#genuinely cannot imagine how much better a proper chair would be.

[vanillabat99]

I might finally be getting a proper wheelchair!!!!!!! My doctor is willing to write up a prescription for it, but she wants me to check with a social worker for help with the cost before we make any decisions (which is absolutely fine)!!! I don't have any insurance right now so it will be very expensive, but it is finally a possibility :3

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: Instead of shattering Dad Nie's saber to kill his pride, he shatters Baxia - and thus Nie Mingjue. What better way to punish a man who dared to think anything of his could rival Wen Ruohan? Only, Nie Mingjue survives... and Baxia does too. Of course, sharing Nie Mingjue's body, neither of them is quite the same...

Curse-breaker (Chapter 1/4)

- ao3 -

"I see," Wen Ruohan said, his teeth slightly gritted, his irritation plain and obvious for all to see. "Indeed, I must concede that Sect Leader Nie's saber is finer than the one I own; it is undeniable. Lao Nie, your saber."

He offered it back, plainclothes-wrapped hilt first.

"You do my sect honor," Sect Leader Nie said with a wide grin, accepting the saber. "Our sabers are indeed the finest – and more than that, they get better with each generation. To tell you the truth, my friend: this one isn't mine, but my son's!"

He revealed the hilt, not anything like his own, and laughed, delighted by the joke he had played.

Wen Ruohan’s face contorted, growing pale in what everyone assumed was rage.

It was only later that Lao Nie, at least, recognized that it had been horror.

-

Nie Mingjue was screaming, and had not stopped screaming.

His throat was rent all to pieces, his fingers bloody from clawing at his own flesh, his eyes rolling around in his head as if by some inescapable fit -

"It's a qi deviation," one of the elders said. "Induced by the breaking of his saber. We should take him to the tombs."

"Fuck off," Lao Nie told them, as if saying the words would deny the truth. "He's too young!"

He put himself between them and his son.

"You shouldn't have let him take up the saber so young," the elder persisted, as if it had been Nie Mingjue’s fault that his son’s saber had been shattered by a man a century older than him, and all because of a dispute that had nothing to do with him. "You shouldn't have shown it to others, left it unguarded -"

"Do you think I don't know that?!" Lao Nie roared, abruptly pushed beyond his limits. "Do you think that I don't already regret...!"

He regretted. Oh, how he regretted!

He had not regretted a single thing in his life since the day his father had told him that he would one day die, and how. Even back then, he had swallowed down the regret without choking on it: he had accepted it, understood it, and resolved to live the life he had left to him to the utmost. What good, he had reasoned, would regret do? Would it win him a single additional day of life? Would it wring out a single ounce of additional joy from the days he did have?

There was no point in regret.

Whether that was the right decision or not, he didn’t know, but it was the one he made, and he stuck with it.

His whole life, Lao Nie had been reckless and carefree even by the already low standards of his family. He was always indulging in familiar pleasures and searching for new experiences, doing whatever he could to excite a palate already starting to grow jaded. He broke hearts as easily as he won them, and had what even he admitted was the worst taste in partners imaginable, attracted as he was to danger and death as if to an old and much-beloved friend. He laughed at the idea of risk or consequences, taking care only for his sect, which he loved; everything else was negotiable, or so he'd thought. He'd scared the wits out of most of his family time and time again, and - perhaps as recompense - had grown his first grey hair dozens of years too early. To this day, he still didn't know whether the reason everyone called him Lao Nie so often that even he thought of himself that way was because they were genuinely fond of him, because of the premature black-and-white mix of his hair, or perhaps just as some unspoken prayer that he finally get over himself and grow up.

If it was the last, it hadn’t worked. Even as he’d gotten older, he hadn’t changed one bit.

The only thing that had changed was that he’d finally found something he loved more than his sect.

He loved his children.

He loved his children, whether the righteous and too-serious Mingjue with his secret penchant for tears or the flippant and carefree Huaisang who was lazier than a slug in the sun. He loved them and he, unlike his father before him, did not burden them over-early with knowledge that would only be an itch under their skin that slowly drove them mad.

He loved them.

And now one of them was dying – because of him.

"You should take him to the tombs," the elder said, and ignored the crash of the chair Lao Nie threw at their head. "You let him become a man of our sect, Lao Nie. Do him the honor of letting him die as one.”

“You…!”

“Or do you think you are being kind, leaving him like this?"

Lao Nie looked down at his son, his Mingjue, the baby he’d held in his arms and the toddler he’d taught to walk and the child he’d chased and the teenager he’d taught the saber. His boy, who was thrashing wildly on the bed, spitting up foam along with blood and weeping uncontrollably.

"A-die," Nie Mingjue whimpered, just as he had when he'd been younger and caught in the throes of fever or breaking a bone through his own misadventures. Tears streamed endlessly down his eyes, his brave little boy who was not-so-secretly a bit of a crybaby. "A-die, a-die, it hurts..."

Lao Nie closed his eyes in pain.

He regretted.

But it was too late now to regret.

"We'll take him to the tombs," he finally conceded, and for the first time in his life he truly felt old. "Just let me say goodbye."

-

If you go to the tombs, you will not come out.

Nie Mingjue might only be a child, thirteen or fourteen years old – he couldn’t remember clearly any longer which it was – but he had been a good student before that, reading faithfully through his sect’s histories and listening to his teachers. He knew enough to read between the lines, to reckon the subtle indications and the not-so-subtle hints: he knew, even before he’d been officially told, what it was that he faced down at the end of the road that his ancestors had built for him to walk.

The early death – the painful death – the silent tombs –

There had been so many whispers when he’d taken up his Baxia too early. How could he not know?

His father hadn’t wanted him to know, though. So he hadn’t said anything, and pretended he didn’t.

(Huaisang could be ignorant for real, he’d thought to himself. It’d be okay if he didn’t know.)

If you go to the tombs, you will not come out. You cannot go to the tombs!

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes.

He no longer screamed, even though the spiritual energy that had once felt rich and nourishing and strong now felt like corrosive acid scouring his veins, burning him from the inside out – it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, wasn’t still compelled too; it was only that he had screamed too much, wearing out his voice down to nothingness from overuse.

If I go to the tombs, I will not come out, he thought, dimly aware that something wasn’t right. Thinking was hard, and grew ever harder: the qi deviation, for that was what it was, was worsening, not getting better.

Would not ever get better.

His Baxia, his loyal saber filled to the brim with resentful energy, had shattered. Shattered, and now all that resentful energy that she had collected for herself had flooded back into him, drowning his brain in rage and madness.

Flooding him with – Baxia.

I cannot go to the tombs.

You cannot go to the tombs, Baxia agreed – at least, he thought it was Baxia. It might be himself: he could no longer tell the difference.

She’d shattered, and he’d shattered, too. His mind and his body and his meridians and his golden core: everything was in pieces. His spiritual energy was running the wrong way, twisting him up inside, hurting instead of helping – the rage and resentful energy wasn’t going into Baxia but coming back into him, and it was poison.

There was no fixing it. His ancestors had tried everything they could: brought in the finest physicians with their needles and their clever ideas, sought out mysterious techniques and strange geniuses that played games even with their golden cores, even tried out demonic cultivation to see if it would help – with their lives and their children’s lives at stake, was there anything they wouldn’t do?

As if it would be that easy.

As if the road to death taken time and time again over the generations could be so easily evaded.

Nie Mingjue was a Nie. He had had a qi deviation. He was going to die.

But he was young, too.

Too young.

They all said that’d he formed his core at an extraordinary young age, and he had, too, verifiable evidence of his unusual genius for cultivating – only a golden core formed too early wasn’t quite the same as one done in the usual way at the usual time. It’d formed all right, all the spiritual liquid flowing through his meridians condensing into a shining solid sphere in his dantian, but it was still a little gummy in comparison to the normal ones. It had to be. He’d formed the core before he’d reached adolescence, without any of the necessary hormones running through his body; if his golden core was as fully solid as most adults, he’d be stuck at the age and size he was at when the core was first formed.

Normally, all this meant was that his foundation would be a little unstable for the first few years, just until he got old enough, and only when he was finally at his proper age would it truly settle into place along with his body, growing firm and solid and far more powerful than all the rest.

But he’d never gotten the chance to grow that old.

Nie Mingjue’s core had cracked when his saber that had been fundamentally tied to it had shattered, but unlike the steel of the saber it was still more fluid than solid. Even as the corrosive resentful energy burned him, even as the spiritual energy rioted within him, his old instincts were still there, that subconscious genius for cultivating already at work, trying to force the spiritual energy to run through him, trying to put those broken pieces back together. For any normal Nie, the greater his talent, the faster he’d be driven mad, but for Nie Mingjue, those gummy pieces of his core, sticky and still fluid, were instead being soldered together using spiritual energy and resentful energy both, and unlike the stiff and brittle solidity of the golden core of adulthood, they were still flexible enough to stick together – to coalesce into a whole once more.

Only –

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes.

He’d already opened them once, and now he opened them again. The world as he had always recognized it, he saw through his left eye – but through his right, there was a whole new world.

It was a world of black and white, of good and evil, a world of kinetic movement, of steel and rage incarnate…the world through the perception of a saber spirit. A saber spirit who had shattered when her steel was shattered, shattered when her master’s core was shattered, and whose pieces were even now integrating interchangeably with her master’s pieces into a single indissoluble whole.

If we go to the tombs, they thought, and now that was it, that was right, we will not come out.

Well, that was simple enough to fix.

They just wouldn’t go to the tombs.

-

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Nie Huaisang’s father hissed. “He can’t be – he wasn’t in any state – he couldn’t have just gotten up and run away – no, stop, let’s go. I don’t want Huaisang hearing.”

Nie Huaisang hated it when his father remembered to be discreet around him.

His da-ge was never discreet, he thought, pouting. If anything, that was something his father often complained about, even if he would be chuckling all the while: that Nie Mingjue had all the tact of a lady boar in full charge, riled up in defense of her children, and with about as much care for anything that did not meet his stringent expectations of justice and fairness – which was rather a lot.

Where was his da-ge, anyway? Nie Huaisang hadn’t seen him in days, not since he went out on that night hunt with their father. He’d asked his nurse about it, because it was unusual for his brother not to come play with him once he’d returned, and she’d said that he’d gotten sick and couldn’t come to see him just yet. But surely it was long enough that he’d be better already!

Nothing could keep his big brother down for long.

Decided, Nie Huaisang hopped up and headed outside, planning to go find his brother. His brother would explain what was going on, simplifying things down until even a little kid like him could get it, and he wouldn’t make Nie Huaisang feel stupid for needing that simplification.

His brother thought Nie Huaisang was smart.

Nie Huaisang walked along the railing next to his window, teetering back and forth with his hands outstretched for balance – his brother had showed him this pathway long ago, telling him that he could use it when he wanted to sneak out go play or look at birds, or even just come to find him whenever he had nightmares.

His brother wasn’t in his rooms, though.

Nie Huaisang sighed. Maybe he was in the study, or the training field, or something like that, but if Nie Huaisang tried to go there, he’d be dragged into lessons or training as well, and he didn’t want that.

He decided to go look at birds instead.

His brother had come up with a secret path to the outside that only they knew, the two of them, one that led them all the way out into the forest where the really interesting birds were. It was close enough to home that it was still safe, still within the bounds of the Unclean Realm’s protective arrays, but far enough to feel unburdened by the presence of their elders.

Nie Huaisang went to look at birds, but it wasn’t birds he found.

“…who’s there?” he asked, seeing movement in the bushes – something too large to be a bird, too small to be a bear, too two-legged to be a boar or a dog. Whoever it was, they were breathing hard, as if they’d run too far, interspersed with little whines of pain, like they were hurt. “Who are…”

The figure in the bush moved forward.

“…da-ge?”

Nie Huaisang’s big brother didn’t look right. He was crouched down, carrying his body low as if he were trying to support himself and protect his middle at the same time, his fingers digging into the ground for balance – his lips were peeled back from his teeth in something caught between a grimace and a growl. His left eye was normal, but his right was horribly red, shot through with pulsing veins that seemed to bleed into the iris, the color of which had faded from warm golden brown to something more like a slate or steel grey.

He sounded like he was in pain.

His brother was in pain.

Nie Huaisang took a step towards him, deeply concerned, and Nie Mingjue backed away.

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang whispered, terrified. “Da-ge, it’s me, it’s Huaisang – I won’t hurt you!”

Nie Mingjue whined, a sound deep in the back of his throat, but this time, when Nie Huaisang stepped forward, he didn’t run. He waited until Nie Huaisang was close before darting forward and nuzzling Nie Huaisang’s hand with his cheek, ducking his head down and letting him touch his hair as if he were a dog.

His brother wasn’t just sick, Nie Huaisang realized. He was reallysick.

“What happened?” he asked, and his brother just looked sad. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

His brother nodded. A short jerking motion, barely recognizable, and yet – a nod.

“…do you have to?”

Another nod.

Nie Huaisang’s lip quivered. “Will you be all right?”

His brother nuzzled his palm again. It wasn’t an answer.

Nie Huaisang took a deep breath. “I won’t tell anyone.”

His brother seemed almost to smile.

And then he was gone.

Walking all the way back inside before bursting into tears was the hardest thing Nie Huaisang had ever done in his life, but the worst part was knowing that this was only the beginning.

[avversiera-writes]

touch your heart [senju tobirama/you] - chapter 2

Summary: Hashirama might go down as the worst matchmaker in history, but he thinks he might be on to something. Tobirama sees through his brother's schemes and is determined not to fall for it. Or fall for you.

Word Count: about 4k

AO3 LINK TO TOUCH YOUR HEART

AOR SERIES LINK TO ‘TIL DEATH DO US PART

[<<<CHAPTER ONE]

The due dates that Tobirama gave you are more reasonable and flexible than you thought. You try to find something to complain about so you can relay it to Madara later and earn a small smile from him, but no, there is no reason to complain about it. The only thing you want to complain about are his so-called rules. Tobirama is not about leisure or lightening up, though that is not a bother to you if you are going to be honest. Planning to mess with him a little is just an attempt to wipe off that serious face of his. You want to know him based on what you see from him, not from what other people have told you.

However, you also do not want to mess things up. You are determined to work as hard as he does for this project because it is special to the village and for the children that are going to be attending the Academy. 

Also because you know you’ll get paid for it. You have been running low on money these days ever since you bought your own place. 

 Now that you are older, you wish you had the proper education to be a shinobi. You have to learn most of your skills along the way and apart from your family who had basically banished you, and even now, you are still learning as there are a lot of things that you missed. 

 Now, the children that are going to grow up here have something better for the future. They have more choices and bigger chances to become good shinobis. 

You get settled in your bed, which is literally the only furniture your place has. It is your dining table, your workplace, and also your resting place. Your weapons are littered on the floor, and your swords are leaning against the wall in one corner of the room. The books and the scrolls given to you lay open or stacked near your bed where you can reach for it. Some clean laundry you have yet to get to sit on the foot of your bed, and the space you are currently lying on is the only space your bed can make for you at the moment. 

 Quaint, but it has a lot of potential. 

Your new home, which is situated just at the edge of the village and newly built, is a home for civilians and also other shinobis who are not part of a clan, or those who rather have a place for themselves. This is a sign that the village is growing, and more and more families are becoming involved with it. 

You force yourself to go through the many materials that you need to read and study up on for the rest of the night until midnight, and you begin to write your suggestions after going through the material once again. You are good at absorbing information, but at the same time, you have trouble keeping still for a very long time. Sometimes you have the unfortunate ability to memorize the wrong things because your mind zeroes into whatever your brain wants to obsess over. 

 However, you have made it this far. You can adjust. 

You hope. 

//

You are pretty sure that Tobirama is sending you around the village in a goose chase just so that he can work on the curriculum himself. It’s obvious he did not want you near him with all those rules about preserving his boundaries. The said goose chase sounds reasonable enough–talk to the members of the clans, the ones who are the keeper of their knowledge and history and write them down. He did not even look you in the face when he sent you away, he just gave you a list of what to ask the clans residing in Konoha and a blank notebook and a scroll for you to record all of the information in. 

 This whole ordeal occupied you for the whole day and it also happens to bleed through the next day, in which you are convinced Tobirama has completed at least half the work. 

The thought does not make you happy. You want to do something, damn it. You feel like your life depends on it. 

Another day passes, and this time, Tobirama has you looking for artists, merchants, inventors and other skilled people in Konoha and recording their name and the location to find them. This part you understand well because you know that Hashirama wants to expand on other skills, but it feels so tedious and it makes the day longer. Not to mention, you do not really know anyone since you have been busy polishing your skills with Madara. Now that you think about it, you spend an awful lot of time with the man, ever since you came here. 

 Before you know it, you are breaking into a run towards the Hokage mansion. 

 Tobirama cannot be left to his own devices. You will not let him take this from you. 

You find the white-haired man seated on his usual spot, hand poised elegantly over a sheet of paper and eyes moving along the lines of a book he is reading. 

“Finished already?” Tobirama says in a very flat tone. 

 “Yeah, of course, I already know the people to put down.” Okay, that was a lie, and you know Tobirama had caught that because he glances at you briefly with narrowed eyes. 

You walk up to him and you lay out the information you gathered today. 

“Where’s your family from?” Tobirama straight up asks you without any preamble. The expression on his face does not change though you can feel that he is bothered by you. 

 You are taken aback by a beat, but you have no problem answering it. You have memorized the lines that you have to say that it begins to feel true. “They are a little far north from here, but they’re just traders, merchants, skillsmen.” 

 “Of what?” 

 “With the right amount of money, anything.” You say in an even, but casual tone. “They don’t like shinobi, so I left to make a living of my own.”

You can tell Tobirama did not like your answer. He puts his pen down and you feel him scrutinizing you. 

 "You have any friends?" He immediately follows up. 

 However, you have long mastered the skills of deflecting and only letting people know certain things about you. They always see what they want to see in you, never bothering to put two and two together that you are just painting a pretty picture for them to look at. 

 "Too many," you reply vaguely. 

 Tobirama sighs, and his eyes narrow. 

“I cannot trust you if you continue to evade me. This is integral to this village and its future, and I cannot have, no, I cannot afford to waste time or make mistakes,” Tobirama says and he meets your eyes. 

“I can promise you, I am ready to work just as much as you so let's not get personal,” you lean back and cross your arms. “And after this, I will get out of your hair forever. You wouldn’t even have to hear from me.” 

 Tobirama rolls his eyes, but you can tell he is satisfied with your answer. “Oh please, with a village this small, and me, holding an important position in the said village, you cannot guarantee that.” 

 You smirk and you pull out the chair across from him. “Touché, Lord Tobirama,” you emphasize the lord with a mocking tone. 

Tobirama grits his jaw visibly and he grabs his pen almost angrily. You are starting to think that maybe this is what Tobirama generally looks like. 

 “Get to work.” 

 “What is it this time? List the several types of drinks the people in this village make? Investigate the best type of fabric to wear for each season?” You prompt, unable to keep the grin from spreading across your lips. He just let you get away with calling him lord. 

 Adding a title to someone’s name is supposed to be a sign of respect, but the way you say it makes it sound derogatory. Like you’re cursing him. 

Tobirama looks about ready to yell, and part of you wants him to take the bait. You lean closer to gauge his reactions and you watch him immediately school his expression. It is like watching a magic show, one moment something is there, the next, it disappears. 

“Well, if you wanted me to make up more tasks for you to do, you should have just asked,” Tobirama deadpans. 

You watch him, intrigued. “Wow. Are you trying to be funny, or are you trying to insult me?” 

 “Please stop talking when I am working,” Tobirama does not sound like he is pleading. He hands you a stack of books to go through. “I want you to compile a list of necessary skills that you deem important, and I will do the same. We can discuss and vet on which skills are required to learn for each grade level right after.” 

You let out a breezy laugh, and you note how Tobirama seems to twitch at the sound. “Right, right, fine.” You pause. “Have you looked at my notes?”

“Of course I have,” Tobirama huffs and he shoots you a distasteful glare, and to you, it looks like he’s tired of talking. “I will make my own notes on where you’re lacking and then you revise it.” 

 “What do we need those for?” You ask, genuinely curious. “What else are we in charge of making?” 

“The reason I had you seek out artists, writers, bookmakers, and the like, is because we will commission them to make textbooks,” Tobirama explains. “We just need to get the information together. Meanwhile, I would also like to fill this library and another public library with other kinds of books.” 

You tap your chin. “Your brother tells me you like to invent things and all that. Are you going to include your research and your inventions in the library?” 

 Tobirama sighs, visibly withering at the statement that his brother talks behind his back, but he revives himself enough to get back to his work. “Depends on what my brother approves of.” 

You let out an involuntary chuckle. Here are the two most powerful known shinobis in the world right now, and they argue over mundane things. 

 Tobirama raises an eyebrow at you and you shake your head. 

He takes that as a sign to keep on working, so you decide to keep to yourself. 

 Surprisingly, you are starting to enjoy this. It’s not as bad as you imagined. 

//

Perhaps you spoke too soon, because here you are at the crack of dawn–no not even the crack of dawn because the surroundings are still dark blue. You yawn as you arrive, and find Tobirama waiting in the middle of the training ground in a different outfit you have not seen him in. He seems to only have one color palette; he wears a navy wrap-around jacket that has a collar in a lighter shade of blue. The sleeves are short, showing off his muscles, and all of this is tied with a light yellow-green belt around his waist. A sword is secured to his belt, and it hangs on his side ready to be drawn. A happuri guards his forehead and the sides of his face, and for some reason, this makes him look more authoritarian and older. A mesh armor peeks through the space between his collars and even in your sleepiness, you note a defined torso that you keep to yourself. 

You do not even see an ounce of sleepiness in him and you huff.  

 Tobirama merely glances at you, but every time he looks at you, it feels like he is already exasperated. 

 “Is it just us?” You try not to sound too whiny. “Also I ate breakfast, I’m not falling for whatever it is you have in mind.” 

 “And what do you think is on my mind?” 

 “I don’t know? A test of survival, starving us for days in the forest with only the surroundings as our resource?” You rest a hand on your two swords–an uchigatana and a wakizashi, both the same in appearance and made from the same metal. 

“I said not to eat too much breakfast, I did not discourage you from it.” Tobirama lets out a sarcastic sigh–something he can really pull off well. “I am not that cruel.” 

 You hear an excited gasp behind you and you turn to find Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzo walking towards the two of you. 

“Tobirama-sensei!” Hiruzen calls enthusiastically, at the crack of dawn. “I hope you don’t mind, I brought my friend again!” 

You glance at Tobirama and you see his face visibly soften at the sight of his student. 

“And I didn’t know Y/N-sensei’s joining us!” Hiruzen bounds up to you and you reach up to ruffle his hair. He turns to you and points at Tobirama. “He’s a really cool sensei! Really cool!” 

Tobirama suddenly looks constipated and you laugh out loud. 

 “We’ll see, kiddo,” you tell him. “We’ll see.” 

Two more kids come, and the girl, Utatane Koharu, somehow looks pissed, which you can suddenly relate to. The boy beside her, Mitokado Homura, looks more calm and composed as he adjusts his glasses on his face. 

Tobirama nods, and then he breaks off into a light jog. Obediently, the kids follow after him and you grudgingly follow behind them. They must be used to this. 

 After a few rounds, the kids start to stretch and you do the same as well, and everything has been pretty calm. You watch as the kids do sets of push-ups, sit-ups, calisthenics and you are impressed at their stamina. They’re barely twelve, but then again, if you are training under Senju Tobirama, you can tell that you will be pushed to your limit. 

You feel a pang of envy from these kids for a moment, but you push it away. There is no reason to look back into the past and feel bitter about how things worked out. 

“So what’s next, sensei?” Hiruzen inquires. You can see how much these kids admire the man. 

 “Sparring,” Tobirama replies. “Since Danzo’s here, you guys are evenly matched. Last man standing gets to fight me.” 

 “What about Y/N-sensei?” Danzo interjects. 

 “Yeah, what about me?” You smirk, and you lighten your voice so that it sounds more childish. 

You can feel Koharu rolling her eyes. 

You narrow your eyes at him and let out a small stream of breath through your mouth. “I see.” 

 Tobirama slightly raises his chin haughtily. It suits him. He does not need to speak to dominate the atmosphere. He shrugs, and it sparks something in you. 

 “I’ll still try my best,” you smirk, but underneath your facade, you are starting to get annoyed. Which is new, because you are generally a patient person. 

Tobirama takes Hiruzen and Koharu while you take the other two to coach during their matches. You stand in between Danzo and Homura, watching their small faces study each other. 

“Don’t kill each other,” you advise, and you start their match. 

 The two go at each other, with Danzo throwing the first punch. You back off a little to make sure that you can see their stances. 

 Homura whirls around and his foot juts out, with his heel aiming towards Danzo’s head. Danzo ducks down, and kicks at Homura’s stomach the moment he regains his posture from the kick. 

Homura staggers back, and now he is on the defensive, blocking Danzo’s hits and kicks, barely dodging them as he keeps backing away. You notice the hits and misses from each boy.

 “Homura, don’t back away!” You yell out. “Get closer to him!” 

Homura does as you say, and Danzo is unable to land a hit on him, limiting his movements unless–

 Danzo jumps back to get away, and kicks Homura on the chest. 

 “Nice!” You cheer. 

 “Sensei, whose side are you on?” Homura complains and his hand comes up to rub his chest. 

You laugh. “Neither!” You glance at both of their faces. “Okay, you two, come here.” 

 Danzo and Homura face each other again. 

 “Save your movements, don’t be so generous with them,” you tell them. “Don’t punch just to punch. Again!” 

The two boys come at each other and you stand back to watch them again. This time, you do not offer any more suggestions. You glance to where Tobirama is at, and he is squatting on the ground, his eyes trained on the students’ footwork. 

 You hear him call out that Hiruzen’s feet are too far apart. 

You snap back to the two boys just in time to watch Homura flip Danzo on his back. 

You walk over and you peer at Danzo. “You okay?” 

 “Yes,” the boy wheezes out. 

“Alright, you’re done,” you chuckle and you look at Homura. “You win, then. Good job. Help him up.” 

You glance at the other group, and you see Koharu sock Hiruzen straight to his face and Tobirama jump up to his feet. Hiruzen gets to his feet, and you see a trickle of blood coming out of his nose. 

When Hiruzen gets closer, you ruffle his hair affectionately and you laugh as he grimaces. 

 “Not funny!” He whines nasally. 

 “Keep your hands up next time!” You taunt even though he may already know this. 

Tobirama puts a hand on his shoulder and steers him towards a rock so that he can sit. “Sit up and lean forward,” he tells his student. 

 The rest of the kids walk towards him to watch and poke fun at Hiruzen. 

 You stay back and cross your arms to watch them. You know that there is no place for you to be there. 

 Once Tobirama is finished attending to his student, he turns to you. “Koharu, you’re the referee.” 

You size him up, your eyes travelling from his face and down to his waist. What was one of his rules again? 

 Anticipation builds in your core, and your hand rests on the scabbard of your sword, your thumb playing at the hilt. 

“Are we including tricks today?” You inquire. 

 “If you want,” Tobirama curtly replies. 

Koharu starts the fight, and Tobirama wastes no time coming at you. 

 His first hit is heavy, and you block it with both of your forearms and brace yourself by stepping back one leg. You are quick to grab his wrist as you twist your arm and you step forward, meaning to put your leg behind his, but he breaks away from you and disturbs the momentum that you were going to use against him. 

 You are quick to back away because he comes at you without stopping. 

 He is fast, and he is heavy with his hands. You notice his open hands, ready for grappling. His stance is lower, and you know that it will be hard to knock him off balance, and the effects of kicking at his head will go to his advantage. 

You need an opening. 

 You launch yourself at him, and as he prepares himself to grab you, you drop to your knees and slide in between his legs, hitting his knee as you pass him by. He turns to your direction, and you quickly use his bent knee to step and kick towards his head. He blocks you and you see him almost grab at your ankle.

 You do not give him a chance to gather himself, and you swing again at him, this time using his shoulder to propel yourself around him and using his weight and yours, you are able to lock his head with your legs. Just as you are about to go for another twist to bring him to the ground, Tobirama counters by catching you and launching you off of him. 

 “You fight like an assassin,” Tobirama says as you roll to the ground and to your feet. 

“Are you impressed?” You grin at him, half jokingly. 

 Tobirama does not answer you, but it looks like he is about to say something worse as he charges at you. 

You step closer to him so that he does not follow through his movement, and you grab the hilt of his sword and then you strike your palm at his chest to send him back. You whirl around to brandish his sword in the air. 

 What was one of his rules? You suddenly remember.

  Do not touch my things, unless I give them to you. 

For a moment, everyone freezes. 

You study the blade in your hand. 

 “This is a very nice sword,” you muse, and you strike at the air and flip it, testing the weight. You run a finger on the blunt edge of his sword. “Well-balanced and thin, but very sharp. Excellent for accurate and fast hits...and conducting lightning.”

Tobirama’s face grows stormy. His fists tighten. 

 You twist blade with a slight twist of your wrist, and you hand it with the hilt towards him. “Sorry. I was curious.” 

Tobirama takes his sword and quickly sheathes it. You note a minuscule change in his expression, but it quickly passes and you are disappointed for not being quick enough to note it. 

“So, is this a tie?” Koharu asks, uncertain. 

“Yes,” Tobirama grits through his teeth. 

You watch Tobirama’s tense shoulders and decide to leave him alone. You probably went too far today. 

“Well, that was fun, but I have to go,” you say, even though the rest of your day is pretty much free. "I have some friends to meet." 

 Tobirama suspects that you certainly do not have any friends to meet, but he does not say anything more. He’s probably eager to make you go. There is nothing he would want more. 

“Aw!” Hiruzen cries out. His nose bleed has stopped. “Thanks for coming by, sensei!” 

You wink at the kids, and you make your exit, your hand still remembering the feel of Tobirama’s sword. It is oddly familiar, and you wonder if the craftsmanship is similar to your own blade. 

You can feel Tobirama’s stare behind you and it burns the back of your neck as if he is shooting laser beams at you, and just when you glance back to regard it, he is turning away and conversing with his students about hand seals. 

Though it was just a joke and a way to catch him by surprise, you can’t help but feel that you just stomped over the thin olive branch that he was handing out to you. 

You note to yourself to make it up to him tomorrow. 

.

.

.

[CHAPTER THREE >>>]

[theodora3022]

Freaking Me Out

Pairing: Neito Monoma x F!reader (I’m not really good at this kind of stuff…)

Summary: What scares Neito Monoma more than death, is his irrational attraction to you. He was able to hide it behind his petty insults often, until one day he saw you injured, something in the blonde snapped.

Notes: Reader is a student in 1A. If you do not like it, the exit button is there for you. Otherwise, enjoy! I honeslty don’t like how this turns out, but there you have it.

Warning: Verbal abuse (It is Monoma come on, what’s the surprise), superiority complex (obviously), fluff?Insults?

“Now I hear sounds in the hallway,

rocking chairs are moving on their own,

I’m falling for you, so much so

It’s freaking me out.”

           You’re a student of class 1A, that is a good enough reason for Neito to pick on you. Even though you have always been polite and friendly. His distain is towards 1A in general, you just got caught up in the wave.

           He might still act like a bully towards you, but that doesn’t mean he hates you, in fact, he found you quite charming, it almost made him want to stop with his verbal abuses. Almost.

           Ironic enough, Neito has a soft spot for sociable people. Most people would be appalled with his rude attitude, which is what he expected. But he never got any reaction out of you with the usual insults. You brush them off as if they were nothing and kept that friendly façade, keep treating him with kindness. You are too nice, abnormally so.

           Neito is curious, what could make you lose your composure? You are always so calm and collected, it’s honestly irritating. How can he rip off that smiling mask off your face and see who you really are? Class 1A is full of idiots, so why are you any different. The way you act all welcoming, it’s all fake right? Inside, you must be just like those egotistic maniacs you called friends. Nothing had drawn the blonde’s attention this much in a long time, so when he caught a glimpse of your backside, walking towards the library, Neito followed.

           You had a terrible day, you got a bad mark on a recent test, accidently slipped on a banana skin, and landed sideways. It’s only a minor injury, so you didn’t bother to visit the Nurse’s office.(They must have more pressing injuries to deal with then a small cut) Now you got a bandage on the left side of your chin. So, you decide to treat yourself some quality time to relax in the library, surely nothing worse can happen in that calming atmosphere?

           Oh, how naïve you are.

           Coincidentally, it happened to be a bad day for Neito too. What’s his favorite pastime these days? Read Franco-Belgian comics Make fun of someone he doesn’t like. You’re just sitting there, concentrated on a history book, as if inviting his insults. The library is nearly empty, and the table you’re sitting at is behind some shelves, far away from the Liberian’s prying eyes. Perfect.

           Inviting himself to your table, Neito sits down across you with that arrogant smirk on his face. Then he starts to examine you. Oh, how adorable you look, so focused. Suddenly the book makes him feel jealous, how pathetic of him. He really got it bad. He wonders what you’re going to look like all angry, finally letting out your true self.

“What you’re reading there, (y/n)?”

           You are now scowling; obviously not too happy he had interrupted your reading. “Good afternoon to you too, Monoma. Has anyone told you it’s rude to interrupt?” You were hoping to ignore him, that he would leave on his own. Well, that’s evidently not happening.

           She seems annoyed. Never seen that before, interesting. Then Neito notices the small bandage on the side of your chin. It’s clearly not properly treated, as he can see blood leaking from its edges.

           “You’re hurt?” That smirk is gone…Is that concerns you see on his face? You never imagined someone like him is capable of such compassion. “Oh this? I tripped and I cut it. No big deal though.” Avoiding his caring gaze, you’re starting to feel uncomfortable. He is acting so…nice? Who is he and what has he done with the real Neito Monoma?

           No big deal? If it is not cleansed and closed properly, it could very well leave a scar on your flawless face! Monoma doesn’t know why this bothers him this much, what he does know is you need to get proper medical attention immediately. “None sense. Come, that’s get you to recovery girl.”

           “I’m fine, really. Hey, let go of me, Monoma!” He took your left hand into his without permission? What the hell? The next thing you know he is dragging you out of the library.

           “If you don’t want to cause a spectacle in the hallways, better stop being a brat and shut your trap.” Ah, there it is. The normal insults of Neito Monoma. You silenced yourself, nevertheless. Thankfully, it’s afterschool, so no one is in the hallways. You can just picture how rumors were going to spread if someone sees you and Monoma “holding hands” like this.

           The Recovery girl is busy with someone’s training injury. Much to your surprise, after taking some antibiotics ointment and a couple of cotton swabs, he decides to tend to your wound himself.

           Slim fingers carefully peeling the bandage off, the blonde’s brows knotted when you let out a hiss of pain. “It might hurt now, but it’s going to scar if you just leave it like this.” He is so focus on cleansing your cut that he missed your shock. After making sure the wound is hygienic, Neito starts applying the ointment with such attentiveness, making sure no corners are missed. His eyes are filled with worries, instead of the usual condescending attitude. It all looks too good to be real, so you stay quiet.

           Neito used to be quite clumsy as a child, so he learned how to tend to minor wounds such as yours. Fortunately, your cut is not deep or long, with the correct care it would heal in no time.

           It was not until he finishes up, after putting a new bandage over your treated wound, that Neito realizes what he has done. Not only he had literally dragged you here, but also tended your wound himself! If he does not know better, he would say he genuinely care for you. Biting his lower lip, the Blonde’s head start to spin, to think how he can excuse himself out of this awkward situation.

           “Neito?” You are calling him by his first name now? That is new. Not that he hates it.

           Then you just look at him with those innocent eyes, those beautiful eyes. And those lips, they look so tasty, he would not mind a tast-

           Wait, where did all those obscene thoughts come from?

           You two are standing in an empty hallway beside the nurse’s office, staring at each other in silence. “Thank you for that, Neito. I really appreciate your help. I wouldn’t want to have a scar.” Is that all you have to say? Normally that would be enough, but for Monoma?

           “You got two options, (y/n). One, just walk away, pretend this never happened and carry on with your normal life.” He paces towards you, you realized how he had backed you into a corner. He is close, too close-you can feel his breaths gently brushes your cheeks. Up close, you noticed he is actually quite handsome, with that well-trimmed blonde hair and those crystal blue eyes. If he were not such a jerk, he would have been quite a charmer. Wait…is he trembling?

           “What’s the other option?” You asked that out of pure curiosity. Childish, you know, but you cannot help but be amused at the blonde’s shacking form. It is not everyday you get to see so terrified and flustered, a major blush across those usually pale cheeks. A rare but delightful sight.

           Don’t you get those hints? Your innocence, while cute, is driving Neito crazy. He is so done with playing subtle. Let his knuckles brush against the uninjured side of your face, touches so soft that can be mistaken as lover’s.

           “Or” He whispers near your ear, almost towering over you; “You can show me how thankful you are for my care. I been thinking about kissing you for a while, you know.” He is buffing. Neito is screaming in his head, praying that you reciprocate his feelings. It is the least you can do after making him swoon over you for so long.

           How dare you! How dare you making him feel attached? Like you are the only thing he wants in this world? Who gives you the right to make him obsess over you?

           Neito is scared, terrified, even. This had never happened before. Due to his handsome appearance, there had been girls interested him before, but they all backed away once they learned about his personality.

           You were too astounded to move. Neito Monoma, the infamous rude prick from Class 1B, has feelings for you? Someone pinch you on the arm, to make sure this was not just some lewd dream. “What, so shocked that you can’t even speak?” Forcing your chin up with his thumb and index fingers (but still careful not to touch your wound), his face begins to lean close. You shut your eyes, half-hoping for it to happen.

           But you only felt a quick peck on your cheek. Of course he would not steal your first kiss here. Neito would want to make it a moment he could treasure forever, after a date. Not in this little dark hallway.

           “You, me, tomorrow at noon, in front of the gate.” Then he left without saying a word, almost stumbling. Only his faint cologne still lingering around you, reminding this is all real.

[followyoursecretsmutblog]

the lies you tell IV.

Summary: You and Henry dated for 2 very happy years, when it all came crumbling down. Protection was the only thing on your mind. And now, 3 years later, on a lunch with a common friend, you are hit with the lies you told.

the lies you tell. the lies you tell II. the lies you tell III.

“Chris, are you fucking kidding me? You just find out that I dated someone, and that he was just in my home. And you set me up with someone? Are you out of you fucking mind?” I shout, pulling my hair.

This man cannot possibly be this dim!

“Ava, you said it yourself. You guys can’t be together. You are one of my best friends, I can’t just stand by and see you slowly killing yourself because you are too scared to look for love again.” 

“I’m not scared.” I mumble, folding my arms across my chest.

“Yes, you are. Or you would have already dated other men. Or women.” I shoot him a glare, he holds his hands up in fake surrender. 

“There is no one else I want. Henry is all I want.” I say, my voice cracking, arms falling to my side.

“Don’t take this personally babe, but if he wanted you, he would have fixed the problem as soon as you told him what it was.” Chris points out. 

I look down, not able to meet his gaze. “But, I love him.”

I hear movement, and arms wrap around me. “I know. But sometimes love isn’t enough.” Chris whispers, kissing the top of my head. 

I burry my face into his chest, his shirt soaking in my tears. He just holds me, as if he is keeping me from falling completely apart.

Pulling away, I look at him with tear stained cheeks, red eyes and a runny nose, “Do I still have to go on this date?”

Chris chuckles, pushing my hair from my face, “Yes. You aren’t getting out of it.”

“I hate you so much.” I groan, hitting my forehead against his hard chest.

“I love you, too, Ava.” With one last kiss on my head, he spins me around and shoves me toward my room, slapping my ass.

~~

“Who is this dinner with?” I ask, smoothing my hands over my dress, check myself out in the mirror.

I look good. Well, as good as I can.

“It’s a surprise.” Chris replies, poking his head into the bathroom, looking at me. “You look beautiful.”

A smile blush covers my cheeks and I smile at him in return. 

“Everything will be fine, I promise. He isn’t some crazy person who is going to kidnap and kill you. He’s a friend of mine. I think you even met him once.” He explains as you two walk out of your apartment and to his car. “Sweet guy. Totally awkward around pretty girls.” He chuckles.

I turn to face him, stopping dead in my tracks. “What have you told him about me?!” I shriek, eyes wide. 

“That you are helplessly in love with someone and in need of a good night out.” He looks me dead in the eye. “And then some.” Wiggling eyebrows included.

I don’t know what my face was doing, but Chris’ response to it was hysterical laughter.

“I hate you with everything in me right now.” I huff, stalking toward his car once more.

“Come on, Ava! I told him nothing but good things. I swear!” He laughs as he follows behind me, unlocking the door and opening it.

“The date isn’t with you is it?” 

“First, why do you say that with such distaste? I’m wounded, honestly. Second, no. I will not be there. I am only an escort.” I slide into the seat, adjusting myself comfortably.

“I will kill you. I promise.” I grumble as he slides into the driver’s side and starts the engine.

“I would like to see you try.” He chuckles as he pulls away from the carpark.

The time spent driving goes fast. We talk about new projects, vacations and the upcoming holidays. 

“You know you are more than welcome to come home with me. My family loves you.” 

“I actually think I’m going to go home this year. I miss my family, I haven’t seen them properly since I left.” A sad smile falls on my lips at the thought of when I last saw them. Mum and dad were so supportive of me leaving, thinking it would be best if I were to leave London and start fresh. “But thank you, I know I will have a place in your home and that means everything to me.”

Chris just smiles as he changes lanes. “You are always welcome.” There is a beat of silence. “It’s right up here. Having any second thoughts?”

“Yes.” I answer honestly, “But you are right, I need to get out and try something new.”

“Everything will be fine. Just let loose and be yourself.” He pulls up to the curb, signaling to the attendant to hold on for a moment. “The reservation is under my name.”

“Okay. Thank you, Chris.”

 “Ava.” His voice sounding a bit strange, I look up and meet his eyes. “If for any reason you feel uncomfortable, or want to leave you call me, okay? I’ll come back and get you. Okay?” 

“I will. I promise.” I give him a smile and lean over to kiss his cheek. “You are an amazing friend, thank you.” He nods and my door opens.

I step out to Chris calling out the window, “Use protection!” I just flip him off, my smile never faltering. 

The restaurant is nice, a little to posh for my liking, but nice none the less.

“Hello, Miss, can I help you?” The woman at the hostess stand asks.

“Yes, I’m under the Evans reservation. Chris Evans.” I say softly, trying not to bring attention to myself. 

Damn having famous friends.

“Ah! Yes, your other guest had arrived just before you. Please follow me.” With a fake smile and swaying hips, she leads me deep into the heart of the room. 

There are so many people here, some that I recognize from tv and magazines.

“I ordered the 1957, not the 1959!” An older gentleman hollers, causing the poor waiter to tremble slightly.

Ohhhkaaayyyyy, a little too rich for my blood.

I turn my attention back to the hostess as she makes a left turn into a nicely lit corner. “Here you are ma’am. Enjoy your dinner.” She says, gesturing toward a table with a candle in the center.

I let out a small thank you and walk closer, trying to see who the man was before he saw me. But he is facing the window, watching everything pass by in a blur.

Come on, Ava. You are a big girl, you can do this. If anything, it’s just one night. Breathe in and out.

I close my eyes for a second, take a deep breath, and open them back up, taking the final step toward the table.

“Hello, I’m Ava.” I say sweetly, my accent making the ‘Hello’ come out as ‘’Ello’. 

He turns his head, a nervous smile on his face. 

I can’t help but giggle at him, “If it wasn’t Chris, of course it would be you.” Shaking my head, he stands up.

“You know how he is. Like a dog with a bone.” He chuckles, kissing my cheek.

“He’s a child, and we both know it.” I kiss his cheek in return.

With a nod, he pulls away to pull my chair out. Once I sit, he tucks me in and takes his own seat.

“Are you disappointed?” He asks, taking a drink.

“No, of course not. I honestly didn’t know who to expect. But I am happy to see a friendly face.” I look up, meeting the bright blue eyes of Sebastian Stan.

“Chris said this would be your first time out in a while.”

“I am going to kill him.” I roll my eyes as he laughs.

“You know he means well.”

“I could sell him on the black market. Get a pretty penny for him.” I muse as the waiter brings me a glass of wine. “He is very sweet, but sometimes he needs to know he can’t fix everyone’s problems.”

“That won’t stop him from trying.”

We watch the waiter leave after we order, as if we are children waiting for the adults to leave before running amuck. 

I turn back to him, his dark hair and blue eyes reminding me of someone else.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sebastian asks, settling back in his chair.

“About what?”

“Chris asked me to this dinner for you because he knew I was safe. I’m friends with him, and every time we are together we get along. But, I see that every time you look at me, a piece of you isn’t for this.” He answers honestly.

“Seb, I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to be here. You are a great person, and I care for you deeply. I just...” I trail off, looking out the window. 

Breathe.

I turn back to him, seeing no judgment in his eyes. “I haven’t gone out on a proper date in years. I dated a guy and now it’s over. First heartbreak sucks.” I laugh at myself, downing half of my glass.

“I get it. So, why don’t we do this.” He sits forward, arms on the table. I watch him, a sneaky smile playing on his lips. “Fuck the idea of this ‘date’, why don’t we just eat, drink a few beers and talk about whatever we want?”

A genuine smile comes from me, “That sounds perfect.”

“Good.” He nods his head, motions for the waiter. “Two beers please.” And turns back to me. “Now, wanna play twenty questions?”

~~

“I swear to you, he did!” Sebastian says as I laugh so hard my stomach hurts.

“There is no way! You have got to be lying!” My sides hurt, I have no idea how I am standing up right. “I know he is a free spirt, but to go skinny dipping? In the middle of winter with all his cast mates? He wouldn’t.”

“I have proof.” I look at him, eyes wide.

“No.” I lean against the wall outside my apartment door, a hand over my heart. 

“I do.” He fishes his phone from his pocket, trying to find the video.

“You have a video of Chris. Naked. On your phone?” I wheeze, tears falling.

He stops scrolling, looks at me and nods. “Of course, I do, he’s my friend.” As if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Here it is!” Turning the screen to face me, I watch my drunken friend get undressed and decides to go for a swim.

“He is an absolute nut-case!” I lay my head on Sebastian’s shoulder, both our bodies shaking from laughter. 

“I was lucky to get it on camera! I was actually trying to get me singing, but this was way better!” He howls.

We stand there for a moment, one of his arms loosely wrapped around me and my head on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Sebastian. Tonight, was wonderful. Better then I could have imagined.” I say as I pull away. 

“Of course. I enjoyed tonight as well.” 

“Maybe we can do it again?” I ask, uncertain if he would even want to.

Why would he? I already told him I am emotionally unavailable. He can do so much better.

“I would like that. It was nice getting to know you. Maybe next time it can be more casual.”

“Yeah, not a huge fan of lavish things.” I giggle.

“I’ll call you.” He smiles, leaning down and kisses my cheek. “Until next time, Ava.”

“I look forward to it.” I put my key in my lock and turn, watching him at the elevator doors close.

I sigh as I push the door open. Tonight wasn’t bad at all. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. 

I close the door and kick my shoes off as my phone rings.

Chris.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” I answer.

“I just wanted to make sure you made it home safely.” He defends.

“I did, thank you. Sebastian was nice enough to walk me to my door.” I pick my shoes up and walk to my room.

“That’s good. How was it?” 

“It was fine. We decided to just hangout instead of making it a big deal.” Tossing my shoes in my closet, I start on unzipping my dress. 

“Well I’m glad. I knew he was a good choice!” Chris laughs, I can hear Dodger barking in the background.

“Yes, yes. Seb was a good choice.” My straps fall down my arms, “At least you picked someone I had something in common with.” 

I turn around, dress falling to the ground, phone slipping and landing with a sharp crack as a small scream falls from my lips.

“Ava? Ava! Are you there? Answer me!” Chris shouts, his voice getting increasingly louder and more aggressive. When I don’t answer, he curses, “Fuck it, I’m on my way!”

I don’t move, my body trembling at the man sitting in my desk chair. I open and close my mouth, trying to say something, but nothing comes out.

The man stands up and take a step toward me.

Tag-list: @thiccgeralt - @mary-ann84- @omgkatinka - @suueeeeeee - @hell1129-blog​

A/N: Can you tell I’m a whore for dark haired men with blue eyes?

Also, feedback is greatly appreciated! 

[halothenthehorns]

THE INVITATION

Sirius sighed with complete distaste as he began. They were already off to a terrible start with all this Voldemort and the traitor talk, now he got the misfortune of getting the chapter that would most likely turn him into a murderous fool all over again at what these Dursley's had been up to involving his pup.

Harry went into the kitchen to find the Dursley's already present, Petunia cutting something up while Dudley sat in a chair pouting, his sulking face somehow taking up more space than usual.

"A feat I hadn't thought possible," James snorted.

This was saying something, as he always took up an entire side of the square table by himself. When his mother put a quarter of unsweetened grapefruit

Remus may have felt pity for anyone else, having to eat unsweetened anything, but found that this was probably the best form of torture that could be inflicted on these Dursley's, and it was self-inflicted, so he had no qualms.

in front of him with a wavering smile, Dudley's glare only intensified upon her. His life, for the first time ever, was not going his way. He'd come home with his end of year school report, and as always Petunia and Vernon found ways to get around most of the comments, such as his failing grades,

Lily made a scathing noise, vividly remembering how both her's and Petunia's marks had been carefully monitored and if not up to their parents standards they'd at least have a talking to, but compared to what all she'd heard she wouldn't be surprised if Dudley flunked every class and Petunia didn't bat an eye.

  which was brushed aside by Petunia saying his teachers just didn't understand him.

"Yes, every single teacher at that school misunderstands him; not one of them could grasp, at this elite school they've sent Dudley to, how to teach him," James snorted.

"I don't think Merlin could have taught this fool how to count," Sirius smirked.

Then there were the reports of bullying, which Petunia claimed were all false as she knew her baby couldn't hurt a fly.

Harry in particular gave an eye roll at that exaggeration, as he had the childhood marks to prove otherwise.

What neither of them could explain away though, was the final comment. Even though Petunia claimed Dudley was just big-boned,

"No, Hagrid has big bones," Remus enunciated as if the idiots were present. "That child has more fat than bone."

and that he was a growing boy who needed plenty of food,

"I, really am stumped at just how blind, or stupid she is," Sirius shook his head at how pathetic this kept getting.

the school simply just didn't make pants in Dudley's size anymore, as he was approximately the same weight as a baby orca.

"I really cannot picture that, that's just terrible." Lily's frown kept deepening. Even if she didn't like Dudley, it was because of his parents he was this way. It was made all the worse that it mainly seemed to be Petunia's fault he got like this, though Vernon certainly wasn't stepping in to stop anything.

No matter the fuss Dudley kicked up in protest, which involved the walls of Harry's bedroom shaking from all of the shouting,

"Considering how he reacted when Harry got his second bedroom, I think we should be grateful shouting seems to have been it," James huffed.

"At least there wasn't a turtle thrown this time, I seem to recall that," Sirius nodded in agreement.

"I'm also fairly certain it was mentioned he kicked one of his parents, so I'm with you on this," Lily grumbled.

the diet had begun. The school had sent home a sheet for Dudley to follow, filled with a proper nutrition diet. Petunia had decided that if Dudley was to follow this, the whole family was to as well.

"Wait, what?" Lily yelped, turning concerned eyes on her already malnourished son while he was at that house. "They were on the verge of starving you before, now you're only getting how much?"

Harry though had a new kind of smirk on his face, not one the others saw too often, which only made the boys more excited and happy as he said, "Don't worry, I don't follow it."

Lily did not look encouraged, but James was definitely more eager now to find out how Harry got around this.

At that time she passed a grapefruit quarter to Harry. He noticed that it was a lot smaller than Dudley's.

"Are you kidding me?" Sirius frowned. "You had to be the skinniest one at that table, but you still somehow got less food than Dudley?"

Harry gave an absent shrug, well aware of Petunia's view that if Harry suffered just that little more than Dudley it was somehow okay.

Petunia seemed to feel that the best way to keep up Dudley's morale was to make sure that he did, at least, get more to eat than Harry.

"No! No that is not how that works, you foul horrible excuse for a person!" Lily seethed. "One boy should not have to suffer to make the other feel better! Merlin Petunia, is that why you went out of your way to try and ruin my life growing up?" Lily went on a tangent for a few more minutes before she finally ran out of steam. There was a lot more colorful and violent things tossed in there, which left the boys shrinking back in genuine fright, even if they did agree. She'd clearly been wanting to say all of that for quite some time, and just seemed to have finally found her perfect opportunity. It was quite the opposite reaction she'd had from back in the first book when Petunia had called her sister a freak when Hagrid had arrived, all of this had probably been building since then. She finally came to a stop taking deep and slow breaths, then looked around half ashamed as she muttered, "Sorry, didn't mean to take that out on you lot."

James relaxed when he realized the worst was over and placed a gentle arm around her, saying, "Nah, best to get it all out. Want to start in on anyone else?"

"It might just be you if you don't keep reading," Lily returned, trying for a normal smile.

James wasn't actually sure if she was kidding or not, so he decided it was best not to test her.

What Petunia, or any of the Dursley's, didn't know though, was that Harry wasn't following this diet at all. The moment he'd caught wind of living off of lettuce all summer, he'd sent pleading notes to his friends.

"Really, really would have liked to read those," Remus frowned, wondering how on earth Harry could've phrased this so it wouldn't be so alarming that at least the Weasley's would have said something to Dumbledore. Harry was asking his friends to send him food, how on earth could that be considered normal? Shouldn't someone have come and checked on him because of that?

The others were thinking the exact same thing, but as always when they looked expectantly at Harry like they wanted him to elaborate, he ignored everyone's eye and instead looked pleadingly to the book like he was hoping it would read itself to get him out of this. Sirius was feeling pretty confident by now that if he confronted Harry he could probably whittle enough he might really tell him now. James, on the other hand, clearly wasn't as he recognized his son still didn't want to talk about this and not wanting to force it out of him kept going.

Each had complied, first Hermione by sending Harry some sugar free snacks, courtesy of her dentist parents.

"I don't think Harry phrased it the way we were thinking if all he's going to get in return is snacks," Lily sighed, starting to feel a little fidgety again. She really didn't want to spend any time on the thought that her son was only living on tiny snacks and carrot sticks, definitely not the proper nutrition a growing boy needed.

Then Hagrid had sent over some rock cakes for him.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure Harry's still in the starving category with that," Sirius muttered.

Which Harry hadn't been able to eat or do anything with, as he was well aware of Hagrid's poor culinary skill,

'Honestly making me wonder why you wrote to tell Hagrid at all,' Remus couldn't help but think, but held that one in.

Ron's mother though, sent Harry a cart load of food with their aging owl, including several meat pies and fruitcakes.

James couldn't help a little snort of surprise. He could just imagine Ron receiving his letter from Harry asking if he could be sent a snack or something, and this was Molly's response? What would she do if she knew the full extent of Harry's stay there? He was actually hoping to hear about this now.

Then when Harry's birthday had arrived, which the Dursley's had ignored as usual,

Was it more sad that they weren't surprised anymore, or that it still bothered them just as much as the first time to hear that? Just the fact that they continually, no matter what, kept doing their very best to leave Harry at his worst left them with the desire to strangle the lot of them every time!

he'd received a cake from each friend, plus Sirius.

James lost it. He was reduced into almost hysterical laughter as he tried to imagine Sirius filching a cake from a bakery to send to Harry, or even better, trying to break into someone's house just to pull this off. Of all the things for him to be doing while on the run! Sirius wasn't a particularly good cook, he'd never had to learn, so the idea was made all the more laughable if the second were true and Sirius went through a few trials before he'd mailed a cake off to Harry with one of those tropical birds!

"Oh come on," Lily wheezed not looking much better herself. "I think it's sweet."

"Thank you Lily," Sirius said with a snooty voice. He was proud of himself for considering something like this, he more than owed it to Harry.

Remus was the only one who couldn't bring himself to even muster up a smile, hunkering down in his seat and deciding this was the final straw, he officially had completely forgotten about Harry.

He must have decided when he left Hogwarts he was just leaving everything. Maybe he was just busy, searching down that traitor and not even realizing the passing time, but it still didn't sit right with him he'd completely phased back out of Harry's life without any mention. He didn't think the others noticed, he certainly hoped they wouldn't as he had no way to explain himself.

Harry still had two of them left,

"I still can't say I'm happy with this," Lily really did settle back down with a crinkled nose. "They'd surely go stale, and you don't need to be living off of just cake any more than carrot sticks."

"Better than no food at all," Sirius grumbled, which Lily acknowledged.

and so looking forward to a much better breakfast, Harry picked up his spoon to begin eating while Petunia passed Vernon his own slice. When he saw this he muttered if this was it, and Petunia merely shot a look at a sulking Dudley who had already wolfed down his own. Before Vernon could start in on his, there was a knock at the door, and Vernon got up to answer it. The moment he was out of sight and his mother wasn't watching, Dudley had snatched the fruit away and downed it as well.

"He's probably going to get in trouble for that, and I still don't care." James rolled his eyes.

Harry could hear muffled voices talking, then the sound of ripping paper. Before anyone could wonder on it, Vernon reappeared, his gaze landing on Harry, the expression already unpleasant as he snarled at him to get into the living room.

All five of them either groaned or sighed, either for the 'you' comment or because Harry had just woken up, what could he be blamed for already?

Harry followed him in and sat down on the couch as Vernon marched in front of him, having the pose of a man about to announce his being arrested,

"He wishes." Harry muttered.

and began by saying 'so.'

"So what?" Sirius snapped.

Harry's first instinct was to reply, 'so what'

"And you actually restrained yourself?" James cocked a brow in surprise. "I am impressed."

but decided not to press Vernon's temper.

Lily's eyes narrowed with furious curiosity, pondering at the phrasing of that as she didn't like to think of that man's temper at all.

So he instead waited silently as Vernon continued by telling Harry Vernon had received a letter, concerning Harry.

"Who'd be writing to you through Muggle mail?" Remus asked, distracted from his own self-pity for now to think on this.

"Search me," Harry shrugged, now mimicking the expression of puzzled.

Harry was confused at once, as he had no idea who it could be from. Vernon flipped open the letter and began reading, saying it was from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and how they must have heard about them already through Harry.

"Ah, so it's from one of Ron's parents," Lily stated, though this still managed to increase their confusion. Why would they be writing to the Dursley's like this? A few interesting things came to mind, but it didn't seem the Weasley's type.

"And a big no to that by the way," Sirius muttered in reference to the actual letter, as he was well aware Harry wouldn't go talking to the Dursley's about needing new socks, let alone chatting about his friends.

The letter then went on to say that Arthur Weasley had procured tickets for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup,

James couldn't help a little squeal as he read that. Prime tickets! His son was going to see the World Cup in person! While he would never not be agitated at the very existence of the Dursley's, at least this was something good he could latch onto.

and she was writing to them hoping that Harry could come stay with them for the rest of the summer while he attended. She asked that Harry would respond with an answer in the normal way, as she wasn't sure the postman knew where they lived.

"I'm going with probably not," Remus smiled warmly, thinking that most muggle posts wouldn't be able to find a wizard village.

She added on at the end by signing her name as Molly Weasley, and adding a postscript that she hoped there were enough stamps on the letter.

"What does she mean enough?" Lily asked, already a smile creeping onto her face at this prospect.

In response to that, Vernon pulled the envelope out of his pocket and flashed it at Harry, who had to fight down the urge to laugh at the sight of it.

"Really, I don't know how you pull that off," Sirius said eagerly.

Every bit of it was covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front, into which Mrs. Weasley had squeezed the Dursley's address in minute writing.

Only James was left frowning in mild confusion as he read that, but he didn't have to really ask as the others burst into laughter, he could guess that perhaps she had put too many stamps on, though he found it an honest enough mistake as he wasn't even sure why Muggles would put stamps on their mail.

Lily smiled indulgently as she approved, "I give her credit for asking like that and trying to be polite, even enough to do it the Muggle way."

"At least somebody appreciates it," Remus nodded in agreement, knowing Vernon wouldn't feel the same.

Harry responded that she had put enough stamps on it then, in a tone implying Mrs. Weasley's was a common enough mistake.

"Because it was," James snorted, much to the amusement of everyone else who nearly started cracking up again at the realization he would have done the exact same thing.

Vernon's eyes flashed as he snapped that the mailman had noticed.

"Be a little more worried if he didn't," Sirius mocked.

That's why he had knocked on the door, he'd thought it was funny.

"Well how dare he," Remus sneered.

Harry chose not to respond. Anyone else would be confused at Vernon's reaction,

"Damn near wish I was," Lily hissed, still wanting more than anything to have never come across this name.

but Harry was well aware how much the Dursley's hated anything that was even slightly out of the norm. Their worst fear was that anyone would know they were in contact with people like the Weasley's.

"Then they're in for a very nasty surprise." James grinned, though it had something lingering that made it very obvious this wasn't meant to be pleasant.

Vernon was still glaring at Harry like he expected a response. Harry knew he had to play this very carefully, if he did he'd be in for a real treat. Harry broke the silence first,

"Pretty sure that's because stringing words together is too complicated for his pea brain," Sirius muttered.

and simply asked if he could go. Vernon's face twitched, and Harry had a very good idea what was running through his mind, as Vernon's two fundamental rules came into play. Letting Harry go would make him happy, something Vernon strived against.

"I think I've successfully called him everything under the sun at this point," Remus groused, "and it's still not enough to cover how wrong that is."

On the flip side, letting Harry go would get him away from them that much sooner, as Vernon hated having Harry in the house.

"I hate having him in that house too," Lily snapped.

Instead of answering he began skimming over the letter again, asking who it was from with great disgust.

"I'm not surprised he automatically despises anyone who'd be writing to Harry," James sighed.

Harry reminded that Vernon had seen her before, she was at the platform from Hog- then he quickly cut himself off and rephrased, from his school.

It really bothered Sirius that Harry still couldn't speak freely in that house, like he was conditioned even before he knew Sirius would back him up now. Harry must know that Vernon couldn't do anything to Harry now no matter what he said, or Sirius would apparate there faster than Vernon's eyes could flash. He glanced at his godson now to see he looked just as sheepish and closed off as he always did whenever his life at the Dursley's was ever brought up.

Harry knew better than to go saying Hogwarts, as the name of his school was forbidden from being spoken in this house. Vernon's face screwed up as he tried to recall this, asking if she was the dumpy woman.

"Dumpy!" Lily yelped in outrage. She knew for a fact that Vernon had no right to be tossing that word around to anyone when his son's fat arse couldn't fit into a recognized sizeable pair of pants!

"That was a low blow, even from him," Sirius snarled, while the other three boys said something equal, Harry loudest of all. He may have held his tongue while in the face of Vernon, but he couldn't stand anyone saying that kind of thing about the woman who'd been so kind to him with no reason to.

Harry frowned reproachfully at Vernon, finding it rich of Vernon to be calling anyone dumpy when his own son was wider than he was tall.

The lot of them were still so angry they didn't even take the chance to laugh at the expense of Dudley again.

Vernon clearly didn't notice as he went back to the letter, and asked what rubbish Quidditch was.

"As if I didn't hate him enough already," James blustered.

Harry felt another shot of annoyance as he began to explain it was a sport played on broom- but Vernon cut him off with a yelp, clearly unable to stand hearing the word broomstick.

"Really? That word is too much for him?" Remus frowned, more confused than anything on this one. "What does he call the broom he uses to clean the kitchen?"

"Probably his wife's second husband," Sirius muttered under his breath.

He instead went back to the letter, and asked how Harry should respond 'in the normal way?' Harry explained she meant normal for wizards, using owl post.

Sirius began bouncing in place and laughing again all at once, more than happy to hear Harry had seemed to brush right past his earlier problem and was saying whatever the bloody hell he wanted to now. If Vernon did anything about it, Harry could just bring up his name and this good for nothing caretaker of Harry's would back down at once!

Vernon looked furious as if Harry had just started cussing at him. His eyes flickered to the window, like he expected someone to be there with their ear pressed to the glass.

"You mean they don't?" Lily mock demanded. "They're missing out on some golden opportunities."

He began shouting at Harry for mentioning that unnaturalness under his roof!

"You're calling my son unnatural?!" James demanded. "I've met saner people then you at Sirius' house."

Sirius cocked his head to the side like he was considering that, before nodding and saying, "Yeah, I'll give you that one."

His face began changing colors along with his outrage as he snapped that Harry was being ungrateful, lounging around in the clothes he'd put on his back!

"They aren't even Harry's!" Remus snapped.

Harry snapped back only after Dudley was through with them. Harry was currently wearing a sweater so large he had to roll the sleeves back five times, and pants so big he had to use every last notch of his belt to keep them in place.

Lily groaned into her hands, hating to think of her baby being forced to dress in something like that when those same people bought their own son whatever, whenever he asked.

Vernon roared back he wouldn't tolerate Harry speaking to him like that!

"Oh yes you will." Sirius shot back dangerously, looking pretty close to the same description. He couldn't stand just sitting here while Harry had to take this, and he should have been able to step in and say something rather than not even being in the picture!

Harry stood his ground though, he wasn't going to take any of the Dursley's stupid rules anymore.

"Least Harry's really fighting back now," James said with genuine praise. He still feared retribution from them, they were older than Harry and could still get away with something before Harry got a chance to make a run for it, but Harry wasn't ten years old anymore either. By this age he'd definitely had enough in him to at least scare them enough he could make a run for it again like he had last year if this conversation went too bad. He realized how sad this was to think about, that Harry couldn't hold one conversation with this man, and already James was fearing the worst and half hoping his son really would bolt again.

Harry was not going to eat that stupid diet, and he was going to the Quidditch World Cup. Since he wouldn't win by just shouting that though, Harry instead redirected by asking if he could be excused, he had a letter he needed to write to Sirius, his godfather.

"Ah the magic words," Remus beamed, knowing if this reminder didn't put Vernon in his place nothing would.

Harry watched with satisfaction as Vernon's face went from red fueled rage to blotchy white like sour ice-cream.

"Fascinating description as always dear," Lily gave a soft giggle, even as stressed as her husband she couldn't overlook that.

He rasped out that Harry kept in contact with him? Harry was pleased to see his eyes were now dilating in fear.

"As they should," James sneered.

"I don't know, I'm still a little offended it wasn't worse," Sirius gave a mock pout. "Think I'm losing my touch? My name should at least cause him the runs."

"Why don't you go fake murder a few more people?" Remus offered. "I'm sure that'll do it."

"That's a great idea," Sirius beamed, though there was a glint in his dark eyes showing he wasn't kidding anymore. "I know just where to start."

James gave an appreciative laugh while Harry eyed Sirius again, always unsure and at least half hoping they really didn't mean those jokes.

Harry shrugged like this was obvious, saying of course he did, all the time. Sirius liked him to keep in touch, to make sure nothing was wrong. Harry paused then and watched the pieces fall into place in Vernon's head as he realized that if he tried to stop Harry writing to his Godfather, Sirius would think Harry was mistreated. If Harry wrote and told that he couldn't go to the Cup, Sirius would know Harry was being mistreated.

"Least he can work that out." Lily shrugged. "Now I'm just wondering how hard it would be for him to understand the concept of feeding you."

"One step at a time," Harry shrugged, more than happy to point out, "and since I'm leaving now, it's no longer a problem anymore."

"Still wish you'd mentioned something to me in the first place," Sirius grumbled.

Harry pursed his lips, knowing full well why he wouldn't tell Sirius a thing about the Dursley's feeding him like that, let alone anything else. He was too worried about Sirius coming back, and the most dangerous place for him to be was around the Dursley's. He'd never risk Sirius possibly getting caught, and there was just no point in telling him things that had already happened, something he was still adamant about.

Finally Vernon relented, telling Harry to go on and tell whoever he liked he could go to this Cup thing, but the Weasley's were to pick Harry up! Then he added on to make sure he told his Godfather.

"Pretty sure he nearly broke his jaw getting all of that out," Harry beamed, getting almost giggly he was so happy to hear that. He was getting to spend the rest of his summer with Ron. He was going to see the World Cup! He was leaving the Dursley's and didn't have to keep avoiding his family's burning questions.

Harry beamed as he got to his feet and had to forcefully stop himself from whooping as he went to the stairs. He was going over to the Weasley's! He was going to see the Quidditch World Cup!

"Best news I've heard yet." James nodded, finally forcing some real cheer into himself and clinging to it as long as he could.

"Why couldn't we have just started with that?" Lily agreed.

Harry nearly ran into Dudley out in the hall, who'd clearly been lurking and hoping to hear Harry getting told off.

"Yeah, that brings up a few more memories," Remus snorted.

He was clearly stunned to see the smile on Harry.

"I'm sure it is a rarity for Harry to ever smile around there," Sirius grumbled.

Harry pleasantly told Dudley as he passed that he'd quite enjoyed breakfast, and was plenty full from it.

James couldn't help a little snort of mirth, finding it the perfect cherry to rub Dudley's face in at the end.

Then Harry went pelting into his room, only to be hit in the side of the head by what resembled a feathery tennis ball.

Lily hadn't a second to worry what could be making her son yelp in pain, but instead burst out laughing at the description along with everyone else. She wasn't even sure what it was that could be pelting Harry like that, but judging by the fact that Harry was rubbing that exact spot in remembered pain but looking more amused than anything, she had no fears it was anything bad.

Harry rubbed at the spot as he eyed the owl zooming above his head, twittering madly with excitement.

"Wasn't that how Ron's new owl was described at the end of the last book?" Sirius perked up even more.

"Why would Ron be sending Harry a letter? Surely his mum told him she was sending something to the Muggles to ask the same thing," Remus asked.

"What does that have to do with Ron talking to his friend?" James rolled his eyes.

Harry found the birds dropped parcel, and recognized Ron's handwriting in big capital letters exclaiming how his dad had gotten the tickets!

Lily couldn't repress another smirk, James sounded more excited about this than anything he'd read yet. The only comparison was when he was reading about Harry's quidditch games, and those hadn't lasted long before he got upset again. Even if she didn't care for the sport much, she was genuinely happy to see her husband lighting up at anything again.

The game would be Ireland versus Bulgaria.

Sirius couldn't even find it in himself to be disappointed his favorite team hadn't made the league, he was pent up with too much excitement to care as he exclaimed, "Yes, Kenmare Kestrels vs Vratsa Vultures!"

"I wonder how many new players are in the lineup," James began, before he launched into a whole spiel about nearly every Quidditch team, much to Lily's groan of displeasure. Yet she still couldn't bring herself to interrupt them or stop them as all of the boys joined in, she figured she'd let them have this while they could, so she went over to Remus and took baby Harry upstairs to check on his diaper. By the time she came back down and they were still in full swing she simply nestled herself back into the couch next to her husband and began entertaining her charge by producing colorful puffs of smoke for his entertainment. The high pitched giggling noise of the child finally drew the reappearance of her cat Hickory, who padded up onto her lap, curled himself around baby Harry, and began purring contently as the game chat continued.

The picture perfect scene turned out to be just that, as Lily heard a soft click and looked up to realize that Sirius had that grin on her face which meant she was going to regret asking, "Sirius, what did you do?"

"Nothing," he said at once, stuffing something back behind him. She glanced up and saw James trying to smother a laugh as he said, "We just realized how bored you got, so how about we press on?"

She smirked at them, they knew full well that hadn't worked on her, but didn't protest either.

He knew his mother had sent something to the Muggles Harry lived with, but Ron had decided to send his own note with Pig.

"Pig?" Remus interrupted in confusion.

The books print was clear as day, and Sirius just shrugged saying, "Don't ask me," while he kept going.

Harry paused in his reading to look hard at the word 'Pig' before glancing up at the owl still swirling above his head. He'd never seen anything that looked less like a pig.

Harry wanted to laugh and say his old rat hadn't exactly looked like a scab either, clearly Ron just wasn't too adept at naming his pets, but chose not to bring that up as the others continued laughing at this, he wasn't going to be the one to bring the good mood back down.

Maybe he couldn't read Ron's writing.

"Can't imagine what other word that could be," Lily giggled.

So he instead went back to the letter, where Ron had written that they were coming to get Harry whether those Muggles agreed or not,

"Forever adore your best friend," Sirius' grin got even wider at that.

that Harry couldn't miss this game, Ron's parents had just decided it would be politer to pretend to ask first.

"Pretend," Remus choked, trying to stuff his own fist in his mouth to not laugh so loud Sirius would stop.

He told Harry to send back his answer as soon as possible, and either way they'd be there at five o'clock on Sunday for him.

James was bouncing in place so much he was starting to agitate the cat, but he just couldn't stop! He was so excited to hear about this, Harry getting away from the Dursley's more than anything, but the Cup!

He added on at the end that Hermione was already over at his place, and that Percy had gotten a job at the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

"Well good for him," Lily grinned, that was a great step in reaching his ambition of becoming Minister, best Department he could have stepped into for the political side.

Ron then begged Harry not to mention anything about Abroad, or they'd all be bored stupid.

Then she sighed, knowing she and Percy's parents were most likely the only ones actually happy for him. Honestly she really pitied Percy sometimes, she wished Harry would mention the boy had more friends he could talk to.

Ron signed off then, and Harry looked back up at the owl who was clearly still pleased with itself to having delivered its letter to the correct person.

"A very good accomplishment," Sirius snickered.

He walked over to his desk and wrote out a quick letter to Ron, saying the Muggles had agreed it was okay he could go, and he couldn't wait for Sunday.

"Neither can I," all four boys muttered one last time, still unable to cap their excitement for this.

It took Harry a moment to catch the excited bird and get his letter attached it was fidgeting around so much, but then it was gone. Harry went back to his first letter to Sirius, adding a postscript that by the time Sirius received this letter he'd be at Ron's place and on his way to the Quidditch World Cup.

"I'm pretty sure you'll now be fighting the impulse to ask Harry if his dog can come along," Remus muttered under his breath. Sirius got the gist of the joke anyways, and couldn't even deny he liked the idea.

Then he tied the letter off to Hedwig who took off as well, leaving Harry alone to enjoy his cake, savoring the happiness flooding through him right now.

"As are we," Lily nodded, giving her wand another little twist and creating a puff of purple smoke for her babies delight.

He had cake, and Dudley had nothing but grapefruit;

"There's the bright side!" Sirius cackled.

it was a bright summer's day, he would be leaving Privet Drive tomorrow, his scar felt perfectly normal again, and he was going to watch the Quidditch World Cup. It was hard, just now, to feel worried about anything - even Lord Voldemort.

"I hope you keep that feeling, just for this year," Sirius sighed as he passed Harry the book, knowing by now that asking for anything more would be a miracle in itself.

[prhyst]

interview~

He was getting cold feet.

Cold hands too.

If he wasn’t mistaken, even the tip of his nose was chilled despite the temperate light breeze rustling  through the monastery town. Rhys shook his head at himself, hands clasped within the sleeves of his flowing white robes. Things were different now, he was different; yet his steps were haunted by the weighted memories of rejection and failure, the sympathetic looks on laborers and guardsmens’ faces as they gently sent him off, and his parents’ assurances that he was a good lad, they were still proud, yet he couldn’t help but wish he could contribute. 

Things were different with the Greil Mercenaries, but what of now, on his own? 

The light tapping of his staff against his back in time with his stride helped ground him as he entered the monastery proper. He was a mercenary. If he earned his keep once, he could do it again. He was no child. His gifts had developed. He forcefully reminded himself of his own credentials as he hiked up a couple flights of stairs to his interview. For all the forts, fortresses, and castles he’d stormed into, the monastery was still a mix of stimulating and intimidating that swirled together into awe. His eyes darted around, trying to take it all in. He’d been inside once before to inquire after the position, but could still foresee himself getting lost.

The tinted glass of the greenhouse was a welcome sight. At least the tedious harvesting of herbs could be done more efficiently than foraging around plants that were left to the whims of wildlife. He was so preoccupied he found his destination before realizing it.

Out of nerves or a need for circulation, he was unsure, Rhys rubbed his hands together and took a deep breath, reaching out to rap his knuckles lightly on an office door. 

“Come in!”

Rhys steadied himself and entered with what he hoped was a hale a hearty complexion, a smile coaxed onto his face. “Hello. I’m Rhys, I’ve been staying in the town just south of the gates. This is where my interview is, right?”

“Yes. Sit down, please.”

Rhys settled himself in the chair across from the interviewer. 

“You said you’re interested in a teaching position?”

“Yes. My specialty is white magic.” Rhys kept his tone light. “It’s my only strength on paper, actually. I was a member of a mercenary group as their medic.”

“You would be willing to go into combat?” The interviewer asked smoothly with only a slight pitch up in surprise.

Rhys nodded eagerly, nerves giving way to enthusiasm. “Yes, absolutely! I’ve been fond of the idea of teaching for years, but I feel best when I’m where the action is. Better to heal someone right away than have them suffer complications on the way to the infirmary. I’ve had years of practice.”

“Experience is a definite benefit, but just to be clear, you only use magic?”

It was bound to come up. “Yes. I have difficulty even lifting an axe.”

“So you can’t use armor either?”

No, he’d had Gatrie and Titania to hide behind. Rhys winced. “No. Not heavy armor. Just use of terrain and keeping everyone safe saw me through. Every team member is important.” Even me. “Someone has to watch out for them.” Running around in groves and thickets like a squirrel wasn’t glorious by any means, but he was alive. 

Rhys had saved his comrades from enemies, and even from themselves. Tried to, anyway. He didn’t mean to be a mother hen, but some people had needed it. 

Sometimes he still wondered what someone like Kieran was doing unsupervised.

“We’ll have someone evaluate your healing abilities, but I think we’ll be hiring you. The monastery can always use more healers and professors with battle experience. It’s a military academy after all.”

Rhys smiled, genuinely this time as his heart leapt. “You are? That’s wonderful! I can’t wait to meet everyone!” His excitement was difficult to curb, bounding out of him with more youthfulness than expected from a priest. “Really, thank you! I’ll work hard for my students! And also for the knights! You can count on me!” He spoke too fast for the interviewer to get a word in. Realizing this, he settled on one question he did need answered. “How big are classes? Do the clergy have other duties here too?” Two questions. “Are there a lot of others from around the world here too? Maybe from the Tellius continent?” Three questions. 

His interviewer waved gently. “We thank you for wanting to help out. As best as I can tell, class sizes could be as small as a handful of students, or around twenty. Our clergy act as general healers and as aides to our students and communities, much like you already do. For the last question, yes. We are proud to welcome foreign students and faculty from many places. No doubt some people from your home too.” They looked down at their desk. “One last question for you, as a bit of an icebreaker. If a play were made about your life, what role would you play?”

It was so out of left field that Rhys had to pause. “Uh. I’m in the audience, honestly.” He didn’t correct himself in realizing they were talking about theoreticals. 

“But what I really want? I’d be the main heroic figure! We’re all the star of our own small lives. No matter what we are in our work, how poor we are, or what we can or cannot do, doesn’t everyone dream about that? It’s a core part of humanity to dream of something, and then to strive for it. It isn’t necessarily greed or ambition, but just to wonder what it’s like in shoes bigger than yours, even if you’ll never reach it. That’s how we grow." He couldn't imagine living without a sense of wonder and curiosity for everything outside of himself.

“I’ll be me for the rest of my life.” Rhys had made peace with it, as every human has to. “I spent a lot of time dreaming, but it doesn't compare to actually doing things. So I’ll do all I can."

Even if I don’t think it’s much.

[putschki1969]

Wakana Winter Special Live Matataki Osaka Live Report

So, I thought I would use the opportunity to write a quick report on my Shinkansen ride back to Tokyo.

Venue: This was my first time attending a concert at a live house so this was a pretty new experience for me. Everything is so small and intimate. Thank God they had seats prepared. For a long time I was worried this would be an all-standing live (which I absolutely would have hated). Umeda Quattro was a pain in the ass to find though. It’s hidden quite well on the 10th floor of a pretty inconspicuous building. And if you have ever been to Umeda, you know it’s a pretty spacious station. The elevator is out of service in the morning so we had to take the stairs to line up for the goods. I am so happy that her Osaka lives were completely sold out, Wakana deserves all of her concerts to be sold out! I really hope the Tokyo venue won’t be too empty, it would make me really sad, especially since it’s her birthday. Btw, I really love how it pays off to be a fan club member these days! I remember back in the Kalafina days being a fan club member never made a difference when it came to your seats. But I have always gotten a good seat with my Botanical Land application. So as always I suggest you get yourself a membership if you are planning to attend any Wakana lives in the future.

Acoustics: The acoustics naturally weren’t the best but I thought they were decent enough. During the Day performance I had a seat in the very first row right in front of Wakana. The sound was well balanced in that area. During the Evening performance I was in the third row all the way on the right side so the sound wasn’t too great there (it wasn’t balanced at all and since the speaker was right next to me, everything was a little too loud for my taste but it was bearable). I thought Wakana’s microphone had just the right volume to suit the instruments. She wasn’t overshadowed by the drums or anything.

Stage production and musicians: There wasn’t any special production, just the musicians behind Wakana. As far as I am concerned they all did a good job, especially the girl on percussion, she was really into it. I didn’t think they could make all her songs work with just piano, percussion and guitar but they managed to make everything sound great. Enjoyed all the arrangements!! Wakana was wearing a gorgeous flowy red dress that was giving off major Christmas vibes. She just wore her own pair of boots, the one we have seen her wear all the time recently. For the encore she put on her Aki no Sakura outfit. Couldn’t help but look at her pretty ankles, I have never seen them this up-close *feels like a perv saying this* There were obviously no cameras so there is zero chance of this being released in case anyone was wondering. I always get so many questions regarding releases :P

Vocals: Personally I thought Wakana was flawless during the very slow ballads but I didn’t enjoy her singing all that much during the high-tempo Kalafina songs (I never really did). Then there are songs like Kinmokusei and Yakusoku no Yoake where I know she is purposefully using a higher pitch but at times she is treading a fine line between sounding lovely and screechy. But overall, she delivered a strong performance despite doing so many songs in one day. I was expecting her voice to get a little weak during the Evening performance but for the most part, she did well. You can tell she has really worked on her stamina.

MCs: Wakana was much more nervous during the day performance. She kept screwing up and saying the wrong thing in the wrong order XD It was utterly adorable. She was constantly holding her water bottle/towel. It happened at night as well but she was much more confident there. During the first MC of the Day performance Wakana noticed me in the first row and pointed out that someone was wearing one of her outfits. Imagine my happiness!! I was over the moon! To have her say this in front of all these people. Waaaaaahhh!!! Senpai noticed me XD At the end of the Evening performance during the final greeting Wakana started crying because she was overwhelmed with feelings. They were happy tears because she was reflecting on all the things that had happened that year. It was a good and productive year for her after all, she can be proud. She tried squeezing her nose to stop crying but it didn’t work. Precious baby *sobs*

Day vs. Evening: In total three songs were different at the Evening performance. She sang Hard Rain instead of Boku no Kokoro no Tokei, snow falling instead of Yasashii Uta and she added a double encore to sing Ato Hitotsu. I am expecting the Tokyo lives to follow a similar - if not the same - pattern. Overall the evening audience was a bit more engaged. Louder clapping, proper singing along and a standing ovation at the end.

Thoughts on various songs: Not gonna go into detail regarding every single song. Eve was most definitely one of the highlights! I originally said that lyrics would seem overbearing with this sort of song but the way they arranged it made it work. Such a gorgeous song!! And Wakana’s vocals are simply outstanding. I remember her saying in an Instagram post that she was struggling while rehearsing this song since the notes were so high. At the time I read that post I was a little confused because she doesn’t actually sing that high in the short studio version. Now it makes sense because this full version with Japanese lyrics has super high parts and oh my God, Wakana sounds amazing. She is using a fuller voice which suits the song much better. Cannot wait to hear this two more times!! *so excited* I really hope this song is re-released soon!! I need to have this on CD!!! Orange was really good but nothing to write home about. I always enjoy Boku no Kokoro no Tokei and this time was no exception, I was a little bummed to have it replaced with Hard Rain during the night performance but hey, at least this way we got more songs. And she did a good job with that too. I actually liked this performance more than the one from the Voice tour. Her singing was nicer and she improvised a bit towards the end. I already mentioned Kinmokusei earlier, I absolutely love this song and generally enjoyed the performance but occasionally Wakana is getting to a range that doesn’t sound pleasant to my ears anymore. I know she is going for a pentatonic sound and maybe I am just not used to that but some notes were just too high for my liking. But it didn’t take away from the performance, it’s one of my favourite songs from her album so I am super happy she decided to sing it. As expected, I liked Yuuyake much more once I saw it performed live but it’s still not among my favourites.

Ahhhh!! The Christmas section! I was hoping she would sing a few Christmas pieces and YAY, she actually did!!! A staff member brought out a small chair and a lyrics stand for Wakana (since all the songs were in English she struggled quite a bit so I am guessing she had some notes to help her with the pronunciation). That Silent Night performance was utterly gorgeous! It started with the pianist using a fancy organ setting. Wakana started slowly by using a very warm and ethereal singing style - almost operatic I would say. I literally broke into tears, it was so unbelievably beautiful!! Wakana needs to release a Christmas cover album RIGHT NOW!!! After the first epic verse the other band members joined in and the song became a bit lighter and joyful, towards the end it was almost a pop-like arrangement, not sure how to explain it. Quite fascinating as a whole, I genuinely enjoyed the different styles used in the song. I didn’t know the second Christmas song at all and Wakana’s Engrish made it very hard to decipher the lyrics. But thankfully I understood the word “eskimos” so I just looked for a Christmas song that had “eskimos” in the lyrics XD Turns out there is only one, The Christmas Song. Not sure why Wakana decided to sing this. Maybe it’s very popular in Japan? No idea! Anyways, it was okay. She sounded lovely. Don’t really care for the song though, there are MUCH better Christmas songs out there that would have suited her better but I am sure she had her reasons. All I Want for Christmas is You on the other hand was PERFECT for Wakana. Such a pleasant surprise. You could tell that she had sung that song many times before, she felt much more comfortable with the English lyrics. And she slayed!! It’s no easy feat to cover a Mariah Carey song but she did it quite brilliantly. This is not a song I usually enjoy but Wakana made me like it!!

Now we get to Kalafina’s section which was surprisingly my least favourite. I will be honest, I didn’t like her Kalafina song choice here at all. The fact that she decided to stick with the original fast arrangements didn’t help either. I wonder why she didn’t go with a slow acoustic arrangement...that would have helped her a lot....Wakana has always had a hard time with these songs, you could tell she was straining her voice even back then during Kalafina days when she had Keiko and Hikaru singing alongside her. All by herself the songs got so much harder. Wakana admitted that these songs were super hard for her but she wanted to perform them for the fans. Seeing everyone’s happy face was worth the struggle according to her. As always the cheers were super loud for the Kalafina songs. Eden was okay, I know the song means a lot to Wakana and she really did her best but meh, she was out of breath a lot. Into the world was definitely my favourite in this section. I actually thought she was gonna sing Natsu no Ringo because the intro sounded just like it but no, it was just a fancy intro that transitioned nicely to the more familiar sound of into the world. She sounded solid during all parts and it’s just such a perfect fit for the journey she is now taking. It was quite moving to have her sing it. Her final “into the world” was amazing!!! Didn’t like ring your bell at all!! Probably my least favourite performance of the live. I never liked her singing style in this song and except for the final “ring your bell and raise your song” I found her singing quite screechy (mostly during the chorus). And for some reason she didn’t sing the bridge which is hands down my favourite part of the song (where she typically uses a more fitting and lovely singing style). Such a shame. (;_;)

Wakana is so much better with her own mid/high-tempo songs. Tsubasa and Kimi Dake no Stage were lots of fun!! Everyone was clapping along! Nothing out of the usual, pretty similar to her Voice performances I would say. But the best was without a doubt Koi wa Itsumo!!! Still cannot believe how much I love this song, it’s so freaking good!! Just wish she would have sung the “baby, baby” parts but since some parts are overlapping with her other lines she obviously couldn’t do it XD At the end she was asking us to sing along to the “haha koi wa haha itsumo haha sekai wo kaeru no” part and eventually we were singing all by ourselves. It was really nice. I am happy the audience participated. Usually it’s hard to get Japanese audiences to engage in something unexpected like that. During the Evening performance everyone had already figured it out so they were much more involved. She ended the main part of her live with Yakusoku no Yoake. Once again we got the gorgeous organ setting and Wakana sang a slightly slowed down version of the intro. It was so much better than the studio version or the performances from the Voice tour. Reminded me a lot of the first verse of Silent Night. The rest of the song was good but a little too high pitched at times.

As for the encore, OMG, Wakana’s solo versions of both Yasashii Uta [Day] as well as snow falling [Night] were PERFECT!! Utterly flawless!!! I am so grateful she sang these two songs, I was really hoping and praying for snow falling!!! Don’t even know what else to say about it. I personally didn’t mind the absence of Keiko and Hikaru, Wakana managed well on her own. Aki no Sakura was slowed down a tiny bit for the live I think...liked it much more like this. Generally it was a very good performance that made me appreciate the song a lot more. Ahhhh, so happy we got Ato Hitotsu as double encore during the Evening performance. It wasn’t as moving as her Voice performance but still super lovely.

Okay, that’s it for me. I had a blast. Not regretting going for all four Wakana lives. Cannot wait for tomorrow.

[arthurjdrake]

A chance bonding experience over pie, tea and haunted tape recorders with @damn-fine-cup-of-tea

“February twenty-ninth, it is 9.30am. The air still reeks of fish although I could swear that it has gotten better since I first got here. I still haven’t managed to get the name for those beautiful pine trees they have here. I was told they had moose. I must see a moose before I leave this town. I’m going to the bakery. Carol, if you ever get up this way, the apple pie at the diner is to die for. I must find out if they make it themselves, or if it is the same as the one from the baker. They don’t have proper tea here, and I had to go to Bangor to get my hands on tea leaves. Remind me to tell you how much that was. The people here are quite lovely, although I will have to notify the ATF and possibly the NSA about some of the inhabitants.” The agent stood still in the office they had given him at the police station. A tape recorder in his hand, Javier glanced and nodded politely at a police officer passing by the door before he went on : “I had the strangest dream last night. One of the deceased, a woman called Catherine Brissaud visited me in my dreams and kissed me. She looked beautiful but there was something off about her voice, she spoke gibberish. Then, she opened her mouth and a man’s voice came out of it telling me that it would kill again. There was this music in the back I cannot get out of my head, Carol. This is all very upsetting. I still have no clue on who could possibly have done it, why, or how? None of the victims showed wounds, and still, their entrails are all missing. All of it. I might need to stay here a bit longer than we imagined.” Grabbing his coat from the back of his chair, the man decided to head to the bakery by foot, his thermos of tea in his hand. At last, a good proper cup of tea. Pushing the door to the bakery, he waited in line, glancing around the shop, searching for something, anything that would possibly catch his eye. That man in the corner with a cockatiel pattern on his tie surely seemed interesting.

With the recent keying of his car, Arthur had taken to walking places. Better that than risk further damages to his property from Freyja’s vague and self-serving ire. The very thought of everything that had happened online was enough to send him stir crazy if he stayed inside any longer. No, he needed a trip out to one of the few places he found some peace in this mad place. There was also the current issue of sorting out Nadia’s identity and Adam’s current curse from that blasted chalice. Jobs and side-tasks were stacking up faster than he could keep up with but in a way he was thankful for the distractions. Explaining how he ended up joining the queue tapping out a couple of quick replies to several of the emails in his inbox. With those sent he tucked his phone away and he could turn his attention to a few of the other patrons of the quiet bakery and associated coffee shop. He looked at the display case and hummed in thought unsure what to get - he never had been very good at making decisions. “Sorry,” he said to the man in front of him hoping it wasn’t a real bother “excuse me, I’m rather stuck on what to go for… Do you think the apple or the passionfruit one is better?”

“No harm done,” Javier turned around and gave the man a thorough look, his eyes travelling all across him before he gave him a pat on the arm. “I think, and this is only my opinion, that there is nothing better than a good, old fashioned, properly made, apple pie,” he released the man’s arm to point his finger at the pie behind the glass. “And this, looks exactly like a good, old fashioned, properly made, apple pie.” The crust/filling ratio appeared to be nearing perfection, as did the cooking of the apple, or the color of the dough that covered it all. And, this was really the cherry on top of it all : the pie was decorated very tastefully. Maybe this would help him forget about the town’s apparent aversion for a proper cup of tea. “You are British, aren’t you?” Javier was sure of that, but it never hurt to ask. “What do you think of the tea situation in this town?”

Arthur was quite accustomed by now to being inspected by strangers, and in a town like this his accent tended to make him stick out like a sore thumb. He didn’t mind, so he waited and smiled politely taking in the other man’s appearance in kind, at a guess he seemed of an age to himself - at least physically. The greeting was friendly in kind, which settled any initial concerns that he might have bothered this stranger with his question. It was a nice change considering it seemed a majority of those he’d met significantly younger. At least beyond Carrington but that was another dynamic entirely and gave merit to the fact that you could hardly tell people’s actual ages from initial observation. “I think you might be right,” Arthur found himself agreeing tapping his bottom lip thoughtfully “especially with this wintery weather.” The cold hardly bothered him but it hardly meant a warm treat every now and then wouldn’t go amiss. “I feel like I haven’t had a good apple pie in ages,” baking hadn’t been the highest of priorities on his list lately but it was something he was keen to get back into. His smile grew a tad wry at the stranger’s next question, “damn, what gave it away?” he asked in light jest. “Definitely not the accent, was it my fondness for weather discussions and freshly baked goods?” His grin turned to a mournful look though the humour remained in his tone, “oh gods it’s atrocious. Don’t even get me started. I turned up for my first day and asked where the kettle was - they didn’t even have one. They microwave it.” He shook his head in mild disbelief over this “have to get people from back home to send me yorkshire brew or else I’d lose my mind.” He glanced at the thermos, “I’m guessing you feel the same?”

“The weather is quite something,” Javier commented, idly tapping his finger on top of his thermos, in tune with that song he had heard in his dreams. God, that thing was stuck in his head. “Talking of which,” it may have not smelled like fish in the shop, and in fact, the whole place smelled very nice, but the agent had to ask about that damn smell. “Does it always smell like fish in this town?” It seemed odd to him that people would ever decide to settle and live in such a place. He kept a stern look on his face, although there was always a hint of playfulness in his eyes as he spoke. “Then you must have a slice of apple pie. Maybe you can sit with me. I’ll share the tea,” he offered. It would be a great opportunity to discuss with the locals, who, even if they were not connected with his case, helped him draw a better picture of the town and what could possibly be insidiously corroding, gnawing it. “I will say, that the accent sold you out, and the talk of weather and pastries confirmed my doubts,” he politely replied, glancing over the man’s shoulder to have a look at someone who had just walked in. Their socks did not match. He wondered if this had been done on purpose or not. “Funny.” He said, turning his attention back on the British man. “Of course they would. I have had people tell me that tea in bags was not so bad. It’s atrocious !” He shook his head, clearly disapproving of that kind of affirmation. “You are the third person who tells me they have to order tea from across the sea. I’m sure there’s a lot more of upset tea lovers in town.” Something had to be done about this. As it was his turn to order, the agent turned toward the saleswoman with a bright smile. “I will have a slice of pie, please,” he glanced at the man. “And the man after me, will have another one of those.”

Arthur had become relatively accustomed to the smell, but at least it had stopped raining fish. Small mercies. Yet, as the other man asked after it he shrugged. “I have no idea honestly… There was some weird meteorological event… Raining fish. Whole town was covered. But it’s definitely been getting a damn lot better since that stopped.” He didn’t mention the chest, or the fact that since he’d heard through the grapevine that it’d been opened that the weirdness had stopped. “How can I deny an offer like that?” he smiled, genuinely grateful for the offer this stranger extended out. “Then at least let me buy you some of the apple pie to say thank you for the kindness of sharing the tea,” it was the least he could do. The laugh that was drawn from him was light, “ahhh, guilty as charged.” It wasn’t entirely true, but true enough for this lifetime that he’d subscribed to the general notion. “Heathens, the lot of them. I’m telling you.” The disapproving look the stranger got was rather amusing overall. “Oh, most definitely. We should start a club.” They moved up and Arthur let the other man order for them both, taking his card out to cover the payment “I’m Arthur by the way, I didn’t catch your name mister-?”

Raining fish. It must have been a local expression, a derivative of it’s raining cats and dogs. Although, Javier could imagine that a storm could cause fish to end up in the atmosphere and rain down on a coastal town such as White Crest. There was nothing too weird here. “That’s funny,” he let a thin smile tug the corner of his lips upward. The town seemed to be rather normal, but the people here were a bit odd. The man he was talking to seemed quite normal, compared to the rest of them, although it was a bit early to be certain about that. “That is a very kind offer,” he nodded politely and moved aside to let his new tea friend pay for the pie. Javier wondered whether he should be introducing himself as an agent or as a citizen. It was unlikely that this person would have anything to do with his case, or he was truly the luckiest investigator this town had ever seen. “Javier, I’m Javier Sterling,” he had made his choice. Little did he know that he would not be able to be just a citizen for long, or that his tape recorder had developed a mind of its own and decided to record his conversation with Arthur. Sitting at a table by the windows, Javier walked back to the counter to ask for cups. If he clearly disapproved of paper cups, he did not comment on it as the saleswoman handed him those, and he walked back to the table to pour them each a cup of tea. This one had been advised by one of the people he spoke to online, and he had high hopes and expectations about it.

“You think I’m joking?” he glanced at the man, and the look on his expression earned a momentary thought of ah, of course you do. A majority of the cod and salmon had been cleared away from the streets, but Arthur still noticed the occasional one dotted around down. One had even been on the spear of a statue in down, talk about being skewered. “Least I can do,” Arthur said pleasantly as Javier stepped aside and he could pay for the two slices of pie. With the introduction Arthur offered an extremely warm hand out for a polite greeting “Arthur Drake if you’re going for full formality.” Once they were cut and served on plates with a couple of forks, Arthur picked them up and carried them over to the table. “So, what brings you to White Crest?” he queried as he slid into one of the seats at the table pulling one of the two plates over as Javier sorted out the tea “I mean, beyond the picturesque scenery and excellent apple pie? Somehow you don’t strike me as the small town kinda guy.”

Javier looked at the man with a perplexed look on his face, trying to figure out if this was some sort of elaborate joke. The puzzled look on his face did not really fade away until Arthur held out his hand and Javier shook it firmly, hoping that this conversation about the falling fish would stop now. “Drake. El dragón,” he commented, before he turned his back on the man. Sitting at the table, he took some time looking outside, although there was nothing special that caught his eye this time. Getting his coat off of his shoulders, the agent unbuttoned his suit’s jacket to get more comfortable. Besides, nothing looked worse than a man sitting with a closed jacket. “What brings you to White Crest?” The question was repeated, with echo, the chatter of the bakery amplified. Javier had just opened his mouth to reply, but the sound did not come from his mouth, but rather from his coat. The agent frowned, glancing at the piece of clothing. Could he have both pushed the record and play buttons by accident? There was a sound of rewinding tape for a couple seconds before the tape recorder started saying : “ get out of my head, Carol. This is all very upsetting. I still have no clue on who could possibly have done it, why, or how? None of the victims showed wounds, and still, their entrails are all missing. All of it.” When Javier got his hands on the tape recorder, he realized that none of the buttons were pushed, and still the tape played. Great, the damn thing was broken. “Excuse me,” he said, ejecting the tape and putting it away in a case. “I’m here with the FBI,” he sighed.

Ah well, he would learn soon enough. Arthur was hardly here to blow the man’s mind, so left him to his ignorance for the time being. “Indeed,” the translation that Javier picked up on was just part of the irony of each name he picked. Though most tended to overlook the fact. Pulling the cup towards him he first took a sip and hummed quietly in appreciation. Just the right strength. He waited on Javier’s response to his question, but what happened next had Arthur furrowing his brows in confusion. Victims, wounds, entrails missing? He looked to the coat in question suspiciously and then at Javier frantically fiddling with it once he’d pulled out the apparent recorder. “Uh…” he blinked a little caught off guard while Javier dealt with his screwy technology “sure…” Though he couldn’t help but frown a little with the clarification that Javier was with the FBI, “I see…” he caught himself and sat up a little straighter already having a suspicion this man was here for more than just the apple pie “well, seems like something important brought you to town.” He tilted his head in mild curiosity, “a case?”

Javier pursed his lips. Putting the tape recorder next to his cup of tea, he grabbed the latter and took a sip of it before he answered Arthur's question. Judging by the look on the man’s face, it was necessary for Javier to explain himself. He idly snapped his fingers, staring at them as he focused on what he would tell him. “A case.” He repeated, grabbing his fork to take a bite of the apple pie. His eyes shut closed as a pleased expression erased any trace of worry the tape recorder had given him. Groaning happily, the agent snapped out of it after a few long seconds. Right, the case. “We have five people with their insides missing,” he added, having swallowed his bite. “That apple pie is, excuse me, fucking amazing,” he stared at his place with the most delighted look on his face. “What about you? Where do you work?”

Arthur couldn’t entirely help how his eyes flickered to the tape recorder, a paranoid part of his mind wondering whether their conversation had been recorded. Were there others in town like him? Did that mean that other people might’ve been recording and documenting things? It was a slight worry inducing thought and he couldn’t help the slight tap of his foot. He’d forgotten about the apple pie in his minor moment of paranoia, but as Javier began to explain why he was here he felt some of the knotted tension ease. Well, at least they weren’t here for other reasons… At least not yet. “Sounds rather suspicious…” he remarked as he thought on the roster of things that might be capable of such violence or potential feeding habits, though admittedly he didn’t know them off by rote “but… the recording said there were um-- no wounds did it say?” It was only at Javier’s remark that Arthur remembered that he too had some, picking up his fork he cut through the pie and had a bite pleasantly surprised at the explosion of cinnamon and sugary apple that hit his palate. “Damn… You’re right.” He took another bite, but at Javier’s question Arthur swallowed and took a sip of tea to clear his mouth. “Ah, just up at the college... I lecture in the history and mythology department.”

Javier pointed at his face, his round cheeks suggesting that he was in the middle of eating another bit of that superb pie. Chewing slowly, he took his time to finish his bite as it took more than a discussion about missing guts for the agent to lose his appetite. “No wounds, nothing in common between the victims, no traces of effraction. It’s as if a ghost murdered them all,” picking up the paper napkin to wipe at the corner of his mouth, he glanced again at the tape recorder. He could have sworn that he had seen it move. He did not recall pushing any of the buttons, and yet the pause button was pressed in. And now the stop button, without him touching it. “Well that is odd,” he took the machine in his hand, inspecting it closely. “I’ll have to order a new one,” he thought aloud, putting it away in his coat. "That sounds fantastic,” he gave the man a thumb up, picking up his cup to take a sip of tea. “I find both of those subjects to be absolutely fascinating,” he explained. Javier was delighted that he had had the chance to run into a teacher as he believed that this was one of the most generous professions one could have.

He didn’t particularly wish to rush the pie as it was exceptionally good, so he took to sipping on his tea mulling over the tidbits of the case this agent was working on. This was hardly the first time he’d discussed weird and gruesome things over food so he wasn’t particularly put off by it. “Strange, is there any sort of similarity between the victims? Gender, ethnicity, age?” Most killers had some sort of profile that they worked to, Arthur might not have been in the service in this lifetime but he knew the protocol. Had stuck to it himself in recent lifetimes. As Javier picked up the tape recorder that had seemingly pressed its own buttons, Arthur narrowed his eyes a little suspicious of the little device that seemed to have developed a mind of its own. “Can I have a look at that?” Javier had taken the tape out so Arthur hardly saw any harm in asking to have a closer look. The thumbs up earned a humbled smile, “ah, they certainly are that. Though the FBI seems like a fascinating job. Serving your country and keeping people safe, I’m sure there’s nothing else quite like it.”

Javier rubbed at his chin for a moment as he thought about the different victims. They had nothing, truly nothing in common, aside from being found dead, with nothing left inside their abdomen. Thinking about this reminded him of his dream and that woman he saw. Catherine Brissaud. Shaking her out of his mind, he sipped silently on his tea. “Nothing, absolutely nothing. Ethnicity, age, gender, hair color, fragrance, occupation, hobbies. I have been looking at their whole lives and nothing is similar so far,” he explained. He had not expected that Arthur would find his tape recorder to be so interesting, and now that there was no tape in it, what wrong could it do. He handed over the device, not sure what the man could probably do to fix it, although maybe Arthur had a few other skills up his sleeve. “It is an amazing job. I do not think I could really make a change any other way.” Javier had considered working as a police detective a long long time ago, but travelling and working on cases like this one was a lot more gratifying to him.

“Well… That sounds both horrifying and utterly perplexing,” Arthur couldn’t help but be equally fascinated and terrified by the thought of something like that. “And you’re certain it’s the same…” he caught himself from saying thing “person… doing this? What about location? No apparent circle theory?” Arthur knew a little about psychological models of criminal behaviour, having studied history of different eras it was pertinent to have some understanding of how criminals behaved and acted in their attempts to avoid capture. As Javier retrieved the tape recorder, Arthur slid it over and turned it over thoughtfully inspecting the buttons. Pressing one to let it play though no sound came out (as he expected) considering there was no tape. He tested each button individually, finding nothing out of the ordinary about it. Interesting. “I suppose most people think of the police or the army when they think about serving their country, but the FBI is pretty darn impressive.” As he spoke, Arthur ensured all buttons weren’t pressed or locked and set it back down on the table in front of him mostly to keep an eye on it. “How’d you come into that field? Not something you just walk into surely? If you don’t mind me asking that is.”

“The way of killing is too specific to be done by several people, unless we’re looking at a cult, of course.” Javier rubbed his fingers against his jawline for a moment. “Considering the murders have been taking place in the same town, there is not a lot we can do to establish a possible location for the culprit’s home.” Obviously whoever was doing this must have been from White Crest, but drawing a profile for them was nearly impossible. “I expect that they’ll make a mistake. They always do,” serial killers were not very original, but how long it took them to start being reckless, to start playing with the press, or law enforcement, was never a set number of days. If only it had been so simple. Javier watched Arthur inspect his tape recorder. He remained quiet, although he still wondered what it was the man was trying to achieve, pushing buttons and staring at them. There was no judgement in his eyes, and he looked at him with marvel in his eyes. “People tend to forget that we also serve our country and not just the Bureau. We have to thank television for this,” looking out the window, his eyebrows raised as he saw a familiar silhouette standing on the other side of the road. Once again, they disappeared the moment something blocked his view. “I’ve always wanted to work in law enforcement. Back when I was a child, we used to hear about the FBI a lot on television. I started sending letters to the FBI director that summer.”

“Not something you could rule out I suppose,” Arthur remarked as he mulled over the few bits and pieces that Javier had provided regarding his reasoning for being here. “I mean if it’s in the same town then surely the culprit has to be living within the vicinity of the town? So, it narrows it down at least in that regard…” He looked out the window towards the street, watching as a couple of people walked by unassuming. How many people could this case put at risk? Too many. Perhaps it was a good idea to offer assistance and simply observe this agent’s progress. Putting such a creature away would likely benefit everyone, but there was a small concern in the back of his mind that innocents could equally incriminate themselves considering the… special population variation that White Crest possessed. “Perhaps, but how long do you wait until that happens?” Arthur completed his inspection and frowned, turning his attention to Javier with his remark. “Yes, television provides a great many unhelpful stereotypes. Perhaps success will make some think differently at least?” He could understand the draw of law enforcement. It was a noble profession. “That’s quite a direct approach, I guess you made quite an impression if that’s how you got into the business,” Arthur grinned wryly at the thought of a young boy writing to the FBI asking to join them one day. It was rather endearing in a sense. “And you’ve been with them ever since? That’s rather impressive.”

“It has not been ruled out.” Javier had, over the years, specialized in working on crime related to those sort of organizations. All these grotesque deaths, however… Those didn’t happen all too often. Usually with them, it was rituals that ended up in an accident, or, a human sacrifice. This seemed different. There seemed to be nothing that indicated a freak accident or a sacrifice. There were no signs, sigils, drawings, books. He took out his notebook and wrote himself a memo to have a look at all the books in the victims’ homes. A chore, but one that he would do anyway. “Maybe they’ve already done it,” he looked up from his notebook as he closed it, putting it away. He probably had missed something, a detail, when he went to those crime scenes. He would have to be more thorough. “Well, I only joined when I finished training at the academy,” he scoffed. The thought of 11 years old him running around with a cardboard badge after his older brother came back to his mind and he laughed some more, shaking his head. Boy, did he bore his brother to death with his stories back then.

“How long has all this been going on for?” he asked curiously “no symmetry with calendar dates or lunar cycles?” There was always some sort of pattern that came with things like this, or at least there tended to be. It was simply a matter of finding it that was the issue. Arthur lightly drummed his fingers on the table in thought. “Are all the crime scenes in town? Perhaps there is something that might have been overlooked?” While he had no particular investment in assisting, a part of him couldn’t help but be curious as to what might be responsible for these murders. “Perhaps you need another set of eyes aiding you with the case?” In a past life this had been the exact same sort of work he’d been employed to do. To locate and track moving targets and attempt to pinpoint their location, admittedly on a larger scale than a single murderer or cult potentially responsible for such things. “Was there any sign of forced entry at the properties?” Of course, he knew Javier had no particular reason to divulge any information regarding the case at all but it never hurt to ask. Did it?

“There is some sort of regularity to this,” it had nothing to do with the moon, or with a day of the month in particular, but there was indeed a pattern. More or less every three weeks, a person died. This comforted him in his idea that he was dealing with a cult. They killed when they needed to, no more, no less, taking only what was necessary. The agent finished his slice of pie and wiped his mouth with a lot of attention before he replied. “There is no doubt that we missed something. Either that, or we are dealing with a ghost,” he shook his head and sighed. Rubbing at his face, Javier looked at Arthur through his fingers for a moment, entirely still and silent. “We’ll see. We don’t usually ask our consultants to inspect crime scenes. But if you find something interesting, I might have to make you tag along,” his hands dropped down onto his lap. He shook his head at Arthur’s next question, a thin smile appearing on his face. He could tell that the man was interested, but Javier wondered if his interest would falter as he found out that there was, so far, no way to identify the killer, or even start drawing a loose portrait of them.

“Oh? And what’s that?” considering they were already discussing this at length he didn’t see any harm in asking. It was only in the interim of discussion that Arthur chose to look down at the tape recorder and frowned a little at how a couple of the buttons he’d unpressed earlier were now pressed and the little cogs turning inside of the machine. Interesting. “You know, in this town I wouldn’t say that too loudly… Some people might really believe you if you said you were dealing with a ghost… Lots of folks believe in that around here, maybe it’s why your killer is getting away with things so freely hm?” he smiled a touch wryly at the agent, more in good humour the man sat opposite him was painfully human in his limited mindset. It was unfortunate really, he wouldn’t catch anything with that sort of mindframe. Arthur reached for a napkin which he unfolded and set on the table on top of which the recorder was placed. Next, he took one of the salt shakers and carefully unscrewed the lid and made a ring of salt around the device. A rite was spoken under his breath, and a grey cloud of something intangible shot out of the little speaker of the device. With this done, he picked up the recorder and inspected it once more. “I know you don’t,” Arthur said in simple understanding, he knew the protocols perhaps not the modern day ones but things hadn’t changed all that much in a century. The objective was still the same, gather the relevant evidence and hunt down the killer in question. “But, and correct me if I’m overstating - but I’m not sure the typical means of case operation will solve this mystery and I think you might’ve already begun to realise that… Plus, if I find something - it gives you a lead. If not…” he tilted his shoulder a little “no harm done. So, what do you say detective?” The question was posed with the offering of his tape recorder back - likely in fully functioning condition now if what Arthur suspected had been inhabiting it was right.

“I think it will happen again. In a week or so,” Javier replied, picking up his cup of tea and frowning at it. Lukewarm. Wrinkling his nose, he looked away from Arthur as he emptied a salt shaker on the table, too busy pouring himself a new cup of tea. If could see what he was doing from the corner of his eyes, it was not until he had put his thermos away that Javier looked at the state of the table then up at Arthur’s face. If he remained completely silent, you could tell from the look on his face that he disapproved of this. Picking up the napkin carefully, he wrinkled it in his hand so as not to make a mess, and put it in his plate, making sure that not one bit of salt would fall to the floor or on the table. “There was no need to pour out the salt shaker. I better not start mentioning folklore monsters that require being stabbed to you,” not that they had cutlery that could cause a problem, but Javier had already been stabbed with a fork in the past, and knew that this was far from pleasant. “So, people think ghosts are real then. What else?” Vampires, fairies, Big Foot, el Cuco? Having spent quite some time near New Orleans, Javier was used to people believing in weird stories, or telling them to their children to traumatize them (which was a custom Javier did not understand). Having taken care of this salty mess, the agent took his tea cup and listened to the professor’s explanation. It was not an unexpected offer, and on other occasions, he had been given the same one by other men and women before. All he needed to know was whether or not Arthur would pose a problem in the future. He did not seem like someone who would get in his way, or do dangerous things for the sake of helping him. First taking the recorder back from Arthur’s hand, he nodded quietly before explicitly replying : “Alright. I suppose we have an agreement here.”

His point made and task completed, Arthur looked slightly amused at the disapproving look Javier fixed him with. “Just trying to make a point at the strange thing people will do if you mention stuff like that around here.” The act was both meticulous in its layout and answered certainly enough what he’d suspected about Javier having no clue about the truth of this town. “Actually, most folklore indicates that beheading is usually the best course of action against most of those tall-tale beasties.” But he tipped a shoulder as Javier mentioned about ghosts, “I’ve actually found the people here believe in a lot more than just ghosts…. You’ll see soon enough.” He clasped his hands in front of him on the table waiting quite patiently, Javier didn’t have to take him up on the offer but it was there regardless and his interest was quite plain to see. “Very well,” he took out his wallet and fished out a simple black card embossed with his details in calligraphic silver script which he slid across the table with his index and middle finger. “Contact me a time that suits, I’ll be happy to come and offer any assistance I can that might be of any pertinent use.” He stacked the plates and cutlery, picking up the spare cup. “Thank you again - for the tea and the company. I look forward to hearing from you,” with a polite dip of his head Arthur delivered the plates to the counter to save the waitress from collecting them, collected his bag and made for the door.

[juniperwindsong]

Necessary Monsters (3/16)

Summary: 

"Brought her in on my shift, they did. Thought she were dead! Pale as a corpse - like there weren't no blood left in her - but twitching, like. The way I used to see 'em back when...You-Know-Who's followers were torturing people left and right. You'd see 'em twitch like that when they'd had the Cruciatus Curse used on 'em too long."  

     It takes twelve and half minutes to walk the road leading from the Hogwarts grounds into Hogsmeade, then a matter of seconds to apparate outside the Leaky Cauldron in London.  Add four more minutes to enter the crowded pub, climb the stairs, and wind down the hall to the room at the very end, and Felix has had just enough time to work himself into a respectable frenzy.

    Felix has never been able to pinpoint the exact date he fell in love with Juniper Windsong, so he can't say definitively just how long he's been planning their reunion. But it's been the highlight of his thoughts for almost a year. The perfect evening, carefully orchestrated to show Juniper how he's come to feel about her and persuade her to feel the same. Gone to pieces. 

   He slams the door, the parade of ruined moments and wasted opportunities building enough furious momentum behind his arm to rattle the frame. Throwing his cloak over the room's mouldy winged armchair, Felix runs his fingers irritably through his hair. He should have been more direct, he berates himself, kicking petulantly at one of the chair's wobbly legs. It gives an indignant "Oi!" and scoots away from him, nearer the fire. He had hoped to let his actions explain his feelings for him, even thought he'd done a halfway decent job in spite of the evening's rocky start. But replaying their conversations in his head, Felix fears he wasn't obvious enough.

   Regret beats a heartless rhythm against the inside of his skull as he perches on the edge of the rickety bed. Juniper did want to see him over the summer, he consoles himself, that's something. And she had seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of visiting him. And there was that moment in the common room, their fingers intertwined, faces so close Felix could almost feel the nervous excitement radiating from her. He's positive Juniper had been waiting for him to lean in just a bit more, even imagines her eyes had flicked for a moment to his lips.

   Felix falls back against the lumpy mattress with a groan. All that means nothing if she gets herself killed next year. Felix had so hoped finding Jacob Windsong alive would finally put a stop to her amateur investigations. But he knows with a sinking certainty, in spite of her assurances that she wants to leave the Cursed Vaults behind, Juniper will never be able to escape their web while her brother is still caught in it.

   And even if she survives her last year of school unscathed, he thinks miserably, there's always her excessive number of male friends. Juniper may have little interest in them now, but Felix knows better than anyone how much a relationship can change in one term. 

   His brain bruised by the weight of all the things he cannot control, Felix pulls his wand out from underneath him and points it in the direction of his valise.

   "Accio," he mumbles.

   The bag sails halfheartedly across the room and stalls at the foot of the bed. Felix uses the tip of his shoe to edge it closer to him, his hand fumbling for the catch. He reaches in without looking and, as he does whenever he feels anxious, pulls out a sheaf of parchments wrapped in a leather tie, heavily frayed and dangerously thin in places. 

    He tugs at the crude binding carefully, toying, as he often does, with the romantic notion of finding a ribbon, preferably Juniper's, to replace the leather. But he's never known her to wear any kind of ribbon in her hair. And anyway, Felix thinks as he pulls out a particularly worn piece of parchment, he doubts a hair ribbon would wrap all the way around their collected years of correspondence. He settles back against the pillow and lets the words he knows by heart soothe its anxiously racing beat.  

-

   Since his graduation, Felix has received more letters from Juniper than he can count. This by itself isn't exceptional. He's received many letters, far more than he expected. Former classmates write occasionally with updates on their lives, Barnaby writes regularly for advice, and even his mother sends the sporadic note pleading with him to return home. But it's Juniper who writes with questions about him. Juniper, to whom Felix recounts his days, even the most boring and difficult bits. She has the uncanny ability to read past his affected formality, and  Felix soon discovers there's no one else with whom he can truly be himself.

   After months of rough tenting with bad food and very few actual dragons, it's Juniper Felix complains to, and Juniper who both sympathises and challenges him to stay his course. When he's forced to kill a dragon for the first time in defence of himself and his team, it's to Juniper Felix relays the entire gut-wrenching affair, complete with the horrid guilt he feels and the nightmares he cannot shake. And it's Juniper who comforts him with words like a balm, that he reads through each night to lull himself to sleep. Her letters become the best part of every month, and he begins counting the days until they arrive.

   It's after the end of his first and only relationship, nearly a year ago, that Felix begins picking Juniper's letters apart, studying them as intently as if he'll be tested on their contents. He re-reads everything she's ever written, parsing each word for hidden meaning, anything that might indicate she cares for him as more than a friend or confidante. Some days Felix is convinced he can read love plainly in her words, then the next day he's sure he imagined it. The uncertainty drives him to distraction, until admitting the depth of his feelings actually seems like the less painful option. But it has to be done face to face, Felix decides, that’s the proper way. And after the Quidditch match on which so much of her school reputation is staked seems like the best time; when she'll either be full of high spirits or in need of comfort.

-

   Felix sets the worn letter aside in agitation. It's no good. He's reached a level of anxiety he's only ever been able to soothe by writing to Juniper about it, which he can hardly do in this case.

   An idea appears in Felix’s head fully formed, and he sits up abruptly. Why not just tell her in a letter? Felix had convinced himself love was something that must be discussed in person, that the month spent waiting for a response to such an admission would be unbearable. But he's no longer at the mercy of inter-continental post. Her return letter might even reach him before he left England. And he's always been better able to express himself in writing. 

   Perhaps his prose can do what his actions couldn't and convince her to keep herself safe. For him.

   Reinvigorated by this new plan, Felix scrambles off the bed. He pulls parchment, quill, and ink from his bag, and seats himself at the spindly-legged stool in front of the room's token writing desk. A small window looms behind it, the darkness outside transforming the glass into a black mirror reflecting his face, every line quivering with purpose.

   Felix dips his quill in ink and pauses briefly at the top of the parchment. The ink drips slowly from the quill tip after one minute, and then another, and then several pass without him pressing the point to the page, as it dawns on him that he has not the first idea how to begin such a letter. Which seems impossible; he's composed snatches of letters like this in his head for a year, waiting for the perfect moment to pen them. But now it's time, words seem to have deserted Felix, just as they did in the common room and out on the grounds.

   Because it has to be perfect. That's key. Whatever he writes has to convince Juniper to put aside a quest that's become an obsession, persuade her his love is worth such a sacrifice. And Felix is positive it is. There isn't a person alive, including her brother, who cares for Juniper more than he does. Felix is certain of that.

   A small, confident smile flickers to life on his lips, and Felix begins to write. Haltingly at first. But he finds as he focuses on Juniper’s smiling face, the memory of her cheek pressed against his fingers, the words come easier, and it isn't long before he's pouring his heart onto the page. He confesses to the parchment everything he's felt for Juniper since he was seventeen, allowing emotion to choose his words instead of adherence to any literary form. Felix writes until his parchment is exhausted, then leans back from the desk.

   He holds the letter close to the yellow candle illuminating the desktop in uneven patches and reads what he's written with a critical eye; and then again, trying to see the words from her perspective. With a slight shake of his head, Felix sets the parchment back down and picks up the quill again, crossing out lines and adding words in, until any ordinary candle would have melted into its iron holder and sputtered out.

   By the time the sky outside the window lightens to a steely grey, Felix has finished a draft he likes. Perhaps it would be hubris to call it perfect, he thinks immodestly, but it's certainly close. He folds the parchment with extreme care, as though excess creases may cause her to simply throw the thing away without reading, then tucks it delicately into an envelope and seals it before he can reconsider.

   Flushed with excitement, Felix stands, stretching his cramped fingers. The thought of waiting to deliver the letter is intolerable, but, as he glances out the window at the predawn light, he knows the Post Office in Diagon Alley won't yet be open. The rational voice in his head suggests timidly that he ought to get some sleep, but there's too much adrenaline coursing through him and he's itchy for action. He'll wait in the pub, he decides, have a quick bite to eat and then set off as soon as the hour strikes.

   Felix tucks the letter carefully into the pocket of his rumpled robes, and walks with a bounce out of the room and down the cramped and winding stairs.

-

   Felix wasn't overly familiar with the Leaky Cauldron before two days ago. Necessity has forced him to rent a room there while in England. His father, astonishingly tolerant up till now of what he considers Felix's "rebellious dragon phase", has made it clear in his last correspondence that a transfer to the Romanian Reserve is the final straw, and until Felix is willing to return to his family obligations, he will no longer enjoy any Rosier family benefits. Namely money and a place to live. Since Felix has expected this since he first introduced his chosen profession to his parents, he's only moderately hurt.

   This is the second morning Felix has spent in the inn and pub, but he’s learned he enjoys its sleepy silence as the regulars engross themselves in their papers before ingesting enough food and news to begin chatting with their neighbors. It makes for a pleasant start to the day, and Felix pushes open the door looking forward to a quiet breakfast before he completes his life-changing post.

   Instead, a low thrum of excited muttering fills the room, emanating from the fireplace where nearly all the pub’s early-morning patrons, and even its proprietor, have congregated. Tom has not yet bothered to set down all the chairs from their night-time perches on the tables. He's standing just behind a witch in lime-green robes who seems to be the center of the whispering crowd.

   Felix seats himself on a stool at the bar, casting surreptitious glances over at the furtive group, trying to catch snippets of their conversation. But they insist on speaking in hushed tones, as if their subject is too dangerous to be discussed at a normal volume. Felix finally catches the eye of the barman, who breaks reluctantly away and trots over.

   "You'll be wanting breakfast, then, sir?" Tom asks, his voice friendly, though he continues to shoot longing looks behind him. "It was coffee you took, in't that right?"

   "Yes, thank you," replies Felix distractedly. "Is everything alright?" He looks pointedly at the fireplace and Tom's eyes light up with the thrill of the gossip.

   "Oh, I'm afraid not," says the barman with enthusiasm. "There was another attack up at Hogwarts school last night!"

   All Felix's animated energy freezes in an instant, leaving his limbs stiff and his hand quite unable to lift the cup Tom sets in front of him.

   "You mean... someone else was petrified? I thought that was all over."

   Tom shakes his head happily. "Not petrified no. Apparently, the student was brought to St Mungo’s. The school professors weren't sure what happened, but they’re trying to keep it awful quiet. Winn," he jerks his chin over at the witch in green robes. "Was on duty and just happened to see them bring her in."

   "'Her'?" Felix asks, his throat so dry it comes out a croak. There's hundreds of students at Hogwarts, he reassures his racing heart, there's no reason for it to be -

   "The Windsong girl. You know - the Cursebreaker? Her brother's that one expelled some years back, you might remember him - Master Rosier?"

   Felix vacates his stool and stumbles over to the fireplace where the witch in lime-green robes continues to murmur under her breath to her captive audience.

   "Excuse me," he somehow manages to say.

   The witches and wizards around the fire all look up at him.

   "Did you...did you say you saw a Hogwarts student brought into St Mungo’s last night?"

   The witch called Winn nods vigorously. "Not just any Hogwarts student! Jacob Windsong's sister! The one what's been opening all them cursed vaults up at the school the last few years!" Her voice is subdued but shaking with excitement. She shuffles her chair around to face Felix, clearly pleased for an excuse to retell her story.  

   "Brought her in on my shift, they did. Thought she were dead! Pale as a corpse - like there weren't no blood left in her - but twitching, like. The way I used to see 'em back when..." She clears her throat and her eyes dart about as if searching for hidden spies, before she continues even lower than before, "Back when You-Know-Who's followers were torturing people left and right. You'd see 'em twitch like that when they'd had the Cruciatus Curse used on 'em too long."

   One of the wizards by the fire shakes his head and says something about the mad goings-on of teenagers these days, but Felix isn’t listening. He’s already moving away, lurching between tables and knocking into chairs as if drunk. Ignoring the pub patrons' affronted looks and Tom still calling to him from the bar, he trips out the front door and apparates as soon as his feet hit the pavement.

-

   Felix hasn't been to St Mungo’s since he was a child, and his current visit does nothing to improve his ill-feeling about the place. The lobby is packed, which seems strange to him for so early in the morning. The seats are full of witches and wizards tapping their feet and sighing with poorly-hidden impatience. Healers in lime-green robes walk swiftly to and fro, all headed in different directions, and the queue for the help desk is a dozen people long. There's a sign above it informing those who can read which types of maladies belong to each floor of the hospital. But, Felix realises, since he doesn't know exactly what's happened to Juniper, he has no idea where she might be.

   Blood pumps thickly in his head, making the sounds in the lobby seem oddly muffled as though he's underwater. Felix walks briskly to the information desk and brings his hand down harder than intended on top of the counter. The smacking sound has no visible effect on the bored-looking help witch beyond a quick flick of her eyes away from the hiccoughing wizard in the queue and toward Felix.

   "I'm looking for Juniper Windsong," he says, his voice shaking with some emotion he doesn't have time to identify.

   "Excuse me, sir,” the help-witch drawls tonelessly. "But if you have a question you'll need to queue up like everyone else."

   She gives a barely perceptible jerk of her chin at the line of people now glaring at Felix. One woman's entire face is a vivid shade of pink, and a small child standing with his mother seems to have steam emitting from his nostrils. But none of them appear in any immediate danger to Felix, and he turns back to the help-witch belligerently.

   "This cannot wait. Juniper Windsong. She was brought in last night."

   The help-witch blinks dubiously at him, but something in Felix's voice or face seems to convince the girl her life will be easier the sooner she gets rid of him. She drags a clipboard across the desk toward her with two fingers and glances down at it.

   "I don't have anyone by that name here," she announces, her tone still bored but a slight curl at the edge of her mouth.

   "Yes, you do! You must!" he insists, now almost shouting. Because if she's not here, then that means....

   "Mr Rosier." 

   A cold, quiet, and all too familiar voice stops Felix's rising panic in its tracks. He whips around to find Professor Snape standing by the entrance to a stairwell. "What are you-"

   "Professor!" Felix interrupts, abandoning the help desk and hurrying over to Snape.

   "Is it true?" he asks, suddenly breathless. "Juniper. Is she-"

   Before Felix can finish, Snape grips his elbow tightly and drags him into the stairwell, slamming the door shut behind them. The Potions Master casts his dark eyes around as if making sure they’re alone before answering in a crisp whisper:

    "Kindly do not bandy Miss Windsong's name about in front of so many witnesses. It is important that her presence at this hospital be kept entirely secret. Which is why,” his eyes narrow at Felix, “I must ask how you came to know she was here."

   "I - she - " Felix tries to breathe normally, but the air catches against his ribs, constricting his chest. "A healer. In the Leaky Cauldron. She...she said she saw her - Juniper - last night. She said, she was attacked. But-"

   "How do you know the person speaking was a healer?"

   Thrown by the question, Felix casts his mind back for the details of the conversation that he realizes with a lurch was not fifteen minutes ago. It feels more like hours.

    "Tom! He said she was a healer. And she had the robes, the same color green that the healers wear."

   Snape closes his eyes briefly, nostrils flaring in forceful exhalation. Felix has seen this look on the Potion Master’s face before when dealing with exceptionally dim-witted students, but whether it’s himself or the healer in question with whom Snape is exasperated he doesn’t know, or care.

   "Professor, what's happened to Juniper? Is she alright? The healer said she was attacked, but she didn't say...I mean...she wasn't sure..." Every ending Felix can think of to this sentence causes his throat to convulse.

   Snape considers before answering, his words tinged with frost. “Miss Windsong is alive for the moment."

   A flood of warm relief washes over Felix almost tangibly.

   "But," Snape continues. "she has been very gravely..." He pauses, tongue between his teeth, as if choosing his next word carefully."...Wounded."

   "Why? What happened? Is it something to do with the Vaults? Is she going to be alright?" Felix asks every question that comes to his mind all in a rush.

   Snape says nothing. He scrutinizes Felix closely, and Felix gets that uncomfortable prickle he sometimes feels around his former head of house, as though the professor can see right through him. He averts his gaze, and stares instead at his ink-stained hands.

   Snape's voice, still frigid, but not quite as icy as before, breaks the silence.

   "Follow me, Mr Rosier."

   Snape turns on his heel and ascends the staircase without a backward glance. Felix hastens to follow.

   At the fourth floor landing, Snape throws open the door and proceeds into a corridor crowded with harried healers. Felix, who cuts a much less intimidating figure than the Potions Master, has to push through the lime-green crowd forcefully in order to keep up. Snape turns down a side hall, and then another, longer one, until they reach a deserted corridor with a dirty window marking a dead-end. Snape forgoes the doors on either side, stopping instead in front of the window, daylight just peeking through the streaky glass. He taps the pane on the lower right with his wand, and Felix can hear a very soft click, like a lock being turned. The window swings inward, and Snape and Felix step quickly inside.

   The room is small, only slightly larger than the Hogwarts Artefact Room, with no windows and no other doors. There's just enough space for a solid looking bed, a rather high bedside table covered in potion bottles on one side if it, and a chair pulled up to the other. Felix can see the outline of legs tucked under a white sheet lying on the bed, but the rest of the occupant is hidden by the bulky figure in the chair, who stands quickly and revolves to face the two intruders.

   The man raises his wand directly at Felix, who flinches, though for once it has less to do with the wand itself and more to do with the heavily scarred face of the person holding it.

   "Password," the man grunts. Snape does not bother to conceal his eye-roll.

   "Dragon Heart-String,” he pronounces with very slight disdain, and the strange looking person lowers his wand a fraction. 

   All Felix’s attention is caught up in the man's one electric blue eye that swivels eerily over both newcomers, then rolls right back into his head as if checking on the patient in the bed behind him. He's so distracted by this display, Felix doesn't notice the man's other eye inspecting him suspiciously.

   "Who is this?" the man asks in a gruff voice. "I thought you were bringing back one of the trainees."

     "It seems as though the healers cannot all be trusted,” Snape replies loftily. “One is already blabbing the attack in the pub."  

    The other man swears under his breath.

   "This is...a friend of Windsong's,” Snape continues.  

   Felix isn't sure, but he thinks there's a slight pause before Snape pronounces the word 'friend', and a careful note to his words. But he's too preoccupied to give this further thought. The shock of the room's strange guardian has worn off enough for Felix's attention to return to the bed. And as the man steps toward Snape, the head on the pillow becomes visible.

   If Felix hadn't known it was supposed to be Juniper, he might not have recognised her straight away. She looks like an entirely different person from the vibrant young woman laughing and flirting with him only hours ago. It's as though all the blood has been drained from beneath her skin, leaving her as pale and lifeless as the healer in the pub described. The only part of her with any colour is the uncountable number of angry red cuts decorating her face and the visible portion of her neck and arms. She's so eerily still Felix would be terrified Snape was mistaken about her condition, if it weren't for the slight twitching of  her fingers, curled strangely and lying on either side of her.

   Bile rises in Felix's throat and he has to swallow hard to keep from being violently ill. He’s known Juniper to be injured many times before; she’s famous for it. He’s seen her battered by Devil's Snare, half-frozen to death by cursed ice, knocked about by a dragon. But his memories of those admittedly deadly injuries all include her face set in grim determination or flushed with success. Felix has never seen her like this. Broken and beaten on a hospital bed.

   "What happened to her?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

   "Tortured," the man with the strange blue eye replies matter-of-factly. "Cruciatus curse by the tremors. And the cuts are one of R's signature curses.”

   "R?" asks Felix vaguely, fumbling for anything that will keep his mind from creating a mental picture of Juniper being tortured.

   The man explains irritably as though this should be common knowledge. "R is the organisation after the vaults. They're the ones have been threatening Miss Windsong the last few years."

   "But...how could they get to her while she's at school?" questions Felix, his voice rising. "Surely, there's spells and wards set up to protect the students?"

   "Of course," Snape responds coolly from behind Felix. "But it's been well-established that the defences surrounding school grounds can be penetrated. One has to be inside the school itself for the Headmaster's greater protections to be of any effect. And Miss Windsong was found outside on the grounds. Do you have any idea why she might have been out there, Mr. Rosier?"

  Felix's knees buckle abruptly. He grabs the back of the bedside chair to keep himself from falling to the floor. If his display of weakness elicits any reaction from the other men, Felix doesn't notice. His eyes are shut tight against the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. His voice cracks as he rasps:

   "It's my fault."

   "Excuse me?" The man with the swiveling blue eye whips around to face Felix again, normal eye narrowed. His wand is still pointed aggressively, and Felix half wishes the man would just curse him.

   "I - she - was with me," Felix tries to explain, nausea churning his stomach sickly. The chair is now the only thing keeping him upright.

   "You were with her on the grounds?" the man demands, his blue eye now fixed on Felix as well. "What happened? What did you see? Who else was there?"

   "There wasn't anyone. There was...it was...just us. "

   The weight of the guilt causes something in Felix to snap. He cranes his neck around searching for the eyes of his former head of house, desperate for assurance that this isn't his fault; that Juniper isn't half-dead because of him.

   "I told her not to, Professor, I swear! She wouldn't listen, I couldn't stop her! But...everything was normal. There wasn't anything strange or-or suspicious on the grounds. I didn't - I mean, I - I thought..."

   Snape wrenches his gaze away from Felix, as if his pleading is something painful to watch. But Felix is beyond embarrassment for the moment.

   "Mr. Rosier," Snape responds, still looking decidedly anywhere but at Felix. “I am all too familiar with Miss Windsong's particularly obdurate determination to do whatever she pleases. However, I think we both know you exerted little effort to dissuade her. And it cannot be denied that you are the reason Miss Windsong was out on the grounds alone last night."

   Each of Snape’s words cuts deeply into Felix, like a mirror of the wounds decorating Juniper’s arms. All his defensiveness bleeds slowly out of him, and he sags further against the chair. 

  "If," Snape continues, "you would like to make amends for your foolishness, then perhaps you would be willing to help us now."

   "I - Yes! Of course, anything, what-"

   "At the moment, Miss Windsong appears to be under an enchantment of some kind. Discovering what exactly happened to her and who attacked her may enable us to wake her. We need to investigate, but we also need to keep a guard over her. It is not unlikely that whoever did this may return when they realize their work is unfinished."

   "I'll stay," Felix answers, a semblance of strength returning to his voice. The idea that he'll be allowed to help is entirely unexpected, but a set task goes a long way to reasserting his focus.

   The strange-eyed man looks from Felix to Snape, his face, a map of scars and craters, alight with skepticism.

   "You sure he's up to it?"

   Snape stares hard at Felix until that uncomfortable prickling begins to resurface, but Felix is determined to keep his gaze, to prove he can be trusted. 

   "I believe so," Snape answers. The other man gives Snape a disparaging look before lowering his wand to his side.

   "Fine. If anything happens to her, it'll be on your heads then." He crosses the small room in two long strides and looks back at Felix as he reaches the door.

   "You. No one is to enter this room without the password. The healers assigned to her know it, and they're the only ones I trust. Anyone else tries to get in, stun them and call for backup. Do you understand?"

   Felix nods in affirmation, not trusting himself to speak.

   "Do not take this lightly, boy. Miss Windsong's life may depend on your vigilance."

   Felix straightens with as much fortitude as he can muster. He directs his words to the man in front of him, but they’re really a promise to himself.

    "I won’t let anything happen to her."

-

Read Chapter 4 | View all stories on the Masterpost

[vemodalarna]

The sun will be guiding you

Characters: PIXAL, Zane Julien (mentioned: Nya, Cole) Ships: PIXAL/Nya (Samuraishipping), Zane/Cole (Glaciershipping) (mentioned) Word count: 2001 Description: PIXAL asks Zane about love.

i wrote this back in september to y’know. break my basically year long record of not completing fics. i wrote this in one sitting, in the middle of the night, on my phone - which, frankly, i think is becoming a trend. Ninjago came out of nowhere and has me hooked so cheers!!

-----

PIXAL was idly watching the numbers and code flash by on the screen when Zane knocked on the door. She quietly shut down the diagnostics program, disappointed in her findings; nothing was out of the ordinary. All of her systems were optimized and functioning. No mentions of a hiccup or virus anywhere. The code was flawless, like it always seemed to be.

"Come in," she called out, while swiftly but carefully pulling out the clunky cable from the left side panel on her chest, ejecting it with a soft pop . Zane sheepishly poked his head out from behind the opening of the cave, giving PIXAL a little smile.

"There you are," he sighed, an artificial sound created by his voicebank. PIXAL found it odd, but Zane had previously stated that it made him feel 'more like he belonged' - that it made it less obvious that he wasn’t organic like his family all were. "Nya's been looking for you. She said you malfunctioned and refused to let her help?"

PIXAL clenched her jaw and looked away from Zane. Shame flooded her system as she recounted the days events- a totally normal sparring fight between Nya and herself. Losing wasn’t the shameful part; it was how her body reacted to...

Shaking her head, PIXAL stood up from her chair- too fast if Zane's expression was anything to go by. Weaving around the mechanisms and machines, she quickly picked up a sweater that was lying around in the Samurai X hide-out. She didn't need to wear clothes, but she knew that it led to discomfort or flushed looks her way whenever she didn't.

"I am fine, Zane," PIXAL hummed, while pulling the sweater over her head. "You do not need to worry."

Zane frowned slightly, closing the door behind him and crossing his arms. "Forgive me for being blunt, but your powers shutting off because of a simple throw over the shoulder is not 'fine'."

"I ran a diagnostics test," she replied, her eyes drifting to the now turned off screen. "Nothing is out of the ordinary. My systems are optimized and running and I cannot detect any physical injuries that would cause me to turn off." PIXAL sat back down on the chair in front of the control panels, watching as Zane furrowed his brow and grabbing the spare chair that Nya used and placing it next to her.

"Then why did you?" Zane sat down with a soft clunk , his fans whirring softly. His blue eyes flashed, and he sat back with a concerned look on his face. "My sensors cannot indicate anything wrong. Something, however, is clearly distracting you. Your movements were less sharp than usual today."

PIXAL's fans kicked in, and she forcefully archived the wave of embarrassment she felt in her systems. Her cooling liquid rushed through her body, hurrying to lower the temperature of her core and limbs before anything fried or shut off. "Yes, Zane, I noted."

Zane didn't respond, so PIXAL took the time to sort through and analyze the memories from the sparring. Nothing was vastly different from her usual trainings. Everything was running smoothly, until she changed sparring partners to... Hm.

"Zane, how did you..." PIXAL started slowly, breaking the silence. "How did you figure out your feelings for Cole? How did you manage to define love ?"

The titanium nindroid sat up even straighter, somehow, at her question. "Ah, that is a complicated question."

PIXAL looked at Zane as his eyes flashed a darker blue and nervously scratched a hand behind his head. "Well, when did you realize you had acquired more than platonic love for him?"

"I will be fully honest with you, PIXAL," Zane chuckled, "I would have kept analyzing for decades why my systems reacted differently to him if it were not for him confessing to me first."

"What do you mean?"

"Love is very hard to define, and thus to understand. For the longest time I assumed that I would never feel romantic love," He explained, looking thoughtfully at the Samurai X suit stationed in the room. "And yet, after Yang and Stix, I found that my feelings for Cole were different compared to the others. It was not necessarily stronger or more confusing than the feelings I felt for the other in our chosen family, but. It was not the same."

Humming, PIXAL looked down at her hands. That was indeed similar to how she is currently feeling about Nya. Not worse or better, but different to how she reacts to Zane and the rest of the ninja. Stroking her hands across the soft blue fabric of the sweater (of Nya’s sweater, she realised with a start- she must’ve left it here when she last visited), her sensors tingled as the static of her fans mingled with her thoughts.

Ever since her reveal as Samurai X, Sensei Wu had recruited her for proper training. PIXAL didn't need it, as she was a nindroid - she could simply download data and put it to use without training, but Sensei Wu insisted. In usual Sensei Wu fashion, he said a probably inspirational quote, but PIXAL had a hard time picking it apart and understanding it.

PIXAL won nearly every time someone sparred against her. Analysing and predicting her opponents’ movements was something that took no energy at all; Kai was too hectic, and not planned out. Jay flails too often and can't control his strength. Cole tends to rely too much on brute force when he loses his concentration, and while Zane is the most balanced out of the bunch, he can get too caught up in the numbers to fight freely. Nya, however... Nya was the hardest to predict and beat.

Nya banters while she fights, her words smooth and knowing, yet sharp and biting. She's light on her feet despite being a sturdier and shorter build. While she mostly stays in one fighting style, she's versatile and can quickly change to defensive from offensive, and vice versa. Despite being serious in actual brawls and scenarios, Nya laughs and jokes as she spars and trains. It distracts PIXAL too much to predict her blows.

That is just what happened that day. PIXAL got distracted while analyzing a jab Nya had thrown at her, giving Nya the perfect opportunity to strike. She had grabbed PIXAL by the arm and flipped her. Nya had just laughed that loud and spontaneous laugh at her, and extended her hand to help PIXAL up.  

From PIXAL's view Nya looked like nothing PIXAL had ever seen before. Around her hair was a soft and warm glow from the sun, a halo illuminating her face and changing the black tint of the loose curly strands sticking out from her ponytail. Her deep brown eyes had sparkles in them and her soft, round flushed cheeks pushed up against them. Between her eyes, her nose was scrunched up, the way it did when Nya smiled genuinely. PIXAL found that she longed to see her this way more often, to make Nya happy and to hear her laugh. How she wished she could stay in that position and admire the woman in front of her more often.

It... It was too much information for PIXAL to handle. Warning notifications clouded her vision, her fans going haywild inside her chest and her motherload heating up. A strange feeling arose in her chest, and the last thing she saw was Nya's expression turning concerned as her systems shut down.

"In what ways was it different?" PIXAL asked curiously. “How did your attraction to Cole change… Well, your behavior?” Zane smiled at her, warm and flustered.

"I was, ah, distracted, mostly. I found myself thinking about him more. I would feel elevated yet terribly anxious whenever I was around him- which was not good for our team, by the way," Both nindroids chuckle, the unnoticed tenseness in PIXAL's shoulders melting away. "My system would generate daydreams and thoughts about him, possible what-if's that were so much more... Involved than it had ever done with the others. My fans would work in overdrive to keep my circuits from frying around him. I put so much of my energy into unwillingly noticing small details, from the cracks in his hands or the texture of his hair. Wondering and wishing about him."

PIXAL softly clenched her fist, remember how pretty Nya was under the sun, and how she had an undeniable need to remember everything about that moment.

"So when he admitted to having... Romantic feelings- you understood what it was that you felt?"

"No, not exactly," Zane grinned at PIXAL's confused face. "I understood that I, too, felt a romantic need to be with him, but I never could, nor have defined love. I still get warnings and emotions that I cannot compute properly or solve. The important difference, however, is that I know the source, and it makes the whole experience easier to pick apart and understand."

Nodding, PIXAL subconsciously opened up her memories. How many are there of her not understanding the signals her systems and body are giving her? How many feature Nya, with her smiles and laughter and wild hjinks and theories that leave PIXAL speechless and bewildered every time? How many memories has she purposefully archived, because they were not memories at all; rather figments of her imagination, puzzling together fantasies of the two together, or of obscure details featuring Nya? PIXAL simply didn't know.

“I do not know if I am capable of loving someone,” PIXAL admitted, her voicebank rumbling quietly. “I do not believe that is in my programming. In the very least not romantic love.”

“And I doubt it is in mine,” Zane chuckled. “Yet, I found that I had fallen for Cole. You are the only one who can find out whether or not you are able to love, PIXAL. And if you aren’t capable of romantic love, you are clearly capable of platonic love.”

"If I were to hypothetically catch these feelings- romantic feelings - for someone," she unsurely spoke, feeling her eyes flash pink and her cooling liquid circulating. Warnings popped up in the corner of her eye how her sensors were overloading slightly. "What would be the best course of action?"

"That depends from person to person," Zane nodded, clasping his fingers together with a click. "What would hypothetically work best for you and your counterpart? What is your raw, unfiltered instinct? Consider before you do anything, but do not overanalyze. You will only get stuck in the numbers and analytics of it all- and those are not to be trusted when it comes to things such as love. They are usually unreliable, since love is an unpredictable phenomenon."

Frowning slightly, PIXAL made a mental note to save this for future use.

"I must go," Zane stated, sheepishly standing up and moving his chair out of the way. "The chicken I am roasting will soon be done. If you wish, I will let you know once dinner is ready."

"I do not eat."

"No, but good company truly never hurts." His footsteps echoed along with his words as he wandered towards the cave entrance.

"Thank you, Zane," PIXAL called out, successfully stopping Zane in his tracks and making him look over his shoulder. "For everything."

"It is no problem," he smiled and resumed his walking. "Good luck with Nya!" he called out right before stepping outside the cave and closing the door, ignoring PIXAL’s offended yelp and giving a clear chuckle in the distance.

Embarrassed but satisfied, PIXAL busied herself with cleaning up the cables she used for her diagnostics check. Nya’s shirt hung around her shoulders, it’s shape too short for her chest but yet too big to sit snuggly. PIXAL found that she didn’t wish for it to fit any other way. The soft blue contrasted well with the purple electric veins that adorned her arms, the color family intermingling aesthetically. Smiling, she decided that was more than enough talk for one day.

[totallycorrectpmdquotes]

Backfire? OwO

Backfire uwu

(Chapter 1)

Uxie’s powers aren’t just limited to his lake, and affect all memories which could be traced back to the Time Gears. It’s easy to imagine the mental catastrophe this could cause in the mind of someone who’s spent nearly their entire life looking into them. In his defense, Uxie was really mad at Grovyle.

-

2.

The chairs in Officer Magnezone’sstation were stumps that had been cut for Pokémon much smaller than Dusknoirwas. Still, he grabbed one, set it down outside the cell Grovyle had beentossed in, and settled down to wait.

The hallway with cells wasnothing like the stockade Grovyle and Breanna should be in right now. It lackedthe proper atmosphere of crushing dread and was far too bright. When Grovyleawoke, he might still have hope of escape – although, if Uxie was to bebelieved, it would still be several hours before they had to worry about that.Dusknoir had been unwilling to admit he wasn’t entirely sure how long an hourwas, and he refused to take any chances. While the legendary trio went toreport their victory to the townsfolk, he did his best to make himselfcomfortable in his self-imposed guard duty.

He’d never liked guard duty.

When he had first joined MasterDialga’s ranks, there had been an abundance of pointless little rebellions.Irritating as they were, humans were persistent. When time had frozen, they hadcreated ways to grow their crops despite it and continued as if nothing hadchanged. But survival was never enough for them, and when one man stumbledacross ancient information on the Time Gears, the humans had stood with him anddecided they had a right to destroy everyone’s lives. They brainwashedthe Pokémon who weren’t smart enough to flee their insanity into acting asfirepower and set out to end the world.

Dusknoir had leant his strengthto Master Dialga as soon as he could. With his team, they had captured so manyof the morons who thought history owed them something. Afterwards, theywould have to guard them while the execution chambers were being prepared.Dusknoir could still hear so many voices in his ears that echoed faintly and promisedthat there was a way to save them, to save everyone, if they’d just letme go, please, I can help you.

There was a face in the knots ofthe wood that made up the prison floor that looked like a concerned human man.

Dusknoir jumped and drove hisfist into the image. Shards of ice curled through the gaps in the wood as itsplintered. Dusknoir waited several long moments before he pulled his fistback. His breath came in heavy, shallow gasps that shook his whole body.

The x-eye seed should be out ofhis system by now. He shouldn’t still be seeing false faces everywhere helooked. Dusknoir pulled a sliver from one of his knuckles and turned back toGrovyle’s cell.

He’d shifted in his sleep and hadhis newly-bound hands pressed against the side of his head. His face wascontorted in pain, and his breathing was much more ragged than Dusknoir’s. Helooked pitiful.

Dusknoir scowled and turned away.He pulled the remaining slivers from his hand and kept one eye on the crumbledpatch of wood. There was no hint of the face he had seen.

He looked up at the sound offamiliar footsteps. “Have they finished?”

The sableye gave a short nod anda nervous laugh. “The bird and pink one want to talk to you.”

“The what? ”

Dusknoir nearly wrapped his handaround the sableye’s throat. Instead, he stuffed his anger away and tried tolook pleasant as he focused on the small form poking her head around thecorner. “Ah, Miss Vulpix. You’re looking well.”

The human-turned-vulpix lookedgenuinely horrible. Breanna had dark circles around her eyes which stood outdespite her short fur. There was still a notch in her right ear from the fightwith Grovyle, as well as several bandages across her chest and front legs. Oneof her tails was still scarred with an electrical burn from the misadventure inAmp Plains.

Breanna frowned. “…Thanks.” Shepointed a paw at the sableye. “Was your friend talking about the Guildmaster?”

“I believe so,” Dusknoir saidevenly. He held a particularly large wooden shard between two fingers andsnapped it in front of the sableye’s face. “You’ll have to excuse him, he wasraised in a mystery dungeon. He doesn’t mean to be rude.”

Breanna tipped her head to theside, and the curled tufts of fur atop her head bounced against her ears. “Ithought mystery dungeons were caused because time was out of balance – whywouldn’t putting the Time Gears back fix that?”

Dusknoir clenched his fisttighter, and the sableye gave another nervous laugh. “There are some questionseven I can not answer. I have theories, but no facts to back them.” He forced asmile, “Perhaps you and your guildmates will find those yourselves, one day.”

Breanna shuffled and focused onher paws. “Maybe,” she said. Her fur fluffed out, and she looked back up. “Uxietook away Grovyle’s memory.”

Oh, Dusknoir recognized thattone. He hated where this was going. “He did, yes.”

She glanced at the sableye andtook a long breath in. “So, he’s like me now?”

“That is not a comparison I wouldmake,” Dusknoir said. “You are a good person. He is still a criminal who nearlykilled you and your friend.” He put on a look of concern, “How is your partner?Have his injuries healed at all?”

Breanna huffed. “That’s not thepoint.” She shuffled again, still clearly nervous. “D- Riolu’s fine. He’s fine.We’re both fine.” She looked up and focused on Dusknoir with a hard stare. “Iwant to talk to Grovyle.”

“No,” Dusknoir saidautomatically, “absolutely not.”

She growled. It was adorable.“Why not?!”

“Among other reasons, he is stillunconscious. It’ll be a few hours still before he wakes.” Dusknoir said, “Beyondthat, and please believe me when I say this comes from a place of genuineconcern, he nearly killed you. I cannot leave you alone with him in goodconscience.” Especially while there was still a chance he remembered her.

She huffed once again, and Breannapadded over to his side. She sat down between him and the sableye, her furstill fluffed out as she looked up at him with familiar eyes. “Then I’m notleaving you alone with him, either.”

Dusknoir broke eye contact andhoped his flinch was subtle enough. The x-eye seed should be out of his systemby now. This didn’t make any sense. “If you insist,” he said. Thesableye laughed nervously once again.

For several minutes Dusknoir satstock-still, and a human-turned-Pokémon with a dead man haunting her expressionleaned against him. He refused to look her way. He refused to focus on anypatch of wood for more than a few seconds. This shouldn’t still behappening.

He didn’t even really know what washappening.

The abrupt end to the sableye’slaugh alongside the approach of hopping footsteps brought an end to the briefpeace, and Dusknoir forced away his moment of weakness. He glanced down at thesableye, who was focused on Breanna. She’d pulled away from Dusknoir and turnedto watch Grovyle. His breathing was rough again, and he trembled in his sleep.Breanna took a small step closer to the bars.

Dusknoir placed a hand on hershoulders and gently turned her back around.

Chatot, Wigglytuff, a Magnetonofficer, and finally the lake trio turned the corner to join the group.Dusknoir barely withheld his scowl. Chatot took one look at Breanna andsquawked.

“Vulpix!” He said, “Get away fromthat cell!” He flew over, landed between her and the sableye, and startedtrying to shoo her away from the bars. “My apologies, Dusknoir, sir. Thisimpudent child was told to stay in her room and rest.”

“It’s quite alright,” Dusknoirsaid, forcefully casual. Breanna fluffed up her fur and sidestepped away fromChatot. She gave Dusknoir the same hauntingly familiar look she had before asshe moved to join the larger group.

“Is it?” Mesprit asked and made asmall gesture to draw her brothers’ attention to the damaged part of the floor.

Dusknoir, very slowly, droppedthe slivers of wood he was still holding and floated off of his seat. “Ofcourse. She was merely worried, don’t fault the girl for that.” He turned toWigglytuff, who’d been watching them with an… unreadable expression. “Have youbeen fully informed of the situation?”

Wigglytuff hummed and skippedover to Dusknoir’s side, slipping in between him and the sableye. Grovyle hadcalmed down somewhat, and once again looked pitiful. “A bit, but just thatmuch! He hurt my friends, and I want to make sure he won’t do it again.” He turnedaround and looked down at Breanna. “Did your partner follow you, my dearfriendly-friend?”

Breanna’s fluffed up fur fellflat, her ears drooped, and she tucked her tails between her legs. “…Maybe.”

Chatot squawked, offended. “Hiscondition is worse than yours! What were the two of you thinking? Where ishe?!”

The floorboards creaked, and twounfortunately familiar faces poked their heads around the corner. Dusknoircouldn’t help but smile; these unobservant fools had walked right pastBreanna’s partner and their bidoof guildmate. That could have been an ambush.They could have been killed.

“Riolu!” Chatot squawked andfluttered over to the other heavily bandaged Pokémon. “You were confined toyour room for a reason, young man! And Bidoof, they are your juniors! Youshould have known better! What were you thinking? Go back to the guild, theGuildmaster and I will be having strong words with the three of you when wereturn!”

Bidoof pulled back. Riolu, whowas using him as a crutch, nearly fell on his face. “W-well gee, golly sir,”Bidoof rambled, “I didn’t realize this was so severe. And, ya see, they weremighty worried about the great Dusknoir.”

“Please don’t put yourself indanger on my account,” Dusknoir said.

“A ladder and some stairs are not‘danger,’” Breanna said.

Azelf raised a hand. “I’d likethem to stay if it’s not too much trouble.” He smiled at Riolu, who still had aheavy patch of gauze on the wound on his throat. “We don’t want to do this ifit’s too much for you.”

“Do what, dear friends?” Wigglytuffasked, humming again as he rocked on his heels. He was still watching Grovyle.“In the meeting, all you said was that all his memories were gone and he’d bestaying in this time for now.”

“Not all his memories are gone,”Uxie said as Breanna opened her mouth. “I could only take away those involvingthe Time Gears. However, those were most of them.” He glanced at Mesprit andAzelf, who nodded in sync. “From the amount I took from him, and how freshthose memories were, it’s likely he was forced into this life of crime as achild. It’s unfortunate, but curious – I’m sure you understand how strange thismystery is. Why would a child spend years on a quest to paralyse the planet? Ifsomeone else set him on this path, then we may have a bigger problem on ourhands.”

“Wait,” Breanna said. She turnedto Dusknoir with a frown. “Was Grovyle working with anyone?”

A weaker man would have laughedat the irony. Instead, Dusknoir simply shook his head and lied. “Aside from thePokémon he enlisted to bring him to your time, no. I have associates dealingwith her in my own time. She isn’t a threat to any of you.”

The sableye gave yet anothernervous chuckle. When he caught sight of Dusknoir’s disapproving frown, hecoughed.

“And besides that,” Mesprit spokeup, “we’re now dealing with a young man who has no idea what he nearly did. Youcan see why we’d have a bit of an issue with just sending him back to thefuture for trial.”

Now that was somethingDusknoir nearly laughed at. The idea of Master Dialga leaving his tower tojudge a trial was simply too amusing of an image. The lake trio finishedrunning over the previous night’s argument and let Azelf have the last word.

“Given the circumstances,Dusknoir suggested that your guild lead the investigation into how thishappened.” Dusknoir pointedly ignored the shocked expression on Chatot’s face.“And my siblings and I agree. If anyone can uncover this mystery, it would bethe Wigglytuff Guild.”

“No,” Chatot said, “absolutelynot! We will not put our apprentices at risk like this! He’s already nearlykilled two of them, I will not allow the others to be put in this level ofdanger.”

Wigglytuff hummed louder. “Idon’t know… Chatot is right. He hurt a lot of people. But this is reallysad.” He frowned and looked at his associate with wide eyes. “I don’t want himto be alone.”

“Guildmaster,” Chatot said, “thisis far too dangerous. You can’t agree to this.”

“Don’t we get a say?”

Riolu’s voice was still quiet,hoarse, and raw. He sounded horrible and winced with every few words. Breannahurried over to his side and pressed up against him.

“Dusk - Riolu,” she winced andcontinued, louder, as if that would get everyone to ignore her social taboo.“Is right. We’re the ones he hurt. We should get an opinion.”

Wigglytuff clapped. “Yes! Youshould! What do you think, Team Relic?”

Riolu swallowed and glanced downat Breanna. She replied with a determined nod, and they both turned back toWigglytuff. He took a long breath in, “If he doesn’t remember being a bad Pokémon,we should help him.”

Dusknoir’s heart hammered andplunged from his chest. “Pardon me?” Something was wrong. Breanna shouldn’t besupporting this.

“We should give him a chance,”Breanna added. “Right now, he’s not a good person or a bad person – but he willbe a scared person. He’ll know something’s missing, and he’ll want tofind out what it is. We don’t have to tell him he’s a criminal. We can just lethim be Grovyle.”

“I – I think you may havemisunderstood,” Dusknoir said, and held up a hand. Breanna had total amnesia -she shouldn’t have any attachment to Grovyle. “Just his memories of theTime Gears are gone. He is not entirely amnesiac. He may still be a threat toyou all. Honestly, the safest option would be to simply let me take him back tothe future.”

Wigglytuff whistled a brief tune.“But we could just let him be Grovyle.” He clapped again, “This soundsexciting! Let’s make him a room!”

“Guildmaster!” Chatot said, “Youcan’t be serious! Shouldn’t you at least take some time to think about it?”

“Oh, I did!” Wigglytuff replied,“I thought about it lots while everyone was talking, and I decided that Guildshelp Pokémon in need. Besides, Team Relic also wants to help. They’ll havesomething to do when they’re resting at the guild all day besides sentry duty –doesn’t that sound great?”

Chatot opened his beak, gaveWigglytuff a curious look, and then nodded. “Right, then.” He turned to thesilent Magneton officer, “Tell the rest of your unit what we’ve decided,please. The Guildmaster and I will go set up a room for him. Vulpix, Riolu, Ipresume you’ll need some assistance making your way up the stairs?”

“Bidoof can help us,” Breannasaid, a bit harsher than necessary as the magneton quietly left the room.

“I’m sure,” Chatot said dully.Wigglytuff raced past him as he began to direct the others out of the hall.

“We should be getting back to ourlakes,” Azelf said, “And return the other Time Gears as well.”

Uxie sighed. “I suppose we’ll seeeach other during the next apocalyptic disaster, then?”

Mesprit threw her arms around theother two’s shoulders. “Well, I’m not ready to give up on family time just yet.There’s a cute little café just outside of town, let’s go get some brunch.” Sheturned to Dusknoir, “You should join us! They had a sign out front advertisingpurple gummi juice.”

Dusknoir sat back down and gavethe trio a neutral look. “I appreciate the offer. However, I must stay here.Amnesia or not, I can’t simply leave him unguarded.”

The three of them frowned at him.“We’ll bring you one back before we leave, then.” Azelf said, and with one moreuncomfortably long look Dusknoir’s way, they left as well.

Dusknoir took a long breath inand counted to twenty-five. He let the breath out. The sableye chuckleduncomfortably and inched away from him.

Dusknoir lunged for his lackeyand pulled him close. “Let me be perfectly clear,” he hissed, “not one word ofthis exchange reaches the ears of your brothers or anyone in our future. As faras any of you are concerned, we are staying due to complications with thedimensional hole. Is this understood?”

The sableye nodded. “Y-yes! Yes,I -”

A low, disappointed voice cutthrough the sableye’s and drowned out his words. Dusknoir could feel the breathon the back of his neck. “Murderer.”

Dusknoir dropped the sableye andwhipped around. He stared down the empty hallway.

“Master Dusknoir?” The sableyeasked, “is something wrong?”

Dusknoir waved him off. “Returnto your post,” he said.

The sableye backed up andhesitated for several seconds too long before he scurried away.

Dusknoir scowled and put his headin his hands. “This is getting ridiculous,” he groaned and glanced back atGrovyle. He was twitching once again. “What in Dialga’s name did you attack mewith?”

“Murderer,” the empty hallwhispered again, and Dusknoir shuddered.

“It’s the wind,” he said with ascowl. “It makes horribly irritating noises in this time. I don’t know how I’msupposed to enjoy history with it always whispering like that.” He turned backaround. For a breath, there was the image of a human man in front of him, fullydressed in the regalia of Primal Dialga’s army. A dark cloud of shadows wrappedaround his lower ribcage, obscuring any injuries. He raised a hand.

Dusknoir dared to blink, and theimage was gone.

In the cell behind him, Grovylegave a high-pitched wheeze that almost sounded like a scream.

.-.

Chatot didn’t need theGuildmaster’s subtle but pointed ear twitch to tell him to stay; he’d plannedto do so anyway. Wigglytuff hurried the younger three back up towards theGuild, he stayed by the station. The timing was quite convenient: when theywere far enough down the road that they were out of earshot, Uxie and hissiblings exited the building. They nodded to Chatot.

“Grovyle had a bag of items onhim,” he said, “what happened to it?”

Azelf pulled a smaller, nearlyworn-through treasure bag from his own. He held it up to Uxie, who carefullyremoved the four Time Gears from a side pocket before his brother handed it toChatot. “Be careful, we haven’t had a chance to check it for traps.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thankyou.” He took the bag and gave it a brief examination. There was a pocket onthe inside which was clearly supposed to be a secret, a surplus of reviverseeds and other healing items, and several orbs meant to assist monster houses.The truly odd part was how familiar the contents were to those carried by TeamRelic. While there were more food-based items, which was common enough whentraveling alone, the ratios and sorting were otherwise nearly identical to TeamRelic’s treasure bag.

Chatot dismissed the strangenessand returned his attention to the lake guardians. “The Guildmaster and I wantedto ask you about the great Dusknoir. He seems…” he took a moment and struggledto find the right word. “…unwell.”

“We’ve noticed,” Mesprit saidsoftly. “He was hit with an X-eye seed during the fight, and he’s been having abad reaction to it. We’re not sure why the effects haven’t worn off by now.”

“He’s still troubled by whateverhe hallucinated,” Uxie added. He gave a deep frown as Azelf glanced over hisshoulder. “Frightened, even. We’re worried about him. He’s been acting like adifferent person.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine in time,”Chatot said. He adjusted the strap on Grovyle’s bag so it would fit his smallerform. “However, I’ll pass that along to the Guildmaster. He’ll be able toarrange something so our medical officer can check on him.”

The three relaxed. “Thank you,”Uxie said, “you should talk to that sableye as well. There’s six of them total,and he said they’re associates from his time. They might be able to helpidentify what’s upsetting him.”

“That’s useful, I appreciate it.”He flapped his wings and slung the bag over a shoulder. “Will you be departingsoon? It’s a long way back to your lakes.”

“Unfortunately,” Azelf sighed.“We’ll have to contact the guardians from where the other two were taken, andthe sixth one as well. It’s worrying that we haven’t heard anything from any ofthem.”

“Well, I wish you the best ofluck.” Chatot said cordially, “I trust you will keep myself and the Guildmasterupdated in case there are any other noteworthy events?”

“Of course!” Mesprit said, “Aslong as you’re willing to do the same for us. I know it’s a bit of a journey,but I’d be willing to teleport any messenger back to town.”

Her brothers nodded. “I’d do thesame since mine’s the farthest out,” Uxie said. “Azelf?”

“Of course!” Azelf said, “and ifDusknoir’s, well, condition worsens we’d appreciate if you sent one soonerrather than later.”

“I give you my word,” Chatotsaid, and gave his goodbyes. The trio continued towards the crossroads, and hetook to the sky and back to the Guild. He passed by the Guildmaster, stillhelping the injured teammates up the hill, and landed beside the sentry grate.One of the bag’s straps pinched his feathers, and he craned his neck to adjustit. As he did, he caught sight of something.

There was a small patch onGrovyle’s bag, on the same side as the supposedly secret pocket, which wascompletely worn through. In it, Chatot could see a few bound pieces ofparchment. With a significant amount of difficulty, he maneuvered them out andinto his wings. They were held together with a few braided strands of a ratherplain string, which he barely noticed slip out of his feathers.

The first was a simple, grayscalemap. It had the location of every Time Gear and several other dungeons marked –including the Beach Cave. Curious.

The second was what appeared tobe a reference sheet between footprint ruins and some sort elaborately curvylanguage. The third was another reference sheet, this one between what appearedto be the Pokémon Unown and that curvy language once again. Finally, there wasthe fourth – this was a letter, written in the curvature.

Chatot tapped his foot on thegrate and shuffled between the four pieces of paper once again. “Fascinating.Absolutely fascinating.” The Guildmaster would love to see this. He wentto rewrap the string, which was no longer in his hand, and frowned. He glanceddown as a gust ruffled his feathers, picked up the string, and dropped it rightdown the sentry grate.

Chatot huffed. “Very well then,”he rerolled the parchments and returned them to their pocket. It was a simplepiece of string; it wasn’t like one of the worst thieves the continent had everseen would miss it.

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

An Unlikely Match-Oberyn Martell Imagine

Requested: No

Warnings: Fluff and some sensuality

  Being a noble woman in Westeros was quite simple: be polite, be pretty, be smart but not smarter than the men in the room, get a good match, and give the husband a son to carry on the house name. Sure, there were some complications in a noble Westerosi woman’s life but so far I had none. This was one of the few perks that came with being the youngest daughter in my house. My older sisters got most of my parents’ attention since they needed to be married off to ideal men and my two older brothers were a close second in receiving attention since they needed to be groomed into great fighters and noble men as well. This gave me a lot of leeway to do what I wanted to do: travel and read. By my eighteenth nameday, I had seen most of the known world since my parents’ only concerns for me while I was traveling was whether or not I had enough money and a sizable envoy. Sure, I attended the balls, parties, and weddings I was required to and behaved like a proper lady, but getting married and having children was the furthest thing from my mind. All this changed as soon as Margaery barged into my quarters that Cersei alloted me for my stay for the royal wedding.

    “A match has been made!” she exclaimed in a secretive tone.

    I jumped up and snapped my attention to the future queen of Westeros. She was wearing another one of her more revealing dresses and her brown hair was braided in the stylish Southern fashion. The familiar twinkle in her green eyes made my stomach clench just as it used to when we were kids.

    “For whom?” I asked, closing my book.

    Margaery raised her eyebrows and closed the door behind her. “For you!”

    “Me? That’s preposterous, my father would never----”

    “He just finished arranging the details. One of my handmaidens was on duty in his quarters and heard the whole thing!”

    My throat suddenly felt dry as the realization that I was going to be married dawned on me. So many emotions rushed through me before I finally settled on one: genuine confusion.

   “She must have heard wrong. No one in King’s Landing for the wedding has shown any interest in me, lest of all interest in marriage.”

    Margaery glided over to me and sat down in the chair across from mine, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “Well, you must have made quite the impression on the Viper.”

   My eyes widened as I continued staring at my best friend. “Oberyn...Martell wants to marry me?”

   “If you keep speaking like this, I’m going to start doubting your intelligence, Y/N,” Margaery said.

   “I am sorry, but this is a lot to take in.” I set my book on the table and bit my lip. “It kind of makes sense: Melia, Haeden, and Josa are all married and having children, and my brothers are excelling in their training. My mother is quite fond of the Dornish wine and my brothers would benefit from training with Dornishmen. But, surely someone else must have caught the Prince’s eye besides me----just look at Ellaria.”

   “Hey,” Margaery reached out and grabbed my hand, “do not dare speak of yourself like that. You are one of the most beautiful women in all of Westeros, especially in comparison with the pigs around here.”

   I covered my laugh with my other hand. “Don’t say such awful things!”

  “I am just saying the truth. You are extremely smart and well-traveled so that must make you interesting,” Margaery said.

   “Thank you, Margaery, but it still confuses me that he would ask for my hand when we only spoke once.”

   “You must have put him under your spell.” Margaery sat up with the smuggest of expressions on her face. “I knew some of me would rub off on you.”

   “I did not seduce him!” I gasped. “We just spoke about our travels and the things we’ve both seen, but that hardly entails marriage.”

   “A thousand girls all over Westeros would kill to be in your position. There are songs about how good the Dornish are in bed, especially Oberyn.”

    My face burned up as I thought of that part of what the Dornish were famous for. My older siblings were all much too eager to tell me about their own experiences in that area. My sisters made it sound painful and weird while my brothers presented it as some sort of competition as they compared conquests. On one hand, the pain made me anxious and on the other, I did not want Oberyn comparing me to any of his other lovers or his paramour. 

   “Why do I have to get married anyway? Why can’t I travel and see the world?”

   “Marriage isn’t a bad thing, Y/N, there are other perks to it besides what happens behind closed doors. There is love, respect, and unique opportunities you cannot get while single,” Margaery said. “And it will be like we always imagined when we were little girls! We’ll be getting married at the same time and then having babies together! You’ll be able to visit me and Joffrey more often because Dorne isn’t too far off.”

   I tried not to bristle too much when Margaery mentioned her future husband’s name, but she did have a point. Perhaps there was nothing too awful about having a match made for me. He was just so much older than me.

   The following day, I was unable to avoid Oberyn as I was walking with Margaery and Sansa in the gardens. He walked right over to us with all the confidence in the world.

   “Hello, Prince Oberyn,” Margaery said with a slight curtsy. 

   “Hello, Lady Margaery, Lady Sansa, Lady Y/N,” he replied with a bow.

   Sansa and I curtsied as well. From the corner of my eye, I thought the Northerner had shot me a sly look. Perhaps Margaery had informed all our friends of the match.

   “To what do we owe the pleasure?” Margaery asked.

   “I came to ask Lady Y/N if she would like to take a walk with me,” Oberyn said.

   “The pleasure would be all mine, Prince Oberyn,” I said.

    It wasn’t as though I could outright reject the man who’d asked for my hand----the walls had eyes and ears and the less negative things that were said about me, the better.

   Margaery and Sansa both gave me sly looks as I placed my hand on Prince Oberyn’s arm and we walked away from them. My heart started racing when he placed his hand on top of mine. I shouldn’t be reacting this way since I hardly knew the man. My reaction had to be out of anxiousness.

   “I assume that your parents told you about the match,” Oberyn said.

   “Yes, they did, this morning. They are both extremely pleased with it,” I said.

   Please was certainly not the right word to describe how my parents behaved at breakfast, ecstatic was more like it. Mother could hardly contain herself since she was so proud that her youngest daughter was getting married off and Father had to stop himself from speaking of the benefits. However, I smiled and spoke with Margaery a little about the wedding arrangements. She thought that I should have it in Highgarden while I thought that I should have it closer to home, which was not far from Highgarden anyway. Then, Father mentioned that Oberyn would probably want to get married in Dorne since I would be living there.

   “I am glad that your parents approve of our match, but how do you feel about it?” Oberyn asked.

   “I am flattered that you decided to marry me out of all the girls you had to choose from.” 

   “Is that all? I do not want you to be unhappy in our union. You may speak freely with me.”

   I looked up into the warmest brown eyes I’d ever seen. He seemed trustworthy and I was good at detecting these kinds of things. “Part of me wishes that I’d had a say in the match, but I suppose I have been expecting it since my thirteenth nameday. My match could have certainly been worse.”    Oberyn chuckled and I placed my hand over my mouth.

   “I am so sorry, Prince Oberyn, I did not mean to speak so---”

   “It is fine, Lady Y/N, and when we are alone, please call me Oberyn, you don’t have to be so formal.”

   I smiled nervously. “Oh, thank you, Oberyn.” I paused to admire the colorful flowers sprouting from all over the garden. “These gardens must be the best part of living in King’s Landing.” 

   “These gardens are fine, but I have seen much better.”

   “Oh? Where?”

   “In Essos. I went there a few moons ago and they have some of the most fantastic flowers I have ever seen.” Oberyn stopped and I turned to face him. “There was one flower that bloomed only when the moon was full. The natives said that it was because that flower was made of moonlight and it was a brilliant silver with a blood red center. It is one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen.”

   “I have always wanted to go to Essos, but my parents do not think it is very safe for me.”

   “It is no place for a woman like you, Lady Y/N. There are many thieves, pirates, and slavetraders who would draw you into a world of trouble.”

   “Why does everyone assume that I cannot take care of myself?”

   Oberyn smirked. “I do not mean any offense by this, Y/N, but people who spend more time with their noses in books usually cannot hold their own in a battle.”

   “That’s a horrible assumption!”

   “Then tell me, are you good with a sword?”

    I hesitated and Oberyn laughed before we carried on walking through the gardens. “Though I am not good with a sword, I do far more than read books----I travel.”

   “And to where have you traveled?”

    “I’ve seen all of what is known of Westeros and even went up north to see the Wall. It was a bit of a shame I could not see the Men of the Night’s Watch----I wanted to thank them for protecting all of us.” I smirked. “I must say, I have always been curious as to what lies beyond the wall, but I have always been curious, I suppose that’s why I read books and travel, but I’m never satisfied.”

     “Well, I am glad you did not see the Men of the Night’s Watch----they wouldn’t have been able to control themselves around you.”

     I glanced down at my feet to hide my burning cheeks. “Oberyn, you shouldn’t say such things.”

    “I only speak the truth, my dear.”

     I looked up at Oberyn. “Then tell me, why do you want to marry me? We only spoke once and simply speaking of the different merchants in south Westeros is hardly enough to ask for a marriage.”

     Oberyn smiled to himself and stared me in my eyes. “You do not know how capitvating you are, Lady Y/N. You may try to hide it behind those books and by escaping to new places, but I saw it. It is well-known that House Y/H/N boasts beautiful daughters, but you are the most exquisite thing I have ever seen. When we were introduced, I knew I had to have you. Behind that innocence, is a clever tongue that can bite when it wants to and I knew that I could not let you get away from me.”

     Oberyn had managed to be both seductive and romantic at the same time. Butterflies fluttered in the pit of my stomach and I had to keep myself from giggling. Men had tried to flirt with me before but none were as smooth as Oberyn.

     “That is extremely kind of you, Oberyn, but I thought with...with your reputation, you would want someone more like Ellaria,” I said, hoping that I was not speaking out of turn.

    Oberyn moved a piece of y/h/c hair out of my face and looked at me fondly. “I find your innocence refreshing. It will be good to know that I will not have to waste time teaching you the correct way to experience pleasure.”

    “Oberyn,” I gasped.

     “You will get used to my boldness soon, Y/N.”     We paused yet again, but this time, Oberyn pulled me close and kissed me. His lips tasted of wine and I felt myself getting a bit light-headed as I kissed back. He was agressive as he grabbed my face to pull me closer and I placed my hands on his chest. 

    “Oberyn, what if someone sees?”

    “All they will see is how attracted I am to my future wife.”

    As we kissed again, all I could think of was how this arrangement may be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Chapter 53

Oy, finally I get around to posting this chapter on here. I feel like this one sucked my life essence away from me, but oh well it still has some really good moments to it so I digress. Either way, hope ya enjoy this massive nerd fest, filled with references to things I don’t understand as well as jokes making fun of all of us for reading/writing UF. Have fun!

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/173944483439/universe-falls-chapter-51

Chapter 53: Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons

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Though several days had passed since the portal’s opening had effectively raised the Mystery Shack and damaged it’s interior and exterior immensely, the tourist trap was still closed for repairs that were at last nearing their completion. Even so, its continued closure gave the Pines family a good enough excuse to take a day off and spend it however they pleased, which meant that it was being used for some proper rest and relaxation. Things that were more than welcome after the upheaval and drama of the past few days alone.

So Stan, Mabel, and Dipper had taken to hanging around the otherwise unoccupied gift shop, knowing that no business would be coming through it. While Dipper intently read journal 2 and Stan broadly leafed through the newspaper, Mabel lay sprawled on the floor, an empty bag of cheesy snacks by her side and the orange dust of their remains smeared across her face.

“I just ate an entire bag of Cheese Boodles without using my hands!” she announced with a wide, contented grin. “Lazy Tuesday, you are delivering in a big way! Almost makes me forget about all that crazy drama with the portal, and the Gems memories, and Sardonyx, and-” Mabel stopped short as she briefly glanced over at Dipper, who peered over the top of the journal to give her a staunch look of disapproval for even bringing such tension-ridden matters at all. Fortunately enough though, Stan didn’t bother to comment on any of them, despite the look of concern that briefly flashed across his face before he spoke up.

“Heh, yeah,” the conman reclined back in his seat with a casual enough smile. “Its nice to finally have a day where nothing interesting happens whatsoever.”

Of course, no sooner had Stan said this than the vending machine door leading to the portal room in the basement suddenly burst open. Ford boldly stepped out of it amidst the smoke pouring out around him, his manner fierce and resilient as he tried to subdue the small, strange, octopus like creature entangled around his wrist.

“Get down!” the author ordered above the startled gasps of his family members, especially as the creature launched itself off his arm. “Don’t let it taste human flesh!”

The kids were quick to comply, narrowly dodging the bizarre creature as it scurried around the gift shop frantically, angrily hissing all the while. “W-what is it?” Dipper asked as he climbed onto a chair, both alarmed and curious by such a strange sight.

“Can we keep it?” Mabel asked with a genuinely fascinated grin.

“Kill it! Kill it!” Stan shouted, swatting the monster with his newspaper as it skittered past him.

Ford paid none of them much mind as he deftly pursued the creature, electricity sparking from the futuristic gauntlet on his right hand as he finally managed to corner the beast. “Patience… and…” the author muttered, his movements slow and calculated as he made his approach on the still-growling monster. When it finally seemed like the monster was about to make a move, however, Ford countered it first, pouncing at the beast and easily shocking it into submission using his gauntlet. “Gotcha!” he proclaimed with a triumphant grin as he held the monster’s limp, tentacled form up for the others to see. “Haha! Now that I’m back in this dimension, I’ll have to thank Garnet for inspiring the design of the design of my electro-gauntlet. It works even better than I expected it to!”

“Great, now get that thing outta here,” Stan remarked with an impatient scowl as Ford passed him. “It smells like if death could barf.”

“Wait! Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper hurried up to the author with an eager smile, still holding onto journal 2. “Do you need any help with that? I’ve read all about these creatures in your journal and I think I know how to-”

“No!” Ford quickly interupted, his manner firm but fair as he addressed his nephew. “I’m sorry, Dipper, but the weird, dark road I travel, I’m afraid you cannot follow.” A beat of stark, rather ominous silence followed this, though the author was quick to break it a moment later with an upbeat smile as he retreated back into the basement. “Well, call me for dinner!”

“Oh, maybe next time then?” Dipper offered, though his smile quickly faltered as the vending machine closed up once more, Ford disappearing behind it. “O-or not. Or never…”

“Aw, Dipper, don’t take it so hard,” Mabel attempted to comfort her brother by placing a hand on his shoulder, only for Stan to callously interject.

“No, do take it hard!” the conman snapped coldly. “Take it hard and serious. My brother is a dangerous know-it-all, and the stuff he’s messing with is even worse. I’ve been pretty lenient about letting you kids hang around the Gems all summer, but Ford is where I draw the line. Do yourself a favor and stay away from him, ya hear me?”

“But Grunkle Stan,” Dipper protested intently, not about to let himself be deterred from asking Ford his abundance of accumulating questions any longer. “All summer long I’ve wanted to know who the author of the journals was. Now the guy lives in our basement and I can’t even talk to him. How is that fair?”

“Life’s not fair, kid,” Stan remarked, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry about what’s in the basement. I’d say you saw more than enough of it the other day… A-anyway, you belong up here with me and Mabel.”

“Yeah! Besides, this Friday is the epic made-for-TV movie crossover event of the century,” Mabel smiled brightly as she held up the TV guide ad for said crossover. “Dogcopter Meets Ducktective! Steven’s coming over to watch it with us, we’re all gonna wear our official Dogcopter propeller hats, its gonna be great! It’ll be all the mystery and adventure you’ll need this week!”

“You bet it will be!” Stan remarked, just as eager for the special as his niece was. “For years we’ve been wanting to see that duck and that dog cross paths and now our dreams are finally about to come true! It better live up to our expectations or else I’ll… I, uh… huh. What do kids nowadays do when they wanna complain about something?”

“Usually they just do it online and make long whiny posts about how things didn’t turn out the way they wanted to and why the writers are wrong for not doing things their way,” Mabel noted with a shrug.

“Really? Geez, how pathetic.”

As Stan and Mabel continued commiserating over their excitement about the upcoming crossover, Dipper had all but checked out of the conversation entirely in favor of turning his attention back towards the vending machine. Unknown, but intriguing light sparked through the cracks behind it, no doubt part of whatever mysterious invention or project Ford was likely working on down in the basement below. Whatever was going on on the other side of that door, Dipper couldn’t help but want to be a part of it, or at the very least finally get the chance to finally ask Ford the questions he had been asking all summer. To finally be on the same level with someone who understood just how important and vital it was to ask those questions in the first place. To finally have the opportunity to get perspective on the elusive and exciting mysteries of Gravity Falls from someone who had spent years studying them firsthand and was enthralled by their bizarre uniqueness as much as he was.

And yet… as it stood, he couldn’t. Because just as he had been all summer, the author of the journals, or rather, his very own great uncle, was still so close but so far out of his reach.

Whenever Mabel wrote a letter home to her and Dipper’s parents, she made sure to spare no expense when it came to the finer details of their fantastical, often rather harrowing summer escapades in Gravity Falls. Of course, given Mabel’s infamously active imagination and how bizarre and flowery her accounts of such misadventures usually were, their parents never showed any signs of taking too much stock in believing her stories in their responses. Even so, that didn’t stop her from writing about them all the same, and in her latest letter to them, she had much to tell indeed.

“Dear Mom and Dad,” Mabel began, dictating the letter aloud as she sat on the living room floor to write it out. “We’ve been in Gravity Falls for the few months and so much has happened! Just the other day, gravity reversed itself, almost destroying the whole universe and wrecking the whole town!”

At that moment, Mabel happened to glance up at the TV, which was playing a fitting report on the damage the portal’s opening had caused throughout Gravity Falls as a whole. “Well, they say it was just an earthquake,” Lazy Susan said as she stood outside of Greasy’s Diner as a crane was attempting to set it back into its normal position. “But you know what I think? I think I’m gonna have to start serving pineapple upside-right cake! Haha, am I right? …Am I right?”

As the crane ended up clumsily dropping the diner, the shot cut to Mayor Dewey giving a speech downtown. “Good people of Gravity Falls!” the mayor addressed the crowd before him somewhat anxiously. “I-I know that throughout this summer, our fair town here has been plagued by a serious of, er… uh, mishaps. Like this recent mysterious earthquake… or that giant hand-shaped spaceship coming a few weeks ago… or that giant robot ordeal a few weeks before that… or the lake being stolen a few weeks before that… or that scary red eyeball appearing in the sky a few weeks before that…” Dewey paused, a concerned frown crossing his features as a beat of awkward silence passed through the crowd in light of this derailment off topic. “Wait, what was I talking about again?”

As the news report continued, Mabel turned her attention back to her letter, eager to detail the most recent happenings to her parents. “But the coolest part of the summer was when Grunkle Stan’s twin brother came out of this portal-thingy. Now we have two grunkles for the price of one! And they are adorable together!” Upon finishing her letter, Mabel drew a sketch of both Stan and Ford, their expressions surly and grumpy though they were still peacefully holding hands all the same.

“Hi, Mabel!” Steven greeted with a smile as he entered the shack a moment later. “What are you up to?”

“Hiya, Steven! I was just finishing up a letter to my parents about all the stuff that’s been going on around here,” Mabel explained, holding said letter up. “Though at this rate, with so many huge things going on lately, I think its gonna be longer than I anticipated…”

“Yeah, things have been… pretty intense lately…” Steven noted, his smile dissipating as he rubbed his arm and looked to the side. “Garnet and Pearl still haven’t talked to each other after the whole… ya know, Sardonyx thing, and I’m pretty sure none of the Gems are still really over getting their memories back… I just hope that everything will sort itself out and things can finally get back to normal again soon…”

“I’m sure they will,” Mabel reassured with a bright smile, one that was soon accompanied by a newfound rush of warmth in her cheeks as she glanced down at the young Gem’s hand, which happened to be right within her reach as he stood not too far away from her. Really, it would have been so very easy to reach out and take it in an act of solace and comfort given his downcast manner. And perhaps she would have worked up the nerve to do so too… if her brother hadn’t ended up rushing in right before she could get the chance.

“Mabel! Steven!” Dipper exclaimed as he entered the room, carrying a rather large box. “You’ll never guess what I found at the store today!”

“It looks like… a box,” Steven ventured, his small smile returning.

“Dogs!” Mabel exclaimed, forcing herself to perk up. “Dogs with hats!”

“No,” Dipper shook his head, opening the box up only to reveal another, much more decorated box inside of it, which he held up for the pair to see. “It’s my favorite fantasy-talking, level-counting, statistics and graph-paper involving game of all time: Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons! Do you guys wanna play it with me?”

“Well… I do like unicorns,” Mabel noted as she looked over the game’s intricate fantastical box art. “And that hot elf looks promising.”

“Yeah, it looks like it’s a lot of fun, like Sugar Country, or Hint!” Steven chimed in. “How do you play?”

“The rules are super simple,” Dipper assured as he opened the game’s surprisingly large instruction booklet. “First you roll a 38-sided die to determine the level of each player’s statistical analysis poweroid. These orbs relate directly to the amount of quadrants your team as dominion over, which is inverse to the anti-quadrants in your quadrant satchel.”

A beat of stilted silence passed in the aftermath of this rather daunting explanation as Steven and Mabel exchanged an equally bewildered look, neither of them needing to communicate to each other that they had next to no idea what Dipper was talking about. “Uh… w-well that… that sounds, uh…” Steven’s uncertain stumbling soon devolved into exactly what he really felt. “…I’ll be honest, I have no idea what any of that meant…”

“Ok, ok, so after we do all that confusing stuff,” Mabel interjected with a wave of her hand. “Then so we get to ride unicorns?”

“Yes!” Dipper nodded, much to his sister’s excitement, which dissipated almost immediately after he continued. “And… no. First, we make a graph.”

“Ugh, this is like Homework the Game…” Mabel groaned, any interest she might have had in the game completely gone upon hearing this.

“Oh come on, you guys, its not that bad,” Dipper retorted. “Just try it for a round or two. You never know, you might have fun.”

“Ew, how can you even mention fun in the same sentence as all that gross math you gotta do just to play the dang game?” Mabel asked, sticking her tongue out in disdain.

“Well, I’d try it, Dipper, but I think it’s just a little too… complicated for me,” Steven said with sincerity. “And by complicated I mean I’d probably get a headache just trying to figure out how to set the game up…”

“I think most normal people would, Steven,” Mabel remarked, crossing her arms.

Dipper let out a small huff of aggravation at this slight, but even so, he persisted in trying to convince them. “W-well once you get going, its easy,” he assured, even if that wasn’t exactly the truth. After all, Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons was notorious for taking an extensive amount of time and dedication to learn how to play properly, but as far as Dipper was concerned, neither Steven nor Mabel needed to know that. “Besides, I need at least two people to play, so could one of you just-”

“Oh, would you look at that!” Mabel exclaimed with faux surprise as Soos happened to enter the room, giving her leeway to flee to the other side of the den. “Two people!”

“Well wait, with Steven standing here, doesn’t that technically make three?” Soos asked, unaware of the previously unfolding conversation. “Or are we using some kind of new counting system here that I don’t know about.”

“Uh, no…” Dipper frowned, slightly confused before getting back to the matter at hand. “But anyway, Soos, is there any way you’d be up for a little game of D, D, and More D?”

“Aw, sorry, Dipper,” the handyman said, truthfully apologetic. “But I don’t really go for that pen and paper kind of stuff. I’m more of an FCLORPer.”

“…A what?”

“FCLORP,” Soos reiterated with a proud grin. “Foam and Cardboard Legitimate Outdoor Role Play. It is where a passionate brethren of craftsman bring their dreams to magical reality!”

“Oh, I think I’ve heard of that,” Steven spoke up, intrigued. “Isn’t that where everyone dresses up in cardboard costumes and fights each other with foam swords? Now that sounds like fun!”

“It totally is, dude,” Soos readily agreed. “You should see us when we break the plastic ball pit balls out. That’s when things really get intense!”

“Uh… well, thanks anyway, Soos,” Dipper said, still rather disappointed that he had no one to play with. Or so it seemed, until Stan walked in.

“Say,” the conman began with an already goading smirk as he noticed the game box his nephew was holding. “Is that the game that’s mostly math and writing and isn’t anything like the picture on the box?”

“Yes, it is!” Dipper said with newfound excitement. “You wanna play it with me, Grunkle Stan?”

“Ha, as if!” Stan laughed rather mockingly as he grabbed the rule book. “Look, kid, I prefer to do my dice rolling in Vegas. Besides, only a game designed by nerds would have ‘charisma’ as a fantasy power. Heh, and check this out,” he turned to a random page in the rule book and began reading out loud callously. “When facing yon adversaries, shield thyself under an elfin buttress.”

“Ha!” Mabel chuckled, thoroughly amused. “Say it again!”

“Buttress!” Stan repeated before both him and Mabel broke down into a round of teasing laughter over the game’s rather self-indulgent manner.

“Hey!” Dipper protested petulantly, taking the rule book back amidst his somewhat flustered embarrassment.

“Aw, come on, you guys,” Steven interjected, clearly sympathetic for Dipper, though he still didn’t really get the jist of the game himself. “Just because this game isn’t really for us, doesn’t mean you have to be so mean about it.”

“Yeah, what Steven said,” Dipper staunchly and crossly agreed. “Heck, maybe you guys just aren’t smart enough to understand it.”

“Uh… actually I think that kinda undermined what I was just trying to say…” Steven noted, though both him and Dipper were overpowered by more bemused laughter from Stan and Mabel.

“Heh, sorry, dude,” Soos remarked to Dipper, somewhat caught up in the round of levity himself. “But it is kind of nerdy. Well, I’m off to lay siege to a goblin fortress.” At this, the handyman girded himself with a sloppily made cardboard helmet and sword before boldly running off to begin his FCLORPing quest. “To my grandma’s backyard!”

Since Dipper had been unable to find any human opponents to play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons with, he decided to resort to the next best thing he could think of. Which was how he ended up setting the game board up outside the shack facing off in a less than exciting round of the game against Gompers the goat.

“Oh nice! You rolled a 17!” Dipper said with something of a forced grin after he himself rolled the die for the goat, who only let out a dull bleat in response. “Aaaand… this is sad. Maybe I should just go back to obsessing over Wendy again…”

Dipper let out something of a defeated sigh as he leaned back away from the board, unable to keep himself from feeling just the slightest bit lonely. True, he had reconciled with Mabel and Steven following the portal incident and they were all once again on even ground with each other, as they should have been. And yet, for whatever reason, he still felt somewhat distanced from the pair, almost as if remnants of that unsavory tension were lingering behind even still. Their unanimous rejection of his invitation to play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons with him did make sense; after all, Dipper knew just how complicated the game must come across to the outsider looking in. And yet, the fact that neither of them really seemed very interested in learning how to play it, even if for nothing more than his sake, spoke volumes to him about exactly how much support they were willing to give him. It was abundant in times of tribulation, when they all found that they needed to lean on each other to remain standing strong; but in the smaller, quieter moments, that solidarity was, disappointingly enough, nowhere to be found.

As lost in pensive thought as he was, Dipper didn’t even notice that Gompers had gotten ahold of his 38-sided die until the goat attempted to munch down on it, much to his sudden alarm. “Hey! Give that back!” Dipper ordered, attempting to retrieve the die only for Gompers to maintain his surprisingly firm hold on it. “C’mon, Gompers, let go!” With another heavy pull back, the goat finally released the die, only for it to go flinging back past Dipper and roll under the nearby porch instead. “Ugh, seriously?” Dipper muttered to himself in exasperation as he crawled over to retrieve it. However, right after he had slipped under the porch and began reaching around for the die, the loose soil near the base of the house unexpectedly shifted, crumbling apart right underneath him. Before he could even think to catch himself, Dipper suddenly found himself falling through the newly created opening, passing through several beams and cobwebs before roughly hitting the basement floor. While somewhat shaken, fortunately he didn’t seem to be injured as he began to slowly pick himself up and finally reclaim the elusive 32-sided die, which just so happened to be sitting right next to the now-contained monster Ford had defeated in the gift shop earlier. Even so, Dipper made sure to take care in reaching for the die, lest he aggravate the dangerous creature, only to be abruptly halted right before he could reach it.

“Dipper! Stop!”

“G-Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper exclaimed, startled as he spun around to face the author, who looked far from pleased to see his nephew down in his off-limits lab.

“What did I say about coming down here?” Ford admonished, hands on his hips. “My work is far too dangerous for a single living soul to spend even one second—Wait! Is that a 38-sided die from Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?”

“Uh, yeah…” Dipper frowned, somewhat bewildered as he reclaimed the die and held it up for the author to see. “You know that game?”

Ford briefly smirked at this, his manner turning bold as he began to recite the game’s iconic tagline. “With pen and paper, shield and sword-”

“Our quest shall be our just reward!” Dipper joined in just as excitably before joining his uncle in a bout of bemused laughter.

“This is my favorite game in the whole multiverse!” Ford exclaimed, still grinning brightly. “I can’t believe they still make it!”

“They do! And I’ve been looking all day for someone to play it with me,” Dipper said, though his enthusiasm briefly turned to hesitation out of fear of pressing his luck with the author like he had a few days ago. “But uh, i-if you’re too busy to, I totally understand. In fact, I should probably just-”

“Dipper, my boy,” Ford interjected, placing a hand on his nephew’s shoulder before he could depart. “Do you know what this means? We must stop everything I’ve been working on at once… and play!”

Upon hearing this, Dipper couldn’t hold back a small gasp of excited surprise, knowing that the last person he had expected to gain as a welcome opponent for Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons was the author of the journals himself. However, before the pair could get to playing, the octopus creature suddenly broke free from its containment unit, launching itself at Ford and latching onto his face. The author upheld his chipper smile though as he simply tore the creature off is face, which had received a rather alarming series of burns from the monster’s somewhat toxic touch. “That’s… going to leave a mark.”

Seeing as how Steven was just as big of a fan of both Ducktective and Dogcopter as Mabel and Stan were, he eagerly joined them in preparing for the long-awaited crossover between the two properties the following day. All three of them wanted to make sure that they had the ultimate viewing experience; after all, it wasn’t every day that two such incredibly loved characters and universes came together in such a unique and exciting way.

“Ok, so it looks like we’ve got everything we need to watch the Ducktective/Dogcopter crossover tomorrow,” Mabel said as her and Steven looked over the massive mountain of snacks they had accumulate. “I even made mouth-ramps so we can pour food into our mouths without taking our eyes off the screen!” She showed one of the mouth ramps she had created off, a cardboard box filled to the brim with food with a small ramp stuck onto the side, before readily demonstrating how it worked, which was surprisingly well.

“I brought my Ducktective and Dogcopter collectable figurines down here with me so they can be part of this historic event!” Steven proclaimed as he held the figures up. “Ironically enough, I already had these two sitting next to each other on my shelf, so in a way its kinda like I almost predicted them meeting up for real like this!”

“And I used some spare taxidermied parts to mash the two of them up together the flying mystery solver: Dogtectuckcopter!” Stan proclaimed, holding the rather nightmarish amalgamation of fake duck and fake dog he had created up.

“Whoa! Its like a fusion…” Steven mused in amazement.

“Only a super messed up one!” Mabel laughed, amused. “Dipper would love that!”

“Heh, yeah, where is the little squirt anyway?” Stan asked, briefly glancing around for his apparently missing nephew. “I haven’t seen him all afternoon.”

Completely unbeknownst to the group upstairs, Dipper was merely in the basement below them with Ford, just as he had been ever since he had accidentally fallen down there. Since both of them were very well acquainted with the intricate rules of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons, they had wasted no time in setting the game up and getting their campaign started. And as was usually the case with the fast-paced high fantasy game, it didn’t take very long for said campaign to build up to the epic (albeit imaginary) intensity it was known for.

“Alright,” Ford began, deftly passing the 38-sided die between his fingers as he laid out the ongoing scenario for his nephew. “You’ve entered the chamber. Princess Unattainabelle beckons you. But wait! It’s a trap! An illusion cast by Probabilitor the Annoying.”

“You know his weakness, right?” Dipper asked with a knowing smirk before they both proclaimed said weakness in unison.

“Prime statistical anomalies over 37 but not exceeding 51!” The pair exclaimed in unison as Dipper rolled the die, fortunately landing on exactly that.

“Aha! Yes!” he cheered brightly as he progressed along in the game past Probabilitor. “Take that, you cardboard wizard!”

“Hm. The old boy looks quite a bit different than he did back in my day,” Ford noted with a nostalgic smile as he looked over the wizard’s in-game artwork.

“Yeah, they change the art every few years,” Dipper said. “Thankfully you missed the period when the creators of the game tried to make it ‘cooler’ by painting everything neon and making the characters rap spells instead of just saying them. It must have been dark times, those 90s.”

“Yeesh,” Ford remarked with a bemused grin as he rolled his eyes. “Sounds like a good time to be stuck between dimensions.”

Upon hearing this, Dipper took pause, his focus on the ongoing game waning somewhat in favor of something he hadn’t really thought much about since him and Ford had begun playing. Something that was admittedly a good deal more important than scouring fake dungeons and defeating fictional wizards. “Great Uncle Ford,” he began evenly enough, hoping that would help him finally answers this time. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… Where were you before you came out of that machine? And… what have you been doing down here these past few days? Are you working on something behind that curtain?” he nodded towards the curtain covering the window that led to the portal’s cavernous chamber, which was now intentionally kept out of sight for whatever reason.

A bout of uneasy hesitation crossed the author’s expression at such pertinent inquiries, and upon that alone, Dipper’s hopes for getting any concrete answers abruptly sank. Of course, they only ended up sinking even further when Ford all but confirmed he had no intentions of giving any. “Dipper, its best if you and the family stay away from that subject…” he replied, casting a brief, somewhat worried glance behind him. “Honestly, I’m not sure any of you could handle the real answer.”

For a moment, Dipper wanted to argue that he could handle it. That, based on everything he had been through during the past several months alone, he could understand and comprehend whatever was lying in wait beyond that curtain. That he wasn’t just the naive, innocent kid that Ford no doubt took him for upon a first glance. But in the end, he knew that arguing the opposite would likely prove exactly that, which was why he decided to pursue an entirely different tangent instead. “Well… what about the Gems?” he asked, glancing aside. “You guys did used to work together way back when, right? Does that mean you’re gonna let them in on, um… everything?”

Once again, Ford hesitated, his manner clearly remorseful and conflicted even as he answered, despite his relative discomfort with the topic in general. “Under normal circumstances, I… might have, but my current relationship with the Gems is somewhat… uneasy, so to speak,” he explained as eloquently as he could. “It’ll take some time before things between all of us will even remotely resemble how they used to be, especially since Rose is… no longer around. In a way, I suppose that the falling out between us all was my fault…” The author paused, his expression sad as he let out a small sigh before shaking his head to clear it. “B-but even if everything was smooth sailing between myself and the Gems, to my understanding, now really wouldn’t be the best time to bother them with external affairs. I hear they’ve been having plenty of problems all their own lately…”

“Oh yeah…” Dipper agreed with a concerned frown. “Things have been pretty tense between the Gems ever since they got their memories back, but Pearl lying to Garnet so they could fuse into Sardonyx really didn’t help anything.”

“So that’s what happened,” Ford mused thoughtfully. “To be perfectly honest, I can’t really blame Pearl for going to such… extensive lengths. I can only imagine how losing Rose might have effected her in particular.”

“From the way she always talks about Rose, it seems like the two of them were pretty close,” Dipper noted.

“They were very close,” the author smirked somewhat nostalgically at this. “It’s part of the reason why Pearl didn’t really care for me too much for me when Rose and I first became research partners. That is, until…” Ford trailed off as he glanced down at the gameboard still sitting between them, a small, brief chuckle escaping him before he diverted away from it. “Well, never mind. I’ll save that story for another time. Certainly things between the Gems will work themselves out in the end.”

Though it seemed as though Ford intended on getting back to the game, Dipper didn’t exactly want to leave it at that, especially as he happened to remember something, or rather someone, that he had regrettably not thought too much about since before the portal opened. And now, given that he was sitting right across from the wise author of the journals himself, he figured now was a good a time as any to finally, hopefully, get some help with it. “Uh… speaking of things working out…” he began rather tentatively. “Great Uncle Ford, you’ve studied a lot of Gem stuff, right?”

“But of course,” Ford said with a somewhat proud grin. “The mysteries of Gemkind were always a highlight of my research. In fact, if I had had the time, I would have started a fourth journal completely dedicated to Gem-related topics. And… depending on how things turn out, I might still run with that idea in the future perhaps… hm…”

“Um, yeah, s-so… did you ever figure out a way to, uh… split a really unhealthy, really dangerous fusion up?” Dipper asked anxiously, trying his best to mask how desperate he really was for a ‘yes’ to this longtime question.

Yet a ‘yes’ wasn’t what Ford gave him, at least not right away as he instead looked to his nephew with slight concern. “Why do you ask?”

“W-well….” Dipper began, unsure of how to really explain this story in a way that wouldn’t remind him of how painful it really was. But upon realizing that was nigh impossible, he decided to just get on with it anyway, knowing that if Ford really did hold a solution, then that pain would be more than worth it in the end. “Near the beginning of the summer, Steven, Mabel, and I met this Gem named Lapis Lazuli. We helped her out and then she went away for a while, but when she came back, me and her hung out a lot and… w-well I guess you could say we became pretty close friends. But then… these two Gems from Homeworld showed up: Peridot and Jasper. They tried to take Steven and the Gems back with them, but we ended up stopping them and crashing their ship near the lake, and it seemed like everything was going to be ok, until…” Dipper trailed, off hesitating as he stared at the ground in front of him as he realized that, even though weeks had passed since that fateful, awful dawn on the lake’s shores, the reality of what had happened there still hadn’t gotten any easier to swallow. “U-until Jasper… forced Lapis to fuse with her so she could take all of us out. So they fused into this huge, powerful monster of a fusion named Malachite, b-but before they could attack us, Lapis took control and dragged them both into the lake, a-and… and she’s been stuck down there ever since. She’s keeping herself trapped down there and fighting Jasper pretty much every second of every day just to keep us safe… to keep me safe…”

Though Ford had been silent for the sake of intently listening to his nephew’s solemn tale up until this point, upon noticing the tears just starting to well up in Dipper’s eyes, he found he could keep quiet no longer. “Dipper…” he began gently, only to be quickly interupted.

“It’s all my fault…” Dipper muttered, the guilt in his tone palpable as he wiped his eyes dry. “And the worst part of it is, I have no idea how to save her, but I have to. I owe it to her, and e-even besides that, she doesn’t deserve to be trapped again. And that’s why… I-I was hoping maybe you could maybe help me with that?” he asked, looking to Ford with almost pleading sincerity. “The Gems have been too busy with trying to track Peridot down to do anything about this, b-but if you know how to split a fusion like Malachite up, then we could finally free Lapis!”

Ford’s expression was already full of both sympathy and remorse before he even said anything. And when he speak up on the matter as his nephew eagerly awaited his response, he decided to be completely honest; after all, there was really no point in being anything else on a subject as sensitive as this. “Dipper, I… I’m sorry,” the author began evenly, yet sincerely. “Most of my research concerning Gem fusions tended to focus more on how they were formed and functioned rather than how they fell apart. So… suffice to say my knowledge on the topic is rather… limited, at best.”

“O-oh…” Dipper was unable to hold back a disappointed sigh upon hearing this, knowing that, as usual, he was right back to square one when it came to freeing Lapis from her watery prison. “Ok, I understand… thanks anywa-”

“However,” Ford interjected with a small smile of reassurance. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be willing to figure the solution to such a complicated problem out. After all, I’d like to think that working through the impossible is something I have a certain knack for.”

“So… you’ll help?” Dipper asked, a sense of rising hope filling him.

“Yes,” the author confirmed, his smile widening. “It might not be an easy task, but I promise, I’ll do anything I can to help you rescue her.”

“Oh my gosh! Thank you so much, Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper caught Ford quite off guard with an unexpected hug, one that the author awkwardly returned as he realized just how important this matter apparently was to his nephew. Which was why, for whatever reason, he felt a strong obligation to keep the promise he had just made, no matter how difficult doing so might prove to be. “Oh! Uh, s-sorry!” Dipper exclaimed, clearly flustered as he broke away from the hug.

“Don’t be,” Ford assured with a small laugh. Even so, the author paused for a beat, knowing that while they couldn’t exactly do much to save Lapis at that very moment, there was perhaps something he could do to help raise his nephew’s no doubt still lowered spirits, even if it would be a rather small attempt at best. “You know… while I can’t tell you much about where I’ve been the past 30 years, I can show you something I brought back with me.” The author’s grin turned wry as he reached into a small pouch tied to his belt and fished out a tiny, unassuming black box, which he opened to reveal something quite incredible. Upon a first glance, it seemed to be a many-sided die, the same kind that was often used in Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons, yet this one was quite different in many ways. Firstly, its crystalline surface emitted a faint, almost magical glow, but even more fascinating was the fact that the various cryptic symbols on its many sides seemed to be in a state of continual flux, constantly shifting and changing on their own accord to the point that the same symbol rarely ever appeared twice. “An infinity-sided die,” Ford proclaimed, quite proud of such a rare interdimensional find.

“Whoa…” Dipper gasped, his eyes wide with amazement as he looked to the special game piece. “That’s so cool! And… impossible!”

“These things are outlawed in 9,000 dimensions,” Ford explained, clearly just as excited as his nephew was. “You wanna know why? Look at those symbols. Infinite sides means infinite outcomes. If I rolled it, anything could happen. Our faces could melt into jelly, the world could turn into an egg, or… you could just roll an 8. Who knows? That’s why I have to keep it in this protective cheap plastic case. Now, let’s get back to the game! You’ve got Probabilitor on the ropes, though his power level ranks far above yours. You’d need to be accompanied by a level 19 paladin at least in order to get past him.”

“Ugh, of course,” Dipper groaned in exasperation. “If only we had one more player. That would make this so easy!”

“Hm…. Another player, you say?” the author mused, glancing down to the game board, or more particularly, an image of a knight in the background of its artwork. He had considered this idea earlier, when Dipper had first invited him to play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons with him, in fact, but the author had put the thought aside for obvious reasons. Though now, after giving it a little more thought and with the opportunity that had just presented itself, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. “I think I know just the Gem…”

Pearl let out a small, sad sigh as she sat on the living room couch, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she stared down at them solemnly. Only about a day had passed since Garnet had discovered her deception, and as far as the white Gem knew, nothing had changed concerning her leader’s disposition concerning the situation. Or rather, concerning the massive, rather inexcusable mistake she herself had committed against her. A mistake that, despite Pearl’s best efforts, she had been completely unable to distract herself from. Not that she thought she really deserved to have a break from the memory of her wrongdoing anyway; as far as she was concerned, she deserved to carry the oppressive weight of this guilt around with her. After all, it was only fair after she had absolutely betrayed the trust of someone she respected and cared for as much as Garnet.

And so, in light of the unsteady relations between the team and a lack of any pressing missions, Pearl expected that her day would be rather uneventful as a whole. What she hadn’t been expecting, however, was for both Dipper and Ford to suddenly show up at the temple quite out of nowhere.

“Uh, hey, Pearl,” Dipper greeted somewhat tentatively as he entered the temple first.

“Oh, hello, Dipper!” Pearl replied with a warm smile that quickly fell as Ford followed in after him. “And… Stanford… What a surprise…”

“G-greetings, Pearl,” Ford offered a somewhat awkward smile and wave, one that Pearl met rather coldly, as he had honestly been expecting she would. “I simply came by to—I mean, we came by to see if you wanted to… o-or rather, if you had the time to join us in… I mean-”

“We wanted to see if you were up to playing a game with us,” Dipper interjected, getting the point across much more concisely than Ford could in his apparent discomfort in interacting with the white Gem in light of recent events.

“A game?” Pearl tilted her head in confusion as she looked between the pair skeptically. “… What kind of game?”

Ford was quick to properly collect himself at this, a small grin crossing his features as he took a small step forward and presented Pearl with a 38-sided die. “You wouldn’t by chance happen to remember Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons, would you?”

Pearl was unable to contain a gasp of surprise at this, a brief smile of excitement coming along with it, though she was quick to press it away. “I-I… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she claimed, crossing her arms as she sharply glanced away. “I’ve never even heard of… what was it again? Dungeons—something? W-well, whatever it is, I’m sure its completely ludicrous and not at all engaging or immersive or anything of the like.”

“Oh, but don’t you remember, Pearl?” Ford asked, raising an eyebrow. “30 years ago, you and used to spend many a night embroiled in epic rounds of slaying ogres and challenging each other with labyrinthine dungeons and quadratic equations. I always used to think it was a treasured pastime between the two of us. You know, after you stopped thinking I was competing against you for Rose.”

Upon hearing this lightly teasing jab, Pearl let out an appalled scoff, her cheeks lighting up in a blue blush as she glared away hotly. Dipper on the other hand, was quite surprised to hear this news. “You guys used to play D, D, and More D together?” he asked curiously.

“N-no!” Pearl exclaimed, though at the very same time, Ford offered his own enthusiastic response.

“All the time!” the author assured brightly.

“W-well, I certainly don’t remember anything of the sort!” the white Gem protested crossly.

“Perhaps you just haven’t managed to recall those memories yet?” Ford theorized thoughtfully.

“Yeah! Maybe playing the game will end up jogging your memory of it!” Dipper suggested, offering the white Gem a hopeful smile.

“I… don’t think so, Dipper,” Pearl denied gently enough, not wanting to upset her pupil, though it seemed as though she didn’t have the same consideration for the author. “After all, I have much more… important matters to attend to… You can see yourselves out.” And with that, the white Gem abruptly turned on her heel to head towards the temple gate, her arms still folded as she resisted the urge to turn back around, even as Dipper and Ford continued conversing.

“Aw man… how am I gonna get past Probabilitor now?” Dipper asked, clearly disappointed by Pearl’s rejection.

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Ford reassured, placing a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Still, it really is a shame… Pearl is one of the best players I’ve ever met. After only a few hours of me explaining the game to her, she had already managed to catch up to me in almost all of her categories. And don’t even get me started on her incredible strategic abilities! One time, we were cornered against four ice dragons with essentially no magic left between either of us, and she managed to beat them back and get us out of that dungeon in only seven rolls! It was spectacular!”

“If I recall correctly…” Pearl suddenly interjected, glancing over her shoulder with a hint of a wry expression on her face. “It was five ice dragons in six rolls… Though of course,” the white Gem turned fully, finally cracking a bit of a sardonic smile. “I could be wrong. After all, my memory might still be a little hazy…”

“Well, regardless of the specifics, your tactics still were always very impressive back in the day,” Ford professed with a fond, genuine smile.

“But of course they were,” the white Gem shrugged, smirking. “After all, I learned such tactics in the uproarious intensity of an actual battlefield thousands of years ago. Applying those strategies to theoretical monsters and warlocks really isn’t that different when you think about it.”

At this, neither Pearl nor Ford could hold back a shared warm laugh, one that seemed to spark up the playful camaraderie they used to share in the past, one that they now both fully seemed to remember. And upon seeing things starting to repair themselves between the pair, Dipper felt inspired enough to present his initial offer to the white Gem yet again. “So… does this mean you’ll play with us?” he asked, hopeful.

Pearl took pause, hesitating briefly as she remembered that she deserved no such distraction from the mistake she had made against Garnet. Which meant that she didn’t deserve to enjoy herself in a pastime that she now remembered she really did enjoy quite a bit. And yet… upon meeting her young pupil’s expectant glance, she found that it was just about impossible for her to say no. “Oh, alright,” she chuckled softly. “I suppose I can join you two for a little while… “

“Pearl, I think we all know that a ‘little’ while is rarely ever little when it comes to Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons,” Ford remarked rather coyly.

The white Gem let out a genuine laugh at this, rather happy to follow after Dipper and Ford as they lead the way down to the Mystery Shack for what was bound to be an intense afternoon of dungeon spelunking and equation solving. “I can’t argue with you there.”

Sure enough, a little while had turned into an all-day campaign as Dipper, Ford, and Pearl hypothetically set out on their grandiose, mathematical quest. True to the author’s recounting, the white Gem was surprisingly skilled at the game, her recollection of its intricate rules returning to her memory practically the moment she sat down to play it. And with that recollection came a renewed enthusiasm for the playful pastime her and Ford used to share, one that showed itself in every roll of the die and move across the board she made. Seeing as how both Ford and Dipper already had plenty of enthusiasm towards the game themselves even before Pearl had joined them, this made for an air of genuine excitement as they all congregated in the basement lab to carve out their intrepid victory.

“Excellent work, Dipper! You finally managed to defeat that troublesome fire golem!” Pearl proclaimed with a congratulatory grin.

“Yeah,” Dipper said with a slightly exasperated sigh. “Now if only I could have stopped those woodland imps from stealing all my healing potions…”

“Heh, speaking of imps,” Ford remarked, sending Pearl a wry, reminiscent smirk. “That reminds me of the time Amethyst snuck down here and attempted to steal just about every morsel of food I had in the house.”

“Oh, that was a mess,” Pearl chuckled heartily upon hearing the familiar tale. “I remember there was a trail of food leading all the way between here and the temple! No wonder that horrific moth man creature attacked us that night when we were trying to clean it up!”

“A moth man?” Dipper asked, quite intrigued. “Like the one in the journal?”

“The very one,” Ford nodded in confirmation. “It was so dark that we barely even saw him coming until he jumped at me out of nowhere to try and get my lantern.”

“Oh, you should have seen it, Dipper!” Pearl laughed openly. “The bold, brazen ‘author of the journals’, cowered in fear against a tree, crying for mercy against a cloud of moths, of all things. It was hilarious!”

“I-in my defense, that ‘cloud of moths’ just so happened to be in the shape of a man, and a very intimidating one at that!” Ford protested, clearly flustered.

“Ah yes, so intimidating that it only took one toss of Rose’s shield to completely dispel it and save you, yet again,” the white Gem remarked, her tone still coy and playful. “Then again, I suppose it wasn’t entirely your fault, Stanford. After all, you were rather danger prone back in those days.”

“Well, if I was, then I suppose I was able to consider myself lucky to have such reliable friends like you, Rose, and the others,” Ford remarked with a warm, genuine smile, one that seemed to carry an underlying layer of unspoken remorse to it as well.

Pearl seemed to mirror this, her own expression somewhat sad and hesitant before shifting into a soft, nostalgic smile, a smile that she didn’t try to chase away this time. “Friends… right…” she muttered, glancing away briefly before quickly perking up and returning her attention back to the game once more. “Now, where were we? Ah yes! Chasing down those pesky imps…”

At this sudden change of gears, Dipper and Ford exchanged a brief glance of confusion, but even so, they were quick to follow Pearl’s lead and get their heads back into the game. After all, from where they stood now, they were bound to have an entire untold adventure ahead of them.

While Mabel knew from over 12 years of firsthand experience that Dipper usually kept rather late hours, most of the time that fact didn’t upset her own normal sleeping routine too much. However, this particular night was an exception to that, as she was finding it just about impossible to fall asleep with her brother intently plotting out his ongoing Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons strategy only a few feet away from her.

“Ok, so if I had a dragon here…” Dipper muttered to himself as he sketched out his plans amidst several pieces of graph paper. “Oh, and then a plus the fire mode over here-”

“Dipper, are you ever going to sleep?” Mabel asked as she rolled over in bed to face him, finally exasperated to the point that she couldn’t keep silent on it any longer. “You’ve been saying dork words for hours…”

“Sorry, Mabel, but I’ve got to finish this dungeon,” Dipper countered, not even bothering to glance up as he continued working. “It’s gonna totally stump Pearl and Great Uncle Ford tomorrow, I can’t wait to see the look on their faces!”

Mabel took pause upon hearing this, her already present frown deepening as she sat up. “You’ve, uh… been spending a lot of time with old Fordsy lately, huh?” she asked, her tone innocently curious enough. She didn’t see much of a reason to mention Pearl in her question, namely because she knew that Dipper already spent a good deal of time with the white Gem through his sword lessons, which meant that this was nothing really new. His recently developed comradery with Ford, on the other hand was. And for whatever reason, Mabel wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it.

“You have no idea,” Dipper said with an enthusiastic smile. “I knew the author must have been cool, but he’s better than I imagined! And… he doesn’t make fun of me like you and Grunkle Stan do.”

“Ha! Give him time!” Mabel teased, though she instantly wished she hadn’t upon seeing her brother’s expression sour at this remark. “Nah, you got me,” she faked playfulness, though once more Dipper offered her no response. Her own brief smile faded as she lay back down, letting out a small, worried sigh while staring up at the ceiling. True, the painful gap between them torn asunder by the portal had been mostly repaired, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still holes left behind all the same. Holes that she was only now starting to notice and had essentially no idea how to fix. “You got me…”

The Mystery Shack was abuzz with excitement the following day, all in anticipation of the long-awaited, massively hyped-up Ducktective/Dogcopter crossover that was set to air that evening. Steven had already arrived about an hour ago, and in that span of time, him and Mabel had gone through just about every theory and wish they had for the special, both of them more than eager to finally get a chance to see it. It was easy to say that they had sufficiently prepared themselves emotionally and mentally for this grand crossover by the time Grenda arrived to view it with them.

“Thanks for coming over to watch the crossover with us tonight, Grenda,” Mabel smiled as her and Steven greeted the larger girl at the door.

“Of course!” Grenda exclaimed in her usual boisterous way as she held up her Ducktective and Dogcopter flags. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for these two characters to meet my entire life!”

“Same here,” Steven nodded in agreement. “Or, ya know, at least ever since they announced the crossover last month.”

“Hey hey, look at you!” Mabel smirked as she noticed Stan coming downstairs, wearing his finest suit and tie. “Someone’s all dressed up.”

“It’s a big night,” Stan remarked as he adjusted his tie. “I never thought I’d live to see the day where a dog with a propeller on its back meets a duck who solves murder mysteries for a living. It really is a wonderful time to be alive.”

No sooner had the conman finished speaking than the alarm on Steven’s phone suddenly went off, eliciting an excited gasp from everyone. “It’s time!” the young Gem announced happily.

“Viewing positions, everyone!” Mabel ordered, pointing to the living room as they all began making a mad dash towards it. However, the entire group stopped short just as they passed into its threshold, surprise and disappointment hitting all of them as they caught sight of the graph paper and extensive notes regarding Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons strewn about all over the room. And, sitting in the very center of the den, Dipper, Ford, and Pearl were all completely engrossed in their ongoing game, all three of them clearly having a fun time as they were all but oblivious to the group that had just walked in on them.

“Ah! Graph paper! Kill it!” Grenda shouted, furiously stomping on the nearest piece of it.

“Uh… what’s going on in here?” Steven asked, much more calmly. “And wait, Pearl? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know…” Pearl began, sending her young ward a casual smile. “Just completely decimating these two in a duel for the mystical forbidden treasure of old.”

“Not for long, you won’t,” Dipper challenged brazenly as he rolled the die, though Mabel interupted before the game could go any further.

“Uh, Dipper? Could you guys maybe move this to another room?” she asked, only thinly veiling her annoyance.

“No dice!” Ford said. “We ran out of room in the basement and we’re going for a world record. Now… dice!” And with that, the author rolled, landing exactly the number he had been hoping for to advance. “Ha! 32, yes! 7,000 points damage!”

“Oh man! You got me!” Dipper laughed, accepting this setback gracefully.

“Hm… lucky roll…” Pearl mused, offering Ford a coy grin of defeat.

“Ugh, why? Why with this?” Stan groaned, not bothering to hide his aggravation with the trio as he sent Ford and Pearl an irritated glare in particular. “You two wanna break some records? You’ve already broken two for world’s nerdiest old man and world’s nerdiest… rock person?”

“Ugh… why am I not surprised that you don’t understand, Stan?” Pearl crossed her arms. “Amethyst used to crack her sarcastic little remarks about myself and Ford back in the day when we used to play this game together, just like you are now. You and her really are two of a kind.”

“Yeah, I can’t say I really blame her,” Stan retorted just as dryly, though he did briefly glance away at the remembrance of how much things had soured between him and Amethyst recently. “It’s not like you two don’t have it coming.”

“Hey, at least we’re not all keyed up to watch some kid’s show,” Ford countered, meeting his brother’s unimpressed expression evenly.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that this Ductective/Dogcopter crossover is gonna be legendary!” Stan snapped defensively. “People will be talking about how hilarious and tragic it is for decades! Or at least for like, a week or something.”

“I don’t get a lot of either of them, but I like animals in human situations,” Grenda pointed out.

“Plus, the music is really good,” Steven added. “And don’t even get me started on those crazy plot twists in both shows! They have so much in common, its like they were made to be together!”

“A-and its starting soon!” Mabel urged fretfully. “Grunkle Stan, do something!”

Stan complied, letting out an exasperated huff as he reached to remove the graph paper covering the television, only for Ford to intercept him by suddenly grabbing his wrist to stop him. “Move that and pay the price,” the author warned, his tone surprisingly grave. Startled, Stan took pause for a moment, only to instantly regain his previously sardonic attitude.

“Oh what? Fifty magical elf dollars?” the conman deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t mock our fantastical monetary system!” Ford snapped fiercely.

“Honestly, Stan, you’re just being childish about this whole thing!” Pearl said just as sharply.

“Yeah, I’m the one being childish, not you guys and your game about knights and fairy princesses and unicorns,” the conman remarked coldly. “And you know what? I’ll mock it all I want; it’s my TV room.”

“It’s my house!” the author argued, clearly angry by this point. However, he did make something of an attempt to calm down by letting out an evening sigh as he relinquished his brother’s hand and instead pulled his bag of many-sided die out instead. “Listen, Stanley, did it ever occur to you that if you joined us, you might have fun?”

“What?” Stan scoffed, clearly caught off guard by this offer. Despite his brief surprise regarding it however, he was quick to reject it, refusing to let his brother have his way, which, as far as he was concerned, always seemed to be the case. “Now you listen to me!” the conman began, snatching the bag right out of the author’s hand. The bag that, as both Ford and Dipper knew, contained something potentially very dangerous inside. “As long as I live I will never-”

“G-Grunkle Stan!” Dipper attempted to warn, though by this point Stan was far too incensed to really listen.

“Ever-”

“Stanley! Don’t!” Ford gasped in alarm as he saw the conman raise the bag up high.

“Play your smartypants nerd game!” Stan finished his harsh proclamation by throwing the bag down onto the ground hard. Unfortunately, out of it rolled a plastic black box, and out of that rolled a glowing die with ever-changing sides.

The infinity-sided die.

For a single, anxious moment, the die was still in motion as it rolled across the carpeted floor, but once it finally came to a stop, it did so on a symbol that had only just appeared: the outline of a powerful wizard. And, just as Ford had said would happen, the die’s power instantly brought its outcome to life. In a flash of blinding light, four mystical figures materialized right out of the box art of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons, brought to life and to reality in front of the shocked group who could do nothing more than watch as this impossibility unfolded right before their eyes. The assemblage of characters consisted of a massive golden griffon, a lumbering, bulky ogre, a attractive, bow-wielding elf, and finally, a cackling, bearded magician, clearly the leader of the crew as he spoke up first.

“Mortals of dimension 514÷Y! Kneel before me and-” the wizard interupted himself to roll his own die to see what threat he should dole out. “Snivel! I am Probabilitor! The greatest wizard in all of mathology! Give or take an error of 0.4.”

“Eh? Is this… normal?” Stan asked, aptly confused.

“Probabilitor?” Pearl also questioned, bewildered in a different way. “As in the one from the game? How is this even possible? Stanford, what did that die of yours do?!”

“That’s a… long story that there may or may not be time to explain all the details of later,” Ford said, his manner stiff and defensive as he kept a hand tucked away inside his trench coat. Just in case.

“Uh, are you here to send us on the quest of a lifetime because we’re the smartest players you’ve ever met?” Dipper asked the intruding wizard, hoping that his intentions weren’t as sinister as his sudden appearance came across.

“You are the smartest players I’ve ever met!” Probabilitor acknowledged with a sinister grin. “That’s why I’m going to eat your brains to gain your intelligence! Its what I do.”

“It’s his thing,” the wizard’s ogre companion added pointedly.

As everyone reacted to this news with alarmed surprise, Probabilitor took advantage of the moment as he ordered his mythical cohorts into action. “By the power of math, seize them!”

“Your math is no match for me gun, you idiot!” Ford retorted, finally pulling out the powerful laser gun he kept tucked away inside his coat. The author readily took aim, paying no mind to Pearl as she summoned her spear beside him or Dipper as he discreetly slipped away to retrieve something, fortunately without the wizard taking notice.

“Math ray!” Probabilitor shouted, a burst of mathematical power shooting out from his staff. The blast was more than enough to knock the gun clean out of Ford’s hands, leaving him essentially defenseless and opening things up for Pearl to take charge.

“Looks like I have to come to your rescue yet again, Stanford,” the white Gem remarked confidently as she rushed forward. She swung her spear widely, aiming for Probabilitor, though before her strike could land, Pearl suddenly found herself heavily pushed to the ground and pinned there by the griffon and its large, sharp talons. Her spear fell out of her hand and disappeared in its usual burst of sparkles, and with her arms as restrained as they were, summoning another one was nigh impossible.

“You were saying?” Ford remarked much more harshly than he had intended to, though given the circumstances, such stress was reasonable enough.

However, before either the author, the white Gem, or anyone else for that matter could try to thwart Probabilitor’s intentions, Dipper suddenly dashed forward seemingly out of nowhere, the Ancient Sea Blade tight in his grip. Ford in particular was rather startled to see his young nephew not only wielding such a weapon, but to see him running headfirst into obvious danger with a fearless battle cry. Unfortunately, much like Pearl, Dipper’s valiant attempt to cut the hostile wizard was ultimately put to a swift end as Probabilitor lashed out, a burst of his mysterious, dangerous magic spiraling right towards the sword-wielding boy.

“Dipper!” Mabel cried fearfully, though luckily, her brother reacted accordingly. At just the right moment, Dipper twisted his sword in front of him, pulling off a rather risky block that only worked to partially protect him. The Ancient Sea Blade took the brunt of the hit as Dipper was knocked back, and in practically an instant, the wizard’s magic destroyed the elegant sword, causing it to explode in an array of sparkles and mathematical symbols until nothing was left of it at all.

“Enough of this!” Probabilitor exclaimed hotly, pointing his staff in a commanding gesture as the griffon spread its wings and quickly worked to gather Pearl, Ford, and Dipper in hits talons. “I’m not here to play games!” With this, the wizard sent another blast of magic out, this one towards the nearest wall of the shack, which he easily blew a massive hole into. With an insane cackle, Probabilitor flew out through the hole, his band of companions following right behind with their captive trio in tow. “Now to the forest, for the ultimate game!”

“Oh no! Dipper! Pearl! Mr. Ford!” Steven cried worriedly as he rushed up to the hole along with Mabel as they both watched in dismay as they all disappeared into the forest, out of sight and out of reach.

“So…” Grenda spoke up after a beat of worried silence. “The room’s free now. Who wants to watch Ducktective and Dogcopter?” Another moment passed, this one much more awkward as Steven and Mabel looked to her in appalled disbelief at such a callous suggestion. “Nobody? Oh well! More couch for Grenda!”

“Oh, this is really bad,” Mabel said, both her tone and expression very fretful. “That crazy wizard is gonna eat Dipper and Ford’s brains! And… Pearl’s? I think? Isn’t that technically her gem?”

“W-we have to save them!” Steven interjected with a much more pertinent concern.

“Eh, maybe let ‘em get a couple of bites in Ford’s brain first,” Stan remarked, leaning against the side of the hole casually. “Even things out smart-wise.”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel scolded, nowhere near as accepting of this alarming kidnapping as he seemed to be.

“Alright, alright,” the conman quickly folded upon meeting his niece’s troubled manner. “I guess if we have no other choice, we’ll go on a… ugh, epic wizard quest.”

“Yay!” the trio of kids exclaimed in unified excitement, all more than ready for such a harrowing adventure if it meant saving their family and friends.

“Now before we hit the road, everyone grab a weapon,” Stan said, still far from enthused from having to go on this journey. After all, he wasn’t particularly excited about having to rescue Ford again, only to no doubt be denied proper thanks once more.

Everyone easily found whatever they had on hand to use as a weapon in their quest. Steven already had one on hand in his shield, as did Stan as he pulled out the baseball bat he kept tucked away in the porch couch’s cushions. On impulse, Mabel grabbed a rake, though Grenda was by far the most heavily equipped as she hoisted a recliner up, more than ready to use it as a weapon if needed.

“We’re coming for you, Dipper!” Mabel boldly proclaimed as everyone prepared to set off on their daring, magical rescue mission. “And Grunkle Ford! And Pearl! And possibly that hot elf, if he’s got anything to do with this.”

“Let’s go!” Steven exclaimed, leading the way as they all rushed headlong into the forest, unsure of what they’d encounter on their journey, but ready to face it all the same.

Probabilitor and his companions had wasted no time at all in setting up a camp deep in the magical forests of Gravity Falls. While the elf and the griffon stood guard in the event of any unwanted intruders, the wizard took the time to taunt his three captives, all of whom were attempting to struggle out of the rather tight bonds that kept them restrained to the large tree in the middle of the clearing.

“With each brain I eat, I shall increase my enchantelligence!” Probabilitor chortled as he used a magical tape measurer to get a count on Ford, Dipper, and Pearl’s heads.

“If my hands were free, I’d break every part of your face!” the author threatened fiercely.

“Not if I get to it first!” Pearl added just as sharply as she sent the wizard a cold glare.

“Squabble all you want,” Probabilitor chuckled darkly. “Either way, the time has come! Hot elf! Ready the brain-cooking pot!”

The elf let out an exasperated sigh, flipping his hood off to reveal his luminous silver hair. “Yes, Probabilitor,” he groaned, rolling his eyes as he took aim at the nearby caldron and ignited it with a flaming arrow.

“Haha! According to my calculations, your brains shall be a delicious part of my balanced wizard breakfast,” the wizard concluded to his captives with a triumphant smirk. “Or lunch. Or dinner. Or whatever mealtime it currently is.”

“Hmph, then clearly it seems that you’ve miscalculated,” Pearl retorted, turning her nose up haughtily. “Even if your ridiculous plan succeeded, you’d only have two brains to snack on anyway since I’m a Gem. Which means, I don’t have a brain.” A beat of curious silence passed at this as both Ford and Dipper sent Pearl questioning looks before she realized what she had just said. “Wait… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh believe me, I’m well aware of your relative brainlessness,” Probabilitor remarked with a knowing grin.

“Again, not what I meant!”

“Which is why I plan on grinding up that pretty little gemstone of yours into the perfect seasoning for brains à la carte!” the wizard finished before breaking down into yet another round of wild laughter.

“Well that’s… dark,” Dipper noted exchanging a concerned look with Pearl.

“You know, I’d almost rather be back at the temple, moping about how upset Garnet is with me…” the white Gem groaned, slumping against the ropes restraining her to the tree. That is, until she remembered just how unbearably tense things actually were between her and the Gem leader in light of what she had done. “Then again… maybe not…”

Though the mystical forest was quite dense, Mabel, Steven, Stan, and Grenda didn’t have a particularly hard time finding their way through it, mostly since they were easily able to follow the trail of griffon feathers that had unintentionally been left behind. So far, the group hadn’t encountered any obstacles or threats along the way, but even so, they were all still on high alert in the event that they did, their makeshift weapons at the ready to defend themselves from any dangers Probabilitor might put in their path.

“We must be getting close,” Stan noted, flinching as he slapped a past on his back. “These fairy bites are getting more frequent.”

“H-hey! Look! Listen!” the now squished fairy cried in pain as she lay crushed against the conman’s shoulder in a pile of glitter.

“I hope we’re not too late,” Steven said fretfully. “I’m not really sure how I’d be able to go back to the temple and explain to Garnet and Amethyst that Pearl got eaten by a crazy board game wizard. A lot of bad things have been happening lately, but I have a feeling that would probably take the cake…”

“Halt!” The group came to an abrupt stop as the massive, threatening ogre suddenly emerged from the nearby greenery, stomping down in front of them and barring the path ahead. “Yon interlopers are trespassing on the ancient forest of Probabilitor the wizard! If ye wish to pass, first, ye must complete seven unworldly quests, each more difficult than the-”

“NO!” Grenda suddenly shouted, brutally hitting the unsuspecting ogre with her heavy chair. The monster fell to the ground with a mighty thud, easily defeated and apparently unconscious, though based on his lack of breathing, he could have possibly been worse off than that.

“Is he… dead?” Mabel asked, poking the downed ogre with her rake.

“He’s magic, sweetie, I’m sure he’s fine,” Stan assured casually enough before turning to Grenda with a serious whisper. “There are no cops in the forest, we take this to our graves.”

Grenda nodded in agreement with this resolve, but even so, Steven and Mabel pressed onward, still clearly worried about their primary mission. “Well… I guess that’s one way to clear a path,” the young Gem noted as they passed by the supposedly unconscious ogre. “Maybe not the best way, but still, a way.”

It was clear from the increasing frequency of Probabilitor’s manic chuckles that his preparations for cooking his captives’ brains were nearly complete. Unfortunately though, despite their skill in Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons, Dipper, Ford, and Pearl had yet to think of a way out of their very real plight, one that could very well cost them all their lives if they didn’t escape from it soon.

“W-what do we do? What do we do?!” Dipper asked in a sharp, panicked whisper, hating how relatively defenseless all three of them were in this situation.

“Stop thinking, Dipper!” Ford retorted, trying to be as calm as possible, something that Pearl also tried to maintain, despite her own dread in this tight spot. “The more wrinkly your brain gets, the more he’ll want to eat it!”

“And now, a little math problem,” Probabilitor said as he stepped up to his trio of captives, a hungry grin claiming his face. “When I subtract your brains from your skulls,” he began, tapping both Dipper and Ford’s heads with his staff. “Add salt,” he lightly poked Pearl’s gemstone at this, causing the white Gem to cringe from the unexpected vibration. “And divide your families, what’s the remainder?”

“Your butt!”

“What?” the wizard asked, startled as he turned to face this unexpected voice. “My butt isn’t part of this particular equation!”

“And neither are we!” Mabel boldly proclaimed as her, Steven, Stan, and Grenda suddenly jumped out of the bushes, all of them still wielding their makeshift weapons brazenly.

“But here we are!” Steven chimed in before waving to the trio tied to the tree. “Hi, Dipper! Hi, Pearl! Hi, Mr. Ford!”

“Well, at least someone came to rescue us…” Pearl noted, though her tone alone conveyed her uncertainty about the group’s effectiveness in actually saving them.

“Drat! How did you get past my one guard?!” Probabilitor scowled, gripping his staff tightly. “Very well… There is one way you can save your family. You must defeat me in Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons: Real Life Edition!”

With a wild cackle, the wizard raised his staff, magic pouring out of it as a large, ornate game board, one that floated just a few feet off the ground just as Probabilitor himself had begun to.

“What? Oh come on!” Stan groaned, knowing that him trying to avoid having to play the complicated, rather boring game was what started this mess in the first place.

“I choose my characters…” Probabilitor continued, snapping his fingers to create three miniaturized, identical ogres on the game board. “Vs… yours!” Upon another burst of mathematical magic, the wizard pointed to his trio of captives, all of whom disappeared from their spot against the tree as he did. They reappeared an instant later, shrunken down themselves as they stood upon Probabilitor’s outstretched palm, unanimously startled by this unexpected shift. However, their size hadn’t been the only thing to change; each of them was now clad in the archaic attire befitting Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons characters, with Dipper and Ford both dressed in earthy adventuring clothes while Pearl had received something of a sparse knight’s armor.

“Ah! My ears! They’re so pointy!” Ford exclaimed, flicking his now elfish ears.

“T-there better be something protective under this tunic,” Dipper remarked before briefly turning around to check. “Oh no, there isn’t!”

“I don’t know what you two are complaining about,” Pearl smirked as she looked over the crimson cape her armor came equipped with. “I could get used to this…”

“Aw, you guys look so adorable!” Steven gasped with delight upon seeing the tiny trio.

“I know, right?” Mabel agreed just as brightly. “Makes me wish I had me camera on me to get a pic of how cute you guys are in your little fantasy outfits!”

“Ok, seriously, you guys, now is not the time!” Dipper scolded, sending a petulant look up at them.

“I’m with the kid, can’t we just arm wrestle or something?” Stan asked, far from enthused.

“Come on, this game is a lot of fun!” Probabilitor urged. “I even had my mom pack me a lunch,” he continued, pulling some apple slices out of his paper bag lunch. “Ew, apple slices? I’ll eat you last.”

“Ugh, just make with the rules already, ugly,” the conman rolled his eyes as him, Mabel, and Steven took a seat on the other side of the game board.

“The game is a battle royale,” the wizard began to explain. “We help out characters by casting spells determined by rolls of the dice. If you win, I’ll go back to my own dimension.”

“Hooray!” Steven and Mabel chimed in unison, hoping for such a peaceful outcome.

“But if I win, I eat their brains/gem!” Probabilitor grinned as he let Dipper, Ford, and Pearl down into the game board itself.

“Well,” Pearl remarked, crossing her arms. “That certainly seems like a risky gamble that only an absolute fool would-”

“Deal!” Stan exclaimed daringly.

“Oh boy…” Dipper sighed as Ford and Pearl shook their heads, all three of them quite concerned about their fate in what would no doubt be a dangerous game.

“Then let the game… BEGIN!” Probabilitor proclaimed, raising his hand before bringing it down and letting his dice roll out of it. The wizard landed a 13, giving him the perfect opportunity to dole out his first move. “Attack!” he ordered his trio of ogres as large, spiked clubs appeared in each of their hands. The creatures rushed towards Dipper, Ford, and Pearl, more than happy to swing their weapons at the group as they narrowly managed to dodge the heavy strikes.

“Oh come on!” Pearl exclaimed in severe annoyance as she tried to summon her spear, only for nothing to emerge from her Gem as a result of Probabilitor’s spell. “As if this entire thing couldn’t get any more aggravating!”

“Oh no!” Steven exclaimed worriedly as he watched this chaos unfold across the game board. “We have to help them!”

“W-what do we do? What are our moves?” Stan asked just as frantically.

“There are no moves!” Dipper shouted up to them as he barely managed to jump out of the way of one of the ogre’s bats. “You make them up!”

“What? Really?” the conman asked, surprised.

“But wait, isn’t this game super complicated?” Mabel asked, just as confused.

“No!” Pearl informed as though it was obvious. “Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons is actually quite simple once you get the hang of it!”

“That’s what I tried to tell you!” Ford added just as intently. “This game involves math, yes, but also risk, enthusiasm, and imagination!”

“Risk?” Stan asked as a smile slowly started to spread across his face.

“Enthusiasm?!” Steven asked, already quite pumped up.

“Imagination?” Mabel finished with a cheerful gasp. “Grunkle Stan, make something up! It’s just like lying!”

“Uh, then I cast, um… shield of… shielding?” Stan ventured, rolling the die and miraculously getting a 14. It was just enough to counter Probabilitor’s roll, and as such, a large, magical shield materialized in front of Dipper, Pearl, and Ford. The ogres’ clubs bounced cleanly off its sturdy surface as the trio crowded behind it, fully protected from any and all harm. “Ha! We’re doing it!” the conman exclaimed in triumph.

That triumph was short lived, however, as Probabilitor quickly made his next roll to cancel Stan’s out. “Shield of shielding reversal spell!” he shouted, and just like that, the magical shield disappeared into thin air, leaving the trio defenseless yet again. They scattered as one of the ogres brought his club down, but fortunately, Steven wasn’t about to leave them unprotected for long.

“I cast, uh… Crazy Fast Lightning Roller Skates!” the young Gem exclaimed, coming up with something off the top of his head as he rolled. Almost as soon as he did, Dipper, Pearl, and Ford all received their own pairs of electrically charged skates, ones that instantly propelled them forward at lighting-fast speeds. The skates were more than enough to get them past the slow, lumbering ogres and their bulky weapons, giving them ample space to prepare themselves to go on the offence as opposed to defense.

“Hot Flamey Sword!” Mabel proclaimed as sharp, fiery swords materialized in the trio’s hands. “Super Hot Flamey Sword!” she added a moment later, and each of the blades extended and the flames surrounding them grew even hotter and brighter.

As the swords solidified themselves, the trio skidded to a stop, their electrified skates still at the ready to send them zooming forward once more. The ogres charged towards them, their expressions fierce as they raised their clubs once again, ready to attack. Only this time, their assault would not go encountered.

“Dipper, stay behind me and Pearl!” Ford ordered his nephew, concerned for his safety amidst this massive beasts. “We’ll handle-” The author was cut off by Dipper’s own battle cry as he swiftly skated forward, flames bursting from his blade as he lashed out in a bold, fast move as he zoomed past one of the ogres. His attack struck true as the creature let out a sharp cry, disappearing into a puff of smoke mere seconds after the flaming sword sliced through it.

“Excellent form, Dipper!” Pearl exclaimed to her pupil brightly. “I can see you’ve been practicing!”

“Thanks!” Dipper called back as he prepared to take on one of the othe ogres. “I have!”

“H-how… where did he learn how to fight like that?” Ford asked, rather amazed at his nephew’s impressive skill with a blade.

“Where do you think?” Pearl asked with a proud smile. “I taught him everything he knows. Now, come on. Dipper can certainly handle himself against those brutes, but it just wouldn’t be fair to let him have all the fun, now would it?”

The author didn’t get much of a chance to respond as the white Gem hurried on ahead, jumping into the fray alongside her pupil. Ford wasn’t far behind and Steven, Mabel, and Stan cheered them on as they worked together to take out the remaining two ogres in record time, much to Probabilitor’s fury.

“No! Drat you! You’ll never outrun my-” the wizard paused as he rolled the dice, grinning wickedly as he made his next move. “Ogre-nado!” With this spell, a massive, spiraling tornado struck up, disembodied ogre heads flying around it as it chased after the trio and blew their swords away. “Ha! It is what it sounds like!” Probabilitor guffawed, watching with twisted delight as the trio ran from the monstrous storm.

“I cast: CENTAURTAUR!” Mabel shouted out of the blue, tossing the dice down onto the board to conjure up a rather nightmarish creature: a centaur with another horse for its head.

“G-goodness! That’s… alarming…” Pearl remarked, rather put off by such a bizarre amalgamation.

“Mabel, I am so confused and so proud right now,” Stan said, sending his niece a bewildered, but warm smile.

“Come on!” Dipper shouted to Pearl and Ford as they all ran for the centaurtaur. Though it was a bit awkward getting onto its double backs, they managed to get a good hold onto the creature long enough for it to carry them away from the approaching ogre-nado as Stan, Mabel, and Steven cheered them on all the while. As the centaurtaur passed into a smaller chamber on the board, both it and the ogre-nado abruptly fell apart, leaving Dipper, Ford, and Pearl safe once more. Or so they thought.

No sooner had the trio picked themselves up off the ground than they suddenly found themselves all pinned to the wall once more, this time by a large, grotesque winged creature with several limbs, tentacles, and two intensely fanged mouths. “Haha, yes!” Probabilitor laughed over his latest move. “I was saving the worst for last!”

“The Impossibeast!” Ford exclaimed in apt surprise. “Hey, I thought they banned this character!”

“Think again!” the wizard grinned deviously. “I’m playing the controversial 1991-1992 edition!”

“W-well this is ok!” Steven reassured as he prepared to roll the dice again. “We’ll just come up with some new weapons and-”

“It’s not that simple,” Pearl interjected fretfully, struggling to break free from the Impossibeast’s iron grip. “From what I remember, this monster is the most powerful creature in the entire game!”

“He can only be defeated by rolling a perfect 38,” Ford added, his tone just as grave. “But the odds of that are-”

“Hey, long odds are what you want when you’re a world class gambler,” Stan cut in with a sly smirk as he took the dice and shook them in his hands. “Alright, Stan, you can do this… Papa needs a new pair of… twins!” Wirth this, the conman tossed the die onto the board, the others taking in a collective deep breath as they hoped that luck would be with him, as the entire game depended on this one singular roll. In an instant that seemed like ages, the die struck the board, rolling across it before finally, fortunately landing on that sought after 38.

“NO!” Probabilitor cried, dumbfounded by disbelief over this effective turn of the tide.

“Ha! Sorry, nerd wizard!” Stan laughed in triumph as Dipper, Pearl, and Ford all let out a shared sigh of relief. “But all your smarts are no match for dumb luck!”

“We cast DEATH MUFFINS!” Mabel and Steven proclaimed in excitable unison, knowing that this move would certainly be for the win. At this, glimmering muffins with an explosive edge to them appeared in each of the trios’ free hands. They didn’t even have to think twice about what to do with them as they simultaneously launched them into the Impossibeast’s wide-open maw, watching with anticipation as the creature swallowed all three of them whole. The effect was almost immediate, for mere seconds later, the death muffins exploded, taking the Impossibeast out along with them in a blinding flash of light.

“Yes!” Stan, Mabel, and Steven cheered in elated unison at this hard-earned win as the game concluded. In a flash, the board disappeared and in its place, Dipper, Ford, and Pearl all reappeared, restored to their normal sizes and clothing with only non-explosive death muffins remaining. An air of celebration rang throughout the group, especially as Steven and Mabel both caught Dipper off guard in a sudden, but welcome hug, glad to have finally rescued him as well as Pearl and Ford.

“The game is, like, over,” the hot elf remarked, shutting the rule book amidst Grenda hugging him tightly, as she had been doing for most of the game. “Excelci-whatever.”

“No!” Probabilitor cried in defeat as him and his companions began to dematerialize. “I’m returning to my own realm! I’m turning into pure math! What are the ooooooooddds?!” The wizard’s final cry hung on the air as he disappeared into equations and grids until nothing remained of him or his wicked intent at all.

“Hmph, serves him right,” Pearl remarked with a satisfied smirk as Steven caught her legs in a sudden embrace, which she gladly returned. “Wanting to crush my gem is one thing, but wanting to use it as a mere seasoning? That was simply absurd.”

“Grunkle Stan, that was amazing!” Dipper exclaimed with a wide smile. “How’d you know you would win?”

“Heh, a gambler never reveals his secrets,” then conman winked as he retrieved the 38 sided die, which he had happened to stick a bit of gum to the side of in order to ensure his perfect 38 roll.

“Man, that really was fun for ages 8 to 80!” Mabel noted with a grin. “Or a million. Or however old you guys are.”

“Yeah, I wish we had tried actually playing the game earlier,” Steven agreed. “I didn’t know what we were missing out on! Electric skates and centaurtaurs and death muffins… What more could anyone want?!”

“Indeed…” Pearl chuckled, though her smile faded somewhat as she turned to Ford. “Er, um… Stanford? I, uh… well I just wanted to say… thank you. Things have been rather… difficult for me lately, but… your offer to pick up our old past time again gave me a much-needed distraction and a reminder of how much fun we used to have together back in the day. I have to admit… I missed this.”

“As did I,” Ford returned her warm grin with complete sincerity. “By the way… I’ve heard about… what happened between you and Garnet. And if there’s anything I can do to help, anything at all, then please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

The white Gem sighed somewhat sadly at this, wrapping her arms around herself as she looked down briefly. “I’m not sure if there’s anything anyone can do but… I appreciate the thought.”

“Uh, hey, Pearl?” Dipper cut in after this exchange, somewhat hesitant as he averted his teacher’s gaze. “I’m, uh… sorry about the Ancient Sea Blade. I know I promised I’d be carefully with it, but I guess I was kinda reckless back at the shack, and I did what you always tell me not to do in a fight and I acted too quickly and… well, you saw what happened to it…”

“Oh, Dipper,” Pearl laughed once more, her tone gentle and reassuring as she placed a hand on her young pupil’s shoulder. “I’m not angry about the Ancient Sea Blade. I’m just that you’re safe. And that you managed to fend off those ogres as skillfully as you did.”

“Well, I learned from the best,” Dipper shrugged, glad that the white Gem didn’t take the loss of her sword harshly whatsoever.

“You certainly did,” Pearl smiled proudly. “Though of course, this means we’ll have to outfit you with a new sword at some point, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, right?”

Dipper happily nodded in agreement with this, though unbeknownst to him or Pearl, Ford was already busy at work pondering on what the white Gem had just said. “A new sword…” the author muttered to himself, an idea striking him as he thought of what would be an excellent way to show his nephew his genuine appreciation.

“Y’know…” Stan began somewhat sheepishly as he garnished his nephew’s attention next. “I’m sorry to you too, kiddo, for making fun of your game. Sure, it might be too nerdy for me, but its just the right amount of nerdy for you and my brother. And Pearl, I guess, but we all already knew she was a huge nerd.”

“Oh wow, thank you, Stan,” Pearl deadpanned, though all the same, she had a smile on her face.

“Anyway,” the conman continued after sending the white Gem a brief cursory look. “If you wanna hang out with Ford sometimes, I won’t get in your way.”

“Actually, after all that, I think I could use a little mindless fun,” Dipper remarked with a small laugh, more than ready to rest after such a harrowing adventure.

“Guys! We can still watch the second showing of the Dogcopter/Ducktective crossover!” Grenda interjected boisterously. “It’s not too late! Now let’s GO!”

Sure enough, everyone made it back to the Mystery Shack just in time to catch the start of the crossover’s second airing. Steven, Mabel, Grenda, Dipper, Stan, and Soos all crowded into the den, disregarding the hole still present in the wall as they watched Ducktective and Dogcopter get into a heated argument as the third act of the special began.

“Oh no! Dogcopter and Ducktective shouldn’t fight!” Steven cried fretfully as he watched the animals’ subtitled quarrel. “They were getting along so well, what happened?!”

“The usual late in the game misunderstanding,” Soos shook his head disapprovingly. “Ya see it all the time in just about everything these days.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe they’d do something so cliché and predictable!” Mabel huffed, unwittingly spilling her snacks all over Stan’s lap. “We waited so long for this?!”

“What a rip off!” Grenda exclaimed, far from pleased.

“Seriously, what kinda two-bit hack wrote this junk?” Stan asked, though even despite the collective anger in the room, they all still watched the rest of the special intently, all of them secretly curious to see where it might lead.

Later that evening, after the thoughts of insane mathematical wizards and zany animal crossovers had been put to rest, Dipper ended up finding himself down in the basement lab once more as per Ford’s request. While everyone else had been watching the crossover, the author had apparently been collaborating with Pearl on something, but whatever it was seemed to be a surprise that Ford didn’t reveal, at least not immediately. Instead, he greeted his nephew warmly and presented him with the infinity sided die once more before sealing it tight in its case and locking it away in one of the many compartments of the basement’s large glass cabinet.

“Well, this ought to be safe and sound now,” Ford concluded with a satisfied grin. “It’ll be here if you ever need it.”

“Really?” Dipper asked with a frown. “Even after it got us into that huge mess earlier?”

“Eh, we both got carried away,” the author remarked with a hint of warmth in his tone. “I guess we’d both gone a while without a friend.”

Dipper couldn’t help but smile upon hearing this, feeling genuinely grateful for the solidarity and camaraderie that had been unexpectedly given to him by none other than the author of the journals himself. In light of the apparent hints of distance he had been feeling between himself and Mabel and Steven as of late, he appreciated the chance to be in the company of someone who not only shared similar interests to him, but truly respected him for his intelligence and verve. And in the end, not only had he gotten what he had wanted in finding a place for himself under the author’s wizened wing, but he had managed to form a solid, comfortable bond with his newfound great uncle. A bond that he had no intentions of every trying to break any time soon.

“Speaking of which…” Ford continued after a beat of silence, a small, sly smile spreading across his face. “I must say I was quite impressed with your surprising ability with a blade that you demonstrated earlier.”

“Oh, w-well, its nothing,” Dipper remarked somewhat bashfully, not really liking to play up those aforementioned abilities too frequently. “I’m still sort of a beginner after all…”

“Well, from what Pearl told me, you’ve progressed marvelously,” the author said, now holding something he had retrieved from his desk behind his back. “Which is why I asked her to help me put a little… something together for you. And the result of our craftsmanship is something I think you just might like.” Ford could no longer contain his full smile as he held out what he had been hiding for his nephew to finally see. Even upon a first glance, Dipper let out a surprised gasp at the sight of the beautiful falchion sword laid across the author’s outstretched hands, its blade covered by a simple sheath as its hilt presented a comfortable-looking grip and a curvaceous, well-designed guard. Ford noticed his nephew’s hesitance in taking such an exquisite gift, which was why he let out a small chuckle before nodding him on ahead. “Go on, my boy, take it. It is yours after all.”

Dipper mostly let go of his hesitance at this, finally taking the sword and carefully unsheathing it to find that its sharp, metallic blade contained hints of intricate technology to it, with bright lines of circuitry running across it in neat, organized lines. “Whoa…” he mused, his eyes wide with amazement as he looked over it. “It’s… amazing…”

“It certainly is, and in more than just looks too,” Ford remarked proudly, his hands behind his back. “Do you see that small dial on the pommel?” He pointed to said dial, which was divided between four vibrant colors: red, blue, yellow, and green, with the first of those being the one it was apparently set on. “Press down on it and see what happens.”

Curious, Dipper did so, only to gasp in alarm as the circuitry on the sword suddenly lit up, the blade igniting itself in bright, hot flames. “W-whoa!” he exclaimed, holding the fiery sword far out from him. “I-is this supposed to be happening?!”

“Yes, it works exactly as intended!” Ford chimed as he reached to turn the knob to the next setting. As soon as he did, the fire quelled itself, the blade glowing blue as its heat was replaced with a bitterly cold aura of misty frost. “You could say that I was a bit inspired by our rather… fantastical adventure earlier today when designing this. Those ‘flamey swords’ Mabel came up with in particular helped me envision the direction I wanted to go in with this invention. As did Steven’s ‘electric skates’.” With another turn of the dial, the sword burst into bright yellow sparks, lightning cackling from it, but fortunately never leaving the immediate surface of the blade itself. Ford turned the dial one last time, shifting the sword’s color to green as a powerful gust of wind, almost akin to a controlled tornado, struck up around the blade before it ultimately dissipated into nothing as the author pressed the pommel again, shutting the sword down. “It was quite an interesting project to take on in such a short notice, but I think I did a rather exemplary job, if I do say so myself,” Ford continued brightly. “The modifications were entirely of my design, but I do have Pearl to thank for giving me the base sword, as well as thinking up a name for it: the Sword of Seasons. Fitting, isn’t it?”

“The Sword of Seasons…” Dipper repeated with a smile as he looked to his new blade with immense satisfaction before properly sheathing it. “Yes, it is. And thank you so much, Great Uncle Ford. This thing is seriously so cool!”

“Yes, well, I’m glad I could equip you with a new one after what happened today,” Ford said, still beaming. “And of course, I’m sure you’ll use it wisely, so it was more than worth the trouble.” A beat of warmth passed between the pair, one that the author felt was far too short lived as he took the smallest glance at the curtain-covered window behind him. Behind which were secrets that he knew he finally had to come clean about, at least to someone. “Dipper… can I tell you something?” he ventured, his manner turning serious, almost grave even.

“Y-yeah, of course,” Dipper nodded, noting the author’s sudden shift in behavior, his own shifting right along with it.

“You asked me what I was working on earlier. Well…” Ford began, hesitating for a moment before finally pulling back the curtain to reveal the portal on the other side of it. Or rather, what little now remained of it. “I dismantled the portal. To be honest, I should have done this from the very moment Rose told me to years ago… An interdimensional gateway is too dangerous for the world it feeds into. That’s why I was mad at Stan for using it. He saved me, but as I feared, the instability of the machine created this:” The author pulled out a small, spherical glass globe, its appearance fortified but rather unassuming. What was contained within the globe, however, was much more fascinating: a formless, shapeless cloud of what almost looked to be the radiant depths of space itself, swirling within its petite containment unit without any sort of rhyme or reason. It was in a state of constant change, its glow casting light throughout the dimly lit basement as it seemed to pulsate with an unknown power. A power that felt both intriguing and catastrophic all at once. “Its an interdimensional rift,” Ford explained, keeping his voice low as he held onto the base of the glob tightly. “I’ve contained it for now, but its incredibly dangerous, which means it must remain safe and secure and most of all, secret. Dipper, I don’t want you to tell anyone about this. Not Stan, not the Gems, not even your sister. Understand?”

For a moment, the most Dipper could do was remain silent in light of the incredibly heavy weight Ford had just unexpectedly put upon his shoulders. Sure enough, the author had let him in on an incredibly guarded secret, one that could, as far as he knew, put the town, maybe even the entire world at risk if not well kept. But to keep such a secret from those he trusted most, to hide something so monumental and so important from his family, his friends, his sister? If he was perfectly honest with himself, Dipper wasn’t sure if he could withstand that kind of pressure to uphold such a vow of untold silence. And yet… he knew that he would ultimately have to. The amount of genuine trust and reliance Ford was placing in him, to tell him and no one else, not even his old research partners, the Gems, about this rift could not be betrayed. In fact, Dipper refused to let himself betray that trust out of sheer conviction alone. It wasn’t a matter of trying to prove to the author that he could handle this; it was a matter of protecting this incredible important, incredibly fragile object before him. And as far as he knew, the only way he could really protect it, was to remain silent about it, just as Ford had said.

“I—uh, o-of course,” Dipper nodded a moment later, putting as much resolve into his tone as he could as he met the author’s expectant gaze squarely.

Ford nodded in acceptance at this, letting out a small sigh of relief as he pulled the rift a bit closer to him. “Thank you,” he said with genuine gratitude. “In my time, I’ve made many powerful enemies, but I trust you with this secret. Now, get to bed. I have much research to do. And as I said before, take care with that new sword of yours!”

“I will,” Dipper promised just as sincerely, gripping the Sword of Seasons tight to his chest as he turned to head back upstairs, as if it alone could protect the immense secret he had just sworn to keep. “Goodnight, Great Uncle Ford.”

“Goodnight, Dipper,” Ford called back with a warm smile, one that disappeared as soon as his nephew left the room. The author let out a tired sigh, looking down to the rift in his hands once again, its relative weightlessness seemingly making it feel all the more heavy in a way. He knew he ran a risk telling just about anyone at all about this dimensional tear that could just as easily rip its way through existence itself, but he firmly did believe that Dipper would keep this secret well. Just as he readily believed Rose could have if she were still around today, though Ford figured he’d just have to make to with whom he had.

So, the author put the rift away, tucking it safely back in its hidden place in the compartment at his desk, hoping to get some peace of mind with it put out of his sight. But even so, the rift continued radiating its hauntingly beautiful glow, its ever-shifting clusters of stars carrying the fate of existence itself upon them. An existence that could just as easily come to a violent, destructive end if it ever fell into the wrong hands…

Next: 

[imagine-loki]

The Baseborn Princess and the Aesir Prince

TITLE: The Baseborn Princess and the Aesir Prince

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 7 AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a bastard daughter of a king of a far-off realm, the product of his drunken loneliness at battle. His guilt of cheating on his wife drove him to send you to live on Midgard, but due to the fact that his other children (and his wife) adore you, you’re often invited to visit. RATING: Teen and Up

Loki held Clodagh’s hand as they walked through the palace. Some of the princesses were still walking around, some had left to go home already. They watched as Loki and Clodagh walked by, even paying attention to how Loki stood protectively next to her. There were whispers and looks, but they paid little heed to them. They did not stop until Loki brought her to a corridor she had never seen before, there were only a few doors on it and all spread apart and with guards outside every room. He walked to the far end, to the largest doors, gold emblems covered it. It did not take more than a second to know whose they were. Loki knocked twice and a servant answered, they walked in and requested to speak with his parents. The servant told them that the Allmother and Allfather were currently elsewhere, but that they would retrieve them, so to remain there as they sought them.

Loki brought Clodagh to a chair to sit, but she never reached the seat, instead, she rushed off to the other side of the room. Confused he looked to see where she was going, smiling a moment later when he realised who was there.

‘Hey boys, did you miss me?’ The two ravens cawed. ‘Hey, I have two hands, don’t worry, I can play with you both. So...what did you do after I left yesterday, hmm?’ One of them toyed with her hair. ‘Well I hardly meant him, I haven’t seen this one in three days, I thought I offended you.’ The other raven cawed.

Loki watched as she interacted with the two birds. They seemed to almost speak with her, it was incredible to see two animals he had known to always be very reserved be so animated with her. He realised then that they were far more outgoing than he realised, and why his father always kept them. He turned slightly to sit down only to realise that his parents had entered the room again without their noticing. His father watching curiously as Clodagh spoke with the birds, scratching Muninn’s chin. ‘He’s never let me do that.’

Clodagh turned slightly, startled to hear more voices in the room. ‘You mustn’t do it right then.’ She smiled as Huginn tossed some of her hair in his beak, looking for more attention. ‘Fine, you spoilt featherbrain.’ She smiled as she toyed with the feathered between his eyes.

Loki found himself laughing at the fact that the first time Clodagh had met every member of his family, she had not shown one of them the correct manner of greeting. He looked to his mother, who seemed to be thinking the same and then to his father, who knew of her slight fault and was incredibly curious as to her actions nonetheless. ‘We returned a few minutes ago.’ Loki informed his parents, knowing better than to draw attention to Clodagh’s slight faux pas.

‘How was Alfheim?’

‘Incredibly peaceful, bar a fox that seemed to think I was planning to steal its spot.’

‘Rua has slept there for several years, you shouldn’t have sat there, I warned you.’

‘It was the warmest seat in the house and that fox has a thick coat.’

‘Well he was there before you, so you have to lump it.’ She stated factually. ‘I couldn’t come in here and expect you guys to give me your perch, could I?’ She asked the ravens, immediately, Huginn moved to one side and Muninn the other making considerable room in the middle. ‘Is that for me?’ they both cawed. ‘Well, you two are just too good.’

The Aesir royals watched in awe as Clodagh seemed to forget where she even was to interact with the animals.

‘She is going to insult and blank every Lord and foreign dignitary in this realms.’ Odin chuckled.

‘They need a good dressing down most of them.’ Frigga smiled back before walking over to Clodagh. ‘Your father and...what do you call Lydia?’

‘Just Lydia.’

‘I see, they are anxious to know of your return.’ Clodagh looked away. ‘It is important that this all is done properly.’

‘There’s nothing proper about it though.’

Frigga tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement of the fact. ‘True, but I dare say you don’t want to be giving the little brats more to comment on.’ She linked her arm and gently pulled Clodagh away from the two ravens and passed Loki, who quickly joined them. ‘Family is important, I know you love your siblings terribly, they are all here and are very insistent on seeing you.’

‘But how could they have thought I would be back?’

‘You are known to be stubborn, but I suppose I can leave you in on a little secret now you are marrying my son…..Loki is as stubborn as a mule, he gets it from his father.’

‘I heard that.’ Odin growled.

‘Did I sound like I was whispering?’ She gave a side glance at her husband. ‘Loki stay here.’

‘NO!’ Immediately Clodagh reached out for Loki, who took her hand in his. ‘I can’t do this alone, I need him there.’

‘But your family…’

‘When Sika and Lydia were told of Hogun and my brother’s partners, they were seen as family right then, that stands for me too, if they asked that we have time as family, it always includes partners, it is the Light Elf way.’ Frigga could not argue that and nodded slightly, leaving Loki to take Clodagh to her family, neither speaking en route.

When they arrived at the area of the palace that held where her family were staying, Clodagh paused outside the room. ‘Hey, are you okay?’ Loki looked at her in concern.

‘I don’t know.’ She admitted. ‘I know I love them, but I never felt….They aren’t really….a family is more than genetic links.’

‘Yes, it is, but they love you, you matter to them, they are your family.’ Loki insisted. ‘You should have seen Amelia’s face when you left, she wanted to tear Laura apart, your brothers, they had to be restrained physically when Laura’s father acted as though she did nothing wrong.’

‘Pointing out the truth is not wrong.’

‘If she said to you in private, can I ask if you are….illegitimate, that is not being cruel and vindictive, she, however, declared to the whole room that you were and called you a horrific word doing it, then she tried to justify herself. There is no justifying that.’ Loki kissed her chastely. ‘Come on.’ He knocked on the door and a maid answered, immediately making room when she realised who was standing there.

On walking in, Amelia, who was sitting between Hogun and Eoin rushed to her feet and hugged her sister to her. ‘Clods.’ she cried into her sister’s shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It wasn’t your fault.’

‘She is so horrible, you missed the Allmother and Loki tearing her apart in the hall for what she did, it was brilliant.’ Amelia promised.

‘I suffered humiliation, it does not mean I approve of others suffering it.’ Clodagh gave Loki a small glance, Loki looked back unapologetically.

Her brothers and their families spoke with her too, her nephew sitting on her lap, adoring her attention as she made funny faces and tickled him, giving him her full attention as she played with him. Loki watched her, she was similar with the child as she was with animals, kind and caring with a genuine smile on her face. He noted the absence of Sika once more and frowned. For a moment, his eye caught Lydia’s and she seemed to read his thoughts and indicated to the other room. Loki said nothing but his face said everything. Standing back slightly as Eoin spoke with his sister, he became still.

Loki left his doppelganger in the room with Clodagh and his family and teleported himself into the other room, there he saw King Sika sitting looking out at Asgard. The king seemed to realise he was no longer alone and looked around, frowning to Loki. ‘You brought her back.’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank goodness.’ it was clear from Sika’s tone and features that he was relieved, but still, he remains in a separate room, away from her.

‘I need to ask why you do this.’ Loki stated, walking forward. ‘Clodagh is so incredible, so kind and good and you clearly know this yet you treat her as though she is a pariah.’

‘She is not…’

‘Of course she isn’t, hence you being in here and not out there talking to her, reassuring her that what was said to her yesterday is nothing but lies and envy, and of course, you were so forthcoming with defending her when Laura verbally attacked her and called her a…’

‘Don’t.’ Sika begged. ‘Don’t call her that word.’

‘When you say nothing against those that call her it, you condone her being called it. You acting as though she does not exist until my mother brought her here tells people she is only something to be gossiped about.’ Loki stated. ‘You claim to hate that word but do you know Clodagh calls herself that, she hates how she came to be so much she thinks that it is an apt term for her.’ Sika swallowed shamefully. ‘You are the reason she cannot accept herself, the way you act regarding her…’

‘Lydia…’

‘Queen Lydia adores her, Lydia wants to be recognised as her stepmother and accept her into your house but she cannot because Clodagh is your daughter biologically and as a result, only you can start the process. Your sons maintain she and Amelia should have been raised as twins and no one be allowed to know the truth.’ Loki informed him. ‘You are so busy worrying about insulting Lydia, who has long accepted all of this that you have done nothing but insult Clodagh, making her feel as though she is not worthy.’

‘It was all my fault, I…’

‘You have her thinking it is hers, you do know that? It’s odd, my father tells me of the valiant manner you fought the Tridiens, yet the man I see before is frightened to love his daughter. How do you think she feels when she sees you love your other children, how do you think that feels? Do you know her, do you know how beautiful and pure she is? You think her filthy and sordid, yet she is as pure as the freshest snow, but how could you know, you refuse to get to know her.’

Sika looked sadly at the door, knowing that in the room on the other side, his daughter along with his wife and other children, sat in the room and thought of Loki’s words. ‘You care for her?’

‘I do.’ Loki confirmed.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

So my friend and I absolutely love your blog. She recently broke her leg and nose, and is currently in the hospital. She loved your first kiss head cannon. And she just told me how much she would love to read another. I would love to surprise her with another first kiss head cannon. If you have time she would really appreciate it.

Aww, Nonny, I’m glad I’m one of your favourite places! I hope your friend is alright! I’ll try something here, hope she likes it!

“John.”

Said man sighed heavily to himself, his eye twitching, hidden from Sherlock’s view behind the newspaper John was attempting to read in his chair.

“JOHN.” More forceful this time, tinged with annoyance.

Maybe if he pretended Sherlock wasn’t there, Sherlock wouldn’t see him.

“JOHN.”

A pillow hits John in the head. Apparently not; Sherlock sees John perfectly fine enough to aim directly for his head and have the pillow land on top of the newspaper he was reading so that it crunches out of his hands.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Yes, Sherlock, were you requiring my attention?” John asks sarcastically, turning slowly to look at the man pouting on the sofa, his casted broken foot propped up onto one arm of the sofa, and the rest of him sprawled out dramatically across the rest of it. The look of utter annoyance on Sherlock’s face is more than enough to know what John is about to hear next.

“I’m SO BORED,” Sherlock complains, attempting to not make it sound like a whinge but failing spectacularly. As if to prove his point, Sherlock flops one of his arms over his eyes and the other hangs down off the sofa. His good leg flops off the sofa, straight out. His toes curl in and out, which John takes as a sign that his frustration levels with the situation have reached that precipice dividing “stroppy Sherlock” from “unbearable tyrant”, usually ending in a huge verbal fight, John leaving the flat for a few hours and the two of them feeling awkward with each other for days. John does not like those moments; time to diffuse before it ends in tears. John knew that it was mostly being brought on by Sherlock wanting John to pay attention to him, more than it being actual boredom.

“Really?” John feigns incredulity, which for some reason always flies right over Sherlock’s head. “And what would make you not bored?” John starts to get up out of his chair and heads to the kitchen to make some tea.

“Let me take off my cast, John.” The ‘obviously’ is implied in the statement. John rolls his eyes as he puts water into the kettle and flicks it on.

“Well, you git,” John starts, rooting around the cupboard for some peppermint tea and honey, “you wouldn’t have needed one in the first place if you hadn’t jumped three stories into a skip.” John glances back at Sherlock, who has taken up watching John upside down as he hangs his torso off the sofa. “Which is Not Good, by the way.” Sherlock actually looks mildly chastened by this. “And then to not only not wait for me to get down there to help you out, but hop out of the skip on said broken foot, chase after the suspect and then tackle him, and then NOT TELL ME you broke your foot until Lestrade’s team left and you finally allowed yourself to start limping.”

The pout on Sherlock’s face was, John admitted, annoyingly adorable. “But I caught the criminal and solved the case, ” Sherlock mumbled.

 “You did indeed, Sherlock. But that’s no excuse for hiding a broken foot for almost 2 hours. You’re lucky it wasn’t anything more serious than a hairline fracture.” The kettle boiled, and John poured Sherlock’s tea, adding extra honey into it. It was a treat he often gave to Sherlock in times when Sherlock’s moods were really black. It was also useful in making an impending dark mood dissipate immediately, for some reason. He poured his own tea and added milk. John grabbed the two mugs and proceeded out into the common room toward the sofa upon which Sherlock was liquefying. Sherlock’s gaze watched him the entire time, John noticing it already losing its irritated gleam now that John was paying him attention. ‘Just like a puppy,’ John thought fondly as he set Sherlock’s tea on the table in front of the sofa, and sat himself into the space currently not occupied by Sherlock. 

“I wasn’t hiding it,” Sherlock huffed trying to reach for the tea upside down.

“You were, and no!” John reached over and grabbed the teacup from the table. “I’m not having you burn yourself too because you’re in a stubborn strop. Now sit up proper, you can’t drink your tea upside down.”

Sherlock snorted, “I most certainly can!” He tried to reach for the retreating teacup, but failed as John put it on his own side table.

“No, you can’t. Now come up here and sit proper. Your back is going to kill you later.”

“Yes, doctor,” Sherlock muttered under his breath. He heaved himself up to a sitting position, and, to John’s surprise, scooted his bum into John’s hip and pressed his back against John’s shoulder. “Tea, John,” Sherlock demanded as he held his hands out to his side, awaiting John to pass his tea to him.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” John admonished halfheartedly, not really annoyed at all since Sherlock’s mood was already immensely improved all because he could now be closer to John. Imagine that.

John had suspected awhile ago that Sherlock had at least some affection for John, at least where touching was concerned. Sherlock seemed to, since John’s return to 221B, go out of his way to create situations wherein John either touched him or make John notice him. John thinks it’s an underlying fear that John isn’t actually living there, that Sherlock is dreaming it all, and needs to prove to himself that John does, in fact, reside with him once again, and the only way Sherlock can do that, in his mind, is to experiment. 

Sherlock is a scientist at heart, after all. 

The thought breaks John’s heart, if he’s honest with himself. He’s loved Sherlock for so long in every imaginable definition of the word, and the thought that he himself had instilled that insecurity into Sherlock tears him up inside.

John hands Sherlock his teacup, which Sherlock delicately takes and brings around himself to his lips. He hums contentedly, which John feels through his shoulder. A second, bigger sip is heard, and a surprised “oh” escapes Sherlock’s lips. “You added extra honey!” he says, turning his head so he can see John in his peripheral vision.

“Well, you’re doing your best to try to convince me that you’re ill and deserve pampering,” John chuffs as he sips his own tea, holding it steady as Sherlock attempts to turn his torso around to look at John better. 

“I’m not ILL, John. I’m merely incapacitated.” Sherlock pointedly lifts his casted foot up a little, then back down with a thump. “And I don’t need ‘pampering’”.

“Oh, well then if you feel that way about it…” John pretends he’s getting up off the sofa. As expected, Sherlock leans into John harder to keep him in his place.

“Maybe a little won’t go unappreciated,” Sherlock mumbles, now making sure John sees him take a hearty gulp of tea. He turns back so his back is now leaning once again into John. John chuckles and sits back into the sofa. 

John sips his tea. “Glad to know. But you can still take care of yourself, you nutter.”

The sharp inhale he hears from Sherlock catches John’s attention, as does Sherlock’s quiet, “Not anymore.”

Now it’s John who turns his torso towards Sherlock which must have caught Sherlock off guard since he tumbles back into John’s chest and is now looking up at John’s face. “Why would you say that, Sherlock?” John is genuinely curious, but he thinks he knows the answer.

Sherlock’s eyes look off to the side, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. He sighs heavily, then looks up at John again. “Because it’s true.” Sherlock gestures to his broken foot. “This happened because I’m a stubborn fool who does things without thinking it through…” Sherlock gulps heavily, “and because I want to impress you.” Sherlock’s cheeks colour a bit, trying to hide it by sitting up a bit so he can sip his tea. “The only reason I even went to cast it is because you told me to.” Sherlock picks an invisible fluff off of his own shirt sleeve. “Left to my own devices…” Heavy breath from his nose. “I’m lost without you, John.”

“Sherlock…” John says softly, putting down his own tea. ‘God, I did this to him,’ John thinks as Sherlock leans back into him, looking anywhere but at John. “You know that that’s not true.” John is sure that Sherlock doesn’t know but it never hurts to voice this.

Sherlock merely returns his gaze back to John’s eyes, sadness ever-present within the depths of his stare.

“Oh, Sherlock.” John shuffles his arm out from under Sherlock and wraps it around him, his other hand taking Sherlock’s teacup from Sherlock’s shaking hands and putting it on the side table next to John’s. He feels Sherlock shudder a breath as John wraps his other arm around Sherlock, and nosing his face into Sherlock’s hair. “You silly, silly man.” 

Sherlock’s hands reach up for John’s head, pushing it away from his own head. John is confused for only a moment until Sherlock’s head falls further down his chest and Sherlock pulls John to his own face, lips crashing against each other at an odd angle. John grunts a startled “Mmmph!” at the contact. Sherlock is breathing heavily through his nose and John can feel his rapid pulse beating through the fingers holding John’s head in a death grip. John tries to pull away, but Sherlock grunts his disagreement and pulls John tighter to his face, wanting John to feel all the things he cannot say.

At least that’s how John interprets it, anyhow.

“Sirrrock,” John tries to speak from his squished lips. This seems to make Sherlock suddenly aware of what he’s done, because he lets go of John’s head as if burned, and the deer-in-headlights look on his face breaks John’s heart. John is certain that if Sherlock hadn’t broken his foot – and if John wasn’t holding him so tightly –  Sherlock would have flounced off and hid in his room for days. 

“John, oh god, I don’t know –” Sherlock started, his face beet red and his hands shaking where they hover above his head. John reaches for Sherlock’s hands and tuck them against Sherlock’s chest, under his own where John is hugging Sherlock tightly. Sherlock blinks rapidly, trying to comprehend why John hasn’t shoved Sherlock away.

“Shh,” John hushes. “I couldn’t breathe, you git.” John realigns his head so that their lips can capture each other more softly. John gently tastes Sherlock’s bottom lip – like peppermint and honey – suckling and tonguing at it, letting Sherlock know that this is what John wants. Sherlock’s breathing slows slightly as his mouth opens, welcoming John unto its depths. 

The kissing starts softly, with Sherlock’s upper lip braving at joining in on the action. Sherlock wiggles his hands free from under John’s grip and replaces them back on John’s head, pushing John into his face once again. He becomes slightly more enthusiastic at this point, now insisting on sucking on John’s lips. 

Sherlock is a terrible kisser, John thinks with fondness, but he doesn’t mind in the least. It’s endearing, actually, because Sherlock’s enthusiasm is making up for it, turning his head this way and that as best as he can from his reclined position, sometimes missing John’s lips all together and sucks on the corner of John’s mouth at one point. John giggles at this, which causes Sherlock to pull John’s head away so he can look him in the eyes again. 

John smiles brightly. “Hey.”

Sherlock must have seen something that pleased him, because his eyes twinkle, and the eye corners crinkle in that way that they do when Sherlock is genuinely, truly happy. He pulls John’s head to himself again, and touches their foreheads together, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose. Sherlock’s arms come up around John’s neck and plays with the hair at the base of his head tentatively. It sends a shiver down John’s spine, which Sherlock must feel, because Sherlock continues to do it a little more confidently.

“I’m feeling better now, John,” Sherlock says softly, stroking his nimble fingers along the base of John’s skull reverently. “You’ve got the healing touch, Doctor.”

“Yeah?” John chuckles, his own hands smoothing along Sherlock’s chest, up his neck, and back down. “Mm, my patients will be pleased to know.”

The sudden stillness and horrified silence from Sherlock is comical to John. “No,” Sherlock blurts. “It only works for ME, John.” He states this matter-of-factly. “No one else.”

John can’t help but giggle at the seriousness of Sherlock’s demeanour. He moves his head so that they’re touching cheek-to-cheek.

“John, I’m serious!”

“I know, Sherlock,” John says, pulling himself upright, which cause Sherlock to shift practically into John’s lap given his reluctance to let go of John’s neck.

“I think you should prescribe me another dose.” Sherlock wiggles his toes. “I think I’m feeling a bit bored again.” He grins mischievously, turning in John’s lap so they’re facing each other.

“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” John pets Sherlock’s arm as the other settles on around his neck.

Cheshire grin, Sherlock pushes forward once again, this time seeming a bit better at the kiss now that he’s at a better angle. 

And there they sit muttering sweet nothings and confessions between kisses, tasting the sweetness of “I love you”, the bitterness of revelations and unspoken words, the tang of confessions of love discovered. They share in the glow of love confirmed, and the warmth of hearts once broken now made whole. They fall asleep together, there on the sofa, wrapped up in each other’s hearts.