#i am dreadfully slow and i just spent a full two hours thinking about this D: i am so sorry but

[leias-left-hair-bun-again]

Weird Writing Asks:

10, 19, 22, 26, 36

You don't have to answer all of them. 😂 That's a lot.

ksljfks not at all, i see this as a challenge! >:D

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice…what do you Know?

can i say ‘nothing’ slkfjskdf uhhh what do i know. i know what it’s like to feel unwanted and invisible, i also know what it’s like to be around someone who loves you so much it’s almost tangibly warm and bright. i know no one’s actually alone and that we’ve all been given both the potential for and a promise that we can find joy in this life, even if things seem very bad overall. i know that everyone’s deserving of second and third and fourth chances, i know how it feels to hold a grudge instead. i know that losing people can be excruciatingly painful but i also know that there’s a life after this where we’ll get to see them again and looking forward to that feels exciting and joyful. i know - how to say this; i know that pain and sorrow, while sharper in the moment, is just plain not as strong as love and peace and that you can spend weeks depressed out of your mind or in terrible physical pain and then get a nice squeezy hug from someone you’re close to and hear that they love you, or snuggle up with a soft warm cat and listen to it purr, and somehow that’s all that matters

does that count? XD

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

if i’m not already accidentally in their head, i have to put headphones on and pace the floor for a while - ‘talk out’ conversations and scenarios until i’ve lost myself entirely. then i can try writing, and then it’s back to acting things out again, only at my computer XD there’s a lot of facial expressions and wild gesturing involved, i’ve spilt dr pepper on my keyboard more than once while involved in an argument between characters. and honestly - i don’t think i’ve often regretted getting into anyone’s head? i tend to get very worked up before writing if i’ve read about or thought about a character being in a situation/state of mind that i urgently feel i need to process or fix, and once i’ve led a character or characters through a fic - i guess i just don’t struggle to separate myself afterwards. idk if that’s what’s mean by ‘regret’ in this situation haha but yeah, i don’t think i really feel that way?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

ahhhhhhh...i’m not D: i’m really not, this is one of my biggest failings in - life, really; i fall apart when things aren’t orderly and regulated and yet i can’t seem to manage to keep anything organized /: if i could just get into some good habits i know i’d be able to do the more complicated AUs and long fics i want to, but alas, i never so much as used an outline for a school essay and i’ve got a painfully steep hill to climb in terms of learning how to be functional about these things

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

oh let’s see - i was a rabid bookworm as a child, when my parents took me to other people’s houses i made a beeline for the bookcase and just sat and read until they came back to pick me up XD so naturally i was also the kind of child who thought it would be just brilliant to be an author. i liked writing poetry; there were set rules and formulas for poetry and i could work with that. i struggled with prose though - my teachers advanced me several grades in english and told me i was brilliant except when it came to creative writing and that i...basically should aim to write nonfiction and nonfiction alone XD original stories were the only essays i didn’t get As and praise on and it crushed my spirit lol so i kind of stopped trying to write stories by the time i started middle school; i had one brief moment where i wrote a random Hobbit fanfic out of pure spite when i was around 14, and then outside of a previous collaborative effort with my brother (we wrote a lengthy Lego Star Wars fanfic which we called a ‘parody’; he dictated the events to me and i turned it into a cohesive piece of writing) i didn’t really write again until september of 2020 after my grandmother died and i found myself needing a way to process. i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to write anything original or even write good fanfiction, but. i hope with more practice i’ll be able to at least do one or the other! i’d love to write children’s books but i just don’t have the kind of creativity to come up with my own ideas right now, so i write kidfics a lot instead XD

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

oooh okay ‘haunted’ can mean several different things, i don’t tend to think of it with the negative connotation nearly as much as i do - uhhh - how to say it. you know that feeling where you suddenly remember a bit of music, except you can’t remember the actual notes or anything of what it sounded like? almost as if you’re looking at the impression a piece of jewelry made in velvet. so you can remember the way the music sort of felt both emotionally and physically, and the kind of atmosphere it created - but not what it sounded like, and it’s such a strong impression you have to sit down and put some effort into working backwards through it until you can finally remember the piece. that’s what ‘haunting’ means to me and i experience it a lot XD i have a very overactive imagination and reading is a sure way to get it going buuuut the language processing center of my brain is a straight-up garbage fire and i struggle to remember actual quotes from books; so *waves hand at my bookcase* you can pull out any book i really love and there’s probably a bit in there that haunts me!

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

NEW FIC!!!

Written for the Carry On Quarantine event organized by @xivz​ for the prompt of food delivery. My thanks to @fight-surrender​ and @basic-banshee​ for the beta reads and support!!

Baz is a teacher quarantined at home and Simon is doing temp work delivering food for The Girl and the Goat, a local pub. A craving for a burger leads to Baz ordering from the pub, followed by weeks of mutual pining, the slow burn of a developing relationship thwarted by the physical constraints of social distancing, and a refrigerator full of pub food. Movie nights, exasperated friends, lots of texts, way too much food, and multiple awkward encounters. 

Let My Love Open the Door

Baz

I close my laptop and drop my head down onto it. I’m knackered. The metal feels cool against my forehead. I roll my face from side to side, relishing the smooth chill of it against my cheeks. And then I remember.

Fuck, now I have to disinfect the damn thing.

I’m done. Done for the day but also so done with this.

How can I be expected to effectively teach students—Sixth Form students at that—from a computer terminal? I’m almost three weeks into this, but their looming A Levels and GSCE’s are still on schedule for May.

That’s less than two months away. Five weeks and three days, to be exact.

Thank fuck it’s Friday. I’ll at least have two days to prepare next week’s frightfully inadequate lesson plan.

I grab a disinfecting wipe from the canister and methodically wipe down my laptop. I’m not sick—not a cough, not a sniffle—but I’ve bought into this not touching my face directive and I shouldn’t be smearing my germs on random surfaces. For all I know I could be carrying this thing. One of the asymptomatic Typhoid Marys, spreading it far and wide.

Not that there’s anyone to spread it to, seeing as I’m on my own here, but I wipe the laptop down anyway, unnerved by the whole idea of it.

I’ve washed my hands more in the past month than I have in my entire life. I spent the first day at home wiping down every surface, laundering the bedding, mopping the floors. My house went from having a pleasant, woodsy scent to the overwhelming stench of bleach instead.

It gave me such a headache that I had to open the windows and damn near froze. Bloody coldest March we’ve had in years. April’s not proving to be much better.

My mobile buzzes. I should have left it in the bedroom but I’ve become painfully attached to it.

If I’m not planning out curriculum, video conferencing with my class, answering frantic emails from parents, students, the other teachers at my school, or compulsively cleaning and reorganizing my house, then I’m moodily scrolling through Twitter and Instagram and ratcheting up my anxiety.

I should delete my social media.

My mobile buzzes again.

I glance at my watch. It’s six o’clock.

Bound to be Wellbelove.

Wellbelove: are you done yet?

Wellbelove: Baz!!

Wellbelove: you can’t still be doing classwork it’s after 5

Wellbelove: BAAAAZZZZ

Me: Give it a rest, Wellbelove. Some of us are actually working from home.

Wellbelove: I am working, you poncy bastard I’m obviously far more efficient than you.

Me: Look, some of us can’t just post our morning exercise routine and somehow have that count as work.

Wellbelove: Why are we friends again? Can you remind me why I put up with this slander from you?

Me: Because of my sparkling wit and undeniable charm.

Wellbelove: more like your fashion sense and propensity to pick up the bill when we eat out. Neither of which are in evidence at the moment so I may have to rethink my devotion to you

Me: Still, I’m indispensable.

Wellbelove: then buy me dinner. what are we watching tonight?

This all started at the end of that first week, when Agatha couldn’t concentrate on the book she was trying to read and I’d reached the pulling-my-hair-out state of lesson planning. She suggested we watch a film together—FaceTiming while our Netflix accounts played in sync.

We’ve done that almost every night since. Dinner and a movie, separately, from a distance.

We spend almost as much time arguing over what to watch as we do watching, but that’s just how we are. I’ve known Agatha Wellbelove since we were toddlers at the same crèche when our parents were at uni. Same primary school, same secondary school.

We drifted apart during our uni years, with Agatha at Brighton for phys Ed and Oxford to read for English Language and Literature for me.  

It was some bizarre twist of fate that we were both hired to teach at the same secondary school in Chilham. She was the last person I expected to see on my orientation day.

We picked up where we left off, latching onto each other as we navigated our first real world experience after uni.

It’s been three years now and I think the past three weeks have been the longest stretch we’ve gone without seeing each other since we moved here.

She’s self-centered, brutally straight-forward, horribly short-tempered, dreadfully impatient, and devastatingly gorgeous.

A perfect match for me if I wasn’t so irrevocably gay.

And if she wasn’t . . . well, categorically uninterested in me in that way is probably the best way to phrase it.

But she’s my best friend and I know it hasn’t been all that long but fuck, I miss her.

Wellbelove: WHAT ARE WE WATCHING BAZ ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION

She’d be kicking me in the shin by now, if she were here. Maybe I don’t miss her quite that much.

Ugh, it’s my night to choose. I don’t know what I want to watch. Something soothing, not one of those action films or plucky sports dramas she likes so much. I actually like Bend it Like Beckham but not those sappy American ones she’s inflicted on me.

I need something familiar. Comforting.

Me: Pride and Prejudice.

Wellbelove: 2005. Kiera Knightley. I will accept no substitutes.

Me: The 1995 version is superior.

Wellbelove: Colin Firth doesn’t look like that anymore Baz. Let it go.

I start to type “Keira Knightley doesn’t either” but fucking hell she does still look the same.

Wellbelove: and you owe me dinner

Me: 2005 AND dinner? You are greedy and demanding, Wellbelove. I’ll agree to Knightley. Make your own dinner.

Wellbelove: I want a burger I’m ordering out since you’re being a berk and won’t send me food

Fuck. I’m craving a burger now too.

I don’t even want to think about cooking anything. I’m so sick of pasta, even though I’ve tried to make it a different way each time, with my dwindling pantry supplies. And much as I love the curry place down the road I can’t eat it every day.

I used to think I could. I used to say I’d be happy eating tikka masala every day for the rest of my life, but I was mistaken.

And no more chippies. I can’t do another chippy.

Me: Who’s delivering burgers? Please tell me you aren’t getting McDonald’s.

Wellbelove: why would I get McDonald’s when I can get a lamb burger from The Girl and The Goat?

Me: they’re not still open?

Wellbelove: of course they’re still open you stupid git.

I don’t know why I hadn’t thought to check. Why I assumed the pubs would close down, when they all have kitchens and food service, just like the chippies and fast food places.

Me: why didn’t you bother telling me, you hag?

Wellbelove: You are a grown man Hunter gatherer type you should be able to forage for your own food

I want one of those burgers. We don’t go there all that often but The Girl and The Goat has some of the best burgers in town. Fucking hell, I’m salivating at the thought of it.

Me: Text when you’ve got dinner and we’ll start the movie

Wellbelove: you’re ordering from The Goat aren’t you you hypocrite and not even paying for mine

I close the messenger app to look up The Girl and The Goat online. I scan the menu and then ring them up.

The warm, cheerful voice on the line assures me the order will be delivered to my door within a half hour. I give my mobile number so the driver can text when he arrives.

“Just be looking for the text, love,” the woman’s warm voice continues. “Simon will leave everything at your door, no need to open up until he’s gone. I know how wary people are these days so we’re trying to make it easy.”

A little over a half hour later my mobile buzzes with a message from an unknown number.

Unknown number: Food’s here!

Unknown number: I’ll ring when it’s on your doorstep

The doorbell chimes and I peek at the doorway video display only to startle at the huge grinning face looming on the screen. I push the audio button.

“Yes?”

“Hullo! I’m Simon. I’ve got your order from The Goat. Lamb burger and chips.” He holds up a gloved hand carrying a bag. “I’ll just leave it right here for you.” I get a brief glimpse of a broad back clad in a brown leather jacket as he bends down, before he’s back to grinning at the camera again. “Thanks for ordering from The Goat. We appreciate the business. If you text me back you’ll get a discount for next time!”

“Text you back what?”

He leans in closer and shrugs. “Whatever.”

He’s got brilliant blue eyes. A scattering of freckles dotted across his face.

“Um, right, ok then. Thanks.”

He waves and then he’s out of sight again.

I move to the front window and twitch aside the blinds to watch him get in a blue car with “The Girl and The Goat” displayed across the door in white lettering.

I wait until the car is long gone before opening the door, gloves on, carrying the parcel of food as if it’s radioactive until I reach the kitchen, where I can dispose of the bag and transfer the food to my own dishes.

It’s likely overkill, I know, but I find being wary and methodical helps calm me.

I settle down in front of the television with my meal and my mobile, ready to message Agatha, when I see the text from the unknown number again.

I’d not say no to a discount. I click on it to text back. What exactly does one text to an attractive delivery man?

I shake my head. He’s just the delivery man, it’s irrelevant if he’s attractive or not.

My finger is still hovering over my mobile. I’m having an existential crisis over what to text a delivery man so I can get a discount on a pub meal. These are the depths that I have sunk to with this self-quarantine.

It would help if he were ordinary looking. It really would.

Me to unknown number: Whatever

I hit send before I think too hard about how unoriginal and trite a response that was.

My mobile pings back a moment later.

Unknown number: 15% percent off the next order. Just say Simon said when you call it in! :)

Read the rest at ao3!!!!!!!!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23590015

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 18: Unstoppable

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17

Word count: 2011

This chapter is really dumb and cheesy just a heads up 😂 I wanted to dabble in old school fanfic while I wrote this one I think. Idk, it’s kinda cute

El had come to hate the weekends. There was no substance to her days off now that she knew the thrills offered by the wretch of a city. Jonathan wouldn't let her run his underworld errands with him; an attempt to keep her safe from Falcone, he said. While she understood and appreciated the sentiment, the result was dreadfully long and slow weekends. They couldn't go to Arkham to supervise the project, lest they draw suspicion, and if Jonathan wouldn't take her with him to meetings, it left her with very little to do in the apartment.

Luckily, the day after her nightmare Jonathan had no reason to leave the apartment. On the other hand, he had spent his day worrying over her incessantly. Well, as much as Jonathan could "worry incessantly" in his own subdued way.

He had let her sleep in for hours, made her breakfast when she woke, and she was currently curled up on the couch next to him with the softest blanket from his linen closet. He had even let her pick the movie they were watching.

"Hey, Jonathan?"

"Mm?"

"Am I dying or something?" He looked across the couch at her, confused. "You're being really nice today. Are you still 'being me,' or am I dying?"

"Oh. Neither." He fell back into silence rather than offering the explanation that El was looking for. She waited patiently for a minute or two, giving him the opportunity to explain himself of his own volition before sitting up with a huff and pausing the TV, moving to sit next to him.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" El watched as Jonathan set his jaw firmly, releasing a long slow breath, all the while staring inscrutably at the coffee table. By the time he finally looked at her, the anticipation had made her too anxious even to admire the hue of his eyes as she normally would.

"Last night, you..." he trailed off and let out another sigh before continuing, "it made me worry. I've been thinking all day, and I'm wondering if maybe you would be better off leaving Gotham now and going somewhere without me." Whatever she had been expecting, this wasn't it. Her brow furrowed, and she struggled to organize her thoughts enough to argue as he spoke again. "I know you, and I know that that wasn't normal, and it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't gotten you involved."

"So what?" she sputtered. "Jonathan, you got me involved, but if I didn't want to be still involved, I wouldn't be. Don't worry about me. You're not responsible for my decisions."

Her words did little to soothe him, and he leaned against the back of the couch with his head tilted all the way back to look at the ceiling. "No, I'm not, but this is clearly taking a toll on you. I just think it might be better if-"

"I understand what you're saying, but you're wrong," interrupted El. "If I were to leave now, I would just worry about you more. Without me, you're on your own here, and it's going to take a lot more than some stupid bad dream to make me abandon you. I know that you can handle all of this on your own, but as long as I'm here, I'm going to keep supporting you in whatever ways I can."

He was technically right, to an extent; it wasn't normal for a nightmare to break her like that. But the fact remained that it was only a dream, and the fact that it had immediately followed a dosing of fear toxin only served to solidify her point further. It would never have affected me like that if I hadn't insisted on a second toxin trial.

Jonathan mulled over what she said for what seemed like ages, to the point that Elianna wasn't even sure where his train of thought may have taken him. Regardless, she knew that he must have been trying to come up with some absurd reason why she should leave anyway. Deciding to let him think (and knowing that she would win this debate with this move), she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and lifted his arm to slot herself against his side.

He looked down at her as she settled his arm around her back, only to find her already looking up at him patiently with big green eyes. Shit. He could never argue with her when she looked at him like that, and she knew it. He did his best to steel his resolve, but then she blinked at him so sweetly that he had no choice.

"Fine," he sighed, finally looking away from her. "But no more toxin. From now on, you're just helping me supervise, understood?" He felt her nod fervently and wrap her arms tight around him. How did she always manage to get under his skin so well?

"I can't believe you thought you could get rid of me that easily," she scoffed. "I'm here to stay, love. I left you behind once, and I'm not going to do it again." Jonathan was amused by the childish notion behind her words but appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

He was silently glad that she had pushed against him on this particular issue. While he still believed that she would be safer away from the city, he really didn't want her to leave. She was too...important. As proven by how easily she could get him to concede just by looking at me, for fuck's sake.

"You know I would never try to get rid of you." Jonathan still faced difficulty coming to terms with her effect on him, but this time he didn't have the energy to fight it. Deep down, he knew that he had let her win, selfishly wanting her to stay. Unwilling to resist, he let his cheek rest against the top of her head. "Sometimes I might think about it, but I'm not stupid." He felt her laugh.

"Understandable." She tilted her head back to look at him, and he lifted his head from hers to mirror her gaze. A soft smile spread over her face. "One of these days, I'm going to get you to admit outright that you love me." She said smugly, undeterred by his impassive expression.

He could tell by the look on her face that she had begun speaking absentmindedly, but Jonathan found himself more focused on the conversation in his head; naturally, Scarecrow had his own opinion on what El had said.

She's got a point. We should just get it over with now.

That isn't what she means.

Sure it is! See the way she looks at us? Come ooonnn, what's the harm? If it goes south, I'll just take care of it.

You absolutely will not.

I still don't see why we shouldn't get rid of her anyway. Loose ends, Jonny. If she's dead, she can't snitch.

She isn't going to. She would have done it already, and she's never told anyone about everything else we've done; why would she start now?

Yeah, and why do you think that is? Principle? Honesty? She likes us, Jonny. If you don't take care of it now, then I will.

With that, the straw man retreated to the back of Jonathan's mind in smug silence. The ambiguity of Scarecrow's ultimatum made him nervous, as he was unsure of what Scarecrow's version of "taking care of it" might be. But Jonathan knew ultimately that his alter was actually right this time. All of the jokes, the affection, the trust, and when she looked at him the way she had done just a minute before...

It was almost terrifying to think that the woman he had held so dear for so long might harbor feelings for him, and the true rush of the unknown exhilarated him. As strange as it would be, Jonathan knew what he wanted to do and resolved on the spot to act upon it before he could talk himself back out of it as he was wont to do.

"Not verbally, necessarily," she spoke up again, "but one of these days, you're going to do something, and I'll kno-"

The rest of El's sentence was cut short by something that could not have caught her more off guard, and while some part of her seemed to process it immediately (judging by how hard her heart was beating), it took a moment for her brain to catch up.

Jonathan had interrupted her by cupping the side of her face with his free hand and, in one fluid motion, had tilted her head back more and kissed her full on the mouth ever so softly. Her mind hadn't yet finished racing with unanswered questions when her internal monologue switched abruptly to, "oh, fuck it."

At that moment, she didn't need to understand anything. By way of response, she lifted her own hand to close lightly around his wrist, keeping his hand against her face and returned the tentative kiss with one of her own.

Both of their stomachs exploded into butterflies, but for vastly different reasons. Jonathan felt a rush of relief from the reciprocation and a flutter of nervousness caused by sudden instability for the future that it implied. In the same moment, Elianna found an emotional release and a thrill caused by the same unclear future, eager to build something new, powerful even.

Whatever her motivation, when El kissed him again, Jonathan was more than eager to return the action, and all of his apprehensiveness began to melt away. It was a rare moment of clarity for him, as he found himself truly in the moment. She had kissed him. Things that had been so important to him only minutes before were suddenly irrelevant, and when El pulled away and buried her face into his neck, holding him so tight, he was all too glad to squeeze her closer.

He thought that he had never been more determined to do anything as he was to keep her safe previously, but having finally given in to the impulse that he had been repressing since their teen years, Jonathan realized his previous resolve had been trivial. This, with all of its implicit devotion attached, changed everything so drastically. Nobody would ever hurt her again; not Zsasz, not Scarecrow, not anybody.

It was a good feeling, if a bit overwhelming. Following his new theme of letting himself enjoy the things he wanted, Jonathan allowed himself to feel at ease, content. He even cracked a smile when a small voice chimed, "I told you so," from somewhere near his collarbone.

"Yes, you did." He stroked back her hair and left a lingering kiss on top of her head, and felt her delighted smile split her face as she hugged him tighter (if that was even possible).

"Now you're really not getting rid of me. You know that, right?"

"I know. That's what I wanted." El hummed happily in response, breathing in the smell of his clothes. Being wrapped up against him like this felt...right. Like this was what their entire friendship had always been leading to, and now that it had been fulfilled, nothing could stop her.

Ever at the whim to her desires, and knowing that Jonathan couldn't be relied on to do the same, El straightened back up to stand on her knees and captured him in another kiss, deeper than before. With no protest, Jonathan locked his arms securely around her waist to keep her close and responded in kind.

Everything else forgotten, the new couple passed the day away in a world of their own making, testing the limits, and exploring new possibilities. Totally focused on each other, they both forgot everything about the killing of the city, the crimes they were committing together, the hells they had been put through, all of it wiped away; with every kiss, every gentle touch, every movement erased every atrocity, past and future. The new, stronger nature of their companionship made them unstoppable.

[andsoshespins]

Saturday Stuff

I awoke early after a not-so-good-night’s sleep and did an hour’s worth of exercise.

About 3 hours of online tutoring broke up my day nicely and gave me purpose.

Keeping my windows and blind open on this beautiful day was cleansing for the spirit.

The blue patterned pots arrived today, and it gave me great joy to repot my succulents in them.  They are perfect for my kitchen, and moments like these remind me that homeownership involves fun stuff like this and not just arguing with the mortgage and insurance companies on three-way calls to sort out an allegedly missed payment.

I spent about 30 minutes trying to determine how I feel about Chris Evans’ status as a superhero hunk after watching Captain America last night.  Because I weirdly remember seeing him in that stupid Cellular movie I watched in high school and had a lengthy deliberation with my friend about it all.

Related: I do like the whole premise of the Captain America storyline.

Still related: I know, I’m about 12 years late to the whole MCU thing...

I made buttermilk biscuits, spinach and cheese pockets of phyllo dough, chocolate cupcakes, blueberry pancakes, onion rings, plus my breakfast of eggs and veggies. 

Lizzie McGuire playing in the background as I cooked and baked was a terrific decision.

Related: Gordo’s bar mitzvah episode is so great for the “becoming a man” documentary he made after compiling interviews from various males.  

Still related: I think I am already halfway through the series, and I need to slow down.

My friend had sent me a video of Hilary Duff giving a tour of her home for Architectural Digest.  And I realize I still want to be her.  Or be friends with her.  Is that so wrong?

Since I clearly just need as much Hilary Duff in my life as possible, I played Cadet Kelly as I cleaned up the messes I made in the kitchen.  I never quite enjoyed that movie even though I remember the INSANE Disney Channel hype that surrounded it and even had flashbacks as I watched today.  (It might actually be worse than I remember hahaha. Also, Gary Cole is in it.  What.)

Some Phil of the Future cleansed my palate as I stacked my chairs, sprayed the counters, washed the dish drainers, and prepped my house for tomorrow morning’s deep clean.

Related: I do not ever think I will grow out of my love for and attraction to Ricky Ullman.  

Still related: One of my best friends and I bonded over this love of Ricky Ullman while in high school; she and I were meant to be. 

Folding two loads of laundry and getting some clothes ready for the week helped keep my mind orderly. 

I realize 80% of this post is related to Disney+ and the rest of it is dreadfully domestic.  Goddamnit.  I was NOT going to get sucked in...I was NOT going to become boring...

A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay is our next book club read, and I think I will start it tonight.  

Fun fact to prove that I am not deteriorating in excitement: Tremblay was on a panel I attended while at Book Con in the last two years, and it was really cool.

Wait, IDK if that had the desired effect.  Yawn. Ah well.

Spending most of today in silence was glorious, but I am looking forward to spending time outside with my family tomorrow.

[hannahmcne]

Her Royal Highness - Chapter 2

Mal spent the rest of the day hiding far from home. The last few hours, in particular, were under the bridge she'd planned to vandalize that morning. In between the steel supports for the bridge was a small hole about twice the diameter of a car tire. It grew narrower the further back it receded and was about two and a half feet deep. The end of the hole was rounded so if she tucked her legs up she could fit snugly into the dirt. When passersby walked above her, their footsteps would shake the dust from above her. She could hear snippets of conversation float down. Mal had wondered vaguely at first if she'd hear Jay, Carlos, or Evie walk above her, but so far, she hadn't heard anything.

In the dark, Mal chewed on her hair, a nasty habit of hers she'd started a few years ago, and twiddled her fingers around each other as she fumed. She was so mad she couldn't even think. All her life she'd wanted two things: freedom, and her mom's support. Mal wasn't even allowed to use her mother's full name since she wasn't evil enough. And truth be told, Mal didn't know if she'd ever be evil enough. Ever since her failed plot to force Evie to sleep for 1000 years back when she was twelve and Evie was sixteen, she'd known there was something different in her that set her apart from everyone else on the Isle. Something she didn't particularly enjoy, that made her more attached to her gang members as more than just pawns and that kept her up at night listing all the things she could change if only she would be given the chance. She just wasn't sure what to call it.

At twilight, the dirty river started to smell different as the temperature outside began to drop a little. Pollution in the air underneath the barrier caused extreme temperature changes on ground level. She turned her head to watch the light levels change over time. There was dirt down the back of her jacket and in her hair and in her shoes. She wondered if her mother was right and if there might already be palace guards surrounding their house, ready to execute her to free the prince from any blood obligations. On that note, she had no idea how the palace would react. Did they still do the death row? That seemed awfully dark for a country full of heroes. Then again, they did imprison everyone who didn't fit into society onto an island for them to battle it out amongst themselves. They didn't seem overly concerned for any children on the Isle, even though she knew many of them were recorded with, recognized and noticed by the crown.

The shadows under the bridge grew sharper and Mal began to uncurl herself. She crawled through the small hole and grabbed the underside of the bridge to haul herself out the rest of the way and then swing her body up. She grabbed the rusty railing and pulled a numb leg up. She couldn't feel her entire lower back. Once she wasn't dangling up above the smelly water, she stretched her arms up above her head and arched her back.

Mal took her time going home. After all, the sooner she went home, the sooner she'd have to face the idea that her life was about to either change forever or end entirely. And that wasn't an easy pill to swallow. She took the back ways home and soon found herself raising a hand to twist the doorknob when a thought occurred to her.

Her mother was delusional, after all. There may be a likelihood that she had simply made up cursing the prince and whatever had actually happened in Ben's interview with the Fairy Godmother was a fluke completely unrelated to a curse. Maybe, despite what the palace had said, Prince Benjamin was sick? After all, how could Maleficent have cursed the crown when she was sent to the Isle months before Belle and Adam had ascended the throne?

Mal twisted the doorknob and entered. Everyone in the room looked up at her. She stopped momentarily at the attention, then did her best to draw a half-lidded, bored sort of blank stare. Evie, Jay, and Carlos all rose to their feet at once, and that's when Mal noticed all her things had been packed into a ragged purple suitcase and her one-strapped backpack. The sight chilled her more than she could admit. She wondered who'd done that.

"M?" Evie asked. Mal's eyes shot back to her and took in the concern in her blue-haired friend, who wore a blue t-shirt and a blue plaid skirt.

"Sup," Mal said. She looked away from Jay and Carlos and instead turned to examine her dirt-clogged nails.

"Stomp your feet off." The Evil Queen said softly. None of the villains were meeting her eyes. Mal felt a heavy weight fall on her shoulders. They thought Maleficent was serious. The back of her throat grew hot as Mal began to feel angry. This wasn't fair. Maleficent had no proof of what she'd done… yet.

Mal stomped her feet off and brown dirt fluttered out of her hair and jacket. She scowled and shook her head. "I'm going to go change." She snapped and stormed past Evie.

"Your clothes are down here," Jay called after her. Mal stopped mid-march, turned on her heel, unzipped her suitcase and pulled an outfit out before she began to march straight upstairs. No one called after her.

Upstairs, she shook all the dust out of her clothes and hair. She rinsed her hands off in cold water and then got re-dressed in a new, not dirty outfit.

She stalked down the stairs quietly and paused to listen outside the room everyone else was still in. There were whispers, but they were too low to make out. No one was stupid enough to let their voices carry in the room. She walked around the corner and observed the scene before her. Everyone was whispering amongst their parents in separate little groups of two. She walked over to the dining table and took a seat on it, whipping a chair around with her foot to use as a footrest.

"Where's my mom?" She asked Jafar, who was closest.

He wouldn't meet her eyes either.

"Napping," Cruella answered for him. Evie took a seat at the table.

"Mal," She started. "What's going on?"

Mal rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna be honest, I think it was a fluke. I mean, how could mom have cursed the crown when all the heroes were keeping an eye on her? And why didn't they find the curse twenty years ago when he was born?" She shrugged. "She may have just imagined cursing it. Mom's a little wonky anyway."

Carlos and Evie were nodding along to her words, but everyone else remained still. The muscles in Jay's arms were taut. Mal knew he was worried, but it wasn't as if he could tell her that with the villains so close by. Jay was the oldest partner of the four. He'd been with her since the beginning.

The thing was, this whole mess could really swing both ways. Maleficent could have dreamed it all up. Or, this could have been her backup plan all along. There was no way to tell until the palace themselves confirmed or denied it. But Mal didn't want to believe it.

She was her mom's daughter, a villainess. They wouldn't toss her out to the heroes, right?

"Besides," She started up again, her voice growing bolder and bolder. "Mom wouldn't sell me out like that. She needs me here to keep everyone in check. And she cares about me, in her own crazy way. Mom wouldn't just throw me out."

A loud and harsh knock echoed around the room. Everyone's eyes shot to the door. It was only a knock, but with such strength that it sounded like someone was trying to break in. Mal's throat went dry and doubts began to form in the back of her mind, but she quickly swept them away.

Maleficent appeared at the top of the creaky spiral staircase, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Answer the door!" She hollered. Carlos jumped towards the entryway and undid the bolt before he turned the handle. The door knocked against the wall with a rattle and a clang. Outside was a tall man with a neat orange mustache who was dressed in royal blues and another man, equally tall, with dark sunglasses.

"Evening son." He directed this at Carlos. "May I please step inside?" Carlos wilted away from the tall man and his hard, angry eyes. Evil Queen, Jafar, and Cruella all stood to stare at the man. Mal felt her heart slow down and began to panic as the man ducked under the frame of the door and came to stand in front of the table. A gun rested on his hip and the floorboards shook when he stepped. His accomplice followed him into the room with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. Outside, more soldiers were standing. Mal stared at them with wide eyes as the edge of the table broke off under her vice-like grip. Maleficent cackled in excitement as she hurried across the floor. Thump, thump, thump, across the floorboards. Hopefully, the neighbors wouldn't mind.

"Glorious! I was expecting you here tomorrow, but tonight will do." She pushed through her villainous counterparts and spread her arms wide as if welcoming the strangers to their very small apartment. The man only glared.

"Maleficent," He spat. "I am here to collect your daughter by order of the crown." The man's eyes darted to eye up both Evie and Mal, as if to see which one she was. It was dreadfully obvious, as Evie had an apple charm in her hair and the back of her shirt was inscribed with 'The Fairest of Them All'. The man stared at Mal with contempt.

"Yes, of course, of course!" Maleficent sang as she walked around Mal and put her hands on her shoulders. She kicked Mal's footstool out from under her as she walked past and Mal almost fell forward in shock. "Here she is, right here, and her things are over there." Maleficent took a hand from Mal's shoulder momentarily to point towards Mal's still open suitcase before she went back to holding onto Mal's shoulders. Mal suspected her mom thought she would run. Instead, she felt like she was going to throw up.

The man in sunglasses frowned and examined her. Mal's lower lip quivered. He took the shades off. He had dark brown hair and an oblong face shape. Clean-shaven, but with neat sideburns. He seemed to be a second-in-command of some sort.

"Lovely." The red-head spat. He snapped his fingers and a man emerged from the hall in the same uniform, but with less insignia. He went and picked up Mal's backpack and suitcase, pausing only to zip her suitcase up. They obviously were not very heavy to him. Maleficent pushed Mal off of the table and spun her around. She kissed both of Mal's cheeks with sickening joy.

"Bye, sweetie!" She cheered and shoved Mal forward. Mal stumbled through Jafar and Evie and stared at the imposing man in front of her. He glared down his nose at her. Evie hugged Mal from behind, and Mal became aware that Evie's face was very wet as the taller girl buried her face in Mal's shoulder and sniffled once before leaning back. Jay hugged her too, but Mal was too numb to hug him back. She could scarcely remember to wrap her arms around Carlos before the white-haired kid stepped back.

The guards stood stone-still and looked around. "Any other goodbyes?" The second-in-command asked. No one moved. After a few seconds, the two men moved forward and planted their hands on Mal's arms. One on each elbow, one on each shoulder. They began to march her to the door.

Mal whipped her head around and called: "Mom." The guards didn't stop, and Maleficent only waved with a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips. "Bring home the gold!" She crooned, holding up two fingers to her eyes and making a motion like she was watching Mal. Soon, they'd walked out the door and out of sight of her mom. The man holding her things was last out the door. Soldiers fell into formation on every side. In front of her, behind her, everywhere. Many had narrowed eyes as they examined her ratty hair and the smudges on her face. For the first time in her life, Mal felt more like facing the ground than looking at the world around her. Her chin felt heavy as she internally begged herself to keep a stiff upper lip.

They marched her down to the area in front of her house, where two pristine white limos were waiting atop the broken street. People had gathered in the square and were shocked to see Maleficent's daughter, pale-white with fright, being led to the vehicle. Mal's head whipped around to stare up at her home, and she watched as the now seven residents looked back at her with stony expressions. Evie was trying to stay her tears without touching her face and ruining her makeup. Carlos was trying to not cry. Dark shadows covered Jay's face so much should couldn't read his expression. Her mother looked gleeful. Mal set her jaw so her teeth wouldn't clatter together.

One soldier with a large gun stepped inside the first one as everyone headed towards the second. It was clear they had all expected a little more of a fight. The two guards holding her shoved her into the limo and the door locked from the outside. A deep, closed-in feeling settled around her chest. At the same time, it felt like a knife had cut the skin above her ribs. Not enough to draw blood, but only to sting. That's when she realized that this must be what betrayal feels like.

The soldier sat on the opposite side of the limo with his gun held at the ready. His finger was braced over the safety switch. Mal swallowed, sank back into the seat, and did her best to ignore him as she heard the sounds of car doors closing. The car began to move. Mal imagined she could hear her mother's cackle and clenched her fists. If wishes came true in Auradon, Mal swore on her name that her one wish would be revenge on her mother for this horrid plot.

________________________________________________________________

They hauled her out of the car to stay in some ruddy hotel overnight. Apparently, Auradon city was much further away than it looked from the Isle. Mal didn't see the two commanders, but the soldier company escorted her in and out. Mal fiddled around in the back of the car and nibbled on some candies they had back there because she was sure she was going to starve to death before they let her actually meet the royal family. Finally, she figured out how to roll down the little screen that separated her and the guards in front who were driving. There were only two. The second car was in front of them.

"Hey." Mal drawled in an exhausted tone, leaning into the driver's compartment a tad. "How long does this trip last?"

For a moment, they both ignored her, and then the man in the passenger seat sighed and turned around to face her a little. It was the dark-haired man with the sunglasses. "It's only a two-hour trip from the Isle to Auradon. But the gates to the palace close at nine and open at seven. Safety reasons. We were sent out at six-thirty to get you. They were closed before we got off the Isle. That's why we stopped for the night. We'll be at Beast Castle's Gates in about 15 minutes."

"15 minutes?" Mal asked, alarmed.

The man nodded. He observed her panic with a curious look, so she quickly masked her expression. "That means less than thirty minutes before we meet the royal family at the palace doors." He told her as she curled her nails into her palms. They still had dirt underneath them from the day before.

Mal sat down so they couldn't see her face and took a few seconds to compose herself. Before she rolled the window back up, she leaned back up and said: "Hey, thanks."

"No problem." The man said, even though he didn't turn around to see her again.

She rolled up the window and moved around in the small space. She noticed another window leading to the outside and wandered over to inspect it. It was unlocked. Mal rolled it down and peered outside. Fresh air spilled into the car, and she gasped. She hadn't ever smelt air like this before. There were beautiful trees and plants outside and pretty houses with porch swings and decorated mailboxes. She examined her reflection in the car rear-view mirror. Her hair was messy, and there was dirt smudged on her cheek. Mal tried to rub it away, but it only smeared.

The window connecting her to the drivers rolled down and a hand appeared holding a handkerchief. She blinked at it for a few seconds and then moved over to grab it. She wiped at the area where the dirt was and then handed it back up. "Thanks again." She told the man in the passenger seat as he put on a pair of wire-rim shades.

"No problem." He repeated and tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. She returned to her spot by the window and let the wind tangle her hair even more.

So, they were going to let her meet the royal family after all. Surprising. She wondered what their plans were. It was still doubtful the king and queen would allow their only son to be openly married to a villainesses' daughter, even if it was required for him to ascend the throne. Doubtful even more so that they'd give her any sort of power to bring her mother over. And even if they did give her any sort of power, Mal wasn't sure she would ever bring her mother over. Why would she? It sounded like the perfect response to her mother burying her in this mess; leave her to rot and descend into madness even more. Mal examined her nails. A hole had formed in her heart, and she wanted, needed even, to move on. In her head, she labeled Maleficent as a thing of the past and went back to wondering about the future.

She wondered if they would marry her to him in absolute secrecy and then kill her directly after the ceremony. Entirely possible, though she still didn't know if Auradon had the backbone to kill people. She frowned and moved once more to the driving window. She rolled it down and drummed her fingers for a few seconds before she cleared her throat.

"Hey?" She asked the guy in the passenger seat. He moved his head, acknowledging he'd heard her. "Um," Mal began. "Does Auradon do death row?"

The confusion the two guards shared was palpable. The passenger seat guy turned around and pushed his sunglasses down his nose as he studied her while the driver adjusted the rear-view mirror to see her. It was the same tall, mustached guy from last night.

"Why do you ask?" The helpful one asked.

"I'm… just wondering." Mal trailed off. "Like, are they gonna execute me?"

The guy took off his shades and blinked at her. "You're sixteen." He said. Mal shifted uncomfortably. "They're not going to execute a sixteen-year-old, especially after having to remove her from an extremely dangerous island in a mission that took over ten hours in all. If they wanted you dead, they would have hired a sniper. Except Auradon doesn't do death row. Or assassins. They just send them to the Isle of the Lost."

Mal sighed. "They can't exactly do that to me." She twiddled her thumbs.

"Yeah." The guy said. He slid his shades back on. "To be honest I don't know what their plans are. If it helps quell your nerves at all, I'm pretty sure there's a line in your mom's spell that outlines your safety, briefly though."

"Really?" Mal asked. So, Mom had at least thought of Auradon possibly executing her. That was comforting. Sort of. Still, Mal wasn't going to do anything for her mother.

"There's a line in Auradon's wedding treaty about that too." The driver said in an extremely gruff tone.

Mal sighed and turned to face away from them. She slid down the wall of the diving screen. "I don't want to think about that." She moaned as she unwrapped a small chocolate from the limo stash.

Passenger seat guy slid his shades off again and began to fiddle with the arms of them. "How much of this do you know about exactly?" He asked Mal. "You seem as confused as everyone else."

Mal shrugged. "I sorta found out yesterday." She admitted.

"Yesterday?" The driver asked in disbelief, looking over his shoulder for a second incredulously. "Your mom's had this thing going for almost twenty-five years and she told you yesterday?"

"How much do you know?" Mal snapped back. "I didn't exactly get the full run-down before she threw me to you lot."

There was no answer. Mal sighed and put her head down in her hands.

"Wow." The driver said after several long moments of silence. "That seems a little too harsh."

"Yeah," the other guard agreed. He slid his sunglasses on and took a deep breath. "Don't worry about it anymore, kid." He told Mal. "Hopefully we can figure something out and you can go back home soon."

"If the palace doesn't kill me, Mom will for coming home empty-handed." Mal blurted out. Neither of the guards said anything. After a while, she moved to the outside window again for the last time. The driver rolled up the dividing window, which was fine with Mal since she didn't want to talk to them anyway.

The car interior was nice with grey seats that were squishy and firm. It smelled like soap and there were little cupholders beside each car. Underneath the window was the collection of candies in small glass dishes that Mal had been snitching from. If she'd been on the Isle still, she would have stolen them and pawned them off for something of real use. Mal filled one of her cupholders with hard, fruit-tasting candies and chocolates, which she snacked on as she watched the outside world pass by. One of the guards kept a careful eye on her from the side-view mirror. She ignored him.

All too soon, the scenery changed and there were no more little houses with pretty swings and mailboxes. Instead, the world became acres of well-maintained trees and flowerbeds. Mal knew instinctively they were coming up on the palace. The outside world lost its luster after that. She rolled up her window and ate her candy in silent misery, stuffing her pockets full of bits and pieces to horde.

The windows, while heavily tinted, were still see-though. When she felt the car begin to slow down, she glanced through the foggy glass and saw a number of figures outside. It looked like the royal family had brought an army. Or the other car had already unloaded and the company of soldiers was waiting for them. She groaned softly and wiped a finger on the outsides of her mouth to make sure it was clean.

The car stopped. She heard the two soldiers up front get out of the car and moved to stand in front of the still-locked door. The door opened and she was momentarily blinded by the sun shining in her face, but then the two guards reached in and pulled her to a standing position and the sunglasses one effectively shielded her from the sun.

In front of her was the crown prince, dressed in a long-sleeve, button-up blue shirt, and black slacks. Four guards stood at the ready in case she wanted to try anything. He looked very surprised to see her. His mouth was open a little and his eyes were flickering up and down her frame. He looked handsome enough. Sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, a nice tan. He gave her an awkward smile that held something in it she'd never seen on the Isle before. Behind Prince Benjamin was Queen Belle, dressed in a yellow air dress, and King Adam, in a suit. Around them were many, many loitering guards with big guns and lethal glares.

Mal steeled her back and crossed her arms as the prince came to his senses and shook himself back to reality.

"Um, hi," He began flatly. Many of the guards exchanged glances and chuckled. Mal raised her eyebrows and averted her gaze. The prince's cheeks took on a red tone. "It's nice to meet you..." He walked a few paces past his bodyguards and stuck out his hand as he tried to meet her icy gaze without freezing.

"Hm, Mal. Best of circumstances, of course," She gave a sarcastic little half-smirk as the nicer guard released her right arm, so she could shake his hand. She noticed when he held on for half a second longer and snatched her hand away to rip him from his daze. The hand on her arm was promptly replaced. She sighed inwardly.

Prince Benjamin cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess it could be better. I'm Ben." He shrugged.

"No Benjamin?" She asked. He shook his head. Mal tilted her head and continued her half-smirk. "I hope you don't have a speech planned, because I need to use the bathroom."

The Prince opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, his father piped up. "Did you have a nice trip?" He asked.

"Oh, splendid." The smirk vanished from Mal's face. She began to frown. "Ripped away from my home and my life gone down the drain in less than a day." The two guards shifted uncomfortably, almost simultaneously.

King Adam didn't appear sympathetic in the least bit. He was fixing her with the exact cold, heartless look she'd imagined him wearing as he locked the villains on the Isle of the Lost. She'd seen it once on TV as a kid and never again since. "Well, hopefully, you and your mother will think about that next time."

Belle swatted his arm and frowned without removing her eyes from Mal. The older queen looked confused, to say the least. She seemed to be trying to take everything about Mal in. "Wasn't she supposed to be a bit older?" She whispered to no one in particular.

The commanding officer who held Mal's left arm in a vice grip cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, she appears to know as much as we do, if not less."

This appeared to be news to the entire guard and royal family, who all wore varying degrees of shock on their faces. The officer continued: "She told us her mother informed her around the same time we arrived to take her away."

Belle finally spoke up, voice wavering slightly. "She had no knowledge of the curse?" She asked.

"It would appear that way." The guard replied.

King Adam still appeared skeptical. "What do you say to all this?" He boomed at Mal.

Mal was not to be intimidated by the former beast. "Is it going to be any different for you to hear it from me instead of him?" She asked.

The king looked extremely annoyed. "Goodness gracious-" He began, but Belle shushed him.

The second guard laughed. "She's quite spunky. Interesting personality." He patted Mal's arm, lessening his grip a great deal.

"I can tell." King Adam responded with a glare folding his fingers together and popping all the joints in them at the same time.

"Dear." Belle snapped at him. It appeared she was still conflicted, trying to pick the right side when she couldn't be sure if Mal was lying or not.

"One more thing before we leave." The nice guard continued. He moved his arm to slide his shades down his nose. As he peered over the rims, he said: "She was very concerned you were only bringing her to Auradon to execute her."

Mal wished he hadn't have said that. She immediately turned her gaze skyward and pretended to be bored. Bored is the hardest expression to see through. If all they wanted to see was a villain, that was all they would see. That was all she'd let them see.

"Execute her?" Belle repeated, sounding horrified.

"Oh, we don't do that." The prince said directly to her. She moved her gaze to his collarbone and watched his mouth move out of the corner of her eye. "That's something the villains do." He continued. Mal made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a scoff. The prince and guards looked at her curiously.

Belle pulled her arm out from her husband's elbow and drifted closer to Mal. "You don't have to worry about that, dear. We're just trying to reach a, um, compromise." She motioned for the guards to remove their hands from her. They did, and Mal rubbed her shoulders.

"We're going to break the curse and then you can go home." King Adam growled.

"My mother will kill me if I go home," Mal responded automatically. She suddenly felt very vulnerable, spitting that out in front of the royal family.

"Not… really? Would she?" Ben asked in disbelief.

Mal rolled her eyes. "Are those words going to mean anything other than what I said if I repeat them?" She asked. Ben looked too shocked to answer.

Belle tried to salvage the situation. "We'll figure something out." She said, even though she didn't sound very sure. She looped her arm through Adam's. "Gentlemen, you're dismissed. Honey, we need to show Mal to her room."

"Yes, of course," Adam grumbled. He made a motion for Mal to follow them as they began to walk back to the castle. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was following and then refused to look at her. Most of the crowd dispersed, and only seven guards remained to follow her as she trailed behind the King and Queen. Prince Ben hurried to walk beside her.

"Is there anything we can do for you, Mal?" He asked as he gained a comfortable stride to match her pace.

"Again, a bathroom would be lovely. Also, not being magically bound to you and still being without a death guarantee would be nice. No offense." She smirked at the tall blonde beside her.

"None taken." He replied with a small smile. "To be honest, I feel the same way. Unfortunately, it's not that simple." He jumped to open the door to the castle for her and his parents.

Mal glared at him and furrowed her brow as she slipped through. One of the guards rushed forward to hold the door so Ben could rejoin the group. "What do you mean?" She asked in a hard tone.

Belle cleared her throat awkwardly as she led the group up the stairs in the main entryway. Mal's eyes flitted left and right to briefly take in the elegant entryway, but she was too engrossed by the conversation to take it in much. "We've already been in contact with the Fairy Godmother," Belle said softly. "She has arranged a team of people trying to rip the curse apart, but they've already admitted they don't even know where to start. The curse has many layers and is very complicated. As of right now, it's a hopeless cause." At the top of the stairs where a large doorway was, a hallway ran parallel to the room. They turned right and soon the front doors were out of sight.

A deep feeling clouded Mal's head. She felt like she was going to be sick. "So, we're stuck?" She asked and started to bite her cheek. She felt very lightheaded.

"Unfortunately, yes," Belle responded. She didn't sound nearly as angry as King Adam about that fact. Mal looked up and met the queen's brown eyes as the older woman studied her. She swallowed.

"What's the plan, then?" She questioned her shoes.

"We, um, were hoping…" Queen Belle responded uncertainly. However, she was abruptly cut off by Ben.

"Here we are!" The prince announced in a high voice. He gestured to a large door, but Mal was not to be distracted.

"You were hoping… what?" She narrowed her eyes and examined each of them, digging in her heels and straightening her stance.

The entire royal family was looking distinctly uncomfortable, and Mal had the feeling it was entirely her fault. Belle cleared her throat again. "We admit, we weren't expecting someone your age who had been equally hurt by Maleficent's curse. Much less someone who wasn't bent on becoming queen. On the contrary, we thought we'd have to hold you off of him, hence the guards." Belle gestured to the few guards who'd followed them up and were busy pretending to not be listening in to their conversation. "We were hoping to marry you quietly and grant you impartial rights to the kingdom so you couldn't bring your mother over while we scrambled to undo the curse."

Mal felt genuinely betrayed. How unfair. "You're actually going to make us get married? Doesn't Auradon have things to protect against this?"

King Adam jumped to defend his country's integrity. "The curse is over 20 years old and is technically hereditary. That means-"

"It's 200 times harder to break." Mal sighed. She looked away from everyone and examined the end of the corridor. The rules of curses and enchantments had been recited to her one too many times.

"Yes." Adam agreed. "How much do you know about magic?"

Mal snorted. "I live on an Island with a Magical barrier around it. My mother is insane and unstable and recites magic laws in her sleep. The most she and I can do is light our eyes up. Believe me, we've tried." She crossed her arms and dug her toes into the carpet as she leaned against the wall.

Ben looked extremely awkward as he rubbed his shoe against the floor. "Technically, you don't have to marry me. Except then I wouldn't be able to be king and we'd have to make a public explanation of some sort." He coughed and retreated a little.

"This is barbaric!" Mal protested with a frown. She balled her fists up and bit her lower lip. "Doesn't Auradon have laws to protect against this?"

"They're not specific enough," Ben answered immediately. "But in the future, we should definitely enforce regular spell checks to ensure that things like this don't slip by unnoticed. I'm not sure why we didn't start out doing that-" Ben suddenly clamped his mouth shut and looked very embarrassed. "But Mom and Dad did do a great job helping Auradon startup. It sure wasn't easy to do everything they did."

"This is so unfair..." Mal sighed as she turned away from the family.

"Tell that to your mother," Adam muttered under his breath.

Mal glared at him. "Sure." She snapped. "I'll let her know as soon as this whole thing is over and I'm sent back to your orchestrated prison so you never have to think about how I'm costing you your throne again. Maybe I'll be able to get the words out before she slits my neck or bashes my brains across the sidewalk for not bringing her over because believe me when I say I'm leaving her to rot!"

Belle opened her mouth again as Adam swelled with rage. "We'll have to go back to the drawing board, as they say." She rested a hand on Adam's shoulder. "We truly weren't expecting someone who wasn't planning on riding this curse to its full effects." There was an apology in her tone, and this was what Mal latched onto.

Adam jumped in, however, and Mal felt a headache form. Did the king and queen have to be such polar opposites? "Do think about it though. We know it's not the best situation, but the kingdom is already rampant with rumors, and-"

"Don't trouble her with any of that." Queen Belle commanded quietly. "This isn't something that should concern the kingdom. This is her whole life we're talking about. She needs to make her own decision." With these words, Mal finally garnered the courage to look up and examine Belle.

Mal had never met a woman like the queen, who was willing to put aside differences and first meetings to help console a teenager whose life was being rearranged. Mal managed a smile at the queen, who seemed surprised, but smiled back anyway.

"We'll try and come up with new ideas of course." King Adam babbled on as Belle started to lead him away.

"Of course we will," Belle said. "And now Mal can be a part of the proceedings. But let's go now. Mal needs to use the restroom, and probably shower too."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Mal said softly. The queen smiled softly and turned to lead her husband away by his elbow. All of the guards followed without order or gesture.

Ben moved out of the doorframe as Mal moved closer to the door. Before she could turn the knob, he began to speak. "Y'know, I won't hold it against you if you choose to not marry me. I'll understand."

Mal blinked. The young prince refused to meet her eyes as pink filled his cheeks. "You know…" She began with a sarcastic smirk. "…in most places they would call that a guilt trip."

Ben's eyes flitted up and met hers. There was no magic in that proverbial contact. "No offense, I'm kind of surprised to meet a villain kid like you."

Mal furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?" She questioned.

He held up his hands in defense. "Not interested in taking over the world for starters. How did Maleficent raise a kid like you?"

Mal chuckled dryly, and it was about that time it occurred to her that her throat was unbelievably dry. That must be why she felt so light-headed. "Usually I'm interested." She admitted as she licked her lips. They were beginning to become chapped. "But forced marriage to the crown prince is slightly more important, you know?" She pinched her fingers together to exemplify exactly how minutely important this was.

Ben laughed, which startled Mal because so far, none of the royals had thought her sarcasm was funny. "Yeah, I guess I can see that." He chuckled.

Mal cocked her head at him and examined his stance. The way he clung to the wall and searched her hostile stance made her furrow her lips in thought. "You're not very confident in yourself, are you?" She asked.

Ben shrugged and looked overall uncomfortable with the question. "I dunno." He trailed off. "I'm still learning the rungs, you know."

Mal watched as he shifted his weight from foot to foot and let his gaze flicker between her eyes, her collarbone, and the floor. "Yeah. Whatever. Anyways, I need to take a shower now." Mal reached for the handle.

"Right!" Ben reached out and opened the door for her, narrowly avoiding hitting her in the nose. "Bye." He waved with a small, embarrassed smile as she ducked under his arm.

"Bye." She waved in return and stepped inside.

The door swung closed, and she fell against the heavy wooden entrance in exhaustion. On the other side of the door, she heard a soft whisper of: "Nice to meet you too." Before footsteps carried the speaker away. She laughed a little. The remark hadn't been mean, or angry, only intrigued. Mal turned and couldn't stop an odd smile that spread around her mouth as she pressed her ear to the door, wondering if she'd hear more muttering from the Prince. There was none, but Mal was still intrigued. What an interesting collection of people.

[softfics9]

Post-Its - Chapter 5/5

Fandom; SF9

Main Pairing; Kim Youngbin/Kim Inseong

Side Pairings; Kim Seokwoo|Rowoon/Baek Juho|Zuho

Genre; Fluff, Slow Burn, College AU

Trigger Warnings; Mentions of alcohol, hinted past emotional abuse

Word Count; 2,624

Rating; PG-13

Beta’d; No

Cross-Posted on; AO3

Other Chapters; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Authors Notes/Closing Comments; So this was my first full length chaptered fic! I hope you enjoyed it! I am working on four more fics in this universe (I wanted to make them one-shots but it hasn’t turned out that way). I’ll be going back to university myself in a week so I may not get as much written in that time, but I would like to keep writing as much as possible! Thank you for reading <3

The days seemed to pass by dreadfully slowly until the following Friday came around. Youngbin often caught himself drifting off in the middle of lectures, thinking about what his housemate would be like in person. He had looked up quite a few recipes for meals he would be able to make, and with Seokwoos help had finally narrowed it down to two options that were relatively simple. The three youngest accompanied him to the supermarket that weekend after the dance club finished up their practice, he was going to get all the necessary ingredients for both dishes and just let Inseong decide on the night. “He doesn’t have any allergies right hyung? Or any aversion to certain foods?” Taeyang was always looking out for things like that, but Youngbin assured him that Inseong loved all foods and had no allergies. They had confirmed things like that when they started doing grocery lists together, to make sure neither of them would have a bad reaction to anything they brought into their apartment. It really was so domestic, and Youngbin couldn’t wait until he finally would be able to put a face to the name, and a voice to the notes on their fridge.

Inseong was having second thoughts about agreeing to the whole dinner thing, just the two of them alone in their apartment. Not because he didn’t want to meet Youngbin, not at all, but rather because of how useless he felt. Youngbin had already said he was going to cook, and had two options in mind, so all that was left for Inseong to do was show up. It was Wednesday and he was lying in the middle of his bedroom floor with his entire wardrobe scattered around him. He had spent the last two hours trying to decide what he was going to wear since it was very important to him that he looked good. Kim Youngbin was gorgeous, Inseong had seen him in the start of term dance open in his sleeveless tank top and shorts, and his arms and legs were no joke. That was before he knew they were actually living together and thinking back on it made it even worse.

“Sanghyukkie~ I need help choosing what to wear on Friday. What time are you finished classes today?”

In his desperation, he rang his friend, Jaeyoon would have been more of a help in the realm of fashion but he was away on a university field trip today and so could not come and help him out.

“Hyung you know I stay late to work in the radio club on Wednesday, you’ve got loads of really nice clothes and it’s just a casual dinner. Why are you stressing so much? I gotta go ok? Don’t forget to eat before work!”

He sighed as his youngest friend ended the call and threw his phone onto the pile of shirts beside his bed. There was no reason for him to be worrying so much, that was true, but first impressions were important and Inseong really wanted his housemate to look at him and think “Woah”. There was nothing he could do with what he currently had, he would just have to go shopping before work tomorrow instead. With that decided he spent the next half hour diligently cleaning up his self-made mess and got ready for work. On his way out the door, as an afterthought, he grabbed a small shopping bag to bring with him. If Youngbin was going to be making the food, then the least he could do was supply them with some alcohol. At least that way if things got awkward they had a backup plan.

Friday arrived none too soon and Youngbin was a nervous wreck. He hadn’t been able to concentrate at all and for the first time in his four years, he skipped out on his afternoon lectures for reasons other than illness or dance practice. He didn’t have the capacity to feel guilty though, as he was poring over the two recipes again to make sure he had absolutely everything. It was weird being in the apartment during the day he decided, he hadn’t gotten to think about it much when he was here scrambling to write a Post-It the week before, but it felt very strange. Youngbin sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, there was nothing else he could do other than wait for Inseong to get back. The situation he was in suddenly struck him and the nervous butterflies increased ten-fold. He was never here during the day, he only ever arrived back after Inseong had left for work, his housemate was going to be home from his classes any minute and would not be expecting him there, it was another two hours before they were supposed to meet. Youngbin decided he would wait it out in the library and was just out of the kitchen when the front door opened.

A guy he could only assume was Inseong walked in through the front door of the apartment, and Youngbin felt his breath hitch at the sight before him. His housemate had soft brown hair that fell across his forehead in a fringe. He was wearing the cutest round glasses and was dressed simply in a white t-shirt, oversized black cardigan and jeans. He had headphones on so hopefully didn’t hear Youngbins gasp of surprise. When he looked up, a pair of intelligent brown eyes met his and for a split second the world stopped spinning.

Inseong screamed, not in fright but more from the shock and embarrassment of the situation. He had thought he would have at least an hour when he got back from his classes to get ready to meet Youngbin. Yesterday he had dragged his two friends out to buy new clothes and had come home satisfied with an outfit that he felt said “classy but cool”. But now here he was standing in their entry hall, wearing his glasses and a casual outfit in front of the guy he’s had on his mind 24/7 this last week. And he looked stunning, a three-tone knitted sweater, with a pair of jeans, and his hair falling casually across his forehead. It was unfair and his loud mouth decided screaming was the best response to the situation. It really wasn’t and Youngbins face creased with worry and what seemed like guilt at his reaction. Before he could even get his head back to normal, suddenly Youngbin had crossed the space between them, and all Inseong could see were his pink lips moving and hear violins in his head. He then realised he still had his headphones on, and his cheeks flushed pink in more embarrassment.

Youngbin had panicked when the guy across from his screamed and the only logical response his body could think of was to move closer, he ended up closer to Inseong than was necessary and while he had stopped screaming Youngbin couldn’t help but stare at his pretty lips. Then his housemates hands had come up in front of his face and his attention was drawn upwards, to where nervous eyes were staring at him as he took his headphones down from his ears.

“Um, hi? I’m Inseong.”

His voice was lower than Youngbin expected, and it was soft and velvety, there was a slightly husky quality to it too. There was a strange aching in his chest and the sudden desire to ask Inseong to sing to him, but he hurriedly shook that thought away. Then he realised he had been staring and not replied and felt himself turn bright red.

“Oh yeah um, hi. I’m Youngbin your housemate, you probably figured as much, but you screamed and I just wanted to assure you I didn’t break in or something.”

Inseong was slightly taken aback by how soft and raspy his housemates voice was, it was certainly not what he had expected from someone who held a leadership role. Although he was surprised, there was a desire to hear more and more of his voice.

“Yeah, I guessed so. I just honestly wasn’t expecting you to be here that’s all. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“No no I wasn’t frightened, just worried about you.”

Youngbin smiled sheepishly and Inseong laughed a little as he scratched the back of his neck. They were finally meeting face-to-face after almost two months of living together and while it was a relief, there was an obvious awkwardness in the air.

“Ahem – well why don’t I just go put away my bag and that and we can discuss the plan for dinner?”

It was so tense, and both of them could feel it although neither knew what the other was thinking. Youngbin nodded and went to go move himself back towards the kitchen, shuffling his feet as he went. Inseong gladly escaped into his room and threw his stuff down onto his bed, he felt like crying. There was no way he would be able to get changed without it seeming suspicious, and he didn’t want Youngbin thinking he saw this as a date or anything. He quickly freshened up by washing his face and putting on a bit of makeup that showed off his cat-like eyes, and shot a distress text to his friends. This was going to be a longer night than expected and he needed them to be prepared for an intervention.

Youngbin heard the door to Inseongs room shut and immediately dropped to the floor, his heart was racing so fast he was surprised it hadn’t been heard by the other. After taking a few shaky breaths he sent a possibly incoherent string of messages to the group chat before attempting to fix his hair a bit. He stood awkwardly by the ingredients he had bought and waited. While he was waiting he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to his housemate. He was definitely one of the most beautiful guys Youngbin had ever met, and that’s saying something after being to one of Seokwoos fashion club meetings before, where he had met an actual angel by the name of Cha Eunwoo. But Inseong just looked so casually handsome, and yet incredibly intelligent at the same time, and Youngbin knew he was a goner.

When his housemate came back out and into the kitchen Youngbin swore he felt the breath knocked out of him again. There weren’t any noticeable differences to his outfit, but his glasses were gone and eyes looked so sharp and piercing, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Inseong may have smirked a little at the open-mouthed look Youngbin was giving him, and thought that perhaps he had a chance after all.

Dinner actually turned out to be a very enjoyable affair, after deciding on which of the two dishes they wanted to eat Youngbin quickly set to work. Inseong offered his assistance by chopping vegetables and handing over the required cooking utensils, but for fear of somehow poisoning the food he refrained from doing any of the actual cooking. They got the chance to make small talk during the process, learning a little more about what they studied and family life. Youngbin talked animatedly about his dancing and Inseong retold stories from his year living in London.

As they were getting ready to sit down, meal fully prepared and two hungry stomachs grumbling, Inseong pulled out a bottle of white wine from the fridge, cocking his eyebrow cheekily. Youngbin laughed and nodded enthusiastically, they didn’t need alcohol to help the conversation but it would be a nice accompaniment to their food. One glass turned to two and then three, and while neither of them were drunk there was a freer way of speaking between them. They decided that the dishes could wait until the next day to be done, and Youngbin made his way over to flop face first onto the couch. It had been a perfect evening, the two getting to know each other and chatting like old friends about past experiences. He was content to just lay there and let the alcohol buzz through his system when something cold touched his cheek.

“I knew you went to bed early, but it’s only nine in the evening, you’re not falling asleep on me just yet are you?”

There was a playful tone to Inseongs voice, and when he turned his head he saw the taller man crouching beside the couch with several bottles of soju in hand. He had a wicked grin on his face and Youngbin felt hot all of a sudden. But he could hold his alcohol pretty well, at least by his friend’s standards, and there was no way he would turn down such an obvious challenge. Not to mention, it would be more time spent getting to know his housemate so he was not going to refuse. He swung himself into a seated position on the couch and patted the newly available space next to him. Inseong was not expecting the daring grin on his housemates face, but it could only mean good things. So he plopped himself down, possibly closer than Youngbin was expecting and definitely closer than necessary, but he was on a high from the food and the wine and the positive feeling he got from their time together so far, and didn’t want it to end just yet.

“A toast then, to finally meeting each other after so long.”

Youngbin raised his bottle to that, and they both took a big swig, for courage. The bitter alcohol burned its way down his throat but it was enough to keep him grounded in the moment. The further into their bottles they went, the more personal the conversation became, telling stories that few others knew of. Youngbin opened up about Youjin, who his friends knew about, but also Seungjun, someone they didn’t, recalling his first time actually sleeping with another guy and the hurt he felt when he realised he had been used. Inseong in turn told him of Johnny but also about Jaehyun, and a trip to Oido that he had never shared with anyone before. It was private and personal, and the pair felt themselves growing closer as the night progressed. Eventually they reached the end of the stash, and both a little more than tipsy they called it a night. As they were about to part ways at their respective rooms, Youngbin grabbed Inseong by the wrist.

“I really had a great evening with you, it was nice getting to know you better and just talk.”

“Yeah it was, I’m glad we’ve gotten close enough to share personal things like we did.”

Inseongs voice dropped lower under the influence of alcohol, and Youngbins soft raspy tones were close to inaudible. But in the little space between them, they heard everything and felt the bond that was something more than just friendship become solidified. As they both nodded and moved away, Inseong couldn’t stop himself from saying something stupid.

“You know, I’ve kept them all. The Post-Its I mean.”

There was an unreadable emotion in Youngbins eyes as he turned to look at him, but he smiled softly and tilted his head to the side.

“Me too. Goodnight Inseong.”

When the two bedroom doors and their occupants lay down in bed, all was quiet and peaceful in the apartment. Only now, the awkwardness and nervous energy that had been bouncing around since the start had dispersed, and was replaced by a more intimate bond and understanding. They would both make more time to see each other, they knew that much. But what they didn’t know yet, was how much they would make their little time count.

[elspethsunschampion]

Fact or Fiction: Chapter Eight

Rated M for abuse, sexual content, and discussion of rape/non-con.  Canon-typical violence.

Summary: It’s Ral Zarek’s sixth year at Hogwarts. And everything would be fine if Jace wasn’t totally occupied with his new girlfriend, to the point where it’s honestly kind of weird, and Ral’s starting to be concerned. Now if only everyone would stop telling Ral he’s just jealous and LISTEN to him…after all, he’s NOT just jealous, right? (Sequel to Send to Sleep.)

Ships: Jace Beleren/Ral Zarek, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Hermione Granger, Nissa Revane/Chandra Nalaar, Elspeth Tirel/Teysa Karlov

A/N: Many, many thanks to @paperclipminimizer for beta-ing and checking my timeline, as well as answering all my questions about Harry Potter. Thanks also to Juri, @dragons-suck, and everyone on Sketchydoodles’ Vorthos server for listening to me rant about this thing as it took shape.

Also available on AO3 and FFnet.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight: Rally

           The new arrival turned out to be extremely hungry in addition to frustrated. Ral took her down to the kitchens and politely asked the house elves to get her some food, which they were more than happy to do.

           “So you’re Elspeth’s pen pal?” he said, after Teysa had eaten her way through three pumpkin sandwiches and was finally looking as if she were going to slow down.

           Teysa nodded, neatly patting a few crumbs away from the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “And when I didn’t hear from her in a few weeks, I got concerned,” she explained. “We’ve been writing back and forth for years, and she has never missed a response.”

           Chewing on his lip, Ral made a split-second decision. “Okay, so I think I know who did this to her,” he said, then put up a hand to stop Teysa from rising up into a whirlwind of fury. She would probably have fallen off the high stool they had put her on anyway; her feet were dangling about a foot above the ground. “Nobody believes me, so maybe I—” he grimaced, “—it’s possible that I’m wrong, but I don’t think so.”

           Quickly, he brought Teysa up to speed on the events of the semester.

           “Well,” she said, pulling a face, “I do think you might be jealous—” Ral growled at her, “—but I also think you’re correct, so it doesn’t matter.”

           “I just don’t know what to fucking do about it,” Ral complained. “I mean, I guess I could try to follow Emmara or something? But I don’t even know if that would work, and those aren’t the kind of spells I know how to cast. I’m not so good at subtle.”

           “I don’t know how to cast them, either, but I can direct you to do so.” Teysa’s eyes were sharp. “I’m an excellent tutor, and I have a good knowledge of subterfuge and spying.”

           “But if you can’t cast them yourself—”

           “I’m a squib.” Teysa’s admission made her face screw up as if she’d swallowed a lemon. “I can’t cast spells.”

           Well, that did explain why she wasn’t at school at Hogwarts. “I’m a Muggleborn,” Ral shrugged. “Hell, I nearly went to high school at a Muggle school. Well, I guess I wouldn’t have because I wouldn’t want to leave Jace and Elspeth, but I bet I’d have learned a lot.”

           Teysa’s thin eyebrows went up expressively. “Hm,” she said, as if she hadn’t been expecting that reaction. “Well, I’m sure I can teach you some very useful spells.” She gave him a thin smile. “And then we can figure out exactly what is going on.”

           First things first, Ral thought. They needed a place for Teysa to stay, and spending time in the Hufflepuff common room or dormitories was definitely not a good idea. Ral got on all right with the other Slytherins, but he didn’t spend much time in the dungeon as a rule; someone might notice. He wasn’t close to anyone in Ravenclaw. Well, what was left was pretty obvious. Ral grinned darkly. Emmara was going to be sorry she’d fucked with Jace, and maybe even sorrier that she’d fucked with Nissa.

           “C’mon,” he said to Teysa.

           “Where are we going?” As she asked, she carefully got to her feet, wincing a little. “Damn.”

           “What’s wrong?”

           “It’s nothing,” Teysa snapped, and Ral paused at her sudden irritation, then shrugged.

           “All right then,” he said. “We’re going to find a friend.”

           He had been a little worried that Chandra would still be hanging around the Hospital Wing instead of back in her dorm, but they had go slowly, partly because Teysa seemed to be limping slightly, and partly because Ral wasn’t sure that he wanted to run into anyone else with her. There might be awkward or annoying questions, since he had no idea what the provisions were for non-wizard visitors at the school who weren’t relatives.

           When they reached the Gryffindor common room, it was deserted apart from Gideon, who had his feet curled up under him as he squatted on the couch, frowning over a Potions textbook. He looked up briefly and nodded at Ral, smiled politely at Teysa.

           “Is that your sister?” he asked Ral.

           “Oh, ah—” Before Ral had quite decided, Teysa smiled winningly and answered for him, “Yes, that’s me.”

           “Um, yeah, Gideon, this is Teysa,” Ral said, wondering if they really looked that much alike. “Teysa, Gideon. Hey, we were just looking for Chandra, is she around?”

           Gideon’s forehead creased back into a frown. “She’s up in the dorm,” he said. “She’s kind of upset. You, um, you might want to be careful going up there. She tends to—break things.”

           “Been there.” Ral shrugged and led Teysa up the stairs towards the Gryffindor girls’ dormitories.

           He didn’t bother to knock, opting instead to just throw open the door. This turned out to nearly be a painful error, because a wave of crackling flame was suddenly heading directly for his face. Luckily for him, he’d had his hand on his wand, and he managed to snap it up and shout, “Protego!” before he and Teysa were charred to a crisp.

           “Oh,” Chandra said, dully. “It’s you. Sorry.”

           “Yeah, what’d you think?”

           Chandra was sprawled on her bed, idly playing with her wand—well, maybe not so idly. She stared up at him, sighed, and shrugged.

           “This is Teysa,” Ral said, letting his new friend squeeze in the door behind him. “She’s here to help us get rid of Emmara.”

           “Oh really?” Chandra sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She looked at Teysa skeptically. “How exactly is a ten-year-old going to help?”

           Teysa stared her down levelly, drawing herself up to her full height of slightly-less-than-five-feet. “I am seventeen and a half,” she said, “and I happen to be the heir to the Orzhov family, so I have a great deal of experience with dark magic.”

           “Huh,” Chandra said. “What are you doing here?”

           “I came to look for Elspeth.”

           “Oh,” said Chandra, then, “Ohhhh. Oh wow.”

           “So can she stay here? Seems like the easiest place for her. I think it’s better if Emmara doesn’t know about her.”

           “Yeah, I’ll figure something out.” Chandra’s face puckered slightly. “Um, I’m sorry about the, um, the fire thing,” she said rapidly, staring at her feet.

           “I’m fine.” Ral rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “It’s not a problem.”

           “I’m not sure what happened.”

           “Professor Lovegood said you might be an elementalist,” Ral offered. “Like me.”

           “A what?”

           He shook his head. “We can talk about it another time. Right now I’d really like to figure out what the fuck Emmara is doing to Jace and the others and how to stop it.”

           “Right. Let’s see how good you two are at magic,” Teysa smirked.

           Hermione collapsed into bed with a sigh. She had been intending to do a little work this evening, and then read through some of the more promising titles that she and Luna had hunted out of the library, but she was just so tired. Maybe she’d just go to bed early, just this once—

           A knock on her door startled her back to full wakefulness. For a moment, she considered turning over and just going to sleep, but, with a sigh, she decided against it. Heaving herself out of bed was more of an effort than she felt it should have been. She stood for a moment, rubbing her eyes and trying to smooth her hair, and then, finally, she answered the door.

           Outside, Luna was shifting from foot to foot. She looked up with a hopeful smile when she saw Hermione. “Good evening!” she said brightly, and Hermione had to smile back. It was almost unsettling, how warm and wonderful everything seemed when Luna was around. Something about her just lit up whatever room she was in. “I wondered if you wanted to go through some more of the books together.”

           If it had been anyone else, Hermione would have said that she really ought to get some sleep instead, but her mind weighed the thought of an extra hour of sleep versus an extra hour of Luna, and Luna came out miles ahead almost instantly. “I’d—I’d like that,” she replied. “Do come in.”

           Luna had been in Hermione’s small quarters before, though they usually spent most of their time together in the teachers’ lounge, but tonight she hovered as Hermione slowly got out the books she’d been planning to look over, and Hermione realized that she had left several stacks of ungraded papers obscuring every seat in the room. She laughed and patted the bed next to her. “I’m sorry, I honestly meant to clear this place up a bit yesterday,” she told Luna. “I’ve just been dreadfully tired lately.”

           “Oh—that’s fine.” Strangely, Luna was almost stammering. “Er, are you sure?”

           Hermione glanced back at her to see that both of Luna’s cheeks were flushed, and her hands were twined rather nervously behind her back. “Yes, of course,” she answered, a little blankly. “Why would I mind?”

           Luna blinked rapidly and smiled widely. “Oh, no reason,” she said. “Just, you know, sometimes one’s—one’s robe can have grab—grabknacks without one knowing about it, and I wouldn’t want you to get—itchy.”

           Hermione raised an eyebrow as Luna moved jerkily closer. “I believe you made that up,” she said slowly.

           “I did not,” Luna responded immediately. “I’d never—just make something up.” Her cheeks had definitely turned bright red. “It would be—” she waved a hand, “—unethical for an expert in unusual creatures to simply make something up off the top of her head.” She looked to the side, then sighed. “Although perhaps you’re right that I don’t—exactly—believe that grabknacks exist. Their provenance was disputed as far back as the seventeenth century, and, well, by now, even people who are more open-minded about magical creatures—don’t really—think there’s much evidence…”

           “Are you all right?” Hermione asked sleepily. “I really don’t mind you sitting on my bed. I don’t mind most people sitting on my bed, really, but I especially wouldn’t mind you doing it.”

           “Especially me?” Luna echoed. “Then I won’t refuse, but, um…” She sat gingerly on the side of the bed, then sighed. “’Mione,” she said in a small voice. “I know people think I’m odd. Well, I mean. I am odd.”

           She looked suddenly sad and small and almost drooping as she sat on Hermione’s bed, her hands bunching together in the robe above her knees.

           “Yes,” Hermione agreed, sliding over to her and wondering whether she needed to be comforting. She had never been exactly good at ‘comforting.’ When Ron or Harry had problems, she was far better at offering solutions than comfort, but she was aware that sometimes people didn’t actually need their problems fixed, per se. “I mean, I suppose you’re odd, but your friends don’t mind. We like oddity. I like oddity.”

           “When I was nineteen, I kissed one of my friends, and she definitely didn’t like it,” Luna said abruptly. “You see, I thought she might like it, because I thought she might like me like that, but she didn’t. I’m not very good at knowing if someone would like me to kiss them. And it gets awkward, and people think I’m odd. Which I don’t normally mind at all, but when people don’t want to be around me because I’m odd, I sometimes get sad. Especially if they’re people I like very much.”

           Hermione stared at her, feeling her own cheeks heat just a little. She hadn’t spent much time considering romantic situations since the one with Ron imploded so horribly, and she hadn’t dwelled on the fact that the signals she and Luna had been sending each other were possibly a little less than platonic. But there had been a good deal of touching and hugging—more than Hermione was used to, or generally comfortable with, even with close friends. And the way she’d found herself looking at Luna at odd moments, even the first time she’d seen her this year, in the loo at that awful party. As if she didn’t want to look away.

           “Luna,” she said. “Erm, do you want to kiss me?”

           Luna turned to her, and Hermione was a little concerned to see that there were tears welling up her eyes. “Well, yes,” she admitted. “I want to. But I don’t want you not to want to be around me anymore.”

           “I, er,” said Hermione. She slid a hand to the side and touched the top of Luna’s hand, feeling the tight tension riding in the top of her friend’s knuckles. “Actually, I—I think I’d like to kiss you, too.”

           “You would? Really?”

           Suddenly feeling strangely shy, Hermione forced herself to nod.

           “Oh,” Luna said, smiling. “That’s very nice.” She blinked once, and a tear rolled out of her eye and down her nose. She reached up and brushed it away. “Oh, dear,” she said. “That’s awfully silly that my eyes are still doing this, then.”

           Taking a deep breath, Hermione awkwardly moved one hand up and cupped Luna’s cheek. “I honestly don’t mind,” she breathed, and she pushed the golden strands of Luna’s hair back, leaned forward, and brushed her lips against Luna’s. Before she could pull back, Luna’s hand was in her hair, and Luna was kissing her back as well, sighing into her mouth. It felt wonderful.

           Luna’s hand turned over beneath hers and laced their fingers together. Breathlessly, insistently, she kissed the corner of Hermione’s mouth. “I like this,” she said. “I like this quite a bit.”

           “Me, too,” Hermione admitted. The back of her head felt odd, though, the tiredness that she’d almost forgotten coming back with force. “Tired, though,” she mumbled. “I think I need to sleep.”

           “Oh—I’m sorry—I’ll leave you to sleep.”

           Hermione smiled hazily through the veil of sleepiness. “No, no,” she protested. “Why don’t you stay?” She still hadn’t managed to change out of her robes, had she? Oh well.

           “Are you sure? I mean—the grabknacks—”

           Giggling, still desperately sleepy, Hermione grabbed Luna’s sleeve. “Definitely sure. Don’t mind being itchy anyway.” She pulled her friend down onto the bed, curling against her immediately. The last thing she heard before the darkness claimed her was Luna’s soft, happy sigh.