#i miiiiight have read this series but I'm not sure lol

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

For Worse or For Better | PART 1 OF 3

Prompt: this marriage was supposed to be a scam but, but listen, 

For: @lenireads

Rating: T || Word Count: ~3000

Warnings: fake marriage au, strangers to spouses to lovers, wine and champagne drinking, food mention, swearing, flirty/sexist comments from men (unseen but mentioned), attempted unwanted touching of the waist (reader stops it and its not a huge plot point), wonwoo is oblivious, kissing, some suggestiveness but not as much as is normal for me sorryyyy, this is a full on romcom just so yall know

Reader Notes: in grad school, i say wife multiple times, girlfriend once, and cleavage once, wears a dress and heels, receives flirty/sexist comments from men (briefly mentioned), attempted unwanted touching of the waist (reader stops it and its not a huge plot point)

Wonwoo has no idea what he was thinking when he’d asked you to marry him.

All he knows is that late one night, after a few too many whiskeys, his boss had told him he’d never get on the board if he didn’t settle down. All the execs were traditionalists, apparently, and wanted to give the position to someone who’d use it to support a family.

Wonwoo had tried to argue, tried to explain that he didn’t see himself settling down, that he was the right person for the position, that cats should count as family. 

Nothing got through, and that night, Wonwoo poured his boss into a cab and left work feeling defeated. 

Mingyu had called, picked up on the exhaustion in his voice, offered to bring food over and brainstorm ideas. Now, Wonwoo didn’t normally go to Mingyu for ideas, just out of self-preservation, but he was feeling a little desperate. 

He’d been working toward this position for five years now - starting in the mailroom and moving up step by step, with Chief Financial Officer as his end goal. It was finally in his sights, but one pesky little factor was keeping him from reaching CFO, and he knew that rat bastard Alan Connor was vying for the position too.

Connor was already engaged to a nice woman named Helen, and if Wonwoo didn’t figure something out, he’d be glaring at Alan over a celebratory dinner. And he knew the douche would request seafood, knowing full well Wonwoo hates it and would have to pick at the sides like a peasant. 

No, Wonwoo simply could not allow it.

He supposes that’s why he’d listened when Mingyu mentioned knowing someone trying to avoid international tuition for their Master’s Program. And he’d listened when Mingyu said they’d considered getting married to obtain citizenship. And he’d listened when Mingyu offered to put him in contact with them, saying that you could solve your problems together. 

The next thing he knew, Wonwoo was standing next to you in front of the minister, sliding a ring on your fourth finger to the tune of Mingyu’s loud weeping in the aisle behind him. 

It was awkward at first.

Wonwoo had a spare room and you were looking for a place to stay, so the logical decision was for you to move in with him.

You’d been like a ghost the first few weeks, staying in your room most of the time, mainly emerging to cook or get water. It was only after he’d gotten takeout for the fifth night in a row that you’d appeared in the kitchen, telling him that if he wouldn’t let you pay rent he could at least stop getting delivery and let you cook for him. It made sense to say yes at the time - Wonwoo was getting tired of eating nothing but restaurant food, and you would be cooking for yourself anyway, so it wouldn’t be hard to double the portion. 

That was Wonwoo’s first mistake. 

Well. 

Second, probably, after marrying you in the first place. 

Because agreeing to your proposal meant he came home to delicious smells and soft music and you, dancing in the kitchen in your pajamas, with a glass of wine in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. It was so heartwrenchingly domestic that Wonwoo started wondering why he didn’t want a family in the first place. 

It got worse when his cats started liking you more than they liked him. Maybe it was because you’re so warm, both in personality and body temperature. Maybe it was because you were home more often than he was, doing online temp work until your citizenship went through and your tuition was adjusted. Maybe it was because you were happy to pet them until they were tired of affection, or because you let them sleep on you, or because you spoke to them so sweetly. 

Wonwoo’s not sure, but he does know he literally felt his heart clench in his chest the first time he walked in on you cradling Mr. Mittens like a baby.

Queen Bea was wrapped around your shoulders like a fur stole, and your fingers were running up and down Mr. Mittens’ stomach, his purrs audible from the front door. He’d stopped in his tracks, eyes wide behind his glasses, breath caught in his throat, because Mr. Mittens didn’t even let Wonwoo hold him like that. 

(Mr. Mittens had been adopted to help soothe Wonwoo’s anxiety, but he discovered soon after that Mr. Mittens himself had even worse anxiety, and thus entered into their lives Queen Beatrice, his emotional support cat’s emotional support kitten, who now runs the entire household)  

Then you started school, and Wonwoo announced to the company that he’d gotten married to his long-term girlfriend. The financial advisors at your university were a bit suspicious at the sudden change in your marital status, and he had colleagues asking him left and right what you looked like and for cute photos from the vacations he’d lied about going on with you. It was starting to make him nervous, and it must have been obvious to you because you’d had the genius idea to stage couple photos.

You disappeared and came home one Saturday afternoon with various outfits and props, and Mingyu in tow to act as your cameraman, and off you all went.

(Gyu’s a self-proclaimed Instagram whore so he had a lot of ideas, and knew spots all over the city that could be passed off as more exotic locales). 

Wonwoo felt so stupid after for thinking it would be a safe outing, that he wouldn’t be put further at risk of falling for you with every snapshot of you kissing him on the cheek or wrapping a scarf around his neck or staring at him like you love him. You’d dragged him all over the city that day, your hand warm in his, Gyu trailing behind the two of you and shooting Wonwoo eyebrow wiggles every time he turned around. He’d felt like such a newlywed, posing for pictures with you on his arm, and it just made things all the more dangerous for him.

But it worked, the pictures got the financial aid office off your back and got him in closer with his superiors, and Wonwoo learned nothing.

(Conveniently, one of the places you’d fakecationed was where the President had honeymooned)

For posterity, Wonwoo had set his favorite photo from that day as his lockscreen, and stubbornly ignored the butterflies that rose in his stomach every time he checked his phone. 

It got a bit more difficult when the board started asking why Wonwoo didn’t bring you to any company functions.

There were… a lot. 

And before, Wonwoo hadn’t felt the need nor the desire to attend the many dinners and parties and cocktail hours the board paid for, but now, he had a wife. Wonwoo had a wife. 

And Alan Connor didn’t, yet. It was time for you to start making appearances, and the excuse that you were studying for an exam or working on a paper could only pass for so long, so Wonwoo dragged you with him to the next dinner party. 

That turned out to be a great decision because not only were Connor and Helen unable to attend, but you, Wonwoo discovered, were a natural at charming old traditional dudes and their wives.

You had knowledge on seemingly every topic, and you had the whole table leaning in to hear your every word without coming off like a know it all. You’d fielded the flirty (and sometimes sexist) comments from the men with grace, subtly twisting their words to compliment their wives instead, leaving the women blushing and hiding smiles behind cloth napkins.

You were a revelation, honestly, and even got the board to help clean up at the end of the night without twisting any ears. It was the most fun Wonwoo had ever had at a company function, and he’d resolved to bring you to every possible one after. 

Which was yet another mistake, because Wonwoo had failed to consider the possibility that he’d be charmed too, by your intelligence and kindness and wit. And he was charmed, beyond belief, falling deeper with every outing and falling harder with every sleepy smile you’d send him from the passenger seat afterwards, the way you’d pad into the living room, makeup gone and hair loose, pajamas on and arms ready to snuggle. 

With Queen Bea and Mr. Mittens. Not with Wonwoo. 

Never with Wonwoo. 

It was getting harder to pretend he didn’t wish it was him you pulled into your arms at the end of the night. 

And now here Wonwoo is, staring at you from across the ballroom, his eyes tracing the line of your neck and his smirk hiding behind a champagne glass as you tilt your head back to fake laugh at his coworker.

The crystal chandelier refracts flecks of light on you, golden beams dancing on the soft skin exposed by your slip dress, and Wonwoo tries not to let his eyes linger too long on how the silk fabric drapes over your chest, glides down your body, outlining everything he gets to see but not touch.

His only consolation is that you don’t let anyone else touch either, and he smiles secretly when he sees you grab the touchy asshole’s wrist before his hand can land on your waist, flicking it away from you with disdain. Wonwoo’s first move as CFO will be convincing the board to transfer that guy to Alaska.

You turn on your stilettos to stalk toward him and Wonwoo tries to compose himself, smoothing down the lapels of his suit and straightening his tie, hoping you didn’t notice him watching the interaction.

“Hi honey,” you breathe, then hiss through teeth clenched into a smile, “I swear to all that is holy, if one more of your bastard colleagues tries to feel me up, I will be sending this pointy ass heel through their foot.” 

Wonwoo laughs, gives you explicit permission, and tries to pretend your rage doesn’t turn him on before wrapping a loose arm around your waist and guiding you over to the champagne table. God knows the both of you could use another glass. 

His eyes shift behind his glasses, trying not to follow the drop that slipped past your lips and is currently trailing down your neck, descending toward your chest rapidly. It will show up on the silk, and you’ll be annoyed he didn’t tell you, but he can’t find it in himself to say anything or to stop the drop rolling into your cleavage. You must feel the chill, because you catch it daintily with a cocktail napkin before it gets that far, and he looks away just in time to see Alan Connor storming over. 

“You’re getting the promotion, dickhead, congratu-fucking-lations,” Connor all but shouts at Wonwoo, voice barely low enough to avoid attracting attention. 

“What do you mean? How do you know?” Wonwoo can’t keep the excitement out of his voice and glances over at you only to find you still glaring at Connor for calling him a dickhead. He feels his heart swell and can’t suppress the fond smile rising on his face, feeling so lucky to have a fake-wife as protective as you. 

“You just had to get married before me, didn’t you? Do you know how long I’ve been planning this? How hard it’s been to put up with her?” his rival seethes, chest rising and falling rapidly, face reddening with rage. 

Now Wonwoo really doesn’t know what Connor’s talking about. 

“Put up with who?” You say in unison with Wonwoo and look over to him with a little smile, your eyes glittering. You sound a bit more suspicious than Wonwoo, who sounds more bewildered than anything. 

“Helen! She’s not my fucking fiancee, she’s an actress, you idiots,” he grits out with derision, “I hired her to pretend to be engaged to me so those old bastards would give me the promotion! I was willing to fake a goddamn pregnancy if it got me CFO,” Connor shouts, gesturing wildly, eyes bulging. 

Wonwoo and you are both struck silent. He can feel his heart pounding, both at the fact that he’s going to be the new Chief Financial Officer and at the fact that Connor had been faking his relationship too. Not as well as Wonwoo was, apparently, if he dislikes Helen this much. 

You barely have time to gather yourselves before another voice booms out above all the chatter stirred by Connor’s outburst. 

“Alan Connor. Thank you so much for reassuring me the board made the correct decision. I expect your letter of resignation on my desk tomorrow morning,” President Laybourne states jovially, though his eyes are burning with ire. 

Connor pales, “Bu-but sir, tomorrow’s Saturday! Can we just discuss this like civilized adults, please?”

His pleas are unsuccessful. 

Wonwoo tries not to feel smug as he watches his former enemy be escorted from the hall by security, coughing to cover the laugh attempting to escape him when Connor shoves the guard's hand off his shoulder and shouts, “I can walk by myself!”

The fear rises within him again when the president lingers, eying you and him and the way you stand so close together. Wonwoo doesn’t know when it happened but your hand is entwined with his, fingers twined together, and your other hand is clutching at his forearm, wrinkling his suit. 

“Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” the president chuckles, “get it? Because you have cats.” 

Wonwoo laughs much too loud, and he can feel your nails digging into his skin even through the wool of his jacket, telling him to tone it down. 

“Yes, we do have cats,” Wonwoo agrees breathlessly, nodding his head until his glasses start to slip down his nose and your hand appears to still his head and gently push the frames back up to rest correctly. 

President Laybourne eyes him again before continuing, “The promotion is yours, Mr. Jeon. Welcome to the Board of Directors,” he finishes with a smile and his hand primed for a shake. 

Wonwoo tries to compose himself, gently untangling your fingers from his and wiping his hand off on his pant leg, just in case it had gotten sweaty, before taking the other man’s hand and firmly shaking it once. Wonwoo’s hand searches for yours as soon as he lets go, probably clutching your fingers tight enough to cut off circulation. 

“You know, I always thought there was something off about Alan and Helen. They seemed…  a bit too fake, a bit too perfect,” the president shakes his head, staring into the distance, “I just didn’t feel like they loved each other, not like Marci and I do. Not like you and your wife do,” he finishes with a clap on Wonwoo’s shoulder that nearly knocks him over before saying goodnight and returning to his wife. 

“Well, now we can never get divorced,” Wonwoo jokes. 

You laugh, saying, “That’s fine with me,” under your breath, and Wonwoo laughs too, before he processes what you’d said and starts to feel like he might die. 

“What? What did you say?” He asks, somewhat desperately, nearly out of his mind with hope. 

Your eyes grow wide, your mouth snapping shut, and you rush out in one breath, “Um, nothing, I’m gonna go see if they put out more of those spring rolls, I’ll be right back!” 

You try to spin and speed away, but Wonwoo is faster than you and catches you by the elbow gently before you can run to the snack table. 

Your eyes won’t meet his, and he ducks and moves around trying to catch your gaze before you finally turn back to him, and he begs, “No, please, tell me what you said.” 

Wonwoo knows he looks pathetic, practically panting and imploring you with his eyes to be honest, his brows pinched so close together they’re skewing his glasses, but he doesn’t care.

If you said what he thinks you said, it will change everything. 

You gnaw on the inside of your bottom lip, looking at him through the sides of your eyes, before your shoulders lose all their tension and you sigh, “I said it would be fine with me. If we never got divorced.” 

You sound defeated and small, like this is something you’ve been holding back, and Wonwoo feels all the air in his lungs exit in a whoosh before both hands fly up to cradle your face and pull you into a searing kiss, months of pent up love and adoration and fondness and lust pouring from his lips into yours. Your shoulders bunch up a bit and your hands move to cover his, and Wonwoo fears for a second that you’ll pull away, tell him that wasn’t what you meant, but you just pull him closer, kissing him back until you’re breathless too. 

Eventually, Wonwoo realizes both that you need air and that you’re at a public function hosted by the company of which he’s just been made Chief Financial Officer, and gently detaches from you. He stays close though, can’t bear to go further than a few inches, and you stare into his eyes before breathing out, “Should we go home? I think we should go home.”

Wonwoo nods before you’re done talking, and he makes straight for the exit on light feet before you veer to the side, tugging him towards his colleagues, and he remembers the two of you should say your goodbyes. 

He’s as quick as he can be about it, shaking hands and accepting toasts, and hears you tell everyone how proud you are of him, knows you mean it, and his heart starts swelling. 

Then Wonwoo hears you say, “My husband and I should be getting home, have a great night!” and something else starts swelling too.

(His dick. Wonwoo is talking about his dick. Oh you got it? Good.)

AN: hiiii so this was a sleepover fic turned oneshot for the lovely @lenireads who was the first person to join my taglist!! thank you so much for supporting me and i hope you enjoy!! there will be a smutty part two, don't worry!!

PART TWO

ALTERNATE ENDING

taglist: @confusedbansheee @junhui-recs @burningupp-replies @heeseung-lover686 @favehoshiposts @gyvswhore @jaysawake (unable to tag) @1004luvangel @bangchanbabygirlx @Baldi-2 (i know you filled out the taglist again but i still cant tag u for some reason im so sorry) @just-here-to-read-01 @gaebestie @noryyyyyyyyy @heavenly-mobo @smalliechelle @shuabby1994 @snowgirlfallen @noraehey @swinterr @fr0g-filez

you can join my taglist here

[jazlynriddle]

Welcome to your life - Pt 3:

It's My Own Design Ch 12:

Summary:

Ominis fought to control his expression, to keep his hands from trembling. Five years. Five years since he'd seen his parents, and this. This was the reason they'd given him the honour of their time? This was the reason they'd sought him out at Hogwarts?

The bitterness welling up within him was thick enough to gag on.

New year, new allies, new responsibilities, new avenues of revenue, and new aspects of their own Ancient Magic to explore. As the Keeper and their partners enter their last year at Hogwarts, it remains to be seen if the new school year will bring with it new problems or adversaries, but they are confident in the strength of their relationship with Sebastian and Ominis. The three of them would endure, no matter what befell them.

And if they were wrong?

What a joke, they would suffer no alternative.

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: None, actually lol this chapter is pretty wholesome xD

Holy shit, this chapter is like 10k words in total. Why do my chapters keep getting longer? I tried to cut it, but the chapter refused to be split up, so you guys get an extra long chapter, enjoy! ♡

Why do I do this to myself-

Though, my partner is going overseas for a week in a few days, so I'll try my best to get the next chapter out on schedule, but I miiiiight have to skip an upload again, because they are my muse and I can't write without them, I'll have to see how much we can clear before their trip x')

But, yay! More making up magic stuff, I always like doing that =D

Also, I highly recommend listening to the track ‘Forbidden Friendship’ from the movie How to Train Your Dragon (god I love that franchise, the old TV series were great too. Hate the third movie and its subsequent stuff though) during the fourth segment of the chapter!

I was listening to the track while writing it and I think it goes quite well! ^_^

“I'm Ranrok's uncle.”

The Keeper tensed immediately and Borgok gave a deep laugh, raising his hands and revealing palms decorated with callouses, as he bared his teeth in a sharp grin. “Peace child, I have no quarrel with you.”

“In fact, I am... grateful for what you did.” He lowered his hands to rest on the table once more with a sigh, his expression pensive and sober. “Killing Lodgok showed us all that Ranrok had lost his purpose. His lofty goal of elevating our people giving way to pure lust for war and death.”

At his words, the Keeper relaxed. While they didn't necessarily believe him, yet, it would be better to give him the impression that they did. “You don't share the same desires that he had? For goblin supremacy.”

“I did... for some time, even served as one of Ranrok's Loyalists. But now… Now, I'd just like to be regarded by humans as equals, and for them to respect our customs. That would be enough for me.” A wistful smile formed on his wrinkled face. “Lodgok shared similar sentiments with me, before his passing... he trained under me and to lose the lad, to our own family, not even to a human...”

Borgok heaved a pained sigh.

“I see.” The Keeper nodded slowly, an unsurprising sentiment, but that still didn't explain what the goblin wanted from them. “You have my condolences. Lodgok was a dear friend to me, but your grief must surely be deeper, for he was family.”

“Thank you.” Borgok returned that slow nod with an equally solemn lowering of his head. “Losing the boy, after all the years I spent training him in the art of crafting... I suppose you could say it taught me the weariness of war.”

A wry smile formed on Borgok's lips. “Lodgok spoke well of you, before he was murdered. A human who was both strong and noble, one who looked at him as an equal rather than a lesser. A person he trusted.”

The Keeper felt a deep pang of guilt in their chest as he spoke, recalling the mournful manner in which their goblin friend had spoken his last words.

I was bringing it to you.

The regret they'd felt was beyond description, when they were forced to leave Lodgok's body behind and escape the collapsing mine, blasts of red and black slamming into the crumbling floor and walls as they fled. The knowledge that he’d died trying to get information for them haunting their steps.

“Which brings me to the topic I wished to discuss with you.” Borgok's eyes met the Keeper's as he spoke. “I am no warrior. I'm a metalsmith, and when I served in Ranrok's army, I lent him my hammer, crafted weapons and tools for him. In the wake of Ranrok's failures, I no longer wished to craft the tools of death and so I have lent my skill to another.”

To another, the Keeper's eyes narrowed.

“For many centuries, we've attempted to fight for equality. Hundreds of rebellions and decades of war, yet we have made no progress, only served to deepen wizardkind's hatred for us.” Borgok shook his head, his expression changing to one of resolve and determination. “As such, the wiser of our kind have set their sights on economic victory instead. We shall make ourselves indispensable to wizardkind, that they may come to need us, to rely upon us. Perhaps then, we will have equality.”

The Keeper's eyebrows rose.

“It is the harder path, the slower and less satisfying one. So, naturally, there are those who are impatient and angry, like Ranrok was, my foolish nephew.” Borgok shook his head once more. “I would ask that you help me quell one such rising rebellion leader. Lest he successfully start a war with the wizarding world and throw us back into the cycle of blood and death, setting us back in our economic progress.”

The Keeper hummed thoughtfully, well, that was quite an ask. “I see where you're coming from and you have my sympathy, but this is no small request. What makes you think I can even do anything about him?”

Borgok chuckled knowingly. “Your reputation precedes you, child. I know full well how powerful you are, the armour I craft are not cheap tin. Yet the rare few that made it back from an encounter with you bore such grievous injury, as though they’d worn mere parchment into battle.”

The Keeper couldn't quite suppress their grin at his words. “Fair enough, still, I would be taking on extreme risk by aiding you. Ranrok was after both my life and property, so I had no choice but to engage him. I bear no such obligation here, if you want my assistance, you will need to make it worth the danger.”

The goblin nodded. “That is reasonable, what might you desire as compensation then?”

The Keeper folded their arms, that was a good question.

Seeing their indecision, Borgok smiled. “Tell you what, as a token of goodwill, I'll gift you something to sweeten the deal. Opportunity.”

The Keeper cocked an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“This pub is more than a mere gathering place.” Borgok elaborated, gesturing towards the bar where a tall elder gentleman was wiping a glass with some cloth. “That there, is the owner of this establishment. Order a glass of Strawberry Milk with a Shot of Brandy and a Cinnamon Stick. And then ask him for Borgok's bounty request and tell him I'm open for green.”

The Keeper glanced at the bar. Bounty request. That meant that this bar was a place one could put out bounties, a prickle of excitement crept up their spine, and take them. A source of freelance work. They were already taking requests in and around Hogwarts, but the kind of work for bounty hunters would surely be more lucrative than what children and villagers had to offer.

Albeit likely more dangerous too, but still.

“Alright.” The Keeper gave him a nod and stood.

Borgok waved a hand leisurely as they left the table. “Take your time.”

Striding over to the bar, the Keeper slid onto a barstool and the bartender moved over to attend them, setting down the glass he'd been cleaning.

The aged man had neatly combed back white hair, and curious black eyes that examined them from behind a tiny pair of round spectacles as he approached. He wore a simple but elegant suit that didn't quite disguise the powerful build beneath it, with an apron around his waist and a pair of white gloves.

His voice was deep and gravelly, as he greeted them with a polite smile. “Good evening, what can I get you?”

“Strawberry Milk with a Shot of Brandy and a Cinnamon Stick.” The Keeper replied curtly, restraining their excitement with some difficulty.

“Welcome to the Phantom Mercenaries, it's been a while since we've had a new face seeking to join our guild.” The bartender hummed, his expression unreadable as he began mixing, assumably, the requested drink. By hand, to their surprise, asking casually. “I couldn’t help but notice that you weren't affected by my waitress’ Veela charm. You don’t look quite that young. I take it you're only attracted to specific people or men exclusively?”

“I fail to see how that's any of your business.” The Keeper replied evenly. So, that woman was a creature. That explained the shock when her advances failed to garner a response from them.

The bartender chuckled. “Strictly-business sort, I see. Very well then. Any preferences for bounty types?”

“Not particularly, but for starters, I'm interested in taking Borgok's bounty request. He's open for green.” The Keeper answered smoothly, and the man's hands stilled.

Frowning at them, the bartender set down his shaker. “Is that so... look, kid. Eight Hunters have already attempted that job. Two of them abandoned the bounty after sustaining severe injury and the rest simply never returned for their check-ins. It's not a job I'd recommend for a fresh-faced greenie's first run.”

The Keeper bristled. “I'll be the judge of that, thanks.”

The man shrugged, picking his shaker up and continuing his mixing. “Sure, don't take it personally kid, it's just my duty to warn you.”

The Keeper frowned in confusion at his sudden change of tone.

“Glacius.” He muttered, flashing them a grin as he placed a tall sling glass of pale pink liquid before them, wisps of cold steam wafting from its rim. “A kid who survived having a bounty on their head for a year doesn't need my protection.”

“I had a bounty on me?” The Keeper frowned down at the drink suspiciously and the elder man chuckled.

“Rookwood placed one on you. It was lifted when you killed him, of course. But the number of Hunters that died in the attempts dissuaded others rather quickly.” The bartender explained, before nodding at the drink. “Don't worry, kid. It's not what you ordered, just a strawberry milk mocktail. Wouldn’t want you doing business with a foggy head, might find yourself bartering away your soul.”

The Keeper raised an eyebrow at the man, and he chuckled again. “I guess that paranoia is how you survived.”

With that, the man took a spoon, stirred the drink, scooped some, poured it into his mouth and swallowed. “There, it's not poisoned. I look forward to working with you.”

Tipping their head in gratitude, the Keeper lifted the glass and took a sip, drinking carefully to avoid accidentally swallowing the Mandrake leaf under their tongue.

In truth, they'd never had strawberry milk before, let alone in a mocktail with other fruits, but it was surprisingly pleasant, perhaps a little sweet for their taste, the cinnamon stick was an interesting touch too. More importantly, it was nice that the man didn't seem to take offence at their suspicion, they had a feeling they would fit in well here.

“A lot of the Hunters that took the bounty for you worked with Rookwood to track you down.” The bartender continued, stooping to rummage through the shelves under the counter. “We've got a decent network, but most wouldn't turn down the far reach of the Rookwood Gang's arm.”

That reminded the Keeper of the occasions that they would come across what they'd thought were Ashwinders or Poachers travelling in pairs or alone. Perhaps those were actually bounty hunting Mercenaries all along.

“Aha, here we go.” The bartender straightened with a scroll in his hands, which he presented to the Keeper. “Here's the contract for Borgok's bounty, you're welcome to give it a read.”

Taking the scroll from him, the Keeper unrolled it and examined its contents. Upon the parchment was the image of a goblin, along with his name, Gnarlak, apparently. With the promise of a reward that was open to negotiation scribbled beneath the portrait.

The Keeper frowned, well that wasn't much to go on.

“That's why it's not recommended for greenies.” The bartender chuckled wryly. “Borgok knows very little of that goblin's whereabouts. So, you'll have to do much of the investigation yourself, on top of infiltration and assassination.”

“And you?” The Keeper asked, rolling up the parchment once more and returning it, before picking up their glass again. “Anything you can share about Gnarlak or Borgok?”

The bartender gave a thoughtful hum, idly taking up another glass and beginning to clean it with a cloth. “Borgok's one of the finest metalsmiths amongst the goblins, I heard that Gnarlak tried to recruit him, but Borgok refused, took up work for Gringotts’ instead, it seems.”

The Keeper nodded, Borgok had spoken of economic warfare, so that tracked. Hang on, if Borgok had done metalsmithing for Ranrok, that meant...

“Gnarlak’s an odd one, he was one of Ranrok's commanders and, word on the street is that he was holding a candle for the late rebellion leader. It's only been two years but he's a bit of a rising star, picked up both the remains of Ranrok's Loyalists, and the goblins who were disappointed with Ranrok.” The man paused thoughtfully for a moment.

“Honestly, it's not surprising that Borgok wants him dead, the kill and death rates for Gnarlak’s Loyalists are absurdly high. And the goblin has fast gained a reputation for being a callous commander. It's a wonder why his men seem so loyal and willing to follow him.” The bartender shrugged. “That's about all I've got. The rest you'll need to scrounge up on your own.”

Great, relying on gossip as always.

“I see, thanks.” The Keeper sighed internally and looked down, finding their glass to be almost empty. When did that happen?

“Still keen on taking the job?” The bartender asked. “Over here, most requesters aren't willing to take a greenie with no jobs under their belt. Each failed attempt costs time and makes the target more aware that they're being targeted, lowering the rate of success.”

The elder man began cleaning the shaker, again by hand. Maybe he was bored or something. “So, if you clear this one, you won't have to wait for another requester who's open for greens. But considering the difficulty of this one and your lack of experience, it might be wiser to wait.”

A smirk lifted the corner of the bartender's mouth. “After all, fighting off attackers isn't quite the same as tracking prey.”

The Keeper snorted, finished off the last of their glass, and stood. “I'm a quick learner.”

“Come back with Borgok when you've completed negotiations then.” The bartender chuckled, collecting their empty glass and began cleaning it as the Keeper returned to the table where Borgok still sat, drinking from their untouched mug of water.

“That's fifty galleons, my friend.” The Keeper quipped as they retook their seat.

“They can put it on my tab.” Borgok gave them a deep chuckle in response. “So, what do you say?”

“I'm keen.” The Keeper smirked.

“Excellent.” Borgok grinned. “The look in your eyes tells me you have found something you want from me.”

“Indeed, I have.” The Keeper nodded. “You did metalsmithing for Ranrok, and if I'm not wrong, that means you made collars and armlets of goblin silver for him.”

Borgok's bushy eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “That I did. However, I do not know how Ranrok infused them with power. He never shared that much with me.”

“That's quite alright.” The Keeper shook their head. “I'd simply like you to make those for me.”

“Exactly what use might you have for a dragon collar?” The goblin tilted his head in confusion. ��Surely you don't have a dragon.”

“I don't want collars for dragons.” The Keeper grimaced, recalling the dragon that had been forced to attack their carriage on the way to Hogwarts. They would never place such a thing on the Hebridean Black’s child. “I want collars of the same design. But sized for human necks.”

Borgok's eyes widened, and he frowned deeply. “I'm not sure I want to know what you want with such a thing.”

“You don't.” The Keeper supplied. “I'll even pay you for the cost of crafting them and arrange for them to be returned to you upon my death.”

Borgok's eyebrows went right back up. “On top of fulfilling my bounty request?”

“Yes.” The Keeper nodded.

The goblin folded his arms and leaned back in his seat in thought. This was an incredibly good deal for him, he couldn’t possibly turn it down, this the Keeper was certain of. Well, from a profit standpoint at least.

“They're made from goblin silver, you do realise how costly they will be to craft?” Borgok finally asked.

“I am aware.” The Keeper nodded.

However, if they managed to sell the dragon parts, they'd be doing well financially for a while. Not to mention, Penny's work in Hogsmeade and any bounties they cleared would help lighten the load too. Assuming they managed to clear Borgok's of course.

“...how many do you think you'll want?” Borgok asked somewhat grudgingly.

“Two... for now. Along with a single armlet.” The Keeper replied thoughtfully. “And, if you're amenable, I would also come to you for other constructs I need made from goblin silver, I have need of a cauldron as well.”

Borgok's expression was pinched for several minutes, and they decided to remind him how much he needed them. Hey, he was the one talking about making the goblins indispensable to wizardkind for leverage, they were just doing the same.

“I wouldn't mind helping you to suppress aggressive goblin rebellion leaders in the future as well, of course. I care as much as you do about ensuring that Lodgok's sacrifice, in the name of peaceful protest, goes well.” They offered, and honestly, they meant it too.

Lodgok was the first person to give their life for the Keeper. They had never wanted to undo something quite as much as they had in that moment. They'd never screamed no in denial with as much desperation, as they had when his body broke against the rocks, not even when they were first forced to their knees on cold stone.

The Keeper had been utterly unprepared for how loss would feel. They, who had had next to nothing for so long. A disgusting sensation that they had been forced to feel again and again since then. One they knew would attempt to force itself into their life relentlessly for the rest of their days, but one they would rail against with equal persistence for as long as they were able.

Borgok took a deep breath in response to their words. “...very well. I will supply you with any goblin silver metalsmithing you require. On the condition that you offer your continued aid in quelling goblin rebellion leaders that may lead our peoples to war and that you will return my work upon your passing.”

“Deal. Shall we?” The Keeper gestured towards the bar counter as they stood, and Borgok nodded, following them to the bar.

“Come to an agreement then?” The bartender asked pleasantly and the two nodded as they took their seats upon the barstools.

“Now, first off.” The bartender turned to the Keeper with a small smile. “There is the matter of your name. You may use your real name or an alias for business and contracts. You can change it later, but I'd recommend that you avoid doing so since it'll make it difficult to recognise you.”

The Keeper sighed. Names, they really couldn't bother to come up with something, but they probably shouldn’t use their real one... ugh, fine. “Salamander.”

“You're in luck, that isn't currently in use by any of our mercenaries. And the last Salamander died about sixty years back without much to his name.” With a flourish, the bartender unrolled the scroll of parchment he'd presented to them before and offered Borgok a dark red quill. “Please write the details of your agreement upon the back of this contract.”

The goblin grimaced and accepted a small shot glass from the bartender as well, knocking back its contents before he began writing the terms they'd agreed upon before.

A moment later, Borgok passed the parchment and quill to the Keeper and the bartender offered them a shot glass as well, all while keeping his eyes averted from the contract.

“A simple painkiller mixed with wiggenweld potion.” The elder man explained with a faint smirk. “You'll need to write the exact words Borgok wrote, just beneath it, and then sign off at the bottom right corner. And make certain that you concur entirely with the terms, you will not be able to change them later without agreement from Borgok.”

The Keeper frowned at the glass of light green liquid for a moment, getting a feeling that they knew where this was going, considering that neither they nor Borgok had been given any ink. So, they accepted the shot and knocked it back. Giving the contract one last look over to double check, they began writing.

Immediately, they felt their back begin to itch and burn, the red ink that flowed from the quill lining up perfectly with the dull and uncomfortable sensation spreading across their skin. Yup, this quill was using their blood and carving up their back while at it.

At least the text was short, and they quickly felt the wiggenweld stitching their wounds closed as they finished writing, wondering idly how much more painful this would have been without the shot.

The moment their signature was done, their text glowed bright red and drifted up along the parchment to fuse with Borgok's, leaving their signatures separate, one on the left and the other on the right.

As the red glow slowly faded from the parchment, the bartender, who was still keeping his eyes averted from the contract, spoke. “Now then, little greenie, please roll up the parchment.”

The Keeper side-eyed him with some irritation at the nickname, but did as instructed. The elder man then tapped the scroll with his wand and seemingly lifted a second copy of the contract out of itself. Next, he pulled out two ribbons, a stick of wax, and a seal stamp, tied up both the scrolls individually, heated the wax over a candle, before sealing the two ribbons with said wax, his movements practiced and fluid.

Each time his stamp pressed down, the wax shone a bright blue before hardening, and when he lifted the stamp, a tiny burst of blue flame flickered into being over the wax seal, before disappearing in a flash of light. Its ephemeral glow reminding the Keeper of the way phantoms were depicted, as tiny blue flames floating around them called Hitodama, in a Japanese fairytale that Ominis had been reading last week.

Perhaps that was the origin of this pub's name, perhaps not.

The bartender then passed the first scroll to Borgok, and the second to the Keeper with a smile. “Congratulations, Salamander, you've just accepted your first bounty request as a Phantom's Mercenary. You are now an honorary member of my guild.”

“Honorary?” The Keeper cocked an eyebrow as they accepted the scroll, examining the blue wax seal with a flame symbol emblazoned upon it.

The bartender flashed them a sharp grin. “Of course, you'll have to actually complete at least one contract in order to be a bona-fide Mercenary.”

“Of course.” The Keeper huffed in amusement as they tucked the contract away in their satchel. “In that case, do look forward to my official membership.”

“I’m sure I will.” The bartender chuckled as he dripped more wax onto a small dish. “You, and only you, will be able to remove the seal any time you wish to view the contents of the contract, should you simply tie it back up, the wax will seal itself again.”

The bartender then stamped the seal onto the wax, producing yet another blue flame as he continued. “Upon completion, I will place a different stamp upon the wax, that will seal the terms agreed upon. If the request is abandoned or one of you is deceased, I will dissolve this wax seal and the contract will be broken along with it.”

He raised the, now hardened, blue wax token, about the size of a chocolate frog, and rotated it for them to see. On one side was an imprint of Borgok's face and on the other, the Keeper's. “You, however, will not be able to dissolve the contract, even should you shred the parchment to dust or burn it.”

The bartender stooped to deposit the wax token somewhere behind the counter. “You'll also need to check-in with me at least once a month, elsewise I shall assume that you have abandoned the request or have perished. And it's considered good practice to provide me with updates weekly that I can pass on to the requester or that you update them yourself.”

The Keeper nodded. “I'll try, but I'm still in Hogwarts, so I'll only be able to visit on Saturday nights at best.”

The bartender shot them an amused look and they rolled their eyes in response.

“Opening hours are six in the evening till six in the morning, an owl addressed to Alasdair, Phantom's Flask, will find me easily enough.” At his words, the Keeper belatedly realised that they hadn't gotten the bartender's name till now.

“Alright, thanks.” The Keeper nodded again, catching movement out of the corner of their eye, near the staircase landing, and soon spotted Ominis striding leisurely down the stairs, pausing to speak with the doorman. “How much for the drink?

“It's your first drink, so it's on the house.” Alasdair waved a hand lazily. “Ask for the house special in the future, if you're here for Merc business.”

“Got it, and how much for the information?” The corner of the Keeper’s mouth lifted and so too did the elder man's.

“Also on the house, for my Mercenaries at least.” Alasdair chuckled. “It benefits me too if my guildmembers have a reputation for success. So, I only charge Mercs from other guilds.”

A smirk spread across the bartender's face, the lens of his spectacles catching the light as he spoke. “Besides, you've killed a lot of my Hunters. I have high hopes that your membership will cover my losses.”

The Keeper chuckled wryly, keeping an ear out for the sound of Ominis leaving the pub. “In that case, I'd appreciate it if you could help me get in touch with the two that returned from attempting to clear Borgok's bounty request.”

Alasdair hummed thoughtfully. “One of them should be dropping by next Saturday night to give me an update on their current bounty. If you come again, I can introduce you, but anything you want from them, will be up to you to wrangle.”

“Alright, thanks.” The Keeper nodded, distantly hearing the doors of the pub open for Ominis to leave. “I'll be back next week then.”

“Happy hunting.” The bartender waved his cloth at them casually.

“I look forward to your results.” Borgok flashed them a faint smile.

The Keeper gave the goblin a parting nod as well, before lifting their hood and leaving the pub behind Ominis.

“You should have waited, and conferred with us, before joining some mercenary guild and signing a blood contract!” Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose.

The Keeper sighed. “I didn't see any reason to wait, it's an incredible opportunity and this is exactly the type of work I enjoy. I would have insisted on taking the job anyway even if I'd waited to tell you two about it.”

Ominis didn't look too pleased with that statement and the Keeper knew that he was probably more hurt than anything else.

“Ominis, darling, I love you deeply, but this is what I want to do. You wouldn't like it if I told you what to do with your life, would you?” The Keeper reasoned, reaching across the Feldcroft table, that they and their partners were seated around, to touch Ominis’ hand.

“But it's dangerous!” Ominis protested, withdrawing his hand from their reach. “And these are dangerous people you're choosing to work with.”

“Well, so are some of the requests I'm already taking.” The Keeper chuckled. “If anything, I think it's better to have a network and people I can look to for assistance. To work in a place that has rules and security.”

“That bartender does sound like a nice chap.” Sebastian agreed. “Offering to help you and all.”

“My entire life has been fraught with danger, I'd probably feel uncomfortable if that changed.” The Keeper flashed a wry smile. “I grew up in these types of places, with these types of people. If anything, it feels more natural and comfortable than Hogwarts.”

Ominis sighed and folded his arms. “I suppose I just can't imagine why you would want to work in that sort of environment. To put yourself in danger when you know I'll worry.”

“We've talked about this before, haven't we? With Sebastian wanting to be a Curse Breaker.” Reaching out to take Ominis’ hands and move them from their folded position, the Keeper placed a kiss against his knuckles. “We are partners, that means we work together and support each other as equals. Not control each other, or force each other to do what we want. I'm sure you don't want to be part of such a family again.”

Ominis grimaced, thinking clearly of his parents’ ‘traditions’.

“I'll take your feelings and advice into consideration when I act, and bend as much as I can, but if we let ourselves think we can forcefully change each other, well...” The Keeper gave him a faint smile. “You'll just have to remember that I wouldn't needlessly hurt you and try to respect my decisions, even if you don't understand them. As I would for you.”

“...I remember.” With a sigh, Ominis shook his head. “Alright, let's hear your reasons then, what do you even need goblin silver for?”

The Keeper smiled, he would get there, eventually. “As the only material that can contain energy extracted with my Ancient Magic, we will need someone who is willing to craft tools for us from goblin silver.”

“Like a cauldron.” Sebastian volunteered.

“And storage for the energies.” The Keeper continued, giving him a nod. “I also noticed that Ranrok's Loyalists seemed to be able to use Emotional Pain energy through the armlets they wore. It'd be extremely useful if I can store energy in those rather than always using cumbersome jars to take a hit.”

Sebastian hummed thoughtfully. “I wonder if we could make other objects that can release stored energies.”

“Probably.” The Keeper nodded. “I was thinking of investigating the design of the tools he sells us, I doubt I could come close to crafting something with as much skill as he, but I had an idea for a storage system that would require a lot of goblin silver.”

“Yeah yeah, sounds great.” Sebastian waved a dismissive hand, before grinning. “But imagine this...”

He paused, spreading his hands dramatically. “A dagger laced with Fear.”

Ominis sighed and the Keeper gave a fond chuckle.

“Oh, come on, you can't pretend that doesn't sound absolutely wild.” Sebastian implored, gesturing animatedly. “A nightmare inducing blade, a poisoned dagger that isn't fatal! But also, can't be undone with a simple finite by another enemy. Unlike petrificus totalus.”

Ominis blinked for a bit, before humming thoughtfully. “...I suppose I don't mind the idea of giving them a more certain means to disarm without killing.”

“See?” Sebastian beamed at Ominis, shooting the Keeper a quick wink.

Ominis cocked an eyebrow in response and there was a moment of bewildered silence, before realisation struck him and Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

A small, amused smile lifted the corner of Ominis lips, and he sighed. “Yes well, I guess I can understand the appeal.”

The Keeper was still debating whether to mention the collars or not, when Ominis folded his arms. “Anything else you'd like to mention?”

They blinked at him in surprise and Ominis huffed with some impatience. “You haven't moved or made a whit of sound for a while. You're only so still before you tell me something potentially upsetting. Out with it then.”

The Keeper hesitated for a moment but decided to be honest. “Dragons are untameable. Yet Ranrok managed to set a dragon upon Fig and I in fifth-year. I believe that it was the collar, laced with Pain, and placed around its neck that allowed him to control it.”

Both boys frowned and Sebastian hesitantly asked. “You're not-”

“Of course not.” The Keeper quickly interrupted. “I would never collar our dragon chick or do anything so barbaric, its mother gave it to us that it may be free, and that is my intention as well.”

Their partners visibly sagged in relief and the Keeper was mildly offended that the two would even think them capable of such a thing.

“I want to investigate how the collar functions and if it can control a dragon, surely it would work easily on humans.” The Keeper explained and Ominis’ eyes widened.

Sebastian, as always, caught on immediately. “For our guests, right? That makes sense, if we can control them using the collars, it'd be another means of preventing escape.”

“And we could even utilise the collars in our experiments to inject small amounts of energies over time, if I can figure out how to operate them.” The Keeper agreed.

“That's an if.” Ominis countered.

“Yes, I might not figure it out, but knowledge is power, and I'd like to understand my abilities and perhaps, if it's possible to restore an aura after it's been torn.” The Keeper explained. “All part of ensuring that this process is as well understood as possible, before I potentially damage Anne.”

Ominis almost looked surprised at the reminder, and the Keeper wondered how long it'd been since he'd thought of her, as a shade of guilt flickered across his face.

“I suppose that makes sense. I still don't like it, but I'm sorry for getting worked up so quickly, I just...” Ominis trailed off with a sigh.

“It's quite alright. If anything, that panicked state is more painful for you than us.” The Keeper wore a sympathetic smile as they lightly caressed his cheek.

“That's right, you don’t need to worry about us. You get upset because you care. And we know that. And appreciate it.” Sebastian added.

Ominis hesitated for a moment, like he was trying to figure something out, before he shook his head and gave the two a soft smile. “Thank you. For understanding.”

“Of course, we love you.” The Keeper chuckled. “Now, let's not let this distract from your success in acquiring the needed Re'em blood earlier tonight.”

“Oh, yes, you have to tell us all about it!” Sebastian nodded eagerly.

“There's really not much to tell, I'm afraid.” Ominis chuckled. “The queue was longer than I expected, but considering that the poacher vendor would host one customer at a time, and the vendor is only in business once a week, I shouldn't have been surprised.”

“I imagine privacy is an issue for patrons of such a store.” Sebastian snickered.

“Indeed, I managed to trade the two gallons of dragon's blood that I brought with me for four pints of Re'em blood.” Ominis explained. “The vendor said that he would trade a gallon of Re'em blood for a pair of dragon kidneys next week, he's got a buyer looking to buy as many of them as possible.”

“Creepy.” The Keeper commented.

“No less than us asking for the same with Re'em blood.” Ominis chuckled with a wry smile.

“Heh, can't argue with that one.” Sebastian laughed along sheepishly.

“Regardless, he probably knows we've got a dragon chick and are selling its parent's parts.” The Keeper murmured. “It can't be helped, for someone well versed in Poaching, but at least we needn’t fear the vendor tattling on us or anything.”

“Yes well, he did seem mildly amused, perhaps he imagined me to be a pampered noble who'd demanded a dragon for a birthday gift.” Ominis rolled his eyes.

“Hey, at least the getup worked.” Sebastian dragged his chair across the carpet, making a ghastly sound, just to bump shoulders with Ominis and murmur into his ear. “Though, while I think you looked quite dashing in it, I much prefer you out of it.”

Immediately, Ominis’ cheeks reddened, and he covered his face with one hand, while planting the other into Sebastian's, shoving the brunet an arm's length away. “Don't just-”

The Keeper laughed lightly as Sebastian's muffled complaints and Ominis’ flustered bluster filled the air. Perfect, everything was going according to plan. Now, all they needed was to buy some mead, mix the milk substitute, and then wait for the egg to actually hatch next weekend.

If it hatched at all.

Fuck.

The wait was going to be absolutely unbearable.

“Oh, I think I need to use the loo for a bit.” Ominis grimaced, his words causing the Keeper and Sebastian to halt in their tracks, pausing in the otherwise empty hallway outside the Slytherin common room, on their way to breakfast in the great hall.

“Again?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

Ominis huffed in annoyance and some embarrassment. “Yes well, my stomach seems to be a tad upset at the moment.”

“We can wait for you.” The Keeper offered, shoving Sebastian lightly in the arm. Perhaps Ominis’ stomach-ache was because he was anxious about the egg’s hatching too.

“No, it's fine, you two go on ahead. I'll catch up.” Ominis shook his head and waved them on as he pushed open the door to the boys’ wash closets.

“Take your time!” Sebastian called after him and the Keeper gave him a pointed look. “What? I'm allowed to ask questions, aren't I? It’s barely been fifteen minutes since he last went.”

The Keeper shook their head with a helpless smile, continuing on towards the great hall. “Heaven knows why he even likes a crass buffoon like you.”

Sebastian grinned roguishly as he followed with a swagger. “It's the boorish charm I bet, posh princelings like a little ruffian between the sheets.”

“Ah yes, that must be it.” The Keeper snorted, shaking their head in amusement. “Wonder what my pull is.”

“Your Slytherin charm, no doubt.” Sebastian snickered. “Rationalising things for him so he can do what he wants guilt-free.”

“Heh, sounds about right.” The Keeper chuckled, and in the calm silence that followed, their mind returned to the state of just pure stress it'd been stuck in before the interruption.

Today was the day they'd estimated, when the dragon egg would hatch, and they were anxious to head to Dìon to wait on standby. Tynx was on orders to owl immediately if the egg showed signs of hatching early, and so far, there hadn't been a letter saying that ‘the chick is arriving’.

Hopefully it would hatch before they had to leave for Natty's Saturday evening lesson and then to visit the Phantom's Flask tonight. Or perhaps tomorrow, during the day, before they had to return to Hogwarts. They wanted to be there when the eg-

“Woah!” Sebastian exclaimed as the Keeper's right foot landed on something that was decidedly not Floor and slid forward.

Quickly, he grabbed their arm to steady them before whatever they'd stepped on made them do an unseemly split in the middle of the empty hallway. Clinging to his supporting arm, the Keeper glared down at the offending object, finding it to be a small journal or notebook.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked with a faint smile.

“Yes. No thanks to this.” The Keeper replied dryly, removing their foot from the small book and bending down to collect it. “Now, who could have dropped this?”

“Looks like a diary perhaps, maybe there's a name in it?” Sebastian suggested, peering curiously at the journal over their shoulder.

“Let's see...” As they opened the book to see if he was correct, its well flattened spine naturally flipped to what seemed to be the latest entry, and the Keeper distantly heard hurried footsteps coming from just ahead of them.

Dear diary,

Wonderful news! Father finally agreed to try speaking with the head of the Gaun-

The volume of the footsteps intensified, but before the Keeper could even lift their head, the small book was abruptly yanked from their grasp.

“That's mine!” They were met with the mildly familiar voice and equally familiar face of a younger Slytherin girl, now clutching the book protectively to her chest and glaring angrily at them. “What do you think you're doing with my diary!?”

The Keeper raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the girl. “Well, your diary almost gave me a nasty fall, might want to take better care of your belongings.”

The girl jabbed an accusatory finger in their face. “You were caught thumbing through my personal property, and you dare claim that you didn't steal it!?”

The Keeper glared at the bright magenta tipped finger in their face. Ah, right, Jolene. The cowardly girl who'd disappointed Ominis. “Tread carefully, that is a bold accusation.”

The thinly veiled threat in their voice seemed to get through to her, and Jolene shrunk back, biting her lip and retracting her hand to clutch at her diary.

“You'll see, you're not the only ones who can get close to Ominis anymore, just because you're both orphans!” With that, the redhead fled in the direction of the great hall.

Sebastian stared at her retreating figure with an incredulous expression on his face. “Excuse me? Did she just imply that we're only able to be close to Ominis because we don't have parents? What in Merlin's name...”

The Keeper shook their head exasperatedly. “Hell if I know, girl sounds right barmy.”

A moment of irritated silence passed.

“Should we...?” Sebastian asked, not needing to say much for them to know what he was asking.

“I don't see much reason to, he doesn't need further disappointment.” The Keeper shook their head and Sebastian nodded. “He thinks well of her, let him dream.”

“Good point, I wouldn’t even know how to start explaining the ridiculousness that just occurred.” He sighed. “Not sure what to make of her statement either.”

“I imagine she's jealous? Maybe Ominis’ impression that she'd been intimidated into silence by her parents held water after all.” The Keeper shrugged. “Don't know why she assumes we wouldn't still be close to Ominis even if we had disapproving parents like hers.”

“Not our problem she doesn't have a spine.” Sebastian snorted.

“And I don't think it needs be his problem either.” The Keeper pointed out.

“Agreed.” Sebastian nodded firmly.

“Besides, he's clearly worried enough about the chick.” The Keeper sighed, like themselves. “We don't need to stress him further.”

Sebastian's eyes widened. “Ohhhh, that's why he had to use the loo!”

The Keeper stared at him for a moment, he hadn't realised? “Yes?”

Sebastian stared blankly at them for another moment, before dropping his fist into his other palm. “And that's why you didn't notice the book on the floor, you're stressed about it too!”

The Keeper paused, huh, that was unexpected. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

They sighed, and Sebastian's eyes softened.

Glancing around, he ascertained that the hall was empty once more, before stepping closer and placing a warm hand atop the Keeper's head. “Hey, it'll be alright, the chick's going to hatch just fine, and then we'll be busy as hell for the next two years.”

The Keeper's eyes slipped shut, allowing him to comfort them for a moment, before smiling and opening their eyes again. “Of course we are, but I'm still going to worry about it, and you can't stop me.”

“I guess it wouldn't be you if you weren't overplanning everything.” Sebastian shook his head with a helpless grin as he retrieved his hand.

“Well, I’d be less worried if Ominis could see into the egg.” The Keeper sighed, of course the bloody thing would have magic that interfered with his wand sight.

“I thought I said the two of you didn't need to wait for me.” Ominis voice came from behind them and the two turned to see him approaching at a leisurely pace.

“Feeling better?” Sebastian asked, placing a hand on their blind partner's back and giving it a gentle rub.

“Mostly.” Ominis sighed. “Not sure I've got much of an appetite for breakfast to be honest.”

The Keeper grimaced. “Yeah, me neither.”

Sebastian was about to add his two cents, when a very harried looking owl shot through the air and dropped a letter onto his head. “Ack!”

“Wait, is that-” The Keeper stooped to pick the letter off the floor while Sebastian glared at the dumb bird.

Inside the envelope was a single phrase. ‘The chick is arriving.’

“Guys, we've got to get to Dìon. It's hatching!” The Keeper immediately took off in the direction of the nearest floo, they'd need to fly to Dìon after flooing, so they didn't have much time.

“Now!?” Ominis exclaimed. “Oh, Merlin.”

“Come on!” Sebastian grabbed Ominis hand with a broad grin and dragged him along.

The moment the Keeper's feet touched the floor, they were already running towards the kitchens’ side entrance, quickly followed by the two boys, while Sepulchria found a nice spot to lie down for a rest after the breakneck pace they’d put her through.

Darting through the empty frame, they really needed to get the doors done, the Keeper was met with the heart-stopping sight of the purple egg, resting on a large stack of towels in the middle of the kitchen island counter.

With a long crack along its surface.

“Master! Eggy is hatching!” Tibsy squealed excitedly from her spot beside the counter, the other two elves standing beside her as well.

They barely heard her, taking a few steps forward to stand before it, while Tynx pulled Tibsy away so that the two boys could stand around the counter with the Keeper.

“Is it?” Ominis murmured, voice hushed with nerves.

“There's- there's a crack.” The Keeper's voice was strained, their breath shallow and anxious.

Good God if the baby wasn't actually alive in there, they were going to- Well, they weren't sure, but it wouldn't be pretty.

The egg shook and another crack formed on its surface.

“Oh!” Ominis jolted and his partners gave him a quizzical glance. “Sorry, I heard-”

Another hairline crack and a soft squeak came from the egg.

The egg shook and began to tip onto its side, and the Keeper immediately reached out to stabilise it, but Sebastian caught their hand, stopping them with a gentle reminder. “It's okay, let it figure its way out, the cloth'll keep it from getting injured.”

The Keeper took a deep breath, right. The book had said that the dragon needed to get out on its own or it wouldn't grow properly.

The egg landed on its side, nestled safely on the fluffy towels, and there was a thump from the inside, before another squeak.

“What if it's stuck?” Ominis asked worriedly.

“Oh, no no, I think it's got it.” Sebastian pointed at the egg. “On this side.”

The Keeper took a step around to peer at the egg from beside Sebastian, spotting a piece of the egg that had dislodged from the rest of the shell. There was another thump and the piece of shell dropped from the egg, revealing a scrawny black scaled leg, coated in a thin film of slime.

The leg then disappeared from sight, and they could hear the sound of the baby shifting inside, before a little snout emerged, tiny eyes blinking drowsily as its small jaws opened to release a high-pitched squeak.

Relief hit the Keeper like a boulder and a breathless laugh escaped them, it was alive.

Little innocent purple eyes examined them curiously from under the shell's shade and the Keeper reached a hand towards it slowly.

“Hey there...” The Keeper murmured softly, filled with wonder when the small creature didn't recoil in fear, but poked its snout out further, taking a curious sniff of their fingertips. “Want to come out?”

As they withdrew their hand in encouragement, the little dragon stretched its neck out to follow their fingers, only to be impeded by the remaining shell. The small creature seemed to remember what it'd been doing part way and began to push at the remaining shell once again, cracking more pieces off in its bid for freedom.

“It's so small.” Ominis’ voice was the gentlest they'd ever heard it, which was saying something.

“Yeah...” The Keeper agreed with a breathless chuckle, brushing aside some of the shell so that the dragon could have an easier time wiggling free.

The small creature squeaked as it tumbled from the shell's confines, flapping its tiny wings in an effort to right itself, struggling to hold its disproportionately larger head up on long spindly thin legs.

“There you go.” The Keeper beamed proudly, feeling oddly pleased at its meagre achievement.

Once it had its feet under it, the baby dragon lifted its head, staring with wide eyes at the world now revealed to it from beyond the confines of its shell. Its bright purple gaze ran over the kitchen walls, the three humans, and the three elves. Eventually settling on Sebastian, who had been oddly quiet since the dragon hatched, and to everyone's surprise, the little thing began to wobble across the counter.

Towards him.

“Um.” Sebastian stood stiff, eyeing it warily as it approached him. “Guys-”

The dragon didn't seem quite as uncertain as Sebastian was and continued its determined march towards him.

“Hey-” Sebastian tugged on the Keeper's sleeve. “Why's it coming at me-”

They eyed him with amusement, the boy looked like he was about to panic, especially since the dragon didn't seem to realise that it was reaching the edge of the counter.

Right as it did so, Sebastian quickly scooped the little dragon into his arms before it could fall, as the Keeper had known he would.

He stared down at the tiny dragon in his arms with wide eyes and the baby released a few surprised squeaks. Shifting itself into a more comfortable position, the dragon settled down in his arms contentedly, looking snug and cozy as it nuzzled against his chest.

“I think it likes you.” Ominis giggled.

“Not funny, what do I do-” Sebastian hissed and to his alarm, the baby dragon opened its mouth and began squealing loudly, revealing a maw devoid of teeth.

The Keeper glanced towards Tynx. “Do you have the milk substitute ready?”

“Yes, Master.” Tynx nodded, shuffling forward to offer them a bottle that Poppy had helped them fit with a rubber teat for the dragon beforehand, its glass insides filled with a thick golden-brown liquid.

Taking the bottle, they approached Sebastian. “Hold still and I'll feed it.”

Sebastian gave a shaky nod, and the Keeper held the bottle out to the dragon, tilting it so that a few drops dripped into the dragon's open mouth, before lowering it so that the dragon could follow the scent of food to the bottle.

“Smart little one.” The Keeper chuckled when the baby dragon latched onto the rubber teat and began to drink.

“Of course it is, it's ours.” Ominis waved a flippant hand, before turning his attention to the slab of stone they'd prepared in advance for the dragon as a bed, inspecting its temperature.

The Keeper shot him an amused look, before glancing towards the elves. “Tynx, collect the eggshell pieces and place them with the dragon parts. Tibsy, get some of the towels we prepared for its nest. Penny, bring us a towel damp with warm water.”

The three elves quickly went about following their instructions while the Keeper fed the dragon. When she returned, Ominis helped Tibsy to set up the nest they'd prepared for the dragon, before collecting the wet towel from Penny as the little creature finished its bottle.

The baby crooned softly as the Keeper withdrew the empty bottle and Ominis took their place to towel the dragon clean of the egg's fluids.

“No no, little one, no biting...” Ominis chuckled as the small dragon attempted to gnaw on his fingers with its soft gums, removing and running them along its jaw instead, to keep it distracted while he cleaned it.

“We'll have to feed it again in an hour, let's see if it wants to sleep till then.” The Keeper smiled fondly at the endearing sight.

They'd blocked off all the floor heating pipes except the one closest to the wall, resulting in the wood stove's smoke only travelling under one strip of the first floor, heating it before exiting through the chimney. The upper floors’ heating pipes were also blocked off to concentrate all the heat into that one strip, which they'd placed a large and flat heat-retentive slate stone over.

With a nod, Sebastian carefully set the drowsy dragon down on the towels that covered the slate, creating a warm and cosy nest for its occupant. The small creature pawed at the fluffy towels for a bit, wobbling about to investigate the warm spot, before deciding it was good enough and lay down to sleep.

As it did so, Sebastian examined his slime covered hands and clothing. “Ugh, gross.”

“Don't fuss, we can clean it.” Ominis flapped a hand at him dismissively.

“We need a name for the little one too.” The Keeper murmured thoughtfully.

Before they could say anything more however, the dragon abruptly sneezed in a burst of sparks that danced across the towels, and then sat frozen in place, seemingly startled by its own sneeze.

“Good thing I enhanced that cloth to be fire resistant.” The Keeper chuckled.

Almost as if in reaction to the Keeper's laughter, the dragon squeaked twice, attempted to cover its head with its overly small wings, before giving up and clawing the towels over its head instead, burrowing under the topmost layer of cloth.

“Aww, it's shy.” Ominis cooed in delight, clearly quite charmed by the little creature's mannerisms.

“Not shy enough to clean up after itself.” Sebastian grumbled.

Ominis shook his head. “It's a baby, Sebastian.”

The Keeper hummed lightly. “How about we call it Shy then?”

“Really?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow at them incredulously.

“Well.” Ominis gave a bemused cough. “It is shy.”

“Salazar save me- Look, we must have some standards, let's at least give it some deeper meaning.” Sebastian folded his arms in thought for a long silent moment, before his face lit up and he raised a hand. “How about Shai, that's Hebrew for Gift.”

The Keeper and Ominis blinked in surprise. When did he learn Hebrew of all things?

“I think that's quite lovely, it speaks to the responsibility we were bestowed and sounds like the little one's personality.” Ominis’ approving smile then took on a more coquettish tinge, tone light with exaggerated surprise. “My, Sebastian, how thoughtful of you.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Yes, I do think. Sometimes.”

“Sometimes.” The Keeper grinned fondly and was startled when a soft, low rumbling sound came from the little lump under the towels.

Ominis giggled again. “How precious, it seems to have fallen asleep.”

“I suppose we should leave Shai to rest...” The Keeper grimaced, finding themselves quite loath to leave the little one's side, when a familiar gurgle came from Sebastian's stomach and his cheeks coloured.

“Begging your pardons, but have Master and partners eaten breakfast yet?” Tynx asked tentatively.

“Not yet, we received your owl before that.” The Keeper answered, giving Sebastian a consoling pat on the shoulder.

“Then maybe Masters would like some food for eatings?” Tibsy asked eagerly.

The Keeper glanced back towards the dragon sleeping under the towels.

Seeing that, Penny spoke up. “Penny and others could bring food to Masters, then Masters can eat near little Shai.”

Ominis smiled. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, we can stand about the island counter for breakfast.”

With a nod, the Keeper returned their gaze to the elves. “Good thinking. Thank you, Penny, we'd appreciate something easy to eat while standing.”

The three house elves bowed and popped away in a heartbeat, while the three lovers seated themselves on the floor beside the sleeping dragon.

“That reminds me, how come you know Hebrew?” The Keeper asked Sebastian curiously, keeping their voice hushed and low.

Sebastian's face lit up, seeming quite happy to share. “Remember all the research I did into creating our clay Gōlems? Well, the ritual is Jewish and naturally, the book from the Restricted Section included several others within its pages, most were in Hebrew, and Shai was one of the words I picked up.”

The Keeper nodded, it'd been a simple ritual. They'd inscribed the word Emét, which meant Life, onto the surface of a clay statue and placed a paper with a shem spell written on it into its mouth, before chanting ‘Shem Hamephorash’, till the Gōlem was animated. The means of deactivating the Gōlem was quite elegant as well, as it merely required that the letter E in Emét be damaged or removed in some way, turning the word into Mét, which meant Death.

They wondered if the ease of the ritual was the reason it was even in the Restricted Section, or perhaps if another spell or ritual within the tome was to blame for its categorisation.

Though, the Jewish Gōlems hadn't been designed for battle and even after augmenting them with Ancient Magic, their combat capabilities hadn't been anywhere near as impressive as the Elder Keepers’ Ancient Magic Guardians. They really looked forward to learning how to make their own.

“It's honestly quite amazing how much you manage to keep up there.” The Keeper tapped the side of Sebastian's temple with a teasing smile. “No wonder you suck at everything else.”

“Why than- Hang on.” Sebastian paused, his proud grin quickly morphing into offended indignation.

Ominis struggled to contain his laughter, covering his mouth and leaning against the Keeper's side, shaking with muffled mirth while they grinned unapologetically at the brunet.

“Ugh.” Sebastian huffed, folding his arms and turning his head away. “All that effort and this is the thanks I get.”

The Keeper chuckled softly, reaching across to wrap their fist in his sticky robes. “No darling, this is the thanks you get.”

They pulled him close and pressed their lips against his, feeling him startle, before leaning closer, pushing them back against Ominis, who smiled, lacing his fingers with Sebastian's where they were braced against the floor for balance.

Meanwhile...

“Oh- that's!” Penny flushed and spun around to take her eyes off the three teenage humans entangled together on the floor.

Tibsy giggled beside her as she peered around the corner of the empty door frame and into the kitchens. “Penny should get used to seeing Masters being touchys! The Masters be doing it a lot and Tibsy is thinking them cute!”

 “I- I see!” Penny took a deep breath to calm her embarrassment. “But what should we do? Do we interrupt Masters?”

Tynx sighed, teenagers, the young mistress had been much alike when she got older, before she sold him to Gringotts at his urging. She’d needed the money after her father's... untimely death, and Tynx was the most valuable thing she'd inherited. While he did miss her dearly, he was ever so grateful that she'd given him the chance to be bought by the Keeper.

“Let's just leave the plates on the island counter, the Masters will notice when they smell the food.” Tynx suggested, snapping his fingers and levitating the tray he was carrying, sending it soaring through the air towards the counter along with another bottle of dragon milk substitute.

Following his example, Tibsy and Penny did the same with their trays.

“Tibsy is looking forwards to caring for little baby Shai, Tibsy is hoping that shy Shai likes Tibsy.” The elf squealed excitedly.

Penny nodded. “Master was saying they'll teach us to feed the baby dragon, Penny is hoping Shai doesn't bite.”

“Probably not till it grows some teeth...” Tynx sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead, he certainly wasn't looking forward to the increased workload. With the Masters in school, the elves would have to take care of the dragon during the weekdays. On top of their existing duties.

He knew well how difficult raising babies was, and Master's lady friend had said that Hebridean Black dragons were one of the most clever of dragon breeds. Which meant it would probably be more difficult to raise.

Heaving another sigh, Tynx looked at the two eager elves.

Well, at least they were having fun.

Notes:

Many thanks to my Patreon, cheeky_idler, for naming Shai as a Paid member with voting & suggestion power! ;)

Also, Sebastian's having dad panic haha-

The stuff about Gōlems is genuine real-world Jewish folklore by the way, I made an entire riddle-based dungeon for my DnD group around that actually. A shem is actually a paper with one of the names of God on it, but JK doesn't include divinities in the series, so I didn't write that in xP

Lodgok's death was actually the first time that MC was so emotional in the game, and when they talk to Fig about it later, I felt that the devs really wanted us to feel how upset MC was about that, and I really liked Lodgok, so xP

One of my favourite things to do in fanfiction writing, is to fill in the gaps, to pontificate on how the story went from point A to point B, to close and explain away loopholes.

A question that has bothered me since I was a kid was “why did the goblins stop having rebellions during Harry Potter's era?” Clearly, the wizards treat the goblins no better, yet all the rebellions Harry learnt about were from centuries before. I know the easy answer is that JK didn't want to make her story better and address systemic growth, but bear with me.

Another was “how does a marginalised race become so ‘essential’ to wizardkind yet still not have equality?” Well, I now know that's because racism is stupid and contradictory, and the inspiration for the goblins was potentially steeped in antisemitic conspiracy theories in JK's head.

But if on the assumption that these are unchangeable facts, no matter how unrealistic, how would things need to play out to arrive at the state of Harry Potter in 1996?

I decided to answer both at the same time.

Now, we all know that Borgok's ideal is not a solution for racism. Racists will disparage even when faced with evidence that their sense of supremacy is unfounded and are in fact more incensed when they need their victims, and the events in this fic are my answer to why, in 1996, goblins are still treated like shite but there aren't any ongoing rebellions.

I don't think a solution for racism is something that I could fit into twelve books, let alone a paragraph, but I think that's because there isn't a simple answer. There's awareness, exposure, interaction, and many possible paths but it's within no singular person's sole capability to achieve. It's a constant shared effort by everyone that'll get us closer to equality.

In other news, I think it goes without saying, but one should never enter a romantic relationship thinking “I can fix my partner”. Even things like addiction can't be forced out of a person, the individual has to want to change for themselves. If they don't want to change, you either suck it up or leave.

Of course, if the person does want to change, like Ominis’ desire to be less reactive, you should definitely support them and not expect them to do it on their own strength, but them wanting to change is the make or break of the success of change.

I also had to deal with the fact that in game, it's quite clear that petrificus totalus “kills” the enemies, but we all know that the spell doesn't kill, so I'm going with the idea that the Keeper casts petrificus totalus and then kills the enemies while they're petrified, as a precaution in case during the fight, the spell wears off or someone frees them from the spell.

I also decided to make the baby dragon toothless- haha, so that I don't have to write the baby biting someone, like JK did with her Norwegian Ridgeback baby. Let's just say different breeds are different at birth. Look I just want a cute sweet baby scene alright? x'D

Gezuz these are some long notes-

Here's a funny, my partner is so dense it took them three reads of the chapter to realise that Sebastian was saying he preferred seeing Ominis naked and not just in casual wear. That's the dummy who missed me pursuing them for 3 damn years until I finally gave up and confessed point-blank. ʱªʱªʱª(ᕑᗢूᓫ∗)

This is why I advocate direct and open communication, I could have saved myself a lot of time and made this year our 12th year anniversary rather than 10th lol- σ(*´∀｀*)

Man, again, my notes are too long for indents-

[aniseandspearmint]

AAAND STAR WARS WINS!!!

lols, I'm not too surprised, Star Wars IS one of the more dynamically fun worlds. And force sensitivity is a lure as much as it is a caution. It was a lot of fun to see everyone's plans for living in that world, and not just dying! (Tho, person that mentioned the ysalamiri, i don't remember who mentioned them only that someone did sorry, aren't those RARE and hard to come by? I'm pretty sure the Empire has the planet they originate from under lock and key, so you miiiiight have to come up with another plan there. Just sayin'. A for effort tho!)

(adding a read more bc this is getting long)

Middle Earth came in a pretty close second, again not too surprising, though I was gratified to see the caveat of 'you are an elf' was enough to make people hesitate! That's one heck of a pro vs con if you know enough bout the fandom! I was a bit disappointed with how many people that voted for this missed/ignored the whole 'YOU CANNOT AVOID THE DRAMA' part, but oh well.

Marvel came in 3rd, but a pretty distant 3rd which is interesting. I figured it would score higher given how popular it is in general, and the way i didn't specify 'no powers' like I did DC. The reason why I didn't say no powers btw, was because powers are much more likely to fall under 'ultimately useless' in the marvel universe. Like sure you could luck out, end up with a great one, or you could end up with lactose detection. Or making lights flicker a bit when you get near them. Or turning red in the presence of lies. (kudos to the one dude who picked marvel specifically to go become a marvel style vampire! interesting choice, you do you! you knew better than to go for btvs or spn for that!)

DC got a lot of good votes, with plenty of people still going 'heck yeah sign me up!' even with the 'no powers' stipulation. Which I added to prevent a sweep honestly, I had a hunch that would be a deal breaker/maker for a lot of people, just from some of the comments where people picked Marvel bc they thought that meant they would get neat powers, i was right!

Buffy, Supernatural, and Grimm were three long running paranormal urban fantasy type shows, with very different spins on similar plots, so I added all three of them to see which one would do better. Buffy won that section, which is nice! (still mildly concerned for the idiots people that said 'yay i'll pick buffy bc then i can be a vampire!' but oh well).

For the MANY people who asked, I specified you are NOT a Slayer for btvs bc that's at least partially tied to whether or not you have two X chromosomes in canon, which is what we're working with here, and i didn't want to limit people. There's other avenues of strength people can go for in that world. Kudos to the many people who remembered that, technically, anyone can learn magic in the buffyverse!

I'm a bit sad Grimm only got 3.2% of votes, but i guess it IS lesser known. Really tho, if you like Buffy and Supernatural, give it a try, it's interesting! Not perfect of course, but like, there is an actual GOOD ending? That managed to close up the series after six seasons in such a way that you weren't screaming about it anyway? There's a good mix of funny and scary, and Rosalee and Munroe are CUTE together. And individually wonderfully interesting as characters! Munroe is a legitimately SCARY dude, but he's also a mildly irritating vegan and a clock nerd. The mc (Nick) IS a cop *eyeroll* and it's largely a supernatural police procedural but honestly it's not too bad about the copaganda.

BACK TO THE POINT

Honestly Hunger Games and Game of Thrones were added bc I know they're popular, even if I don't like them, and I wanted to see why people would pick them... going over the tags and notes I've read over the last few days, only a few of the people who picked either of these read the instructions. More than one person was like 'I'm too old to be chosen for the games!' (for HG) and 'i will just move to the wilderness and avoid the plot!' (for GoT) (discarding answers where the person was like 'i am picking this to die faster!' bc boring) and seemed to think that would make things fine? Like, my dudes, the hunger games are still set in a horrible dystopia. Game of Thrones is STILL gonna have that Long Winter bullshit goin' on with zombies and a bunch of idiots fighting over power while they should be doing, oh, ANYTHING else. *squints at all of you doubtfully*

And the poll specified that you cannot avoid the drama. Which is at least SOME facet of The Plot. What ever that plot may be.

And then we have the crowning glory here, a FULL 4.8% voted for the SCP universe! over 350 people! Voted for a world that contains an ugly statue that SNAPS YOUR NECK if you stop looking at it while in its presence. A world with a pinata that beats small children to death, and with poison candy that kills older children and adults but turns younger kids into a copy of itself. A world where- never mind, we'll be here all day if i go on. You do you everyone who voted for this, but I'm going to pick a world WITHOUT pattern screamers and an eldritch horror from the beyond trapped on a minecraft server.

(Dramatic joking aside, a lot of y'all that picked the SCP universe had interesting reasons! I'm glad you had fun!)

I am deliberately not adding an 'Other' option! You have to pick form the above.

Be mindful of how the bit in parenthesis, where I've added them, these are NOT things to make your lives easier! :)

After you pick, feel free to say why and then also add a world you would actually want to end up in, if you've got one!

Reblog if you vote, I'm really curious what people would choose!