiss before quickly exiting the room, Leah waited patiently for your return.

She could hear you make quick work of locking up the house, the gentle slams of windows being shut and the sound of two waters being poured, before the house went silent, save for your hushed footfalls.

Returning, you placed the waters down on either side before quietly sidling up next to Leah. 

Reaching your hands out, you waited for her to intertwine her own before climbing over to your side of the bed, drawing Leah with you.

Letting go briefly, you carefully brought the covers of you both, before once again, pulling her into your arms. 

You wrapped your arms around Leah once more, her head tucking into the crook of your neck, your hand in her hair, gently scratching her scalp. Your bodies were intertwined, not a hair of space between you two, the feeling of each other’s body providing the comfort you both craved.

You knew you couldn’t take away the sorrow that plagued her right now, no matter how much you wanted. So instead, you hoped your presence would be enough to calm her troubled heart, holding her tighter, kissing her softly, loving her forever.

Closing your eyes, the pair of you drifted off not too long after, misery finding sweet company in each other's pain, hearts finding tender love in each other's arms. 

With each other in close proximity, never more than a touch away, you both knew that every grief would pass and each joy would be cherished.

Pain would never not burrow itself in the cracks of each other's heart, but you knew you'd both let your love for the other help the fissures carefully heal.

Now and for years to come, the pair of you would always be there for one another, sharing comfort, care, and love.

So for now, you'd settle for this moment, hoping your presence would say everything words couldn't and your arms could provide a safe space for her troubled heart to rest.

[jeongyunhoed]

As seen on my FF.net Also seen on my Ao3

Following the events of fifth year, a new adventure awaits for Norah Lee. Boys, exams, school events, common room parties, and old foes outside of Hogwarts. Even battling pensieve guardians was easier than this.

Main Pair: OC / Ominis Gaunt Genre: Adventure/Angst/Fluff (it's a little of everything, tbh)

KEEP IN MIND: Characters are aged up (even if the story's got them in sixth year) to make it more appropriate. Time period is leaning towards the modern day so in case you might find anachronisms in the dialogue or references, this is why. This may also be quite a lengthy fic too.

BE WARNED: Social anxiety, mentions of blood and injury, grief, drinking, kissing but nothing more than that, death (this is Hogwarts Legacy, after all)

P.P.S: Mutual pining ahead! Also Amit revealing his thoughts about his romantic situation, Ominis and Norah being idiots. Oh yeah, Norah's dress is inspired by the raven queen gown by Linda Friesen.

Masterlist

Chapter 19

It was the day of the Hufflepuff common room party, and the students were undoubtedly livelier. Including the sixth-years, who once again had the opportunity to really let loose and have fun. But as the Yule Ball drew near, many of the students left to go shopping for dresses and dress robes. The lines outside of Gladrags were long that it filled up the space of Dervish and Banges and outside.

As for Norah, she was in Diagon Alley, having stepped out of Gringotts to withdraw the money her father gave her. Compared to Hogsmeade, the waiting in Madam Malkin's wasn't as long, perhaps as it was all the way in London. This time around, her visit to Diagon Alley was different, and it was definitely due to her recent award. Norah had shaken hands with several shopkeepers and customers at the Apothecary and the Owl Emporium while she bought some more owl treats for Starlight along with other potion ingredients.

Seeing as Madam Malkin's was full and that it would take her the whole day to wait, she saw the quiet Second-Hand Robes wasn't as crowded. Norah entered the shop, seeing a few other students with their parents picking out some dress robes for the ball. Her presence seemed to make the students among them whisper and glance as she approached the nearest rack of robes to see if anything caught her fancy.

She could always wear Herodiana's ensemble, she thought as she skimmed through the rack, nothing catching her attention. If not, she could always use something from here to pair with whatever attire she found, which was stocked away in the Room of Requirement. She found a midnight blue cloak, the fabric felt soft to the touch, and it gave her an idea. After paying for it, she hurried to the nearest floo flame going back to Hogwarts.

As she reappeared at the North gate, she saw Henry on his next round of non-verbal Summoner's Court, this time with Samantha. Natty was also watching nearby, talking animatedly to Poppy and Andrew.

"How's the game going so far?" Norah approached them just as Henry was about to make his turn for his third and final ball.

Samantha grinned. "He's doing quite well," She glanced at the blonde, looking impressed. "But don't count me out yet!"

"Non-verbal's hard!" Henry pointed out, seeing four balls already on the ground. "Where have you been anyway?" He turned back to his ball, trying to concentrate.

Norah waited until he cast his non-verbal summoning, seeing the ball move a little too fast but stopping just at the edge of the 50-point mark. Henry breathed a sigh of relief, while Samantha suddenly looked determined.

"Diagon Alley, just picked up something for my Yule Ball outfit," Norah held up the bag that had the cloak.

"Outfit? Grace said a package arrived for you in the Astronomy tower. Amit was kind enough to drop it off when your owl dropped it in the Owlery, at least that's what he told her," Henry looked over at her, lowering his voice at the mention of Amit which Norah felt was because Samantha was near.

Norah raised a brow, realizing that her parents had likely received her letter. She almost forgot about meeting with Amit to talk about what had been happening with him, Nellie, and Samantha. Hurriedly waving to Natty and the rest, she took the floo flame to the Astronomy tower, where she saw Amit huddled over the telescope.

"Amit? I'm sorry I know we were supposed to talk in the room," She said, making him flinch in surprise. "Sorry..."

Amit shook his head profusely. "Nothing to apologize for, I kind of forgot about it too until I passed by the room," He said. "Where did you go?"

"Diagon Alley, I picked up a nice cloak for my Yule Ball dress, or at least I hope it goes with it," Norah said. "You want to talk about it now? at least before the party later?"

The Ravenclaw boy nodded, and followed her down the stairs into the room. Leading Amit into the separate room while leaving Deek to tidy up in the vivariums, Norah pulled the curtains that served to cover the room from the stairs that connected them to where her potions and plants were.

In time for the party, the vanity drawers were already set up along with multiple changing partitions. On the small desk was a package that Norah remembered was for her. Deek must have taken it upon himself to bring it inside. Amit sighed as he sat on the nearby chair, while Norah observed him, crossing her arms. "Alright, Amit, we're in a private space. What's going on?"

Amit buried his face in his hands. "Where do I even start?" He mumbled, ruffling his own hair out of frustration. "So, I guess you must have heard from Garreth that Nellie told me of her-"

"Feelings for you? Yeah, he did," Norah recalled with a nod, leaning against the table with the package. "Samantha likes you too. But what's not known is how you feel about it? Two girls like you."

"I know," He groaned. "It's just-I don't know. I mean Samantha's really great to be with, but Nellie's just different. They're both different."

"Amit Thakkar, are you thinking of dating both of them at the same time?!" Norah gaped, partly trying to tease him to lighten the mood.

"Of course not! That wouldn't be right!" Amit shook his head, his cheeks turning pink. "It wasn't just a confession that I got from Nellie at the Gryffindor party..."

"She kissed you?" Norah asked, and he slowly nodded. "And... Samantha caught you?" Amit nodded again. "So...that means you like Samantha more than Nellie?"

"I-I don't know," Amit looked down. "She is pretty, yes, but I don't know. I've never been this overwhelmed before, well, aside from our mine trip."

Norah tried to wrap her head around his explanation. "You like Samantha but not enough to say that you like her? Yet you feel guilty because Nellie kissed you?...Did you kiss her back?"

The question seemed to make Amit stare at his friend. "Kiss her back?"

"Yeah? I mean, if Nellie kissed you, did you... you know?" She shrugged. "...Or do I ask Samantha about this?"

As Norah was about to turn around, Amit grabbed her wrist and shook his head. "No, please don't, I don't think I'll hear the end of it," He said, letting her wrist go. "Samantha's going to know I talked to you about this."

Norah was still confused. "But if Nellie kissed you but Samantha caught you, did you try and explain to Samantha what happened?" She asked, brows furrowed.

"I did, the morning after, during breakfast, but she didn't want to hear the explanation," He reasoned.

"Merlin," Norah was in disbelief. "This is a lot more complicated than I thought. But if you don't make up your mind soon, you'll lose both of them. Then again, your reluctance to even choose may already be a sign that you're not ready for a relationship and you're afraid of saying it."

"That might be it," Amit stared at her. "I guess-I guess I need more time. We've got NEWT exams, and I really like hanging out with all of you, a relationship is something I don't find important at the moment. I'm not like Henry, who can juggle a relationship, being a prefect, and schoolwork, and before you and I met, I was used to being at the back, and I was perfectly fine with it. And then you and I became friends and it hasn't been the same since."

"Sorry," She looked apologetic.

"Nothing to be sorry about. You've changed my life when we went into the mine. All of a sudden I'm popular, people know me and think I'm cool, it's been a bit too much to take in," Amit shook his head. "And before you ask, I don't mean this all in a bad way."

Norah sat down on the chair across from him, hands fumbling with the string that tied up the entire package in front of them. "If it helps, I never asked for all of this to happen," She said quietly. "I never asked to be a hero."

"I know," He agreed. "It's been overwhelming, that's all."

"Then," Norah sat back. "What are you going to do? You have to tell them."

"That, I know too. Perhaps I'm a lot more scared than I thought."

"Might want to consider telling them later at the party. I just saw Samantha, she was playing the next round of Summoner's Court with Henry when they told me about this," Norah tapped the box.

Amit nodded. "Thanks. I just have to muster up the courage of a Gryffindor and do it."

"You're a lot braver than you think," Norah pointed out with a soft smile. "I should know," She stood back up and untied the string, carefully removing the wrapping paper that covered an elaborate box. Conjuring a mannequin, Norah opened the box to find a long powder blue tulle ball gown with silvery-gray flowery lace appliques on the shoulders. It looked regal, even more so when Norah fitted the gown over on the mannequin. "Wow..."

Amit also looked in awe. "That's what you'll be wearing to the ball?"

"Mhmm," Norah felt the sleeves. "I even got a really nice cloak to go with it," She picked up the card at the bottom. It was from her parents, having bought it at a boutique. With her gown on display along with her cloak, she turned to her friend. "So, I guess this means you plan on attending the Yule Ball by yourself?"

"Perhaps. I don't want to assume that, though. Maybe by then I'll figure out what to do," Amit shrugged. "Thank you for talking about this with me."

Norah shrugged. "It's just me being a friend."

"Right," Amit felt assured. "I have a friend," He looked out the window, seeing how the sun was going to set. "What do you think's going to happen later?"

"A party's what's going to happen. If you don't feel like going, you're perfectly welcome to stay here," Norah suggested. "Actually, I'm having second thoughts now on whether I'm going later."

It was making her think about Ominis. If he showed up at the Hufflepuff party, she wasn't sure if she could stand seeing him maybe approach whoever it was that he had his eye on in case it wasn't Anne that he had feelings for.

Later, Norah and Natty, along with the boys, were getting ready for the party that night. As Norah changed into something a little similar to what she wore in the previous party, she kept thinking about what Amit said to her. She made sure to keep her Yule Ball dress a secret for now, keeping it in one of the cupboards of the extended room in the Room of Requirement.

She changed his life in a way he didn't expect. As she remembered him saying while they were in the mine, this was more than what he bargained for. Even though Amit made clear that it wasn't bad, Norah couldn't help but feel guilty. She wondered if Natty actually felt that way since they met, or if Sebastian or even Ominis thought about it.

"I heard you already got your dress for the Yule Ball," Natty suddenly said as she did her makeup.

The comment made Norah snap out of her thoughts as she slipped on her jacket and parted her hair differently. "I did. My parents sent me a gown, and the rest of you will have to see it at the ball itself," She grinned.

"Alright, I'm sure people will be blown away at the sight of you by then," Natty teased as she got up from the chair. "I already got mine last week, you really have to see it soon! I can't wait to see the look on Henry's face."

The mention of the Ravenclaw boy made Norah smile. "So, things are going well with the two of you? Does Professor Onai know?"

"Yes," Natty's smile went from ear to ear. "I really like him. But my mother... I'm not sure, but it's not like Henry's a bad student. He's doing very well, and he's a prefect too."

Norah sighed. "Both of you just naturally gravitated towards each other, didn't you? It's really nice to see that."

"Thank you," Natty said. Her expression fell slightly. "Henry... mentioned something as well. He thinks you've been having a hard time lately, and I'm sorry if I wasn't there for you a lot."

She shook her head. "Nothing to be sorry about. I mean, Poppy's basically gone off with Andrew and his friends now. They're inseparable, and I have a feeling you and Henry will be too. Besides, we've all got lives to live."

Natty frowned. "You keep saying it's alright when it's clearly not. Garreth has also told me you've been having a hard time."

"I didn't want to ruin your happy mood, all of you. The last thing I want is to sour the good mood we've been having whenever we're all together," Norah explained. "I didn't want to make this a problem for all of you."

"You're making it a problem by not telling us, and I've had to hear about you from two other people," Natty pointed out. "...Are we not your friends?"

"Of course you are, of course all of you are my friends," Norah said. "I just needed some time to think about it. Really Natty, I just needed to think about how it can go away or what I could do to stop having a hard time..."

The Gryffindor girl crossed her arms and raised a brow at her. "Norah, I know you are still shaken by what happened in fifth year. To be honest, I am too, now I know what being cursed feels like. But I could not have gotten past those things had it not been for my friends, including you. I could only imagine what you went through with Professor Fig, Lodgok, Rookwood, and with Ranrok. But rain does not fall on one roof alone."

Norah tilted her head at the familiar saying. "You were just as much tormented by Harlow, Rookwood, and Ranrok last year. It's okay," Natty continued to assure her. "You have done so much for so many. You have heard it from the teachers, right? The school is indebted to you for what you have done. Anyone in your position would feel what you are feeling now, it is only natural."

She nodded. "That is only part of it. There's something else."

"Garreth told me that too," Natty finished, her voice lowered this time. "I had a feeling you liked Ominis. He was what you smelled in the amortentia the other day, wasn't he?"

"I hate it when you're right," Norah frowned, making the Gryffindor girl grin. "But yes."

"And he summoned your name in Ronen's assignment too. Yes?"

"Yes. But," Norah looked down. "He said he likes someone else, and I have a feeling I know who it is."

"You do? Who do you think it would be?" Natty asked curiously.

"Who else? Anne. I can't compete with her. She's known them longer, she's known you longer, she's known everyone longer. Anne's also incredibly nice, and she's a really talented witch," Norah frowned. "She's been nothing but kind to me. Ominis said he plans to ask her to the Yule Ball."

Natty's expression fell. "Ominis said he plans to ask Anne to the Yule Ball? As in he said her name?" She asked.

"No, but that seemed like a given, right?" Norah shrugged. "Well, if I can't get a date, then I'm really going to the ball alone. And no, I will not have Henry ask me out of pity," She added before her friend could interject.

Natty raised a brow. "If you're sure. There's nothing wrong with going to the ball alone. Don't let it get to you," She advised. "You'll only be proving that Carrow boy right. Besides. I'm sure you'll be the center of attention when you make your grand entrance."

She laughed. "I'm not counting on it. I'm sure you and Henry will definitely make an entrance."

"Come on, enough of this, we're going to have fun tonight, and that includes you," Natty pointed out, pulling Norah by the arm to go up to the main room. Sebastian, Ominis, Amit, and Henry were playing a game of wizard's chess near the phoenix vivarium. Deek, who was tidying nearby, also observed them make their moves.

"Tower to a-3," Henry said coolly, watching his chess piece move forward a few paces. When Sebastian made his move, Henry's tower whacked Sebastian's off.

"How on earth are you also good at wizard's chess?" Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the Ravenclaw boy.

"My parents played a game or two when I was a child, it's one of their favorites," Henry replied, standing up when he saw Natty and Norah come in. He climbed down the steps to take Natty's hand, lacing their fingers together.

"What can't you do exactly? Other than see without your glasses?" Sebastian followed them, evidently annoyed at the blonde's response while Ominis grinned, amused at his friend's frustration.

Henry and Natty exchanged looks. "Looks like Norah and Ominis are matching again tonight," The Ravenclaw mentioned, gesturing to their clothes.

"Yes, what a coincidence," Natty added. "Sebastian and Amit look great as usual."

"Thanks," Amit nodded. "We all look great, don't we?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I try."

"You don't have to try, you know you're good-looking," Norah teased, glancing at Ominis. It's annoying how good he looks and he doesn't even know it, she thought. If she stood close enough, she could get a whiff of that familiar perfume he always seemed to wear. The scent was very him, something she didn't mind if it got on her clothes after the party. The thought alone made her cheeks heat up and she fidgeted a little in her place. Idiot, he likes Anne, she reminded herself.

Ominis, on the other hand, fought the urge to tilt his wand in Norah's direction. He too, could get a whiff of her perfume and sensed how good she looked. He kept thinking about what Henry told him in the library the other day. He hadn't mapped her face all this time.

"So, let's get on then," Sebastian nodded, gesturing everyone to leave the room. "I hope everyone hasn't eaten yet, there's going to be a lot of food later."

Much like what happened in the Gryffindor party, everyone started lining up to enter the Hufflepuff common rooms. Some students were seen leaving the kitchens with tureens and platters of food, possibly to replenish the stocks that were likely depleting in the room. They passed by Garreth, who had his keg of fizz-beer levitating in front of him as he entered the room, waving at them while he did.

"That's strong stuff, I heard," Amit said as they saw Arthur Plummly stand by, quickly tapping the barrels to open up and let them inside.

"Have fun!" He called out to them with a pleased grin.

"Yeah, strong stuff. It got me tipsy," Norah said, all of them stopping when they saw the giant tables that were conjured and filled with platters of food. There was a chocolate fountain nearby, along with stacks of glasses next to kegs of butterbeer and Garreth's brew.

Sebastian and Ominis exchanged knowing looks, with the latter recalling the conversation they had. Unsurprisingly, Poppy was surrounded by Andrew and his friends, the pair themselves sitting closely together.

"Spin the Bottle!" They heard Charlotte announce, with many gathering in a circle.

"Oh...I guess we're already playing," Sebastian muttered.

[spiritmander13]

I know I simp over Silver Spoon and his relationship with Candle, but... Come on.

TMBG's Lucky Ball And Chain fits him so well. In fact, I think all of the songs from the album Flood (excluding Theme from Flood) fit each contestant in some way shape or form. But this fits the most, and not only because it's MY OTP.

'I lost my lucky ball and chain Now she's four years gone She's five feet tall and sick of me And all my rattling on'

The chorus shows Silver's relationship with Candle, more specifically the later episodes. How he likes to boast about being better than the others and how easily Candle can get agitated and annoyed with his boasting. And also, hehe she smaller than her husband.

'She threw away her baby-doll I held on to my pride But I was young and foolish then I feel old and foolish now'

She gave her gifts to Silver Spoon and he holds onto them with both his usual pride and grief because he lost his best ally.

'Confidentially, she never called me baby-doll Confidentially, I never had much pride'

While he did use petnames to refer to Candle (he calls Candle 'my dear' most of the time), Candle did not. And also, Silver Spoon has anxiety issues and gets really anxious when things like taking a picture happen.

'But now I rock a bar and stool and I drink for two Just pondering this time bomb in my mind'

Again, it seems like he's grieving Candle's elimination and the 'time bomb' could refer to her Inner Flame or possibly his sanity.

'She walked away from a happy man I thought I was so cool I just stood there whistling "There goes the bride" as she walked out the door "There goes the bride" as she walked out the door'

After giving Silver her gifts, she walked away without looking back. That was when Silver Spoon kinda contemplates, his hands shaking, before trying to sacrifice himself instead, only to be cut off by Candle flying away, redeeming herself in 7th place.

'I could shake my tiny fist and swear I wasn't wrong But what's the sense in arguing when you're all alone?'

Honestly, the most relatable lyrics of the song to Silver. Besides Nickel, he has no allies to help him now. Balloon had turned his back on the Looney Balloonies and Bot was on seemingly neutral grounds now, so he couldn't really have any allies.

'Sure as you can't steer a train You can't change your fate And when she told me off that day I knew I'd lost my home'

Once again, Candle's elimination. Even if he did, he probably couldn't change her fate of placing 7th with his sacrifice. And when she saw that she was eliminated, he knew he lost his biggest one-up in the game.

'Confidentially, I never told you of her charms Confidentially, we never had a home But this railroad apartment was the perfect place When she'd sit and hold me in her arms'

He never got to tell the Original Thinkers or the New Pinkers about Candle and her Inner Flame. The volcano would've been their favorite place to hang out, as Candle went there to calm down and go get some answers.

The rest of the song is just repeated lyrics and a fade out, but it can retell all of the events of their relationship.

TLDR; the lyrics to TMBG's Lucky Ball And Chain are a good enough representation of Silver Spoon and Candle's relationship and Silver's current situation.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

The Counterfeit Marquise

A literary fairy tale published in 1697, presumably by Charles Perrault and François-Timoléon De Choisy (who spent a considerable amount of his life in drag, just like the protagonists of this story).

Translated by Ranjit Bolt, featured in Warner’s Wonder tales: six stories of enchantment (1996).

Cw: gender disphoria.

The Marquis de Banneville had been married barely six months to a beautiful and highly intelligent young heiress when he was killed in battle at Saint-Denis. His widow was profoundly affected. They had still been very much in love and no domestic quarrels had disturbed their happiness. She did not allow herself an excess of grief. With none of the usual lamentations, she withdrew to one of her country houses to weep at her leisure, without constraint or ostentation. But no sooner had she arrived than it was pointed out to her, on the basis of irrefutable evidence, that she was carrying a child. At first she rejoiced at the prospect of seeing a little replica of the man she had loved so much. She was careful to preserve her husband’s precious remains, and took every possible step to keep his memory alive. Her pregnancy was very easy, but as her time drew near she was tormented by a host of anxieties. She pictured a soldier’s gruesome death in its full horror. She imagined the same fate for the child she was expecting and, unable to reconcile herself to such a distressing idea, prayed a thousand times to heaven to send her a daughter who, by virtue of her sex, would be spared so cruel a fate. She did more: she made up her mind that, if nature did not answer her wishes, she would correct her. She took all the necessary precautions and made the midwife promise to announce to the world the birth of a girl, even if it was a boy.

Thanks to these measures the business was effected smoothly. Money settles everything. The marquise was absolute mistress in her château and word soon spread that she had given birth to a girl, though the child was actually a boy. It was taken to the curé who, in good faith, christened it Marianne. The wet nurse was also won over. She brought little Marianne up and subsequently became her governess. She was taught everything a girl of noble birth should know: dancing; music; the harpsichord. She grasped everything with such precocity her mother had no choice but to have her taught languages, history, even modern philosophy. There was no danger of so many subjects becoming confused in a mind where everything was arranged with such remarkable orderliness. And what was extraordinary, not to say delightful, was that so fine a mind should be found in the body of an angel. At twelve her figure was already formed. True, she had been a little constricted from infancy with an iron corset, to widen her hips and lift her bosom. But this had been a complete success and (though I shall not describe her until her first journey to Paris) she was already a very beautiful girl. She lived in blissful ignorance, quite unaware that she was not a girl. She was known in the province as la belle Marianne. All the minor gentry roundabout came to pay court to her, believing she was a rich heiress. She listened to them all and answered their gallantries with great wit and frankness. My heart, she said to her mother one day, isn’t made for provincials. If I receive them kindly it’s because I want to please people.

Be careful, my child, said the marquise: you’re talking like a coquette.

Ah, maman, she answered, let them come. Let them love me as much as they like. Why should you worry as long as I don’t love them?

The marquise was delighted to hear this, and gave her complete licence with these young men who, in any case, never strayed beyond the bounds of decorum. She knew the truth and so feared no consequences. La belle Marianne would study till noon and spend the rest of the day at her toilette.

After devoting the whole morning to my mind, she would say gaily, It’s only right to give the afternoon to my eyes, my mouth, all this little body of mine.

Indeed, she did not begin dressing till four. Her suitors would usually have gathered by then, and would take pleasure in watching her toilette. Her chambermaids would do her hair, but she would always add some new embellishment herself. Her blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders in great curls. The fire in her eyes and the freshness of her complexion were quite dazzling, and all this beauty was animated and enhanced by the thousand charming remarks that poured continually from the prettiest mouth in the world. All the young men around her adored her, nor did she miss any opportunity to increase that adoration. She would herself, with exquisite grace, put pendants in her ears – either of pearls, rubies or diamonds – all of which suited her to perfection. She wore beauty spots, preferably so tiny that one could barely see them with the naked eye and, if her complexion had not been so delicate and fine, could not have seen them at all. When putting them on she made a great show of consulting now one suitor, now another, as to which would suit her best. Her mother was overjoyed and kept congratulating herself on her ingenuity. He is twelve years old, she would say to herself under her breath. Soon I should have had to think about sending him to the Military Academy, and in two years he would have followed his poor father. Whereupon, transported with affection, she would go and kiss her darling daughter, and would let her indulge in all the coquetries that she would have condemned in anyone else’s child.

This is how matters stood when the Marquise de Banneville was obliged to go to Paris to deal with a lawsuit that one of her neighbours had taken out against her. Naturally she took her daughter with her, and soon realised that a pretty young girl can be useful when it comes to making petitions. The first person she went to see was her old friend the Comtesse d’Alettef,11 to ask for her advice and her protection for her daughter. The comtesse was struck by Marianne’s beauty and so enjoyed kissing her that she did so several times. She took on herself the task of chaperoning her, and looked after her when her mother was busy with her suit, promising to keep her amused. Marianne could not have fallen into better hands. The comtesse was born to enjoy life. She had managed to separate herself from an inconvenient husband. Not that he lacked qualities (he loved pleasure as much as she did) but since they could not agree in their choice of pleasures, they had the good sense not to get in one another’s way and each followed their own inclinations. The comtesse, though not young any more, was beautiful. But the desire for lovers had given way to the desire for money, and gambling was now her chief passion. She took Marianne everywhere, and everywhere she was received with delight.

Meanwhile, the Marquise de Banneville slept easily. She was well aware of the comtesse’s somewhat dubious reputation, and would never have trusted her with a real daughter. But quite apart from the fact that Marianne had been brought up with a strong sense of virtue, the marquise wanted a little amusement and so left her to her own devices, merely telling her that she was entering a scene very different from that of the provinces; that she would encounter passionate, devoted lovers at every turn; that she must not believe them too readily; that if she felt herself giving way she was to come and tell her everything; and that in future she would look on her as a friend rather than a daughter, and give her such advice as she herself might take.

Marianne, whom people were starting to call the little marquise, promised her mother that she would disclose all her feelings to her and, relying on past experience, believed herself a match for the gallantry of the French court. This was a bold undertaking thirty years ago. Magnificent dresses were made for her; all the newest fashions tried on her. The comtesse, who presided over all this, saw to it that her hair was dressed by Mlle de Canillac. She had only some child’s earrings and a few jewels; her mother gave her all hers, which were of poor workmanship, and managed at relatively little expense to have two pairs of diamond pendants made for her ears, and five or six crisping pins for her hair. These were all the ornaments she needed. The comtesse would send her carriage for her immediately after dinner and take her to the theatre, the opera, or the gaming houses. She was universally admired. Wives and daughters never tired of caressing her, and the loveliest of them heard her beauty praised without a hint of jealousy. A certain hidden charm, which they felt but did not understand, attracted them to her and forced them to pay homage where homage was due. Everyone succumbed to her spell and her wit, which was even more irresistible than her beauty, won her more certain and lasting conquests. The first thing that captivated them was the dazzling whiteness of her complexion. The bloom in her cheeks, forever appearing and reappearing, never ceased to amaze them. Her eyes were blue and as lively as one could wish; they flashed from beneath two heavy lids that made their glances more tender and languishing. Her face was oval-shaped and her scarlet lips, which protruded slightly, would break – even when she spoke with the utmost seriousness – into a dozen delightful creases, and into a dozen even more delightful when she laughed. This exterior – so charming in itself – was enhanced by all that a good education can add to an excellent nature. There was a radiance, a modesty in the little marquise’s countenance that inspired respect. She had a sense of occasion: she always wore a cap when she went to church, never a beauty spot – avoiding the ostentation cultivated by most women. At Mass, she would say, One prays to God; at balls one dances; and one must do both with total commitment.

She had been leading a most agreeable life for three months when Carnival came round. All the princes and officers had returned from camp, and everywhere entertainments were being held again. Everyone was giving parties and there was a great ball at the Palais Royal. The comtesse, who was too old to show her face on such occasions, decided to go masked and took the little marquise with her. She was dressed as a shepherdess in an extremely simple but becoming costume. Her hair, which hung down to her waist, was tied up in great curls with pink ribbons – no pearls, no diamonds, only a beautiful cap. She had dressed herself, but even so all eyes were fixed on her. That night her beauty was triumphant.

The handsome Prince Sionad was there, dressed as a woman – a rival to the fair sex who, in the opinion of connoisseurs, took first prize for beauty. On arriving at the ball the comtesse decided to go and sit behind the lovely Sionad. Chère princesse, she said as she drew near and introduced the little marquise, here is a young shepherdess you should find worth looking at. Marianne approached respectfully and wanted to kiss the hem of the prince’s dress (or should I say the princess’s) but he lifted her up, embraced her tenderly and cried delightedly: What a lovely girl! What fine features! What a smile! What delicacy! And if I’m not mistaken, she is as clever as she is beautiful.

The little marquise had responded only with a bashful smile when a young prince came up and claimed her for a dance. At first all eyes were fixed on him, owing to his rank. But when people saw her answering his questions without awkwardness or embarrassment; saw what a feel she had for the music; how gracefully she moved; her little jumps in time; her smiles, subtle without being malicious and the fresh glow that vigorous exercise brought to her face, total silence, as at a concert, descended on the hall. The violinists found to their delight that they could hear themselves play, and everyone seemed intent on watching and wondering at her. The dance ended with applause, little of it for the prince, popular though he was.

The acclaim that the little marquise had received at the Palais Royal ball greatly increased the comtesse’s affection and concern for her. She could no longer do without her and she offered her rooms in her house, so that she could enjoy her company at her leisure. But on no account would her mother agree to this. The little marquise was almost fourteen and, if the secret of her birth was to be kept, it was vital that no one should be on intimate terms with her except her governess, who got her up and saw her into bed. She was still quite ignorant of her situation and, though she had many admirers, felt nothing for them. She cared for nothing and no one but herself and her appearance. People spoke to her of nothing else. She drank down this delicious praise in long draughts and thought herself the most beautiful person in the world; the more so since her mirror swore to her every day that the praise was justified.

One day she was at the theatre, in the first tier, when she noticed a beautiful young man in the next box. He wore a scarlet doublet embroidered with gold and silver, but what fascinated her were his dazzling diamond earrings and three or four beauty spots. She watched him intently and found his countenance so sweet and amiable that she could not contain herself, and said to the comtesse: Madame, look at that young man! Isn’t he handsome! Indeed, said the comtesse, but he is too conscious of his looks, and that is not becoming in a man. He might as well dress as a girl.

The performance went on and they said nothing more, but the little marquise often turned her head, no longer able to concentrate on the play, which was The Feign’d Alcibiades. Some days later she was at the theatre again in the third tier. The same young man, who drew such attention to himself with his extraordinary adornments, was in the second tier. He watched the little marquise at his leisure, as fascinated by her as she had been by him on the previous occasion, but less restrained. He kept turning his back on the actors, unable to take his eyes off her and she, for her part, responded in a manner less than consistent with the dictates of modesty. She felt in this exchange of looks something she had never experienced before: a certain joy at once subtle and profound, which passes from the eyes to the heart and constitutes the only real happiness in life. At last the play ended and, while they waited for the afterpiece, the beautiful young man left his box and went to ask the little marquise’s name. The porters, who saw her often, were happy to oblige him; they even told him where she lived. He now saw that she was of noble birth and decided, if possible, to make her acquaintance, even if he went no further. He resolved (love being ingenious) to enter her box by accident.

Ah, madame, he cried, I beg your pardon: I thought this was my box. The Marquise de Banneville loved intrigue and made the most of this one. Monsieur, she said to him with great frankness, we are indeed fortunate in your mistake: a man as handsome as you is welcome anywhere.

She hoped in this way to detain him so that she could look at him at her leisure; examine him and his adornments; please her daughter (whose feelings she had already detected) and, in a word, have some harmless amusement. He hesitated before deciding to remain in the box without taking a seat at the front. They asked him a hundred questions, to which he replied very wittily. His manner and tone of voice had an undeniable charm. The little marquise asked him why he wore pendants in his ears. He replied that he always had: his ears had been pierced when he was a child. As for the rest, they must excuse these little embellishments, normally only suitable for the fair sex, on the grounds of youth.

Everything suits you, monsieur, said the little marquise with a blush. You can wear beauty spots and bracelets as far as we’re concerned. You wouldn’t be the first. These days young men are always doing themselves up like girls. The conversation never flagged. When the afterpiece was over he conducted the ladies to their coach and had his follow it as far as the marquise’s house where, not daring to enter, he sent a page to present his compliments.

During the days that followed they saw him everywhere: in church; in the park; at the opera and the theatre. He was always unassuming, always respectful. He would bow low to the little marquise, not daring to approach or speak to her. He seemed to have but one object, and wasted no time in attaining it. Finally, after three weeks, the Marquise de Banneville’s brother (who was a state councillor) called and suggested that she receive a visitor – his good friend and neighbour, the Marquis de Bercour. He assured her that he was an excellent man and brought him round immediately after lunch. The marquis was the handsomest man in the world; his hair was black and arranged in thick, natural-looking curls. It was cut in line with the ears so that his diamond earrings could be seen. On this particular day he had attached to each of these a pearl. He also wore two or three beauty spots (no more) to emphasise his fine complexion.

Ah, brother, said the marquise, is this the Marquis de Bercour? Yes, madame, replied the marquis, and he cannot live any longer without seeing the loveliest girl in the world.

As he said this he turned towards the little marquise, who was beside herself with joy. They sat and talked, exchanging news, discussing amusements and new books. The little marquise was a versatile conversationalist, and they were soon at ease with one another. The old councillor was the first to leave, the marquis the last, having remained as long as he felt he could.

After this he never missed an opportunity of paying court to the girl he loved, and always made sure that everything was perfect. When the good weather came and they went out walking to Vincennes or in the Bois, they would find a magnificent collation, which seemed to have been brought there by magic, at a place specially chosen in the shade of some trees. One day there would be violins; the next oboes. The marquis had apparently given no instructions, yet it was obvious that he had arranged everything. Nevertheless, it took several days to guess who had given the little marquise a magnificent present. One morning a carrier brought a chest to her house which he said was from the Comtesse Alettef. She opened it eagerly and was delighted to find in it gloves, scents, pomades, perfumed oils, gold boxes, little toilet cases, more than a dozen snuff boxes in different styles, and countless other treasures. The little marquise wanted to thank the comtesse, who had no idea what she was talking about. She found out in the end, but reproached herself more than once for not having guessed at once.

These little attentions advanced the marquis’s cause considerably. The little marquise greatly appreciated them. Madame, she said to her mother with admirable honesty, I no longer know where I am. Once I wanted to be beautiful in everyone’s eyes; now the only person I want to find me beautiful is the marquis. I used to love balls, plays, receptions, places where there was a lot of noise. Now I’m tired of all that. My only pleasure in life is to be alone and think about the man I love. He’s coming soon, I whisper to myself. Perhaps he’ll tell me he loves me. Yes, madame, he hasn’t said that yet; hasn’t spoken those wonderful words: I love you, though his eyes and his actions have told me so a hundred times. Then, my child, replied the marquise, I’m very sorry for you. You were happy before you saw the marquis. You enjoyed everyone’s company; everyone loved you and you loved only yourself, your own person, your beauty. You were wholly consumed with the desire to please, and please you did. Why change such a delightful life? Take my advice, my dear child: let your sole concern be to profit from the advantages nature has given you. Be beautiful: you have experienced that joy; is there any other to touch it? To draw everyone’s gaze; to win all hearts; to delight people wherever one goes; to hear oneself praised continually, and not by flatterers; to be loved by all and love only oneself: that, my child, is the height of happiness, and you can enjoy it for a long time. You are a queen, don’t make yourself a slave: you must resist at the outset a passion that is carrying you away in spite of yourself. Now you command, but soon you will obey. Men are fickle: the marquis loves you today – tomorrow he will love someone else.

Stop loving me! said the little marquise. Love someone else! And she burst into tears.

Her mother, who loved her dearly, tried to console her and succeeded by telling her that the marquis was coming. There was a lot at stake and this incipient passion caused her considerable alarm. Where will it lead? she asked herself. To what bizarre conclusion. If the marquis declares himself – if he plucks up courage and asks for certain favours – she will refuse him nothing. But then, she reflected, the little marquise has been well trained; she is sensible; at most she will grant such trifling favours as will leave them in ignorance – an ignorance essential to their happiness.

They were talking like this when someone came to tell them that the marquis had sent them a dozen partridges, and that he was at the door, not daring to enter as he had just returned from hunting.

Send him in! cried the little marquise. We want to see him in his hunting clothes. He entered a moment later, all apologies for powder marks, sun burn and a dishevelled wig. No, no, said the little marquise. I assure you, we like you better dressed informally like this than in all your finery. If that is so, madame, he replied, next time you will see me dressed as a stoker.

He remained standing, as though about to leave. They made him sit and the marquise, kind soul, told them to sit together while she went to her study to write. The chambermaids knew what was what and withdrew to the dressing-room, leaving the lovers alone together. They were silent for a while. The little marquise, still flustered after her talk with her mother, scarcely dared raise her eyes, and the marquis, even more embarrassed, looked at her and sighed. There was something tender in this silence. The looks they exchanged, the sighs they could not contain, were for them a form of language – a language lovers often use – and their mutual embarrassment seemed to them a sign of love. The little marquise was the first to awake from this reverie.

You’re dreaming, marquis, she said. What of? Hunting? Ah, beautiful marquise, said the marquis, how lucky hunters are! They are not in love. What do you mean? she rejoined. Is being in love really so terrible? Madame, he replied, it is the greatest happiness in life. But unrequited love is the greatest misfortune. I am in love and it is not requited. I am in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. Venus herself would not dare put herself before her. I love her and she does not love me. She has no feelings. She sees me, she listens to me, and she remains cruelly silent. She even turns her eyes away from mine. How heartless! How can I doubt my fate? As he spoke these last words, the marquis knelt down before the little marquise and kissed her hands – nor did she object. Her eyes were lowered and let fall great tears.

Beautiful marquise, he said, you’re crying. You’re crying and I know the reason for your tears. My love is irksome to you. Ah, marquis, she answered with a heavy sigh, one can cry for joy as well as pain. I’ve never been so happy. She said no more and, stretching out her arms to her beloved marquis, granted him the favours she would have denied all the kings of the earth. Caresses were all the protestations of love they needed. The marquis found in the little marquise’s lips a compliance that her eyes had hidden from him, and this conversation would have lasted longer if the marquise had not emerged from her study. She found them laughing and crying at the same time, and wondered whether such tears had ever needed drying.

The marquis immediately rose to leave, but the marquise said to him pleasantly: Monsieur, won’t you stay and dine on the partridges you brought? He needed little persuading. What he desired more than anything else in the world was to be on familiar terms in this house. He stayed, even though he was dressed in hunting clothes, and had the exquisite pleasure of seeing the girl he loved eat. It is one of life’s chief delights. To watch at close quarters a pink mouth that, as it opens, reveals gums of coral and teeth of alabaster; that opens and closes with the rapidity that accompanies all the actions of youth; to see a beautiful face animated by an often repeated pleasure, and to be experiencing the same pleasure at the same time – this is a privilege love grants to few.

After that happy day the marquis made sure he dined there every night. It was a regular affair and the little marquise’s suitors, who had had no cause to be jealous of one another, took it as settled. She had made her choice and they all admitted that beauty and vanity, however powerful, are no defence against love. The Comte d’****, one of her most ardent admirers, had a keen sense that his passion was being made light of. He was handsome, well built, brave, a soldier: he could not allow the little marquise to give herself to the Marquis de Bercour, whom he considered vastly inferior in every respect to himself. He decided to pick a quarrel with him and so disgrace him, thinking him too effeminate to dare cross swords with him. However, to his great surprise, at the first word he uttered when they met at the Porte des Tuileries, the marquis drew his sword and thrust at him with gusto. After a hard-fought duel they were parted by mutual friends.

This adventure pleased the little marquise. It gave her lover a war-like air, though she trembled for him nevertheless. She saw clearly that her beauty and her preference for him would constantly be exposing him to such encounters, and she said to him one day: Marquis, we must put an end to jealousy once and for all; we must silence gossip. We love one another and always will. We must bind ourselves to one another with ties that only death can break.

Ah, beautiful marquise, he said, what are you thinking of? Does our happiness bore you? Marriage, as a rule, puts an end to pleasure. Let us remain as we are. For my part, I am content with your favours and will never ask you for anything more. But I am not content, said the little marquise. I can see clearly that there is something missing in our happiness, and perhaps we will find it when you belong to me entirely, and I to you. It would not be right, replied the marquis, for you to throw in your lot with a younger son who has spent the bulk of his fortune and whom you still know only by appearances, which are often deceptive.

But that’s just what I love about it, she interrupted. I’m so happy that I have enough money for us both, and to have the chance of showing you that I love you and you alone.

They had reached this point when the Marquise de Banneville interrupted them. She had been closeted with her agents, and thought she would refresh herself with some lively young company, but she found them in a deeply serious mood. The marquis had been greatly put out by the little marquise’s proposal. Ostensibly it was very much to his advantage, but he had secret objections to it, which he considered insurmountable. The little marquise, for her part, was a little annoyed at having taken such a bold step in vain, but she soon recovered, deciding that the marquis had refused out of respect for her – or that he wished to prove the depth of his feelings for her. This thought made her decide to speak to her mother about it, and she did so the following day.

No one was ever more astonished than the Marquise de Banneville when her daughter spoke to her of marriage. She was sixteen and no longer a child. Her eyes had not been opened to her situation, and her mother hoped they never would be. She was careful not to agree to the match, but to reveal the truth would have been a painful solution both for her daughter and the marquis. She resolved to do so only as a last resort. Meanwhile she would prevent, or at least postpone, the marriage. The marquis was in agreement with her on this, but the little marquise – passionate creature that she was – begged, entreated, wept, used every means to persuade her mother. She never doubted her lover, since he did not dare oppose her with the same firmness. Finally she pushed her mother to the point where she said these words to her: My dear child, you leave me no choice: against my better judgement I must reveal to you something that I would have given my life to conceal from you. I loved your poor father and when I lost him so tragically, in dread of your meeting the same fate, I prayed with all my heart for a daughter. I was not so fortunate: I gave birth to a son and I have brought him up as a daughter. His sweetness, his inclinations, his beauty, all assisted my plan. I have a son and the whole world believes I have a daughter. Ah, madame! cried the little marquise, is it possible that I …? Yes, my child, said her mother embracing her, you are a boy. I can see how painful this news must be for you. Habit has given you a different nature. You are used to a life very different from the one you might have led. I wanted you to be happy and would never have revealed the sad truth to you if your obstinacy over the marquis had not forced me to. You see now what you were about to do? How, but for me, you would have exposed yourself to public ridicule?

The little marquise did not answer. Instead she merely wept and in vain her mother said to her: But my child, go on living as you were. Be the beautiful little marquise still – loved, adored by all who see her. Love your beautiful marquis if you like, but do not think of marrying him. Alas! cried the little marquise through her tears, he has asked for nothing more. He flies into a rage when I mention marriage. Ah! Could it be that he knows my secret? If I thought that, dear mother, I would go and hide myself in the furthest corner of the earth. Could he know it? In floods of tears now, she added: Alas, poor little marquise, what will you do? Will you dare show your face again and act the beauty? But what have you said? What have you done? What name can one give the favours you have granted the marquis? Blush! Blush, unhappy girl! Ah, nature you are blind: why did you not warn me of my duty? Alas! I acted in good faith, but now I see the truth and I must behave quite differently in future. I must not think about the man I love – I must do what is right.

She was uttering these words with determination when it was announced that the marquis was at the door of the antechamber. He entered with a happy air and was amazed to see both mother and daughter with lowered eyes and in tears. The mother did not wait for him to speak but rose and went to her room. He took courage and said: What’s the matter, beautiful marquise? If something is distressing you, won’t you share it with your friends? What? You won’t even look at me! Am I the cause of this weeping? Am I to blame without knowing it?

The little marquise dissolved in tears. No! No! she cried. No! That could never be, and if it were so I would not feel as I do. Nature is wise and there is a reason for everything she does.

The marquis had no idea what all this meant. He was asking for an explanation when the marquise, who had recovered a little, left her room and came to her daughter’s aid. Look at her, she said to the marquis. As you see, she is quite beside herself. I am to blame. I tried to stop her but she would have her fortune told, and they said she would never marry the man she loved. That has upset her, Monsieur le Marquis, and you know why.

For my part, madame, he replied, I am not at all upset. Let her remain always as she is. I ask only to see her. I shall be more than happy if she will consider me her best friend.

With this the conversation ended. Emotions had been stirred, and would take time to settle. But they settled so completely that after eight days there was no sign of any upheaval. The marquis’s presence, his charm, his caresses, obliterated from the little marquise’s mind everything her mother had told her. She no longer believed any of it, or rather did not wish to believe. Pleasure triumphed over reflection. She lived as she had done before with her lover and felt her passion increase with such violence that thoughts of a lasting union returned to torment her. Yes, she said to herself, he cannot go back on his word now. He will never desert me. She had resolved to speak of it again, when her mother fell ill. Her illness was so grave that after three days all hope of a cure was abandoned. She made her will and sent for her brother, the councillor, whom she appointed the little marquise’s guardian. He was her uncle and her heir, since all the property came from the mother. She confided to him the truth about her daughter’s birth, begging him to take it seriously and to let her lead a life of innocent pleasure that would harm no one and which, since it precluded her marrying, would guarantee his children a rich inheritance.

The good councillor was delighted at this news and saw his sister die without shedding a tear. The income of thirty thousand francs that she left the little marquise seemed certain to pass to his children, and he had only to encourage his niece’s infatuation for the marquis. He did so with great success, telling her that he would be like a father to her and had no wish to be her guardian except in name.

This sympathetic behaviour consoled the little marquise somewhat – and she was certainly distraught – but the sight of her beloved marquis consoled her even more. She saw that she was absolute mistress of her fate, and her sole aim was to share it with the man she loved. Six months of official mourning passed, after which pleasures of all kinds once again filled her life. She went often to balls, the theatre, the opera, and always in the same company. The marquis never left her side and all her other suitors, seeing that it was a settled affair, had withdrawn. They lived happily and would perhaps have thought of nothing else, if malicious tongues could have left them in peace. Everywhere, people were saying that, while the little marquise was beautiful, since her mother’s death she had lost all sense of decorum: she was seen everywhere with the marquis; he was practically living in her house; he dined there every day and never left before midnight. Her best friends found grounds for censure in this: they sent her anonymous letters and warned her uncle, who spoke to her about it. Finally, things went so far that the little marquise went back to her first idea and decided to marry the marquis. She put this to him forcefully; he resisted likewise, only agreeing on condition that the marriage would be a purely public affair, and that they would live together like brother and sister. This, he said, was how they must always love one another. The little marquise readily agreed. She often remembered what her mother had told her. She spoke of it to her uncle, who began by outlining all the pitfalls of marriage and ended by giving his consent. He saw that, by this means, the income of thirty thousand francs was sure to pass to his family. There was no danger of his niece having children by the Marquis de Bercour whereas, if she did not marry him, her notion that she was a girl might change with time and with her beauty, which was sure to fade. So a wedding day was fixed on, bridal clothes made and the ceremony held at the good uncle’s house. (As guardian he undertook to give the wedding feast.)

The little marquise had never looked as beautiful as she did that day. She wore a dress of black velours completely covered in gems, pink ribbons in her hair and diamond pendants in her ears. The Comtesse d’Alettef, who would always love her, went with her to the church, where the marquis was waiting. He wore a black velours cloak decked with gold braid, his hair was in curls, his face powdered, there were diamond pendants in his ears and beauty spots on his face. In short, he was adorned in such a way that his best friends could not excuse such vanity. The couple were united for ever and everyone showered them with blessings. The banquet was magnificent, the king’s music and the violons were there. At last the hour came and relatives and friends put the couple together in a nuptial bed and embraced them, the men laughing, a few good old aunts weeping.

It was then that the little marquise was astonished to find how cold and insensitive her lover was. He stayed at one end of the bed, sighing and weeping. She approached him tentatively. He did not seem to notice her. Finally, no longer able to endure so painful a state of affairs, she said: What have I done to you, marquis? Don’t you love me any more? Answer me or I shall die, and it will be your fault.

Alas, madame, said the marquis, didn’t I tell you? We were living together happily – you loved me – and now you will hate me. I have deceived you. Come here and see.

So saying he took her hand and placed it on the most beautiful bosom in the world. You see, he said, dissolving in tears, you see I am useless to you: I am a woman like you.

Who could describe here the little marquise’s surprise and delight? At this moment she had no doubt that she was a boy and, throwing herself into the arms of her beloved marquis, she gave him the same surprise, the same delight. They soon made their peace, wondered at their fate – a fate that had brought matters on to such a happy conclusion – and exchanged a thousand vows of undying love.

As for me, said the little marquise, I am too used to being a girl, and I want to remain one all my life. How could I bring myself to wear a man’s hat?

And I, said the marquis, have used a sword more than once without disgracing myself. I’ll tell you about my adventures some day. Let’s continue as we are, then. Beautiful marquise, enjoy all the pleasures of your sex, and I shall enjoy all the freedom of mine.

The day after the wedding they received the usual compliments and, eight days later, left for the provinces, where they still live in one of their châteaux. The uncle should visit them there: he would find, to his surprise, that a beautiful child has resulted from their marriage – one to put paid to his hopes of a rich inheritance.

[sunbaekery]

Coming Soon: Kiss and Tell

I’m super excited to introduce my newest Special — Kiss and Tell. It’s a project I’ve been thinking about for a while now and while I’ve only been writing drabbles or short oneshots, I really wanted to try my hand at writing longer stories. I don’t know how long each story will be and I don’t know how long this project will take, but I hope that you’ll support me on my writing journey.

These stories will be written in a 3rd person limited (members thoughts) with fem ocs.

Teaser(total): 0.8k

For centuries, kisses have been a way to express emotions, and whether it's a passionate liplock between lovers or a loving kiss from parent to child, each kiss has a story behind it. Kiss and Tell follows the lives of 7 young men, all at different stages of life, and the story behind their kiss.

Jisung's Story

Jisung is your standard awkward high school student: he plays video games till 2 a.m., cleans his room only when his mother nags him for the hundredth time, and struggles to form coherent sentences in front of the girl he's been crushing on: Kim Yeri. With the annual summer fair coming up, The Carnival, and college looming on the horizon, he finally plucked up the courage to ask her out, and to his surprise, she agreed. This should be it: he's finally getting his chance at the sappy high school romance he's been waiting for, so then why can't he stop thinking about the little mole on the lower right corner of his best friend's lips

Item: Bites, Desert

Allergen Warnings: Profanity, Crude Humor, etc.

Expected Release: In August

Haechan's Story

Haechan has always been the funny guy, always putting a smile on other people's faces and making them feel as if they've known each other for years, even if they've just met for a few minutes. So when he finally meets the girl with impeccable timing for jokes that almost rivals his… almost, you can bet he married her as soon as he could. But life has a funny way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it, and Haechan's idyllic life is shattered in an instant.

Item: Bites, Namericano

Allergen Warnings: Major Character Death, Pregnancy, Grief, etc.

Mark's Story

Mark is twenty-two years old, a recent college graduate, young, capable, and ready to face the world. Sure, he earned a degree in Musical Composition, which, in hindsight, may not be the safest career choice. Still, it was a crucial part of him, and with a support system like his, his loving parents, sympathetic brother, and an angel of a girlfriend, who wouldn't pursue it. But Mark wasn't prepared for the world to come to him; he is offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the only problem being that it is halfway across the globe — truly putting the distance in long distance. Mark must decide whether his love or his dream is more important to him.

Item: Bites, Namericano

Allergen Warnings: Not Applicable for now

Renjun's Story

Renjun is eleven years old... okay, ten and a half, and he's about to start his last year of elementary school. He's a big kid now, but he doesn't feel like it; in fact, he misses his parents, who are constantly shooing him away with excuses about working hard to achieve a pormoshin... promortion... or something like that. He is tired and irritable, and all he wants to do is curl up into a small ball and hide from the world, which he does most of the time because students and teachers prefer to ignore him rather than deal with his tantrums. With the start of a new school year comes a new teacher, one who doesn't seem to take no for an answer. Will Renjun finally open up, or will she, like everyone else, lose interest in him?

Item: Bites, Mocha

Allergen Warnings: Anxiety, Bullying, Negligence

Jaemin's Story

If someone had told seventeen-year-old Jaemin that at age twenty-seven, he would be living in a much too small apartment, having an affair with his much older, married neighbor, who always promised to leave her husband for him, but never did, and still hadn't pursued his photography dream because he was too much of coward and still cared about what people thought of him, he would have punched that person in the face, and obnoxiously yell very choice words. And yet here he was, exactly that; there was no need to beat around the bush, Na Jaemin was a complete loser.

Item: Bites, Mocha

Allergen Warnings: Age-Gap, Suggestive Scenes, Cheating, Insecurity, etc

Chenle's Story

Chenle is a "late bloomer." Not professionally, of course, graduating from the country's top business school at the age of 18, starting and successfully building a fortune 500 company by the age of 25, and now owning a thriving business empire at the age of 40, Chenle was undoubtedly fortunate in that aspect of his life, his romantic life, however, not so much. So at the age of 40, Chenle decided to try his hand at online dating, and after some questionable, read disastrous dates, he's finally met a serious-relationship worthy woman and Chenle swears he can smell love in the air. Little did Chenle know that trouble was on its way, in the form of the woman's 15-year-old teenage daughter, who was determined to put an end to Chenle's relationship.

Item: Bites, Namericano

Allergen Warnings: Break down, Divorce, Absent Parent, etc.

Jeno's Story

Jeno has two loves: singing and partying, a combination that is destined for disaster. After experimenting at a party, Jeno's behavior reaches a new low jeopardizing not only his singing career but also his relationship with his junior singer that he may or may not be falling in love with.

Item: Namericano, Bites

Allergen Warnings: Age-Gap, Drugs, Partying, Reckless Behavior, Hallucinations, Violence (etc.)

Guide to Sun Baekary Diction

Bites = Slice of Life

Namericano = Angst

Mocha = Feel-Good/Motivational

Desert = Fluff

Allergen Warning = Trigger Warning

[queenof-literature]

Hiiiiiiii! Is it alright to have a fic of th LU boys in a modern setting?

Hi anon! Thank you for the request! I’m so sorry... this turned out SO LONG

Anyway

What’s this? Me doing a request after I have completely dropped the ball on everything? I’m so sorry as I stated if I haven’t directly/publicly announced I am not comfortable doing a request then I HAVE gotten all your requests and I am working on them. There’s just a lot going on right now. I love reading through all of your requests/messages, and I love writing them. Just a reminder: For now requests are closed until I can honor my commitment and catch up, but they’ll open back up eventually. 

Thank you for the request anon, I had a blast writing it! I hope it didn’t turn out too crack for your tastes.

Here’s the link for this story on Ao3

TW: Implied child abuse and themes of death. Not very explicit, but the warning is there

When Time laid eyes on his child for the first time, he knew he would do anything to protect him. Bundled in Malon’s arms, huge blue eyes looking up at him curiously, little fingers reached up to grab at him. Truthfully Time was worried that the one eye would scare his son. Malon told him that was ridiculous, he was the boy's father and the boy would know. It turns out she was right, the little boy looked at his father happily and reached up towards the man’s face, not bothered by the scars, marks, or lack of a right eye. Malon would later tease him for crying, but that was okay. 

~

It’s interesting how children don’t always match up with your imagination. His son was shy, to the point where it was becoming worrying for Time and Malon. They took him to see a counselor, after another fight with the boy’s teacher at how he wouldn’t participate in class. Social Anxiety, a severe case according to the counselor. His son would only talk at home, becoming silent anywhere else. After multiple sessions, Time had a plethora of information to help his son through it. This is not what he expected for his son’s childhood, but that didn’t matter. Life was full of surprises and his son was one of the brightest lights Time had ever met, and he would love him no matter what. 

~

“Dad?” The six year old in his lap drawing Time’s attention away from his book.

“Yes?” Time brought his full attention to his son.

“Is your name really Time?”

“Why are you asking, little wolf?” Time asked in amusement.

“Your name sounds weird compared to other names.” His son told him matter of factly, feeling the vibrations of his dad’s laugh against his back. 

“No, pup. Time is a nickname that I got and it just kind of stuck.” Time told his son. He hadn’t even considered he would question his father’s name, it was just normal to Time at this point. 

“So it’s a nickname? Can I have one? Where’d you get it from?” Twilight bounced on his lap. Time paused. Had he really never shown his son his old game console?

“Well, I was absolutely obsessed with a game: Ocarina of Time.” Time waved his hands with flourish, causing his son to giggle.

“Ocarina? Like the instrument you play?”

“That’s the one.” Time confirmed, mind jumping back to the lullabies he would play to get his son to sleep. “These games helped me…” Time trailed off, not exactly wanting to talk about his not-so-great childhood to his six year old. “They helped me through some tough times.” Time said gently. “I could go on an adventure, be a hero, explore, anything.” Time was brought out of his musings by his son’s large and curious eyes.

“Can I play?” His son asked shyly, and Time couldn’t help but grin at his son wanting to share that with him. 

“Of course, pup! Although I have to warn you.” His son perked up at Time’s serious expression. “If you find one you like, there may be no going back from the nickname.” Time warned, thinking back to the point in his life where everyone simply called him ‘Time’ instead of his real name. “Are you sure you’re ready?” Time asked seriously, struggling to hold back his laugh when his son nodded back just as serious.

“I’m ready.” Twilight confirmed. 

The rest of the day was spent with Time teaching his son how to play his old games, until it eventually came time where his son wanted to pick one. His son stared ahead at his collection, eyes lighting up when he saw one in particular. Oh, Time should have known how this would go. 

“Wolf!” His son shouted excitedly as he looked at the cover of the game.

“That’s a good one!” Time smiled at the worn game, the gold letters ‘Twilight Princess’ stood out against the wolf of the cover. His son was obsessed with animals, wolves in particular. They spent some time playing in the basement, his son instantly fell in love with the game, spending most of his time shapeshifting in and out of wolf form and babbling excitedly about how cool it was. Him and Time were so immersed they didn’t even hear Malon come home. Twilight jumped up when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Mom! Mom!” Twilight yelled, running up to hug his mother’s legs. “I have a nickname just like Dad! Twilight! Look what I can do!” Twilight ran back to the controller and shapeshifted into a wolf, mesmerized as the character howled again. Time looked back with a sheepish look as Malon raised an amused eyebrow. Of course she couldn’t be mad when the now nicknamed Twilight dragged her over and showed her all the things he could do in the game. She hadn’t seen her son this outgoing and happy in a long time. Besides, Twilight certainly wasn’t a bad name to have.

~

Time sighed in relief as he made it to his son’s school just in time for pickup. His shift had run a little overtime and he had to take a shortcut just to make it. Time beamed as his seven year old ran up to him. He still struggled to talk in the classroom, but he was just as energetic as ever.

“Dad!” Time scooped up Twilight just as the boy launched at him. “Guess what!” Twilight said excitedly. “What?” Time asked. “I made a friend!” Twilight beamed. Now that surprised Time. His boy always had trouble making friends, everyone in class tended to avoid him as much as Time hated to even think about that. 

“That’s amazing, Twi! What’s their name?” Time asked, carrying Twilight to his car. Twilight got a little embarrassed, peaking Time’s interest.

“Well… it turns out he likes the same games we do!” Twilight said, surprising Time once again. “So we made up a nickname for him too. I’m sorry, I hope that’s okay.” Twilight looked up sadly at Time’s face.

“Of course that’s fine, bud.” Time reassured, and Twilight lit up once again. “Now, what’s his favorite game? His answer depends on if you can be friends with him or not.” Time joked, making Twilight giggle from the backseat. 

“He likes A Tale of Warriors.” Twilight said. “So Warrors.” Time was silent for a moment.

“That game was okay. Ocarina of Time is still the best.” Time smirked as Twilight once again went into his argument about how, no, Twilight Princess was the best.

~

The first time Warriors was over for dinner, he continued to surprise Time. He was the opposite of their son, not a shy bone in his body, but he was a sweet kid and was obviously raised with manners. Time was even more surprised he was friends with Twilight when he met the kid in person. According to what he heard from Twilight, Warriors was quite popular among his class, and kids tended to not have patience for those very far outside their social circle, and Twilight was as quiet as they came in class. But the two had become as thick as thieves, Warriors apparently didn’t care at all how quiet Twilight was, he tossed everything aside to befriend Time’s son no matter what was said behind their back, and Time couldn’t help but feel grateful that his son had such a loyal friend. 

Malon and Time were planning on using the boy’s given name, whatever it was, but Twilight proudly introduced his friend as ‘Warriors’ and said boy seemed very happy to have that nickname. So Warriors it was. 

Dinner was louder than usual with their son’s friend, but it didn’t seem to stress their son out at all. It was obvious the two boys were close despite their obvious differences, and both parents were happy their boy was smiling and laughing around another child. By the time Warriors’ mother came to pick him up, the family had grown close with Twilight’s friend. When Time met Warriors’ mother it was obvious where the little boy got his manners from. The woman was sweet and polite, but obviously protective of her son. Time saw her scan the environment and her son’s happiness the way Malon always did with Twilight.

Warriors raced into his mother’s arms and chatted away about his evening, and it was obvious how close their bond was. Time would find out later from the woman part of the reason why. It was only her and Warriors, with her becoming an expert at balancing her career, son, and making sure her ex husband kept away from them. The woman wouldn’t tell them what happened with Warriors’ father and why they split, but by the dark, protective look on her face it became obvious to Time what had happened.

That’s why the night Time and Malon had rushed to the hospital after a panicked call from Warriors, and they saw him sitting alone in the waiting room wrapped in his mother’s blue scarf and sobbing, Malon instantly swept the boy into her warm arms. Time knew from that moment on, he had another son. 

~

The next friend Twilight made was at eight years old. Both he and Warriors had accepted the new student into their circle as soon as they talked to him. It was an instant click, from what Time heard. The little boy was one of the sweetest kids Time had ever met, and also pretty quiet. Twilight knew the struggle of being quiet in a new and scary classroom, and had gone and tried to befriend him. Time couldn’t be more proud of him. 

“I’m proud of you.” Time told his son as they were on their way to pick up Warriors from fencing practice. Warriors was still in grief, of course he was, but fencing had really struck a chord with the boy. According to him, feeling the sabre in his hand was one of the best feelings in the world. Time could tell that having something he was passionate about was helping him heal, no matter how slow the process was. Plus, according to his teacher, Warriors was a natural. 

“It was just talking to him.” Twilight replied, a little confused.

“But most won’t do that. It’s hard being a new student. I’m proud of you for reaching out, I know how scary that is.” Especially for you. Time didn’t say the thought out loud. Twilight had been getting better at coping with his social anxiety, and Time and Malon did everything they could to give him the tools he needed, but the boy still struggled immensely. 

“...do you know about any parents missing a child?” Twilight asked hesitantly. Time almost slammed on the brakes in shock.

“Do I what?” Time asked. 

“Well… the new kid said that he lives home to home and he doesn’t know where his parents are. I just thought since you help find people you might know. I want to help him.” Twilight told his dad nervously. Time went cold. That sounded a lot like foster care to him. 

“I’m sorry, pup, I don’t know of anything.” Time confirmed sadly, not knowing what else to say. It was painfully obvious the parents weren’t missing, but most likely left their child to the system. Time tried so hard not to be mad, he knew not every parent had the opportunities to provide for a child. He just hoped that child had better experiences than he did.

~

The boys had been in the basement for a while, Time figured he should go and check on the troublesome trio and make sure they didn’t find any trouble. He walked down the stairs, only to hear the sound of a battle. 

“Which one are you boys playing now?” Time asked in amusement, only to be completely ignored. “Twilight, Warriors-” before Time could say the third boy's name, Warriors interrupted him. “It’s Sky now!” Warriors hit the third boy, now deemed Sky, playfully on the shoulder. 

“Awe, Skyward Sword. Good choice.” Time laughed at the fact that now both of his sons, and their friend, all had nicknames from the same game series. 

~

Later that night, Sky got his backpack and was prepared to open the door.

“Oh! Is your guardian here dear?” Malon asked, looking out the window.

“No Ms. Malon.” Sky said shyly. “I’m walking home.”

“Just Malon is fine sweetie. It’s getting awfully late to walk…” Malon frowned in concern. “I’ll drive you home.” Malon offered brightly. 

“Oh that’s okay Ms- Malon.” Sky stammered nervously. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.

“No trouble at all, dear.” Malon smiled, grabbing her keys.

“Thank you.” Sky smiled at her gratefully, and she could melt just looking at the small boy’s smile. Sky was quiet the entire ride over, only answering small questions when Malon asked. She didn’t put too much pressure on the boy, him and her son seemed very similar in how they handled social situations.

“Is this it?” Malon double checked, approaching a suburban looking house. 

“Yes.” Sky chipped. “Thank you again!” Sky said. 

“Anytime sweetheart! Here, I’ll walk you up.” Malon turned off her car, glancing at Sky’s nervous expression as they approached the door. She would have to pay close attention to what awaited them at the top of the porch. Sure, Sky could just be a nervous kid, but Malon felt something else was going on, and her instincts were rarely wrong. She knocked politely on the door, noticing how Sky shied away from the door ever so slightly. 

“Oh hello.” A tall man answered the door. Everything in the home just seemed normal, perhaps a little too neat. The man who she assumed was the foster father had brown hair and hazel eyes, in the background he saw a woman playing with children that looked exactly like them. Everything seemed to be fine, but Malon knew better than to write off Sky’s behavior. Many awful things could happen behind closed doors. “Oh! There you are.” The man looked at Sky, but didn’t seem particularly happy to see him, nor was he angry. Simply neutral. “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.” The man said to Malon, making Sky shrink down even more, as he slowly walked past the man and into the house. The woman playing with her children didn’t even acknowledge him, all of her attention on the kids in front of her. 

“Not at all, he was a delight.” Malon smiled despite the disturbing implications in front of her. “He’s such a sweetheart, you’re very lucky to have a kid like him.” There, she had dropped the bait, now to see how he responded. “Oh. He’s not ours. We have kids of our own.” The man said casually, and Malon felt her blood boil at the tone of voice the man had. As if blood was everything, as if she didn’t already have a son at home that wasn’t her blood. It changed nothing, she loved both her boys more than anything. “Anyway, it’s been a pleasure, have a good night.” An insincere tone spoke up before there was a door in her face. She understood now what was going on, she understood perfectly. 

Malon marched to her car, fuming as she drove home. How dare they! How dare they! There wasn’t a mark on Sky, not physically, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ignored and neglected in that home. Why would those people even volunteer to foster if that’s how they felt? For the pats on the back? For the praises?

By the time she got home, her husband and the boys were all in bed. She quickly hid her anger enough to wish each of her boys a goodnight and make sure they were settled in their rooms, before gently shutting their doors and marching to her and her husband’s room. 

“Hey, love. How we-” Time trailed off as he saw the thunderous look his wife held. Oh no. 

“How would you feel about getting a foster license?”

~

Malon and Time, of course always asked their current children if adopting and fostering was alright with them. Twilight was very eager when he found out Warriors and him were going to be brothers, even if the situation itself was tragic. And both him and Warriors were ecstatic at the implication that Sky might be their brother too. 

“Don’t get too excited.” Time chided when he saw the looks on his boys’ faces. “This doesn’t mean we can adopt him. It may not be what he wants, and he’s been in the foster system for some time now so it’s different than it was with Warriors.” Time explained.

“Is it because my mom…” Warriors trailed off. Warriors’ child psychologist told them that Warriors had a hard time saying the word ‘death’, which was not out of the ordinary for children who were grieving.  

“We were your mother’s emergency contact, love.” Malon explained gently. “So it was easier for us to adopt you. Sky has been in the foster care system for a while now, and they have a lot of precautions to make sure he’s safe. I know this all is very confusing. Do you understand, at least a little bit?” Malon checked, and Warriors nodded slowly. 

“I think so. Well, I hope Sky says yes!” Warriors exclaimed.

“Me too, sweetheart. But don’t push him.” Malon reminded. Overall she was very pleased with how the boys seemed to understand the situation. Then Twilight piped up.

“So… are we going to adopt every friend I make?” Okay maybe Malon would need to explain this one more time. 

~

A week into fostering and Sky was still quiet, but Warriors and Twilight had a habit of making him laugh and bringing him out of his shell. He seemed fascinated whenever Time and Malon gave him even an ounce of attention, and that made their hearts twist painfully. Time, who had similar experiences, had gently explained to Sky that ignoring a child is absolutely not normal, and that he deserved better. The child had not seemed to believe Time completely, but he was slowly getting used to their home life. He enjoyed helping Malon in the garden, asking Time about his job, and playing games with Warriors and Twilight. After two months, Malon and Time thought it was finally the right moment to ask. 

“Sky… would you like to be a permanent member of the family? The option is up to you, but we would love to adopt you if you’ll be happy here.” Through many tears, all Sky could do was nod.

~

Time sighed and cracked his back. A week of desk work made his back make all sorts of fun pops. He wanted to be out in the field again, but life as a detective had been slow so far. Well, he should have been careful what he wished for.

“Detective! I need you to go with Officer Watson.” His captain called out urgently.

“What happened?” Time got up, already grabbing his jacket.

“Two kids. They found them on the streets. They need you to talk to them and calm them down, the EMTs can’t get close without them lashing out.” Well… that wasn’t exactly what Time was expecting. 

“Wait what?” Time halted. “Why me? I’m a detective not an officer.”

“We have no available social services to go into the field, they’re refusing to come with the patrol officers, you have three kids, and a background in negotiation. Now go!” His captain ordered. Time resisted rolling his eyes at the captain’s demanding tone and walked briskly with Officer Watson to a patrol car. What did he mean by kids? If this was the streets of around here, that most likely meant late teens who had run away from home.

~

They were absolutely not in their late teens. By kids, they meant children. They looked younger than his boys, sitting in a dingy alley with torn and dirty clothes. The cops around them were obviously giving them space, but surrounded them loosely to ensure they didn’t run off and get themselves hurt. Well, more hurt. 

The one that looked older was curled protectively around the younger, who had an obviously broken leg with a very worrying amount of blood. It looked like the EMTs couldn’t get close with the older ordering them to get away and shoving the younger’s head deeper into his collarbone.

“Hey, give them a little more space.” Time ordered the officers, who complied once they saw who had spoken. Time kneeled down, giving the boys plenty of space. The oldest looked no older than eight, and had stark, icy blue eyes that peered at Time with distrust and harshness. He had bright blonde hair with an odd pink streak, and Time wondered if the boy had gotten a hold of some hair dye. The younger was in the older boy’s lap, and some of the biggest brown eyes Time had ever seen peered out from behind brunette fringe. 

“Hi. My name is Time.” Time introduced himself, still kneeling a bit away. “What are your names?”

“Like we’d tell you that.” The older one snapped.

“I understand this is scary, but you two aren’t in trouble. We just want to get you two looked over. That leg looks really bad.” Time reassured, looking at the younger’s mangled leg in concern. Time didn’t have long before the EMTs would have no choice but to rush in and Time really didn’t want to get to that point. 

“You don’t understand! You’ll separate us!” The older spoke fiercely, but Time heard the way his voice wavered underneath. 

“Are you two brothers?” Time questioned. 

“W-we don’t have the same parents.” The younger’s timid and pained voice spoke up.

“That doesn’t matter. Not really.” Time assured. “You two seem close.” The younger nodded shyly from against the older’s chest.

“If we go with you, they’ll separate us.” It seemed the older had knowledge and bad experiences with social workers.

“I have an Emergency Foster License.” Time breathed out, suddenly remembering his decision. After him and Malon were powerless to help Sky until after a multitude of paperwork and negotiations were made, Time and Malon got both a normal license and an EFC, so that if a similar situation happened a child could be placed with them and hopefully stay with them for longer than a few days.

“What does that mean?” The younger asked, apparently having heard Time’s whisper of realization.

“If you come with us, you can stay with me until we figure something out. Both of you.” Time offered. These boys were obviously close, Time assumed they met after they had been exiled to the streets. He didn’t want to see them separated either. The older boy looked like he was about to protest, but in drawing the younger boy closer, he agitated his leg, causing the younger boy to cry out in pain. The older snapped his head to look at him, his face softening as he tried to sooth him. 

“I know you want to protect him.” Time addressed the blonde haired one. “I’m sure you’ve done a great job so far. But he needs medical attention. That leg will only get worse, and it’s already not healing properly.” Time didn’t want to scare them, but they needed to know how serious the younger’s leg was. Time could tell it had been a problem for some time, and any longer would mean infection. The older one bit his lip, Time could tell the older was thinking hard about this and he felt his heart squeeze. Someone this young shouldn’t have to make such a huge decision. 

“We’ll stay together?” The older asked.

“I’ll make sure of it.” And Time meant that. He wouldn’t let these two be permanently separated. 

“Will you come with us?” The older asked. Time agreed instantly, although he was a little surprised that the blonde haired boy trusted him enough to ask that. Although, perhaps he was the only one who had shown any interest in keeping the two together, and both boys seemed determined to make sure that happened. 

“I’ll stay with you the entire time if that’s what you want.” Time confirmed, and he kept his promise, even as the younger was loaded into the ambulance.

~

“Let me go!” The blonde haired boy yelled, thrashing in Time’s hold. The younger boy was being taken away into surgery, and the older boy was not happy. In fact, he was absolutely furious. 

“You can’t go into the operating room with him, little one.” Time patiently tried to explain. 

“You promised we’d be together!” The older one protested, not ceasing his struggle.

“We’ll see him as soon as he’s awake.” Time reassured. “But you can’t go with him for now.”

“Why?” The child demanded. Time considered how to explain this, Whenever one of his son’s asked a question about the world, Malon or Time tried to explain it in ways that would make sense to a young mind, instead of getting annoyed at all their questions. 

“Well… when someone is in surgery, they need to be in a very clean environment. Doctors take a lot of special steps to make sure the room is clean, or else germs can get in during the surgery and hurt the person more. Does that make sense?” Time tried his best to explain. The little boy bit his lip, before nodding slowly and relaxing slightly in Time’s grip. 

“How about we sit down, and as soon as it's okay we can see him. Okay?” Time coaxed.

“Okay.” The boy agreed quietly, ceasing his struggle and pulling away from Time. Together they sat, while Time texted Malon to let her know the situation and the promise he had made. He didn’t want to leave the child beside him to make the call, but he needed to let his wife know that he was going to be late… with two extra children along with him. He apologized as many times as he could in his text, but Malon assured him that she knew what she was getting into when they got their licenses.

‘I’ll fill out the paperwork and fax it.’ Malon offered. Bless that woman. 

~

Three hours later, Time sat in a small hospital room as two boys slept in the bed. One with a few bandages here and there, and one with a casted leg. The nurses had tried to scold the blonde boy for crowding the younger, but the icy blue glare could apparently scare off even full grown adults. Just then, a nurse entered the room. 

“Are you the one who filled out the EFC paperwork?” The young woman asked.

“My wife did. Please, call me Time. A nickname.” Time got up to shake the brunette woman’s hand. 

“Nice to meet you! I’m Lydia. I just wanted to inform you that we’re keeping them overnight for observation, especially for the leg.” She explained, gesturing to the smaller boy’s green casted leg. Since the younger wasn’t conscious for choosing the color, they asked the older child if the younger had a favorite color. Apparently it was grass green. “It’s good that we took care of it when we did, but he should be fine with a few weeks of bedrest and the medicine we prescribed. I’ll make sure he has crutches by tomorrow but I recommend at least a week of very minimal movement. He’ll most likely need physical therapy. The other boy’s injuries were mostly superficial.” Time nodded, bringing out his phone.

“Excuse me, I need to text my wife.” he began telling Malon that he would be here overnight, and what to expect. There was no way he was breaking his promise, He would stay until they both got released.

“Of course, no problem at all. Um… I noticed you left their names blank on the paperwork...” The nurse started. 

“They didn’t even give me fake names.” Time replied. “Will that be a problem?”

“It’s certainly not ideal, but it's not the first time that’s happened.” The nurse replied sadly. “Since it’s an EFC, I can submit it and explain the situation. But if you could find out their names eventually, that would be a big help.”

“Thank you so much.” Time was grateful the nurse was being so helpful. This could have gone a lot worse. 

“Of course. Please let me know if you need anything.” The young lady smiled and left to give them some privacy. Time settled in and checked the clock, seeing it was only 11 pm, and countless questions raced through his head. If they were put in the foster system, would anyone want them both? Would anyone be willing to keep up with the younger’s physical therapy? There were good people in the world, but everyone had their limitations. This was going to be a long night. 

~

Both boys seemed genuinely surprised Time was still there in the morning. 

“How are you boys feeling?” Time asked gently. 

“I’m okay.” The older replied, looking down at the small brunette curled up next to him.

“I’m good.” The brunette replied groggily, flinching at the gentle pull of his ear by the older. “I’m tired and I feel numb and dizzy.” The brunette corrected. It seemed the older was used to the younger lying about how he felt. 

“That’s normal.” Time assured. “You’re on a lot of medicine, but it will help you, I promise. And you can rest plenty when we get home. Are you boys okay with staying on the couch? It’s plenty big for both of you. I have three sons at home, but they’re all very nice.” There weren't many options in their home, their last guest room had been converted into Sky’s room months ago. But if their guests weren’t comfortable with that, then he and Malon would figure it out. The littlest one gasped and tugged on the older’s shirt. 

“I’ve never been on a couch before.” The brunette whispered excitedly. Time’s heart stopped completely. Based on the boy’s level of excitement, it seemed that any comfort at all eluded him. Had he ever even had a family? A bed? A room? Anything at all? Based on what he had heard from their conversations, he guessed that the older had run away from a home he was placed in, and the younger seemed to have been on the streets for as long as he could remember. Time had no idea how he had survived on his own so young, but he wasn’t going to question what he was grateful for.

The oldest seemed to notice the look on Time’s face, and quickly replied, trying to take the attention off of the two boys’ situation.

“That’s fine.” He stopped, before whispering “Thank you.” With so much sincerity that Time didn’t even realize it came from the older boy at first.

“It’s no problem.” Time smiled. 

~

After a lot of paperwork, a few calls home, and one wheelchair ride, Time was on his way home with two very tired boys in his backseat. He couldn’t lie, he was nervous bringing the boys home when he knew almost nothing about them. The doctors had told him they estimated their ages to be 7 and 8, so he hoped they would get along with his 8 and 9 year olds. 

“Can I ask for your names?” Time asked, looking in his rearview mirror. The youngest opened his mouth, but the older stopped him.

“No.” The blonde snapped. Time sighed.

“Okay, fair enough. But we need to figure out what to call you boys.” Time hummed thoughtfully, before an idea struck him. “My family has a tradition, we choose our nicknames based on our favorite video game series. Mine is Time, my sons’ are Twilight, Warriors and Sky. If you boys are interested we can do the same for you.” Time offered. The older one looked like he was going to reject the offer, but the younger excitedly tugged on his sleeve. 

“Okay.” The older conceded.

~

Their two guests sat on their upstairs couch, as Time set up the old game console. His sons were doing their best to keep their distance, as Malon had warned them to do, but Time could tell they were excited to see which games the two would pick. After several hours of fascinated playing, the younger had decided he enjoyed ‘Hero of Hyrule’ the most, while the oldest couldn’t decide which one he liked the most. 

“Why don’t you just combine them? The ones you seem to like most were part of the Legend of Oracle series. How about Oracle?” Warriors offered. Over the course of playing, his sons had eased their way to sitting in front of the couch, all excitedly calling out moves with their two guests. Time was grateful they all seemed to get along. Warriors and the older child had taken on a rivalry, but it seemed mostly playful as far as Time could tell. The child wrinkled his nose at Warriors’ ‘Oracle’ suggestion. “Okay… Legend?” Warriors offered, and the boy’s eyes seemed to light up, before he quickly tried to hide his excitement. “Legend is fine. Hyrule fine with you, kid?” The older asked the younger, and the brunette beamed and nodded. 

“Legend and Hyrule it is.” Time confirmed, At this point he should make a knighting ceremony.

One month later, their foster time was up, and Malon and Time knew they couldn’t give those two up so easily. After talking to their boys, who agreed full heartedly that they didn't want Legend and Hyrule to go, they arranged their bedroom so Twilight and Warriors would share, since Sky thrived on having his own space sometimes, and Hyrule and Legend could share Sky’s old room. Malon and Time felt guilty their children had to share, and they didn’t want them to feel jealous two more boys were moving in. But their boys made it very adamant that they wanted Hyrule and Legend to be a part of their family if that’s what the two boys wanted.

A few days, one question, many joyous tears, and one surprise bedroom later, Time had two more sons.

~

Word got around quickly that Time had five children. Twilight and Warriors had turned ten, their birthdays only two months apart. Sky was almost ten, and Legend had just recently turned nine according to his old birth certificate they managed to scrounge up. They had no idea when Hyrule’s birthday was, so they went off of the guess that the boy was seven, and they let Hyrule choose his new birthday. Legally that was very rare, but nop one had any idea what to do with a little boy that hadn’t officially existed in official records until his first trip to the hospital. The little boy had chosen the day he first went home with Time as his birthday, which Time absolutely did not find adorable. Nope, not at all.

But word of his five children quickly got around his job, and he was called in for many cases where interviewing children was involved. 

“Time!” His captain yelled across the precinct. Time instantly stood at attention and walked to the captain’s office. 

“Yes, sir?” Time replied dutifully. As much as his bossy tone annoyed Time sometimes, the man was a good captain, and he had a good heart.

“I need you in Interrogation Room 2. Four kids were caught stealing from the convenience store on 34th.” The captain passed Time a case folder.

“Children as in…”

“We think they’re about eight, they appear to be quadruplets, all identical.” The captain replied, and Time almost dropped the case file.

“They’re eight?” Time asked incredulously. “Why the hell are they in an interrogation room?” Time’s voice was on the verge of yelling. 

“We don’t know what else to do!” His captain snapped. “Quadruplets are rre, and yet we can’t find any recent records of any, so we don’t think they have parents. They won’t even tell us their first names.” The captain sighed, obviously having his fill with the mysterious case. 

“Okay. But I’m not interrogating them.” Time said firmly. 

“We don’t want you too. They’re not under arrest, they’re children. But we can’t just let them go without a parent or guardian.”

“Okay… I’ll see if I can find out anything from them.” Time stood and began walking out.

“Oh, and Time?” His captain called out, making Time pause in the doorway.

“Yes?” Time asked, not liking his captain’s smirk.

“Try to restrain from adopting these ones.”

“Ha ha.”

~

When his captain said identical, he really meant identical. The main difference was they each had a different colored shirt on, but each was dirty and torn. And when looking closely, Time could see a few slight differences in their faces. Time sat down in front of them quietly. 

“Hi there. My name is Time. Could you tell me your names?” Time asked, and unsurprisingly, he was met with silence. “I know this room looks a little scary,” Time began, and the one in purple scoffed,”but”, Time continued,”You guys aren’t under arrest or anything. We just can’t let you go without a parent or guardian.”

“But… we don’t have one.” The one in red said hesitantly, going quiet again when the one in blue nudged him under the table.

“There’s no one talking care of you?” Time asked gently. “Is that why you needed to steal from the store?”

“We’re just trying to survive.” The one in green spoke up for his brothers. He was obviously protective over them. 

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I understand.” Time began. “I wasn’t always in the best living situations when I was little-”

“Don’t try that.” The one in blue piped up, his brown eyes identical to his brothers’. “Don’t try to relate to us. No one can, no one can even tell us apart. If we switch clothes right now you wouldn’t know who was who. Just let us leave.” Time raised an eyebrow. These boys were all certainly intelligent. 

“The one in red has two freckles to the left of his left eye. The one in green has a sharper jawline. The one in blue has a light freckle on his chin, and the one in purple has a thinner nose.” Time rambled off perfectly, only to be met with stunned silence. 

“No one’s ever…” The one one started before trailing off. All four brother’s looked stunned that Time had even bothered to tell them apart. 

“I can help you more if you tell me your names?” Time asked once again. 

“We don’t have any.” The one in green finally answered in a hushed voice.

“What?” Time asked, surely he hadn’t heard correctly.

“We don’t have any.” The one in violet said again. “Everyone just calls us Four. We’re just one person to them… no one bothered to name us.” Time felt his world shatter. No names… their entire identity reliant on the fact that they were four. 

“We don;t have anywhere to go.” The one in red whispered. “Please, just let us go.” Oh no. Not again. He was never going to live this down…

“You could come with me.”

~

After a sheepish call to his wife, and uproarious laughter from his captain and fellow officers, Time had a car loaded with identical children. Three in back and one in front.

“Um…” Time filled the awkward silence. “Just so you boys know, my wife and five kids are waiting for us, but they won’t bombard you or anything. I just thought you ought to know.” Time warned.

“I’m sorry, did you say five?” The blue one asked, stunned. Honestly all the boys seemed stunned the entire way home, like they couldn’t believe this was happening. Time had similar feelings. Bless his wife for being so understanding and loving, and his sons for being so accepting. 

“Yeah.” Time rubbed his neck sheepishly, keeping on hand on the wheel. “They’re around your age actually.” 

“Oh! Are they… twins or anything?” The one in violet asked, a slight hope to his voice, and Time felt guilty about shooting that hope down.

“Oh, no I’m sorry. Four of them are technically adopted.” Time corrected. It sometimes took the stunned looks to remind him that having five kids around the same age wasn’t ‘normal’. They were his sons and that was all that mattered.

“Oh… wow.” The one in violet said, not knowing what to say. Time didn’t either.

“Will we… finally get names?” The one in red asked with a quiet hope. 

“Hmm. Funny you should mention that. You see, my family has a tradition…”

~

The newly dubbed Red, Green, Blue and Vio, were all having a blast playing Four Swords. The boys were amazing at working together to solve puzzles, which made sense when Time reviewed the security footage of the theft they pulled off before they were caught. Vio and Blue had a hard time getting along with his sons at first, but they all eventually settled in and got closer. His sons were watching the four work in perfect harmony in awe, while Malon and Time were in the kitchen talking in hushed voices.

“Malon, I’m so sorry. But they were all alone and-” Time panicked, and Malon quietly shushed him. 

“Time, they’re wonderful.” Malon assured, that bright and sincere smile he fell in love with on her gentle face. “But they get along with our kids so well. I think you and I both know where this is going.” Time leaned down and buried his head in her shoulder. 

“I love them already. So much, and I barely even know them. But Malon… four? We don't have the space. Sure I’m in for a promotion, but we don’t have the room. And what about our sons? What will they think?” Malon stroked his back and shushed him, and Time felt bad she had to comfort him like this.

“I’m worried about our sons too.” Malon sighed. “I think we should talk to them one by one, ask them truthfully and make sure they don’t think we’re replacing them. Twilight especially.” Time nodded into Malon’s shoulder.

“As for moving…” Malon started mischievously. He should have already known she had a plan. 

“Well, you’ve always wanted to raise horses, and my father is moving away, he wants to travel and be on the road again. And he really wants that ranch to stay in the family…”

~

After talking to each of their boys individually, Malon and Time were reassured that no, no one thought they were being replaced, and yes, everyone wanted Red, Blue Green, and Vio in the family. In fact, the more the family grew the more excited each boy got. And when they received the news of the potential move to a ranch that was big, near town, and had the potential to have animals, the boys absolutely lost their minds in excitement, Twilight especially. Now all that was left was to ask the quadruplets if they wanted this.

“Boys…” Malon started. They had sat Red, Green, Blue and Red on their bed within time and Malon’s bedroom, the door sealed shut to give them some privacy. All of the boys looked nervous, fidgeting and holding onto each other.

“I know this is a big decision, and just know that there is no pressure either way.” After three conversations similar to this one, Malon and Time were pros at this.

“We would love for you to be permanent members of the family. We would love to adopt you all if you want.” Time finished to stunned silence. Red promptly burst into tears.

“We thought you were getting rid of us!” Red cried out. 

“Oh sweetie, no.” Malon cooed. “I’m so sorry for scaring you all.” She pulled red into a hug and opened her arms for the rest to join in. Time surrounded them all in his arms.

“I think I can speak for us all.” Green joked, ever mature for his age. “We would love that, if you’ll have us.” The rest of his brothers nodded. Time heard a voice outside their door that sounded suspiciously like Warriors calling out ‘yes!’ behind the thick wood, followed by a frantic hush that sounded like Legend. Time put a finger to his lips, before sneaking over to the door. The boys on the bed covered their mouths to hush their laughter. Time yanked the door open quickly, five boys comically tumbling over into the bedroom.

“Boys!” Time scolded over the groaning pile of limbs. Hyrule had thankfully landed on top, his leg was healing but it was still quite weak. Time tried to be mad, he really did, but hearing the giggling of his wife and new sons made it extremely hard to be angry. Five pairs of eyes all peered up at him, and Time simply sighed. “Go on, then.” Time jerked his head towards the bed, and five boys rushed over (Hyrule being helped by Sky), and tackled their new brothers in hugs.

“Four!” Twilight called excitedly. “That’s a new record!”

~

Hectic months had passed by. It turns out Lon Lon Ranch was the perfect home for their family. Time had never seen Malon so happy, to have all this room to farm once again. Time himself wasn’t half bad, he was finally able to move Epona out of the stables he paid to keep her in and could spend far more time with her, spoiling her with apples and attention. Twilight was certainly happy to spend more time with the sweet horse as well. Each boy had their own job on the ranch, so work was done quickly and often within an hour. Twilight, now eleven, absolutely adored the goats Malon’s father left behind, and took extra good care of them. Warriors, on the cusp of eleven, liked painting making sure everything looked nice. Sky, now ten, took care of the cuccos because, for some reason, he got along with the little devil spawn extremely well. Legend, now 9 on the cusp of 10, would fill in wherever he was needed. He didn’t like or dislike any chores on the farm, but Malon and Time could tell he was happy here. Hyrule, who just turned 8, loved taking care of the animals with Twilight, and his leg had been getting much stronger with months of physical therapy. Red, Green, Blue, and Vio, who had, like Hyrule, chosen their own birthday and believed themselves to be about 9, loved crafting anything they could get their hands on. Malon had to teach them extra safety measures since they were so young, but they made anything from horseshoes, to little inventions around the farm. Overall, even though his life was hectic, Time was happier than he had ever been. 

That’s why, on a rainy day, a little boy crashing onto his doorstep was the last thing he expected. But really, Time should expect the unexpected at this point. 

“What was that?” Little Warriors called once he was down the stairs. 

“Warriors, you’re supposed to be in bed.” Time scolded half heartedly as he too went to see what caused the crash on his porch. Time wandered out, his heart stopping as he realized it was a tiny boy with bleach blonde hair. Warriors gasped and ran over. “Warriors, careful.” Time chided and he went to check the boy. He was absolutely soaked, and had seemed to succumb to exhaustion. Time checked him over, and picked the tiny boy up upon seeing no injuries.

“War, go tell your mom to grab towels and bring them up to the guest room, and grab his bag.” Warriors did as he was told without complaint. Time brought the little boy up to their guest room, waiting to set him down so as to not soak the blankets. With how many children they had, Time was surprised they even had a guest room. But the ranch was much larger than their old home, and the quadruplets refused to even consider not sharing a room. Legend and Hyrule also wanted to share a room, and so did Twilight and Warriors. Sky was the only one who had his own room. Time checked, as usual, with a counselor and she told him it was normal that after what his sons had been through, they would want to share spaces. She did say that as they got older they would most likely want their own spaces, so Time and Malon had been saving up for an extension to the ranch. But for now, they had a spare room. 

Malon rushed in with multiple towels, not asking any questions as she began to dry the boy off. Time appreciated that, since he had no answers. They got the boy settled. It was frustrating that all they could do was wait, but the boy wouldn’t wake up. So they waited.

An hour later, the boy finally began to stir. Both Time and Malon had waited so the child wouldn’t panic at waking alone in a strange room. Warriors had also refused to go to bed, and had stayed with them. Something about the smaller boy had struck a chord with him. Deep blue eyes opened, saw the three sitting near him, and panicked.

“Dear, it’s alright.” Malon shushed. “We found you on our porch and we dried you off. We’re not going to hurt you.” The boy calmed slightly, but still curled into himself.

“I’m sorry.” The boy mumbled, looking down in shame.

“Sweetheart it’s alright.” Malon reassured. “It’s no problem.”

“I stole.” The boy whispered, ashamed. “I stole some food and Grandma said never to steal but I was so hungry.” The little boy rambled on, pointing to his bag. Time gently picked up the sea themed bag and peeked inside. 

“These don’t look like our crops.” Time showed Malon. It didn’t matter if they were his or not, a hungry little boy had taken some food and Time didn’t care if some of his crops got lost if it meant this boy was fed. 

“The scary man at the other house chased me and I ran. I’m sorry I stole, I was just so hungry.” The boy sobbed, and Warriors had apparently deemed that enough. The older boy got up and pulled the younger into a hug, gentle enough that the little boy could escape if he wanted, but he burrowed into Warriors’ chest. The scary man next door… oh, probably Ingo. Time didn’t really interact with the man that much, but he did seem quite rude. 

“It’s okay.” Time reassured once the boy’s sobs had calmed down. “How about we make you some stew.” Time offered, and the boy peered up hopefully. “How old are you?” Time asked. He had to know, but he knew the answer would crush him.

“Six.” The boy replied, unknowing of Time’s heart rate increasing. Hell… six years old.

“I’ll go make the stew.” Malon stated gently, but her message was clear. I’ll go make the food, you get information. 

“What’s your name, little one?” Time asked. The younger just shook his head, and Time resisted a sigh. What was it with him and running into little boys who didn’t like giving away their names?

“Do you have any parents?” Time asked his next question, but he had already guessed the answer. The little boy shook his head, still clinging onto Warriors, his little hand gripping the older boy’s scarf he always wore.

“I had my grandma but…” The boy's lip quivered. “She got sick. And Aryll and I got taken away.” The boy finished, fresh tears leaking out. 

“Aryll?” Warriors questioned. 

“My little sister.” Wind answered. “They took us away. I found out she was ‘dopted.” The little boy bit his lip, thinking of the word. “But they said I wouldn’t be. I’m too old and she was young. They told me she was happy. I just want her to be happy, but they told me I wouldn’t be ‘dopted because I was too old.” Wind cried out. “So I ran away.” Wind finished, and Time was stunned. He didn’t even think he could relay that awful story to Malon.

“You can stay with us for as long as you want.” Time offered. “And we can try and find your sister.” The little boy whispered a quiet ‘thank you’, before succumbing to sleep once again in Warriors arms. Time offered to tuck the boy in. 

“No… I’m okay here.” Warriors rejected, shuffling to lean against the pillows with the small boy in his arms. Time smiled sadly at how close they seemed already. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back kiddo.” Time told Warriors. He really needed to talk to Malon.

~

“Sweetheart?” Malon prodded gently at the boy sleeping in Warriors’ arms. “We have some stew for you.” Thankfully the little boy woke up this time. As much as Malon wanted to spoil the boy with food, she knew that anything heavier than stew could do more harm than good. The boy’s groggy eyes opened and lit up at the smell of food. 

“Really?” The boy asked shyly.

“Really.” Malon handed the boy his bowl while Warriors ensured he didn’t spill any.

“Thank you.” The boy smiled, and Malon felt her heart melt. 

“Anytime. Now my husband said you had a little sister.” Malon brought up gently. To her surprise the boy lit up once more. “Mhm! Her name is Aryll. I’m a big brother!” The boy said excitedly, before becoming sad once more. “She got ‘dopted. But she’s happy.” The boy had a bittersweet smile that Malon never wanted to see on such a young face. 

“So… you know where she is?” Malon pressed gently. The boy hesitated, then nodded. 

“I snuck up and looked in the window. I don’t remember where though.” The boy murmured, voice filled with guilt. “She was giggling and laughing. The mean lady told me that ‘dopted meant she had new parents.” Malon wondered who ‘the mean lady was’, but it sounded like whoever it was had no tact whatsoever.

“Do they know she has a big brother?” Time questioned, watching the child shake his head. 

“She got taken away from me.” The little boy teared up again. Time doubted that Aryll simply forgot about her brother, even if she was younger. Perhaps her new family simply didn’t know where to look since the boy had run away. 

“If you want, you can stay here and we can help figure it all out.” Time offered after sharing a look with his wife. Warriors’ eyes grew in excitement as he looked at the little boy in his arms. 

“...Thank you.” The boy peered up at them shyly.

“Do you want to tell us your name?” Malon prodded, but the boy bit his lip. His name didn’t feel the same without Aryll to call out for him excitedly. 

“Family Tradition?” Warriors asked his parents, eyes full of mischief. 

“Is there any other way at this point?” Time asked in a dry voice. Warriors laughed and explained the tradition to the little boy still tucked in his arms. After some contemplation, the little boy spoke up. 

“Do you have one about pirates?”

~

Warriors and his new friend played Wind Waker until dawn. The newly named ‘Wind’ was too immersed to sleep, and Warriors claimed he wasn’t tired. Time and Malon decided to let them have their fun for tonight. 

In the morning, Time and Malon went into each of their son’s rooms a little early and explained the situation. Most were excited, but they knew not to bombard their guest. It turned out, however, that Wind was an absolute chatterbox once he was comfortable in his environment. He talked Warriors’ ear off about pirates all night, and greeted all of the other boys in the house when they awoke.

Time went to the next door plot of land and paid Ingo back for the crops WInd had taken so the man wouldn’t see the boy and do anything like call the police. The man wasn’t happy, but Time didn’t exactly care.

~

Soon a month had passed having a happy six year old on the ranch, before they managed to track down Wind’s sister. Time and Malon were planning to go over the next afternoon and explain the situation to the little girl’s new parents. Wind was excited, of course he was, but everyone could tell something was eating at him. 

“Wind, honey.” Malon kneeled down in the kitchen as her sons busied themselves elsewhere. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I need to be a good big brother. But…” Wind trailed off. “I really like it here.” The boy sniffled. Malon hadn’t even thought of that…

“Wind, maybe you could stay with us. You and Aryll could see each other whenever possible. I’m sorry honey, I know it's such a big choice to make, but no one will be mad no matter what you want to do. We just want you to be happy.” The little boy’s looked up at Malon with big eyes. 

“Can… Can I talk to Wars?” Malon nodded and called Warriors from outside. The boys loved playing flashlight tag all around the ranch, and WInd would usually join them with a beaming smile. Tonight however, he just sat solemnly in the kitchen. Warriors came in from the backdoor, and Malon left to go talk to her husband in their bedroom. 

“Wind? What’s wrong?” Warriors took Wind’s small hand and led them to the living room, sitting them both down on the couch.

“What if they don’t want me?” Wind asked with another sniffle, and Wars figured he meant Aryll’s parents. 

“Then they’re stupid.” Wars stated. 

“What if… what if I don’t want them. Wars, I don’t want to go.” Wind cried out, burying his head in his hands. Warriors pulled him into a hug. “Malon said I could stay, and I could see Aryll, but what if she hates me? What if Grandma would hate me for replacing her? What if-” Warriors shushed Wind gently. 

“When I was seven…” Warriors started, taking a big breath. “When I was seven my mom and I got into a really bad crash.” Wind peered up at Warriors. “I was okay, but my mom- my mom didn’t make it out.” Wars whispered, trying to keep his tears at bay. “Malon and Time took me in without a second thought. And at first, I had a hard time being around Malon. She… reminded me too much of my mom. But then I realized that Malon would never replace my mom, just like she won’t replace your grandma. She would never try to, and neither would Time. They’re my mom and my dad, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still love my mom.” Warriors finished, and Wind just looked up at him with big eyes. “I don’t know your sister, but I think we all just want you to be happy, little pirate.” Wind threw himself at Warriors’ chest once again. A few minutes later, Time and Malon emerged from upstairs. 

“Can I… Can I really stay?” Wind asked hopefully.

“Of course.” Time confirmed without hesitation. 

“And I can still see Aryll?”

“Anytime you want.” Malon promised. “She is always welcome here, and she doesn’t live that far away from what we’ve seen.

Wind spent the rest of the night playing flashlight tag with his brothers, and chattering excitedly about how he would get to see his sister the next day.

~

Time truly thought he was done adopting children. What a fool he was. 

Except this round, it wasn’t even his fault! It was his oldest son’s fault!

Time stared at his sheepish 12 year old from the doorway of his and Warriors’ room. More specifically, he was staring at the small body hiding behind his 12 year old son. 

“Son…” Time started, already exasperated by the situation. 

“...Yes Dad?” twilight asked with an innocent smile, as if he wasn’t very obviously hiding an entire child behind his back. 

“Who’s behind you?” Time raised an eyebrow. 

“Uhhh…” Twilight trailed off, looking behind him. “You can come out, cub. He won’t hurt you.” Twilight assured the body behind him.

“Cub?” Time questioned.

“I found him in an abandoned fox den!” Twilight defended. Time pinched the bridge of his nose. This entire situation was ridiculous.

“And why, pray tell, did you hide him in your room?” Time asked his eldest. Did Warriors even know there was a child hidden in his room?

“Well.” Twilight began, as if Time was the one who was being ridiculous. “I was going to hide him in here for a bit until you and Mom got home and sneak him some food. I was going to tell you, but you got home early. Dad…” Time perked up at his son’s serious tone. “He’s terrified of people. From what I can tell he has no one, and I worked for an hour to build up enough trust for him to come with me. He doesn’t talk and he was all alone! I couldn’t just leave him there!” Twilight defended, gently coaxing out the little boy behind him. The first thing Time noticed was the scars. Burn marks all over the boy’s face and exposed torso, down to his legs. The boy was only wearing a pair of shorts, and Time wondered how he hadn’t frozen out there. He had to be only seven or eight. Time sighed once again.

“Twi… I’m not mad, I’m not. But where will he stay?” Twilight perked up with a hope in his eyes.

“He can stay with me!” Twilight gestured to where the little one was practically attached to the older boy’s leg. It seemed once the little boy trusted someone, he absolutely was not going to let go. Time kneeled down to be more level with the little boy, who buried his face further into Twilight’s leg. 

“Hello there.” Time said gently. “My name is Time. I’m Twilight’s dad. Do you want some food?” The little one’s eyes lit up in excitement, peering up to look at Twilight, as if asking permission. 

“Does food sound good, Cub?” The little boy nodded slightly, and it was the most Time knew he would get out of the little boy. 

“I’ll go make some stew and warn the others. You’re telling your mother this time.”

~

By the time Malon had arrived back to the ranch from her trip to the city, the Cub had been washed and fed, and Twilight had managed to wiggle the boy into some old clothes. The little boy looked quite happy about all of these, and Twilight even heard a little giggle. Malon had managed to introduce herself gently without the little boy panicking, but he was still attached to Twilight. The older boy didn’t seem to mind very much.

Time decided the best approach to introducing the little boy to the family would be to take it one member at a time, except for the quadruplets who would all be introduced at the same time to avoid later confusion at their similar appearances. Twilight took to the normal naming ceremony, the little boy excitedly picked out the cover with a vast field of wildlife, including a fox. 

Wild spent the rest of the evening on Twilight’s lap being taught how to work the controller and gasping in delight at all the things he could do. Specifically all the things he could light on fire. Time would worry about that another day. 

In between playing, Wild was introduced to the rest of the family. There were some bumps, such as confused sobbing when he saw four identical boys, but other than that it went as well as expected. The introduction with Hyrule probably went the best, since the boys had similar backstories. Time saw those two becoming partners in crime. Twilight promised he would figure out if Wild could talk or not, and if he couldn’t, Twilight promised he would find another way to communicate. 

Overall, Wild was the most fast and unexpected acquisition of a child, but Time couldn’t say he was overly upset.

“So, another one then.” Malon teased after all their boys were tucked in.

“It appears so.” Time replied gruffly. 

“Hm. Like father, like son.” 

Time promptly banged his head on the table.

Idk I might upload an epilogue if y’all are interested.

Is this fic accurate to how the real world works? Nah. But this is an AU based on fiction, I did my best.

I’m going to specify that the video games the boys are named after aren’t the Legend of Zelda, they’re just random old games. This isn’t insanely meta or anything I just thought it would be a funny little easter egg haha.

Have an amazing week everyone!

[trashytummiez]

Idia ate way too much and has a tummyache that Yuu needs to settle by coaxing out some really big burps from the shy boi which Yuu swoons over.

"Unnnngh Yuuuuu..." Idia whined from atop his bed. He was laying down on his side with his arms wrapped protectively around his tummy with tears welling up from his eyes. "Why does my tummy feel like it's gonna explode...??"

Yuu smiled sympathetically and crawled in bed behind the whimpering boy. It was a wonder his fiery blue hair didn't burn her chest or the bed. Instead it felt like a comforting warmth like a space heater not real flames. Her hands wrapped around Idia's waist and rested squarely against his tummy. Even behind his oversized blue hoodie it felt so big and bloated which caused her cheeks to darken. "Feels like you stress-ate too much again. Any projects coming up?"

"...P-Presentation...a-and Ortho isn't gonna be available..." Idia whimpered and trembled a little both from having Yuu's hands planted against his immensely bloated tummy and the reminder that he was gonna be flying solo and have to speak in front of the whole class.

"No wonder," Yuu replied. "Poor guy..."

"...J-Just the thought of all those eyes staring up at me and judging me...th-thinking I'm some weirdo loser who d-doesn't belong there..." Idia's body tensed up and more tears welled from the corners of his eyes from anxiety-induced fears.

"Shhhh it's okay babe. It's okay," Yuu assured her cripplingly anxious boyfriend. She pulled him a little closer and rubbed circles into the middle of Idia's stretched out tummy to help him calm down.

She wrapped her fingers around the bottom of Idia's hoodie and pulled it up high exposing the whole of his bloated pale tummy in all its smooth bare expanse. Yuu's hands grabbed at Idia's stretched out stomach where she began to firmly tenderly rub it using both hands. Idia whimpered but clutched at his sheets a little with a soft huff not yet used to physical contact but growing to really like it especially whenever Yuu rubbed his belly. His tummy rub was starting to have the desired relaxing impact Yuu wanted it to have on him.

"Tell you what Idia. If Ortho can't be there for support how about I see if your professor will let me stick around for your presentation? Ace and I aren't in class that time anyway. We usually just hang out until our next period so I could skip out a little to be there and give you that boost you need."

Idia's eyes widened in surprise. "Y-You'd d-do that for me...?"

Yuu giggled and teasingly slapped Idia's belly which made the boy hiccup loudly and blush.

"Of course I would silly. Why wouldn't I be there to support someone I care so much about?"

Idia's lips trembled. He wasn't used to anyone showing so much genuine care and kindness towards him besides Ortho. To know that someone cared so much about him was almost enough to make Idia cry.

"...Th-Thank you..." Idia muttered softly and thankfully.

Yuu smiled and continued lovingly rubbing all over Idia's rounded tummy.

He loved the feeling but he knew he had to find some way to show Yuu how grateful he was to her. Some token or act of kindness he could repay her for so it didn't just feel like she was the one who always had to be there for him. But his thoughts were interrupted when his tummy uttered a large and unpleasant gurgle.

"...Unnngh...ohhh my tummy..." Idia muttered embarrassed that his stomach was still griefing him.

Yuu didn't mind. Any excuse to keep her hands all over his belly was all she needed.

Her delicate fingers stroked the sides of his glutted tummy gently running up to the peak of his stomach and down to his undersides where she would grip the bottom of Idia's bulging belly and give it a gentle jiggle. The way everything in his expanded stomach sloshed around made her swoon and got her to squeeze at Idia's underbelly. Idia blushed immensely when an audible moan exited his mouth almost involuntarily. He really wasn't used to expressing delight like that but he couldn't help it~nothing felt better to him than Yuu showing his overstuffed tummy some love.

Yuu gripped Idia's lower tummy which made him bite his lower lip with his fangs. "Your belly is so big," Yuu fawned adoringly whilst holding Idia's belly in her hands. "You really pack it away when you're nervous huh..." Yuu took note and gave Idia's soft rounded stomach a few teasing pats. Idia's round exposed belly jiggled from all of Yuu's pats and something inside bubbled heavily and noisily.

Idia hiccuped suddenly and covered his mouth with a blush. He hiccuped again but stifled it the second time because the hiccup morphed into a deep rumbling burp Idia muffled in his closed mouth. His cheeks went dark with embarrassment from the sound while Yuu's went dark for a different reason.

"...Lotta pressure in there huh," Yuu noted in a quiet but excited tone of voice. She held Idia's belly in her hands and felt it emit a gassy churn that made her shudder and made Idia cringe.

Yuu firmly rubbed Idia's bulging belly to circulate the gas brewing inside of him. It worked in that she felt his tummy gurgling more heavily. Idia whimpered before another closed-mouth burp rumbled loudly in his mildly puffed cheeks.

"Don't hold back babe," Yuu insisted in a tone that made her desires plain as day. Especially when she lightly slapped Idia's belly to make it jiggle and slosh.

Idia whimpered when he felt more gas rushing up his throat. He wasn't used to letting loose freely unless he was gaming with his clan mates. But he was aware of his girlfriends fetishes and had to admit that he was increasingly fond of having her hands all over his belly like that. So when the gas reached his mouth he indulged her by letting his jaws part with a loud and brassy burp that rumbled hard enough to make some drool dribble out of Idia's mouth.

BBBRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPP!!!!!

Idia blushed and covered his mouth with a deep blush and an adorably timid "excuse me...!" But Yuu shuddered so intensely that it made Idia's bloated tummy jiggle just slightly from the vibration of her own pleased spasm.

She pushed her thumb into the side of Idia's round tummy squishing into it so hard it sank a bit into his bloated flesh. Idia couldn't suppress the enormous burp that rumbled out of his mouth even if he tried. Which he did hence why his cheeks puffed out momentarily before his lips almost rippled open with the rushing gas.

Idia's cheeks were darker from embarrassment but he couldn't help moan a little.

"...Ohhh wow...that felt good..."

"Atta boy get it all out," Yuu insisted especially eagerly and gave Idia's tummy a couple of resounding pats. The way his belly jiggled with those pats was enough to make Yuu swoon right there but it also jiggled up some festering gas. Idia burped long and loud from the patting and uttered a cute little after burp when it finished.

Idia's moan of relief after was just too much for Yuu.

"Sit up," Yuu instructed with a voice that did little to mask how deeply turned on she was.

Idia heaved himself up with an audible groan. He felt so heavy that it actually took some effort to get up and the way his big stretched tummy swayed really emphasized how bloated he was. He sat on his knees and faced Yuu with his large round tummy spilling out and facing directly before Yuu.

She very eagerly grabs at its sides and kneads his large tummy eagerly but lovingly. Her hands rub it up and down and she leans down to plant a kiss at the high rounded crest of his stomach and another one directly above his cute belly button. Idia whimpered from the affection but actually smiled somewhat all the same.

Yuu began to really knead into his belly like it was a big ball of dough. She felt it churn and groan noisily in her hands and squeezed it while she kneaded. Idia turned his head and raised a fist in front of his mouth as a heavy burp rolled past his lips and left Idia huffing with an exhale relief.

"Ooooof..."

The look of relief on Idia's face and that verbalization drove Yuu crazy. And because Idia's tummy was hurting less with each bellowing eruption he didn't object either.

In fact he slumped back on the bed resting both hands against the mattress and sprawling his legs out to make his bloated tummy stick out even more for Yuu to rub knead and fondle. He huffed at the feeling of her kneading into his belly letting his tongue almost stick out.

She pushed her palms deep into the center of Idia's belly right into his belly button.

Idia threw his head back and burped so loudly and so hard that Yuu swore that his bed actually shook. Though it was probably just her was that shook.

AAAAAAAAAUUUUUURRRRRHHHHOOOOOOOOORRRREEEEEEUUUUURRRRRRHHPPP!!!!!!!!!

Idia slumped back and moaned heavily in deep relief.

"Nnnnngh...wow did my tummy need that..." Idia groaned gently patting his belly with relief. "...I didn't even think I could burp that loudly before..."

His eyes met Yuu's and he could see how visibly aroused he was and giggled a little nervously.

"...Umm...d-d-did you like that...?" He asked in a genuinely adorable sort of way. Idia was incapable of properly teasing someone's kinks with any degree of confidence. But that one just desperately needed to come out.

That his girlfriend enjoyed it so much was just a very happy byproduct.

"...You're amazing," Yuu muttered leaning forward with her hands still on Idia's stuffed tummy and planting her lips onto his blue ones for a deep passionate kiss.

Idia's eyes went wide as tennis balls and his blue hair immediately brightened to a real fire color while his pale cheeks went strawberry red.

When she pulled away Yuu smiled and lightly stroked his tummy as Idia sat there and sputtered in a ridiculously yet adorably flustered way. But when she rubbed she kneaded some more into his tummy pushing into it with her fingers like she was checking to see if Idia had any more pressure to let out.

It wasn't a big one like that last breath-stopper was but Idia still had a pretty sizable pressure pocket roll up from his tummy and up his throat.

But this time the nervous boy in a spur of the moment decision leaned in close and burped right in Yuu's face.

UUUUUUUURRRREEEEEUUUUUUURRRRHP!!!!!

Yuu sat there looking absolutely stunned.

Idia shifted nervously and scratched the back of his head. "...T-Too much...?"

Apparently so because poor Idia suddenly yelped when Yuu yanked him close by the collar of his hoodie and passionately made out with the anxious boy right there.

This was such an odd relationship sometimes. Idia knew all about fetishes and what not but never realized he could indulge things like that for anyone else. And he wasn't sure whether that information should embolden him or scare the living daylights out of him.

But whichever one Idia fell under it was honestly worth it to make his girlfriend happy in any way he could.

If that meant being occasional kink fuel for his significant other then Idia was okay with that. Anything to be a good boyfriend to such a wonderful girlfriend.

[since0202]

Chapter 21: Return

When Grace shut the door behind her, Paul was coming around the front of the truck to her when they heard a voice shout out across the clearing to them. They were still a little early, but some members of the pack were there building the bonfire pit and helping some of the community set up tables for the food spread. 

“Hey!” Jared shouted across the field. Paul raised a hand and waved back, stuffing his keys into his pocket before holding his hand out to Grace who gladly took it. 

“This feels so official,” Grace said leaning into him as they walked in step with one another. 

“Oh it is. The binding ceremony is a real ball buster, but worth it if I get to kiss you in public,” he said nonchalantly. Grace looked up at him confused for a minute and then said, 

“You’re so full of shit, Lahote.” He laughed and unfurled his hand from hers to drape it across her shoulder instead and pulled her into him to kiss the top of her head before they reached the group. 

They entered the raucous of hoots and hollers from the pack. Grace gave Emily a quick hug before settling next to her quickly as Paul helped prepare the bonfire with the others. Grace always felt at home here. Speaking of home: 

“Weird question,” Emily had asked after she confirmed with Grace that her and Paul had made it official. She seemed pleased when Grace had said they were so that was a good sign. 

“Shoot,” Grace said. 

“After graduation, are you planning on moving back to the rez?” Emily asked casually. Grace felt like she had been smacked with a 2x4. 

“Umm, I mean. I don’t know my plans just yet, but….maybe?” Grace said suddenly. Where were these words coming from? Grace had planned on taking some classes at the community college in the fall to get her bearings for the next step, but the Spirit Bird thing had kind of thrown things off course for her. Her grades were good enough to get into local schools according to her advisor but she didn’t know if she was ready to leave just yet. 

“Think about it. The tribe has money set aside to help tribe members relocate to the rez and find a home here. I’m sure Paul would love it, and you clearly belong here.” Emily nudged her on that last one. 

“Thanks, yeah. I’ll-I’ll think about it.” Grace said. Suddenly there was a flurry of activity around her as the rest of the tribe drew near for the lighting of the bonfire. Paul had come over and handed her a drink before taking her back to their spot. 

As the council members gave updates about the tribe, Grace settled into Paul’s side, however she couldn’t help her eyes dancing around the group to see if Jake would show. When she and Emily were talking, Quil and Embry were close by discussing Jake’s whereabouts. Apparently he’d been gone for a couple days now. Grace breathed a sigh of relief that he might not yet know that she and Paul were a thing. She wasn’t ashamed, she just wanted to be in this happy bubble a little while longer. 

But her bubble quickly burst when she saw just outside the ring of people, Jacob’s towering frame, arms crossed and looking toward the fire. She made eye contact with him for a half a second trying to keep her thoughts clear before laying her head on Paul’s shoulder to continue listening. 

Once the official business was wrapped up, they broke for food—the most fun part of bonfire night. 

“Want me to grab you something?” Paul said eagerly, a hand lightly placed around her waist. 

“Sure! Whatever you’re getting just grab me some. I’m going to make the rounds,” Grace gestured over her shoulder to a waiting crowd looking in her direction. 

“Go on, Spirit Bird,” he kissed her forehead and let her slip away toward the group. She was greeted cheerfully by the throng of people waiting to receive her. 

Grace noticed more and more that part of her role as Spirit Bird was not just the connecting link between the wolves that made them work better together, or the fact that she could provide protection with her shield and whatever other abilities waited under the surface, but she was also an emotional and spiritual conduit for her tribe. By even just conversing, sharing details with her, sharing emotions, connecting through touch and eye contact, Grace could relieve some of their anxiety, pain, grief, or worry. The best way that she could describe it was that she felt craved by the tribe. 

So she took her time moving from circle to circle, checking in, exchanging hugs and forehead touches, just being with the people who loved her. This also gave Grace immense relief and she felt so needed here that Emily’s suggestion of moving to the rez after graduation didn’t sound so crazy. Paul’s eyes followed her every now and then, keeping track of her in the crowd until she reached the outer edge where Ti’Hal was milling about with some children. 

Grace made her way to her and crouched next to her letting her know she was there by placing a hand on her arm and smiling warmly, not needing to communicate verbally. Ti’Hal returned the smile and then stood. She cupped her hands warmly on Grace’s face and said: 

“Little bird, you seem happy.” 

“I am,” Grace almost choked out. 

“That’s good dear.” Suddenly, Ti’Hal’s eyes were distracted over Grace’s shoulder toward the treeline. Grace turned to see Jake just standing off outside of trees. His eyes pulled at Grace and she felt that familiar tug in her middle that had been absent for awhile since she hadn’t seen him. She looked back to Ti’Hal wanting to stay with her and pretend like she hadn’t seen him. Not yet, not yet. The voice in Grace’s head begged. Ti’Hal gave her a knowing look and once again pulled her face down to hers, pressing their foreheads together. 

“You are both trying so hard to be different people. Why must you draw out fate like this?” 

“What?” Grace said incredulous. Two seconds ago Ti’Hal had acknowledged how happy she was and now she was trying to be someone different? 

“Little bird, youth carries you now, but don’t fight it for too long or you both will suffer.” Ti’Hal let go of her face seriously and moved back across the lawn toward the elders. Grace stood up straight, shocked. 

“What the hell-” 

“Can I talk to you?” Grace nearly shot out of her skin at the request behind her. She whipped around coming face to face with Jake, a pleading but strong look on his face. Her bubble had indeed, spectacularly burst. 

Grace looked around her immediate vicinity for any sign of Paul. She knew two things for sure: 1) If he saw her with Jake, he’d come immediately to her rescue and 2) if he found her with Jake there might be hell to pay. 

Not seeing Paul anywhere nearby and the throng of the tribe separating them from the immediate sight line of the bonfire, she nodded with a terse ‘fine’ and followed him as he led her to the forest. 

They went just inside the treeline, maybe 40 yards in, where they could still hear the bustle of the of bonfire and the see the light of the flames. Jake turned and Grace kept a good bit of distance between them so that nothing could be misconstrued if they were happened upon by a member of the pack. 

“Yes?” Grace said a little irritated. Jake shook his head and scowled at that. 

“Really?” He shot back. Okay, so this was going to be a fight. Grace thought to herself. 

“What, Jake? I haven’t heard from you or seen you in days, what could you possibly want?” Grace was mostly irritated because that tug that she had quieted was roaring back trying to pull them together like a magnet and she felt it’s discomfort by refusing it. 

“Oh please. So I’m gone a few days and you immediately shack up with Paul?” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth and tried quickly to back track when he saw the outraged, open mouthed look on Grace’s face, “I just mean...I just want to know: Are you guys officially dating or what?” 

“Jesus, Jake. This is what you wanted to ask me? Yes, Paul is my boyfriend. And you could have asked me that in front of him instead of playing this secret hideout game. This is crap, I’m going back,” Grace turned to leave but Jake took an immediate step forward and shouted after her. 

“That’s absolute shit, you know. If you listened to what Ti’Hal said-” 

“And what did Ti’Hal say to YOU, EXACTLY?” Grace interjected swinging around and letting anger color her voice clearly. He had no right. 

“Exactly what she told you. If you listened to yourself, you’d know that being with Paul is just going to end up a mess. Grace. At some point...he’s going to im-” 

“And who am I supposed to be with instead?” Grace said, taking quick steps forward and closing the gap between them. She couldn’t stifle her anger any longer. She wanted to kill him, wanted to hurt him, wanted him to feel bad for saying all of these things to her when she was happy. She came right up to him and shouted, “You?! I’m supposed to be with you?” 

Jacob didn’t move, didn’t wince, just stared down at Grace like he wanted to speak. 

“Because last I checked, you were still hung up on Bella. And I have a boyfriend.” Jacob grimaced at the mention of Bella and looked away for a second. Hurting him like this didn’t give Grace the satisfaction she was hoping for and she faltered some, anger dissolving into sadness. 

“I’m happy Jake. Let me be happy. Please, please, please. Please.” Tears stung at her eyes as she begged without looking at him. He reached for her now and whispered, “Grace.” before touching her arms and trying to pull her into a hug. Grace shoved away from him, not letting herself get caught in this again. 

“NO!” she bellowed putting more distance between them again. And it was just at this moment that she heard a booming voice come up behind her. 

“Grace!” the voice shouted. She couldn’t tell if it’s intonation was one of recognition, concern, or anger, but she was going to bet it was probably all three. Paul was in front of her in a second, pushing Jacob in the chest, “Back up!” 

“Screw you, Paul.” Jacob shot back, the anger returning. “We’re just talking.” 

“I’m going to tell you this once and only once: if you touch her again, you’re going to regret it.” Paul returned, seething anger building in his voice. Grace took a step forward to interject. 

“She’s not your property, Paul. She’s here for everyone.” 

“She’s MINE. She’s MY girlfriend. And the sooner you understand that the more likely you are to remain intact, alpha-reject.” Paul shot back. 

“Paul, that’s enough!” Grace said stepping forward and grabbing onto his arm. He yanked it free from her to her surprise and pushed Jake again, who pushed him back. Both of their bodies shook violently. 

Jared and Embry crashed into focus and pushed between them, separating them from one another. 

“Paul, get a grip,” Jared warned, pushing him back toward Grace. Embry was leaning into Jacob talking quietly to him and Jacob seemed to gain his composure. “Take Grace and get out of here.” Jared tried to command. Paul made eye contact with Jared for a second before shaking himself free and quickly turning to roughly grab Grace around the shoulders and steering her back toward the treeline muttering, “We’re leaving.” 

Once out past the treeline and in sight of the car, Grace shook Paul off of her and gave him a scathing look before treading quick ahead to swing around at him, “Paul what the fuck?!” 

“Get in the car.” he said solidly, not stopping. “I’m taking you home.” 

Grace turned to watch him climb into the car and waited for a half second, the look he gave her made her want to dissolve. “Grace!” he yelled impatiently. She gave in and walked to the car yanking the passenger door open and climbing inside, crossing her arms. 

When Paul pulled into his drive, Grace perked up and said half confused, “I thought you were taking me home?” 

Paul didn’t say anything and just got out of his car and walked into his house. Grace sat in the car for a moment, readying herself for a fight before taking a deep breath and pushing her door open. Paul had left the front door open and she walked through closing it behind her, trying to calm her nerves. Paul was at the sink drinking a glass of water. 

Grace waited for him to speak first. 

“Why is it that whenever I don’t know where you are, I find out that you’re somewhere alone with Jacob Black every time?” Paul said, his voice even but hurt and anger still clearly etched in his tone. Grace’s hands shook a little bit from the nerves. 

The ache in Grace was growing after seeing Jake and leaving him so quickly again. She hated this part, so she tried hard to quiet it again, but Paul wasn’t playing ball. 

“Paul, that’s not what that was and you know it. He was asking if we were together and I said yes we very much were and that he was an idiot and could have asked me that in front of you.” 

Paul watched her with a critical eye and dumped the rest of the water down the sink before coming into the living room and leaning against the wall. 

“Part of me laying claim was to assure everyone that you’re mine. But for whatever reason, Jake doesn’t seem to respect those boundaries so I need your help there.” Paul was calmer now but not coming near her. 

“I did tell him we were together.” 

“That’s not enough.” Paul said quickly. Grace closed her mouth quickly not sure what to say next. What else was she supposed to do? Her arms hung limply at their sides. As if on cue, Paul said: “You can’t be alone with him.” Pain shot through Grace on this request. 

“How am I supposed to-?” Grace started and Paul let out an annoyed hiss before turning down the hallway toward his bedroom, “Paul! I’m talking to you!” 

He swung around, the anger back, “I asked you something very simple. For us to work, I need you to make the boundary clear because CLEARLY the line gets blurred when you two are alone together. I’m not blaming you. I’m asking you to choose me. Like I chose you, Grace. Fuck!” he yelled turning back down the hallway. He disappeared into his bedroom and Grace heard the shower turn on. She put a hand to her head trying to hold back her tears. 

How was she supposed to stay away from Jake when everything in her pulled her toward him? But something Paul had said was right: the lines got blurred and that wasn’t fair to him. If she wanted this work, she had to do this. And she desperately wanted this to work. 

Grace tread softly down the hallway, removing her sweater and jeans as she went. She was completely naked by the time she reached his bathroom door and hesitated, her hand hovering over the door knob. She’d promise him, she told herself. 

She gently opened the door and climbed in the shower behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso, before saying: “Okay. I promise.” 

Paul turned around and cupped his hand under her chin so she’d make eye contact with him. 

“For real, Grace. I need a solid promise.”

“Paul. I promise. I won’t be alone with him ever.” she said clearly, water streaming in rivulets down her face. He nodded satisfied with her answer before leaning down to lock her in with a kiss. Their shower quickly devolved into Paul carefully carrying Grace to bed, both of them slick with warm water. 

He buried his head between her legs and worked in there, pulling gasps and moans from Grace as she held tightly at his short hair. As she pulsed toward climax, one face lingered behind her closed lids as she lost herself in pleasure: Jacob’s scowl, Jacob’s pleading face, Jacob’s hands reaching for her arms and leaving scorching heat just from a soft tentative touch. She shivered with release and then Paul was above her, moving into her and washing away the pictures from her head. She bit her lower lip and focused, guilt flooding her instantly. 

[emerald-amidst-gold]

18 19 20 27 28 from the protag questions <3

Ooooo! Lots of goodies! o3o You all spoil me~! X3

Thank you so much! Let's get into it! >:D

18. What is the biggest similarity between your protagonists?

Grey morality. PFFFFT!

I'm serious. I have a habit of creating characters that have questionable methods to situations, but yet can be empathized with or even sympathized with. Fane, Rylen, and Elise all do what they have to do, and it's up to the audience to formulate whether or not they agree or disagree with their personalities and actions.

I'll say this once because I've had people in the past kind of...bash me for it, but just because your character has a specific view does not necessarily mean you as the creator share that same view. That isn't me throwing swings out at self-inserts or characters that are reflections of their creators, this is just how I feel in response to my own characters. I try to disconnect from my characters because I want them to be their own. I build the foundation, give them a name, a history, or a family to influence them, but I don't steer their minds, their decisions. They flow the way they want to flow. Simple as that. Fane is the OC that is most reflective of me, but not with everything. He has his own methods, own reasons for thinking the way that he does and so do I.

I think it has a lot of my fixation on making characters teeter has to do with how I interact with the world in real life. I just...don't see black and white. I give everything the benefit of the doubt and I hold my ground concerning my views even if others might see them as 'wrong' or 'controversial'. I'm horribly analytical and I'm always like, 'But what if...'. That's just...me. XD

But yeah! Grey characters are my vice and I'm not sure if I'm doing it right most of the time, but I try! :3

19. What is the biggest difference between your protagonists?

Mainly how they approach situations and their feelings surrounding leadership.

Fane is rash, doesn't plan, doesn't think everything through before acting or he just outright chooses not to. He tends to make decisions on his own, but mainly only in battle. In more diplomatic settings, Fane is the master of deferral. XD He divvies out tasks that he feels aren't his area from either a lack of interest, a lack of confidence in himself, or just feeling that someone else would be the better option.

Rylen has his moments of brashness, but he's pretty subdued, go with the flow type of deal, but most who know him intimately know he's pretty high strung when it comes to matters where his voice has power. Man's a ball of stress and anxiety. PFFT!

Elise is the calmest out of the three. It was practically trained into her in the Circle. She's also just inherently docile, but after the Blight she does have moments of being feral and unhinged. That mostly happens if one of her companions are in danger or if her own life is threatened. She's not afraid to make her voice heard, either. Generally, Elise is soft spoken, but she will stand up for herself and other people, despite the grief it could cause her.

20. Who handles responsibility the best? And who handles it the worst?

If Fane puts his mind to it, he can handle responsibility pretty well. His want to involve himself deeply in matters doesn't happen until after Adamant and only gets stronger and stronger after Trespasser. Fane is a force when he wants to be and Solas tries to draw that out, to make him realize he can do whatever he puts his mind to. However, Elise would be the best in terms of responsibility. She had a lot in the Circle, even more during the Blight, and a substantial amount as Warden-Commander. Does she wish she could rest? Of course! But she doesn't complain because she knows she can make change. Rylen's okay with responsibility; he becomes Viscount after all. But, he is prone to slacking off at times, but really only after the Chantry explosion. The guy is TIRED. What can I say? XD

All in all, none of them bad at handling responsibility. They just have different ways that they go about it! :D

27. What would their fears on the graves in the fade during Here Lies The Abyss be?

Yes, yes, yes, YES! The question! The big question! The question that leads to Fane and Solas' first kiss! AHAHAHAH! >:D

Elise - Betrayal. This is more in terms of Elise towards herself and her own actions. She's afraid that everything she's ever done has been one great betrayal to everyone and everything she has ever cared about. She had no choice but to witness Jowan become Tranquil, Alistair, so hurt and angered by her decision at the Landsmeet, abandoned her to face the possibility of the death alone, her faith was sundered after the Broken Circle, making her fear her magic for the first time in her life and making her wonder when she would become the very monsters she had just finished killing. The list goes on. Elise made so many decisions in service to the world, but she silently wonders when it'll all come crashing down around her, when everyone will leave her because they'd been betrayed.

Rylen - Wasn't enough. Rylen wrestles constantly with the fact that he's never been strong enough. He wasn't strong enough for Carver; the ogre ripping him from their family and pounding into pulp. He wasn't strong enough for Bethany; unable to protect her from the templars, so he opted to take her to the Deep Roads, thinking it would be safer, but it wasn't. He wasn't strong enough for his mother; his eyes focused on the horizon rather than the ground that began it all.

And he hadn't been strong enough to end Corypheus for good. We all know what happened wasn't Hawke's fault, but Rylen the master of blaming himself for everything, so that's one event he dwells about every. day. every. night.

Last, but not least, FANE. *sounds the horns* You ready? You ready?! >:D

Fane - To be forgotten. That's right.

That's Fane's biggest, deepest fear; to be forgotten. I know there's only been a few chapters of my main fic that kind of reference this, but you know how Fane constantly says to himself, 'I wish I could be forgotten. It would be better if I would just disappear and be forgotten.'? Yeah, it's a front. He's trying to convince himself that that's what he wants, but in actuality, it's reversed. He's terrified, terrified of being forgotten by the world, by his sister, by the Inquisition...

...by Solas. That's the worst person who could forget Fane. And around the time of Adamant, Solas and Fane being the stubborn fools that they are, act as if they haven't known each other for fucking centuries even though the truth literally screamed at them after Haven. They were lost together in the mountains with that truth hanging between them, and still they ignored it because it hurt and they both felt they didn't deserve the hope that they could be together. Fane attempts to unearth some lost memories, some lingering feelings, but Solas wasn't ready and guided them away from that unopened bag, refusing to let Fane in on his agenda or allowing him to help in any way. It gets to a point where Fane starts to believe Solas doesn't actually recall their relationship, who he is and he spirals pretty bad in the Raw Fade when that tombstone is glaring at him.

When Solas sees it...he cracks. Quietly, in his mind, but he realizes how stupid he'd been, how stupid they had been. The truth was looking at him in two tones and he ignored it out of fear. It's what spurs Solas to take Fane into the Fade and show his dragon the place where he had endeavored to make sure the other would never be forgotten. Solas also makes it clear that he had never forgot Fane, ever.

"I could never forget you, my dragon. Your memory lingered within the halls of my mind even as I slumbered. I am but a fool, a fearful fool. I thought it kinder to let you live a new life, unburdened by my burdens. I do not wish for the past to repeat itself, to see two tones ebb away and breath leave your lungs once more.", Solas said, eyes downcast, pained grimace housing sorrow, grief, and despair in its curves. "...But, it is not kinder. It is more agonizing to try and forget than it is to remember. Though, I have never tried to erase you from my memory nor have I tried to abandon what I felt for you--what I feel for you.'

Fane frowned, tugging on the mage's forearms to bring him closer, urgently, but timidly; Solas didn't even protest, but his eyes remained downcast. "What do you feel, Solas?", he asked and received no answer. "What do you feel, Solas?! What can't you forget?!", he repeated, voice echoing off the halls of death and remembrance. He needed these words, he needed to know!

What did the sky feel?! What did it remember?! He just wanted one damned answer in this upside down world!

Solas' eyes shut slowly, chest rising with a deep inhale. "I..", he started, but paused again, face twitching with hesitance and reservation. "No, it's not--!"

Fane growled low. "Enough! If you won't tell me,", he barked, yanking Solas forward by his arms, barely registering the grunt of surprise that left his lips, and shot his hands up to hold a bewildered face. "...then show me!"

I tease~ >:3

-----

28. What is their favourite location within their own game and what would be their favourite in each others?

I answered this ooooonnnneee HERE! >:D (I would just copy and paste, but it LONG. ADHDKS)

And there we have it! Beautiful! Perfect! And FUN! X3

[fanaticit]

Nobody Heard Him

Preview: "But it was more than Loneliness, wasn't it, Martin? It was terror, too. Don't you remember how that terror felt? Feel it again. Feed on it."Or, Peter Lukas imposes the Lonely onto Martin.

Pairing: Implied Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood (Jonmartin)

Genre/themes: Hurt, angst, loneliness

CW's: Using power over somebody in a harmful way, being trapped in a bad situation, nobody can hear/see you, psychological and emotional abuse, manipulation, loneliness, etc. Be safe, please!

Word Count: 1627

Martin was drifting through the Archives with every care in the world resting on his sagged shoulders. He stepped on each marble tile, remembering that he didn't have to worry about stepping on the grouting between the tiles anymore. "Step on a crack, break your mother's back." He used to remember that every time he walked on pavement or tiles, but it didn't much matter anymore, did it?

He reached out a hand to open the door to his office. The knob had been black-painted metal, but years of use had made most of it metallic, reminding Martin of several statues he saw in Scottish streets a while back.

His pale hand passed through the doorknob.

It took him a moment. He tried again, and then again to open the door, to feel that cold smooth metal under his palm. Because clearly, that'd been his mind playing tricks on him. He hadn't slept well recently, or it was a trick of the light. When his hand went through the door, he screamed. Someone patted his shoulder.

"Ah, hello there Martin. Having a rough one, are you?" asked Peter with a genuine grin.

Martin shook his head in disbelief. "Peter, what just happened? My hand, it... it went through the door? But-- but you could touch me! You did, just now. What just happened?" he stammered, staring at his hand, which seemed to be growing less opaque to his eyes.

"Yes, that does happen eventually to most of us. Nothing to be alarmed about, I assure you." Peter assured triumphantly. "In fact, this is wonderful progress. How long has this been going on? I'm proud of you, Martin."

"I-- I can't open the door," Martin murmured to himself. "But I've seen you open doors. You walk around and pick things up, I've seen it. Peter, what's going on?"

Peter contemplated for a second. "I guess it's time for a discussion on the Lonely, Martin. Would you care to step inside?" He opened the door to Martin's office. Martin stepped inside, numb.

The Avatar of the Lonely looked at the wall while he spoke. "To truly harness the power of the Lonely, you must understand its power, its potential, its effect. Let me tell you some stories of people I knew of, Martin. There are so many factors in Loneliness. I can't list them to you, it's bigger than that. It's always too big to summarize, so I'll do some storytelling."

"A woman who worked up the courage to confess to someone she loved, only to be shut down and cast out like waste in front of a laughing crowd. How she cried in the bathroom, how she wanted to sink into the ground or disappear instead of being embarrassed in front of others. Humiliation and rejection are symptoms of the Lonely."

"There was a teen I knew of who associated with sad fools that glorified loneliness. They loved the pain inflicted on them, boasting about their latest tragedy until they couldn't separate grief from joy. They infused Loneliness into themselves eagerly, for the story they could tell later. The glorification of tragedy is Loneliness."

"Some old man who once had a name, but nobody remembered it anymore. Loneliness from age, from the grief of losing everyone close to yourself."

"Two siblings vying for a parents' affection, only for one to be left alone when the parent was forced to choose between the two. Being abandoned."

"A successful lawyer choosing to stay late at work again instead of seeing his family, falling asleep in his office instead of in his home. A priority that lets Loneliness win."

"Loneliness no matter how many people are close. Pushing them away, feeling like they don't care. Anxiety and depression, loneliness despite a crowd around you."

"Oh, there are so many shapes and sizes of Loneliness, Martin. The feeling of being Lonely is similar to the true understanding of it-- overwhelming in every way. It's incredible, isn't it? I can tell in your eyes-- you feel it. You felt the Loneliness of every poor soul I described. Isn't it liberating, Martin? Knowing that you understand the lock, but not the key? Understanding the underlying terror of everyone leaving you behind, understanding why they all assume nothing will improve."

"It's marvelous, don't you think, Martin?" announced Peter, feeling the emotion of his novice.

Martin's face shook. "It's... it's terrible. I hate it. I want no part in this, Peter. I can't do this. I can't feed on their grief. It's wrong!"

He stumbled out of his office, his face grey and hands shaking. Jon. He needed him, Jon would know what to do, how to help him out of this. Where was he?

There-- in his office, the door wide open and a tape recorder going. His head was rested on his arms, and he was silently staring at the spinning tape. There was something haunting about his expression. Martin sped into the room in a panic.

"Jon, oh thank god, I need your help. I did something really stupid, and Peter's chasing me, and I need your help. Please, I can explain it all later, but he's gonna be here any minute, Jon. I don't want to disappear. He wants me to feed on their pain, but I can't do it. I don't want others to be hurting. Come on, we've only got a moment. Why aren't you listening to me? Jon!" Martin ranted, only then looking up at noticing that Jon hadn't moved.

"Jon, listen to me. Please, why aren't you getting it? Peter's going to be here any second and--."

"I'm already here, Martin," Peter announced from behind him in the doorway. He sauntered in, taking a place by Martin's side, staring at the Archivist with no emotion. "He can't hear you, you know."

"Stop playing games, Peter. Not with Jon. You said you'd leave him out of it," Martin stammered, looking between the two others in the room with worry and terror.

"I'm not," Peter said, matter-of-factly. "It's all you, Martin. I'm proud, really. You're making incredible progress."

"Stop it! I don't want any part of it. You're the one doing this, aren't you? Just another one of your sick mind games!" yelled Martin, no longer worried about being overheard, because nobody could hear him.

"This was all you, Martin. I didn't have to do this for you, you figured it all out on your own. Of course, I chose well. You were the perfect candidate for the Lonely right from the beginning. I didn't even have to work it into you, it was already there."

"Shut up!"

"The employee surrounded by superior minds, the eternally jealous and awestruck novice. The friend-to-all with no friends at all. The one ruled by emotion over logic, trapped in a room alone with their terrors locking on the door."

"Stop talking, Peter."

"Were you Lonely when you were trapped in your apartment while the worms tried their hardest to enter and dissect you? Were you Lonely when you faked your way into your job? Were you Lonely when you lost your companions in the tunnels and wandered about on your own until you stumbled upon a corpse?"

"I said shut up!"

"But it was more than Loneliness, wasn't it, Martin? It was terror, too. Don't you remember how that terror felt? Feel it again. Feed on it."

Martin had stopped talking. He went rigid and curled up into a ball instead, sinking to the floor and cradling his knees.

"You're the outcast, Martin. Why else would their only use for you be to bring tea? And they didn't even ask for that, either. Maybe they just didn't want you around at all. Is that why you faced Elias's terror all alone? And then so many of them died because you were too useless, too cowardly, too foolish to act. You're fixated on the one you love, but your death would be inconsequential to him. Everybody you've burdened with your problems was exasperated, so why do you even bother?"

The ringing in Martin's ears was intense, but Peter's words were more so. He stared at Jon, who hadn't moved. He was staring at the tape, oblivious to the scene in front of him.

"They all assume you're nothing, and you'll never have the strength or the resolve to even try to prove them wrong. You felt the Lonely when you lost your mother, too, but you felt it even more when she was here. Do you remember what her last words to you were? Grief seems like second nature to you now, but it never gets better, does it? All the little things you keep seeing. The little reminders."

"Just leave-- me-- ALONE!" screamed Martin out of the blue. He made eye contact, forcing Peter to look away.

"I really am proud of you. If being Lonely is what you wish, then I've succeeded already, haven't I?" Peter murmured. "You'll be able to become visible over time, though it will take effort. Although who's to say that you're really not visible?"

"...Maybe they all don't see you because they don't want to. Just something to think about. I'll see you tomorrow, Martin." Peter let out a sigh, then walked out of the door and vanished from sight.

Martin collapsed against the wall, suddenly exhausted. He stared at Jon, who was still staring at that tape recorder. The Archivist paused, then looked at the door. "Martin... where are you?" he whispered to himself, then rubbed his eyes and stared at the tea he'd made himself. "I miss you."

"I wish I could explain, Jon" mumbled Martin. "I miss you." He muttered it to himself under his breath, Loneliness taking him under again.

Nobody heard him.

--

AN: Stay safe, it's a crazy world out there. Have a good night. --fanaticit

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Smut Recs: Polyjuice Sex or Anonymous Sex

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here. Players could opt in to an additional suit of 13 cards, all themed around various popular smut tropes.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Closure is a state of mind by Quicksilvermaid Rated:  Explicit Words:  12229 Tags: Morally Grey Draco Malfoy, Inappropriate medical/therapist relationships, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Lies, Self-Esteem Issues, low key stalking behaviour, Loneliness, Guilt, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, taking advantage of a grieving person, Death of a Spouse, Character Death, (not Drarry), Disfigurement, Scars, Brief Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Drinking, First Time, Polyjuice Potion, Sex While Using Polyjuice Potion, pensieve sex, Voyeurism, wanking, Concealed Identity, Bittersweet Ending, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary:  After Harry's husband Charlie is killed, his Mind Healer recommends a Polyjuice therapy company, so Harry can see 'Charlie' again and find closure over his death. Draco, whose life over the last ten years has gone from bad to worse, gets assigned Potter's case. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Aletheia by lazywonderland Rated:  Explicit Words:  8340 Tags: Confident Harry, Sex While Using Polyjuice Potion, POV Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Pseudo Het, Pseudo Female Draco, Bisexual Harry, Enamored Draco, Hung Harry Potter, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Smut, Het, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Slash, Top Harry, Bottom Draco, Submissive Draco, Angst, the teeniest amount.....i can't write anything without angst idk how, there's very little plot here but i still managed, Choking Summary:  Draco finds out Daphne's been shagging Potter and it turns out it's really not that difficult to get a piece of her hair. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Exposure by GallaPlacidia Rated:  Mature Words:  26993 Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sex Work, Sex Worker Draco Malfoy, Camboy Draco Malfoy, it's all pretty sex positive tbh, less sex than you would think there would be, Betrayal, Secret Identities, Draco in the Muggle World, it's p lighthearted really, falling in love through online geography quizzes, (partly) textfic, Oneshot, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Loneliness, Self-Loathing, Threats of Violence, Age Difference, Public Sex, Guilt, Hate Crimes, grey area infidelity (not between Draco and Harry), Mention of Minor Character Suicide Summary:  When Seamus uncovers Draco Malfoy's camboy profile, he, Harry and Ron decide to anonymously book a private show so as to humiliate him later. Fascinated by Draco's confidence, Harry keeps booking private shows under the disguise... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 I'll Only Hurt You If You Let Me by Penryn3 Rated:  Explicit Words:  6862 Tags: Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Polyjuice Potion, Mistaken Identity, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Love Bites, Biting, Enemies to Lovers, Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Non-Consensual Touching, Face-Fucking, Invisibility Cloak (Harry Potter), Wizarding Court Trials, Angry Kissing, Frotting, Wandless Magic, The Marauder's Map, Powerful Harry, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Self-Discovery, Sex Whilst Polyjuiced, Explicit Language, Hand Jobs, Male Slash, POV Draco Malfoy, Mildly Dubious Consent, Complete Summary:  Draco stared intently at the long strand of fiery red hair between his pinched fingertips and let out a shuddering breath. He could do this. He could. He had to find out what was going to happen to his parents, and if anyone was privy to that kind of private information - it was Potter. Draco took a breath, steeling himself. Raising the bubbling glass to his lips, he closed his eyes and swallowed. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 How to Court your Husband by magpie_fngrl Rated:  Explicit Words:  5520 Tags: Alternate Universe, Identity Porn, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Humor, Explicit Sexual Content, Hieros Gamos Summary:  Prince Harry must marry Prince Draco, a man he's never even seen before, for the sake of the alliance between their two kingdoms. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Welcome to the Broom Closet by incapricious Rated:  Explicit Words:  23143 Summary:  Harry thinks he knows how his life will go: Become an Auror. Marry Ginny. Have a family. But then he sees an advertisement in the paper that no one else can see, and his life is turned upside-down. The Broom Closet: you can be anyone you want while you're there, but you won't remember it in the morning. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Mistaken Identities by MalenkayaCherepakha Rated:  Explicit Words:  1831 Tags: Public Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Polyjuice Potion, Polyjuice sex, Hermione is confused Summary:  In which Harry finishes a mission early, Polyjuice takes a while to wear off, and Hermione is very confused. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Journal  by LakeWitch Rated:  Explicit Words:  59439 Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Mental Health Issues, Therapy, Hufflepuff & Slytherin Inter-House Friendships, Hufflepuff Common RoomD, iary/Journal, Magical Diary - Freeform, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Slytherin Abuse, For a bit anyway, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, With emphasis on the friends part, Slow Burn, Sexual Fantasy, Sexting, Except it's in a magical journal and not a phone, Masturbation, Anonymity, Alcohol, Party Games, Spin the Bottle, Angst, I made myself cry at a certain part, Eventual Fluff, Smut, Epistolaryat parts, Fighting in the halls, Background Relationships, Teaself-care, Knitting, Television Watching, Mind Healers (Harry Potter), Magical Tattoos, Cooking, Desi Harry Potter, Indian food, flower shop, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, Showers, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, POV Harry Potter, the html in here is a b, Coming Out, Anal Sex, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, if that matters, they switch but I don't show it Summary:  After Voldemort's death, everything was supposed to get better, supposed to be better. Harry was meant to live a normal life. However, he very-unfairly found himself with crippling depression and an anxiety problem—his Mind Healer says he has PTSD. Hence (when he could get out of bed), Harry's summer after the war was filled with intense therapy sessions, renovating Grimmauld Place, and teaching himself how to cook Indian food. Now Harry thinks he's ready to return to Hogwarts for an Eighth Year. But before he does, Harry picks up a journal from Flourish and Blotts on his Mind Healer's urging. He's meant to write down his thoughts and feelings, no matter how seemingly trivial. There was nothing, no pamphlet, to indicate the journal he bought was magically-linked with someone else's. But, when he finally opens it up, someone's already written inside. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Start the Chase by FleetofShippyShips Rated:  Explicit Words:  4015 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Masks, Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Identity Reveal, Don't copy to another site Summary:  Harry liked to tell himself he didn’t do things like this often. He liked to pretend he wasn’t a rotten liar too. But the fact of the matter was, charity balls were incredibly dull and they made him incredibly uncomfortable, but not going was even worse. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone off and done something he shouldn’t have. Done someone he shouldn’t have. And really, having it splashed all over the papers should have stopped him by now. But this time, this time he was wearing a mask. And so was the other man. ❤️ Read on AO3

[jeongyunhoed]

As seen on my FF.net

Following the events of fifth year, a new adventure awaits for Norah Lee. Boys, exams, school events, common room parties, and old foes outside of Hogwarts. Even battling pensieve guardians was easier than this.

Main Pair: OC/? Genre: Adventure/Angst/Fluff (it's a little of everything, tbh)

KEEP IN MIND: Characters are aged up (even if the story's got them in sixth year) to make it more appropriate. Time period is leaning towards the modern day so in case you might find anachronisms in the dialogue or references, this is why. This may also be quite a lengthy fic too.

BE WARNED: Social anxiety, mentions of blood and injury, grief, drinking, kissing but nothing more than that, death (this is Hogwarts Legacy, after all)

P.P.S: Terrible attempt at poetry ahead. Leave your guesses as to who may "Nick" be. HEHEHE

Masterlist

Chapter 6

A large enchanted board appeared at the grounds. Professor Ronen was grinning proudly as crowds of sixth-years were gathering around. The board had each of the names of the sixth years of every house. "For the next assignment, sixth years, all of you are supposed to learn how to cast non-verbal spells this year," He declared. "Which brings us to this little game."

"Are we supposed to summon our names from these boards?" Charlotte asked.

"Not quite," The grin on his face grew wider. "Now, I am aware that this year is when we are having the Yule Ball. Fortunately, we've got an even number of boys and girls. With that in mind, I want you to summon, non-verbally, your name and the name of the person you would like to get to know better. Asking them to the ball isn't necessary, but at least you will make a new friend!"

Norah felt a strong pang of anxiety as everyone started whispering to themselves. Some of them were even giggling, in the hopes of being able to summon the name of the person they wanted.

"I don't know how to feel about that," Natty looked just as anxious.

Poppy, however, looked a little more confident. "I wonder who's going to summon mine. I already know who I'm going to call," She said, a shy smile playing across her features at the thought. "Don't you have anyone in mind, you're the best in Charms, Natty."

"But to practically walk up to summon the name of the person you might like, people will know," Natty said.

"That's part of the fun, isn't it?" Poppy smiled, looking back at the board. "It's going to be fun!"

Amit looked amazed. "I never took Poppy Sweeting to be such a romantic."

"You just have to get to know me better, Amit," The Hufflepuff pointed out.

"This is a side of Poppy Sweeting that we rarely get to see," Natty teased. "If she's not hanging about the beasts in the pens, she's probably going to be summoning a name soon."

"What happens if your name has already been summoned?" one Ravenclaw raised their hand.

"Good question," Professor Ronen had a skip in his step as he waved his wand over the board. "If your name was summoned before you had a chance to do so, then you will have another assignment. You will non-verbally summon the note behind your names on the other side of this board, which will give you a clue as to who your summoner may be. You will have until the end of the week to do so. And by the end of the week, you can finally meet them."

Just in time for the Gryffindor house party, they all thought. Norah sighed, looking up at the green board with her name written in silver. She wondered who might be the one who could summon her name, and maybe it would be who she was hoping for.

Once Professor Ronen stood aside, the crowd of Gryffindors stepped forward to try their hand in summoning the names. "Remember! Concentration is key!" He said, observing them.

"Thought of summoning Weasley's name yet?" Sebastian teased. He hadn't let Norah's Hogsmeade run-in with Garreth go, something she was beginning to suspect was out of jealousy. He hoped that she wouldn't but he knew his way of convincing her out of it wasn't working. There wasn't any other way he knew how to say it, without him fully confessing his feelings for her.

Norah rolled her eyes. "Have you?" She teased back, making Ominis laugh. "If you've been wondering so much, maybe you should probably summon his name."

Sebastian frowned, which Ominis sensed, making him laugh harder. "I believe Norah has a point," He said, wiping the tears from his eyes as they started to make their way back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower. "But I think our little skirmish with the ashwinders in Keenbridge seems to have tested us with non-verbal casting. I think we'd pass Ronen's homework."

"That's...oddly optimistic," Norah pointed out while they climbed up the stairs. "I'm still quite rusty with certain spells...That's strange, isn't it?"

"It is, but you're getting there, it seems," Sebastian assured her. "I'll probably have a go at that board tonight."

"Good luck," She said.

She parted with them at the staircase, moving ahead to the floor of the tower with a familiar, or rather, unfamiliar classroom. Unfamiliar in a sense that she hadn't personally taken these classes on magical theory, but familiar in that she knew who taught them. It was an empty classroom at this time and understandably so. Professor Black hadn't looked for a replacement for Professor Fig yet.

Norah climbed up the little staircase that led to his office, seeing his things still intact, as if he was just away. She immediately spotted the magical book she acquired from the restricted section, with the missing pages she retrieved from Richard Jackdaw's tomb. Fig kept the book even after their introductions were made with the four keepers to further study it.

Perhaps she could take it upon herself to learn more about the work that was done to get to this point, for her to have all the magic Isidora Morganach took disguised as pain that eventually turned into power. She took out her wand, staring at the book on the shelf next to where a demiguise statue was previously planted. Accio book, she thought, mentally repeating the spell to summon it.

To her surprise, the book flew out from the shelf and into her free hand. Ominis and Sebastian were right, she thought. She had gotten better at non-verbal casting.

Her thoughts went back to the board Professor Ronen had arranged as homework and a lesson. It was better than Summoner's Court in a way, but it was still just as embarrassing, especially for those who wouldn't want their affections for certain people known just yet. Norah left the office and the classroom, wanting to get a headstart on reading the book along with her notes on NEWT-level Defense Against the Dark Arts.

It was already making her think. If someone summoned her name from that board, would they think of asking her to the Yule Ball? Perhaps.

Norah soon snapped out of her thoughts when she felt a hand on her forehead and her shoes hitting what she realized was the wooden pillar. She was about to walk into the pillar. Norah looked over to see who kept her from bumping her head. It was Leander.

"Careful now. We wouldn't want the reigning champion of Summoner's Court and Crossed Wands to get hurt, wouldn't we?" He said, his hand returning to his side. "...Were you coming from Fig's office?"

"Thanks, I got distracted that I nearly walked into this," Norah chuckled. "Uh, yeah. Just got a book I needed for this Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. Have you tried summoning a name from the board yet?" She grinned.

The question seemed to make the redheaded male blush. "I actually haven't. H-have you had a go?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. I probably will later."

"Are you coming to the party this weekend?" He asked. "It's going to be fun. I always like to say you haven't had fun until you come to a Gryffindor house party."

Norah chuckled. "You don't need to convince me. I was already under the impression that Gryffindors are always up for some fun."

A small smile formed on his lips. "Right, we are always up for some fun."

"So, where were you going?" She was curious.

"Oh, uh, I was actually going to go to the bathroom. I've been doing my Potions essay near the Charms classroom," He gestured to the ceiling.

Norah sighed. "Merlin, I almost forgot about that essay. With everything Garlick and Hecat are giving us. It's going to take some felix felicis to get good marks. Or a memory potion at least."

"You and me both," Leander agreed. "Well," He cleared his throat. "If-if you want you, we can do our essays together. I'll just go in the bathroom first."

Did she want to be alone at this time? She knew Sebastian and Ominis were likely in the library with their own essays to do. Natty had other classes to attend, as did Poppy and Amit. She remembered what Natty told her about Leander, still convinced that they were probably just arguing as they usually would. "I guess that would be nice. I've got my potions book with me, we can work on that together."

"Brilliant. I'll be back," Leander tried to stifle his surprise, as if he was expecting that she would be busy. He shuffled towards the boys bathroom as Norah stood near the pillar to wait.

She opened her bag, looking inside and at the book. It had everything else she needed to know about what they discovered in fifth year. Including the ancient magic and what it took to build that repository she was still set on rebuilding. Leander soon returned, and they walked together to the study area near the Charms classroom.

"My second-favorite hero! Norah Lee," Sophronia Franklin, the fourth-year Ravenclaw waved at her as she sat down on the table across from Leander. "Herodiana Byrne has more depulso rooms, have you tried those out?" She asked, approaching them.

"Depulso rooms?" Leander was confused. "What are those?"

"Herodiana Byrne, the greatest depulso master, built a few rooms where she practiced the spell through puzzles. She's also hidden pieces of her wardrobe which Norah found in the room at the base of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower," Sophronia said proudly. "There are two more, one near Professor Binns' classroom and one in a hall close to the long gallery leading up to the bell tower."

Norah hummed as she set down her rolls of parchment, her quill, and ink bottle. "I haven't gotten around to trying those out. I imagine those would be more difficult than the one I went to."

"Does she have more pieces of her outfit in those rooms?" Leander was still confused. "She must have a lot more to that outfit then."

"Give it a go, if you can," Sophronia grinned. "I'd love to see what else she left behind!"

As she walked off, Norah and Leander exchanged looks, chuckles escaping their lips as they began their study session. As the two of them have found, explaining certain kinds of elixirs and antidotes to certain poisons were incredibly tedious. Having to explain the fundamentals of Golpalott's Third Law seemed to be the only thing they found easy to write in their essays.

Norah had nearly finished her third roll of parchment and Leander was nearly done with a fourth roll of parchment when they realized how long they had been studying. "Godric's balls, have we been here so long?" She laughed, her fingers a little dirtied with ink, glancing over at the redhead.

"Merlin, we've been here the whole day, they've started dinner by now," Leander looked around to find out the time. "Sharp wasn't kidding when he said this assignment was going to take a lot of time, Merlin's beard."

Norah chuckled. "But on the bright side, we're on our way to finishing this very long essay. It was nice having to study without getting distracted or sidetracked."

"Distracted? I'm not surprised. You're friends with Sallow, it's surprising he's tried to stay out of detention as much as possible these days," Leander teased.

"Yeah, and Ominis is often studying in the dormitory if he's not trying to keep Sebastian from getting into trouble. And, you can imagine the rest of them," Norah started to clear out her things and he did the same. "

The redhead couldn't help but chuckle. "And then I almost thought you were going to say something like you helping out someone from some hamlet."

"Not this time. I think I'd get in detention often if I tried to do what I did in fifth year," Norah laughed as they stood up. "Well, shall we go to the Great Hall for dinner?"

"I-I was going to ask you the same thing," Leander sputtered, a little flustered with the question, or rather the situation he was in. "It-it was nice studying with you."

"You too."

-

Norah and Leander arrived in the Great Hall, already seeing some already succeeding in summoning the names of who they wanted. It made her wonder if the others had already tried out summoning their names on the boards. She mentally prepared herself for the possibility of not being chosen before she had a go. She remembered having to do something similar to this in the muggle school she attended before she received her Hogwarts letter. It was often done during Valentines' Day, and on March 14, which muggles called White Day.

The two of them walked off to their respective house tables. Norah immediately spotting Ominis and Sebastian, the latter already devouring his plate of food. "Norah," Ominis called as she sat down across from them.

"Where have you been?" Sebastian mumbled, taking a long drink of pumpkin juice as he watched her pile some food on a plate.

"I was finishing my Potions essay with Leander at the Astronomy wing. Did you have any luck with the board?" She replied.

"Merlin, I couldn't get my name to move even if I tried," Sebastian scoffed. "But Poppy and Natty had their names summoned already. Amit just found out his name was already taken too."

"What about you, Ominis?" Norah glanced at him in between bites of bread.

"I'm having just as much trouble too," The blonde replied with a frown. "I know Ronen's using this to test us on casting non-verbally, but couldn't there have been something else other than that?"

She understood what they meant. "If it makes the two of you feel better, I haven't had a go at the board yet," She said.

Sebastian and Ominis exchanged looks of confusion. "You haven't?" Sebastian raised a brow. Norah shook her head. "Then it seems someone has summoned the hero of Hogwarts already. When I went to the board, your name was already taken down."

Norah stared at them. It was mostly the reason why the two boys admitted to having had no luck at the board. Not that they knew what their personal reasons were. "This had better not be a prank, both of you," She warned, her heart already pounding in anticipation.

"Merlin's beard, it's what many people have been talking about. Someone was able to summon your name from the board," The freckly brunette put his knife and fork down. "I'm guessing no one else saw who did it, only that your name wasn't on the board anymore."

"I reckon they must be taking bets as to who summoned you by now," Ominis added.

"In that case, it's time for me to solve a puzzle," Norah seemed convinced at Sebastian's explanation. "Non-verbally, that is."

She could only hope they were nice or weren't looking for trouble or anything. If her name had been taken down, she hoped it was done by the very person she was beginning to have feelings for. Norah was about to tuck into a strawberry tart when her owl suddenly flew in and dropped a letter in front of her.

Norah took the envelope, carefully opening the flap and to her surprise, tiny pink confetti hearts scattered, some of which were going onto her plate. She stared at the mess in front of her, with Sebastian trying his hardest not to laugh. Ominis didn't look as amused, sweeping away any that went on his plate. This had better be part of Ronen's lesson, she thought, as she opened the card, seeing the words written in very fancy cursive.

Nothing would thrill me more Than to have a meal with you In the Forbidden Forest under the moonlight. But the Yule Ball will do for now.

She looked up at Sebastian and Ominis, who were wondering what was in the card. "So? What was that?" The freckled boy questioned.

Norah put the letter away, tucking it into her bag. "I'm guessing it was from the person who summoned my name on the board," She said. "They're very poetic. And coincidentally, I know what place they're talking about."

"Do tell," Ominis suddenly said. "Are you going to meet them there?"

She hummed, finishing her goblet of pumpkin juice. "Tonight? Before curfew. I'll time it when a house team's busy practicing at the pitch. I'll know to go back when they go back."

"Good luck," Sebastian frowned.

-

Norah approached the board of names that night, surprised that most of the names were already taken down. Even Sebastian's and Ominis' names were down, leaving a few others left. They were probably summoned while they were having dinner, she thought, already noticing the blank spaces where Poppy's, Natty's, and Amit's names were.

She sighed and went to the back of the board, seeing the note of green and silver that had her name written on it rather hastily. It could've been anyone at this point, and she chose to let herself remain wondering who could've asked for her.

Taking a few steps back, she pointed her wand at the note and non-verbally summoned it. To her surprise, the spot that had her name on it changed to a number 10, which she figured meant house points. Norah pocketed the note, wanting to read it when she walked down the path out of the grounds and on the way to the forest.

Ironically, it was none other than the Slytherin house team practicing, and Norah could hear Imelda shouting commands at each of her teammates. "Sharp turns! Sharp turns! Focus!" She yelled, her voice echoing.

Norah picked up her steps, walking a little faster toward the familiar pillars and then to the bridge. Immediately casting the charm, she saw the floating candles once again. Whoever sent her the note was likely very familiar with this little trick, she thought. Norah followed the candles into the forest, walking past the ominous spots where she knew dugbogs and spiders used to inhabit.

As she finally reached the spot where the floating candles seemed to multiply, revealing the small table and chairs that were perfect for a date, she looked around before opening the note.

To Norah Lee,

What has one eye but cannot see? Solve this riddle to find me, Your name reminds me of a woman I knew, The wife of a famous sleuth. If you should ever know the answer, Whisper it into a close friend's ear, You will know if you are right, Wait for my note tomorrow night.

Your Nick

"Again, very poetic," Norah said, smiling to herself as she read the note one more time. "He's not giving me much time to figure it out too."

"Norah? Is that you?" Ominis suddenly appeared, his wand almost pointing at her.

Norah immediately got up, her heart pounding from surprise. "Merlin's bollocks, you scared me," She laughed. "What brings you here?"

"I was collecting lacewing flies nearby when I heard your footsteps, your voice," He replied. "What are you doing in the forbidden forest alone?"

Norah was quick to give him an assuring pat. "I was following the note I received earlier. I took the note from the board too, and I read it here."

Ominis stepped forward, sensing the environment through his wand. "Awfully romantic, isn't it? He certainly plans to ask you to the ball," He said. "I reckon any beasts lurking in this forest would be terrified of you than you are of them."

Norah nodded, realizing that there was also a note left on the table that had her name on it. She took it and pocketed the letter, figuring that it might be best for her to read it back in the dormitory. "We should probably head back before any of the prefects catch us, shouldn't we?" She suggested. "Ah! But first, do you want to hear something fun?"

Ominis sensed that she was grinning. "We're not heading into that Richard Jackdaw's tomb you told me about, are we?" Concern evident in his tone.

Norah chuckled, taking his free wrist to lead him toward the rocks nearby that was overlooking the nearest spider lair. "Let's just say, we're doing what the muggles call, pest control," She said, opening her bag and slipping on some dragonhide gloves. Norah reached inside, and took out a venomous tentacula, throwing it into the very middle of the lair, where it sprung up and grew.

The plant caught one particularly large spider off-guard, shooting its venom toward the arachnids from every direction. Norah threw a few of the chomping cabbages down to get the spider eggs that were poised to hatch. Ominis wasn't sure whether he liked the sounds of dying spiders or not. But hearing the little laughs coming from Norah seemed to take his mind off of what they were doing. "A needle," She suddenly said.

"What?"

"A needle. The answer to the riddle someone named Nick left for me," She said.

"Nick?" Ominis raised a brow.

"Yeah, but I do wonder how Nick knew about that. It's the work of an American muggle author, about a detective named Nick Charles, and his wife was named Norah," She replied.

"He must have tried to find out what you like quite extensively," The blonde deduced. "...Do you like that author's work?"

Norah smiled, leading him back down from the rocks and back to the entrance. "I do. There weren't many stories of them, but I do loved the mystery solving."

The two of them made their way back to the road leading back to the grounds of Hogwarts. Imelda was still shouting orders at her teammates, while she zigzagged the spires of the pitch. The silence between them as they walked was a comfortable one, something both of them appreciated and marked how good their friendship was.

"You know, you still need to tell me about why you've been unlike yourself before we went to Keenbridge," Ominis tilted his head toward her as they walked past the board and back into the bell tower.

"Oh, right," Norah knew what he meant. "I guess I should tell you that in the Undercroft, then. It's a good thing we're both Slytherins because one of us is going to have to do quite a bit of running back if we weren't."

Ominis shook his head. "You don't have to tell me right now, but I thought you ought to know that it's always a suggestion," He said, his voice calm.

Norah observed his expression, then nodded. "I probably should if it helps me be a better friend," She suddenly remembered what Professor Weasley told her before she left her office.

"How dramatic," Ominis teased, making her nudge him. "But you are already a good friend. I won't push you if you're not comfortable with it, I assure you. If you're ever ready, just know I'm here to listen."

"Thank you, Ominis," She said. "One day, I'll tell you, and Sebastian, and Natty, and Poppy, and Amit," She laughed as they arrived at the path to the Slytherin dungeons.

"And then I thought I was special," Ominis feigned disappointment, chuckling as they entered the common room.

[pan0ramy]

re8 thought dump because YE

i feel like this was almost inevitable but idk where else to talk about resident evil village so i’m just going to rant about it here!!! i have,,,, a lot of thoughts on this game after being so excited for it for so long

obviously, massive spoilers if you haven’t finished the game. i feel like i have thoughts on pretty much everything so please please please stay clear of this post if you’re trying to stay blind

otherwise, let me just rant about this game for a bit - mainly the story and characters - because i have Thoughts™

(also i feel like it goes without saying but this will be probably be quite long, so. strap in, ig)

okay SO. the whole intro was pretty interesting - even though we’d seen bits of it in trailers, it was still pretty unnerving and felt like it came out of nowhere. but the first thing that really stood out was the first village section with the hordes of lycans; i didn’t expect this game to start freaking me out so quickly but JESUS my blood pressure went up fast. 

there’s so many of them coming at you at once, and not only have you just lost half your damn hand, you’re not really used to the gunplay at that point AND you don’t have that many weapons at your disposal. so it’s basically just “hey we’re throwing you into this ring of death, good luck surviving!” which... now that i think about it, that really sums up the whole game lol

but for the most part, the early parts of the game are what we saw in the demos, so there’s nothing too new - it was nice getting to see the scene with all four lords and mother miranda, though. i wasn’t sure how the whole chase scene with the lycans would work - i thought heisenberg’s area was going to be some sort of mine, and that the chase would take place there - but it didn’t, and it was interesting regardless of it being so short. 

but the castle. THE CASTLE. 

i would be lying through my teeth if i said i wasn’t excited for dimitrescu like everybody else; i’m firmly in the camp of people who both meme about how attractive she is, and then also the people who legitimately find her attractive, soooo i kinda had high expectations going in? 

and sure, the castle section is only part of the game, but if there’s anything that makes me nervous most, it’s stalker enemies. resi 2 remake was actually pretty tough for me to get through because of how anxiety-inducing mr x was, and even though i don’t feel like she was as present as mr x was, lady d was still great! there were a good few times where you could hear her walking around and you just knew she was searching for you, which was really damn cool.

also, i know capcom had a lot of hype to live up to with lady dimitrescu, but goddamn they did such a great job with her. she’s so imposing but badass and just... really damn cool? like i honestly found myself being excited for her to show up rather than being scared. i just think she’s neat! I MEAN LOOK AT HER.

(also yes i know the whole internet has talked about how attractive she is, but can we just. appreciate that for a second???? she’s gorgeous and yall can’t tell me otherwise. like. bro ik the pronunciation is wrong but the way she says dimitrescu made me GASP i love this powerful vampire woman)

if anything, though, i... actually felt really bad that her story ended up the way it did. i mean, think about it: you break into her house, kill the three people she’s grown to consider her daughters, rob her shit, and then kill her? she technically goes through the same kind of parental grief that ethan does, in a way, which is a really interesting parallel. grief seems to be a theme that capcom really pushed for this game, and it works. 

also, her boss fight design is badass. she’s literally a dragon, how is that not incredible

so the castle was great, where could the game go from here? oh, i don’t know, how about gOOD OLD FASIONED FUCKING TRAUMA.

jesus christ the dollhouse GOT TO ME.

i’m pretty used to horror in general; i love horror games, movies, books, you name it. i’ve gone to horror movies where people have ran out because of fear all while i’ve sat there giggling the whole time. but the dollhouse? that dollhouse is FUCKED. i can’t remember the last time i watched someone play through a horror game and was so... on edge the whole time. the fact that they keep you waiting for so long with nothing happening just... makes the atmosphere incredibly uncomfortable, and then when shit does start going down, it goes down fast. in other words, jesus fucking christ that baby will haunt my nightmares until the end of time

basically capcom managed to make the n*zi baby joke from south park: the stick of truth legitimately terrifying, and i was glad to see donna die. moving on.

moreau’s section is the one i... actually don’t have as many thoughts on. it’s cool, sure, and the whole idea of him turning into a fish when he hits water is neat - it’s definitely a good callback to re4 - but idk, it didn’t really scare me that much. i can see it scaring those with a fear of water or the ocean, for sure, but eh. i thought the designs were cool, but i kinda tuned out a little here.

heisenberg, though, was anything but. the entire time leading up to village’s release, this guy has fascinated me for some reason. i don’t know if it’s because he’s the most normal-looking of the four lords, or the fact that he has telekinesis, or his amazing voice acting (seriously i know some people have shit on his VA but oh my god i adore it) or what, but this guy stood out to me from day one. i even went into the game expecting him not to die tbh. but no, he does, and his fight is pretty damn cool all things considered. only in a resident evil game could you have a mech fight and have it not feel out of place lol

also this line ^^^ legitimately made me laugh so hard i almost choked on my water. THE FACT HE TURNS AROUND AND APOLOGISES SO MEEKLY its fucking hilarious to me

but anyway.

similar to alcina, though, i was left with one big question about heisenberg - what did mother miranda do to him to get him to join her impromptu familly? he said himself to ethan that he didn’t want to join, so what did miranda do that didn’t give him a choice? did he have a family at some point? is he grieving too? what did miranda take from him? i can only hope this gets answered in the dlc, because it’s by far one of my biggest questions surrounding all of this. i may very well have missed it somewhere, and at least we know he has his telekinesis abilities thanks to miranda, but it’s a question that’ll definitely be on my mind going forward.

at this point, though, the story REALLY gets insane. it’s really nice how village decided to just continue on straight from what 7 did, and i’m very glad that everyone’s theories about chris being a werewolf were wrong - it’s a really nice spanner to throw in the works. if anything, the whole revelation of mother miranda disguising herself as mia the whole time since rose’s birth was really cool, and ethan being Mold™ the entire time was pretty neat too - it made a lot of things both in 7 and village make more sense.

what i’m still digesting, though, is the ending.

...man, capcom, you put poor ethan through all of that and then you have the balls to actually kill him? i mean shit, you made us think he was dead for a whole 20 minutes but then nope! he’s alive! but then nope! he’s dead again! i did see someone point out that at least ethan got to go out on his own terms, but dammit i would’ve at least liked for him to get to see mia one last time. i think it would’ve softened the blow a little more. but i guess that ties into the whole grief theming this game has going for it, and like i said, i probably just need some more time to digest it. 

i don’t dislike the ending, it’s just a very big culture shock - it’s definitely a ballsy move, and i really respect capcom for going all out the way they did. they really held back on nothing in terms of this game’s story and i absolutely love it. it was so, so worth the wait in that regard. 

and tbh that’s kinda how i feel about the whole game in general; it was super super good, very much worth the wait, and i absolutely cannot wait to see where resident evil goes from here. i have a gut feeling this’ll end up being one of my absolute favourites in the series, which i know is very high praise, but i really do love it that much. i wasn’t disappointed with much in this game, if anything at all. it’s just a super fucking good video game man idk what else to say at this point

[98prilla]

Hidden Shapes

Next

Previous

AO3

...

He runs.

 He runs past Patton, he shoves open his door, locks it behind him, then lunges through the portal hidden under his bed that Remus had installed years ago, when he’d first moved to the light side, a shortcut to his imagination, to the dark side. He pulls the trapdoor shut behind him, landing on the forest floor with barely a sound.

 Colors are brighter, stranger, he’s pretty sure in this form he can actually see colors others can’t, see at a spectrum impossible for humans, since he isn’t, not really. That thought chokes a sob out of him, though it comes out as more of a growling hiss, and he throws himself back into movement, speeding across the ground, jumping up, into the trees, when they become too dense, seeing the cliff approaching, but not slowing, he braces himself, springs, his stomach flip flopping as he drops-

 Then he shoots his web and latches onto the trees on the other side, swinging across the canyon. If he were in a better mood, he’d be laughing right now, at the feel of the wind, at moving so fast, at letting himself go, more than he has in years, letting himself go feral, but he isn’t, his heart is pounding and his breath is speeding and he’s moving, faster and faster, and faster-

 Then, suddenly, there’s no more trees.

 He doesn’t have time to stop his momentum. He manages to web the ground, before he crashes onto it, letting his shoulder impact first, easily slipping into a barrel roll, before losing control and tumbling across the earth, head spinning as he finally comes to a stop, hissing through clenched teeth as he sits up, taking in the damage.

His shoulder is bruised to hell, and scraped raw and bloody, and so are his legs, his hands, though his appendages are intact. There’s a gash on his forehead, and he curses, pulling his sleeve over his hand, pressing it against the wound to try and staunch the bleeding, letting out another hissing breath at the ache in his chest, a bruised or cracked rib.

 He’s crying. He doesn’t know when it started, he feels too numb to cry, but he is, a steady, endless flow of tears that wash down his face, and he squeezes his eyes closed, doubling over, legs closing in around him, hiding him from view.

 “Hello, little one.” He nearly jumps, at the sudden low and sonorous voice, but he doesn’t care, he simply curls tighter, trying to suppress the pathetic whimper trying to escape his lips. “You aren’t one of the usual resident monstrosities of Remus’s design. Are you new?” He flinches hard, this time, realizing what he’s being mistaken for, because he must truly look horrendous, and Patton, god, Patton, not to mention Roman, once he hears, and Logan will just want to study him, dissect him, like some specimen, he doesn’t want to be the monster, he isn’t, he isn’t, he isn’theisn’theisn’t- “Let me take a look at you, darling. I can help make it better.” He pulls his legs in tighter, shaking, forcing words to his lips.

 “N-no. G-g-go away.” He hisses, and he hears a sharp inhale.

 “Anxiety. You… aren’t supposed to be here.” He laughs, at that, a cold, hard, bitter laugh.

 “look at me. Where else could I go?” He bares his fangs, eyes flashing and shadows growing as he feels hands pushing aside his legs, gently tipping his chin up, meeting the orange cat’s eyes of the dragon witch.

 “I remember a time when you wore this form more often than not. You and Remus were feral little things, more beast than man, some days, all shadowy blobs of too many teeth and limbs and claws, with your venomous bites and poison laced scratches, I remember when you’d spend hours, weaving the most wonderous tapestries, that sparkled so brilliantly, in the morning dew. Or ones near invisible, that would trip up Remus, as he tried to invade your lair. Once you wouldn’t have consolidated monstrous, with evil, they are different. Plenty of monstrous things are still beautiful, after all. Plenty of monstrous things are still smart, and kind, and sweet, little one. I would have hoped that to be a lesson you remembered, still.” Her words are soft and gentle as she caresses his cheek, a tender smile on her lips. “I haven’t forgotten, my tiny terror.” He folds, falling into her open arms and sobbing, letting it all go, as her near black wings enfold them both, her tail gently coiling around his feet. She doesn’t say anything, simply holds him, rocks him as he cries, promising safety with her steady presence, her slightly hotter than normal warmth. “I gather from your state you don’t want to go back to the world?” He shakes his head frantically, not moving from his place in her arms. “alright, darling. Hold on tight, for a moment.” He feels a slight vertigo, the world running like a watercolor painting, before resettling to a homey looking cottage, a fire lit and providing gentle warmth, the floors covered in soft rugs, the smell of cinnamon and something else, something warm and fizzing and popping in the air. Magic.

 “If you want tea, you’ll have to let go.” He does with a slightly rueful smile, one she adores, and she brushes back his hair, before moving to put the kettle on, getting her favorite teacup from the cupboard, along with a black and white chipped jack Skellington mug.

 “you still have that?” He says, voice coming out hoarse, as he pulls himself into one of the surprisingly comfy wooden chairs surrounding the small table in the kitchen, watching as she bustles about.

 “Of course. I hoped I’d have occasion to use it again. Though I admit I hoped it would be under better circumstances.” He winces, looking away.

 “sorry. For not visiting. I… I should have. Me and Ree hadn’t been on the best terms, for… well, for a while. I didn’t want to chance being caught here by myself.”

 “Yes. I heard all about it, believe me. He fluctuated between grief, despair, and unmitigated rage, before settling on a scarily distant disdain. Any mention of you and he just… shut down.”

 “sorry.” He whispers again, to her soft huff.

 “Stop apologizing, darling. I’m not placing blame or accusing. I know you had your reasons. Now, let me have a look at you, we can’t have those getting infected, and you know they will.” He groans, wincing as he pulls his sleeve away from his forehead.

 “But it stings!” He whines, making her laugh, as she gathers the warm water and soft hand towel.

 “You’ve had worse, Anxiety. And unless you want me to summon Remus to instant heal you, we’ll have to do it the old fashioned way.” Her voice is slightly stern now, the same tone Patton always takes, when scolding them or breaking up a fight, and he smiles slightly, glancing up at her.

 “alright. It’s, um, Virgil, now, by the way.” She smiles, coming around the table and gently dabbing away the dried blood from the gash, wincing in sympathy as he grits his teeth, before patting it dry and securing gauze. “Ah. It suits you, I think." He pulls up his pants to reveal his skinned knees, his shins peppered with scrapes, though nothing there is hurt too badly, though it still stings like a son of a gun. They’re just finishing looking at his shoulder, her turning away to get an icepack for it, when he hears the tell tale swing of the doggy door, small scratching against the mat in the entryway.

 “Oh, god-“ He manages to just barely brace himself, as a ball of icy silvery blue barrels into his chest, knocking his chair over backwards, sending his arms pinwheeling before he collides with the floor, his fall slowed slightly by a quick spell, that lowers him gently the last inch to avoid concussing him. He doesn’t have time to thank her, however, as his face is getting destroyed by licks, and he can’t get a word out edgewise, between his pleas to stop, and his gasping laughter.

 “Nilas, stop, down girl, NiNi!” He laughs, finally managing to get the large cat sized dragon under control, though her tail still whipped wildly, and when he rolled out of the chair to sit up on the floor, she instantly climbed his shirt, draping herself around his shoulders, tail hanging off one, curling around his upper bicep to keep herself steady, her head resting on her paws on his other. He laughs again at her low, contented chuffing, the equivalent of a dragon purr, as he scratches her head. “Happy to see me, huh?” She buts her head against his cheek in response, before giving it one more lick, before laying back down on her paws, though her head stays tucked up against his face.

 “Yeah. I missed you too, Nilas.” He mumbles, pain forgotten in the face of a happy dragon snuggling against him, a soothing, perfect weight that grounds him, helps him breathe a little easier against the stress slowly fading away. He rights the chair and slips back into it, taking the mug that she sets in front of him.

 “Roman still giving you trouble?” He asks, after a few moments in comfortable silence, taking a sip of the tea, which is deep and herbal, just a hint of sweetness from the honey. She scowls, and he can hear her tail sweeping across the floor.

 “Don’t get me started. I enjoy playing his games, but that boy has not given me a moments peace. Do you know how hard it is, to swap into evil enchantress mode, when your nemesis has showed up in the middle of you baking? I had a pie in the oven and I couldn’t stop worrying it was going to burn.”

 “did it?” he asks, grinning.

 “No. I told him he’d better stop wasting his time with me, and worry about my agents infiltrating the castle, and he took off. There weren’t any, of course, from what I understand he had a lovely game of whodunnit about the royal crown, though it turned out he’d simply misplaced it.” Virgil laughed, imagining Roman frantically running around, accusing random townspeople, making one of those red string conspiracy cork boards, only to find it under his bed.

 “Oh, that’s amazing.” He finally wheezes through his giggling, taking another long sip of his tea, before yawning hugely.

 “alright, enough catching up. To bed with you.”

 “but-"

 “uh, uh, uh, you know the drill. You’ll be falling out of the chair soon, anyway.” She teases gently, helping support him as he stands, a bit wobbly on his feet, another yawn impossible to stifle sneaking through.

 “Curse my traitorous body.” He mutters, making her laugh, as he lays down on the cot in the dark corner of the living room, pulling all the fluffy blankets up so high they nearly cover his head, Nilas circling a few times, before curling up snuggled against his chest, kneading her paws contentedly.

 “sweet dreams, tiny terror.” She murmurs, kissing his forehead fondly, as his eyes flutter shut. “sleep well. You could use it.”

 “mhm. Thanks, Tabitha. Love you.” He mumbles, drifting off, a small smile on his lips as he rests his head against Nilas.

 She smiles, stroking his hair a few more times before pulling away, a low sigh slipping from her lips.

 Well. No doubt Remus would appear soon, and he could explain what had sent Virgil into such a tizzy, though no doubt it was something to do with the others. He wouldn’t have been so scared of himself, otherwise. He was never scared of himself, until he started hanging around them. He used to revel in causing mayhem, tearing through the imagination, scrapping with Remus, winning, more often than not, on his own merit. He was such a small little shadow, but so fierce, with those eyes of his, peeking guardedly through his mop of hair, an almost perpetual frown on his face, always braced for the worst.

 But he was kind, too. The first day she'd come across him alone, he’d glared at her, hissed, baring his fangs and scuttling backwards, ready to bite.

 She’d knelt down, almost as surprised to see him as he clearly was to see her.

 “hello, little one. What are you doing, out here alone?” He hadn’t answered, merely continued to glare, tensed to spring or run. She’d hummed, looking around, the field was full of knee high grass, his head barely poking above the stalks, wildflowers filling the space, butterflies (both literal and figurative) drifting through the air. A distant shout rang through the imagination, an echo of whatever turmoil was occurring up in the rest of the mind, and he flinched, curling in on himself, breath catching.

 “ah. Trying to find some quiet, until the storm blows over.” The little shadow nodded, watching a bee struggle to stay atop a flower blowing in the breeze, before reaching out and holding it steady, a small smile crossing his face as he leaned in, watching the bee burry its head in the pollen. “Well, don’t mind me, then. Is it alright, if I stay here to read? I won’t bother you.” A moment passed, but he nodded solemnly, watching the bee flit away, before fixing his gaze on her, which she studiously ignored, studying her book while watching out of the corner of her eye.

 Another echoing shout, almost like a thunder crash, and he let out a little shriek. Before she could ask if he was okay, the little shadow had scuttled closer, throwing himself onto her lap and curled in a shivering ball, hiding himself under her cloak.

 “Oh, darling, it’s alright. They won’t hurt you here, I promise.” He hadn’t uncurled, and she’d hesitantly wrapped an arm around him, brushing through his hair with her other hand, humming softly, until she felt him slowly start to uncurl, realizing finally he’d fallen asleep, tiny hands clutching at her shirt, impossible to pry off even if she’d wanted to.

 When Creativity and Deceit panicked later, realizing Anxiety had been missing all day, they were surprised to find him happily coloring on the floor of the witch’s cottage, dark aura dispersed enough they could actually see his body, a dragon curled around him protectively.

 The next day he’d shown back up on her doorstep, a bit shyer, but no less brave, holding out a flower crown, painstakingly woven with colorful flowers, and it may have been the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. From then on, Anxiety, or Virgil, now, was as good as hers, under her protection, always welcome, always at home in her home. Her baby, her shadow, her tiny terror.