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fiction-in-my-blood · 4 years ago

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Obey Me! Brothers W/ Mentally Slow MC HC

~Longer than necessary A/N ahead so, if you don’t care, you don’t need to read it, just sharing stuff about myself to random strangers on the internet lol.~

So... I’m slow. Like, my brain just does not computer things quick enough a majority of the time? I’m not a great conversationalist because of it, I have a pretty bad stammer, I mix up names even though they don’t sound at all the same, and I get too excited when I do know something that when I try to say it its just a jumble of words that don’t make sense and I tell my friends to just forget about it because I know I won’t be able to say the right words lol. Luckily I have great friends and they give me the time to rethink my sentence so I can say what I want to say. Oh, and I daydream to the point I never dream in my sleep haha. So, this is basically an HC for me lol. That being said, I’m pulling from mostly my own experiences here, so I’m sorry if they sound a lil depressy haha.

And I would like to say, if anyone can relate, there’s literally nothing wrong with you!!! (Cannot stress this enough). We just have our fun lil quirks.

~Also, I’m so sorry for missing out on Belphie. I love him somuch but I could not think of a scenario for him. If I do in the future I’ll edit or reupload idk.~

~Oh, and @theshove , I finally posted again ;), although I’m sure it’s not gonna be as spicy as you’d like.~

Warnings: Descriptive explanation of a panic attack in Mammon’s HC, reference to bullying in Satan’s

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Lucifer:

At first, he was secretly pretty frustrated.

He thought it was a confidence issue, he heard that was a common thing in human youth, to not believe in yourself and have anxiety about the way you looked, spoke, sounded.

You would often be having conversations with his brothers, debating a subject that Lucifer took no interest in, and you would be about to put in your input when a stream of nonsense passed your lips.

“Y’know what, nevermind.” Was a frequent phrase that left your lips when you did slip up, sighing to yourself as you thought about how ridiculous you just sounded.

Lucifer would ensure none of the brothers, or Solomon, ever teased you about your mistakes.

Although, it was mortifying everytime you accidentally called him Levi, and vice versa.

It was hard enough when you were still getting to know the brothers, but even on a date with the eldest, Levi just seemed like an easier word to say in the moment. It led to a few upsetting misunderstandings and some pretty severe punches to Lucifer’s pride.

Once you two got closer, you explained you mixed up your words because you used to be practically mute.

You weren’t a particularly extroverted child, nor were you interested in much, so you hardly spoke at all. You never got the practice you needed to familiarise yourself with words. It was Devildom that really brought them out of you.

After you did share that with him, he thrived off hearing your voice, even when it took a solid ten seconds to contemplate what you needed to say, even stretching your mouth muscles before you started just in case you stumbled again.

Of course, you made your mistakes now and again, got stuck on a word, laughing at how ridiculous you sounded saying ‘in’ several times in a row when you were trying to argue over tonight’s dinner, but Lucifer never cracked a joke like you did about yourself.

He smiled, happy that you didn’t let this impact your personality and recovered quickly and, gradually, at snail's pace it felt like at the time, you could hold a conversation, a bright smile on your face when you were able to pull it off.

“Lucifer, I didn’t stutter this time!”

“Well done, MC, shall I give you a reward?”

Mammon:

“Useless human, can’t even talk, huh?”

Trying to act like the big tough guy he played himself out to be didn’t fare well when you first arrived in Devildom, his brothers practically beat him up every other day for it.

The first time you laid your eyes upon a demon and they explained you would be a transfer student, it took you a few minutes of silence to understand what was actually going on.

It wasn’t because this wasn’t an extraordinary situation, you were an avid reader of fantasy novels and had waited for the day to be transported away from your boring, mundane life, but you just couldn’t compute verbal speech.

In potion class, you had to ask the teacher to write down the ingredients and the quantities because you couldn’t picture the words themselves, so you couldn’t understand what the potion was actually meant to do.

“What’re you writing it all down for?”

“It’s easier for me to listen when I can read what they’re saying. I guess it’s because my hearing’s crap?”

But your hearing wasn’t all that bad, it was just easier to explain it that way than explaining how transcriptions help you listen.

Sometimes, in the hallways of RAD, the bustling students and whispering gossiping of you, a human, making a pact with Mammon? Apparently it was hilarious to everyone else.

But it wasn’t what the demons were saying, it was how loud they were saying it.

It was just too many noises at once, you couldn’t decipher the surround-sound mumbling and it stressed you out, made you uncomfortable, and gave you that all too familiar feeling of a panic attack due to the sensory overload.

Mammon realised your discomfort as tears grew in your eyes and your breathing quickened and, for a moment, he was moving to beat up every single devil that ever even mentioned the word ‘human’.

“Ma-Mammon!” Your frail voice and a tug on his sleeve pulled him back to Devildom and he turned back around to you, watching as you clenched your eyes shut, trying to ignore the buzzing that continued to rattle your brain.

“Can you take me some place quiet?”

From then on, you would often spend your lunch breaks in a quiet classroom away from the majority of students. It was a good place for you to wind down, especially, when you two were close enough, Mammon would hug you closely, helping the panic in your heart when you did have a panic attack due to all the noises.

You didn’t have them as much now, the noise cancelling headphones he had bought you brought solace as you walked from classroom to classroom.

In class, he would try his best to act as scribe when you were running behind, but he did a terrible job. His handwriting was abysmal, only now did he appreciate how quickly you had to write to keep up with the lessons.

You appreciate the sentiment all the same, placing a quick kiss on his cheek- you were dating at this point- and explained that he didn’t have to do that for you, you could just get a copy of the teacher’s notes after class.

Now he could never feel more guilty about picking on you when you first got to Devildom.

“Hey, Mamo?”

“Yeah, MC?”

“Thanks for not getting angry at me.”

Leviathan:

You were pretty silent, never really talking unless you were spoken to directly.

Yet, you still had that dumb, normie trap of cute smile on your face when you listened to everyone ranting and raving.

When you did speak, it was quiet, almost a whisper.

Thank Diavolo for the demon’s enhanced hearing because, if they didn’t, they would be constantly asking you to speak up.

It wasn’t because you didn’t like your voice or you thought you were too loud otherwise, it was just because you couldn’t really be bothered to be louder.

You were content with just listening, watching everyone have a vivid conversation about the latest trouble Mammon had gotten into or Satan raving about the last Detective show you needed to watch.

You never had any questions to ask in class, and the ones you did have would usually be asked by another student before you got the chance to even raise your hand. You weren’t a genius, just a good listener.

Levi understood, somewhat. Why would you want to talk to his normie brothers? They had nothing interesting to say.

Most of the time he suspected you just weren’t listening to them.

But, it’s when you were alone together in his room as he told you about the latest anime he was enjoying, he got annoyed.

“Are you even listening to me? I don’t even know why I try. You don’t deserve Henry!”

“I was listening. You were explaining how you think the next season of TSL is going to go. I’ll admit, the Lord of Shadow saving that servant from the Lord of Corruption seems a little far fetched, but it’d be interesting to watch.”

That had possibly been the longest group of sentences he had ever heard you string together at once. And they were so soft, no hint of trepidation from his accusation.

Eyes wide in embarrassment for misreading the situation, and getting so aggressive about it, Leviathan looked away.

“I’m sorry, I know I seem really dismissive all the time. I just enjoy listening to you talk about your passions.”

The bright smile on your face calmed him down, as it usually did, and, every so often, you would make your comments about the shows you know only because of him. He was very good at explaining plot lines. Even when you had never seen the show, you felt like you had.

You would mainly just talk to Levi from then on, getting to the point where you could express your own hobbies without him judging you as a normie and more as a friend.

Well, not a friend, more than that, much more, but a friend would have to do for now.

The first time you strike up a conversation with him, calling his name from down the hallway of the house you’re staying in as he walks with Asmodeus, Mammon and Beelzebub is possibly the greatest day of Levi’s life.

“Lefty.” You accidentally pronounce his name wrong, like you sometimes do with “Bell” and “Ashmo”.

You didn’t have any problems with saying their names normally, but when you were tired, all hopes of communicating like a normal human being went out the window.

Your words were a low mumble, but they were something Levi had learnt to understand fluently from your late night gaming sessions that would usually end in ruin when your tired brain drastically slowed your reflexes.

“I heard it was your 200,000th bicentennial birthday coming up, so I asked one of my friends to commission this for you.”

Only Diavolo knows how you managed to pronounce centennial at this time of night, but you did it, handing him a paper-wrapped, flat square, a light blush dusting both your cheeks.

Asmo made a flirty, teasing comment about how close you two seemed and how, now, Levi was the lucky one.

Mammon got jealous, demanding that he wanted a birthday present, even though his milestone couple centuries had literally been a couple centuries ago.

Beel’s stomach grumbled, but he was a little curious about what you could have possibly gifted Levi, and how many words you just said as loud as they would usually be, which was wildly out of character for you.

“It’s the Lord of Shadow and the servant.” Levi gasped upon seeing the magnificent drawing your friend had made for you, which you insisted on paying for, and never had Levi been so jealous to have a friend like that. A friend with such talent.

“You were right, he did save her.” You smiled, eyes twinkling at the positive reaction Levithan had made.

You had seen the similarities in the characters with you and the demon. The servant was said to have had their voice stolen as a child, long before they and the Lord of Shadow had met. And it was obvious to you the similarities the anime brothers had with the demon brothers, but you wouldn’t dare tell Levi that. You were worried he’d get shy and call you a normie again.

So that statement you made was a form of confession to Levi. Something you hoped he would understand.

“You watched the season without me?! How did you even get the DVD? It’s not even out yet!”

Yeah, no such luck there.

“Levi, you know what isn’t fair?”

“What could possibly be unfair for you in this situation?”

“That you aren’t as good a listener as I am.”

Satan:

You were an avid texter, just like Satan.

Your fingers moved so quickly against the screen of your D.D.D or the keyboard of a computer, it was amazing someone could see them.

And you were smart. On electronics, you could keep up conversations on the latest book you were reading and discuss the detective shows you and he liked to watch together.

It was only when you spoke in person did your conversations so down.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” You cried out after a particularly long and troublesome stutter, mainly annoyed because it was an easy word but all the b’s tied your tongue like a tongue twister. Ironically, you felt like you were blubbering like an idiot.

Your stammer used to be worse, far worse. So bad you couldn’t even tell your parents anything without getting angry at yourself, but you got the speech therapy and learnt to just take it slow when you got eager.

Everytime you see Satan, you want to be able to match his intellect and speed. You felt almost competitive.

But it would hardly ever work out in your favour, your ‘S’s coming out like you were trying to start an old engine and ‘B’s and ‘D’s being switched in for each other like you were a toddler.

You spoke before you thought of what you were going to say, hoping the words would just float out of my mouth like everyone else’s did.

But no. Not for you.

You had to carefully plan each sentence, thinking about every conversation you had so you could make a pre-made answer just so you wouldn’t look like a fool taking so long to speak.

You were ashamed most of the time, bullied for your impediment as a child and even in your teen years by people you told yourself were your friends but really weren’t when they called you teasing nicknames instead of your given one after you had asked them several times to use it.

They were the main reason you still didn’t have the confidence to speak well now.

“Hey, take it easy. We’re not in a rush.”

Satan would always be nice, politely giving you the time you needed to take a breather, calm down, and start over again, still blushing from your last stuttering episode.

“Why don’t you call me an idiot?”

A lot of questions similar to these, the only difference- the name you would be called, passed your lips sometimes, when there was a lull in your time together.

You were used to people making fun, telling you to just shut up already so they didn’t have to hear your stupidity anymore.

“You’re not stupid. I care about what you have to say.”

Satan was always so serious everytime he answered a variation of your question, showing you he really cared.

You blushed, your mind blank and it would take a couple minutes after that initial compliment for you to reboot.

It was true, though.

Satan enjoyed watching your lips move and the sound of your voice as you two discussed who the killer in his detective show could be.

You both always came to the same conclusion before the episode ended.

Because most of your conversations happened through text, he found he missed your tone and expressive face when you got really into a subject.

He didn’t care if you stuttered, it was far better than just watching words flash across a screen, as most of your conversations went, on his D.D.D

Although, he did care that you got so angry with yourself.

Being the Avatar of Wrath, he understood how easy it was to give into frustration and just want to hit something every time you made a mistake, he had done that many times in his younger years, and it wasn’t healthy.

It wasn’t healthy to be ashamed of a mere stumble or get mad at yourself for it, you never learnt that way.

One night, laying in his bed, platonically, you shared your reasoning behind getting so mad everytime you stuttered.

You had seen Satan’s demon-form once before, but never had you seen it arise so quickly and so fiercely.

You had been down all day and he had brought you to his room so you could feel comfortable enough to talk to him, but this fearful man, no, creature before you only put you more on edge.

But he continued to hold you.

He continued to wrap his arms around you from behind, spooning your body, trying his best not to fly out of hell right now and hunt down those who had picked on and teased you for all those years for something you couldn’t even help.

To think the reason you hated something he found so endearing was because some mere humans had made you think your excitement to communicate with people was something wrong?

“I don’t think this exchange program is going to work out.”

“Wh...Why?” You tried your hardest now to sound strong, sighing to yourself when you repeated the letters.

“Because I won’t be able to hold back if I have free access to the human world. What kind of assholes do that?”

“Teenage assholes.”

Asmodeus:

What a cute little airhead.

From the moment he first met you, Asmo loved the clueless looks on your face as you sifted through the information you were being given, seconds behind the punch everyone else could get to.

You were slow, but you were meticulous, combing through every piece of information you could to give the correct response.

You were actually pretty smart because of that fact, studying so hard on everything you did so you weren’t embarrassed by being wrong.

And you weren’t too big with the whole ‘social cues’ thing either, mistaking Satan’s sarcasm for truth and Leviathan’s anger for genuine, relationship-ruining upset, desperately trying to fix the situation so that no one would get hurt.

You were selfless in the strangest of ways, too, opting to go without something you actually, really needed before asking someone for help.

Once, you had tried ordering shower gel off of Akuzon, but, instead, ordered Shaitan Gell, a special ingredient often used by witches to summon demons.

You had wondered why it was so expensive, but thought that maybe the Devildom economy wasn’t doing so well right now.

(It wasn’t your money you were using, so what the hell?)

It was even more confusing when it smelled a little off, but demons had strange tastes. Beelzebub literally ate brains and bat wings on the daily.

When Diavolo showed up in your shower the first time you used the oddly thick, black liquid, you just cocked your head, too weird to be embarrassed. Thinking this was a regular occurance in Devildom, you gave the prince a hearty hello and asked him, if he needed anything, could he please wait outside so you could get dressed first.

The news spread like wildfire, especially when Diavolo randomly vanished from a meeting with Lucifer.

When everyone did find out, as Lucifer was reprimanding you for using such a relic in that way, they teased you endlessly, some offering you their own makes of the potion so you might accidentally summon them in the same way.

Every flirty or sexual remark Asmo made went right over your head, thinking that with every personal question he asked was just asked to make conversation and not genuine interest on his part.

“Do you have a partner?”

“Well, no, I don’t really compete in dance competitions or anything.”

“What positions do you usually go for?”

“I don’t play many sports, but if I had to pick, I’d say a pitcher in baseball. I have a pretty mean throw!”

It actually became a little bewildering how oblivious you were to all of his advances, thinking every time he draped himself over you he was cold and you offered him your jumper.

He took them everytime, so you were starting to run low. He tended to hoard them in his room, savouring the sweet scent of the body wash he had bought for you after the Shaitan incident.

“Asmo, can I get my hoodie back?”

You called through his closed door at some point after returning from school in the dead of winter, shivering in the sweat pants and long sleeved top you already had on.

You were generous, you didn’t think you personally were, but all the brothers knew you would give anyone anything if they asked for it.

That’s why it wasn’t that ridiculous when Asmo had all of your jackets. Hoodies from years ago, sweaters you bought just to treat yourself because they were so soft, and even this jumper you got from your ex-boyfriend in high school, something you meant to give back but never managed to. You forgot every time you went to meet him with that exact intent the reason for seeing him.

It didn’t remind you of him, he barely wore it before you practically stole it, but it did make Asmo’s heart skip a beat at the ‘sweater-paws’ you got from the much-too-long sleeves.

Following a clattering from what sounded like trash cans, followed by a comical shriek of a cat, the door flew open to a slightly disheveled Asmodeus, fabric clutched in his hand as he stood topless before you.

“Oh, sorry, Asmo. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m just so cold.”

You laughed to show you weren’t upset with him as you rubbed your arms, bouncing on the balls of your feets to get your blood moving enough to create some heat.

How could all these devils, avatars of the seven deadly sins, not have heating?

“Let me warm you up, MC!”

Without even stopping to hear your answer, but he knew you’d say yes, no matter what, Asmo pulled you in by the wrist, immediately wrapping his bare arms around you the moment the door was closed.

He was warm and you were comfortable with him, he showed you curiosity and care, so you eased into that embrace, thinking it a friendly gesture as a thank you for using your clothes all the time.

When you felt a slight nibble on your ear, you started to freak out a little.

You stuttered out an inquiry as to what he was doing, shyly pushing away as he drew back with his flirtatious smirk.

“I’ve made it so obvious for so long, MC. I really like you.”

Asmo cooed back, prodding your puffed out cheek with the tip of his tongue as you tilted your head to the side the same way you did every time someone told you something new.

Knowing you would be taking a moment to compute the information, Asmo used this chance to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“I really like you too, Asmo.”

The realisation came pretty suddenly.

You had never put much thought into it.

Sure, he was the Avatar of Lust, he could just be saying this so he could express his temporary desires, but that was how you felt. You weren’t one for holding back, you were always scared of forgetting the topics of your thoughts if you didn’t say them aloud, so you just went for it.

Beelzebub:

Does this person even have bones?!

Like, seriously, your tripping over your feet like they’re not even attached to your body.

Rolling your ankle, walking off in directions that definitely don’t lead to where you intend on going, skipping right passed the class you’re meant to be attending.

The amount of times you’ve gotten lost in both the House of Lamentation and RAD is honestly worrying.

Your sense of direction? What even is a map because it seems like you’ve never even heard of the concept of signs or specific routes you need to take to get to your bedroom.

To help with your impossibly slow way of getting a lay of the land in your new dorm, you would often take midnight strolls.

Often getting lost, which is how you found Belphegor up in the attic, even when you had stayed on the same floor.

That’s how you and Beel got so close.

Because of the delectable scents coming from the kitchen, you would often find him having his late night snacks.

He would invite you to stay, at first only because Lucifer had instructed him to walk you back to your room every time he found you aimlessly wandering the house late at night.

“Is your ankle okay?” He would ask through a mouthful of food, but somehow you were still able to understand him.

Blushing, you looked down as your injury that was caused earlier in the day. You had stepped weird on the side of your foot- something that would usually happen and something you would usually be able to walk away from- but this time it was on the tall spiral stairs of the school you were still getting to know, sending you tumbling down flights and flights of steps.

It was a wonder you were human, because even Solomon was shocked you survived that.

“Y-Yeah, just a little red,” was an understatement.

You’re ankle killed. It was only a little swollen thanks to the spell your sorcerer friend used on you, but that didn’t help the sprain of your tendons. It was slightly bruised, covered by your loosest, most comfortable socks.

“Are you embarrassed?” Beel pointed out your bashful blush and you looked back up. He had seen your obvious hobble as you made your way to his side, but didn’t want to mention it in case you were feeling fragile about the subject.

“It just gives me flashbacks, is all.”

Oh?

Memories from MC’s past?

Yes, Beel would very much like to hear about that.

Not to tease or bribe you with, he was genuinely curious about your little human life. Not that you could tell, but he had never been so curious about another being like that.

“Oh, god, well, I guess I trust you.” You joked, blushing harder as you laughed about the memory that plagues your thoughts.

One time, in high school, you were walking out of the cantine when you tripped over literally nothing, throwing your bottle of water across the school yard like you needed to save it from your fall. It landed in the middle of a group of older students.

The amount of laughs you got from that. The teacher that came up to you to ask if you were okay. The cut that occured on your knee.

(Yes, this is a personal story. Yes, I have ptsd every time I pick up a plastic bottle of water)

Oh, it was like you were reliving the horror right there and then.

“It was mortifying! My friends still bring it up. To. this. day.” You sulk, resting your forehead on the table to hide the deep red on your face.

“Did it hurt?” The blunt question came as a shock, that’s for sure, and you no longer felt unbearably hot when you looked up to see him. There was little look of amusement except for a kind-hearted smile.

“W-Well, not as much as this other time...”

You found yourself telling him all of your most embarrassing tales, seeking for that one story that would make him laugh the way everyone else would laugh at you.

He didn’t. At all. It was actually a little worrying that he found none of your stories funny.

Truthfully, he did find the want to chuckle at a few of them, but he didn’t want to betray your trust by laughing at such ‘precious’ memories for you.

#this has been in my drafts for far too long #I have 20 other wips #why do i do this to myself?#I so wanna write but I have like four assignments due and I have NOT started any of them TT #obey me!#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me mamo #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me fluff

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adenei · 4 years ago

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Hermione being overwhelmed and having a breakdown because Voldemort is raising again, she misses her parents so much, Snape and Slytherins bullying towards her, she's worry about Harry and afraid to fail terribly at her OWLS. Ron listening and comforting her. Friendship/romantic romione

Hi anon! Here’s a little OOTP missing moment that also plays off of one I wrote a while back about Hermione freaking out about her OWLs during the first week of school.

Thanks for the ask!

*************************

The List

Ron was walking down the stairs of the boy’s dormitory, heading for the common room. He couldn’t sleep, so he figured he might as well go downstairs and be productive. He’d probably pay for the lack of sleep in the morning, but it didn’t matter. He made his way into the common room to see someone sleeping on the couch. Upon further investigation, he realized Hermione had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace.

Ron shook his head, worried that this was becoming a regular occurrence for her. She looked so peaceful, curled up on the couch with her knees tucked into her chest, and her hair covering her face. There was a flutter in his chest, as he thought about how cute she looked there. His face felt hot as it always did when he started to think of her that way. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake these feelings that were becoming more frequent.

He tried to shake them away as he pulled out his school books and went to put them on the table, when he saw what Hermione was working on before she fell asleep. He assumed it was school work, but something else caught his eye. There was a piece of parchment there that had her neat handwriting on it, but it wasn’t homework. It had two columns on it: Things I can’t control and Things I can control.

Ron furrowed his brow, trying to understand what this was about. His eyes traveled down the ‘things I can’t control’ column first: Voldemort rising to power, Snape’s cruelty & Slytherin bullying, missing my parents, failing my O.W.L.’s. Harry. His eyes moved to the other column. ‘Things I can control’: ______________, ignore them, write to them more and spend Christmas with them, study more, ___________.

He noticed that she’d tried to come up with solutions to things she couldn’t control. Ron stared at the paper. He knew she was stressed out about her schoolwork and preparing for the O.W.L.’s, but he hadn’t realized how many other things were weighing on her as well. Maybe he wasn’t doing enough to help her after all.

“..Ron?” He looked over, startled to hear his name.

“Look who’s awake,” Ron said with a smile, hoping he was playing it cool.

“What time is it?” Hermione asked.

“Er, sometime after midnight maybe?” He honestly wasn’t sure. “What’s all this about?” Ron knew what it was, but he wanted to see how much she’d confide in him.

“Oh, it’s nothing..stupid really.” Hermione sat up.

“Doesn’t look stupid,” Ron said, giving her a look.

“It’s all just too much! I mean, I can handle the ridiculous things that Snape and Draco and Pansy say. I’ve been dealing with people saying mean things for longer than I can remember. That’s not as much of an issue as it is an annoyance. But I can’t focus enough on my school work when all I can think about is Voldemort being back, and are my parents safe? And then there’s the whole what’s Harry going to do in class next? Can’t he just go one week without landing himself in detention with that foul excuse for a human being? Why does he have to just react all the time! I- Oh,” Hermione stopped abruptly when she felt Ron’s arms around her.

Ron wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it, but whenever he was upset his Mum always hugged him, so that’s what he did for Hermione. “You’re supposed to talk to me when you feel like it’s getting too much. And not just for school either. All this stuff. It affects me too, remember?”

“But you’re just so, so relaxed about everything! How do you not get worked up by all this?”

“Dunno. But it does bother me. Don’t think for one second that I’m not worried about all this. More worried about you and Harry..”

“Oh, Ron! I’m sorry! I’m being so selfish!” She turned away from him.

“You’re not,” was all Ron could say. He wasn’t sure what else to say without giving away what else he was feeling. So he just sat there, hoping she believed him.

“Thanks, Ron.” Hermione said after a while. “I should get to bed.” She gathered her things and stood up.

“Er, right. Try and get some sleep. I know it’s a lot, but...things’ll be alright. They have to be, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Hermione said with a weak smile. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Ron said as he watched her walk away.

When Hermione got up to her dorm, she pulled out her list and added one more thing: ‘Who/what can make me feel better when I’m overwhelmed? Ron.

#romione #hp ootp

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wreckofawriter · 6 years ago

Text

Focus

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw!reader

Warnings: Slight swearing, bullying

Word count: 4,728 (this is the longest one I've ever written)

Request: Hey do you think you could do a Draco imagine? I was thinking with a ravenclaw reader who’s actually shy and clumsy.

A/n: Sorry this came out later than I anticipated, its regents week for me and I was crushed by exams. I hope to have part one of my Draco series out over the weekend. Hope you guys like this ridiculously long one!

“Ms. y/l/n” You heard an all too familiar voice say.

“Yes Professor?” You asked turning around swiftly to face the raven haired teacher.

“What happened with your potion, it was a complete disaster?” The teacher asked.

You flushed, it was no secret you weren't exactly great at positions, you were too clumsy to measure anything out, you managed to cut your finger and you always messes up the order of ingredients.

“I'm so sorry professor i'm just not very good at positions. I have been studying I swear, it just..” Your voice trailed off. “I'm sorry professor.” You mumbled looking down.

“I want you prepared for the test next Wednesday, you should be able to manage that?” He asked eyebrows raised.

“Of course professor.” You mumbled still quite flush from the whole conversation. You turned to leave walking back towards your common room. About thirty seconds later you saw the last person you wanted to. Mckenzie Clarkson. She was a fellow housemate who unfortunately was extremely popular, pretty, nimble footed and of course, smart. She was basically everything you weren't, in your mind.

“God your pathetic.” The brunett girl laughed, her stunning green eyes narrowing. “You have lost, what was it? 30 points for us today.” The girls behind her giggled whispering things to each other. “You shouldnt even be in Ravenclaw. Your far to stupid. You cant even get into the common room without help, you trip over your own feet and you are practically failing all your classes.” She smirked clearly feeling very good about herself, as you willed yourself not to cry. You hated crying, so you just glared up at her anger rushing through you like a wave, but you kept it down, what could you possibly say to her?

“Can you just let me go?” You asked voice weak.

“I don't know can we?” The hallway erupted in laughter.

“Just let me leave.” You said voice a bit stronger now as your anger grew.

“Fine.” She smirked as she moved out of the way. You quickly began to walk through the group of girls, the embarrassment was suffocating.

Just as you were about to break free of the group, a girl stuck he leg out sending you sprawling to the ground. Your hands, full of books that scattered as you attempted to get your arms in front of you, it was a failure and you landed on your elbow directly followed by you face. You groaned in pain as you felt blood begin to seep from your nose.

“Oops.” The girl giggled before they all turned to leave laughing and joking.

You lay there for a few seconds squeezing your eyes shut, begging the tears to retreat. You eventually pushed yourself up so you were sitting. You were surrounded by books and papers, you had blood rushing down your face dripping onto you shirt and you had had enough. You simply pulled yourself to the side of the hallway drawing your knees to you cest and began to cry. You knew this wouldn't stop. You were far too shy to say anything and even if you weren't the girls were right anyway. Why were you in Ravenclaw when it took you a good twenty minutes just to figure out the password to your own common room?

Just then your heard voices. You quickly moved grabbing your books and sprinting out of the hallway before anyone could see you. You sprinted the whole way back to the tower. You were greeted by the raven statue you had grown to hate. You groaned loudly.

The statue spoke, “How is it possible for you to stand behind your father while he is standing behind you?” it asked, making you groan again.

“Can you please just let me in, im covered in blood.” You grumbled knowing that it wouldn’t answer. You tried to think. How can I stand behind something that is behind me? You racked your brain for an awnser but it seemed impossible. You couldnt help it you began to cry again. Frustration, embarrassment and sadness filled you as tears streaked you cheek. Why were you put in Ravenclaw? What could that stupid, good for nothing, hat possibly seen in you that made him shout “Ravenclaw” like a farmer yelling for his next sheep to slaughter.

You then heard footsteps beside you. You turned to see Cho Chang. She was in the year above you and was everything a Ravenclaw should have been, pretty, athletic, and of course wicked smart. You wanted to hate her for being so perfect but you couldn't.

“Hey,” She said softly, “I heard what Mckenzie did. That's messed up.” She attempted to sooth you.

“It doesn't matter.” You attempted to smile but it was more of a tight lipped grimace.

“She’s wrong you know.” Cho smiled.

You gave a half hearted laugh, “What could possibly make me a Ravenclaw?”

“So much y/n,” she said, “You are crazy good at Wizards Chess for one.”

“That’s just a stupid game.” You grumbled.

“No, it takes strategy and I've never seen a single person beat you.” She pointed out.

You blushed not used to getting praised.

“Also i've seen your artwork, its beautiful, absolutely stunning.” She smiled making you blush more.

“Thanks.” you mumbled.

“Look don't let one girl get you down.” She advised before asking the statute for the riddle. It answered and she stood there thinking for a second.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, “Your standing back to back.”

The statue spun open as you hit your forehead onto you stack of books making you stumble, barley catching yourself before you fell. You cursed yourself before ascending the stairs to your room. You had had enough humiliation for today.

Draco rolled his eyes as Zambini told another terrible joke beside him, “What do you call a red head with no brains?’

“I don't know, you with red hair?” Draco mocked.

“Close but no.” the other boy snickered, “A weasley!” He erupted into laughter as they rounded the corner, heading to the common room.

As they continued talking Draco felt something thump against his foot. He looked down to see a leather bound book which he had kicked a few feet in front of him. The platinum blonde raised his eyebrows before bending down to pick it up.

“What the..” Balises voice trailed off.

Draco looked up to see a small puddle of blood at the end of the quoridor.

“Some idiot probably got hurt in potions or something.” Draco scoffed, though he was a bit confused. They continued walking being careful to avoid the blood. Draco's mind was quickly brought back to the book and he opened it to see what it was. What he saw stunned him.

They were sketches. Not crappy sketches that was done by some kid, but damn good sketches. Most of them looked like they were for herbology. There were various plants with notes about them scribbled in messy handwriting in the margins, but every few pages there was something different. On the fifth page there was a drawing of a creature he didn't recognize. It was a black horse-like creature with big leathery looking wings. He wondered what it was. They had now arrived at the common room and Draco went directly to a couch sitting down on the black leather, continuing through the book. On the eleventh page there was a drawing of a broom stick. It was read Nimbus 2000 at the handel. There were various other sketches of random objects littered throughout the pages of plants and each was extremely realistic. His thoughts were interrupted by Daphne and Pansy.

“Did you draw those Malfoy?” Daphne asked plucking the book out of his hand ignoring his protests.

“No, could I have it back?” He asked glaring at the girl.

Before she could respond Perkison interrupted, “Who’s is it Dracy?”

“Don't call me Dracy” the boy groweld, “and I haven't the slightest idea.”

“Oh, how did you get it?” Daphne asked.

“I just found it, now give it back.” He stood up snatching the book up before retreating upstairs.

“Who pissed in his cheerios?” Pansy grumbled plopping onto the couch.

The next day you had herbology first period, you quite liked herbology you were good at it too. You loved how you could just sketch after you finished the drawing of the plants and of course you love your grade in the class. It made you feel less like a loser. Just a little less. When you plopped yourself into a seat next to a Ravenclaw boy named Casey. He was always very nice and often complimented you drawings. You would be lying if you said you didn't like him a little.

After sitting down and greeting the boy you opened your bag to look for your sketchbook. It was nowhere to be found. What the heck? You thought as you searched through your bag with no luck. Then it struck you. You must have left it in the dungous yesterday. You cursed yourself quietly.

“You okay?” Casey asked beside you.

“Yeah I just lost my book,” You smiled at him blushing a bit.

“Oh. I could help you look for it later if you want.” He offered.

“O-oh I wouldn't want to bother you.” you blushed

“It's no bother, I swear i want to help.” He smiled flashing a pearly set of straight teeth.

“Ok, s-sounds good.” You stammered, you felt your face grow impossibly warmer.

The lesson continues and you talked occasionally to Casey, you did your sketch on a piece of lined paper, you would transfer them when you found your notebook. After Herbologioy you and Casey headed down to the dungeons to look for your book. You had never really hung out with him out of class and it was nice. You were fighting a blush the whole time, you weren’t really one who interacted with attractive boys out of class.

Draco began to make his way down to potions, he was still working through the drawings, there were many creatures he had never heard of before. It was odd, how had he never seen so many of these before? He was halfway through the dungeons when he heard giggling. It wasn't Pansy’s shriek, it was a soft quiet sound that made him think of the patter of rain on dewy grass. He turned the corner to see two figures in blue robes. One was a tall boy with dirty blond hair and deep brown eyes. Next to him was a y/h girl with y/h/l y/h/c hair that shone in the candle light. Her eyes were a stunning y/e/c that shared a soft yet sharp gaze with the world. He was taken aback. How had he never seen this girl before? They both looked at Draco expecting him to speak but he didn't, he simply kept walking brushing past the two, tucking the leather bound book back into his robes.

As he walked away, he heard the boy mutter something to the girl, causing her to gasp and laugh,

“Casey!” she scolded him

“Oh come on y/n that was funny.” He teased back and Draco almost gasped in surprise. That was y/n? y/n y/l/n? No way. You were in his potions class and you never even spoke up, you were constantly messing up positions too. How was that girl the same one whose name he had grown deaf to Snape yelling? I didn't seem possible.

“Shot, I have to get to positions.” you told Casey glancing at your watch. He said goodbye as you walked quickly to your worst class. You were actually unusually excited, Luna one of your best friends had offered to help you out because you had the class together and she was quite good at potions. You entered the classroom quickly and found Lun, sitting next to the girl. As you waited for class to start you chatted about the different potions and what might be on the test.

“Wait for the dragons egg you have to turn it to powder first right?” you asked to see your friends gaze elss where.

“Dracos staring at you.” She said simply as if she hadn't just said an impossible sentence.

“What?” you asked turning around to meet a pair of silver eyes already on you. They quickly dodged away making you blush tremendously. “I saw him in the hallway eairler, and Casey made a stupid joke about him, hes probally plotting my death.” You sighed reality crashing on to you.

“I don't think so.” Luna said in her usual dreamy tone.

“What else would he be doing?” You murmured returning to your notes.

Before Luna could answer Snape entered the room and you snapped your eyes to the front of the class.

“It has come to my attention that many of you are getting nothing done in this class.” He stated harshly. You cringed this was not going to end well. “And because of that fact I have made a new seating chart,” You groaned, just when you were getting excited about positions.

“Listen for your name and your partner,” He continued. “Parkinson, Belby. Goldstein, Crabbe. Greengrass, Lovegood.” You glanced at your friend who was as usual, smiling. You are happy for her as well, there were much worse partners to be had. “Corner, Zambini. Boot, Blustrode. Y/l/n, Malfoy.” The rest of the names went out of the window when you heard your partner. This was not going to be good, not good at all.

When Draco heard your name called, then quickly followed by his he felt like he was going to throw up. And it wasn't because he knew you were probably going to botch whatever potion they made, it was because he wasn't sure if he could focus around you. He blushed madly and tried to think about something else. It's just a pretty girl you bloody idiot. He scolded himself. You just met her today, he reminded himself Well just realized she existed today. He was shaken out of his thoughts by Snape's voice.

“If you don't like your partner, too bad. Move together please.” Draco glanced over at y/n who was already packing up, Zambini moved from his seat apologizing to Draco for his partner and moved toward the back where Micheal was seated.

He then saw you make your way over to him your cheeks a bit red, the same way they were when you were talking to that Casey boy in the hallway. He grimaced, how was he jealous of someone he had never spoken a word to? He then decided he would ignore every good quality you had and focus on the bad ones. That way it would be easier to pretend to hate you right?

The second you sat down his plan failed. You smelt like vanilla and roses. He wanted to lean closer to you and inhale your addicting scent forever, but instead he moved over or so he couldn't breathe in your intoxicating fumes.

“Hi, i’m y/n.” You said sweetly sticking your hand out.

“I know who you are.” Draco responded ignoring your hand and continuing to stare at the board, slouching in his seat.

“Oh ok.” You murmured. He saw a small frown take over your soft pink lips and he felt angry for being its cause.

Snape explained that you were to make a Confusing Concoction potion and told you you had till the end of class. The potion wasn't too complicated. You thought you might be able to get through this one.

“I'll get the water you can work on the feathers.” Draco drawled trying not to get to close to you as he stood. You pretend not to notice.

“Ok.” you nodded. You grabbed the feathers and began to separate the barbs from them. Not but two feathers in you yelped with pain as a barb pierced your thumb. You yanked it out hissing in pain as you saw blood drips from the wound. Draco who was now back and heating the water grimaced at the sound of your pain but refused to show that he cared.

He sighed loudly, “Look you go clean up and I will finish the feathers.”

“Thank you.” you whimpered walking towards a sink face red as the blood dripping from your hand.

Draco let out a breath he didn't know he was holding after you walked past. He then sat down and began to work on the feathers. His fingers moved easily to separate the barbs from the stalk and he couldn't help but wonder how you had possible stuck yourself with one so quickly. He then heard a thump and an apology and looked up to see you stumbling back to your seat face a brilliant red as Millicent and Boot glared after you. He snickered a bit turning back to the feathers.

Once you had most of the ingredients in you had to wait for 30 minutes for it to boil so Draco sat down and pulled out the book of drawings he had found.

He was flipping through the pages again when he heard a gasp beside him. He looked up eyebrows raised.

“Where did you find that?” You asked pointing at the book.

“In the hallway.” He smirked, “Why do you care anyway?”

“Because it's mine.” You whispered causing his cheeks to flush.

“This is yours?” He asked surprise sewn into his voice.

“Yes.” you nodded, “I lost it when..” your voice trailed off face growing red, “after potions.” you finished voice quiet.

“You sure this is yours?” It came out harsher than Draco had intended but what could he do about it now?

“Yes.” you breathed out face growing warmer. “It does have drawings in it, doesn't it?”

“Well yeah but they are like, really good.” Only after he said it did he realise how it sounded. He instantly was filled with guilt as your face flashed with sadness and anger.

“Yeah, well, they’re mine.” You grumbled voice quiet.

“Here.” He handed the book to you, your hands brushed before you snatched the book away and he felt like he was going to burst at the feeling of your skin against his.

Just then the timer on your position went off and the two of you continued to work.

That's how it went for two weeks. You and Draco would share very few words as you worked together. Your grade did improve, but you were still quite prone to accidents and Draco rolled his eyes everytime. You went from being sad he didn't like you to being mad. He was always so rude. He would avoid speaking to you, looking at you, hell he avoided you altogether, his seat was always poised at the other end of the desk as if you were some sort of plague. All of this made you angry and frustrated. What have you done to make you so repulsive? You knew you weren't the best at potions but you had only messes up three the whole time and you were improving. You had never been rude to the boy even once, how come he hated you so much?

“I just don't get it.” You pouted turning to Casey who was walking you down to potions.

“It's not your fault y/n, he's like that with everyone.” He explained, “He's just a dick, not much you can do about it.”

“But maybe if I was better at potions the-” you were interrupted by Casey.

“Y/n its not your fault, you are amazing and sweet and kind, it's just him okay? Don't let him make you doubt yourself.”

You blushed furiously at his words, “Thanks Case.”

“Plus if he's really pissing you off just blow a potion up in his face.” he jeered.

You laughed loudly, “He'd probably kill me with his icy glare.” you teased.

“He is always glaring at you.” Casey smiled.

“Thanks for walking me.” You said.

“Of course, i’ll see you around y/n.” He beamed.

“See ya.” You said before entering the classroom. You were met with Draco's frozen glare.

“Hello Malfoy.” You greeted.

“Y/l/n” he responded his voice vacant of any emotion.

You sat down and glanced at the board to see what position you were working on. You then looked at Draco who was already looking at you making you blush.

“I'll get the water.” You said promptly before standing up and snatching a cauldron. Only when you did this you left foot got caught behind your right and you plummeted to the ground. You dropped the cauldron with a clang and you hit the ground. You instantly heard laughter erupted throughout the room and you felt tears well up in your eyes. You then heard a snicker and you didn't have to see his face to know it was Draco. You blinked furiously face a deep shade of crimson. You then pushed yourself off the ground, lifted the cauldron from a few feet away and turned to face the slytherin boy. Your shyness suddenly disappearing in your rage and embarrassment when you saw the everlasting smirk perched on his lips. You felt two tears cascade down your red cheeks as you thrust the cauldron into his hands.

“Screw you Malfoy.” your voice trembled through gritted teeth. You then quickly left the classroom, laughter disappearing behind you. You made it maybe two cordors from the classroom when you saw Mckenzie. You instantly turned to run but were cut off by a few other girls already behind you.

“God y/n, such a clutz.” She snickered. “I think you belong in a physical therapy building not a wizarding school.”

You only whimpered feeling helpless and small.

“Boo-hoo poor, poor, y/n all alone.” She rubbed her eyes with her fists.”You do realize that Casey only hangs out with you because of a dare right?”

Your eyes widened in confusion.

“I made a dare that he couldn't get you to go out with him in a month and here we are, only two weeks in and you are practically drooling over him.”

You felt a sob leave your mouth. You wanted to say it wasn’t true but you knew it was. It sure as hell wasn’t a coincidence he asked to help you find your book the exact day she said she struck the deal with him. You felt angry. Sad. But most of all embarassed. You were always so embarrassed. Why where you always so fucking embarassed?!

“Guess I'll have to go out with him now that I told you about the bet” She smirked picking at her long blue nails.

“Of course.” You muttered tears falling of your chin.

“What's that?” Mckenzie smirked.

“Of course he would want to go out with you.” You began to sob and you saw Mckenzie’s smirk widen and your anger out did you.

“Of course, some douchebag like him would want to date a slutty bitch like you.” Anger dripped like poison from your voice. All of the laughter around you stopped as you felt yourself smile. You looked up through your tears to see Mkenzies mouth wide open in shock, her eyes wide in her sockets.

Anger took over her features and she pulled her wand from her robes with a shriek. “Stupify!” she shouted and you were sent sprawling backward. Your head hit the stone wall and black dots danced in your vision. You groaned closing your eyes but they popped back open when you heard another voice.

“Back off!” it yelled anger knit into its frame. You turned to see Draco heading strait at the girls. He whipped his wand once and suddenly Meckenzi flew into the air. She then dangled there like an invisible rope was tied to her ankle.

She shrieked for the girls below her to help but they just turned and ran fearful of the boy heading toward them. After the other girls disappeared Draco flicked his wand again and Mckenzie fell to the ground and began to cry.

“Get out of here before I do more than hex you.” You heard him growl.

The girl instantly stood up sobbing as she stumbled away. Draco's eyes softened when they landed on you.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he rushed over to you.

“What do you care Malfoy?” you mumbled attempting to get up only to stumble over your own feet and plummet to the ground, well you would have hit the ground if it wasn't for a pair of strong arms wrapping around you. You looked up at the blonde, his grey eyes were set on your lips and felt your heartbeat speed up to extremely high. Draco's face was now quite red as he helped you back to your feet.

“Why do you hate me?” the question rose from your lips before you could stop it. You flushed immediately after it left your mouth. Draco looked taken aback by the question.

“I don't hate you.” he stated.

“Don't lie to me. You avoid looking at me, you don't speak to me, hell you sit as far away from me as possible.” You paused looking at the boy, “I just want to know why.”

He laughed he actually laughed. What could possibly be funny right now? Was this all another joke? Did he really find your misery that funny. You flushed madly turning to leave.

“No wait love, don't leave.” Draco begged his laughter stopping abruptly.

You felt heat rush to your face at the nickname and turned around looking at the ground. Your gaze was turned upward when you felt a finger slowly lift your face upward. You had never blushed so much in your entire life.

“I don't hate you y/n. I would never hate you.” He smiled, not his usual smirk but a genuine smile and it made you go weak at the knees. “I don't think I could ever hate you.”

“Then why do you act like you do?” you asked, “Why do you avoid me? Why do you never talk to me, never look at me?”

He sighed, “I avoid you because whenever I get near you, I smell you. And it drives me crazy.” His hand caressed your cheek bone and you were pretty sure you face was on fire. “Your scent is beyond intoxicating. When I talk to you I lose track of everything else and I can only hear your voice echoing in my head.” He whispered, his minty breath danced across your face making you shudder. “And when I look at you, it's like the world disappears and it's only you standing there. Everytime I look at you I have to battle myself not to lean in and taste your lips.”

You stared at him. You couldn't breath, your It had been replaced with butterflies that were now fluting inside you madly. You were pretty sure this is what death felt like. But then something clicked inside you and your realized this wasn't death it was love.

“When it comes to you, I can focus on nothing else.” Dracos lips were so close you could feel them brush yours and you couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed the back of his head and smashed his lips onto yours.

You had never felt anything like it before, his lips danced on yours with grace you couldn't even begin to fathom. You felt his tongue slid across your lips and your eyes widened in surprise. You then shut them again opening your mouth a slight bit. You ran your hand threw his hair as he explored your mouth with his tongue pushing you up against the wall softly. You didn't want to break the kiss but you felt your lungs burn begging for air and you drew away from him.

You were both panting when you pulled apart. Your face was a bright red, your lips swollen, and hair disheveled but to Draco, you had never looked more beautiful.

“Merlin,” he gasped out, “I'm never going to focus again when I know you kiss like that.”

You flashed a brilliant red and giggled, Draco then decided he couldn't stop himself anymore, he pressed his lips against yours once again.

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ickle-ronniekins · 5 years ago

Text

clarity, george x reader

hey guys! happy new year! it’s 2020, which is crazy, ‘cause wasn’t it just 2009 like a second ago? anywho, i’m sick with a cold and am working on requests (i promise!) but i recently discovered the whole soulmate au thing and i really wanna try it soooo...here’s hoping this isn’t terrible! i posted about it yesterday about the idea but i did change some things (i rewrote the end five different times i shit you not) also ps sorry this is hella long

prompt: soulmate au; everyone has a journal that allows them to write back and forth with their soulmate

A/N: so as i’m writing this it kind of reminds me of when harry wrote to tom riddle in CoS haha. anywho—i still want the reader to be a ~magical being~ so i do still want them to go to hogwarts (does that count as an au, then? WHATEVER, lol) however even though they can write back and forth with their soulmate, there’s this lingering restriction on soulmates revealing their identities because of the impending war and voldy and stupid fucking umbridge and all this stuff so they’re sworn to secrecy, not even names, not even hints, until one of them breaks

warning(s): mentions of war, blood, bodies, anxiety, not proofread

So sorry my writing’s been sporadic. Potions is dragging, love.

The words appeared very lightly, you almost didn’t catch them at first. Grinning giddily to yourself, you pulled your journal close to you so only you could see the fragile script in front of you. Potions. With Snape. You were just in Potions with Professor Snape. Is it possible that your soulmate had passed you by on your way out of the dungeons?

Well, of course it was. The castle was only so large, after all. It was proving rather difficult to keep your identity a secret.

You wanted to know who he was the second he first wrote you and made you blush. But, there were rules. Rules you both didn’t want to follow.

Is it four o’clock yet? He asked you now.

You grinned with excitement. Each time his handwriting appeared, it filled you with an overwhelming sense of closeness to him—since this, of course, was as close as you’d gotten.

The impending war put so much worry on your heart—for you, for him.

Biting your lip, you wrote back, I reckon Snape’s class isn’t going terribly well?

A quick response appeared. It’d certainly be better—if you were here.

You wanted nothing more than to know his name, hear his voice, be there with him.

The feast anxiously awaits your arrival, you wrote back cheekily, taking a sip of your pumpkin juice and watching as a cackle of students filtered into the Great Hall. Desperately, you searched the crowd for an inkling of him. There was none, of course. You had no bloody idea. Sighing greatly, you slumped back into your seat, poking at the food on your plate. How long could you possibly keep this going? Your soulmate didn’t really feel like one, especially when you didn’t even know his name.

Are you here, in the Great Hall? he wrote. I just walked in. C’mon, any type of sign that you’re here—at least tell me the color of your hair so I can eliminate some people—that isn’t too daring, now, is it?

How you wanted to. You wanted more than anything to tell him. But the worry that pulled at your heart—it was too much.

With utmost regret, you scribbled, You know we can’t, darling.

His response wasn’t exactly what you’d wanted. What you wanted, truthfully, was maybe for him to break—for him to finally reveal himself to you in a fit of fury, because he was so irrevocably in love with you that he just couldn’t stand it anymore. You could practically feel his sadness when, after a few painful minutes, he just answered, I know...

You looked around you, anxiously searching for some type of answer, but there was none. Many around you were scribbling quickly in notebooks in front of them. It was useless, really, to search for someone you barely knew in a sea full of people.

These restrictions are bloody ridiculous, he wrote one cozy, autumnal afternoon. He was frustrated. You could tell. The pressure of his quill marks and his messy handwriting showed you just how frustrated he was. It’s not fair that they’re keeping us from one another. It drives me bloody mad.

He had already left Hogwarts. Any hope you had of maybe locking eyes with him in the Great Hall and just knowing, deep down, that he was the one...those feelings of hope we’re gone. He was even further away now than you could imagine. You were no longer under the same roof.

In the common room next to the fire, you gripped the pages of your journal tightly. You knew how he felt, of course you did. I’m sick of it too, love... Your heart ached for him.

It seemed silly, but it was the truth. How were you supposed to feel about the man you were to spend the rest of your life with when you barely knew anything at all?

An idea of sorts came to him. You could almost feel his excitement and adrenaline rush. He answered, softer now, What if, instead of in writing, we just plan to meet...

His writing trailed off. You knew he recognized the danger of this idea, with every single slip of parchment and message being watched and intercepted.

I don’t care, you know. I don’t care what they do to me. As long as I can finally meet you.

Slowly, you flipped through the many pages of your journal, reading some of your conversations with him from the past years. It had proven extremely difficult to not give any hints about your identities over the years, so of course, you reread, every single day, the hints that he had given you.

He was one of many children. He was an inventor. He inherited his mum’s love for cooking and was a damn good one, if he did say so himself. He loved Hogwarts in the wintertime. His dad was overly fascinated with Muggles and their way of living. And he was funny—really funny, but he didn’t need to tell you that. He was always making you laugh.

You fed off of these five and only things for years. Years, they had sustained you, but right now, it wasn’t feeling like enough. Nothing felt like enough.

I want you to be safe, you told him. You need to be.

And then, you wrote again. Promise me that you are. Safe, I mean.

Your answers had been more sporadic and choppy and less long and interesting. He’d told you after he’d left Hogwarts that he’d been working on something, something to ease the pain of the impending war, something that he was excited about. The glimmer of those feelings kept you afloat in what felt like a world in which you were drowning slowly.

An answer came when you were asleep. I’m safe, darling. We had a long night. Promise me you’ll focus on your classes and graduating and keeping yourself safe and sound and I promise everything will be worth it.

All these years of writing and waiting and hoping seemed to be taking it’s toll on you both. There had been days where you hadn’t talked with one another at all, days where you didn’t even have the energy to pick up you quill and write a single thing. You barely had enough energy to discuss the news of you finishing school.

He told you one stormy night that he’d gotten hurt, that he’d lost one of his ears. In a moment of panic and worry, you’d written back as quickly as you could with questions you knew he couldn’t answer. What happened? Where are you? I’ll find you, let me come and help you.

A stern “no”, and then a softer, “I’m okay, I promise,”, had not helped your nerves at all. Things were getting worse. Voldemort’s army were taking out witches, wizards and Muggles alike, one by one, as the world you knew and loved was crumbling in pieces around you.

It was an awful feeling, knowing your soulmate was out somewhere in the world, hurting—in pain—and you couldn’t do anything at all to help him.

As the war worsened, your family was tortured for information. Death Eaters had stormed your home, questioning you on the whereabouts of Harry Potter, a boy just a year younger than you, a boy whom you went to school with—but you didn’t know. It didn’t matter, though. You were left with stinging burns, open wounds, broken ribs and gashes along your arms and legs.

It’d been exactly four days since you’d written your soulmate.

Please, love, let me know that you’re okay, he pleaded. You swore you could see tear drops next to the words he’d written. You told him swiftly, with all of the energy you could muster, that you were.

It seemed as though the sky had turned permanently dark gray. Storm clouds had swallowed the world whole. There was an eerie, cool wind that sent chills down your spine, and it was quiet—too quiet—the kind of quiet it is when it’s snowing outside. But this wasn’t the good kind.

Word had gotten to you that Hogwarts was under attack. The school you grew up in was being pummeled to the ground with those that you loved inside of it. He was there, he had to be there. Maybe, just maybe, in a moment of clarity, you’d find him somehow. You hadn’t thought once—you apparated almost immediately, the pull behind your naval nearly knocking the wind right out of you, but before you’d left, you wrote him one last thing. I’m going to Hogwarts. If we don’t survive...know that I love you. Salty tears escaped your eyes and landed on the pages of your journal.

You did, of course, even though you hadn’t met yet. Love him. You knew it deep in your heart. He was your soulmate, after all, even if you didn’t survive.

But the second before you apparated, you saw scribbly, messy handwriting on the journal placed delicately on your desk. It was so quick that you almost missed it, but you know you couldn’t have dreamt it. It was all too real. My name’s George Weasley—find me as quickly as you can.

Of course you knew him. He was one of the most well known people at Hogwarts when you were in school there. Heart thumping as you landed on your feet in the middle of the Great Hall, you noticed the blood, the bodies, the debris all around you. You swallowed over a lump in your throat. What would happen now that he revealed himself?

You’d been waiting years to hear his name.

Where was he?

And you saw him, hoisting himself on top of rubble, firing spells in every which direction, with his brothers next to him. A piece of debris slid against your cheek and left a stinging burn in it’s place. You touched your fingers to it gently, only to see some blood appear. You winced and fumbled over bodies and bricks and rubble.

He knocked a Death Eater over the edge of the bridge.

“George?”

He whirled around immediately—his face tired and his eyes bloodshot and sad. There were cuts and bruises all over his head, his red hair matted down by dirt, a large gash in his arm glistening with bright blood.

“It’s you,” his voice was hoarse and dry. He brought a hand to your cheek and wrapped it around the back of your neck. His hands absentmindedly made their way through your long, messy hair. His eyes were glassy. You tried to choke back your tears.

You placed your hands against his chest. “Finally.”

A moment of clarity hit when you realized that you’d met the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

“I love you, you know—” he said in a moment of panic, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

Everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, you were in a hospital of sorts—St. Mungo’s. Everything was still hazy. You rubbed your temples, head throbbing, and swallowed. Your throat was extremely dry. You reached for the glass of water on your beside table.

There was a news clipping there. Once your eyes adjusted to the light, you read slowly. There’d been a war a few months prior. Lord Voldemort was dead—he had died at Hogwarts. Wasn’t that the school you’d attended? You furrowed your brow.

Your memory was very fuzzy.

A red haired man walked slowly into the room with some sort of book in his hands.

Why did he look so familiar?

He stopped in his tracks when your eyes met his. Careful, so as not to scare you, he grinned lightly and said softly, “You’re awake.” There was a hitch in his voice.

He tried to tell you many things about your life. Your name, your age, where you went to school. What had happened during the war. That he was your soulmate. He mentioned something about journals and how he and you had communicated only through them for years. You couldn’t seem to understand. You wanted too, but you just...couldn’t. He didn’t really tell you anything about his life—just yours. Perhaps you needed to remember yours first. Having him near you gave you a sense of warmth, though.

“The doctors say she may not remember for a while, mate,” another man who looked exactly like him had whispered one afternoon. He patted his brother on the shoulder. “Maybe try and start from the beginning.”

The beginning. Had you forgotten everything from the beginning?

Panic rose in your chest.

Through a very frustrating conversation, trying to get you to remember anything at all, he reintroduced himself, as if to start new. “I’m George,” he told you.

George, you thought. Familiar. You smiled at him.

Everyday, he stayed by your side and watched as your memory seemed to improve, even slightly—bits and pieces coming back to you. You’d attended Hogwarts. Your father was a wizard, but mum was a Muggle. Your favorite class at school was Charms. But him—he was still hazy.

You could tell it was hurting him, but he’d never let on. Your heart ached.

“When did we meet?” You asked him one day, sitting up in bed and blowing on your hot soup.

He loved it when you asked him questions. “During the war, actually,” he told you. “It was only for a moment, though. Very fleeting, but very wonderful.” He smiled at you.

You grinned back at him, feeling a surge of familiarity enter your body. You reached out and placed your hand on top of his, squeezing lightly. You saw him swallow over a lump in his throat, his eyes yearning for you to remember.

And now?

You asked him, “Can I...can I read your journal?” It was the book he brought with him every single day.

Tears welled up in his eyes, he gently placed the book into your hands. “Of course you can.” He stood up and placed a kiss onto your forehead. “I’ll have a word with the doctors—I’ll be right back,”

When you were sure he was out of the room, you opened the pages. Some were ripped and tattered, but you could still read the passages and differentiate between your writing and his. I just can’t wait to spend my life with you. You’d said that. Your heart skipped a beat.

I hope you that when we finally meet, he’d written, I am going to kiss you and never stop. I know it sounds silly because we haven’t met, but I love you...more than anything in this world.

Your cheeks flushed red at the thought.

As you sat there in bed, imagining what it’d be like to press your lips to his, slowly biting your bottom lip, he sauntered back into you room and snapped you back into reality. You hadn’t noticed how wide you were smiling until he startled you.

You placed the journal gently on your bedside table and took to cooling off your soup again. George was busy tidying up around the hospital room. When you took a slow sip, it was as if your taste buds had been reawakened. “Bloody hell, this is delicious—where did you get it?”

George smiled gratefully at you. “I made it this morning,” he told you. And just like that. Clarity. “I love cooking, actually, nobody really knows that but I got it—”

“—from your mum,” you cut him off.

He stood at the other end of the room, peering at you.

“Yes,” he said.

It was like everything came back to you at once—the writing, the moment he revealed himself, the war, seeing him for the first time—it was everything. Your soulmate.

Smiling greatly, you continued. “And your dad, he—he loves Muggle things, doesn’t he? He’s fascinated by them, everything about them—and you’ve a lot of siblings, don’t you?” He’d sat down next to you and pulled your hands into his. “And you absolutely hated Potions class—” at this, he laughed through a sob. A feeling of bravery entered your body. “And you promised me that when we finally met, you’d kiss me and you’d never stop.” You inched closer to him. “Guess we never really got a chance, did we?”

With tears in his eyes, he gently caressed your cheek and glanced longingly from your eyes to your lips. With a tiny nod from you, he laughed into the kiss that was years in the making. You felt like you were reentering your body. He kissed your forehead, your jawline, your neck, your shoulders, your hands— “You remember,” he said quietly.

You let out a soft hum as you pulled him close again. He gave you the most genuine and heartwarming smile when you told him, “I could never forget the man I love. I just can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

tag list: drop me a message if you’d like to be added: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane

other tags: @toranyx @wolfwistleweasley @t1nycak3 @hyuangel @iluvharrypotter172

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated! :)

#george weasley #fred weasley #weasley twins #fred and george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley reader insert #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #georgexreader #bye

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les-mis-still-makes-me-cry · 5 years ago

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Lily Evans Definitely Has a Boyfriend Chapter 2

Enjoy! Chapter 1 is here

Every hour that passed seemed longer than the last. Lily was certain that Remus lived fairly close by, so she was on tenterhooks all afternoon, thinking at any moment Scarlett would flap back through the window. How long could one trip take?

Petunia asked Lily at dinner if she and her “boyfriend” (Lily could hear the quotation marks in her sneering voice) wanted to come to the dinner on Saturday, to which Lily replied that she was sure he would just LOVE to come, she’d just have to write to him and ask.

“Oh, how wonderful,” Petunia replied, sarcasm lacing every syllable. Lily quickly ran upstairs to pretend to write the letter, avoiding any further questioning about her secret relationship.

The sun was just setting when Scarlett returned. Lily raced to the window to catch her, frantically untying the thread attaching the letter to her leg. She started to open it, when she was distracted by Scarlett mercilessly nipping her finger.

“Ow, that hurts you daft- oh, I promised you a treat, didn’t I,” Lily realised. Scarlett hooted in affirmation, ceasing her assault when Lily laid out some of her favourite treats.

Lily quickly opened the letter and started scanning Remus’ neat handwriting.

Dear Lily,

My holiday was pretty standard until I received your letter, which I found highly entertaining. It’s probably not what you want to hear right now but this is possibly the funniest mess I’ve ever heard of you getting into, and that’s including that time you thought Slughorn was flirting with you. I’m still confused at how you supposedly hate your sister, yet want to spend days planning a wedding with her and her friends. You two make me glad I don’t have siblings.

I would love nothing more than to get involved and help you become a bridesmaid, however unfortunately for your plans, I can’t help you this Saturday. There’s a certain monthly engagement that I can’t cancel, as much as I would like to, and I’m sure you want to ensure your sister and her fiancé remain bite-free for their big day.

I hope you can find another actor to play the part, maybe Slughorn isn’t doing anything this weekend (one day I’ll maybe stop bringing that up, but it’s unlikely). Please do keep me in the loop and let me know how it all turns out.

Your friend,

Remus

P.S. Can I still claim on the grovelling some time? The boys have something planned for the first day back and we could really do with a blind eye being turned. Don’t ask me anything else, I’ve been sworn to secrecy (but it’s mostly harmless, I swear).

Lily sighed in frustration and flopped back onto her bed. Dammit. She hadn’t checked her lunar chart since the astronomy exam in June so she had no idea the full moon was so close. She felt a pang of guilt that she hadn’t thought to check, knowing how much it hurt Remus being reminded of his condition, and knowing that she was one of the few people in the world he trusted to keep it secret.

She’d heard speculation about it for years from Snape, of course, but he was so obsessed with making those boys seem evil she had just put it down to overactive imagination at first. Over time though, she began to see how his theories might line up with reality, noticing the regularity of Remus’ visits home and his exhausted demeanour surrounding them. The fundamental difference between Lily and Snape, however, was that Lily simply didn’t see how it was any of her business. Remus was an alright bloke with terrible taste in friends, and that was all she needed to know.

Lily hadn’t even meant to let Remus know that she had guessed what he was. They were just finishing rounds together one Wednesday night, heading back to the common room after shepherding a sleepwalking Ravenclaw back to her tower. Remus stretched and yawned, already looking a little pale despite Lily’s calculations that the full moon wasn’t until next week.

“What- day are we- patrolling- next week?” he managed to say through his yawn.

“Tuesday, but I can get Marcella to cover you if you won’t be up to it,” she said without thinking, taking off her jumper now she was safe in the warm common room rather than the draughty corridor. When she got it over her face and saw Remus’ stricken expression, she realised what she had just said.

“I mean, not that you wouldn’t be up to it, can’t think of any reason you wouldn’t be okay next Tuesday-” she started babbling, before Remus cut her off.

“Did Snape tell you? He swore to Dumbledore that he wouldn’t say anything,” Remus’ whisper seemed tiny in the empty common room. His face had gone white despite the red glow of the dying fire.

“No, no, I haven’t spoken to him in months and even when I did he never said anything concrete, I just realised that his theory sort of made sense,” Lily quickly replied. Remus stared at her for a long second, biting his lip. He seemed to be trying to figure something out something very complex.

“But you’re still happy to patrol with me and stuff? I don’t want to make you do anything if you’re not comfortable being around… what I am… and I know it’s a lot to ask to not tell anyone, but Dumbledo-” He was cut off by Lily throwing her arms around him.

“Don’t be an idiot, Remus, I’ve known for months and it hasn’t stopped me being your friend. I would never tell anyone.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Remus’ arms closed around her and held on tightly.

***

Lily smiled at the memory, before the sinking feeling hit again, realising that she was still date-less for Saturday night. Remus would have been so perfect as well, she mused. Shame there would be no way of convincing Tuney to change the date, since Lily suspected that would simply result in her losing any chance of being a bridesmaid.

She reread Remus’ letter, hoping for guidance on what to do next.

I hope you can find another actor to play the part…

Who could she possibly get? Obviously, any muggle boys she knew from primary school were out, Petunia already knew them all better than Lily did. All the other Prefects apart from Remus were fairly good friends, but even Lily admitted they were a bit too… reserved for this kind of venture (she stopped herself from using the word dull). She didn’t know any of the Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff boys in her year well enough, and the one Slytherin she knew all too well was absolutely not an option. So that left her with just…

Lily put her head in her hands, finally reaching the conclusion she had been trying to avoid. She knew exactly who would love to pretend to be her boyfriend for an evening, hell, he’d be happy to do it for the rest of the summer. And Merlin knew he would love a chance to pull a prank on someone new, deprived of new targets being stuck with just his family all summer. And, Lily thought begrudgingly, he did have a sort of charm about him that tended to make people like him even when they were determined not to, which Petunia most definitely was. And he wasn’t as appallingly arrogant as he had been a year ago. And he wasn’t the worst-looking bloke in the world, although Lily would never have admitted that unless Veritaserum was involved.

“Fine,” she groaned, reaching for another piece of parchment. Her quill hovered over the page, wondering how to start this thing.

Potter,

She immediately vanished the word with her wand. She was asking a huge favour, now was not the time for surnames.

Dear James,

She vanished that too. She couldn’t have him getting the wrong idea before they’d even begun.

Why was this so difficult? She wondered. In person she seemed to have no issue talking to Potter, or indeed coming up with ever more creative ways to decline his proposals (although she was out of practise on that one). It must be the subject matter throwing her off, Lily convinced herself. After all, how often does one ask a boy who fancies you – or at least did for a while – to pretend to be your boyfriend?

Come on, Lily, it’s just Potter, she admonished herself. Get a grip. Dipping her quill back into the ink, she began to quickly write.

James,

It’s Lily. I know I’m probably the last person you expect an owl from in the holidays but I’ve got myself into a little bit of a pickle, and I think you’re probably the only person who can help me get through it.

I told my sister I had a boyfriend so that I could be a bridesmaid in her wedding. It’s a really long story, but that’s the gist of it. The issue is that I currently don’t have a boyfriend to go with to the dinner on Saturday night for the whole bridal party, and without going to that dinner I have no hope of being a bridesmaid, or ever having any sort of friendship with my sister again.

I am NOT (Lily underlined this twice) asking you to be my boyfriend, just to be clear. What I am asking, stupid as it sounds, is if you want to use your flair for drama for a good cause for once, and pretend to be my boyfriend for the evening. If your Saturday night is free and you fancy playing a Muggle at a nice restaurant, send an owl back as soon as you can.

If you say no I’ll just have to tell my sister you got dragon pox and died tragically this Wednesday out of the blue, and I’ll grieve you accordingly, but know that you’ll watched like a hawk for all of next year (Remus mentioned a certain first-day-back prank that you would very much like kept quiet. I’m not saying I would spoil it, but McGonagall may be pointed in the right direction. Yes this is blackmail, but desperate times, Potter.)

Anxiously awaiting your owl,

Lily Evans

That ought to do it, she thought. She folded up the letter, wrote James’ name on the front, and took it over to Scarlett, who twittered indignantly at being sent out again so soon.

“I know, I know Scar, but this really is urgent. I’ll give you as many treats as you can eat as soon as you’re back, I swear,” Lily pleaded. Scarlett stopped trying to flap Lily away, which she took to mean begrudging acceptance, and tied the letter to her. “It’s for James Potter, I’m sure you can find him.”

Scarlett immediately soared out the window, trying to get back as soon as possible for those treats. Lily marvelled for the thousandth time at how incredible it was that owls could find people so easily, despite Lily having no clue where Potter lived at all.

James, she mentally reprimanded herself. If he was going to be her fake boyfriend, she should probably start with civility. She wondered if this was a good idea after all. Would she even be able to convince Petunia that she was in a relationship with a boy she had been repulsed by the presence of just a year ago? Would he even want to do this with her?

Lily needed something to distract herself from her doubts. She decided to go downstairs and make herself a cup of tea before she tried (in vain, she suspected) to get some sleep. Making her way to the top of the stairs, she groaned inwardly seeing light still coming from the kitchen below. Lily prayed it was her mother, not Petunia.

Thankfully it was her mum, finishing up the last of the dishes from dinner. Lily breathed a sigh of relief and switched the kettle on, picking up a tea towel to help dry off the stack of wet dishes.

“Thanks, love,” her mum smiled, hugging her as best she could without getting her soapy hands on her daughter. “I thought something was maybe wrong earlier, you left dinner quite sharpish.”

“Yeah, I was just…” Lily struggled to think of what to say next.

“Too eager to invite that boyfriend to dinner?” Lily’s mum elbowed her, a knowing look in her eye. Lily welcomed her mother’s excuse.

“Yeah, I’m not sure how long the owl will take to reach him, I’ve not sent him anything before now,” she said.

“Ah, I did think it must be a recent thing. I couldn’t believe you hadn’t told me about him yet!” said her mum reproachfully.

“Ah well, with all the end of year madness to write about I guess I just didn’t think. Plus it wasn’t really such an official thing, it just kind of… happened,” Lily babbled, wondering how little she could say to satisfy her mother. Luckily, her mum was a romantic at heart, and anything Lily said was enough to make her mum sigh happily.

“That’s always the best way, isn’t it,” her mum said dreamily as she absentmindedly scrubbed at a saucepan. “Sometimes they just sneak up on you, and before you know it you’re in love.”

“I’m not in love with James!” Lily squeaked, shocked at the very idea. She cringed at her mum’s next words.

“Ah, maybe not yet, but it’s early days yet, dear,” Lily’s mum smiled. “And his name’s James, is it? That’s a nice name.”

“Yeah he’s… a nice boy,” Lily ventured, hoping her mum wouldn’t notice the twinge of sarcasm in her voice.

“Well I can’t wait to meet him. And I’m so glad you and Petunia are going to have the wedding to bond over, it’ll be a nice change from the bickering.” Her mum finished washing up and started putting away the dried dishes. Lily rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, like me and Tuney won’t find something new to fight about there,” she muttered.

“You two don’t know how lucky you are,” her mum said wistfully. “I always wanted a sister to dress up with, and talk about boys with, and-”

“Help each other sneak out of the house with,” Lily finished the speech for her. “Honestly mum, it just sounds like you think Tuney and I haven’t given you enough trouble over the years, I can sneak out and drink if you really want. I’m still underage in the Muggle world, you know.”

Her mum laughed loudly. “Absolutely not, you cheeky girl. I should probably be grateful that you two never put your minds together like that, I’d lose all authority.”

“What authority?” Lily quipped, and her mum swatted her with the tea towel.

“Shut it, you,” she joked. Her face grew serious again as she took the last of the plates from Lily. “Really though Lil, promise me that you’ll do your best to get along with Petunia until the wedding? You only get married once, and you know how much your sister loves Vernon, I don’t want anything to put a damper on her special day.”

Immediately Lily thought of several choice remarks about Vernon and Petunia, but seeing the look on her mother’s face she realised now really wasn’t the time to play comedian.

“Of course I’ll try mum, I don’t want to ruin Petunia’s wedding. I’ll be the best bridesmaid ever,” she said with as much sincerity as she could muster. Her mum gave her a tight squeeze.

“Thank you so much love, you were always the mature one. Don’t tell her I said that,” she whispered into Lily’s hair. Lily stepped back and mimed zipping her lips, smiling back at her mother.

“Now off to bed you, you may be an adult in your world but under this roof you’re still my daughter,” her mum ordered, swatting her once more with the tea towel.

Lily dodged out of the way quickly, grinning as she poured out her cup of tea. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. She headed back upstairs, her mum following closely behind after turning out the kitchen light.

Still smiling, Lily sat down her bed and took a sip of tea, feeling it warm her up. She regretted that she couldn’t have chats with her mum like that more often, given that she was away so much of the year. Letter writing was okay, but writing always felt so impersonal, so detached from real life. It could never compare to being home with her. She was thrilled to be a witch, but leaving behind her mum every year was as hard as it was at eleven.

But that wasn’t for another month, she reminded herself, clearing the sad thoughts from her brain with another sip of tea. She glanced over to Scarlett’s empty cage, wondering how long it would take for her to return. It was a strange reality of Hogwarts life, she mused, that you could live with people the majority of the year and yet have very little idea of where they actually came from.

Despite her earlier doubts, the tea did in fact tire her out, and within half an hour she was sound asleep.

***

As soon as she woke the next morning her eyes went straight to the window, but Scarlett wasn’t there tapping to get in. She sighed, resigning herself to another day of anxious anticipation. She started to get dressed for the day, trying to prepare what she was going to reply to Potter when Scarlett returned. Would he say yes, she wondered? It had been a year since the last time he asked her out, and Lily knew several girls had tried to go to Hogsmeade with him throughout 6th year. Not that she paid attention to gossip, of course. She wasn’t interested in who Potter was dating, unless it meant that she was without a partner on Saturday night.

She was just heading downstairs for some breakfast when she heard a hoot from the front door. Lily frowned. Why wouldn’t Scarlett just go to her window like always? She tried to continue on to the kitchen but there was another hoot, louder this time.

This was weird behaviour for any owl, and Lily’s was always the model of good behaviour. Maybe she was hurt? Lily rushed to the door, not wanting Scarlett to suffer. She unlocked the front door, and opened it.

Looking down for an injured owl, she saw nothing but a pair of feet in brand new trainers. Her eyes travelled up, and there he was, his hand already buried in his messy black hair. Lily’s jaw dropped.

“Potter?” she croaked.

James smiled in a way he clearly thought was charming.

“Now, is that any way to greet your fake boyfriend?”

***

Chap 3

Thanks for reading! Future chapters uploaded to AO3 here and FFN here :)

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ahagia-sophia · 5 years ago

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Story Time

Vlog? Episode 1: A Man of Constant Sorrow

Hey guys, I’m Jacob. I’ve always wanted to do a sort of blog type thing. But, I could never figure out what I wanted to make it about, you know? I like history, mostly. But then again so does literally every white guy on the planet. [rambling] Not to say that my love of history is basic, or that anyone’s passions and interests are basic its just- Never mind, that’s not what we’re here for.

I had considered doing a history sort of thing, but I decided against it for various reasons. Sadly, I didn’t have any other passions that might be interesting to other people. At least, that’s what I thought. Until the other day when my friend was going on about how I was a central point in a lot of the stories he was telling his new girlfriend. Specifically, I was what he described as, ‘the unluckiest man on earth.’

And you know what? People love real stories. Stories of people having terrible no-good very bad times adventures. And buddy, I’ve gone on a few adventures. So, I figured I’d tell a story or two. Mostly because I really love telling stories, but also because I crave attention love entertaining people.

I have a few eye-catching stories, like; Getting Cornered In a Carpet Shop, Getting Robbed by a Rapist(?), Civil War Reenacting, The Rape Accusation, Accidentally Becoming A Harem Anime Protagonist, Being a Terrible Person, and others. But I thought I’d start with something relatively tame.

Jacob Utterly Fails and Gets Congratulated Publicly For It.

Okay so this one takes place in a small-town high school in 2015. Which should already set off some alarm bells for people who were in small-town high schools in 2015. It was senior year and I was the Battalion S-5 for our school’s Army JROTC branch. The S-5 was basically the media officer, and the place where you threw useless seniors who had stuck with the program for four years and hadn’t done anything that could get them thrown out. Which was me. I was seniors.

I was the pale skinny white kid in high school who had charisma, but was too angsty to use it, you know? I didn’t have any real self-confidence; I would flinch if someone threw a ball toward me while playing Sport. I listened to metal and Irish folk music. I spent all my time playing video games with my friends and actively pretending that the future didn’t exist.

Here I am, in all my glory

Not much has changed.

Anyway, these qualities did not lend themselves to what was essentially a military recruitment program. What I did have going for me was an intense need to please authority figures and a slightly above average mind.

To fully demonstrate my inadequacy, allow me to take you back in time to the distant year of 2011 and lay out how I could not master walking.

This is not a joke.

One of the key components of JROTC is walking in straight lines in various directions and formations. This practice was called Drill. Drill cover such intense concepts as, ‘turn while standing still’ and, ‘turn while moving.’ These advanced maneuvers were, however, based on one simple principle. Walking. Specifically, the advanced form of walking referred to by professionals as, ‘walking without stepping on other people’s feet.’ Or, more concisely, ‘walking in step.’

I was utterly unable to do this. Just completely, totally, categorically unable to do this. Even with such helpful aids as a person walking next to me actively telling me which foot should be hitting the ground. I just could not do it. I would walk in step for a few paces and then immediately fall out of step and have to perform what is called a ‘change step’ which I interpreted at the time as kicking yourself in the back of the heel in order to skip and land back on the correct step. In hindsight I was probably supposed to just drag the heel of my foot. There’s an allegory in there somewhere.

So, I couldn’t master walking. This has been established. This has been abundantly established. And it had been established at the time too. Everyone knew that my drill scores were terrible. Everyone knew that I was very unable to walk. However, I aced the academic side of things, and managed to get my shit together enough to pass the Walking Final with a solid B+, which in retrospect was absolutely a pity grade from the students who were grading the final. My legacy of mediocrity was secured, and I advanced on to the next year.

I was given the coveted position of Assistant Squad Leader and the enviable rank of Cadet Sergeant. What this meant was that everyone acknowledged my lack of ability on the drill pad and also the fact that this wasn’t the real military and they couldn’t drum me out for gross incompetence. Very quickly, however, everyone came to realize that despite having absolutely no actual responsibilities, I was failing terribly in my task of ‘Be the guy at the front of the line while we walk.’ For all of the above-mentioned reasons.

This began my career as what soldierly-types would call ‘regimental bitch.’ I worked exclusively inside. I wrote memos for the Officers (read: upperclassmen), I did numbers for fundraisers, I made lists of names and T-shirt sizes, and generally fucked about in my new walking free paradise. For an entire school year, I was behind the scenes, only going outside for Inspection on Thursday’s.

This, of course, meant the everyone had forgotten that I no ability with the ordered walking. And what little ability I might have possessed had absolutely gone to rust as I spent the year (or two, my memory is hazy) hiding from the sun. (This was in Louisiana, so hiding from the sun was not as shameful as it could have been.) Logically, therefore, the higher up types decided that on one of the last drill days of the year good old Jacob should take the reins and march the assembled company (Class, about 30 people) in a straight line, a turn, and then another straight line.

Sub Story: How I Caused a 30-Person Pile Up, Literally

Pretty much what the title says, really. I was given command of the company. I said ‘Forward, March!’ and everyone started to walk forward. A result which I was completely unprepared for. They started walking, you know, at the pace the people walking in, like, a bit of a hurry would walk. Which was entirely too fast for me.

They walked far too fast. So fast that by the time they had reached the point where I was supposed to tell them to turn, I had completely lost the plot. And the front rank, in one of those moments of blind obedience that you can never recreate when you need blind obedience, walked directly into a brick wall. And then the rank behind them, and the rank behind them, and the rank behind them.

It was a slow-motion pile of human idiocy with me as its conductor. In that moment I could almost hear the the universe stand proudly from her director’s chair and loudly call, ‘Scene!’

I was never given command again.

Sub Story: A Principal’s Principles

Alright, its 2015 or so at this point. I’ve skulked my way up to Cadet Captain and a position of theoretical importance. It’s Veterans Day. I have to do exactly two things. Read a script and put people’s names on chairs. I’ve got this. There’s no possible way I could fuck this up, right?

Did you know that there are two different spellings for the word Principal? I sure didn’t. I was given a very sudden and unforgettable lesson when First Sergeant (one of the two JROTC instructors) burst into the office with my sins printed on paper and asked me if I had passed 3rd Grade spelling. (Which I had, but only because I cheated.) Picture a 6-foot-tall, well-muscled, angry veteran yelling at a pale white kid who flinched when stuff fell off the table. It is not a lesson that will ever leave my mind.

Thankfully, my spelling error was corrected before anyone important could see it. Crisis averted. Now I just had to deliver a speech about a table set for a soldier or something. I was literate, it didn’t have to be fantastic. There’s no way I could fuck this up, right? Well, two things. I had rehearsed this speech, but I had only rehearsed this speech alone with the script. Not with anyone who knew how the speech was supposed to sound. So, they dim the lights, the spotlight falls on the table in the center of the gym, and I read my speech. I gave a damn good speech. It was rousing, it was passionate, and I’m pretty sure I got genuine applause at the end of it.

However.

I stepped down from the podium, awash in the afterglow of a Genuine Success, when First Sergeant pulled me aside and in a very forced whisper informed me that this was supposed to be a somber speech given in mourning for those who would never come home.

Fuck.

It is a common theme in my life that if I do something really well, I have invariably done it wrong. This is a phenomenon that I first noticed in second grade when I proudly presented my beautiful handwriting (I normally have terrible handwriting) to the teacher only to be informed that I had spelled the word wrong.

Now whenever my handwriting looks particularly good, I double check all my spelling.

It was around this time that it was unilaterally decided (without my consent) that Jacob would never be put in charge of anything ever again. Which was something that was honestly a long time coming. But still hurt when I was informed.

It hurt my pride so much that I fought it. I fought it hard. I demanded, in no uncertain terms, that I should be in charge of the Very Big and Important Slideshow at the banquet that we hold at the end of the year.

Jacob Utterly Fails and Gets Congratulated Publicly For It.

This was no normal end of the year banquet. These were not your average cold beans and dry chicken. Oh no. I cannot fail during such a mundane affair. This was the year that Colonel, a much beloved man who had held the program together through sheer competence and wisdom, was retiring. This was his last banquet. This was his send off, the blow out, the thank you for all of his years of service and sage advice.

This meant that graduates of the program were coming in from across the country to send off their beloved father figure. And, on top of that, this banquet hadn’t really deviated from its standard form in the past few years. So absolutely everyone knew how this was going to go.

Food, Slideshow, Speeches, Send-off.

This is how the banquet had gone since like 2004. Perhaps earlier, I don’t really know.

I was, as a result of my own arguing and everyone else’s poor judgement, solely in charge of The Slideshow. You know, 1/4 of the entire evening was entirely at my mercy.

Two weeks before the big event I put together my slideshow. I spend hours on the stupid thing. I comb the picture archives from each of the ‘Companies’ and make sure that absolutely everyone appears in the slideshow at least once. Then I go through all the old photo albums and scan in a bunch of pictures of Young Colonel and stuff. To really just nail it, you know?

If you can see where this is going, kudos, because I somehow missed all the signs.

One week before the event I submit my flash drive to First Sergeant to make sure that everything checks out. He gives me some corrections and sends it back. I make the corrections and save it all on the flash drive.

I save it all on the flash drive and only on the flash drive.

Yeah.

The flash drive, as is the way of things, dies. Can’t access the files. Can’t open the power-point, can’t do anything. I spend a solid day trying to unfuck this situation before I admit defeat and tell everyone what’s happened. At this point we’re two or so days out from the banquet and there simply isn’t enough time to make a new one. The slideshow is cut from the evening, and literally every single senior wants to hang me by my guts. Which was fair.

We come to the night of the event, it goes pretty smoothly. I think that maybe I can just slide by and no one will ask questions about the mysteriously absent slideshow.

Boy was I wrong.

In front of all the graduating seniors a few of the returning cadets (probably in their mid/late 20s) publicly praise me for having the clout and balls to cut the slideshow out of the formula. As they had never liked it and thought it was a massive drag on the evening.

I’m pretty sure I’m still living under some of the curses that the other seniors hurled at me over that.

That’s it. That’s the story.

No one chewed me out, no one came to afterward to tell me what a useless idiot I was. No one said anything.

Which was probably the worst part. My general incompetence had become such a common feature in the JROTC program that everyone who actually knew what happened was just. Totally unsurprised.

#JROTC #High School #Blog #Vlog script #maybe

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soveryanon · 5 years ago

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Reviewing time for MAG156 /X_X/*

- I can’t believe that Simon was actually (not) foreshadowing this statement:

(MAG151) SIMON: I’d say “anytime”, but honestly, if you see me again… I may just throw you off something for a joke. How do you feel about… rollercoasters? MARTIN: Uh… Neutral. SIMON: Oh… [CHAIR SCRAPING] You’re no fun.

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “This was all too much for our witness, who had decided that whatever was going on in this place, he wanted no part of it. But as he turned to look for a way out, there was a sound that cut through the background din of the park: it was a scream from the rollercoaster, but not the joyful cry of adrenaline and mock terror, but a dreadful, piercing wail flying through the air. It seemed one of the riders, unable to properly benefit from the safety bar, had been thrown from the car at the height of a loop, and was sailing through the air, landing on the unforgiving ground of the main avenue with a horrendous crunch.”

(It’s like “rollercoasters” became part of Jonny’s imagery book in recent episodes only – there was this episode, there was Simon, and there was also Annabelle: “But by then, you’re away: the roller coaster is dropping and you’ve no real choice but to hold on and hope that… I don’t crash you.” (MAG147) We didn’t really have any before that!)

(I got Roller Coaster Tycoon flashbacks – you could get accidents so easily in your rollercoasters with badly controlled velocity, you could trap your visitors forever, they could be miserable, you could bury them in never-ending holes, they could drown… How come, except for this statement and The Stanger’s circus, the entities haven’t really banked on theme parks to get their hands on many unsuspecting people?)

- HEY, that’s so cool:

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “It’s a little too out-of-the-way to be a common destination for teenage delinquency, but has become, I’m told, quite popular with what could be described as “rural urban exploration” groups. Apparently, the lack of – well – actual urban areas to explore means that locations such as this? Become quite a draw for those in the area with an interest in abandoned places. And of course, its rather forbidding appearance, after ten years of decay, has led a few ghost hunters out that way as well; though I’m not aware of any specific tragedies or stories about it that would give them much to go on.”

I don’t even need Tim to be mentioned to feel Sad About Tim. (=> spontaneous feeling since “urbex” was mentioned.)

- Updated chronology of Adelard’s letters regarding The Extinction:

* MAG134: Statement of Adelard Dekker, taken from a letter to Gertrude Robinson dated 22nd January, 2006. * MAG156: Statement of Adelard Dekker, taken from a letter to Gertrude Robinson dated 4th January, 2009. * MAG144: Statement of Gary Boylan, given October 3rd, 2009. * MAG113: Statement of Adelard Dekker. Statement undated, likely circa 2012. * MAG149: Statement of Judith O’Neill, given May 13th, 2013.

Adelard was a biiit less affirmative and dead-set on the existence of The Extinction in this one – he did mention that Gertrude wasn’t absolutely convinced, and the statements&letters he sent her way were precisely supposed to back-up his theory:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “I am now certain my theory is correct: there is something new emerging. A fifteenth Power. I didn’t want to believe it either, not at first, but I was alerted a few months ago to the case of a woman named Bernadette Delcour. […] Now I know what you’re going to say, Gertrude: odd doors are signs of The Spiral, empty worlds tend towards The Lonely, and eschatology is almost literally the study of The End. But this is different. I feel it. This Fear is new. This is a fear of extinction. Of change. […] I know you don’t credit my theories, and I’m sure you’ll have plenty to say on this one, but I’m going to need your help with this at some point – I’m sure of it. […] I’ll keep searching for evidence, trying to find… instances and manifestations of The Extinction. I’ll keep you updated.”

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “I’d be inclined to chalk this up as a genuine Extinction manifestation. But I don’t know. Am I drawing wild conclusions, trying to fit the account into my own preconceptions? Keen to know your feelings on the matter.”

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “I was pursuing my researches into the new emergence I mentioned earlier. I know you are dismissive of the possibility, but if I’m right, the sudden urgency of these “immediate dangers” you are so focused on could very well be a direct result. But that’s for another day, as this particular instance turned out to be unconnected.”

(MAG149) MARTIN: There’s… hum, a, a note here as well. [PAPER RUSTLING] Looks like Gertrude’s handwriting? Start of a letter to… Dekker, thanking him for sending Judith to her, though… it doesn’t look like it was ever finished or sent. [PAPER RUSTLING] “I assume this is another one he was trying to use to prove The Extinction? It… certainly has something in it. Mankind’s trash giving rise to something terrible. And again, fear of the other, inanimate humanoid figures. That’s all very… Stranger, isn’t it?”

Had Gertrude managed to temper him a bit, at first, after his initial conviction that there was a new Fear? Given the 2013 statement, what he found later was proof enough for him, at least.

- It’s cool that, thanks to the dates and the mention from Adelard, we can fit this letter in the broader scheme of Gertrude’s own actions:

(MAG130) GERTRUDE: Gertrude Robinson recording. December 19th, 2008. … In your own time. LUCIA: Right, okay. So. Hum. I was on holiday, actually. […] When a deal came up in the middle of October, the five days in Istanbul, I jumped on it. […] GERTRUDE: Dekker really came through with the explosives! It almost felt like cheating. Sad about the loss of history but Miss Wright didn’t seem to think the old Gnostic church got many visitors anyway.

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “Gertrude, I wanted your opinion on an encounter I’ve had described to me recently, and given your recent dealing with Viscera, I would very much value your input. Good job on that, by the way; I’m sure the gnostic temple was a great loss culturally speaking, but I can’t help but admire your directness when it comes to dealing with this sort of thing. I often find myself locked in a bit of an esoteric paralysis about how to proceed.”

(Could have just been “viscera” as the English noun, but given how he had called The End “Terminus” in MAG113, I think it was “Viscera” for The Flesh itself, and that he tends to favour Latin names?)

That statement was sent shortly after stopping The Flesh, then! I’m a bit curious because, from what Gertrude had said, I had got the feeling that Adelard had been present on the scene and had been the one to activate the explosives, although Gertrude herself was there in the flesh (ha):

(MAG130) LUCIA: It was barely more than a ruin. More than that, I seemed to be almost entirely alone. There’d been an old woman coming out of it when I arrived but… I hadn’t seen anyone apart from her. […] GERTRUDE: Well…! That – is – a relief. When I heard there’d been survivors of “The Last Feast”, I was rather concerned that one of them might be able to positively identify me, [CHUCKLE] which could land me in all sorts of trouble! But she doesn’t seem to remember me at all.

But it seems like Adelard wasn’t really involved in person… Did he really just supply the explosives and/or manage to get his hands on some because Gertrude has specifically asked? With what they both said, I couldn’t help but entertain the thought that they were both congratulating each other for… something a third party actually did, without either of them realising.

(If it wasn’t for Adelard’s quick comment in MAG134 (“Sorry I can’t be there in person to go over all this with you.”), I would still doubt that Adelard and Gertrude ever met each other face-to-face. It sounds like they were penpals, but kept a lot of distance – was it a way to try to avoid The Eye’s surveillance? I’m fearing a bit that Adelard will turn out to be yet another deceptive figure ;; Well. At the very least, he was a bit old, or at least had grey hair already in 2001 (MAG078: “his short hair was iron grey”), and Eric did point out that people who manage to get old in this business tend to, uh… not be the Greatest People Around.)

- So, were the teeth marks around the mirrors there because the park’s attendees could see through to the other side, and were really craving some of that (our) meat…?

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “Everything seemed more or less maintained, with paint that was old and starting to peel, but a long way from the bare, rotten wood it had been before. The only thing in worse condition were the mirrors themselves, the frames of which were now pocked with tiny, irregular indentations all the way round. It would be some time before the idea would come to him that they were teeth marks.”

Adelard pointed out that he had been reminded of Flesh with this one, and, indeed, there was the overall idea that “meat is me(at)” in the random outburst of cannibalism as soon as an opportunity arose – that part made me think of The Slaughter a bit (because… they were coexisting beforehand? It was a plain amusement park, with a few oddities), though I mostly got a Stranger vibe all through it (because of the fact that it was the familiar made unfamiliar, that these people were not-quite-people but meant harm anyway, and an overall wrongness to the whole experience).

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “There were people striding down the main avenue, past the well-lit booths trying to entice them with coconut throws and hoop games. The rollercoaster rattled along in the background, the faint screams of its riders drifting over the crowds below. For a few seconds, it seemed almost legitimately joyful. But as he watched, a certain wrongness began to become clear – meaningless details, if they were confined to a single punter, but all the park-goers seemed the same. […] A sudden silence fell over the place. The rides still whirred and rang and jangled, but every person there had gone completely still, their eyes locked on the mangled mess of broken limbs and shattered bone. It was the carnie that went first, vaulting over the side of the coconut shy with an unexpected agility. Then, it was as if a dam had broken, and every half-wasted figure descended on the twisted corpse. […] He tells me he was suddenly very aware of just how much flesh was on his body. […] So: what are your thoughts? I’m keen to hear your own interpretation of this account. My first assumption would have been The Flesh, based on the cannibalism and strangeness of the bodies involved, but… something about this idea of some sort of “famine world”, its location within a made-man ruin, the whole… societal aspect of it… I’d be inclined to chalk this up as a genuine Extinction manifestation. But I don’t know. Am I drawing wild conclusions, trying to fit the account into my own preconceptions? Keen to know your feelings on the matter.”

I’m glad that Adelard expressed a few doubts about his methodology regarding The Extinction, the fact that he’s not quite sure it’s actually a thing and not his own fantasies slapped on “usual” Fears-stuff, because I’m really getting this feeling too? At the same time, we know that the classifications have always been arbitrary, and Jon still might have provided the best summary (MAG111: “An infinite amorphous blob of terror bleeding out in every direction at once.”) – so The Extinction is a thing and is not a thing at the same time, it would always be impossible to perfectly nail it down and put it in a box?

The exploitable data is mostly the reoccurrences in the statements Adelard felt were Extinction:

* Appearing in abandoned places, or (man-made) places that have lost their purposes: Garland Hillier’s flat, which had been forgotten by history (MAG134); the old Bright Lake amusement park (MAG156); Gary Boylan’s emptied rural land in the countryside (MAG144). The only exception would be Judith O’Neill’s statement in the Amazonian forest (MAG149), though it shares the fact that it was isolated and not visited (it actually sounded like the reverse, a man-made-ish thing contaminating another place?).

* It’s never a solitary monster, but always multiple creatures that seem indistinctive.

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “But honestly, trying to get a description of these… things, these “Inheritors” from Bernadette Delcour made me wish I could just pull the image from her lips, like you would have been able to. In the end, she would say nothing of them, except that [STATIC]: “There is nothing done in the history of humanity that deserves the things that come after us.””

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “There were people striding down the main avenue […]. all the park-goers seemed the same. The first was how baggy their clothes were: it almost seemed as though everyone was wearing some sort of oversized novelty t-shirt. But it was the same with the shirts, jackets, dresses – until it became apparent that it was not the clothes that were too big, but the wearers who were too small. Their limbs were painfully thin to look at, their flesh stretched tight over jutting bones, and the fabric hung off them like great flaps of skin. The hair on each head was thin, and wispy, often missing in great chunks, and their eyes were sunken so hollow that from a distance, they seemed almost empty.”

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “There are terrible things coming. Things that if we knew of them, would leave us weak, and trembling, with shuddering terror at the knowledge that they are coming for all of us. We all made them, and their course is already plotted. You can see them in the numbers. If you’d only learn how to read them.”

(MAG149, Judith O’Neill) “There were no people in there, but… that’s not the same thing as it being empty. Instead, there were… figures. From a distance, they looked like human beings, standing impossibly still. But getting closer… quickly revealed the lie. It was just the rough shapes, cobbled together out of a hundred different pieces of garbage: a broken metal clotheshorse for a ribcage; a… plastic chair leg for an arm; rusted screws for teeth. In some cases, it looked like someone had gone through a lot of effort to match anatomy with construction. I saw one with a broken water-cooler where its stomach would be, and another had a pair of oxygen tanks standing in for lungs. They were completely still, but there was something about them that made my mouth dry up, and my mind scream to run. [STATIC] It didn’t feel like they were statues. It felt like they were choosing not to move.”

* People who had an encounter were trespassers who… were thrown into another “world” at a distinct moment, and had to go back the same way. Exception would be Gary Boylan, who apparently received a message without crossing the line – but the message was performative and harmed his community?

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “She turned to leave and that, she says, is when she started to get the sense that something was wrong. The door had been damaged by the builders who uncovered the place, and there were several distinct gaps in the wood. But as she walked back out, the door appeared to be whole. She ignored it, and left anyways, trying to reason it all as a strange quirk of memory. Just one of those things. Unfortunately for her, it was not the only thing that had changed. The walls of the stairwell were discoloured, as though covered with a dusting of some… faint yellowish dirt, and the stone steps were ever so slightly sticky beneath her shoes. There was no sound, no sign of life other than the squeaking of leather as she descended, trying desperately to convince herself that nothing was wrong; that it had been just as quiet on the way up; that this building had always had a thick, humid feeling to the air. […] Remembering Hillier’s words about the door, she had just enough time to retreat back to the apartment and barricade herself inside. Then, she waited until the entrance changed again, and she could emerge back into the world she remembered. At least, that’s my interpretation of events.”

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “It was the third mirror that did it. The one that expanded him into a short, squat reflection caused no problems; neither did the one that bent him out of shape. But the third mirror, the one that squeezed him, made him thin, and gaunt… that was the one which took him. He outright refused to tell me exactly how he was pulled through it, but by the look in his eyes, I have no doubt it was a powerfully unpleasant experience – so much so that he claims to have lost consciousness. […] He then took what I consider to be his only sensible action in the entire affair: rather than running straight to the mirror which distorted him into a thin, angular figure, he took a moment to look at each one, and one of them showed no reflection at all. His next action of running full-pelt into it was perhaps less inspired, but it does seem to have been effective, since when he regained consciousness, covered in blood and broken glass, he was once again in the silent darkness of the abandoned Bright Lake amusement park he had made the unwise decision to break into.”

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “I was passing by an old cheap metal barn when I heard it. I’d been listening to music as I walked, when my iPod abruptly cut out. I stopped where I was, and took it out of my pocket, assuming I’d knocked it or somehow turned it off. But the screen was on, apparently playing music, though I didn’t immediately recognise the song. I got a pretty sizeable music collection, but I feel like I do know it pretty well. This one had no artist, no album, just the track name: “Numbers”. […] I ran as fast as I could to the pylon, that ruined place that knew all of the numbers, and I fell to my knees and wept. I begged it to spare us, to spare me, as I stared at the flesh I knew would redden, and bubble, and blister away to the bone beneath. I didn’t need headphones to hear the numbers now. They were pouring from the air around me and threaded through my mind, and no matter how I begged, they would not stop.”

(MAG149, Judith O’Neill) “He shifted his leg, trying to keep his footing, but slipped on the now muddy ground, falling and pulling me with him. I instinctively grabbed Fernanda for support, but ended up pulling her down as well, the three of us tumbling down a short and muddy decline and landing hard in the foliage. It took a few moments to pull ourselves together. It wasn’t a huge fall? But I felt strangely disorientated as I clambered to my feet, shaking my head in an attempt to dispel some of the… mm, fuzziness, that had settled over it. The others clearly felt it too, although… checking ourselves over, it seemed we’d been lucky: all we had broken was our equipment. Although Dr. Anastas whined about that almost as much as if it had been a bone. I tried to get my bearings, but… even though we’d only moved a few meters laterally at most, I was finding it really hard to get a solid idea on where we were. I couldn’t figure out exactly which way we had come, and… I couldn’t get a clear read on the sun through the canopy and clouds. Fernanda wasn’t having any better luck with the compasses, as they were either broken, or something magnetic in the area was messing with them. They just generally span around and around. […] That was when I noticed how quiet it was. Aside from the rain, the jungle cacophony had… simply stopped. […] I don’t know how long we ran, but it was hours before we felt even remotely safe. The jungle looked normal again and, more importantly, it sounded normal.”

* The things from the other side marked the people who had escaped, and might be coming through our world because of them?

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “I may try to interview her again later, though I have my suspicions she may find herself disappearing. She has that… quality about her, I’m sure you know what I mean, o–of an unfinished meal. And I can only hope that when the second course starts, she can remember her way back to Garland Hillier’s apartment once more. But of course, the evidence suggests that, in the end, even he wasn’t able to.”

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “He told me, near the end, that he had recently been worried he was being followed. He keeps catching glimpses of a thin figure in the distance, or disappearing around a corner, and I can’t quite get past the detail that there was no reflection at all in the mirror he used to return. If my suspicions are correct, there’s little either of us could do for him; but do take care, should you make contact.”

Peter also insisted that The Extinction would be coming through from a particular point (“where”):

(MAG156) PETER: Well. There’s something at the centre, a… let’s call it a “device”. Now – our biggest problem with The Extinction is lack of information. We know it’s emerging, but we don’t know how, or where. MARTIN: And this… “device” will help. PETER: Yes…!

… and I’m a bit surprised by that because, so far, the only case of Fears coming through a specific space was during rituals carried out by their servants? So, The Extinction’s birth should require servants in the first place, and that should be the focus? Or are Fears actually tied to spaces and places, as Smirke used to believe? Yes, the Powers have strongholds, but those were created by avatars (and the Fears people felt, such as with the taxidermy shop) – so how could The Extinction come through at a singular, located point…? (Or is Peter absolutely wrong? Or is there a human-made punctual catastrophe approaching in their world, and that would be The Extinction’s cue to sneak in? Once again, Peter: where did you get the info and your theories about The Extinction being “active” and trying to annihilate the world, when the only statements Martin read were these ones…)

- I’m once again reminded of the Not!Them in the way “something” was pursuing Adelard’s statement-giver:

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “Oh – one more thing: if you do try to follow up with my source – and I know you have your own ways of finding him should you wish – please be careful. He told me, near the end, that he had recently been worried he was being followed. He keeps catching glimpses of a thin figure in the distance, or disappearing around a corner, and I can’t quite get past the detail that there was no reflection at all in the mirror he used to return. If my suspicions are correct, there’s little either of us could do for him; but do take care, should you make contact.”

And it’s still interesting to me that Adelard had been the one to bind the Not!Them to the table prior to his research about Extinction? The way The Extinction had been described in MAG134 had already reminded me a bit of the Not!Them:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “This Fear is new. This is a fear of extinction. Of change. It used to be part of The End, perhaps, when The End of humanity was to be the end of all things; but now, the fear is not of a rapture or a revelation; it is of catastrophic change. A change in our world that will wipe out what it means to be “us”, and leave something else in its place.” […] PETER: The Extinction is… different. It’s active. It will seek to create a lifeless world, in a way that none of the other Powers ever would. Some interpretations suggest it might replace us with something new, that can then fear annihilation in turn. But I and those like me would rather that did not happen.

Although Not!Sasha admitted to being a creature from The Stranger (MAG079: “Once upon a time there was a monster, but no one realised. Sometimes someone did and then they were scared, so that was good. […] So the monster got its friends to carry the table all around, and it still got to take faces and scare people.”) – it specifically fed on the Fears of people noticing that someone they knew was now a stranger. And I still can’t help but feel like maybe Adelard was right on a new Fear emerging, but off in his description of it, of what it does and what it feeds from, mostly because his past experiences were colouring his interpretation…?

(Adelard acknowledged it could be the case in this episode, which, nice! But is it supposed to joss the idea that he could have been wrong, or precisely to introduce the idea that he was…)

- … I kinda hope that Adelard is not dead because the SOLIDARITY with Jon…

(MAG076) MELANIE: I was actually a meme for a day or two. … You… do know what that is, don’t you? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I know what a meme is. You were saying?

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “My young friend was specifically intending to use it as the site of a party they were planning to throw. Based on his description, I would have called it a “rave” but when I said so, he looked at me like I didn’t understand what he was talking about. […] He was very interested in the hall of mirrors. According to him, if it was still in good shape, it would have been an amazing place to put on a light show, and let his guests dance their way through the maze. Sounds like a good way to get injured to me, but apparently I used the word “rave” wrong, so what do I know.”

(Ahahaha, 36th episode of a season in both cases.)

I’m so glad that Martin got to read this statement because his voice can get SO nasal and petty in these occasions, and it was Beautiful.

(What was the thing, if not a “rave”, though? Was the guy only squinting because he wasn’t expecting Adelard to use the word? Because uh, if not a rave, what was it supposed to be? An orgy?)

- Confirmed by Word Of Jonny that that mention was indeed there to be heard as Adelard being religious and !!

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “I often find myself locked in a bit of an esoteric paralysis about how to proceed. Still. God grant me clarity to act when I need it.”

(MAG078, Lawrence Moore) “He was black, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a thin necktie. For a moment I had the idea he might be a Jehovah’s Witness, but one look at his face dispelled that idea immediately. It was hard and stern, set in look of determination, and his short hair was iron grey. He was very thin, with aging skin stretched tight over wiry, corded muscle, and though he was slightly shorter than I was, it seemed like he towered over me. […] He told me his name was Adelard Dekker, and that he was an exorcist, of sorts.”

So maybe he didn’t just look like a Jehovah’s witness, but genuinely is one? Also aouch about the gnostic temple then:

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “Good job on that, by the way; I’m sure the gnostic temple was a great loss culturally speaking, but I can’t help but admire your directness when it comes to dealing with this sort of thing.”

Because I can’t tell if he was throwing shade at Gertrude about it and the fact she had destroyed a precious religious place… or was absolutely uncaring about it because it wasn’t his own religion.

- I feel like, as in with Eric’s accusations, Adelard was a biiiiiiiiit harsh (and fair) about Gertrude actually being way more Eye-aligned that we had been led to think in season 3?

(MAG154) ERIC: She didn’t try to keep me in the dark just so I wouldn’t stop being useful. She never made me complicit in a thousand nightmares, and lives ruined for the sick joy of some otherworldly voyeur. […] I know what you say, what you think you’re doing – saving the world one poor doomed soul at a time. I mean, I understand; I do! … But I couldn’t be a part of it. Not when I saw what happened to everyone else you involved. I had to get out, to escape this place. […] I’m sure you’ll find something… “neater”. A strong acid, precisely applied? That sounds more your style. If you decide to do it, that is. GERTRUDE: Nn, I, I–I don’t know… ERIC: No… It’s not an easy sacrifice to make, is it? GERTRUDE: I still have work to do. ERIC: Don’t you always.

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “You will forgive me if I withhold his name, as I have all the verification I need to be convinced he’s telling the truth, and I find it hard to believe any follow-up you’d be interested in doing would be beneficial for him. He’s earned his anonymity. […] Oh – one more thing: if you do try to follow up with my source – and I know you have your own ways of finding him should you wish – please be careful.”

The end of the letter was mostly about Gertrude’s safety, but still… Adelard mentioned shielding his witness from Gertrude, and that’s… something. Did she change her habits around the time she met Gerry (because he was Who He Was, or because she was more reluctant to serve The Eye now that The Watcher’s Crown was an identified threat), or was Gerry… not noticing that she was using her powers to that point…? Both Tim and Basira lauded Gertrude’s efficiency, but at the same time, we’ve been seeing a lot more of her terrible sides this season (Michael Shelley had been a huge one already, and we learned that she was planning to use Gerry to stop The Stranger, Eric mentioned her victims, Arthur was kept in place by her (how powerful and scary must have she been, to contain another monster?), and now we’re seeing Adelard relying on her but being wary of the harm she could do to others…)

(Also, Adelard had a tiny change of heart regarding Gertrude’s powers, between 2006 and 2009:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “I have never envied you your position, Gertrude. I have never coveted your gifts, as I know the terrible costs that come with them. But honestly, trying to get a description of these… things, these “Inheritors” from Bernadette Delcour made me wish I could just pull the image from her lips, like you would have been able to.”

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “I do envy you your gifts sometimes, Gertrude. His account of their pursuit through the mirror-maze was so disjointed that I was honestly unable to follow it. Even after he tried to take me through it two, or even three times. Without The Eye’s clarifying influence, panic can make details… difficult to remember.”

Was it the frustration, pushing him to get a bit envious…? Three years is not a lot; had something happened to him in that timeframe…?)

- Ooooooooooh, so Martin actually followed up on his first interaction with a tape recorder this season:

(MAG126) MARTIN: You do you. Spool away, I guess. Just, you know, let me know if need some more batteries or something.

(MAG156) MARTIN: You know… I’ve been wondering about your batteries. Like, could I just take the batteries out each time one of you appears and just… have an infinite supply of batteries? I mean, I, I won’t, don’t worry. Don’t really have anything that needs them these days. … Also, I know there’s every chance you don’t even have any?, and it’s just empty, and… well… I’m not really sure that’s something I want to confirm.

(Gotta love how Martin went from benevolently offering assistance, to pondering out loud about harming. He did say that he wouldn’t do it, but… Martin. (By “love”, I mean: “I’m worried about Martin’s current state of mind.” But at the same time, I Understand, and the fact he’s not planning on doing it, and is just musing about it, is what matters. It’s a bit of a violent thought-process, but also a bit silly, carrying on with an idea that doesn’t serve any purpose. That’s so random. That really sounds like Martin?))

Isn’t it curious that he’s obsessing with those? … isn’t it a bit scary that the way the world “battery” has been used in season 4 was in the context of a “fear battery” (MAG135, Manuela Dominguez: “I never learned his name, never needed to; he was simply a battery. A ready source of constant terror I could draw on for my experiments.”). Are the tape recorders plainly powered by the scraps of Fears (or the static parts specifically?) of the statements or interactions we hear…?

- I’M SO SAD BUT SO GLAD THAT “MARTIN TALKING TO THE TAPE RECORDERS” IS STILL A THING…

(MAG098) MARTIN: Huh. Yeah, y’know, y’know what? A little privacy would be nice sometimes, okay? Not everything’s for you! You don’t need to listen to everything that we– … Alright, you know what? Y’know what… If you’re that eager, fine.

(MAG126) [CLICK–] [CLOCK IN THE BACKGROUND] [TYPING SOUNDS] MARTIN: [SIGH] Oh. Hello. Haven’t seen you in a while. [TYPING] … Really? I mean, it’s just admin. It’s not exactly thrilling listening. … Alright, fine. Whatever. You do you. Spool away, I guess. Just, you know, let me know if need some more batteries or something. [TYPING] … It’s because he’s back, isn’t it. [SIGH] He’s back, so now you’re going to be… around, again. Listening in. Mff. You missed him, didn’t you. … Yeah. … [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] Yeah, me too.

(MAG154) [CLICK–] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [TYPING SOUNDS] [COMPUTER MOUSE CLICKING] MARTIN: Oh. Right. [CHUCKLE] Hello, again. [TWO CLICKS, TYPING RESUMES] Look, sorry pal, [SHORT LAUGH] false alarm this time…! [ONE CLICK] Oh, unless… [SIGH] [TWO AGGRESSIVE CLICKS] [TO THE ROOM:] Peter!

(MAG156) [CLICK–] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [PAPER RUSTLING] MARTIN: Hm? … Oh. [CHUCKLE] Yeah. [PAPER RUSTLING] I was gonna read one. Hate for you to miss it! [CHUCKLE] [PAUSE] You know… I’ve been wondering about your batteries. Like, could I just take the batteries out each time one of you appears and just… have an infinite supply of batteries? I mean, I, I won’t, don’t worry. […] Still, kind of nice to talk to some… thing. [INHALE] It’s always… quiet, these days. For me, at least. […] I mean, if you’ve got any thoughts, I’d love to hear them. … Hm? [SILENCE] No – didn’t think so. [LONG INHALE] That’s not what you’re here for, is it? [SIGH] No. You want this. [PAPER RUSTLING] Fine. [LONG INHALE] Fine, have it your way. As usual.

He is the only one to humanise them and talk to them directly (… except for Tim’s “Alright. I don’t know what you are. I don’t even know if you’re listening; I don’t care. Just, if you’re there, I want you to know that I hate you. I hate you for, for witnessing what has happened to us.” in MAG117) – even Jon is talking to them in third person? Except for a tiny humorous bit in MAG132 (“You’re coming with me! [SHORT CHUCKLE] Let’s do this one properly.”).

On the one hand, I’m glad because it’s So Soft and please, allow Martin to have a pet (which would stay alive :|), and on the other hand, it’s so sad, because those are one-sided conversations and it shows how desperate he is…? It feels like tape recorders are supplying him with the only interaction he’s now able to feel some comfort in – one-sided things, without any answers, just him talking to the void and to something that wants something from him without giving anything in return. And now, he also… stopped talking to Jon through them, only addressing the item and the recording act:

(MAG138) MARTIN: I don’t know what Peter’s planning, but my–my guess is that it might involve something below the Institute. Hopefully, by the time you get these tapes, I’ll have something more concrete for you. [PAUSE] Good luck, Jon, I– … [HUFF] Stay safe.

(MAG142) MARTIN: I should probably try to get him this tape, let him know what happened, that someone came in to… But then, ahah, would that just come across as an accusation? Like, because I don’t wanna… And then, then I guess he’d… hear this bit as well, so… I… I… [LONG EXHALE] What do I do…?

(MAG156) MARTIN: Anyway. I know he’s been listening to the tapes so, [INHALE] I guess that’ll have to do. I think I still care that he hears my voice. It’s hard to tell, sometimes. How much do I actually care; how much is just feeling that I should care.

;; He used to address Jon directly… Though he did seem in plain control of the recording in MAG138, contrary to MAG156. I wasn’t sure about his comment above, at first, but given his slight surprise when he saw the tape recorder… aouch, I think it implies that Martin wasn’t planning to record his reading this time around, and to only leave the statements for Jon and the other…? Or at least, that he isn’t sure anymore that the fact that he would be the one recording matters. And that’s… just… so sad…

- Sssso Martin’s spontaneous suspects about what could be inside A Spooky Tape Recorder are:

(MAG156) MARTIN: You know… I’ve been wondering about your batteries. Like, could I just take the batteries out each time one of you appears and just… have an infinite supply of batteries? I mean, I, I won’t, don’t worry. Don’t really have anything that needs them these days. … Also, I know there’s every chance you don’t even have any?, and it’s just empty, and… well�� I’m not really sure that’s something I want to confirm. Or, I open up your compartment and it’s like, meat, or–or maggots, or something. … Mm. “Emptiness or maggots”…! It’s kinda the shape of things around here, isn’t it?

Flesh, Corruption and Lonely. It makes a lot of sense, since the three of them (through Jared, worms, Peter) terrorised him:

(MAG131) JARED: When we came up through the floor, it was wonderful. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on their faces. It was like their world had gone with the floor. The weak one legged it, and I thought the skinny one did too.

(MAG022) MARTIN: I think I might have… lost my mind a bit, then. It all… feels very… strange, blurry. I–I remember stamping and stamping as–as more made their way under my doorway. I–I remember grabbing every towel, sock, bit of fabric scrap that I could find, stuffing them under the door, into the cracks around the window. Anything where a slender worm might crawl I made airtight. And then I sat there and waited.

(MAG039) TIM: Martin’s gone. ARCHIVIST: I’m getting to that. Martin has disappeared. Tim was right about there being fewer worms down here, but they are much faster. More aggressive. None of us have been hit yet but… during one of the more alarming encounters, Martin ran off. TIM: He thought we were behind him, I think. ARCHIVIST: He didn’t think at all.

(MAG108) PETER: Do I scare you Martin? MARTIN: Yes…! PETER: Hm. Probably for the best.

But I’m still squinting hard that one of the prime suspect should have been “spiders spinning inside”, and Martin, who loves spiders, who had specifically described Gertrude’s hidden room in the tunnels through an absence of webs (MAG040: “She was sat in a wooden chair in the middle of the room. No worms. No cobwebs. Just… an old corpse.”), didn’t raise that possibility, so MMMMMmmm…

- If Peter’s dying this season, I’m gonna miss him so much because he’s SO SHITTY…

(MAG156) MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] I just wish [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] Peter would finally get round to telling me what we’re meant to be doing about it…! PETER: Then I have– MARTIN: [SURPRISED YELP] [CHAIR CLATTERING?] PETER: –good news for you! MARTIN: Peter, we have talked about this! PETER: In my defence, it is still quite funny. […] Excellent. I’m so proud of you, Martin. MARTIN: I really don’t care. PETER: Perfect.

I really really hope that he’s genuinely confusing Martin’s snappiness towards him as a general rejection of people – to me, it still feels like Peter Remains A Special Case and that Martin personally doesn’t like him? Well. Has grown fonder of/a bit more dependent on him than planned, certainly, since Martin still thought he was better than nothing:

(MAG149) MARTIN: Peter hasn’t rocked up with some more… “insights”? Haven’t seen him around for a while, actually. I mean… eh, it’s not like I miss him [CHUCKLING] but, at least he was someone to– [PAUSE] … Ah. [HUFF] [PAPER RUSTLING] Yeah, that makes sense. [EXHALE] A’ight, fine. Just… me on my lonesome for a while, then.

(MAG151) MARTIN: I can’t. Peter’s the one with the plan, and… it needs me to be alone. BASIRA: And you don’t see anything suspicious about that? MARTIN: Of course I do! But it… might be the only way and… [INHALE] So far, at least, he’s been honest with me. Awful, but… honest. I need to do this. For everyone.

But I don’t think that, unless it’s about Peter’s skills/knowledge, Martin would feel sad if Peter were to disappear. (… Or would he?)

- And AOUCH for that textbook manipulation bit of… suddenly rushing things. They’ve been static for so long, and now, just because Peter has said so, they have to act quickly – so Martin has less time for planning.

(MAG154) MARTIN: [EXASPERATED INHALE] So. What’s the news? PETER: I think we’re finally ready! MARTIN: Great. And does that mean I finally get to know what we’re ready for? PETER: Yes! Well… for the most part. To a certain degree, you really need to see it for yourself. […] If you need more time… MARTIN: I don’t. PETER: … Good! Because I was going to say there probably isn’t any. MARTIN: If it’s been down there all this time, how come we haven’t found it? Jon explored the tunnels pretty thoroughly, and Leitner was down there a lot. PETER: It’s very difficult to reach if you don’t know exactly where you’re going. MARTIN: … And you do? PETER: I will. By tomorrow, I should have my hands on a map, and then… we go. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … Right.

* Martin gets some time, but I’m not sure he’ll leave an audio testament for the others (especially since Jon had discovered the previous tapes sooner than he had planned), just like the assistants had done in MAG117. But maybe a letter…? I’m not even sure he would bother, but…

* What was The Thing that would suddenly require them to hurry things through…? Is it that Jon has found a way for the assistants to leave The Eye? Is it that Jon is coming closer to a breaking point, withdrawal-wise? Is it that Peter actually fears Julia&Trevor? Is it that someone/something (Annabelle, Adelard?) is ready to make their move against the Institute? Is it to mess with Martin, since Martin sounds ready? Is it because the end of 2018 is slowly coming closer and Peter would still need to act before the end of the Institute’s anniversary year and/or they’re approaching the exact anniversary date of its foundation? Is it because Elias is on the verge of breaking free from prison, and Peter is scared of the consequences given how he Lonely’d a few staff members and made a mess of the scheduling…?

(- Ahahahah, and no mention of Trevor&Julia around Martin… does he even KNOW they threatened Jon and the others, and could come back any moment? Does Peter know? Will they mess up their plans down in the tunnels…?

No mention of Melanie either – did Martin read her letter? Did some spiders snatch it up before anyone could read it, or did Peter take it far from Martin’s sight…? There must have been a huuuge commotion at the Institute when Melanie was taken by the emergency unit, did Martin even notice…?)

- Regarding Martin’s… apathy? comfort in his isolation? We had been warned by Peter, and Martin had mentioned pretty often that he was growing accustomed to this situation, but with this episode…

(MAG156) MARTIN: Still, kind of nice to talk to some… thing. [INHALE] It’s always… quiet, these days. For me, at least. I guess I technically have the power to make it not quiet, to… to talk to people, but like… You know, I–I also have the power to clean out the fridge, and it’s still a mess. It’s not that I don’t want to clean the fridge, it’s just… Some things are just hard…! Anyway. I know he’s been listening to the tapes so, [INHALE] I guess that’ll have to do. I think I still care that he hears my voice. It’s hard to tell, sometimes. How much do I actually care; how much is just feeling that I should care. I’m on my own so much these days, I… just wish I didn’t like it so much.

IT’S PLAIN DEPRESSION, MARTIN ??? There was still no mention of Melanie nor of her letter, but… if he has read it, it might have contributed to the numbness (everything is fading, collapsing, Martin is on his own and the other assistants are not his friends, have never have been, and he doesn’t know them much). And gosh, it sounds like Jon was spot-on about it in “Cul-de-Sac” (well, at least about the part about Martin being hit hard by The Lonely; Jon’s examples were… kinda optimistic, compared to what’s happening with Martin):

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: Statement ends. The Lonely is… possibly the most insidious of the powers, I believe. Certainly it is the one that… most delights in having you do its work for it. Even the Spiders seem to have a hard time matching it for sheer seductiveness. [HUFF] “Time to yourself”, “self-care”, “putting yourself forward”… “not being a burden on those you care about”… [PAUSE] It doesn’t even need to tell you any lies; just waits for the lies you tell yourself.

It just feels so bad and sad, that… Peter’s grooming might be working? That Elias, who had guided Peter in Martin’s direction, is winning by proxy? That Martin is taking refuge in something that feels comfortable and is self-destructive at the same time, in something that actually makes him miserable? He doesn’t seem happy nor at peace, it just seems like Actually Facing things outside of his self-imposed goal (stopping The Extinction, protecting the others from afar) had become scary and too difficult, too… It just feels extra-double bad given how Peter had been around and “tying” Martin up in the Extinction plot when Martin was apparently at his lowest:

(MAG118) ELIAS: Your mother. MARTIN: [BREATHES SHARPLY] ELIAS: She’s always been… “difficult”, hasn’t she? You take care of her for years, feed her, clean up after her and now, with her condition degrading even further, she is the one that asked to move into a home, to have it left to the nurses! She is the one that refuses your visits. MARTIN: Sh– she’s always been– ELIAS: Strong-willed? Stubborn? No. No, Martin; you know the reason. Your mother… simply hates you. You just don’t know why! It’s not your fault. Though I know that isn’t any consolation, it’s just bad luck, really. How old were you when your father left? Eight? Nine? When you mother began to sicken and he decided he was done with you both. Not old enough to remember him with any great clarity, especially when your mother refused to keep any pictures of him. She never recovered from that betrayal. He just tore her heart right out!, and took it with him. The thing is, though, Martin: if you ever do want to know exactly what your father looked like… all you have to do~ is look in a mirror~ MARTIN: [HEAVY BREATHING] ELIAS: The resemblance is quite uncanny: the face of the man she hates, who destroyed her life, watching over her; feeding her; cleaning her; looking down on her with such pity– MARTIN: [RAGGED] Shut! Up! ELIAS: Do you want to know what she sees when she looks a you? [STATIC INTENSIFIES] MARTIN: [STRANGLED BREATHING AND CRIES] [FOR LONG] [LONG] [STRANGLED SOBS] [STATIC FADES OUT] ELIAS: Don’t. burn. any more. statements.

(MAG120) ELIAS: Hello, inspector. Martin. I’m… sorry to hear about Tim. MARTIN: Don’t. ELIAS: And Daisy, I suppose. MARTIN: Don’t. you. dare. ELIAS: I suppose it’s some consolation Basira made it out. And Jon – more or less.

(Season 4 Trailer) MARTIN: We really need you, Jon. Everything’s… It’s bad. I–I don’t know how much longer we can do this. We– … I need you. A–and… I know that you’re not… [PAUSE] I–I know th–there’s no way to… [PAUSE] But we need you. Jon. Jon, please, just… Please. If–if there’s anything left in you that can still… see us, or–or some power that you’ve still got, or–or, or something, anything – please! … Please… [SHAKY BREATHING, STRANGLED VOICE] I… I can’t…

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: You were attacked. … When? BASIRA: About two months ago. It was… it was The Flesh. ARCHIVIST: [MUTTERING] Oh god. BASIRA: Yeah, it was bad. We took them all out. Melanie did most of them. She was… she got a knife from somewhere and– ARCHIVIST: Basira, I… I don’t know if that’s a good sign…? BASIRA: … She saved my life, Jon. She saved all of us. I won’t forget that. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Fine… Fine. Haven’t seen Martin about yet? BASIRA: Yeah, he comes and goes. He’s busy. Well, he seems it. ARCHIVIST: Working for Peter Lukas. BASIRA: Don’t be too hard on him, Jon. Your, er… “situation”, it hit him. Hard.

(MAG134) PETER: Martin, this is what we agreed. After The Flesh attacked, you came to me. MARTIN: [SIGH]

(MAG127) BASIRA: … It was a few months back. After the attack. He’d started spending time with Lukas. At least, he said he was. And I wanted answers. He kept telling me to trust him, to hear the guy out even though he still wouldn’t actually show his face. I told him he could… drop me an email or vanish me. ARCHIVIST: … Right. BASIRA: Honestly, I kind of regret not just… grabbing Martin and shaking an explanation out of him. But I didn’t want to push it. He was in a… bad place, what with the attack and his mom and everything, so I didn’t press it. Now, I try and bring it up, he just… disappears. Nothing to be done. ARCHIVIST: So–sorry, you said… What happened with his mother? BASIRA: Oh, yeah. She died. About two months– ARCHIVIST: Oh… BASIRA: –after you, er… … Martin was… … He tried to stay strong. Keep it together but, that sort of thing… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] BASIRA: [SIGH] Then those Flesh things busted in, and well, here we are! ARCHIVIST: … God. BASIRA: He didn’t tell you? ARCHIVIST: No…

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I, er… I heard about your mother. MARTIN: … Yeah. ARCHIVIST: I am… so sorry. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Thank you. [INHALE] It’s… [SHAKY EXHALE] It’s better, this way. ARCHIVIST: If–if you do need to talk, I– MARTIN: I can’t. ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–of course.

And ;; I know that there is probably not enough time left for this? But I still crave for Martin to actually talk about his feelings on what happened after MAG119 – having to bear with the knowledge that his mother hated him, learning about Tim’s death, witnessing Jon’s coma, seeing his mother die, all in the span of two months… Elias had already preyed on Jon and the assistants by binding them without their knowledge, by trapping Jon with a god he had never wanted or known about in the first place; but it feels even worse with Martin, given how he had to deal both with Elias’s actions and Peter’s looming over him, when he was specifically said to be vulnerable, when he was all alone, when he had lost so many people…? I want to hear Martin talk or scream about his feeeeliiiiiings, even if they’re dark and bitter and sad ;___; Let it go, Martin, please…

(- I’mmmm gonna be That Person (too) but I’m stubborn and I refuse to give up entirely on Web!Martin, or at least manipulative!Martin… ;;

I think, genuinely, that he might still be trying to double-cross Peter: not in the sense that Martin will try to get out of it alive, safe and sound (I think he’s absolutely going for a self-sacrifice), but in the sense that he is expecting Peter to have further plans, and is getting ready to pull Peter in the pit together with him as soon as an occasion arises. There has been a pattern in Martin’s way of checking his surroundings which, at least, screams to me that he has noticed how Peter operates, had been getting closer to Peter on purpose, and could be planning to get rid of the new threat just like he did the previous one:

(MAG134) MARTIN: [SIGH] [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MARTIN: So that’s it, is it? PETER: It is!

(MAG138) MARTIN: So… so what? What does it mean? Am I supposed to be reassured that new Entities can be born? That there’s some, some kind of… precedent for The Extinction? … Peter? [SILENCE] Huh. Maybe he has gone to a party.

(MAG144) MARTIN: Statement ends. [CLEARS THROAT] [INHALE, EXHALE] … Right. Another… statement. Another side to… Peter’s “Extinction”. I think. I… Y– I– [HUFF] I, I couldn’t follow some of his reasoning, but I think it was about… nuclear weapons, or… or maybe doomsday’s weapons…? In keeping with the theme, I suppose. [ARTIFICIALLY AND POINTEDLY] I just wish Peter would spend less time trying to convince me his new power is real, and more time telling me what he plans to do about it…! [SIGH] … And where I fit in. I mean, fine, I guess, I belie– [KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.] MARTIN: [SHORT SHAKY INHALE]

(MAG149) MARTIN: Sort of… surprised Peter hasn’t rocked up with some more… “insights”? Haven’t seen him around for a while, actually. I mean… eh, it’s not like I miss him [CHUCKLING] but, at least he was someone to– [PAUSE] … Ah. [HUFF] [PAPER RUSTLING] Yeah, that makes sense. [EXHALE] A’ight, fine. Just… me on my lonesome for a while, then. … Could be worse. … Peaceful, at least. … I don’t miss all the shouting. [CHUCKLE] Even if it w– [FOOTSTEPS IN THE DISTANCE, COMING CLOSER] MARTIN: … Wait.

(MAG151) MARTIN: You–you know about that? BASIRA: Yeah. Jon found the tapes you made for him– MARTIN: SHH–SHH-SHH!! SHHHHH!!! BASIRA: [LOWER] Found a stash of them a while ago. I made sure he shared with the class. MARTIN: Oh, there you go, then!

(MAG154) MARTIN: Oh, unless… [SIGH] [TWO AGGRESSIVE CLICKS] [TO THE ROOM] Peter! [SILENCE] [INHALE] Look, Peter, I– [DOOR OPENS] ARCHIVIST: Martin! MARTIN: Oh, Jon! [DOOR CLOSES] God, don’t do that!

(MAG156) MARTIN: Another day, another Extinction scare. The more things change, I guess. [LONG SIGH] I just wish [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] Peter would finally get round to telling me what we’re meant to be doing about it…! PETER: Then I have– MARTIN: [SURPRISED YELP] [CHAIR CLATTERING?] PETER: –good news for you!

Martin knows that Peter can be around at any time, listening and spying on him. He panicked when Basira mentioned his tapes, and the fact they still went on with their discussion about Martin’s activities behind Peter’s back really wasn’t the smartest thing (what if Peter was spying them, at that moment, and just chose to keep watching without intervening? There is a huge chance that it was the case, and that Peter will throw it into Martin’s face down in the tunnels) – but also… Martin didn’t say anything “new” or compromising in that discussion. If Peter was listening to their exchange, Martin didn’t give him much reason to worry about his loyalty towards him and their project: after the mention of the tapes (which was Basira slipping), Martin only said that he disliked Peter, that he wanted to see their plan through, and acknowledged that he wasn’t planning on coming back (he only inquired about Jon, but… from afar). Same thing when Jon rushed to his office to explain to him about the eye-gouging, to the point that Martin firmly rejected Jon’s offer to elope together, and convinced Jon that Martin had been lost (MAG154: “… The Lonely’s really got you, hasn’t it?” “You know, I think it always did.”). Same with Daisy, in MAG144, which had shown Martin acting cold and biting, absolutely contrasting with MAG142… and the main difference was that, in the latter, Peter hadn’t shown up when Martin had expressed how lost he was and how he wanted to avoid confronting Jon, and that he didn’t care much about Daisy at that point.

I mean, it’s pretty clear that the Lonely “got” Martin, and that some of his ability to reach and be reached was deeply hurt in the process. But at the same time: Martin has understood that directly naming Peter, and snapping about him, tends to make him appear – and it feels so much like baiting Peter out? A way to get him in on Martin’s own terms? So given that he sounds like he’s extremely conscious of being under surveillance, potentially all the time, I’m not ruling out that he has been purposefully voicing some of his opinions in order to get on Peter’s good side. After all, it’s because they had observed Elias’s habits and how his powers operated that they had managed to trap him at the end of season 3; they already got rid of one Head of the Institute by manoeuvring around their weaknesses. So Martin could still be trying to repeat the same miracle, although sacrificing parts of himself in the process…?

As usual, doesn’t mean that it won’t go absolutely wrong but… At the very least, I don’t really see Peter&Martin acting as an absolute and undivided unit right now. Peter wants things from Martin, but the opposite is also true.)

- And so, we’re indeed heading towards Tunnels Stuff and it’s still a Mystery.

(MAG156) PETER: You know the tunnels, under the Institute? MARTIN: Ye–yes, I remember. PETER: Well. There’s something at the centre, a… let’s call it a “device”. Now – our biggest problem with The Extinction is lack of information. We know it’s emerging, but we don’t know how, or where. MARTIN: And this… “device” will help. PETER: Yes…! MARTIN: And I’m going to be the one to use it for you. PETER: I very much hope so. [PAUSE] If you need more time… MARTIN: I don’t. PETER: … Good! Because I was going to say there probably isn’t any. MARTIN: If it’s been down there all this time, how come we haven’t found it? Jon explored the tunnels pretty thoroughly, and Leitner was down there a lot. PETER: It’s very difficult to reach if you don’t know exactly where you’re going. MARTIN: … And you do? PETER: I will.

Helen had mentioned that there is something at their centre; Simon also thought that Peter wanted something specific in the Institute; Smirke had reminded Jonah that they had “constructed” something under Millbank, in the same statement in which he was warning Jonah against “wearing” The Watcher’s Crown…

(MAG152) ARCHIVIST: They could have spread all the way through these tunnels, but they didn’t. They didn’t find Leitner down here, didn’t find… Gertrude’s body. Didn’t find… whatever else is here. HELEN: It is a maze. One of the reasons I like it. ARCHIVIST: Mm. [SILENCE] … I can’t see things properly here. I thought it was just me, something interfering with my connection to The Eye, but… I’m wondering. Maybe it affects everything else. Like this place is some kind of… “universal blind spot”. Everyone gets lost, down here. HELEN: What a fascinating idea. Although… some of us are always lost, in a sense. ARCHIVIST: Wait– Are you saying you can navigate it? HELEN: Not exactly. But my door has been part of these tunnels for some time, now. ARCHIVIST: Wh– [SPLUTTERS] What’s it hiding, wh–what’s in the middle? HELEN: A delightful surprise…! [LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

(MAG151) SIMON: I don’t know the details. But I believe there’s something in the Institute that he thinks can help his cause. MARTIN: … And he needs me to use it. SIMON: Presumably – from what he said, it must be “powerfully aligned to The Watcher”. If he wishes to use it, it would need someone already touched by The Eye. And if he wants to control that someone… MARTIN: They need to serve The Lonely.

(MAG138, Robert Smirke) “I could not go easy to my grave without offering you one last plea for your restraint. What we built at Millbank should be left well enough alone, resigned to the nightmares of the reprobates and brigands contained within its walls. […] I am not a fool; I know well enough what this dream is likely to mean, and I warn you again that if you have any remaining ambitions to use our work, to try and wear The Watcher’s Crown, you must abandon them! Not simply for the sake of your own soul, but for that of the world!” […] MARTIN: I don’t know what he’s talking about when he mentions Millbank. The old prison, I guess? Tim said the tunnels under the Institute were all that was left of it, but… Jon said he’d checked them pretty thoroughly. [SILENCE] [SIGH] I’m not the one who knows all about this stuff…! I wish– … No. No, it’s fine, I’m… fine, I… [EXHALE] I can do this. I don’t know what Peter’s planning, but my–my guess is that it might involve something below the Institute.

And Martin was already suspecting that Peter was interested in the tunnels. (In the end, was that why Peter had given him Smirke’s letter to Jonah? Martin wasn’t sure why he had been given this one (MAG138: “So… so what? What does it mean? Am I supposed to be reassured that new Entities can be born? That there’s some, some kind of… precedent for The Extinction?”), and ended up assuming it was about Smirke’s typology, but the statement also had mentions of Smirke’s overall work and thought-process, to the point that Martin had nailed down that Peter’s interest probably lay with the tunnels under the Institute. So in the end, rather than proving to Martin that a new Fear could be birthed, maybe the main point of Peter handling Martin this statement was actually the tunnels themselves?

Peter didn’t seem absolutely firm on the word “device”, so I’m guessing that it’s a word which fits-but-doesn’t-really-fit, but what is iiiiit arrrg:

* An architectural structure based on Jeremy Bentham’s panopticon and actually designed by Smirke with Jonah Magnus’s help?

* The Watcher’s Crown, in a literal sense? (The two could be exactly the same thing; “watcher’s crown” could be the name of a structure… But Smirke had also warned Jonah not to “wear” it, so? What would be a thing that you can “wear”, physically or metaphorically speaking…?)

* Something something “crown” and “(an eye’s) corona” having the same root.

* The camera that Salesa had retrieved in MAG141’s statement? (If the tape recorder had clicked on for this statement and not for Jon’s previous four victims, then it means that this one contained something more important to their eyes (… to their plastic gears?); was it only because it was tied to Salesa, a recurring figure until now? Or was it specifically trying to nudge Jon in the direction of the camera?)

* It’s A Metaphor, The “Device” Is Jon Himself (but why specifically in the tunnels, then? Would he need to be afar from The Eye, since Jon was feeling weird down there?)

* The Not!Them? Leitner had reckoned it was trapped in the tunnels, probably not dead… It was powerful enough to rewrite a part of reality (and people’s memory), could it damage The Extinction in the same way…?

* A tomb, à la Schwartzwald, which may or may not have been (re)created thanks to the books Jonah had stolen from Albrecht? The tomb of Jonah himself? (Can’t be Albrecht’s body since Jonathan Fanshawe had burnt it, nor Barnabas’s since Elias said his bones were in his office…)

No idea, I’m mostly guessing that I’ll groan heavily and go “OF COURSE, URK” when it’s revealed. We still don’t know what the tunnels are, why “DIG” guy was feeling something focused on them, why Jon and Daisy felt so off while down there:

(MAG088, Enrique MacMillan) “so here I came. To tell my story, of course, but another thing as well; cold, empty and calling. There’s something here, you see. Something to be dug up, rooted out, buried within. A hollow space that all eyes point towards. And I intend to reach it, if my fingers don’t give out first. I know where to dig.” MARTIN: Uh, um, the, uh, the statement ends rather abruptly there. Based on a few scattered notes and accounts from some of the older staff, it sounds like Mr. Macmillan got in a bit of a fight, which led to his arrest, and the replacement of quite a bit of the floor in Jon’s office. There are still a couple of boards with marks on them that I’d always hoped weren’t fingernail scratches, but I guess…

(MAG120) ELIAS: He catches a glimpse of an advert above his seat: [STATIC INTENSIFIES] “DIG”.

(MAG114) ARCHIVIST: You alright, Daisy? DAISY: [NONCOMMITAL SOUNDS] BASIRA: Don’t think either of us like it down here. ARCHIVIST: Uh, well, no, me neither. Feels… DAISY: Empty. ARCHIVIST: Yeah.

And there is one more thing that’s still a bit weird, related to Martin’s discovery of Gertrude’s body:

(MAG040) ELIAS: Martin finding her body in the tunnels is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.

(MAG040) MARTIN: I wandered for a while. It’s a, it’s a maze down there, Jon. I don’t know how far the passages go. Maybe miles. I think it must be the old Millbank Prison, like Tim was saying before. I even found some stairs at one point, but I really didn’t want to go down them. […] I wanted to get out of there. I was looking for a way up, but it felt more and more like I was trapped. Every turn just led me to another empty corridor. When I finally found a door, I thought it might actually get out, but instead… It was a small room. Square. There was dust on everything. Cardboard boxes were piled around. They were full of old cassette tapes. ARCHIVIST: That’s where you found her? […] Could you find the room again? MARTIN: I don’t know. Maybe. The police certainly expect me to, although I got the feeling they’re not too keen to explore the tunnels either.

(MAG041) ARCHIVIST: This place, it felt more organic in its unpredictability, as though it had been intended to be used, to be travelled, but had gotten twisted somehow. I found spaces that seemed intended as rooms but without doors. Elsewhere, there were doors that seemed simply attached to the walls. Most of these were firmly shut, though some opened to reveal the flat grey stone behind. Only a handful I opened had actual rooms behind them, and in every case I found myself wondering whether that was where Martin had found her. There was no way to tell. Even when the police finally found Gertrude’s body, they took it, chair and all, as well as all the tapes.

“No cobwebs” in Gertrude’s room; the police had some trouble finding her again, Jon wasn’t sure he would be able to, and Leitner didn’t mention anything to imply knowledge of Gertrude’s body being somewhere in the tunnels; and it was still… well-preserved enough for Martin to recognise her on sight? Now that I think about it, is the fact that Martin was somehow able to find Gertrude’s body the main reason why Elias threw him in Peter’s direction…? (Martin said he was terrified, when he was running. Was it “thanks” to his fears that he pushed through…?)

(It’s still so mysterious that, if it’s supposed to be The Eye’s place of ritual, Jon feels that his powers/his connection to The Eye are tampered with in there? If Smirke was aiming for a neutral ground, how did he manage to not make it an Eye stronghold while at the same time constructing something that could use The Eye’s powers?)

This is so exciting, because the tunnels have been part of the story for so long…! The worms had actually been there for a while during the second half of season 1, before they began to pour out when the spider made Jon notice their presence behind the wall (MAG038); it’s where Tim&Jon&Martin briefly took shelter (MAG039), and where the worms attempted to build their portal; it’s where Martin was revealed to have discovered Gertrude’s body (MAG040); Jon began exploring them all through season 2 (starting MAG041); it’s where Not!Sasha ultimately tried to kill him (MAG079) before Leitner stepped in to save him; it’s mostly where Leitner had been hiding for six years (MAG080); it’s where the assistants began to clearly scheme against Elias in season 3 starting with MAG103; it’s how Tim was navigating in and out of the Institute while avoiding everyone (MAG114); it’s where Jon and Basira removed Melanie’s bullet (MAG125); where Helen was revealed to have trapped Jared (MAG131); and Jon has been coming down there recently again (MAG152)… They’ve been with us for so long, it feels a bit surreal to finally (maybe) get more information about what they are, what the intent behind their creation was, and what they could do…?

- Other obvious question is: what is the map Peter intends on getting, and how will he get his hands on it? In order of Least to Most cursed:

* It’s… extremely interesting that we already got a similar configuration with many of the elements that are currently relevant, with The Great Twisting: an expedition to stop an apocalypse, Peter Lukas being there, a map showing the way although the place should be full of deceit:

(MAG101) MICHAEL: Even when they arrived in Dikson, at the edge of the Kara Sea, and they were picked up by a quiet sea captain called Peter Lukas… Even then he trusted her. […] There was a great evil, she said, and Michael was going to help her fight it. […] But Gertrude Robinson had given poor, disposable Michael one more thing before sending him to me. She had given him a map. I couldn’t say how she would have gotten such a thing, or if she somehow made it. And yet it was a map. A map to me. It made no sense, lines overlapping and inverting, but once within, Michael knew which turns to make, which doors to open, which mirrors to shatter. Until he became me.

… and the presence of the Distortion.

We still don’t know how/where Gertrude had obtained that map – if it’s never ever relevant again, I will keep assuming it was a random, inconsequential map (and that what mattered was that Michael Shelley thought it would give him a direction, because he trusted Gertrude), but it’s still an open question at this stage. Interesting things in current events: the Distortion is currently (not) identifying as “Helen”, and Helen Richardson was good with maps, due to her profession (she had been able to draw one for Jon in MAG047); and we don’t know who sent Jared after “the Archivist”/the archival assistants, but the Distortion popped right at that moment to save them, and that event was apparently what led to Martin finally agreeing to collaborate with Peter in exchange for the others’ protection. Given how Michael-the-Distortion had called itself “the throat of delusion incarnate” and how Leitner had mentioned one of his assistants was calling it “esmentiaras” (… “es mentira”/“es mentiroso”?)… there could still be some backstabbing from the Distortion behind Jon’s back, whether it’s for fun or because it’s trying to play all the others, as a revenge against The Eye and The Lonely collaborating to counter The Great Twisting back then…? Or would that be too “coherent” for it…?

* Salesa has many spooky items, and he’s gonna be revealed to be a provider of maps too.

* Leitner’s spooky copy of The Seven Lamps of Architecture, which he had himself used to change the tunnels. Given that Leitner got pipemurder’d, Elias probably got his hands on the book?

* A map done by Tim, because Martin mentioned Leitner and Jon, but we know that Tim had also been navigating through the tunnels, and he was the most familiar with Smirke’s work – something that Martin himself had acknowledged this season in MAG138. (And also: because I miss Tim, and because I’m still so ??? that he has barely been mentioned at all this season, especially compared to how Sasha had been such an open wound in season 3…?)

* Elias had one that had been directly created by Smirke, stored somewhere in the Institute, and either tipped Peter about it, either Peter found it on his own?

* RELATEDLY, I would invite Patreons to reread the Artefact Storage Inventory that was provided as a bonus, because UHM, that first item? sounds absolutely like a miniature/reproduction of the tunnels reflecting what is happening to them?! (Down to the details of the carcasses – the report is dated from the end of 2016 so… after Prentiss’s attack.)

* Peter going to see Jon asking him to “Know” about the tunnels’ architecture, insisting heavily that Martin might die if he gets lost inside of them? (And giving his own statement as a restorative.)

* Adelard Dekker, at last? I still really don’t think that Peter and him were friends, though (/and if someone has killed Adelard, my bet is that Peter was responsible for it).

* Annabelle popping up to provide direction? Tough Peter didn’t seem to be in touch with The Web much (he wasn’t sure why they didn’t have a ritual, and he was wary of Martin having been influenced by ~something~, in MAG134).

* They’re in the tunnels, Martin is snapping snappily at Peter about the lack of direction, rants about the fact that of course, Peter didn’t bring any map in the end, and surprise!Elias pops up in the corridor, “I am Map.” (Martin screams and it’s heartbreaking because he has thrown Elias in prison, only for Elias to reveal that he could come out whenever.)

* You know who was good at finding his way (out)? MAG100’s dinner guy. He comes back to lead the way. With his DOG. Martin gets his feelings back and cries; meanwhile, somewhere in the Archives, Basira shudders and suddenly wants to scream.

- And what fate is supposedly awaiting Martin…? Martin was expecting a self-sacrifice, Peter finally confirmed that it would be in a way that is not lethal:

(MAG126) MARTIN: … When all this is over, I’m telling him everything, with or without your permission. PETER: Martin… when it’s over, you won’t want to. MARTIN: … Mm. PETER: But he will be safe. They all will. MARTIN: … Yeah.

(MAG138) ELIAS: But no. This is too important for me to jeopardise with cheap “mindgames”. I simply have to trust that when the time comes, you’ll make the right choice.

(MAG151) BASIRA: You’re not expecting to come out of this, are you? MARTIN: … I’ll do what I have to. If I’m right… no one else needs to get hurt. [SILENCE] BASIRA: [SIGH] … Okay. You want to do whatever “grand sacrifice” you think is going to save everyone, go ahead. But you’d best be sure you’re not just playing their game. MARTIN: I know what I’m doing. BASIRA: We’ll see. [PAUSE] Don’t make me regret this. MARTIN: Yeah… [PAUSE] Don’t… tell Jon. [SILENCE] Please.

(MAG156) MARTIN: Will I be coming back? PETER: You’re not going to die, if that’s what you’re asking, but… no. If all goes well, you won’t be. MARTIN: [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] PETER: How does that make you feel? MARTIN: … Nothing. [SNORT] Nothing at all…!

What is a thing that could mean “not coming back”…? Is it metaphorical, and related to the idea that Martin would die and not come back as the same (kind of what was expected for Jon between season 3 and season 4)…? Is it physical? And then, what would it mean: that Martin will get sealed in The Lonely together with The Extinction? That he’ll be stuck Beholding it as long as he can, inside of a panopticon? That he would be freed from the Archives in another way, and would be cut off from The Eye? That he would leave with Peter for unknown reasons? … Or is it a bit more bastardly from Peter, and actually related to the fact that he’ll reveal to Martin at the last moment that Martin has to do something terrible to stop it, and that the “not coming back” would be because Martin would be too crushed and ashamed to want to come back…? (Maybe the “right choice” according to Elias doesn’t necessarily mean following Peter’s ideas, as long as they take care of The Extinction?)

On the one hand, we got maaaany signals introducing us to the idea that no, Martin is done for – kinda like we had gotten with Tim, and there was no subversion for Tim, it didn’t prevent Tim from indeed dying just as announced. On the other hand, I really don’t “feel” like we’re absolutely saying goodbye to Martin right now…? But how could Martin “come back” after all of this, indeed, and go back to being an assistant, or close to Jon…? (At the same time, I would be super interested in seeing that!! ;; Martin coming back from his awful experience, and being barely able to communicate with other people without snapping or rejecting them instinctively, and still not being fine around people… but gradually learning to manage a bit again (before the end of season 5 would hit even harder.)). (I also doubt that Jon would keep holding on for very long, if Martin disappears, so it would mean losing our two main leads in one go…? It’s still a possibility, but I’m really not sure.)

The Web has been watching, at the very least, so it could hijack whatever Peter is planning for himself and The Lonely while still slowing down The Extinction if that’s in its interests too… I still like to think that the Spiders have a grudge against Peter for taking Brian, and what better way to get their revenge than to thwart Peter’s plan and/or snatch Martin right under his nose?

37th episode of past seasons: Jon being dead-set on keeping the table that would kill Sasha two episodes later (season 1), Jon listening to Gertrude’s tape labelled “Changeling/Imposter” because Melanie had made him suspicious of Sasha in the previous episode, and beginning to realise that Sasha might have been killed, leading to their confrontation (season 2), the Archives team’s statements/testaments, including Jon’s decision to “trust” them despite it all (season 3), a few days before they would head off towards The Unknowing… So ;; Could be a “breather” before action, could be the beginning of action itself in this one.

MAG157’s title is… very broad? Statement-wise, it obviously screams Corruption, but I’m also reminded of how The Lonely seemed corrosive on the Tundra…? It would also fit for, let’s say, another of the letters describing Jonah Magnus’s activities, I guess (whether it’s nailing down his personality, or whether it’s mostly assumptions). There is also Raymond Fielding that that Web apple…?

It’s the second meaning I’m mostly curious about, because it could be referring to so many things. A place: the Institute or the tunnels themselves? The entities, the Eye in particular? A body filled with eyes (again)? A person meeting that description: and then we would have many to pick from (Jonah Magnus, since it calls back to Jon’s conclusion about his character after MAG127’s statement; Peter; the Lukas family overall; Gertrude; Elias himself, since Jon had snarked about this too in season 3…?)

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #mag156 #the magnus archives #tma season 4 #tma liveblog

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monstersandmaw · 7 years ago

Text

Deaf Werewolf (Part Two) (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Part One

Very slight NSFW at the end, nothing explicit.

___

You stared out of the window, watching the lone wolf sniffing around, until she snapped her head up, tail bristling.

A truly huge wolf burst over the orchard’s stone wall, and rammed into the stranger. Your hand flew to your mouth as you watched them scrap, snarling and biting, tearing up the ground and lashing at each other with their jaws and claws. Eventually, though it was probably only minutes later, the red wolf ran, tail between her legs.

Breathing hard, the dark wolf turned and trotted up to your door. You fled the window and raced to let him in. He chuffed softly, almost like a laugh, as you fussed over him, and he nosed at your trembling hand, his tail swishing gently as he stood on all fours on your doorstep.

“Are you hurt? You want to come in?” you asked. He nosed more insistently at you, his head coming halfway up your torso despite having all his paws on the ground. “God, you’re even bigger than Rowan,” you commented.

He snorted at that, clearly amused, and whined something so low and insistently that you didn’t need to speak ‘wolf’ to understand him. Your cheeks flushed crimson.

He pressed his nose between your legs for a moment, almost at the top of your thighs, and wagged his tail playfully, growling softly, warmly. Then he stuck his cold, wet muzzle against your neck, reaching up easily. His hot tongue rasped across your neck and made you shudder. His teeth were so close to your skin. He could kill you with a single bite.

You felt the same intoxicating mix of lust and fear you’d felt on first seeing Rowan in his enormous wolf’s form. He gave you one last friendly push, and turned to lope back down the path. At the gate, he paused, nodded, and disappeared into the night.

You got a text from Rowan later that night explaining that Lilian was a rogue wolf who had tried to court him a while back, and who had left the pack in anger and shame when he had politely refused her advances. He was mortified that she was now sniffing around your door and putting you in potential danger, but you brushed it off, replying that you wouldn’t be staying much longer anyway.

The thought of returning to the city was almost enough to bring on a panic attack, but you breathed your way through it this time. You’d have your memories of this extraordinary time, and hopefully you could at least keep in touch with the two of them when you left.

Two days later, there was a knock at your door.

You put down the novel you’d been reading, curled up beside the log burner as the afternoon faded to evening, and crossed to the front door of the cottage.

Your heart leapt when you saw Rowan standing there alone, looking sweetly shy. He was taller than you, but the front step of the cottage put you almost at his eye level. He waved once, slightly awkwardly, and held out a piece of paper. You invited him inside, partly because your reading glasses were balanced on the book you’d just abandoned, and partly to be polite. You were struck by how beautiful he was as he paced silently past you.

He watched you put them on, and as you glanced up over the top of the frames, he smiled, tapped his temple and then put his palm over his heart.

“You like my glasses?”

He nodded.

“Well, that makes one of us. Anyway, let me read this. I’m kind of a slow reader though.”

He waved his hand as if to say ‘no worries’, and limped over to the window to stare out at the orchard behind the house. The limp wasn’t as pronounced as you’d expected it to be, but perhaps werewolves healed faster or something.

You turned your eyes back to the note in your hands. It began with your name artlessly scrawled in his terrible handwriting.

I just wanted to drop by and thank you once again before you go home. I hope you don’t think I’m intruding or overstepping.

Honestly, I cannot say what would have happened if you hadn’t brought me inside. I run alone a lot, when I probably shouldn’t. Caleb is always scolding me for going beyond the range of our wolf-communication. When I stumbled into your orchard, I’d been running for what felt like hours from that hunter, and if they’d found me, I’d have been skinned alive and turned into a grizzly rug for their trophy room or something.

I don’t know how I can repay you, since you don’t seem to want anything from me. Please, this is my number. Text me if you ever need anything, and you already have Caleb’s number. Call him too if either of us can ever help you in any way. I’d like to get to know you better. I feel like all we’ve done is talk about ourselves when we’ve been with you. I’m sorry. When do you leave? Where do you live? I hope it’s not far away. We can try to talk more when you’ve read this.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Ever yours, Rowan.

You smiled and looked up, and found him staring at you with those level blue eyes. He saw so much it made you afraid. If he have known you were been a hair’s breadth from cracking, from losing it at the thought of leaving him and Caleb and this wonderful place, he’d probably just have thanked you and walked away. Yet here he was, with those eyes, staring right at you.

It made you want to cry.

He took a step towards you, brows crinkling into a concerned frown. “Ok?” he mouthed silently, his hands forming the word.

You shook your head, tears bubbling up from somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’d thought you’d locked and bolted, shuttered and barred. You’d kept it all at bay, everything, for months. Coming here was supposed to be a break from all that. And yet his overwhelmingly kind eyes pierced right through you and laid you open.

You burst into tears, covering your face with your hands.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, and drew you close to his chest. He threw off heat from his body like a furnace, a comforting scent billowing around you. You cried until you had nothing left in you to cry.

He didn’t let go of you completely as you pulled back, instead thumbing the salt-water from your cheeks and smiling. He stroked your hair back off your stinging face and asked you silently with his whole body if you were better now.

You nodded, apologising, babbling inanities. He placed his finger gently on your lips, shaking his head and smiling. Then he drew your face to his own and kissed you. It was chaste, yet somehow full of feeling. It took your breath away. Made your brain stall and your heart lurch.

You were so surprised, you couldn’t kiss him back. Then you came to your senses and jerked away. “What about Caleb?” you blurted.

He laughed then, a strange sound, raw and real. He tapped his temple with his fingertips.

“He knows?”

He nodded.

“How?”

He moved his palm to his heart and placed the other hand over the top.

“I don’t understand.”

He held up the index finger of his left hand, and the index finger of his right hand. He kept them a foot apart, and then brought them slowly together, mouthing the word, “One.”

“But I don’t understand why you’d kiss me, when you’re with him…”

He rolled his eyes in frustration. He drew out his phone from his pocket and began to type out a text. He showed it to you once he’d sent it.

Caleb, any chance you can come and explain how it’s ok if either of us wants to kiss our new friend if both of us are cool with it? I’m failing spectacularly.

While you were reading it, a reply bounced back. I’m at work for another hour. Any chance you two can amuse yourselves til I get there? Say I’m cool with it if that’s a worry. Say it’s a pack thing maybe? Love you x

“A pack thing?” you asked, looking up at him. “So this is normal for werewolves?”

He made a little side-to-side movement of his head and shrugged. He held up two fingers, nodded, then three, and shrugged again.

“Two’s normal, three is… not uncommon?”

He beamed a smile at you that almost knocked you off your feet. His palms moved back to cup your jaw and he drew closer. Inches from your face, he paused, clearly seeking permission, and you nodded breathlessly.

This time when he pulled away, you smiled giddily. It had been a very long time since anyone had kissed you like that.

He chuffed a little lupine laugh, soundless this time, save for the soft hiss of breath, and jerked his head towards the stairs.

“You really are going to take Caleb up on his suggestion of keeping ourselves amused til he arrives?” you joked as he took your hand and led you up the stairs towards your room.

You had just screamed your second orgasm when you heard the door go. You were in no condition to stand up, let alone answer the door, so you told Rowan that Caleb was there, but he just tapped his temple again.

“You little shit,” you breathed, careful to move your lips enough to let him know what you’d said.

He grinned mischievously. Caleb had kept you waiting, you supposed, so it was only fair that he wait a few moments longer while Rowan kissed the insides of your thighs and nipped playfully at your sensitive hips and pebbled nipples.

When he was finally let in, Caleb smelled sex in the air, and it didn’t take him long to strip Rowan down to match your nakedness.

Rowan came into Caleb’s mouth minutes later with a harsh, primeval cry that echoed off the bare, plastered walls of the bedroom.

Caleb didn’t wait for Rowan to stop twitching before he swallowed him down, and moved to kiss you. You could taste Rowan on his lips and his tongue, and as you raked your nails over Caleb’s incredible pecs with one hand, you reached out to Rowan, still breathing heavily on the bed beside you, and linked fingers with him.

There was no way you would be willing to leave any of this behind.

Masterlist

#werewolf #werewolves #monster #monsters #monster story #poly relationship #deaf werewolf #deaf #deaf character #deaf oc #deaf monster #monster x reader #male monster #male #male monster x reader #my writing

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lyssala · 7 years ago

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You’re Idiots, The Both of You

Pairing: Terra/Aqua, Kingdom Hearts

Setting: A few months after New Year’s; Terra & Aqua are 20 & 19

Rating: K

Notes: I actually rewrote most of this after letting it sit for a few weeks. I didn’t like all of what I had and while I had to get rid of a conversation I did like I feel like this is much less tedious than the first version was haha I always knew this was one of the chapters I’d write and that it would probably go something like this. Them sweet buns always killing me <3

AO3

9. Love

“No. You wanted to talk, so talk. What do you have to say to me?”

“I love you.”

-Rory & Jess

When the snow started to melt and the green grass began to come back, the first flowers in bloom, that’s when Aqua found she missed home the most. They were probably getting ready for the Flower Festival the town always held on the first day of spring. She could almost see them setting up in the town center, the booths, the display pieces. Kairi was probably sitting on the ground with dozens upon dozens of paper flowers made in buckets around her while Riku was slowly filling up his one; Sora and Roxas barely had one half full together and Lea already gave up without making a single one as he napped on the grass instead.

A smile pulled at Aqua’s lips. She remembered when it was her making the paper flowers that would be hung all around with the real flowers under the beautiful designs done by Aerith and her mother. The whole town would be lit up with brightly colored flowers, the sweet smells of spring, the lanterns and lights, the smells of barbeques and fresh made chocolates. It was the opposite of her desk in her dorm room. The only thing that gave it any color or life was the framed picture of her, Terra, and Ven that stood up against the wall and her two Valentine’s Day cards she got from both boys as well.

Ven’s was a silly picture, the word “sister” on the top of the card in gold lines; something he had done since he was little. He wanted to send it to her while she was at school last month so she could get some mail; she loved seeing his neat handwriting on the envelope as well as on the bottom of the card.

Terra’s had more of the cliché Valentine ’s Day colors to it but it was so very carefully picked out that she could almost imagine him standing in the card store for hours looking for the right one to give her for the first time the holiday held romantic value for them. There was red lettering on the inside and out that she knew by heart the amount of times she read it; even though it was suspiciously without one little word, minus the heart by Terra’s name.

She understood. While before they started the romantic end of their relationship telling each other they loved one another was fairly common place but now the word took on new connotations. Neither had said it since then. Aqua knew how she felt, she always knew how she felt but she was careful to understand he might not be there.

She knew she should be at school, working on homework and should absolutely not be in a taxi entering the town limits the Thursday before she was supposed to come home for the weekend. She knew these things, but she honestly didn’t care when she started to see the familiar buildings of her hometown out the window of the car.

She reached over to her phone, hitting it the screen so it would light up. She hadn’t heard from Terra in a little while which probably meant he was working. She absolutely didn’t tell him she kind of hopped in a taxi for two hours just to come home early nor did she tell her parents or anyone really. It was kind of an impulse decision but sitting there at her desk with her notebook open she just couldn’t do it anymore. She missed home and at that point nothing was more important than to just leave. She knew Terra or one of her parents would’ve come and gotten her if she asked, but she hated making them take the long 4 hour round trip just for her; especially Terra who drove up last weekend to visit her already. She even knew she probably wouldn’t even see him for that long since he worked all morning and had class that night but it didn’t matter, she’d be home.

Plus it was admittedly a little exciting to surprise them for once.

Sure enough the town center was bustling with people setting up for the festival. Aqua honestly never thought she’d be happy to see the same people she always saw running around trying to get things ready for the weekend. The taxi stopped and she passed her card up to pay for the trip before grabbing her backpack and opening the door to step outside.

She was hit with the warm afternoon air, the smell of home making her chest feel light. She couldn’t keep a smile off her face as she stood on the sidewalk, watching over the ever busy center. Aqua was also almost right; Kairi and Riku were sitting on the green working diligently on flowers but Namine sat with them as Kairi showed the newer girl how to fold the paper right. Sora and Roxas were there too, though Sora was at least attempting to fold a flower while Roxas kept throwing the ones he made at Xion instead. Lea was unsurprisingly asleep in the grass, a pile of flowers on his chest.

Aqua almost wanted to go over and say hi but there would be plenty of time. Instead she turned to Cid’s where she assumed both her boys were but even before she could open the door, people were coming out. She waited for a second to pop her head inside to see just how busy it was; the answer was very. Apparently people already started coming in for the festival. She slipped herself in the diner and managed to squeeze onto an empty stool in front of the counter in between two other people who were already eating their food. She tried to look around to see the familiar heads of hair but nothing.

“Hi,” an incredibly fake cheery voice said from in front of her. “What can I get you?”

She turned back to the counter to see Ven looking down at his notepad, clearly waiting for an answer. The poor kid looked exhausted; she was afraid to ask him how long he had to work today.

“I’d take a hug for starters.”

Ven blinked up at her, who she was registering in his head. “Aqua, thank God.”

Before she could move, he was already standing in front of her, hugging her so tightly she almost fell into the person next to her. “I missed you too,” she said, wrapping her arms around him to hug him back.

“I thought Terra wasn’t getting you till tomorrow night,” Ven said, though his voice was a little muffled as his face was still in her shoulder.

“Well, surprise.” She gave him a squeeze before he moved to stand in front of her since he was now neglecting his job. “I thought I’d come down early. I miss seeing all the set up for the festival.”

Ven snorted. “I don’t, or all the business it brings.”

“Why cause you have to work?”

“Ventus,” Cid’s voice called from the kitchen. “Are you ever gonna get your ass over here and get these orders.”

“Awwe, Cid, c’mon, Aqua’s here!” Ven shouted back. Some of the out of towners glanced over but most everyone else was used to it.

Cid actually poked his head through the doorway which was kinda rare unless he was yelling at someone.

“Hi, Cid,” Aqua said, raising her hand to wave.

“Hey, kid,” he grunted. “Good to see ya, even if you’ve never paid for a meal here in your life.”

That was probably true or for at least as long as Terra worked here.

“C’mon, Ven, I don’t pay you to talk to girls.”

“You probably should honestly, bet we’d get more business on non-tourist days,” Ven said, but he did move back around the counter. He tapped the space in front of Aqua before grabbing two empty glasses from the people next to her. “Terra just left to do a delivery across the street, bet you could catch him before he leaves.”

“Thanks, Ven,” she said, pushing herself to her feet and give her spot to someone who actually was going to eat. “I’ll see you tonight?”

He gave her a thumbs up, well, tried to with glasses still in his hands. “You got it, Aqua.”

“Ventus,” Cid called from back in the kitchen.

“I’m coming, old man, God, so demanding.” Ven gave her another smile and a wave as she headed out the front door.

It smelt delicious in there, yeah, but it was nice to be able to breathe again in the fresh air. She scanned over the green and the nearby sidewalks to see if she could see Terra anywhere. The kids were still working on the flowers in the center of the green (“working” used lightly as now it only seemed like Kairi and Namine were doing anything productive) and there were plenty of familiar faces walking by, just not the one Aqua wanted to see.

She supposed he might’ve already headed home in which wasn’t terrible but it would ruin the surprise a little when she had to ask him to come back to town to pick her up. Honestly she hadn’t thought any of this through but it really didn’t matter.

There! Across the street at the post office she could easily see Terra’s back, the length of his shoulders, the way his hair fell in layers down the back of his head. He was talking to someone though she couldn’t really see who from her angle. Aqua checked the street to make sure no one was coming before she hurried across to the other sidewalk. She thought maybe she could do something cute and try to scare him since she always had a hard time sneaking up on him to begin with but the closer she got to him the more she didn’t want to prolong it. Yeah, okay, it hadn’t even really been four days since she last saw him but that was a lot when she used to see him every day.

Terra still hadn’t turned around as some lady chatted his ear off. Aqua could almost hear his internal monologue of him hoping to God this person would stop talking so he could walk away and stop pretending to be a social person.

Aqua bit her lip to try and hide her smile when he was within her reach. She didn’t want to be dramatic, but she just missed his warm presence, his familiar smell, and she couldn’t help herself. She swung her arms around his waist and unceremoniously squished her face into the back of his shoulder. She breathed a small sigh; that was so much better.

Terra jumped a little, probably not expecting anyone to lunge themselves at him from behind, but honestly, it wouldn’t be the first time someone did let alone her. He turned his head to look over his shoulder but by now he had to know it was her.

Aqua peeked her eyes up to him, her smile still buried into his t-shirt.

Whoever had been talking to him either stopped or left but she had no idea which it was because she could only see his blue eyes, the way his lips twitched upwards as the sight of her. “Surprise,” she said as she stood up on her toes to try and put her chin on his shoulder.

“What a surprise,” he said, though not without some amusement in his eyes. “Dare I ask how you got here?”

“Nope.” She knew he was only teasing; it was easy to tell with the look on his face. “Stop complaining.”

Terra started to turn around causing her to let go of him and step back but she didn’t get very far when his arms were around her waist, pulling her back. “Never.” He leaned down some to kiss her as she reached her arms up around his neck.

That was much better, so much more so than still being at school.

While admittedly sometimes she still felt like whenever they were in public all eyes were on them (mainly because it was true), other times she didn’t care. This was one of those times. Aqua squeaked in surprise when she felt her feet pull off the ground some as he picked her up. On habit she almost kicked her legs around him, but she stopped herself knowing that would only give her unwanted comments, or unwanted comments to her parents. Instead she waited till he put her down, leaning in for another quick kiss before he let go of her.

Aqua turned so she could walk by his side, his hand extended for her to take. She laced her fingers through his as they started to walk down the sidewalk though where to she didn’t know, nor did she care.

“So what brought on the sudden surprise,” Terra asked. He still seemed lighthearted but she knew he was asking her if something was wrong, if something happened that made her want to leave by herself.

“I just didn’t wanna be there anymore,” she said. “Nothing happened or anything like that. It was just, I dunno, I missed you, I missed this.” Aqua used her free hand to wave over the green and the streets.

“You missed what?” he snorted. “Everyone going crazy over a festival? Or Kairi doing all the work and the others just goofing off? Cause, Aqua, you can come back any day and find that.”

She reached over to hit at his arm. “You know what I mean. I was just, dunno, homesick. Even one day felt too long.”

He squeezed her hand but didn’t disagree. “Ever thought you’d be homesick for this place?”

The answer was yes, but she knew Terra didn’t always view their home the same way she did. “Sometimes you don’t know what you have till it’s not there all the time.”

Someone was yelling in the green, though from Aqua’s angle she could only see the kids which meant it was probably some event committee member telling them to stop goofing off. The moment the stern talking stopped, Roxas, who was still watching the person intently, tossed the flower in his hand right at Lea’s face which had Sora and Xion in giggle fits again. The yelling resumed once more.

“Are you positive about that?” Terra said.

Aqua laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked amongst the rest of the locals going about their day and more of the early bird tourists wandering. “Where’re we going?”

“Dunno, I’m off for the rest of the day till class tonight.”

She didn’t think passed the taxi ride and finding Terra, both of which she did. This was nice though. It was a little chilly, but the sun was out, the spring feel to the air, and despite the kids messing around the festival was starting to come together. There was just something about being home with the people you loved.

She looked up to Terra who was looking off into the distance, but probably not at anything in particular. He definitely smelt like he had been working all morning, the fryer smell always clung to him no matter what he did. She knew he hated but she honestly didn’t mind it; mainly cause it reminded her of him. It was familiar, he was, this street was, Roxas and Lea taking nothing seriously was, Sora pretending he did for Kairi’s sake was, the local kids laughter was, Cid’s was, it was home and she loved it. She loved this and she knew she loved Terra. It wasn’t a question in her mind.

They had their history sure, they knew each other better than anyone else long before they ever started a romantic relationship but this, this right here just walking by him and holding his hand down the sidewalk is what she always wanted. It was simple, but she loved it. This was what she wanted.

The words were out of her mouth before she even had a chance to stop them.

“Terra, I love you.”

Which wasn’t in the slightest bit how she wanted to tell him or even how she wanted to say it, but there they were. A part of her felt relieved to finally say it, but the other part of her was terrified as he hadn’t made any indication he even heard her.

Did she say it again? Did she let it go and write it off as he wasn’t ready or maybe didn’t even hear her? Before she could get herself too much in a panic he hummed, seemingly in response.

Not quite the response she had in mind, but he at least didn’t look upset. Before she could babble on about how it was okay if he didn’t feel the same way about her like she rehearsed in her head for this very moment, he turned to her, a sort of smile on his lips.

“I love you too, you know.”

She wanted to feel relieved and elated and happy but it wasn’t the first time he told her that. Now that she said it, she just had to make sure he knew. “I mean, really, really. I’m in love with you.”

“Aqua,” he snorted, stopping where they were so he could reach his hands up to her face, probably in an effort to get her to stop. “I know what you meant. I know what I meant too.”

She watched his face, the one she knew so well. It changed a lot over the years, but somethings never changed. His eyes were always the same shape, the same shade of blue and his smile was always familiar, how it brought out the dimples on his cheeks. His hands were warm on her face, soft, gentle. It was all she ever wanted, this was all she wanted her whole life. Maybe she always knew, but there was no doubt in her mind right here and right now.

It was him.

Aqua leaned forward, closing the space between them till his lips were pressed to his. Terra chuckled against her slightly but easily melted into it. This time, she really didn’t care who saw.

#terraqua #kingdom hearts #terra kingdom hearts #aqua kingdom hearts #my fics:kh #modernaukh #bothofyou #I'm gonna be super slammed at work cause I was out for a week #so you may get more of these in a row since I have so many written lmao

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blacklilyqueen · 7 years ago

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Letters from beyond

I was actually writing a different story, but then I had this idea and had to write it.

Summary: Post Askaban Sirius finds some old letters from Marlene at Grimmauld Place

Pairing: Blackinnon

Warnings: angst, drinking, implied depression, mentions of abuse

Word Count: 1,5K

There was a dead silence at 12 Grimmauld Platz. Walburga Black's portrait was quiet for once, Kreacher had crawled into some corner, the children wouldn’t return from Hogwarts for another month and the remaining members of the order were now back home, at work or on a secret mission. One could have thought the house was deserted, but Sirius Black was sitting on one of the chairs in the messy kitchen. In front of him stood an almost empty bottle of fire whiskey, from which he had just poured himself another glass. His grey eyes stared expressionlessly into the void as he continued to drink. This was not the first evening he just sat there, drank and hoped not to feel anything and it was certainly not the last. It didn't take long before the bottle was finally empty and he called out for Kreacher, who, however, didn't show up. He got up cursing the house elf and had to support himself at the kitchen table to avoid falling over immediately. With shaky steps he made his way to get a new bottle, but already had great difficulties to walk straight ahead. His stumbling walk finally became his doom in the hallway as he tried to hold on to a curtain for support to not go down, but tore it down and revealed the portrait of his mother. It didn't take her a second to scream and nag. When she saw Sirius, she became even more angry.

"FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR! YOU BRING SHAME TO MY FAMILY'S HOUSE! I'LL MAKE SURE YOU WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN! HOW DARE YOU BE HERE, YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE..."

But Sirius certainly no longer listened. He had already had to listen to her tirade three times today alone and he just couldn't stand any more of it. Knowing that he alone would not be able to silence her again, he tried to escape her voice on one of the upper floors. He tried getting upstairs as quickly as his drunken state allowed him, his mother's voice still echoing in his head. To finally hide from her, he locked himself in the first room without paying much attention to which room it was. For a second he felt something like relief when he was out of reach of the terrible voice, but as soon as he realized in which room he was, his mood dropped. Without wanting to, he had ended up in his parents' former bedroom. The sight of their things almost made him sick. His mother's jewellery on the dresser right next to her wedding photo, his father's shoes, which stood neatly next to the wardrobe and no one felt the need to remove them after his death, or his belt dangling off a back of a chair. Suddenly thousands of memories came to Sirius’ mind and he was boiling over with rage. Without having any control over what happened to him, he hit his fist against the large wall mirror. It burst into thousands of pieces, some of which were drilled into Sirius' hand, whereupon it began to bleed. But he was so angry that he didn't even notice the pain. Instead, he began to destroy the room even more, tore everything off the dresser, knocked down a shelf and devastated everything completely.

He was about to move on when he noticed a small pile of letters that must have fallen from one of the back corners of the shelf. The strange thing was that they were all addressed to him, but he had never seen them. He picked them up and looked at them more closely, noticing that they were already open, but he was sure that he had not been the one who had opened them. To find out from whom the letter came, he took one of the letters from the envelope and immediately felt, as if someone had stabbed a knife right into his heart. He knew the ornate handwriting all too well and a look at the end of the letter confirmed his suspicion. He felt all the strength leaving his body, his legs weakening as he sank to the ground. Shocked, he stared at the place where Marlene's name was written in the familiar font. A memory suddenly appeared in his mind. Marlene, as she had waited for him before the beginning of her fifth school year at the platform 9 ¾ and asked him completely surprised why he had never answered her letters. Sirius had no idea what she was talking about at the time, had told her that he had not received any of her letters. Back then he had the feeling that his mother had intercepted them, but he was never completely sure. Completely stunned, he began to read the letter, which now had to be twenty years old.

Dear padfoot,

I hope you enjoy your holidays as much as we all do. Hopefully your mother doesn't ruin them too much for you. Doe, Remus and I want to meet this weekend at Diagon Alley. Do you want to join us? I guess you're not at home most of the time anyway or hiding out in your room to avoid your family. I know they're terrible, but you'll be rid of them soon. Don't let what they say get too close to you. You know just as well as I do that what they say is not true, so you shouldn't worry about it, you're better than them anyway. Anyway, just come to me, if you need someone to talk to.

Love

Marlene

Sirius didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was absurd. This letter was a clear reminder that Marlene was gone forever and that she would never return, yet these few lines of a dead were more helpful than anything the entire Order had said to him in the past year. He carefully folded the letter, put it back in the envelope and began to read the second letter and the third and fourth, until only one letter was left. Gradually more and more memories came to his mind. He remembered their first kiss when they weren't even together. They were all sitting in the boys' dormation playing truth or dare when James dared Sirius to kiss Marlene. He remembered numerous nights when neither he nor Marlene could sleep and they just sat and talked for hours in the common room. He remembered Marlene's laughter, which could be heard from far away and which made him laugh too all the time. He remembered the small apartment that the two shared after graduating from school and which was actually nothing special, but still perfect for the two of them. He remembered James trying to teach Sirius that Marlene was gone forever. He remembered the funeral and sitting in front of her grave crying for hours. He remembered the guilt that plagued him and how he kept telling himself that he could have saved her, could have stopped her. He remembered the pain that could still be felt years later. He remembered how much he loved her, that he would never see her again and that all that was left of her were these five letters. Everything came up at once and he couldn't help but cry. But he wiped the tears from his face and turned his eyes to the last letter and began to read.

Dear Sirius,

is everything okay at home? You didn't answer my last letters, I hope nothing bad happened. There were rumours about several people who disappeared without a trace and I was worried, even though purebloods probably don’t have to worry that much. I met Lily yesterday, she said that the Muggles start to realize something's wrong. Her parents are also worried and her sister frightens her and tells her that it would be all Lily's fault if something happened to one of them. I can't believe the Ministry isn't doing anything about it! Have you heard the rumour that Dumbledore is putting some people together to fight you know who? At least someone who has a plan. Imagine if we were a part of it, would actually help to make a difference and not just sit around useless. It would be great to join them after school. There's a war going on out there and there's nothing we can do. My parents would probably go crazy if they knew what I was going to do, would lecture me on how dangerous that is. But let's be real, what's life without a little risk?

Love

Marlene

#blackinnon #sirius x marlene #sirius black x marlene mckinnon #marlene mckinnon #marlius #sirius black #marauders era #marauders #padfoot #mwpp #mwpp era #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #marlene x sirius #marlene mckinnon x sirius black

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cawfulkiller-blog · 7 years ago

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@ontodeath ordered one short of Mori and Lyon studying and this is what i came up with ~ 1,910 words. hope you like it <3

The laboratory Prince Lyon had set aside for research into dark magic was something amazing. It was re-purposed from one of the smaller guest chambers. As the emperor's health was failing, he had no need for visitors, and the castle contained many rooms besides to house any that may come to pay respects or offer aid.

In peacetime, neither were very necessary. The prince got away with stealing these chambers for his own needs, and he got away with keeping the terrible secret of the horrors performed within only because his researchers liked him well, and he was of a kind and quiet temperament. Such a gentle prince could never do something so vile.

All the books they could find regarding the subject were relocated to these rooms, set upon bookshelves that looked, in Moritura's opinion, far too empty. It was almost too dark to read them, even, in the room, because in their care they had drawn thick curtains over the windows. All guest chambers in the castle overlooked the smaller of the two courtyards, and the flowers were still attended to daily by maids and gardeners. Lyon didn't want them to peek inside and see what was going on.

The real wonderment in the room was elsewhere, naturally, held inside runes and sigils carved in various places. For instance, the door frame to the hallway had carefully scratched runes, carved by the Prince himself. He said it would prevent those who didn't like dark magic from growing curious about this room. In Moritura's excitement she had never noticed if it worked, but if that was Lyon's intent in carving them (she could feel that, at least) then it definitely worked as he said.

Her favorite thing about the laboratory was hidden under a thick tarp. Even though it was out of sight, the circle beneath it gave off waves of an uneasy feeling. Each researcher in the room confessed feeling like they were being watched, even if left alone in the room, and to uncover the circle was to grant any who looked at it a visceral feeling of sickness. It was how they performed most of their experiments. Even though it made Moritura uncomfortable, she knew it to be a great step forward in their field, and each time she was forced to stare at its terribleness, she grew excited for the results they might see next.

Lyon wouldn't let her participate directly in what he called their revolutionary experiments, but Mori never felt as though he was babying her. He still explained each concept and experiment, whether or not she'd be allowed to participate, and asked if she had any suggestions or ideas regarding the theory.

It was the highest of compliments, coming from him. No matter how many times he might have suggested otherwise, it was common knowledge in their little circle that Lyon was the most gifted practitioner of dark magic. He would often deflect compliments or suggest another mage be put on a pedestal, but at the end of the day he spun curses as easily as he drew breath, and it was he alone who seemed the least perturbed by some of the horrors they commit in the name of science.

Mori even swore that she could feel the darkness on him when he was nearby, and she was in the process of testing this hypothesis every interaction with him. Another score against him – he sat down in front of her at the table, and she could feel it, so she raised her head to meet his gaze.

She had been staring, furtive and pointless, at a blank page in a blank book.

“Is that the empty tome I gave you?” the prince asked. He smiled sweetly, shifting to place down a stack of parchments and careful not to spill his cup of tea over it.

“Yeah...” Mori replied. He probably expected her to have filled it by now, but she hadn't so much as touched it in that regard yet.

“Don't know where to start?” He took the words from her mouth with a small giggle, hidden demurely behind one hand.

“That's exactly it!” she said, maybe too enthusiastically. She tried to settle in her chair. “I mean... This is a lot of blank canvas, and I've never written a tome before.”

As far as she knew, neither had any other researcher here, except for Lyon, probably, who was in all likelihood a master at it without even trying.

“It seems like a lot to start with, I know,” he replied. “But you can definitely do it. You just need to figure out what you want it to become, first.”

Mori definitely didn't have that.

“Have you been brainstorming?”

She looked back down to the blank pages opened before her, as she had several times before. She wanted to end with a spell that was uniquely hers, but she also wanted one she could be proud of, one that Lyon would be proud of, too. Those constraints didn't exactly narrow down her options, though.

“I've been trying,” she answered. “But there's so many ideas...”

“I know the feeling,” Lyon responded. He kept a serene smile on his face as he shuffled through the papers he'd put on the table. “I've been writing one of my own, but the methodology is so different to write novelty spells opposed to combat...”

Every word out of Lyon's mouth was inspired, it seemed. Each one gave another glimpse at how brilliant he really was.

“What do you mean novelty?”

Lyon prefaced his answer with a small giggle. “I have no interest in a tome meant simply for hurting some one – as most tomes are made. I see no reason why you can't make a tome meant for healing. We have a methodology for Nosferatu right? So... I've been working on something like that.”

“Can I see it?” Mori didn't mean to ask, assuming the answer would be a flat 'no', but it tumbled out before she could stop it.

Lyon blushed, the gentle smile he usually held faded, and he averted his gaze. “I-I suppose that wouldn't be an issue... Actually...”

He didn't finish his thought before standing and directing her to stay seated, that he would be right back. It felt entirely too long before he returned – Moritura's whole body was wired with excitement at the thought she'd get to see one of his most personal ventures.

When he returned, he placed the book beside her, and quietly moved a second chair to sit next to her, so that they would both be able to look at it at the same time.

The front of the tome was gorgeous, or so Mori thought, but it seemed fitting that such an amazing scientist and the prince himself would have such a pretty tome. She reached to touch it, but he opened it to the first pages before she had the chance.

“I'm a bit stuck myself, you see,” he explained, carefully turning to the next page. “And since very few of the other researchers even agree with me that we can rewrite tomes and create new sigils at our own necessity, I don't expect much help from the others.”

“Oh...” It was hard to believe that some one as brilliant as Lyon might be stuck, too, but at the same time oddly comforting. Certainly this meant he was far from disappointed that she hadn't even begun to write her own tome...

“Anyway,” he continued hastily. “Go ahead and read it. I'm afraid it will probably be above your skill level, but all spells have the same roots, so it isn't inconceivable you'd understand some of it anyway.”

Moritura tried. She didn't need more of an invitation. Unfortunately, Lyon was correct in his assumption. Some of the words and even letters they were written in were completely foreign to her eyes, and though she tried to stumble through mouthing the sentences quietly to herself, it was much more difficult than she thought.

It didn't dismay her, though. Instead, she found herself grinning at the prince's brilliance, and that she was able to bear witness to it. Even...

Halfway through another difficult paragraph she stopped, stared, and pouted. “That's...”

She pointed, very deliberately, at a single word. Lyon's handwriting was crisp and clear, easily legible, and yet he had either smudged a rune here, or... “I think this is mispelt.”

“What?”

Lyon hurriedly pushed into her, rather awkwardly, in order to peer over her shoulder at the word she was pointing at. Mori turned to look at his face. He pouted, too.

“You're... right,” he said. There was disappointment in his voice. “I... I mispelt that.”

His fingers pushed hers out of the way gently, tracing his work again. He murmured something that Moritura couldn't make out before shifting, pulling away from her, and completely turning away entirely.

“Uhm... When you're finished with this, please give it back. I've got some things I should edit in it and...”

He faced her again. “Well, I'm a little embarrassed, but.... I should thank you for your insight, I didn't realize...”

Mori shut the book gently and pushed it onto the table. Almost instantly did Lyon take it back from her.

“Can a spelling mistake really change so much?” she asked.

Lyon's face was pink now. He clutched his tome to his chest and offered an obviously forced smile to her. “Yes, well... That, and I should make sure I haven't mispelt anything else... It... Could really change the meaning or intent behind my actions... In ways that I would have no knowledge of...”

“You still wrote a tome, Prince Lyon. That's so cool!”

“I'm writing a tome,” he corrected, dismissively. “It's still, clearly, a work in progress.”

They stood at the same time. She was wired with excitement and energy and he merely pressed his tome to his chest. She smiled because she thought it was funny.

“I know it's going to be amazing, Your Highness! I just hope I can make something you think is cool too!!”

He chuckled weakly. “Yes, Mori, I'm sure I will... Did, uhm... I just... You...”

Mori's head canted to one side. “It's just a spelling mistake. It's really hard to remember all the runes, plenty of people mess up just reading them.” Mori didn't, though, and Lyon most certainly didn't. “I need to calm down before I start writing, I'm sure I'll have plenty!”

“Right,” Lyon replied, clipping the word off sharply with his teeth. “I, uhm... You'll do wonderful, Mori. I know it.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

She sprung forward then, suddenly, pulling Lyon into a tight, friendly hug. The prince froze. She could feel him stiffen in her arms, but he almost instantly relaxed. She pulled away before he could wrest his arm from in between them and offer a hug back.

“Sorry!”

“I-it's fine. Uhm... I do think I'll step out to the courtyard... I'll be there if you... need me.”

“You're leaving?” Mori looked over to the papers and ink Lyon had been ready to deal with before. “What about..?”

Lyon smiled unconvincingly. “It'll be here for me when I return. Erm... Have a nice day, okay?”

“You too, Your Highness! I'll get right to work!”

#⛼ | one shot ( one kill )#ontodeath #sorry this took so fucking long lmao #i'll reblog it on lyon next time i'm on him #i hope you like it

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depressed-alone · 7 years ago

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Beacuse tumblr is bein mean and doesn't let me publish the story if it's an answer to an ask I'll have to do it like this. Hope you enjoy lol. ANGST. THIS IS SUPER ANGSTY. SUPER SAD. ONLY READ IF YOU WANNA CRY. (I mean i almost cried when writing it) Mention of depression, anxiety, lots of crying. Pairings: None. Maybe platonic Logicality Entry no. 1 Feelings. The bane of my existense. Unnecessary. Useless. Complicated. I haven't been affected by them for the past 28 years. I had some slip ups when I was younger but now I am in perfect control over them. The other three seemed to have them. They always showed some kind of emotion. Patton was mostly the emotions. I need to find out what is so great about emotions. I need to find out more about emotions. Entry no. 10 I have failed many times. I've been trying to study emotions. I looked up everything I could. And yet I can't find anything. I need a plan. Entry no. 16 Something terrible happened. This was a risk I took when I decided I will study emotions. I've been affected by them. I started to have feelings. I need to find names for my feelings. I don't understand them. It's getting out of control. Entry no. 20 I found a name for one of my many confusing feelings. Loneliness. Loneliness: /ˈləʊnlɪnɪs/ noun sadness because one has no friends or company. I never knew this was something I could feel. I have been alone for so many years. And now I have a name for it. Interesting. Frustrating. Confusing. Entry no. 25 Weird. Since I found out I have been feeling lonely I feel down. Feel. Feeling down. This must be a new emotion. Sadness: /'sadnəs/ noun noun: sadness; plural noun: sadnesses the condition or quality of being sad. Sad: /sad/ adjective adjective: sad; comparative adjective: sadder; superlative adjective: saddest feeling or showing sorrow; unhappy. I heard Patton talking about this. When he watched a so called 'sad-movie'. Sadness followed crying. But I've never cried in my life. So I'm not feeling sad. Sadness-Incorrect Entry no. 29 I have been experiencing a new kind of emotion. It is oddly weird. It must be a bad emotion like sadness or loneliness. I don't understand it. Love: /lʌv/ noun noun: love; plural noun: loves 1. a strong feeling of affection. 2. a great interest and pleasure in something. verb verb: love; 3rd person present: loves; past tense: loved; past participle: loved; gerund or present participle: loving 3. feel deep affection or sexual love for (someone). Have I been feeling this for weeks? Months? Years? I always had this weird somewhat would say 'warm' feeling when the others were around. Is this love? I doubt it. I need to test it out. Somehow. Entry no. 31 I haven't left my room for a month now. The others haven't searched for me. Not even Patton after a week. He gave up. Everyone gave up. Disappointment: /dɪsəˈpɔɪntm(ə)nt/ noun: disappointment sadness or displeasure caused by the non-fulfilment of one's hopes or expectations. I thought they would care more. They were emotions didn't they think I have been feeling lonely? I should get out of my room. But they wouldn't want me around anymore. They hate me. I'm afraid to go outside. Fear: /fɪə/ noun: fear; plural noun: fears an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm. Anxiety: /aŋˈzʌɪəti/ noun: anxiety; plural noun: anxieties a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease about something with an uncertain outcome. Negative emotions. Again. Will I ever experience positive emotions? Entry no. 35 Sadness: /'sadnəs/ noun: sadness; plural noun: sadnesses the condition or quality of being sad. I cried. I cried today. I didn't know I was capable of crying. Another negative emotion. I don't think I will ever get any of the positive emotions. Sadness-Correct Entry no. 42 I have cried a lot today. Or in the past week. I have been crying all day. I broke down crying on my desk. I don't understand it. I have been feeling. Nothing. I'm back at where I was. Depression: /dɪˈprɛʃ(ə)n/ noun: depression feelings of severe despondency and dejection. I need a rest. I haven't slept for weeks. I need to clear my head. There are too many emotions. Too many things I don't understand. I need a break. Logan closed his diary. He really needed to just take a break from every emotion. He needed relaxation. He looked at his clock. 4 a.m. Perfect. No one will be awake at this hour. Even Virgil went to sleep at 3 a.m. usually. He can go outside without any of them noticing. Maybe he can even watch Tv. He hasn't done that in over a month. He missed the shows about space and science. Maybe he could try to imagine a starry sky in the commons room. Maybe he could just stargaze for a bit. He quietly opened his door and went down the stairs to where the kitchen and the commons room were. A coffee couldn't hurt, right? He made his coffee quickly and went into the commons room. He sat down on the couch and turned on the Tv. He found the channel he usually watched if he was alone. He quietly sipped his coffee and relaxed. When he finished his cup of coffee he sat down in front of the couch where the soft carpit was actually pretty comfortable. He layed down and stared at the celiling. He thought of a clear, starry sky. After a few minutes of thinking the ceiling turned into exactly what he imagined for himself. It was relaxing. He never stargazed without writing notes. But he didn't have his notebook with him and he definitely wasn't going to stand up just to go and get it. He didn't mean to fall asleep. He knew he can't fall asleep beacuse then the others would find him. But he was too comfortable. Too relaxed. Too tired. So he quickly fell asleep on the ground. ~ When Patton woke up the others were usually still asleep. This is why he found it odd that Logan's door was open. And Logan haven't been out of his room for a month. Did he finally came out of there? Is he okay? He opened the door further more just to see an empty but very messy room. Logan, who usually kept everything neatly in place and order had the messiest room out of all four of them now. Which was unusual as Virgil's room was complete chaos. He saw a diary on Logan's desk. The desk was a mess, papers, books everywhere. But nothing was around the black diary. He went closer just to see what was written on it. Study of Emotions Did Logan stay in his room to study emotions? For a whole month?! Why didn't he just asked Patton or Virgil or maybe even Roman? He knew it was a bad thing to do. He knew he shouldn't open it. But he had to. Maybe he can help Logan with the things he found. He opened the little book and saw Logan's neat handwriting. Everything perfectly written. No scribbles. No smudges. Just pure perfection. He read the first entry, then the second and so on. When he got to the end he was crying. He felt horrible. He wasn't there for Logan. He didn't help him. He gave up. And Logan noticed. Logan cried. Logan was depressed. He quickly shut the diary and went into the commons room. He had to sit down, he had to calm down, he didn't want to tell the others just yet. But when he got there he found Logan on the floor sleeping. He looked relaxed. A coffee mug was on the coffee table. The Tv was on, volume turned almost fully down on Logan's favourite channel. He looked so peaceful. He didn't want to wake him. But he had to. He made a coffee first, beacuse he knew the other would appreciate it. He then went back to where Logan was still on the floor, put the mug down on the coffee table and gently shook the other's shoulders. "Leave me aloneee" Logan whined still clearly asleep. Patton would have chuckled, maybe he even would have left the other side to sleep a bit more but they had things to talk about. They had to talk about emotions. "Lo you must be really tired, I don't think you slept much but we need to talk." He said as he shook the other again. Logan slowly opened his eyes to see pair of worried eyes. "Oh-oh apologise. I-I didn't mean to fall asleep here. I'll.. I'll just go back to my room. I have some work to finish." He said as he stood up from the floor. "Nuh-uh you are staying Logan. We need to talk about something." Patton said as he sat down on the couch and patted the space next to him. "Sit down please." "We-we don't have anything to talk about. My work is-is rather important so please Patton if you would just let me go." Logan tried to force himself out of Patton's grip on his wrist but he was too tired, and too weak. "Emotions" Patton said and looked at Logan. The logical trait couldn't look into Patton's eyes. He must have found his diary. He must have read it. But he was Morality. He knew reading other's personal stuff was wrong. So he wouldn't do it. It was just a guess. When Patton still didn't let go of his wrist he sighed in defeat and sat down next to the older trait. "I read it. The whole thing. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I gave up. I'm sorry that I disappointed you. I'm sorry. For everything." Patton said. Logan looked up to meet Patton's eyes that were starting to water. "I..I'm sorry too." The logical one said an broke down crying. Patton hugged him and he quickly returned the hug. His loneliness was no longer there. He wasn't lonely anymore. He had Patton to hug him. To hold him. To protect him. "We will fix this I promise" Patton said as he cried into the other's shoulders. They were both crying, their emotions out of control, in a chaos but Logan didn't care. He wasn't lonely anymore. He wasn't afraid that the others would hate him. He didn't feel sad even though he was crying. It was a different kind of crying. He wasn's disappointed anymore. He felt something. The warm feeling he only felt when he was around one of the others. He felt Love. A/n: IM SORRY ALRIGHT THIS GOT SO FUCK DEPRESSING I ALMOST STARTED TO CRY WHILE WRITING THIS I FEEL FUCKING HORRIBLE I LITERALLY JUST JESUS CHRIST KILL ME. So uhm yeah angstttttt. Cool huh? This was an experience to write thats for sure. Also thanks tumblr for bein a total asshole bc now none of the words are how I want it but sure alright its fine like this. If you wanna read it in a somewhat better quality then I suggest my wattpad for you where I have a little sanders sides one shot book that you can read btw. Here's the link for my oneshot book on wattpad: https://my.w.tt/UiNb/IzwcA4nGWG Tagging some people hope its okay i just wanna know what you think? I hope its okayy. @romananalogicality @pirate-patton @mewsicalmiss @emeliethetimelady @notjustaterran

#logan writes #sanders sides #logan sanders #logic sanders #patton sanders #morality sanders #fic #tw depressing stuff #tw depression #tw anxeity #angst #sanders sides angst #im sorry this is sad af #logicality #platonic logicality

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jumpingkeito · 7 years ago

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It’s (Not) Destiny Part One

Title: It’s Not Destiny (Part One)

Pairing: Hikaru/Reader/Yabu

Genre: Angst, Soulmate AU

“Listen to me. ___, listen.” a voice echoed in your ear. You looked up to find the source but there was no one. “___!” they called, but there was nothing. Just you on the rusted swing, in the abandoned park. “Hello?” you cried out into the emptiness.

Hello hello hello. Your voice echoed.

You woke up. It was just a dream, you thought, shaking your head. You could still hear the echo in your head. That person calling your name. They sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t remember why. Your clock told you it was 7:30 AM. Just enough time to make it to your first class of the day.

“Ugh I hate this class.” you groaned while walking out of the classroom. A few acquaintances nodded their heads beside you, but said nothing to you. The class was terrible. Not particularly because of the subject, but more because of the professor.

The professor was unprofessional. He did not know how to teach. He spent the class explaining his teaching methods instead if actually teaching. He would never answer questions in class, claiming the were a waste of time, and that those with questions should see him after class. But after class he dismissed them with a wave, saying that he had to go a prepare for his next class. The worst part was?

He didn’t know that he was doing a bad job. You silently cursed as you dropped your textbooks.

“Need a hand?” Someone bent down to help you. You looked up to see your best friend, Hikaru. “No I just dropped my books on purpose.” you replied, smiling. “Miss Sarcasm strikes again.” he whistled, standing up and walking to your locker, your other books in hand. You groaned as you slammed your locker shut. Hikaru chuckled in amusement.

“Bad class?” he asked, grinning. “Do you even need to ask?” you sighed, exasperated. “I guess not. Come on, it’s lunch time, we don’t want to have our table get taken.” He ushered you away to the cafeteria.

The two of you sat at your regular table, chattering away while spooning mushy food into your mouths. Occasionally girls would ask to sit, wanting to flirt with Hikaru, but you would shoo them away cleverly. And Hikaru would just laugh. That’s when your other best friend arrived. Her class ended a little later than the two of yours did.

“Hey Nina.” you waved as she arrived at the table. “Hey___! This is my boyfriend, Yabu Kota. Hikka you know him already.” she gestured to the man standing beside her with a smile. “No way! You’re dating Nina? How come I never knew this?” he exclaimed, upset. “We tried to keep it low profile until we were sure this was going to work out.” Yabu replied. “Typical Kota.” Hikaru huffed, but made space for him nonetheless.

You froze. That voice… It can’t be.

“___! Move over I need to sit here.” Nina shoved you lightly. “Sorry sorry!” you laughed and moved aside. Your mind was spinning 90 miles per second. You felt sick. “___? You okay?” Hikka waved in your face, bringing you back to attention. “Huh? Oh sorry, I spaced out.” you smiled sheepishly.

The bell rang.

“See you around guys! Nice meeting you Yabu!” you ran off, stomach lurching. Playing the sick card you excused yourself and went home.

Since a kid, the law of Soulmates had been embedded into their minds. Everyone knew what they were. Yet even so, you accessed the official government document on Soulmates. You wanted to be sure.

And surely enough your memory was correct. The document read:

All persons born is tied to a soulmate. Although there are many ways to find your soulmate, the most common way is through your dreams. In your dreams you will be revealed one thing about your soulmate repeatedly. For example: voice, eyes, birthday, initials, handwriting, etc.

There are instances where a person finds their soulmate, but he/she isn’t the soulmate of the other. This is called a loose tie. It is a common issue, and people think that they will only be truly happy with their soulmate. While that seems true, there are too many people with loose ties in the world, therefore many people cannot be ‘truly’ happy. Remember that happiness does not come with the word soulmate. They are unrelated.

You sighed. Am I a loose tie? You thought, lamenting. But you couldn’t be sure. After all, some people date one another even though they are not soulmates.

But one thing you knew for sure. Yabu was your soulmate.

“Hikka.” you said as the two of you sat together in a quaint coffee shop across from campus.

“Hm?” he looked up from his notes to look at you. “I found my soulmate.” you said. “Who?” his eyes widened. You looked nervous. “Yabu.” “No way!” he yelled. A waitress shushed him. “Yes way. Also you seem more upset than I thought you would be.” you murmured. “That’s because I…” He trailed off. “I?” you questioned. “Nevermind.” He shook his head. “But Yabu is dating Nina. Could they perhaps not be soulmates?” “I don’t know.” you groaned, throwing your head back.

Just then the door opened, the bell tinkling lightly. You both looked towards the door to see Nina and Yabu walk in, hand-in-hand. You let out another muffled groan.

Nina waved, before the two of them went to a covert corner of the shop, placing orders to the waitress. Then they huddled close to each other and started talking is low whispers.

“Why don’t we ask? If they’re soulmates.” Hikaru smirked. “Hika, no!” You shook your head. But being a moron, he walked over to them and asked anyway. “Yes!” Nina replied enthusiastically, Yabu nodding beside her.

You felt your heart sink. Just your luck. Hika smiled but as soon as he turned away, a deep frown settled on his face.

“You okay?” he patted you. You just nodded lamely. “Let’s get out of here.” He helped you up and the two of you left the couple and the coffee shop, making your way to his house.

“You never told them about your soulmate?” Yabu asked Nina as her two friends left the shop. Nina just shook her head, her eyes darkening.

“There’s no reason to.”

#hey! say! jump #hey say jump #yabu kota #yaotome hikaru #soulmates #angst #story idea #ooh #inspiration #hopefully #:)#It's (not) destiny

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bornfromscarletcords · 6 years ago

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Haven Illuminating: A Wolf Paradise Story

Hi so I finished writing a trilogy of books; The Shackled Wolf Chronicles. I think it was a solid story but I still felt there was some room for future developments with the world and the characters. You could say I wanted to give them another chance at true happiness or something. So this is the beginnings of a fourth book which will ideally provide them with a worthy legend, a personal paradise. It didn’t start out exactly how I expected but I’ve enjoyed writing it so far. Here is an excerpt from what I’ve written.

Greetings, you may know me as N, though I’ve been called any number of things before. I’m what you might call an Angel of stories, though many people are weary of me because instead of being good or bad I tend to be a little on the grey side of the moral spectrum. With that said, although I may not be the most popular person because of my disposition, it does make me unusually qualified to tell these disturbing tales. Something you need to understand when entering this world is that it was forged from the ruins of another place, not unlike a phoenix reviving itself from the ashes of its own death. Still this doesn’t mean things are exactly the same; many things have changed actually. However, do not be discouraged as enjoying the developments in things we once cherished is one of the subtle miracles of existing. Well here I am just talking non-stop, and I always chide people about being too glib. I’m not sure if you could call the people you’ll meet in these tales my children, but they were entrusted to me by the powers at be and I like to think, even when they do not remember me, that I am one of their truest friends. So, in the spirit of friendship let us embark on yet another interstellar epic quest.

HOWLING DREAD

He woke without much memory of his life. He had the vaguest inklings of what his name might have been but he couldn’t tell for sure. All that was really clear to him was the name of a very dangerous and troublesome person known as Evan. There was a note in his hand, it was from Evan, he tried to read it and received a terrible pain in his head for his trouble. Still, as if his eyes were some movie screen the words began to play out for him; they stepped away from the blur of ink and letters that was the majority of the message.

“Yes well I can’t tell you everything all at once. Or at least I choose not to. One because it would be extremely uncomfortable for you and I would like to give you an honest chance to survive this time around. Second I doubt much of it would make sense, not to say that you’re mentally incapable I mean, you were one of the baddest hombre’s in the universe so you obviously knew something. It’s just that my mind tends to operate in dimensions that are unusually brutal to those not familiar with them and most of my notes come from there so...IDK just take my word for it on this one. Third reason, and this is super important, it’s cause I don’t want you to kill me, at least not just yet. Knowledge is armor as they say… What? That’s not the phrase? So I’ve been saying it wrong this whole…? Oh whatever. Anyway information kills and as I mentioned you’re a pretty bad hombre so I don’t want to take too many unnecessary chances with you. Anyway, what you need to know for this leg of your journey is that you are Frederick. Frederick; Fenriel, Dread Lord to Wolf Kind. And I wouldn’t stick around unless you want a blood bath because some wizards are coming to kill you. Good luck.”

The words stopped burning in his vision. Even as they were born into existence he felt them weaving about him. Evan had declared him, knighted him Frederick, and so Frederick he was. It was so simple, so powerful, so damning. The universe had claimed him, scarred him with existence and in this act they had awakened a terrible pulsing in his core. There was something hungry within him, something that craved the death, of all things. Frederick growled.

He was dressed in perplexing garments. They had something in common with the gear used by military personal, swat teams, or black ops. He seemed familiar with it though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He tested his feet, they were clad in combat boots which seemed heavy and quiet. His body felt unique, like it occupied the room with its gravity, holding great masses with its form yet beyond simple for him to maneuver. He knew it hadn’t always felt this way, that there had been such terrible days of such disgraceful weakness. He was wearing a black hood and cloak which were the same color as the rest of the fabric he was wearing. He was in a cellar, dusty, unassuming. He had been sitting but something had called him to stand. Was that a new scent in the air? The beast was on him in moments. Well perhaps raging within him was more accurate. He was nearly brought to his knees as his body began to tear and un-tear itself but eventually they settled on maintaining his more human skin.

You, you still breathe, you can still resist me. I thought you shattered beyond repair. I am annoyed and impressed. Our enemies hasten after us. I demand their death, the form of the beast will serve us well in hastening their demise.

“Ease down great wolf, they will die eventually, but we have more substantial prey to feast upon, let me use them as bait so that we might unravel this mystery a little more.“ Frederick thought to the the great animal within. The wolf was quiet for what seemed like an eternity but could have been little more than a second in the world of humans.

Fine, I like stories. But do not mock me with cowardice; end them, on your own terms but end them and end all who stand in the our way. We will make a banquet of this world and all worlds who stand in our light.

Frederick was...humbled. A conversation with that monster who shared his soul always left him a little distrustful of his ambitions and pride. He shook his head and drew just a little from the deep well which was his power and the wolf’s. He couldn’t see them but he knew a darkness had descended on the white of his eyes , while his irises went from a deep brown to a burning silver. They were not human eyes.

There were five of them and they were approaching fast. It did not seem humanly possible but then he remembered that his opponents would be magic users. He tested the word in his mind; Wizard. It seemed special, like something subtle had been altered about it, that those who claimed it were touched by a stranged system in this place. Then he figured out why the word seemed weird, it was written in Evan’s handwriting. Frederick started moving...he was very fast, faster than he thought possible even amongst the great races of creation. He was rushing out of the basement door, all at once being enveloped by the night air when he heard the explosion. From what his senses told him something had caved in one of the walls of the basement. At least three of the wizards had gone into the opening, looking for him no doubt. He focused on his escape but soon two figures occupied his view. They were wearing a similar cloak as him, though theirs were brown. The first raised his hand and Frederick didn’t even need his inner beast to tell him he was casting some sort of dangerous spell; he could feel the death in the air. Frederick rushed the caster and spun, hooking his arms around him before sending the man crashing into the earth many yards away. He was injured, but a few broken ribs wouldn’t kill him which admittedly left Frederick mildly disappointed. He turned on the second wizard. He didn’t even give this one a chance to work his magic, at least not noticeably. He cracked the man’s neck, he was dead before he hit the ground. He looked relatively human as far as Frederick could tell but then again many things could ape man, just look at the wolf himself. He patted the dead wizard down quickly. Aside from some garb which would have made quite the favorable impression at a comic con convention he didn’t immediately see anything of use. Then he found it, it wasn’t a large thing which made it simple to carry, just a journal of sorts. There was what looked like an animals skull on the cover, but the writing was not something he immediately understood. He hooked it to his belt and ran off, a strange blur to even the most perceptive of beings.

Frederick ran for a couple of hours, he didn’t tire, or ache, in truth he felt like he could have ran forever. The world just sort of fell away in flashes of acceleration. Still he decided to stop. He knew the beast within, how clever and how cruel it could be; relying on its talents too extensively could cost him in the other portions of his journey. Regardless he had traveled far enough, or at least he figured the many miles between there and his starting place should be enough to buy him some moments of reprieve. It was a simple forest. He had found a cave which must have been the den to some great bear at one point or another. It was long gone now, perhaps searching for better territories someplace less disturbed by humanity. It would be more than enough for Frederick. He patrolled the territory a little, marked a nearby river in his mind, and returned to the cave to rest. He slept in his cloak and gear. When he awoke the stars were out in the night sky. It might have only been a couple of hours but something in the air told him it had been much longer. Days maybe. He had done this before or at least this was not an entirely foreign thing to the wolf within. A type of hibernation though for what reason Frederick couldn’t tell. He began to walk, wondering if the sleep had cost him the advantage of distance he had had when he felt the moon’s tendrils grasp and bend at him. That’s what sold it for him, it had only been approaching approaching its zenith when he’d last seen it, maybe three quarters full at most, now it was full and blazing in his body and mind. He didn’t wish to destroy his clothes in the violence of his change so he disrobed quickly. His naked flesh was than bathed in an eruption of magic from the depths of the soul that was his and the world’s.

The change was painful. Part of him knew this wasn’t always so or at least didn’t have to be but he accepted the burden. Sacrifice could strengthen him, prepare him for the dirty work of finishing this devilish plot. His body broke, twisted, shifted and roared. It was a slow process, and an insightful one. He was angry when it was finished, partly because of the pain but partly because the moon beckoned deep portions of the beasts self and the beasts was driven by rage, by vengeance. He needed to kill. If only so that the wolf would respect him enough not to fight him on every issue. Like a token of camaraderie; the price which was to be paid in order to operate with one another in some semblance of sanity.

The wolf who was Frederick, who was Fenriel, who had been The Dreaded Lord Of All Wolves, was a great beast indeed. Frederick knew the world, most worlds if not all, to be driven by perspective. The nature of magic was to alter perspective, so hard facts did not always survive an encounter with it. Still Frederick had been a creature of order, albeit his own order so he was not entirely comfortable with leaving the chaos of magic unchecked in his mind and the minds of those who were his. If he had to describe his wolf form, though with effort he could claim many, he would describe it as the following: around three hundred pounds of fur muscle and death made arcane, with a coat of a deep blue almost black or a murky green, and with silver coloring around his feet and lower legs. He looked like a wolf yes, but he also looked like a monster, or a large dog, or a frightening shadow, it all depended on who was looking, where and why. He padded along on his large paws, vaguely admiring the sharpness of his paws which he could use for running on rough terrain and for killing prey. He ran some more, breaking out into a loping gallop. His senses painted a perverse universe for him in that forest, a thing where spirits and ghosts were as tangible as living prey experiencing another type of life which he could end as well. He felt like the boundary between all things, it was a hungry feeling. He brought down a great deer-like creature, though it was a bit too large so maybe it was an elk. He couldn’t tell he was too distracted by the awesomeness of the moment. Not only could he kill again but he could even eat his prey this time around. And it was a divine feast, rich and hearty. Then an awful idea came to him and like many of Frederick’s awful ideas this one had his spirit smiling from ear to ear with large sharp teeth. Paw on carcases thick hide he pushed himself up and off the ground rearing back his head and with a power that could crush a galaxy he howled. The sound rang out through the night world emitting an almost palpable push, bending the trees slightly, sending animals rushing away, and sending ripples in the fabric of space. For a moment he worried that he had given himself away but the beast within assured him that any sensible creature would be moving far in the opposite direction of him for reasons that had everything to do with the mysterious fashions of survival. And if they didn’t, and they were challenged instead, then he and Frederick, Dread Lords both, would just kill all who stood against them. Ah the simple almost charming death-like calculations of the wolf; there were few things like it, Frederick mused.

Frederick spent the duration of the moon’s zenith in his beast form which meant he was a wolf for about three days. He was tempted to simply doze and let the wolf run wild and free but he knew better. Maybe if he was an ordinary animal, or a more tame monster, but he was neither. His creature was a menace to life everywhere only extending small yet brutal mercies to those it claimed as its pack, its territory. So Frederick remained aware though not controlling while his beast did his best to ignore his constant observation without forgetting about it. The wolf had peculiar needs often subtly guised in normality (whatever that was). For example, it needed companions. And who doesn’t need someone else to shoulder the burden of existence, every preacher needed his flock, every patriarch his household, and every cantankerous rogue his merry band of fellows. There was something of these ideas within the monsters need but there was also a hidden complication to it all. It was not only a thing of flesh but a thing of spirit. Though man had his science which rattled off theories of alternate dimensions and parallel selves the beast simply had its existence rooted in the boundary between life and death. To all things it was tied but its mastery of these things came in its ability to transform them in its image to spread to multiply, to transcend itself in a pseudo infinite revolution. It needed people, it needed consciousness, it needed portals from which it could pour its terrible will through and beyond.

With this said Frederick was not surprised when the wolf found others of their kind. The wolf assured him that they would not be detected even as their senses scanned the pack of werewolves. Frederick didn’t doubt the wolf’s skill but he still felt that some more caution was needed. The other wolves were miles away in a the city, greatly shielded by the scents of cigarettes, automobile emissions, general waste, various metals, restaurants, people, etc. Why could he sense them despite all of these obstacles, well the Dread Lord was an experienced tracker, he was in general a great cosmic power, and he held ties to all wolves (especially werewolves) in one way or another.

They weren’t doing well, many seemed fresh, newly changed from humans, while others seemed tired after looking after the young ones for so long. It was only a guess but it didn’t seem like they had a well established internal structure yet. It looked like, in general, they answered to a rough burly looking wolf who seemed powerful enough to command their obedience but just barely. If he was their leader than it wouldn’t be long before they mutinied and destroyed themselves in their clumsiness. The Dread Lord called to the winds and they whispered the burly man’s territory, Frederick would find him.

Many strange and disturbing events had taught Frederick not to believe in coincidence, well in truth he didn’t believe in much of anything, excepting himself...barely. More to the point in a world full of magic and intersecting dimensions it was safe to assume that there was usually a cause for everything though the causes weren’t always satisfying. In short Frederick assumed that somehow his discovery of this almost-pack most certainly had something to do with how he was to solve his problem with the wizards, or even better, with the enigmatic Evan. The burly man lived in a small apartment and his name was Eduardo Guerrero or at least that’s what the kind lady who owned the neighboring shop said. Guerrero, Frederick liked that name. Eduardo was a contractor and had even helped construct some of the buildings in that region of the city. Where was this city you ask? Somewhere in New Mexico. It was called something like La Estrella Negra but the name wasn’t Frederick’s biggest concern just so long as it knew that it belonged to him at least as long as he stayed there. He was sure he must have been quite a sight in his strange cloak and warrior’s garb but he also knew that most people would forget he was ever there or pray they never saw him again. He knew how to fade in the memories of others or to simply scar their minds so badly they all but wished his image away. He knocked on Eduardo’s door, there was no answer, and yet Frederick’s nose told him that Eduardo was definitely in the apartment. He checked the door knob, the door was open. He pulled it and walked in.

There was a blur of movement than a deadly dance as Eduardo advanced on Frederick with a knife and a hammer. Frederick dodged when he could and maneuvered Eduardo here or there with gentle yet firm grapples. However when the blade's edge came just a hair too close to Frederick’s throat he knocked it out of the man’s hand with such force that he was sure he heard bones break. But Eduardo just spun with the momentum and charged with the hammer. The scuffle went on for a couple of minutes though there was surprisingly little noise coming from either participants, and for all his fury Eduardo seemed unusually practiced at limiting the collateral damage. Still Frederick grew tired and in a swift movement grasped the hammer, through it into a wall and knocked Eduardo to the ground.

“Enough!” Frederick said, power all but dripping from his words. One of them had managed to slam door shut during the fight which were good, the last thing they needed were bystanders watching them.

“You, I felt you even when you were on the street over there, like an earthquake pulsing with death and sorrow and despair. You are no ordinary wolf.” Eduardo said. Frederick nudged his inner beast, so much for going undetected. The wolf gave its equivalent of a shrug and a toothy smile, it liked throwing its weight around.

“No I’m not very ordinary and try as I might I doubt ordinaryness would ever take for long, in me. I did not intend to harm you, not this early at least but now you have me in the mood for ending lives.” Frederick said.

“If you mean to kill me than get on with it, i’d rather be dead than your slave.” Eduardo said. His eyes flashed gold, the eyes of a beast. They tried to stare at Frederick but after a couple of seconds they all but dove to look at the ground. Frederick raised a brow.

“I haven’t been in the business of slaves for quite a while and even when I did have them I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about it. No I didn’t come here for slaves, though I am in need of a pack.” Frederick said.

“You leave those children alone.” Eduardo said.

“They need leadership and as you have just seen I am more than capable of handling their aggressions. Also although they are newly turned, children seems like a stretch, if you are attempting to appeal to my sympathetic side I’ll stop you now, there is little there. Plus as I’ve been saying I don’t intend to harm them.” Frederick said.

“Your the one who turned them aren’t you, by proxy sure but you’re behind it all aren’t you?” Eduardo said. He was uncertain. Frederick racked his brain.

“I’ll admit there are a couple of gaps in my memory, but I don’t think I’m responsible for that merry band you’ve gathered up, they don’t fit my usually M.O if you want to call it that. You said by ‘proxy’ which means someone else got their hands dirty. If you know who this person is I would have you take me to them.” Frederick said.

“And if I refuse.” Eduardo said.

“You misunderstand me, I wasn’t giving you an option.” Frederick said kneeling down to look at the man with eyes burning silver. Without even touching Frederick placed the some of the weight of his existence onto Eduardo who seemed to be sinking into the floor.

The two were in Eduardo’s car after thirty minutes. Enough time for Frederick to shower and snack on some of Eduardo’s food. Werewolves tended to be pack animals like regular wolves and packs needed structure. Some werewolves were frustrated by being obligated to obey the orders of more powerful werewolves, others welcomed it as a reprieve from the stress and uncertainty an unclear chain of command could create, either way the wolves had a need to carry out these decrees as if they were essential to their survival. From a certain standpoint they were; the beasts were all intertwined and this connection was super charged when they acknowledged each other as pack, like many cells creating a larger organism or entity. Of course the more willful could resist or outright refuse with enough power behind them but a decent pack master, alpha, generally had incentives in place to discourage this. Rules, synchronicity, harmony, kept packs healthy, kept them strong. In short, although Eduardo didn’t like Frederick much, and although he might kill him if he showed weakness Frederick had little to nothing to fear from the other wolf so long as he wielded his greatness efficiently; this was almost second nature to Frederick.

Eduardo was muscular and about average height, he was a furry man even in his human skin. His scalp was covered with shaggy dark hair, his skin was like golden chocolate most likely do to his hispanic heritage, his face was made of rough yet pronounced bone patterns. He wore jeans, t shirts no one would miss, durable boots, and a simple leather jacket which would do well in the heat or cold. Frederick wondered how he looked in comparison with his skin nearly the color of night itself his short wavy hair (though he’d worn it longer before) and his wiry frame. Frederick had been called beautiful in certain places but beauty had its costs just as much as its advantages, plus Frederick, when in the right mood, could work a couple of miracles to change the state of his appearance. He decided his current form would do though he admitted that perhaps in the future he’d go for a more physically foreboding visage.

On the drive Eduardo, grudgingly, filled Frederick in on what he needed to know about the pack and its ‘creator’. She was a police captain for the Estrella Negra police department. Her name was Alice Weaver. Her mother was Haitian American while her father had been from the Dominican Republic. He hadn’t stuck around long as the story went. She was known for being ruthless, cunning, and unusually determined which might be why she managed to become Police captain at the young age of 35. That was three years ago. From what the rumors said she was taking some experimental drug or something because ten months ago she began acting strange. Not only did she seem to lose ten years in terms of appearance, she was more energetic, quicker and stronger and not “humanely” so. This all would have been fine if she wasn’t becoming prone to outbursts of great rage and what looked like a “predatory” glare in her eyes. She’d always been a little twisted, people said, but now it was getting ridiculous. Everyone was terrified of her even her bosses. What people didn’t know, and what Eduardo was all too privy to was that their captain had been transformed, transfigured, transmuted into a werewolf. Eduardo who admitted to having been a werewolf for over a century, knew the tell tale signs though he was a little late with his analysis as he’d been attempting to live alone away from packs for awhile and had been deeply invested in his isolation. When he did realize that he needed to step in, or at least someone did, it was already far passed his ability to fix. Captain Weaver was a very powerful werewolf, more powerful than Eduardo which meant his wolf had a strong need to obey her commands. This might have worked out well if these weren’t the only problems but something else was amiss with the wolf woman, something underhanded and despicable. When she was changed or shortly after she’d been afflicted with a curse of some sort. Eduardo said he didn’t notice it at first but as the months dragged on its pattern became apparent. When the full moon came she was called into her wolf skin like most werewolves in Frederick’s dominion, but she was also called to seek out man. Hunting was natural but she wasn’t going to kill and feed she was going with the intent of making other werewolves. Almost every time she went out a new werewolf was made, a process which was not easy at the best of times. She was clumsy but not as clumsy as she should have been for someone so green. There was another force at work pulling and pushing strings. Frederick was sure that his Wizards were connected to this.

They found her on her lunch break near one of the parks, she was feeding the ducks in the nearby pond. Her hair was short dark and curly. Her skin was the color of nutmeg shells. She was fairly attractive even with her scowl and brooding disposition, even while she was sitting Frederick could see the outlines of a quality figure underneath her uniform.

“I told you not to bother me when I’m eating.” She said gesturing to Eduardo; he was visibly unsettled but Frederick placed a hand on his shoulder and he managed to continue moving. Her eyes had flashed the beast’s gold when she’d said it, it did not seem intentional. “And you I don’t know but whoever the hell you are you need to get gone, I’m not a fan of special treatment.” She said. Frederick liked her already.

“You’ve been creating a lot of stray pups Captain. I don’t condone your habits but I have to say I’m impressed. So few casualties and such a high yield in survivors, its almost prodigal. Still something tells me you’re not the one at the reins when it comes to this issue.” Frederick said, his voice was quiet yet direct, a chill seemed to enter the air. Alice glared at him for a moment all the while her hand ghosted around her fire arm. He didn’t doubt she could have fired at him with the same ease she’d used when tossing bread to the ducks. Part of it was experience but the other part was something else entirely, it was the instinct, the need, the choice to kill that would have shaved off so many seconds and so much tension. It would have been as natural as breathing. Frederick was almost disappointed she didn’t shoot at him, but even he knew that causing such a scene in such a public place would have made his mission even more difficult.

“You’re a wolf.” She said, it wasn’t a question. Her hands were interlocked above her lap. She looked like a tiger studying a dancing deer.

“Of course, I am the wolf of wolves.” Frederick said doing a slight bow.

“He says he can help you Alice, and you need it even if you won’t acknowledge it.” Eduardo said.

“Since when did I allow you to use my first name.” Alice said.

“You don’t have to like me, god knows I don’t like him, but he knows things Alice, he can fix this mess.” Eduardo said.

“So what makes you so special?” Alice said looking unimpressed.

“Many things, but I don’t feel like using the centuries it would take to explain my many deeds and legends to you. Simply know that I am a very efficient problem solver and that getting on my bad side is a quick way to end up killed and, well, eaten.” Frederick said. He smiled but his eyes were burning with the power of his beast. Alice stared into his eyes, she lasted about a minute before her gaze fell to the ground, she seemed surprised...annoyed.

“Eduardo says I’m cursed.” Alice said

“From what he’s told me that seems likely.” Frederick said.

“You can fix that?” Alice said.

“Probably, unless you mean your newfound wolfiness. I can’t or won’t fix that, I don’t have much of an interest in humans and I doubt my own wolf would allow me to undo such a fine specimen as you.” A bit of the dark hunger lingered in Frederick’s words and whether she was conscious of it or not Frederick could see the worry enter her face. Frederick unhooked the book from his belt, he tossed it to Alice. “Recognize any of that.” Her eyes widened like she’d seen a ghost.

“I remember seeing this symbol when I was...turned.” Alice said.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t a willing transformation.”

“It was a violation.” Alice said.

“Changing someone against their will generally is in my book yet it happens all too frequently in this world of monsters which is yours and mine. Just look at those miscreants you made, I doubt they chose the fate you forced on them, not consciously at least.” Frederick said.

“I didn’t mean to, I can’t help it whatever it is, they have their hooks in me, working me over like I’m their puppet. It’s disgusting, I’m disgusting.” She said clenching the book tighter. There was a slight swell of energy around her.

“You are many things darling, though I don’t think disgusting is one of them. You shouldn’t blame yourself for the evil of others but when you submit to that evil, let it corrupt you beyond recognition, when you lose yourself that is when you are beyond the reach of my mercy. But look at you, all fire and iron, so far from broken I’m almost amazed. You’ll do just fine once I’m done with you.” Frederick said. Eduardo and Alice both exchanged a look of suspicion and concern, the dark hunger was back in his voice.

“What do you intend to do?” Alice said.

“That would be telling.” Frederick said. Alice raised a brow. “Words wouldn’t do it justice, first we need to gather your pack, and yes they are yours, well mine first but I don’t intend to stay here forever, so you can keep them. The rest will become clearer once we’re all in close proximity.” Frederick said. He retrieved his book and then he and Eduardo began to walk away.

It was a couple of hours before Alice joined them, which gave Eduardo plenty of time to introduce Frederick to the “pack”. There were about sixteen of them. Most were new, turned within the last ten months, but others were older like Eduardo. The older ones tended to be other lone wolves with a soft spot for strays who Eduardo had contacted to help him keep the new ones alive. Part of Frederick thought he would have been better off just culling the young ones before they were fully invested in the brutal world of wolves but he’d lucked out with Frederick’s arrival. The pack sniffed about him for a while and at first some showed signs they’d give him trouble like with Eduardo but in a matter of moments he had them kneeling to him. It was clear he was the unquestionable head of the strange band. They were using an abandoned building as a meeting place. Eduardo said it wasn’t scheduled for renovations for a couple of months plus few people liked coming to that part of town. The wolves all seemed a lot less restless and a lot more comfortable with this knew firm source of leadership, some even began to doze in corners as they waited for Alice’s arrival.

When Alice did show up she was in her civilian clothes, sweat pants, sweat shirt and running shoes, she even wore a baseball cap to keep her face hidden. The pack stirred slightly when she showed up but when it was clear she wasn’t going to challenge Frederick for role as pack master they settled by down quickly. Still a good portion of the new wolves were noticeably afraid of her.

“So why’d you call me out here?” She said scanning the room.

“Because you’re their leader, so you need to lead. Can you change on command?” Frederick said.

“Yes, but I prefer not to. I’m only bound to change others on the full moon so I won’t go rogue on you.” She said.

“Good. From what I’ve seen, and I’ve seen quite a lot, werewolves are pack animals. We draw strength and power from one another. I’ll handle the brunt of it today but like I said, eventually I’ll leave and the responsibility will fall to you unless one of these welps gets bolder. The pack is like a castle and as Alpha you’re in charge of its defenses. You push here, pull there with many slight actions that ripple into great events. Many days your competence and strength will decide whether your people live or die, whether they suffer or thrive.” Frederick said.

“I don’t need to be lectured.” She said. Frederick Ignored her.

“All of you prepare to change. I’m sure Eduardo has been tutoring you in the ways of wolves but it should go without saying that if you cannot shift from beast to man at will you are a liability to your pack and yourself. That aside. One of our own needs our help today. She has done terrible things but only because terrible things were done to her. You don’t need to forgive her just yet but helping her save herself could end many tragedies before they even begin.”

“She hurt us. ” Said one of the new wolves.

“She’s evil.” Said another.

“She’s not evil, just misguided, like all of you. Wolves run in packs. A pack is only as strong as its weakest member. You all need each other to survive which means working together, fighting together, killing together, and succeeding together. You fail together, you triumph as one.” Frederick said and even as he spoke he willed a bit of his magic to start the beginnings of the change within the wolves. They all stripped down. Frederick wasn’t a fan of being naked, carnal pleasures excluded, he felt too vulnerable, at least in his man skin. The body of the beast was covered in warm fur, layered with deadly muscle and armed with wicked teeth and claws, it was an efficient killing machine unlike his clumsy man body. He snuck a few glances at Alice’s amazing figure before focusing on the task at hand. When they were all naked and all but buzzing with the magic of the pack Frederick began.

The room started to snap with the heat of the magic even as the space seemed to bend and ripple to its potency, it was like being in a pressure cooker. The wolves all shifted and it was a slow ugly process but necessary all the same. Some needed more help than others and Frederick nudged their spirits and minds in the right direction. It was all over in maybe a half an hour. Eduardo’s wolf was a grey furred creature weighing somewhere in the mid two hundreds. Alice’s wolf was dark brown almost black in color though she looked a little smaller than was typical. Frederick didn’t doubt that she was dangerous though, sometimes it was the slighter ones who were the most dangerous. He nudged her into the middle of the pack, and she was obviously uncomfortable having her back to so many predators. She began and stopped a couple of snarls, showing teeth but she was unsure of whether to use them or not. Frederick quieted her uncertainty by rubbing his face against hers, after this some of the other wolves did similar acts. Small gestures of kindness and warmth often accomplished with delicate touches. Before long she was calm, or at least as calm as a werewolf can be. Frederick left the great wolf within to manage their body of flesh while his mannish spirit stepped towards Alice. He placed a hand on her head and stared into her eyes deeply. He called to the moon.

All at once foul, insidious magic began to pour out of Alice like she was a cauldron of malevolence. She began to panic again and Frederick could feel that something had separated a crucial point of connection between her and her beast, she was going mad. He’d been expecting something like this though And even though the magic sought to spread, to the other wolves, and to the world outside, it found purchase in neither. Instead Frederick rejoined his wolf and let its great power unleash itself on this strange enemy, tearing and burning it until he slashed out its roots within Alice. The magic crumbled away useless and decayed. Alice paced around, she almost looked happy.

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur for Frederick and the pack, fighting that despicable magic had exhausted much of their human minds. Eduardo had picked the building because it was very close to a secluded path leading out of the city and into the forest. The wolves followed it to run and hunt as one.

The next couple of days were relatively amicable at least for Frederick. Freed from her curse, Alice became almost pleasant to her new vassals. Leadership came naturally to her. Meanwhile she assisted Frederick with his investigation of the strange wizards who had been harrassing the both of them. Alice remembered pain and great fear when she’d been changed but she’d never gotten a clear glimpse of the beast which had done the deed and part of her doubted that there had been one. A lot could be accomplished with magic and whatever had happened to her had been the result of a great and terrible magic. She’d been chained and caged for a couple of days as the men in brown cloaks performed experiments and spells on her. She managed to escape, eventually but she still wasn’t sure if that wasn’t a part of their plan.

Frederick’s own research revealed that the journal was written in some type of code, a code which he gradually began to understand though he was far from fluent. If he was right then the Wizards were bent on harnessing the powers of great creatures to fuel themselves. It was hungry magic, beast magic. And it seemed that they had a talent for using a creatures own strength against them. Deciphering the code for too long gave him a headache however, not as bad as the one Evan’s note gave him but unpleasant nonetheless. He decided to walk off his frustrations by exploring some of the city. He hadn’t discarded his Cloak and gear but he decided that blending in would help him in the long run so he had Alice buy him some more conventional garb. He was dressed in jeans tennis shoes a brown jacket and a long sleeved black shirt. He had just eaten a burger and downed a soda when he realized he was being followed. He’d had a suspicion some was tailing him for a while but the presence seemed so faint he thought it might have just been an overly curious animal or some mugger who was going to get much more than he bargained for. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to lure his purser into a dark alley where he might kill them quickly or lead them into a public place where they might be less inclined to act recklessly. He decided on the latter and entered one of the local malls. He ended up walking into one of sports departments. He was playing around with a football when they...well, she approached him.

She was an attractive woman. She had long red hair tied in a ponytail. She had very striking hazel eyes. She was...unusually pale. She was wearing a fringe jacket, jeans, cowboy (or maybe cowgirl in this case) boots, and steel colored sundress. She was thin yet well proportioned. Frederick sniffed the air. She was a vampire.

Frederick didn’t particularly like vampires. Admittedly they tended to be more useful to him than humans as they had a longevity and durability that rivaled his werewolves, but he often regarded them as being inherently evil. Sure Frederick wasn’t exactly the picture of altruism and moral integrity but in his mind his need for death and dominion had more to do with the purity of his beasts focus. He was a scion of nature, a direct product of the universe’s own initiatives not an aberration of it the vampires were.

“Any reason in particular that you followed me here, night child?” Frederick said.

“Because before I killed one of those troublesome wizards, they told me that someone who looks and behaves a lot like you would have some answers that I am keen on obtaining.” She said in a hushed voice that would have been undetectable for most humans.

“I only deal with your kind when I have to.” Frederick said in the same hushed voice.

“I’m not jumping for the joy at the chance of running around with mongrels, but I would like to do this the easy way so that things don’t become more complicated.” She said.

“That’s weird because it almost sounds like you’re threatening me.” Frederick said smiling with teeth that seemed far too sharp to be human. His eyes were burning silver.

“Just don’t underestimate me.” She said her hazel eyes turning into a infernal scarlet, her pupils narrowed like a snakes. If this continued like this they’d be brawling in middle of the store. Frederick was beginning to regret not taking that dark alley route.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere more private.” He said.

“Maybe we should. Meet me in front of the museum downtown in an hour. Come alone and be prepared to talk about our wizard ‘friends’”. She said.

“You think you can give me orders.” Frederick said.

“Consider them strong suggestions.” She said. Frederick huffed and walked away.

He ended up going to the museum anyway though wasn’t especially happy about it. The shadows seemed thick around the place, which must have suited the vampire’s...disposition. She walked out of the darkness as if materializing from thin air five minutes after he arrived.

“Had to make sure you weren’t being followed.” She said.

“Let’s just get to the point. The less effort I waste on you the better.” He said.

“Fine, but we should at least know who we’re speaking to. I’m Karoline with a K, and you are?” She said.

“Growing impatient and hungry.” Frederick said.

“There’s no need to be rude.” She said.

“The wizard you killed didn’t tell you my name.” Frederick said.

“Maybe he did maybe he didn’t either way I’d like to hear it from you.” She said.

“You may call me Frederick though I’ve gone and go by others.” He said.

“Right so, about a month ago, Frederick, I was in a coffin soundly sleeping. I wake up not knowing who or what I am until I read this note by this guy named Evan. He basically tells me that the city I was sleeping in was being scouted by a clan of Wizards who wanted to harm me in some way. If I stayed where I was, then by the morning they would probably capture or kill me, so I started running. Over the next couple of weeks I engaged in a game of cat and mouse with the wizards, I killed my fair share but they just kept coming so I figured I might as well learn something about them. The one I cornered told me about you, a great wolf of wolves, potentially the most powerful werewolf in existence. I asked him why, if you were so powerful, hadn’t the other vampires I encountered warned me about someone like you. The man said the world had been altered, things were rearranged and hidden like a haze in the mind. Then he told me about his arch-wizard Evangelo”

“Evan?” Frederick said.

“More or less what I’m guessing. He’s a bit of an upstart in their band but he’s striking hard and fast apparently. He specialized in some type of siphoning magic, a thing that devours. He taught the basics of it to the others and has them targeting great sources of magic from which they could draw power from. Apparently whatever they “eat” they acquire as their own.”

“This was a rather talkative wizard.”

“He didn’t seem strong willed, plus I was torturing him so he had incentive to give me what I wanted.” She said.

“Is that the end of your tale.” Frederick said.

“That’s the gist of it so far. You gonna fill me in on your end.” She said. Frederick thought about it for a moment. She had given him useful information. Eventually he told her the synopsis of what had occurred to him.

“This Evangelo seems pretty weird.” She said.

“Yeah if he is the same as the Evan who gave us these notes then he’s obviously more than what he seems. If he truly wanted our power to fuel his wizards, than it makes no sense to tip us off moments before they would have captured us. And if what he says is true, then his powers go beyond what most creatures, even supernatural ones, would be used to dealing with.” Frederick says.

“He kind of sounds like a trickster, like Coyote or Anansi.” Karoline said.

“That’s a solid point.” Frederick said, he’d encountered tricksters or at least those related to the archetype before, it was seldom a simple and leisurely occurrence. “I am a little fuzzy on something. If he is targeting great powers, then that means it’s not unlikely that you’re more powerful than you appear to be. Which means there’s something you’ve left out of in your story.”

“Like you’ve told me every detail about your extensive existence.” She said.

“Well I haven’t avoided the fact that I’m one of the most deadly creatures creation has ever known.”

“Well I wasn’t a queen or something, no Night Court ever served me, at least that I can remember. I did have a reputation though. There was an era where I was less than agreeable, to everyone really but especially other vampires. Maybe I had been altered by some spell or maybe some tragedy had just pushed me over the edge but I killed a lot of my own kind. They retaliated of course but for some reason every time they thought they’d finished me I would just return, no one knew how or why. I was barely conscious during this period so I only heard about most of the details after the fact but from what I understand they hadn’t been lacking in creativity or thoroughness with their attempts to end me. They called me the ‘Berserker’ the ‘Undying One’. I wasn’t popular but I was feared which is sort of better in its own way.” She said.

“That does sound like an interesting set of abilities. A worthy haul if you’re attempting to make warriors who don’t tire or expire.” Frederick said he looked her over as if he wished to test the limits of her ‘endurance’.

“Do you always look at people like that?” She said.

“Only when they become interesting. Well, regardless it seems we have a common enemy or at least a shared obstacle. Plus I can’t say I don’t want to learn more about your abilities. Would you be willing to entertain a momentary alliance.” He said.

“And I thought you didn't like me.” She said.

“I don’t like most people, it doesn’t stop me from seizing a promising opportunity.” Frederick said She looked him over for a while.

“Fine, but no experiments, I’m not your lab rat.” She said then she melted back into the shadows as if she’d never been there.

“We’ll see,” he said to no one in particular, “Note to self, stop talking to self.” He said to himself. He walked back to his den in Alice’s home.

#Dread Lord Werewolves Paradise Light Shackled Wolf

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