#i think ill sell it once its finished growing and then probably keep doing that. its real easy money

[skenpiel]

wonder if i should sell my hair

[monsterywriting]

Thenerius - pt 3

Masterlist

Word count: 4,581

AN: so i gave up on making this just 3 parts lol. will probably finish up in the next part. maybe. the last couple parts i posted weren’t showing up in the tags initially so fingers crossed this one does on the first try.

Alfore was nearly devoid of all life as your odd pair rode into town, the cold driving most residents indoors to the warmth of their hearths. Besides the occasional resident outside running errands and icebreaker ship crew, the streets were largely empty.

You were frankly jealous, your knitted wool coat thin with overuse and doing little to protect you from the cutting wind. However, the largest source of unease for you was the stares following you, only able to catch the subtlest hints of movement in windows whenever you would whip your head around to look.

It took you a minute to figure out why, but the reason was obvious once you thought about it.

Thenerius still led the way, a few feet in front of you despite the fact that he had no idea where you were headed. Even in a city filled with all kinds, purple skin and twisting horns stood out, and it was evident to anyone who caught a glimpse of his clothing what the nature of his occupation was.

Pirates weren’t rare in Alfore, but really only venturing here in the warmer months. There were hardly any normal sailors this time of year, much less the more criminal ones. And, despite their frequent visits to the port, pirates were by no means a welcome sight to the residents.

The city council had even imposed alcohol bans within city limits to try and discourage them from stopping here, the only reason The Deep was able to turn a profit as the port was a necessary stop for trade between the eastern and western hemispheres and too far away from any major kingdom for adequate protection, making for prime pickings for pillaging.

So of course Thenerius would be stared at, most average people resenting his presence. It made you antsy, paranoid someone would grow brave and decide to confront the lone pirate and his companion - you. But even as you feel nervous, Thenerius seems unfazed by the glares, sitting tall while on horseback.

“We’re turning here,” you scowl as your voice waivers, uncertain, as you try and get Thenerius’ attention.

You turned Horse down a narrow side road, now in front as Thenerius was forced to turn his own horse around.

“Where exactly are we going?” Thenerius asked after an innumerable amount of turns in the maze-like structure of the city, the sound of the water of the bay now audible with how close you were to the water.

“I am going to the doctor’s office to buy medicine for my mother,” you say, keeping your eyes trained on the street signs as you navigate.

“What, exactly, does your mother have?” Thenerius asks, his voice careful, though you’d been expecting the inevitable line of questioning.

“She fell ill with an unknown sickness a few years back,” you say, unable to maintain the usual bite in your tone you had for Thenerius when you thought back to those uncertain times, “Mr. Thistle wrote to me that it seemed I should prepare for a funeral, she had gotten that bad. They had to bring her to Alfore for treatment The doctors weren’t sure what it was, just that it wasn’t the consumption.

“By the time I arrived from the capital, she had recovered somewhat and insisted on going back home. The doctors couldn’t stop her, and they said it was just a matter of her body fighting it off, so she went back,” you finished, wincing once you realized just how much you revealed.

You hadn’t intended to say more than she was sick, but it had been like a dam had broke once you started speaking.

It felt… cathartic. To talk about what had happened. You couldn’t talk to your mother about it - it inevitably devolved into arguing about selling the cottage to move to Alfore. And though Mr. Thistle insisted that you could always come to him with any trouble, having a heart to heart with your prickly halfling godfather about how sick your mother and his best friend of decades was, was about as appealing as it seemed.

“What does the doctors say now?” Thenerius asked, seemingly unaffected by your rambled speech.

“I’ve been saving up for one to make a home visit, but it’s been almost a year since he last saw her.” You think back to how bewildered the doctor had been when he came to check on your mother after so long the last time and her condition hadn’t improved.

You find yourself glancing at Thenerius through your periphery. He was staring right at you. You quickly look away, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes.

“Actually, I’ve finally earned enough for the final payment, so I’ll also be giving him that today.” A small lie of omission. You would be able to make that final payment, as well as the next month’s supply of pills, but there wouldn’t be much leftover until you go back to work, and even then with only your base salary to last you the winter as the cold kept even more travelers from crossing its threshold, much less tipping ones.

Miraculously, Thenerius didn’t push the matter further. You’re grateful, finding that mulling over every answer to avoid oversharing exhausting. You find that word beginning to describe your state of being more and more lately.

The doctor’s office is a small storefront in a larger building, nestled in between a tavern and barber’s facing the choppy water of the bay, only a single cobblestone separating it from the drop-off.

After hopping off Horse and tying him to a post outside, you step inside. The doctor had no receptionist, so it was just a matter of being able to find him amongst the clutter of medical devices and books everywhere.

“It’s been a long time, child,” the doctor’s wizened face appeared from what you now realized was a desk underneath the mess, nearly giving you a heart attack, “Good news, I hope?”

“I have the final payment,” you smile, but it’s forced and awkward as you desperately wished you had good news to share. You give up on the smile and pull out your coin purse to hand over to him, “it’s all in there.”

“How is your mother?” He asks as he waves you into his office, clearing out a small section on his desk and flipping through papers until he somehow finds one particular one. He pulls out a pair of spectacles from his pocket, looking at the paper, shaking his head before putting it back and flips some more. He then begins the arduous process of counting your gold.

Dr. Inderpahl was old as dirt, to put it mildly. He was the doctor who delivered you and your mother before you. You’d believe it if someone told you he had some magical blood in him, keeping him alive much longer than a normal human. Though his body was ancient and senescent, and he hadn’t been able to perform a surgery in years as his hands had become gnarled with rheumatism, his mind was still sharp as a tack. So, though he counted every coin painfully slowly, he made no mistakes that would have further set back his progress.

“Yes, it’s all here,” he muses, crossing something off on the paper. At some point, Thenerius had found the two of you in the back room and both of you now stared expectantly at the doctor still scribbling away, “Okay. I’ll be seeing her in the spring.”

The relief you had been feeling burned away, your eyebrows furrowing as your mind refused to process what he said.

“What? No, Dr. Inderpahl, she needs a checkup as soon as possible. The payments- you said it was enough to close your practice for the day!”

“I’m sorry, child, but I’m afraid I’m unable to travel in the cold. I’m much older than I used to be, you know,” he said, struggling to rise from his seat in one go as though to prove his point, “and your mother’s condition remained largely the same the last time I went, correct? I’m afraid a house visit will have to wait.”

Your eyes sting, but you quickly grit your teeth and stand, nodding. With a trembling lip and small voice, you give a small “ok, thank you” and turn to leave.

Thenerius was leaning against the doorframe, his lip curled in disgust as he watched the doctor. He pushed off the wall, taking a step towards the oblivious old man futilely straightening a stack of papers. Sensing the danger in the look in his eye, his expression twisting into that familiar anger you’d only ever seen the one time before, you jump into action.

“I also need the medicine for the next month,” you say, stepping in front of Thenerius and stretching both hands back to keep him from moving forward. You do not want Dr. Inderpahl to be scared off before he can get you your mother’s medication - or worse, become unwilling to go out to your cottage to check on her, even if months later. Thenerius fortunately seems to get the hint, tense behind you but stilling.

“Of course,” Inderpahl muttered, finally noticing the pirate for the first time and eyeing him disapprovingly.

You pray he doesn’t ask about him, your mind already trying to think up an excuse as to why a pirate would be with you that wouldn’t come across as an intimidation tactic. You could say he was a stranger, but Thenerius may argue that assessment and that would look suspicious. Friend was too vague, partner may be taken as romantic which… with Thenerius right there, you refused to say.

Your whirring mind slows as Inderpahl finally looks away without a word, walking around the tiefling with no fear and back into the storefront, a large row of bookcases pushed against the far wall repurposed to hold various ingredients for medications.

Thenerius still doesn’t move, and you realize you’re gripping his sides tightly. You immediately drop your hands back to your side and step forward to put distance between you.

“Please, don’t do anything,” you hiss, about to follow after the doctor before Thenerius grabs your arm just above your elbow.

“He’s scamming you,” Thenerius seethed, “How much gold have you paid him so far? I can’t believe you’re going along-”

You break his hold on you, immediately rounding on the tiefling. You struggle to keep your voice low, but the outrage is evident, “He has helped my family for decades. He is the only doctor we can afford and the only one willing to even go all the way out to see her. You absolutely cannot ruin this by scaring him off or- or worse!”

When Inderpahl returned with an envelope of pills, you were afraid Thenerius would ignore your plea, but he fortunately kept his mouth shut. His expression, however, was a different story, glaring daggers at Inderpahl.

You thanked the doctor as you took the pills, elbowing Thenerius’ side to get him to move to the door.

He allows himself to be ushered by you out the door, though he lets the tips of his horns scrape the top of the doorframe (or you may not have given him enough time to duck completely). Either way, you make it outside with no bridges burned and everything you needed to do done.

“I suppose the apple does not fall far from the tree. If you’re anything like your parents, I’ll be seeing you two soon,” Inderpahl bids you farewell from the entrance.

You freeze, the meaning of the doctor’s words sinking in. It wasn’t malicious, and as you turned around the old man was smiling at you from the doorway.

Nodding dumbly - unsure of what else to say and hoping Thenerius didn’t ask questions - you shove Thenerius towards your waiting horses.

“What did he mean, like your parents?”

You suppose a nice, silent ride it was too much to ask of Thenerius. And, if it meant he could learn something so personal about you as your lineage, you held no doubt that he would jump at the chance. But, it had miraculously taken him until you reached the inner limits of Alfore to ask his question - a whole ten minutes, during which you lost track of his many attempts to speak up beforehand.

Not once had you ever affirmed aloud who the man was, first because everyone in your life already knew - more than you, in fact - and then because no one in your life knew. Once you went to the capital, everyone you met came from wealthy families, their fathers nobles and doctors and the like.

You weren’t necessarily jealous of that - you didn’t miss a man you never met. As far as you were concerned, you had no father. You were, however, upset at what his abandonment did to your mother. How she constantly worked, spreading herself so thin to provide for the two of you, to try and give you a better life while he was off fucking around at sea. Most of all, how she still loved him despite all that, refused to curse him for the scoundrel he was for leaving her.

Realizing Thenerius was still waiting on your response, you cleared your throat.

“My mother also used to work at The Deep and…” you trail off, the words feeling foreign and heavy sitting on your tongue, “My father was a pirate.”

“Was?” Thenerius asks, “What does he do now?”

You shrug, the edges of your mouth twisting downward, “Wouldn’t know. Never knew him.”

Thenerius is silent for a long time, seemingly sensing your souring mood but clearly wanting to say something.

“Your friend, at the tavern. She truly is worried about you,” Thenerius thankfully changes the subject, though not to one you feel like talking about any more than the topic of your parentage.

You sneak a peak over your shoulder at him, confused at the sudden change of subject. He’s staring at a spot on the back of his horse’s head, seemingly mulling over what he wanted to say.

“She says- you never accept anyone’s help, would rather say everything is fine and do things on your own. She asked me to check on you, even gave me your pay to give to you. She said they were all worried you’d ‘off yourself,’ I think it was. Not that day, just in general you… offing yourself.”

Putting aside the tiefling’s apparent penchant for exact quotes, as well as any mention of doing yourself in, you instead focus on the important bit of information shared in that entire rant.

“That was my gold?” You ask, pulling Horse’s reins to slow him down until you were riding next to Thenerius.

“Oh, yes, here,” he said, feeling up his coat, pulling out the small pouch and handing it over to you.

You glance down at it briefly, noting the small embroidered frog leaping off of a lily pad before stuffing it into your bodice, your brassiere holding it in place. You ignore Thenerius’ lingering stare.

“My offer still stands,” Thenerius finally spoke again and you wished he hadn’t.

“What offer?” You feign disinterest, hoping he’ll drop the subject but knowing better.

“Let me help around your farm. I’ll stay at The Deep but… just let me help you.”

You blink, your rapid-fire retort to a different response dying in your throat. You hadn’t been expecting that. You thought for sure he’d bring up the proposal again, using your obviously dire financial situation as incentive to marry him at least for convenience. You’re not sure what to say and the silence is only extending, threatening to seem as though you can’t turn down his offer.

“I can’t afford to pay you for that,” you finally manage before quickly adding, “and I won’t let you work for free. I’m not going to take advantage like that.”

You leave your final statement vague, but the point is clear. You don’t want to take advantage of his feelings for you, obviously much deeper than the initial infatuation you believed it to be. No matter how badly you may need the extra set of hands around the homestead, you simply could not bring yourself to agree to such a one-sided agreement, unable to give Thenerius what he truly wants. You almost wish it was the fleeting nightly obsession of drunken pirate, vanishing with the onset of the inevitable hangover and gone with the morning dew, dried out by the light of day.

Fortunately, Thenerius seems to recognize the finality of your decision and makes no further argument, following you wordlessly.

Rather than head straight back out of Alfore, you make a detour towards the market in the heart of the city, a block lined with stalls and shops in the old town square.

As you approach the center of Alfore, the city also grows more lively as people run their daily errands. Once the streets become crowded with stalls and people walking between them, you dismount from Horse and tie him to a post, trusting his surly attitude and the crowd to keep any would-be horse thieves at bay. Once you were certain he was secure, you grabbed the empty satchel hanging from the saddle and throw it over your shoulder.

“I’m going to go pick up an order,” you turn to Thenerius, holding up a hand to stop him from following you, “Alone. No pirates allowed.”

“But-” Thenerius began to protest, but you shook your head firmly.

“Her business, her rules. And you don’t exactly have the best disguise,” you gesture to the tiefling’s clothing, the most obvious pirate garb even a child would recognize and was already earning both of you a few stares, “Go… look around or something. Keep an eye on the horses. I’ll be done soon.”

With that, you leave Thenerius behind and head to the blacksmith’s.

Unfortunately, when you reach the street of your destination, there’s several crowds converging around it. Nearby stalls selling firewood and thick fabrics and pelts for winter clothing were of course at their busiest, and flanking the one place you needed to go.

With great difficulty and several sour looks directed your way when you squeezed in between people in lines, you finally reach the entrance of the small stone structure. As though to further mock your misfortune, a small piece of paper stuck in between two pieces of the wood making up the front door.

Of course the blacksmith would be away making a delivery when you arrive, you think with a brief flash of bitter annoyance, sitting on the step as you wait for her return.

By the time she does, the crowd on the street has largely dispersed, the stalls nearly completely sold out of their wares, and you were on the verge of freezing to death.

“You finally came by to pick up your order,” Yagiri said, sweeping you aside to unlock the forge door.

Yagiri was a half-gnome. Well-suited for the heat of the forge though perhaps not for the nippy winter air, evidenced by the sheer quantity of layers she’d wrapped herself in, looking more like a textile merchant’s inventory come alive.

“Yes, I’m sorry I’m so late,” you answer sheepishly, following her into the forge.

“I’d tell you I was going to sell everything off to the next customer who wanted them, but truthfully no one’s building anything this time of year,” she called out, pulling small boxes of iron bits onto her workstation, “Is there a particular reason you finally decided to come by?”

“Finally have time to use everything,” You reply, waiting awkwardly as she counted forty small nails, various hinges and pieces of wire mesh. Not entirely a lie. You have a week before your next shift, but you had plenty of opportunities to come down and at least pick up the order.

You apologize again as Yagiri hands your items to you, placing everything in your satchel and take care while rolling up the meshes.

Yagiri walks you to the door, both of you freezing as you step around her to see Thenerius standing across the street with both horses, dressed in more simple clothes and a wolfskin coat.

“He with you?” Yagiri grunts suspiciously and you wish you could deny it before Thenerius grins and waves at you, calling out your name.

“Yes, thanks again,” you murmur, quickly exiting the blacksmith’s and tugging Thenerius away from Yagiri’s watchful eye.

“I bought regular clothes,” Thenerius said proudly, showing off his new outfit to you.

You were definitely wrong. It wasn’t so much the clothing that made the pirate, but his overall demeanor; too carefree and wild to be anything else.

“I also got you one, too,” Thenerius held up another pelt coat, this one appearing to be from a bear based on the sheer size of it.

You balk, tempted to throw it on over your own but not wanting to encourage Thenerius’ affections, and there was no way you could pay him for it. Pelts were worth two months of your wages at The Deep. You had no idea how much a finished coat would be.

“I can’t pay you back-”

Thenerius grabs your arm before you can continue walking, “I have to insist. You’re going to get sick if you don’t wear something thicker, and then how will you work?”

You can’t argue with his logic, but can’t help but stiffen as he throws the coat over your shoulders and begins to tie it off down the front. As soon as he finishes, you step away and slither your arms through the sleeves.

“Better?” Thenerius chuckles, you practically swimming in the coat, “give me your bag, keep your hands in the pocket.”

You’re no longer shivering, so used to it at this point that you no longer noticed you it was so bad until you were finally able to stop and your muscles slightly sore where they’d been overworked.

You nod, silently handing over the satchel still clutched in your hand so you can stick your hands in the felt-lined pockets of the coat. With that, you lead the way through the labyrinthine streets to the section of vendors selling live creatures. You take your time looking at each vendor’s wares, smiling at the cute animals until you come across a stall with what you’re looking for.

You smile at the old woman manning the stall and her granddaughter sitting a short ways behind her, both snuggled comfortably in rabbit pelts, before turning your attention to the rabbits curled together in their cages.

“How much for the spotted buck and three solid does?” You ask, pointing out the each rabbit you’re referring to in their respective enclosures.

The old woman grins toothlessly back, holding up three fingers, “three silver pieces.”

You hesitate, not sure you’d have enough to take all four home today. You grab your coin purse from a pocket of your satchel and dig around for any silver, finding two and starting to count up the equivalent bronze when the old woman suddenly clucks a “thank you, sir.”

You look up in surprise to see Thenerius retracting his hand, the silver pieces disappearing into a pocket of her coat before you can even protest. You don’t know where where Thenerius was keeping his coins, much less how much he had. She picks up an empty cage and begins gathering your picks, each easily curling up into the crook of her arm when she grabs them.

“The gray one’s already pregnant. Two weeks left,” she whispers, winking at you as she hands the full cage over, continuing loud enough for Thenerius to hear, “Good luck for you and your husband.”

Your smile strains to remain plastered on your face, merely nodding in thanks so as to not cause a scene. You already feel the heat rising in your face, refusing to meet Thenerius’ gaze as you walk away from the market despite how deeply you could feel it boring into you.

The ride out of Alfore was mostly silent, you lost in thought and playing absentmindedly with one of the ties of your coat.

You think back to what Yagiri asked you. Why you were picking up your order now when it had been ready for weeks now. You had already made your decision, one you had spent the entire afternoon thinking about but was now unsure how to bring the topic up again.

“What did you buy from the blacksmith?” The question sounds nonchalant, but when you look over, Thenerius looks concerned as he looks at the satchel. You suppose Thenerius wouldn’t be very familiar with a blacksmith’s more mundane talents in metallurgy.

“Some things to build a hutch,” you reply, looking away.

“You’re building a hutch?” Thenerius asks incredulously.

“No, you are.” Is your brilliant retort, and you hope your burning face isn’t noticeable from where Thenerius is.

“I am?” It isn’t teasing, or negative, but actually sounds… hopeful. It’s almost enough to make you backpedal, tell Thenerius nevermind or that you somehow misspoke.

“I still can’t afford to pay you,” you say instead, swallowing a lump in your throat you think is your pride, “But you will be compensated with room and board.”

“Yes,” Thenerius agreed immediately, his mood obviously perking up, “but I’m going to pay rent.”

You are on the verge of arguing but soon think the better of it, “Twenty gold a month.”

Thenerius scoffs, “Why so low?”

“It’s five gold less than the rate at The Deep,” you shoot back, “or were you lying when you said you couldn’t afford a room there?”

“Yes, I did,” Thenerius admits immediately, surprising you with his shameless.

You feel the amusement begin to bubble up and before you can stop it, what you thought would be a small snort comes out an uncontrollable peal of laughter.

You bend forward, body shaking with the force of it, threatening to fall right off your horse’s back had you not had your feet securely in the stirrups.

Once you’re finally able to compose yourself with only the aftershocks of your giggling managing to escape, you realize Thenerius is beaming over at you.

“You’re still paying twenty,” you fail to put in the sternness you wanted in the words, to out of breath to sound firm.

Either way, Thenerius would no doubt change his tune about paying the extra gold after a few days of the work you planned to put him through. There was plenty of work you’d been holding off on doing yourself around the homestead, having planned on waiting until the weather warmed.

“Alright,” Thenerius agreed dreamily, or so you determine, a small kernel of gratification germinating within you at the thought of your ability to turn a sea-hardened pirate into a lovestruck fool.

Residual mirth, you tell yourself, forcing yourself to not read so deeply into things. Perhaps it was unwise - stupid, even - to invite the tiefling whose ultimate goal was your heart into your home for an indefinite stretch of time, but as you continued riding down the path, the sun finally making its presence known and still buzzing with your good mood, you can’t help but drown out your objections.

Besides, after a week you’d be occupied at the tavern and your daily interactions would undoubtedly be limited to the mornings when you returned from work.

part 4

[ashistrashhh]

here are some fic recs!! including sakuatsu, bokuaka, kuroken and matsuhana bc i couldnt help myself

if you want, ask me about a certain ship and ill give you some recs!

-sakuatsu-

Marble and Sandstone by red_camellia

rating: G words: 12,937 chapters: 2/2 

author summary: Miya Atsumu only cares about volleyball and nothing else. That is, until he develops a strange obsession with the marble statue of a young man that seems vaguely familiar in his university's arts department. One day that statue comes alive as the very real Sakusa Kiyoomi, and they are left with the mystery of why Sakusa Kiyoomi was turned into a statue and only came back to life when Atsumu touched him. Their new-found connection and the strange mystery turns Atsumu's life upside down, not least because of his growing feelings for Sakusa.

my notes: this was a rlly cute fic!!! 11/10 would read again!!

let it go (paint my body gold) by lunarism

rating: T words: 3,272 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It becomes a routine for them. Sometimes they go grocery shopping and make dinner together, other times they end up talking until Sakusa feels like his own shower and bed is calling him. Every single time Sakusa gets home, shrugs his coat off, balls it up, and proceeds to scream profusely into the fabric for a few minutes.

my notes: pining!!! sakusa!!! also casual painter!atsumu!!! and they paint together!!!

craft a miracle with these hands, lips, (silence) by chrysanthe (sonderesque)

rating: T words: 4,252 chapters: 1/1

author summary: ‘Someone is here to ruin your night,’ his door tells him. ‘You should let them in.’ “I’M HOMELESS OMI-OMI. HOMELESS,” yells the one here to ruin his night. “LET ME IN.”

(What does Kiyoomi sell his sanctuary for?)

my notes: hnnn rlly fuckin cute,, and domestic,,,,

Clipped To You by littleboat

rating: T words: 8,174 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It starts with Hinata Natsu, of all people.

Well, if Atsumu’s being honest with himself, it started way before that, but he’s not, so that’s besides the point. And thankfully, he’s just petty enough to blame all of his problems on a thirteen year old girl.

or Sakusa starts wearing hair clips and Atsumu is more than a little obsessed

my notes: minor kagehina, bokuaka // god these fics rlly make me simp for fictional characters even more than i should. but!! sakusa!!! in hairclips!!! and a pining atsumu!!!

learn how to lay me down in something other than danger, other than fury by rosevtea 

words: 34,211 chapters: 1/1

author summary: All of the ways fellow college TA Miya Atsumu reinvents Kiyoomi's definition of normal.

my notes: god i loved this. it’s a fake dating au and like,, even though they’re “dating” sakusa keeps letting his guard down little by little around atsumu and it surprises everyone. komori and akaashi just know  that they’re were genuinely pining for eachother

among probabilities and a thousand fates by aalphard

rating: T words: 15,675 chapters: 1/1

author summary: prompt fill for “in a world where the red string of fate exists, person a’s finger always twitches when person b, who can see the string, tugs on their string” | or sakusa thought he had a tic and atsumu liked to see his confused expression when it started to happen exclusively when he was around.

my notes: i! loved! it!! so basically atsumu and osamu have the rare gift of seeing the red string of fate, so they know its real but sakusa, like most other people dont believe it exists. so atsumu gives sakusa a (kinda) hard time. rlly cute!! i love soulmate aus!

-bokuaka- 

love in the time of wifi by dalyeau

rating: G words: 4,177 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Akaashi is coming to terms with the fact that he might be romantically interested in his volleyball captain. Hence, doing what any sixteen year old with a problem should do. He asks about it online.

my notes: really cute fic about akaashi asking what he should do about his crush on a site similar to reddit. its kinda a “i didnt know it was you” kind of fic and it made me happy

steam by orphan_account

rating: E words: 8,474 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

 bokuto: why is he so hot bokuto: why am i so gay kuroo: LMAO you mean your vice captain right bokuto: yeah

The coach blew the whistle for practice to begin, and Bokuto drummed his fingers against the bleachers, awaiting Kuroo’s reply. He was about to walk away, when his phone buzzed in his hand.kuroo: i got this bro bokuto: what bokuto: wtf does that mean

Bokuto started to panic.

my notes: explicit!!! but really wholesome. kuroo is honestly the best wingman. i also think this is my favourite bokuaka smutfic?? 

just to miss the sun by rosevtea

rating: T words: 15,126 chapters:1/1

author summary: Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

my notes: akaashi is a booktuber and bokuto crashes one of his streams. fans begin to speculate. rlly fluffy and can u tell i like bokuaka

brain fish by iceblinks

rating: T words: 12,026 chapters: 6/6

author summary: Akaashi wakes up to a string of texts from an unknown number. 

my notes: i love text fics and i love wrong number aus so u can tell how much i loved this. really fluffy and i come back to it time to time

-kuroken-

us three by honey_s

rating: T words: 5,137 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo’s gaze flits over to the utensil. His eyes bulge out of his skull. “Wh—is that a meat hammer? Put it back!” Akaashi’s head recoils back in confusion. “I don’t understand the problem here.” “Why on Earth have you got a fucking meat hammer? We aren’t going to kill somebody!” “Well,” Akaashi begins, clearly taken aback, “I apologise for assuming. I had heard Kenma-san had been hurt in school and after getting a message from both of you to meet late at night, I merely filled in the blanks and assumed we were going to beat someone up, for lack of a better term.” “Not literally! I meant metaphorically, or figuratively, or something!” “Idiomically?” “That isn’t a word, Bokuto-san.” “Jesus Christ,” Kuroo groans, dropping his head into his hands. “We're going to jail."

my notes: bokuaka and kuroo are ready to beat someone up for kenma!! and we stan!! 

Cherry Pits and Cat Tattoos by strawberryriver

rating: G words: 6,141 chapters: 1/1

author summary: 

Kuroo has been in communication with his soulmate ever since they were kids. They've known each other for so long that he never really worried about when or how he would meet them. At least, not until he meets the roommate of Bokuto's soulmate.Soulmate AU in which things written on your skin show up on your soulmate. Companion piece/same AU as Serendipty

--------------------

Kuroo Tetsurou liked to write on his arms. Despite his mother's half-serious warnings about “ink poisoning” or staining his skin, he insisted on marking his arms and legs wherever he could. Not like his best-friend-since-always Bokuto Koutaro, who had to write on his arms or he’d forget to breathe, but artfully. He’d draw designs, animals, the occasional chemical compound. The whole idea behind soulmates fascinated him: how one person could mark their arm and someone potentially thousands of miles away, would have that same mark appear. The amount of articles, studies, and books he’d read about the topic, even at a young age, could put an undergrad researcher to shame.

my notes: again with the soulmate au bc i cannot help myself. but really cute!!! probably gonna read this again later!

Boom, Toasted by protostar (hearthope)

rated: T words: 6,782 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

 FROM: yuuji any bets on who hes texting??

FROM: eita He's smiling at his phone. Kuroo, probably

FROM: kentarou Kuroo

TO: fake family Have any of you ever once considered not prying

FROM: eita You deserve it

FROM: yuuji how can we not when ur in love!!

Kenma gets a text from an unknown number. He'd be lying if he said the guy behind it wasn't kind of endearing.

my notes: again, i love wrong number texts. it focuses more on kenma’s friendship, but kenma’s pov with texting kuroo is more than him realizing feelings and stuff. really cute, ive read it multiple times. 

Japan's most subscribed by NeverNothing

rating: T words: 3,631 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo Tetsurou @blacktetsurou changed his bio : volleyball player, co-owner of Bouncing Ball Corp. and so much more ;)

my notes: i! love! social media! fics!!! really cute and basically people wondering who the mysterious kuroo is to applepi. 

MATSUHANA!!! the underrated gem

texting (with a capital S) by parenthetic

rating: M words: 2,119 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Hanamaki breaks his No Texting In Class rule, and it's all downhill from there.

my notes: honestly more funny than it suggests, but its matsuhana, they’re meme lords.

rated m for by orphan_account

rated: T words: 10,692 chapters: 1/1

author summary: He should have known that there was a Specific Reason™ why it was so absolutely vital that he and Matsukawa specifically meet for a reading of the script. He should have known that there had to be some evil catch beyond sitting in a tiny, cramped studio with his newly sworn enemy.

Hanamaki stares at the title of the script he’d so gracefully neglected the night before.

FORBIDDEN PARADISE

“Excuse me,” Hanamaki starts, raising a pen in the air while staring blankly at the packet in his free hand. “Just to clarify, you want me to record a boy's love CD with Matsukawa?”

my notes: a very good voice actor au. there is some misunderstanding on hanamaki’s part bc he didnt finish listening to matsukawa, and this is really cute and i love matsuhana. 

In A Quiet Night, All Sounds Carry by levyovochka

rating: E words: 4,794 chapters: 1/1

authors summary: “Ah, ah, Too—!”

Hanamaki hates his university dorm.

“—ru, let me cum, please!”

Hold up. That’s a fucking understatement. Let him rephrase it: Hanamaki loathes his university dorm with passion. Detest the damned abomination, abhors it—

“—ru! Coming, coming—”

It has only been a month and Hanamaki already wants to die.

my notes: as u can guess minor iwaoi // rlly well written and bottom hanamaki rights and maybe my favourite matsuhana smutfic??? and hooh boy i simp for matsukawa

call me maybe by totooru

rating: T words: 33,689 chapters: 14/14

author summary: Hanamaki texts the wrong number when trying to extort tips out of Oikawa in order to defeat Iwaizumi in arm wrestling, and then continues to text the witty stranger who had answered.

my notes: minor iwaoi, daisuga, bokuaka // god i think this is my favourite matsuhana fic overall, maybe in general, but my god is it great. this is probably a common rec, but its understandable as to why it is. basically au where makki texts matsun (who goes to karasuno) instead of oikawa for tips to beat iwaizumi at an arm wrestling match. but they keep messaging. and holy shit i love their conversations. please read this, it is 256/10

there we go!! i might go a part two with more ships (kagehina, tsukkiyama and iwaoi) but this took up way to much time lol. i have an essay due in a couple hours. but hope u like these fics as much as i do!!

[jjba-hell]

Revoked

Still late for day 2 but I am enjoying the hell out of these prompts. (Today’s prompt was sci-fi)

Trigger warnings for the death of the ice cream gays but lemme know if I missed anything else.

Summary: a weird mismatched team of busted up aliens and half-blood humans just dealing with some shit.

For the lovely: @lasquadraweek2021

“You should really just transfer to a new body Pros. Humans aren’t supposed to live this long, babe.”

You grumble probably more to yourself than to the man whose forearm you were tinkering in. Well... maybe tinkering wasn’t the word either. He needed another repair and honestly you can’t help but feel like Risotto only offered you the air-mattress in the ship because so many of these psychos have bio-tech they can’t afford to upkeep.

“Sure, I can’t afford a rewire but I can surely afford getting my brain transplanted in a new body.”

“Human bodies are so easy to grow though.” You peer up at him over your magnify glasses with a wriggle of eyebrows. “Fully grown in a quarter rotation? Come on I still have to wait another half rotation to buy a swimsuit let alone grow a body.”

Prosciutto flexed the hand you were working on to spite you but all you did was strap the wrist down and switch off the impulse circuit before getting up and walking toward the exit of the ship where the others were sprawled out in the soft baby blue grass of the planet you were hiding out at.

Melone’s gaze shot from laptop up as you kicked your untied boots from your feet and slid into the grass, barely hearing him as he asked “Any luck with Pros’s arm?”

“I can’t keep mending the same two wires that keep popping off. Its best we find a place that can handle Babyface’s software and get a new one.”

“Still not budging for just replacing the whole thing?” Formaggio asked from somewhere across the clearing.

Like he was one to talk- Akils like him grew back heads and limbs, there wasn’t exactly a need to know anything about biotech.

“Nope. Are all humans this stubborn?”

“I think its the half Megnu in him.” Illuso was the one to chirp in this time.

“That’s still not confirmed.” You sat back on your feet to try and spot your teammates.

“Well he won’t let me analyze.” Melone sighed- continuing to worry away at the clear glass screen that held all his designs.

Melone truly was a bit of a madman to you- he designed the entirety of his body on that simple glass tablet and yet couldn’t finish his face in time before the feds were on him for unethical medical practice- ironic considering he was only putting himself through the strain of fitting his brain into a piece of machinery. What his official titles were in his old field were beyond you.

“Pesci’s not all Scud and he’s not half as stubborn.” You commented and with a soft hum the team fell back into silence.

“Where’s Ris?”

“He’s in bed- that last jump took a toll on him.” Illuso finally rose up from the grass himself heading a bit further away from the clearing, probably wandering after Ghiacchio who was asked to take a lap after he froze off Formaggio’s finger.

You clambered up a few steps to find your captain with the old-fashioned two-way radio in his hand as he lay passed out on couch of the shared living room.

Risotto would rather be caught dead than caught like this so, with intent, you stepped up to take the radio out of his hand. He seemed to gently wake at your fingers prying the piece or equipment from his hand.

“Shit.” He grumbled. “How long-?”

“Ghiacchio’s not even back from his lap- don’t worry. Just head off before they catch you.”

And with a slight groan he rolled up and disappeared down the hallways to his bunk which sounded with an ungraceful “clunk” as he fell into the bed.

Your name got hollered with the slightest tone of desperation from Prosciutto and with that you were back doing your part in the team behind the scene.

“You’re a purebred?” Prosciutto had eventually asked after a few minutes of boredom at watching you weld wires back to the motherboard.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “What am I? A dog?”

He seemed to swallow his words.

“Where do you think I’m from?” You tried to smooth it over.

“Caestea- at least your appearance would have you look like that.”

Another laugh. “I’m from Earth, Pros.”

His eyes widened. “Impossible.”

“Oh yeah. My parents weren’t exactly refugees but they are most certainly not human. Fuck knows what my genetic makeup looks like but thankfully I certainly age like a Caestean. You are all human, huh?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Not that there are many of us left.”

In a sense you felt bad for him. You’d seen photos of Earth long before it started to mimic its brother planet Mars but you rarely thought of how wickedly the planet must have lost its life before intergalactic intervention. Humans were strangely scared and selfish creatures but no one deserved to die because there was no clean water to drink.

You shook off the macabre though before closing up Pros’s arm and putting away the tools. “That should do for now but we really do need to think of a replacement in the near future.”

“Thanks.”

It was a half-assed thank you but it surely caught your attention. Pros was a little too prideful to give just anyone a thanks but nonetheless you returned the sentiment. “No problem.”

Outside the boys were fighting again- or rather Ghiacchio was arguing as Formaggio was pushing his buttons while Pesci grilled a rather obscenely colorful fish over the fire-in-tin.

“Oh just the person we needed to see.”

Getting clasped with two arms over the neck was bad enough but from Sorbet and Gelato, now that was trouble waiting to start.

“Oh gods, what do I have to offer this time.”

“Don’t be so serious!” Sorbet cooed darkly.

“We were just hoping you could help us out with the next target.” His boyfriend added.

If you could just roll your eyes back far enough.

“Wandering off from our captain’s orders doesn’t sound like something I’d want to get myself involved in.”

“Not even for a bionic manufacturer?”

“Or a healing bay, for the ship? Surely you could install those things no problem.”

Honestly it was hard not to fall for the stereotype that all Makzi’s do is play dirty and haggle like merchants but here you were, stuck between them and being tempted into breaking formation with them.

“And what would I have to lose?”

“Nothing much-“

“Maybe some face with Risotto.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “You want me to convince him?”

“Exactly- he might actually consider something if it came out of your pretty mouth.”

“Or rather, if he could come in it.”

You took one step back and bowed out of the hold between the two of them. “Fucking sleezes. Your shit’s gonna get you killed, mark my words.”

“So its a no?”

“Its a fuck no, Sorbet. Vile comments aside, that shit is expensive, even dent-jobs sell for millions... that kind of money is too big a job for us to handle right now and stealing one even more. Get your heads out of your asses before you come up to me with more dumb shit, next time.”

And with that you slipped back beside Illuso as Pesci was grilling up the third fish for the night. Looking back at what you had said was not untrue. That night you were restless in your bunker above Formaggio- Illuso peering behind the sliding divider across the little hallway that ran between the bed bunks.

“Something on your conscience?”

“No.”

“You sure?” You nearly leapt out of skin as Formaggio’s forehead popped up just below your chin outside your divider. “You’ve turned and kicked like 10 times, babe.”

“Please don’t babe me.” You frown at him but you answered the gnawing feeling by asking. “Where are Sorbet and Gelato?”

“Probably in their bed.” Illuso answered as if there wasn’t a more logical answer.

“Wanna put money on it?” Your eyebrow raised.

“And catch them in the act? Daaamn you’re dirtier than I thought.”

“Come on then, 10 drinks at the next stop they’re not in their bunk.”

“Shit, I can’t miss on that opportunity.” Formaggio’s divider slid open all the way to allow him to plop with bare feet to the double bunks at the end of the hallway.” You and Illuso watched in trepidation as he knelt down and knocked. There was no answer save for Risotto’s stern frown behind the top divider making an appearance. “What do you want?”

“Are Sorbet and Gelato in there?” You piped up first.

The angry frown turned into concern as he slid out of his bunk to replace where Formaggio was. He slid the door open to reveal one big empty bed.

What you’d have given to be wrong. But instead the panic bit you all and soon you were messily slipping on boots and running around the ship to find the missing lovers.

Pesci checked the engine compartments he might have accidentally left open, Pros checked the storage while Risotto was seeing if he could track them on the radar. It was only when you were hoisted onto the roof by Formaggio that the dread set into your bones.

“Tell Ris to switch on the overhead console lights.”

You called back down below you. Part of you wished you didn’t... since all it did was put them on display.

It was a vile thing that made Risotto’s eyes grow darker than they already were and once dawn broke, you and Melone quietly put the bodies into the best makeshift body bags you could manage. The lake a few paces away was where you last saw those body bags.

After you left that pit stop you sat in silence in the communal meeting area, your legs flung over one of the armrests in your seat- staring blankly at the coffee table you’d nipped from a market not too long ago.

“So... what’s the plan?”

You asked at anyone who would listen.

“Do we go on as usual? Find their families?”

“Revenge?”

Your head turned to Prosciutto as he was enjoying one last drag of his cigarette.

“You’re brave.” You huffed a bit of laughter at the thought. The big boss and his cronies- the only real reason none of you strayed from Risotto’s orders was way up on a station so far up the intergalactic alliance ladder that you’d have a better shot at killing the king of Gnomia B908 and getting away with it.

“Why not?” Illuso was the one to back it. “Surely we could track the sick fucks that did it.”

“You’re thinking too simply.” Risotto grumbled over his fist. “They didn’t get themselves killed by accident. This was deliberate- a display not to challenge the higher ups.”

“Any idea what they were planning?” You sat up, propping your elbows onto your knees.

Risotto kindly pulled up their hidden plans- your name encircled in red a few times. They seemed to have had their eye on a biotech printer and medbay that was once used by the Boss himself.

“What’s the relevance of an old medbay?” Pros posed the question to you- Melone was up front with Formaggio.

“Medbays need to keep track of any irregularities in DNA to avoid any incompatibility issues. Its one of the few things that can’t be wiped because its burned into the drive. They were trying to expose the Boss’s identity.”

“And they were planning on risking us all in the process?”

You pointed at a little arrow shooting off your name once more. “They figured I could remove and replace the hard drive before anyone noticed.”

Your throat felt dry as you realized what that meant. Whoever this person was... if they could follow something as irrelevant as a used medbay to keep their tracks clean... chances are you were all, at best, being watched.

The thought must have been shared as Risotto didn’t breathe a word as he moved to the front of the ship and changed course to an unaffiliated vector you know damn well you’d probably be searched and cleansed for.

To no one’s surprise the pristine white towers blinded and no sooner than two seconds of coming into orbit of one of the bigger planets you were requested to land.

You stood beside you captain as the ship docked and you waited with your hands behind your head to greet the haz-mat team. “You must be pretty serious about this if you’re willing to get sit in their prison.”

He gazed down at you and with a deadpan tone simply said: “You’ve escaped, I’m certain you could do it again.”

[midnight1990]

Good Raven Chapter 1. Cofio — Remembering

July, 1995

As I unpack my trunk in the dusty, dingy room above the shop where my uncle, two brothers and two sisters live, I feel the slight dread of not knowing where my future will lead.  I’m of age now and done with school, so finding work and avoiding trouble should be my first worries, but it ain’t just me I have to worry about. I can’t let the babanod grow up here for much longer — it’s eaten them and me for three years already.

We live in Knockturn Alley, the street off of lovely Diagon Alley where all of the things your decent witches and wizards won’t meddle in are sold; bought; traded or just plain found. In my uncle’s shop is sold potion ingredients, and because this is Knockturn Alley, they’re not normal ingredients — poisons; live creatures; contraband that he (Uncle) said if I ever told someone about he’d hex me for 7 years straight. He also threatened to feed me on only cold gruel if I sold anything cheap, ‘cause once I was all moved in those three years ago he was leaving me at the counter to haggle and sell while he went off to the Cauldron for drinks, or Borgin’s to try and buy even more nasty supplies to bring back to his own business.

I should be honest when I talk about the things we sell — they’re rather compelling. It’s a bit exciting to know that the fungi you’re holding (with a handkerchief that’s been charmed to keep the nerves in your hand from suddenly burning and losing all function) are one: that bloody dangerous and two: can put you on the ministry’s list of “Most Dark and Dangerous in Illicit Magical Trade”. Some of the things that the Ministry comes up with!

As interesting as my uncle’s business can be, me and the kids need our own place to live. It’s just too, well, dark in this alley. Ninety nine percent of the people who come through this place are just trying to get their business done; do their shopping — however ill-intentioned it may be — and go home, but that one percent that’s not so good is too noticeable for any decent body to want to raise four little ones here. I’ve been followed by a hag who wanted my fingernails (taken from a living witch or wizard, they’re more useful); groped by warlocks both drunken and sober; sang at by more drunken warlocks (some ditty with lyrics like “I once had a lass with a nice round ass” and it got even nastier) and I’ve even seen duels that ended up in the Prophet! One time, a curse missed its intended target and hit an old wizard who was just trying to get home with the flesh-eating slug repellent he’d bought! The poor old grandpa! I hope he lived.

I go into the smaller room across the hall where the boys sleep and of course Llon’s trunk is sitting wide open on the bed he and Afon, who’s only three, share. I see his rumpled up belongings and I know he scrambled to find his wand as soon as he got up here; I hid it in his trunk as soon we boarded the train to come back for his first summer holiday (and the rest of my life) so he wouldn’t try any last minute jinxes. Sometimes I’m amazed at how easily he obeys me, then again his most vivid experience with a female relative other than me is of Mam throwing him outside at night — all night — so she could drink and have a shag with that big warlock she came home with. He was nine, I was 15 and we were all lucky that it was spring holiday so’s I was home.  I don’t know how they found out, but when the ministry officials who deal with family problems came a’visiting two days later, I was able to convince them to let the kids remain at Mam’s house so long as I was allowed to be there, courtesy of the school and a satisfied ministry witch. I had to write and beg Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore himself to let me skip a few weeks. I remember feeling quite touched when the first two came to visit, a ministry witch in tow. I don’t think Dumbledore even considers his students well-being outside of Hogwarts.

Professor Snape was my head of house — good ol’ Slytherins looking out for each other — and I distinctly recall the feeling I had when I greeted him and McGonagall at the door that he’d been waiting for something like this to occur. You get that feeling when he looks at you sometimes - that he knows things about you.

I had expected McGonagall to be much less kinder than she actually was — more grave and pitying. She was certainly that way with Mam, “Eira, what have you gotten yourself and your family into?!”

Snape mostly sat all stiff in the chair I’d offered, his spidery black eyes glancing everywhere they could, taking in my raggedy siblings, Mam’s wan expression and the Welsh words doodled haphazardly on our cottage’s stone walls. Words like cariad — love — which had a bright pink heart drawn beside it and calon which had an arrow pointing from it to the rosy heart.

Witch, Welsh and Slytherin. That’s me. Even my name is Welsh, though my dad is English (obviously, my surname is Burke after all): Branda — brân dda — raven good; Good Raven. I have a middle name that isn’t Welsh at all, though; Patreva. Something Latin like what so many of our kind in Britain have — names like Draco, Severus or my Tad’s name, “Nicander” which may actually be Greek. It’s fancy and magical sounding. I’m the only one of my parent’s brood with any name like that — something about a Naming Seer who suggested it for me, but they never went back for their other four kids’s names. The younger ones have a Welsh name and that’s it. I like Welsh names quite a lot, though. Some of the names wizarding parents give their children are too — well — ostentatious is a good word.

Anyway, McGonagall, Snape and the quiet little ministry witch with the clipboard came to a decision: I could stay at home with Mam and the kids while the school year continued as long as one: Mam wasn’t bringing her “gentlemen friends” home anymore and two: I would take remedial lessons in all core classes the following school year.

“Of course, you will receive some lessons by post this spring and over the summer, miss Burke.” McGonagall can be so caring, sometimes.

“Your head of house has stated that you are among the more reliable students at Hogwarts, miss Burke.”

The little ministry witch hadn’t spoken at all to me, only to Mam and to my professors, but now she was gazing at me with what I believe was meant to be a placating — if somewhat sharp — look.

“He says you are quite skilled in his potions class as well as in mentoring the younger students.”

The look on Professor Snape’s face suggested this was meant to be unspoken. I’ve never had problems with Snape; he’s certainly a terror to many (okay, most) students, but he’s only ever had clipped praises or short orders for me to teach the first years how to behave without their parents around to guide them and comfort them and all that. A lot of the prefects were shite at that kind of thing.

Life at Mam’s with the kids was alright for awhile — could’ve probably gone quite tolerably if she hadn’t gone off to the Leakey Cauldron and met some bloke who took her to his flat in wherever-the-hell-it-was. Whatever they did in those six days she was gone, it was bad enough that he went to Azkaban, but not interesting enough for the Daily Prophet to report on. Mam got off, but us kids had to go live with the only relative who was willing to take us — Tad’s second-or-something cousin whom he’d done business with before Mam kicked him out: Mr. Donius Burke, purveyor of dark and illicit potion ingredients since 1974.

Fuck.

***

“Oi, girl! Come down here now! I need you for something!”

Calm down old man, I haven’t finished folding my jumpers yet. I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s already got a task for me, even though I’ve only been off the train for two hours. Sunset’s nearly come, and I don’t want to be outside in Knockturn Alley after dark, which ought to spur me faster down the stairs to see what he wants. Making him wait can feel too good though - not that he’s not willing to stomp his way up here which, as I put my last woolen top away, I can hear him doing. Thump, creak; thump creak; the ancient wooden steps groaning loudly as always. Has he still not fallen through them?!

“Are you going deaf?!”

I turn my head to look at him there, his reedy frame silhouetted from the dim light of the hallway. He hasn’t changed in the ten months since I’ve last seen him, and he hasn’t since we arrived here three years ago; grey hair slicked back, his aging face freakishly smooth without a hint of stubble (does he shave, or did he magic the hairs off?).

Before I can say anything he’s stepped into the room to stand over me.

“Get down there, now!”

He points his finger so forcefully that it’s curving up towards the ceiling, and I have to keep myself from glancing up to see if it’ll confuse him. He follows me out of the bedroom and down to the back of the shop, where Llon and the other two kids are on the floor playing with Mouser, the cranky black cat we keep to eat any mice or cockroaches in the the building.

Gwenyn is nine and has long blonde hair like Mam, round hazel eyes and a pink mischievous face. Next to her is five year-old Ffionwyn, who’s brown hair will turn nearly black like Tad’s and mine someday. For now, her head’s as shiny as a chestnut, with a pale face and a shifty quietness about her - probably because she’s been growing up in this dark hole of a place.

“Here”. A small roll of parchment is pressed into my hand.

“Take this to Aunt Onyxia, she’s been expecting it all day.”

He nods his head towards the children - “You can bring back the other one, as well.”

Of course, he’s talking about Afon, the youngest of the family. Three, dark haired and quiet like Ffionwyn, he had to come here when he was just four months old! Unwilling to keep a baby where his customers could hear him crying, Uncle struck a deal with the ministry officials who’d arranged for his guardianship — he would have to remain the legal guardian of Afon, but would be allowed to shunt him off to another adult so long as they were nearby and had no criminal record — a relative preferred. Enter Aunt Onyxia, Uncle Donius’s first cousin.

Onyxia Burke runs a “gift” shop right at the end of Knockturn Alley where she sells candles, cheap jewelry and clothing items, all of which are enchanted for various purposes; making someone fall in love with you; manipulating another’s dreams; even changing their moods or emotions. I hope she’s been keeping Afon away from her shit.

As I step through the door of my uncle’s shop into the balmy night air, I glance up at the old wooden sign hanging above the door: “Apothecary” it reads, surrounded by engraved bats, spiders and toads. I force a heavy breath through my nose as memories come creeping up again, for we used to sell those things — well, Mam ‘n Tad did - before everything went to Hell.

Mam ‘n Tad were gatherers and procurers of potion ingredients. Magical plants and animals, of course, some of which you must have a special permit to collect, but also things that are not so magical — bats, rats and adders; green things that grow in your back garden like nettles and dandelions; even farm animals like chickens and goats, the latter of which produce bezoars —hard stones that form in their gut and which counteract poisons.

Things that could not be grown or raised near our home (a dragon in the barn might’ve been a bit troublesome) we would search for. This was the best part of my family’s livelihood. Tad would research where things could be found, and we would gather our equipment and head off to some chosen spot ready to work.

He taught me to do many things without magic, which I never knew was unusual for our kind —until I went to Hogwarts. Nobody else knew how to butcher a chicken or start a fire without a wand (except maybe a few muggleborns, but even most of them didn’t know how, either)! My classmates didn’t seem to know what to make of me until the incident with Hagrid’s giant chicken.

One of Hagrid’s roosters had grown to a rather impressive size, comparable to that of a Shetland pony (he had to have charmed it somehow). Well, one day it managed to escape the coop and terrorize the courtyard where all of us first years were learning broom maintenance. Madam Hooch was knocked over before she even saw it, and a boy called Derrick attempted to scare it by kicking it away, his robed arms flapping all around him whilst yelling at it to go away. Unfortunately, Drumsticks now thought Derrick was trying to start a real cock-fight — chest to chest, wings flapping and spurs kicking!

Before it finished its little war-dance with his head bobbing low, neck-feathers puffed out trembling, I’d managed to grab one of the brooms off the work table; as soon as Drumsticks began to step towards Derrick I ran towards that overgrown alarm-clock and jabbed it as hard as I could with that broomstick!

I won’t say it was a smart idea, but the frustration I’d felt over those first weeks at school — people giggling behind their hands when I spoke in my Welsh accent; discovering that students in other houses whom I’d wanted to befriend would scoff at the idea of hanging around with a Slytherin — seemed to take hold of me. It felt good when the broom’s handle hit Drumsticks’ chest, shocking him backwards and confusing him so. It’s likely a good thing that Hooch had finally recovered herself enough to properly stun that scaly-footed bastard before I’d lost my mind completely — that broomstick was starting to feel like a skewer.

Dinner that evening consisted of a hearty chicken soup, platters of little chicken pies, mashed potatoes, boiled peas and fresh, steamy bread rolls on the side.

Oh, and most everyone in my year stopped calling me “Spleens”.

Tad had been bi— Tad had been given the boot by Mam by the the time I’d started school, and in the summers I’d been the one to continue most of the hunting work while Mam settled herself with tending the garden and foraging for plants. Mam knew the work alright, but she’d mainly been the one to keep records of what was brought home; researching the markets and packaging items properly. Didn’t take long for Tad’s absence to start its work on her though, did it? A little kid can only hunt so many kinds of creatures, and of course I couldn’t have a permit to collect things like doxy venom or dragon eggshells, nor could I travel more than a few miles from home.

Soon the goats were sold to another ingredi-wizard, then any magical plants in our garden that required consistent tending died. I didn’t understand how that could’ve happened, not at the time anyway. Mam was good at hiding her drinking back then. Since we were no longer able to provide the great amount of products as before, businesses started abandoning us for more reliable resources.

Sometimes — just every once in awhile — Tad would show up for a visit.

“Only a few days” I imagine Mam whispering harshly, fearfully, her eyes darting ‘round as though expecting whatever forces demanded they keep apart to come bursting out of her cottage’s walls.

He always went out to try and gather more for us to sell, did Tad. He didn’t take me anywhere with him that was outside of the county, though. The last time I went with him was at the beginning of summer after my third year at Hogwarts. He looked so much older than I’d remembered, or perhaps I hadn’t paid enough attention during his previous visits? Grey streaks were beginning to shoot through his thick black hair, which hadn’t been cut in years. He walked slower than I was used to, moving like his body had turned all sore and stiff; his head constantly swiveled around as we worked, as though the very land that surrounded us could not be trusted.

“Don’t let your sisters and your brother stay inside all day. Teach them how to look after themselves, better than your mam or I have done for ourselves”.

Until he said that, it hadn’t really occurred to me just how reckless my parents were compared to those of my classmates. Before Tad had been forced to leave, he and Mam had thought little of hauling me, toddling Llon and squalling Gwenyn to all kinds of strange and exciting places — places I now know where most parents wouldn’t allow their children to set foot. When they needed to collect dragon eggshells from high up in the mountains, us kids sometimes went along.

I learned where to find snakes before I was seven; how to untangle wire snares without slicing my wrist open when I was eight. I nearly drowned in a lake searching for plimpys — round little creatures with long legs you can tie together — Tad said that’s how Merpeople deal with them because they consider them pests.

My parents also enjoyed firewhiskey. Many times after we’d spent a long day trekking through bracken for mokes and doxy eggs, or slogging around in muddy ditches for flobberworms, Mam ‘n Tad would build up a fire. We would toast sausages, slices of bread and even apples for supper, while two of them added the throat-burning drink to their meal. I can’t recall the bottle ever not being empty the next morning.

The drinking didn’t interfere with much until after Tad was gone.

It’s a wonder all of us kids have lived to see three.

I worry Afon won’t recognize me, after I’ve stayed all year at Hogwarts instead of returning to the Alley during holidays. I know I have a responsibility to my siblings, but the Triwizard tournament and its accompanying delights were hard to resist. Uncle was furious when I refused to return to work at Christmas, while Onyxia wrote that I should try and catch a wealthy boy from Beauxbatons, though a Durmstranger would do.

By the time I make it to Onyxia’s front door the few glass street lamps holding charmed candles have sprung to life, casting faint and eerie shadows. I’ve only just touched the brass kneazle-head knocker when the door is wrenched open from behind.

“It’s about time - oh, Patreva! I hadn’t realized you’d returned already!”

I curl my lips into the sparest of smiles — it’s often a struggle to remain polite with this woman. Patreva is my middle name, not my real name. I don’t even know what it means, and Mam ‘n Tad always avoided using it.

“Noswaith dda, Modryb. Sut ydych chi?”

The pleasure I feel when I speak Welsh at Onyxia is the same as ever: sweet but all too bloody short.

“Patreva Burke! You know far better than to speak that way, to me!”

As if she understood a word I’ve just said?! She’s convinced that any language other than French or Latin is used to disparage her.

“Llon and I came back a few hours ago, Auntie. Uncle Donius sent me to give you this” - I hand her the roll of parchment - “and to take Afon back with me”.

Onyxia stares at the parchment in her hand, eyes narrowing in obvious displeasure.

“Did he send me no money, girl?”

Uh-oh

“I haven’t stolen it, if that’s what you’re thinking!”

Her eyes have gotten even narrower, if that’s possible.

“No, no girl. I suppose...I should’ve expected as much...this time.”

She isn’t looking at me as she says this, rather she’s gazing nowhere in particular at the space behind me, as if suddenly lost in thought...

“Well, wait here a moment, then. Here’s the boy’s belongings.” Before shuffling down her entryway she reaches down and hands me a midsized bag filled with clothes, children’s medicines and very few toys. No tea to be had in her house, apparently. Rude sow.

“Here you are, girl.” Onyxia appears at the door with my youngest brother in tow, his eyes widening at the sight of me and his fist going to his mouth in an image of absolute preciousness.

“Oooh fy mach i! Fy mrawd cy-“

“Speak English to him!” Shrieks the old hag I am forced to respect. “I had to teach him prop—“

But I’m not staying for her xenophobic rant tonight, and neither is fy mrawd bach — my little brother. He’s had enough, and I’ve had enough.

“Goodnight Auntie! Thank you for taking care of him, we need to go back!”

And with that, Afon and I are trotting up the alleyway and into the warm summer night.

Well, I’m trotting; Afon’s on my back.

[diego-hargreeve2]

light in the dark

Part Eighteen

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (Netflix)

Ship: Diego Hargreeves x Original Character

Warnings: Language, abuse (emotional and physical), mental illness, violence and, in later chapters, smut.

In the Brethren they made their own clothes. Eve had few talents, but she knew how to sew, and how to knit. Diego’s clothing was full of holes – she could only assume caused by other people given that he wielded his own knives with a precision she found both slightly terrifying and incredibly arousing at the same time – and she’d persuaded Paula at the shelter to lend her a needle and thread to let her fix a few of the worst. After seeing her repairs, she had become the go-to person for taking up hems, stitching up holes that would let draughts in, and fixing the wear and tear in clothes you get from living on the streets. She was happy to do it in truth, to feel useful and because it was one of the few activities from her childhood she still enjoyed, finding peace in the simple task where you could measure your progress in such clear ways.

On the basis that she expected Diego to swing by at some point she was sat in what the shelter called a ‘foyer’ – hardly more than a wide hallway in truth by the front door – and keeping an eye out for arrivals so she could call somebody actually qualified to help that. Eve expected anyone who walked through to be…well, like her. In need of a shower, wearing clothes that prized function over fashion, and looking for somewhere safe to put their head down.

She didn’t expect Detective Patch.

Her head lifted before her eyes as she finished the stitch and pulled the thread taut before looking up – and staring, stunned.

“Eve? What’re you doing here?” Eudora asked, frowning in confusion. In one hand she held a poster, details of a missing teenager she’d been handing out to every shelter in her precinct in hope of finding the boy before somebody with less honourable intentions.

“I live here” she explained, mentally kicking herself for the answer - that was far more than she needed to have revealed, more than she should have revealed. Placing her needle down she lifted one hand, twisting it behind to grab the phone that sat on the desk. Leaving Eve here helped free up a staff member to cook, to clean, to talk to those who had nowhere else to go – but they would answer when she hit the buzzer that rang through the building.  

“You live here?” Eudora repeatedly, her voice full of pity and sorrow at the concept. As shelters went, this was a good one – when she found people who needed help, it was her preference to bring them here. It relied on charity but was better funded than some, and there was no religion or sanctimonious cruelty in its walls, but it was still intended to be a temporary shelter not a long-term home. Eve shrugged, one finger holding the button down that set off a buzzer and an older woman bustled through, lighting up with a far more welcoming smile than Eve had offered.

“Eudora my dear! How are you?”

It had been a long day and a friendly face was a relief at this point. Detective Patch handed over the poster, discussing in low tones what she knew about the teenage runaway and her concerns. What she wanted was to know where he was, and to know he was okay – she wouldn’t force him back home, there were other options, but first she had to find him.

“If he shows up, we’ll call” Kathy assured her, one hand reaching out to squeeze Patch’s elbow gently. “I’ll put this in our back office – wouldn’t want to scare him off by hanging it up out here”.

“Thanks Kathy” she said, a weary smile crossing her face.

The woman left, disappearing into the shelter, and Eudora considered Eve – it hadn’t escaped her notice that the blonde had watched their entire interaction out the corner of her eye whilst pretending to busy herself with a needle. Only when Patch faced her directly did Eve drop her gaze back to her lap, silent and waiting for the door to swing shut and mark her exit. Except Patch had a different idea. Walking over she stood directly before Eve.

“This was the last stop of my shift – and I’m far too tired to consider cooking. Fancy coming to get a bite to eat with me?” she said, trying to keep the offer light and avoid sounding like she was taking advantage of a chance to interrogate the other.

Eve looked up with a gaze full of wariness. Patch had seen that look a lot – in stray animals when she was a kid, cats she’d tried to tempt with meat scraps so she could trap them and take them to be fixed, in children whose parents emphasised their points with fists, in women who didn’t understand that love isn’t accompanied by scrapes and bruises. It still broke her heart; she had never grown used to it.

“Why?” she asked after a moment.

“I hate to eat alone in public – plus I know a place that sells the best fried chicken” Patch joked, but there was no answering smile and she sighed. “Because you’re Diego’s girl, right? And Diego…is an old friend. I’m probably the person whose known him longest who isn’t family. So, I’d like to get to know you”.

Dropping her gaze back to her idle needle Eve considered. Put like that, it did make sense. Eve hadn’t done a good job so far in integrating herself with his friends, and the suggestion tugged at the guilt she felt over her difficulty in making friends. And Diego trusted Patch…

“Okay. I’ll come along. Give me five minutes” Eve said after a moment, unravelling herself without dropping her stitching and disappearing through the door.

When she returned – wearing her coat, the parka huge on her and half hiding her hands even with the sleeves folded up and followed by another volunteer to take up her position on watch – she was secretly hoping Eudora would have gotten bored waiting – but no, there she was, lounging in the seat Eve had vacated and she stood up rapidly.

“So…where are we going?” Eve checked, hovering by the desk.

“It’s called the Chicken Hut – it doesn’t sound much, but trust me” she assured the other, wondering why the name mattered – but she got her answer in a moment. Eve touched one hand to the desk, ensuring she had the young man’s attention and offering a faint smile.

“If Diego comes by – tell him where I’ve gone?”

“Sure thing Evie” was the response, the volunteer already putting his feet up and opening a book, happy for the break.

As they walked out the building Eudora gestured to her car, although in truth the distance could have been walked. Then she’d have had to walk back though – and frankly, she preferred to keep her cruiser close by.

Once they were both in and buckled up, Patch couldn’t resist the urge to ask, “So – Diego just expects you to be there whenever he shows up?”

Put like that Eve knew it sounded pathetic and she blushed hotly.

“I don’t…I generally don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s more that…he’d be worried, because me not being there or at his place would be weird”. Patch had expected Eve to sound defensive, maybe even annoyed, but her tone was apologetic and ashamed instead. It wasn’t the reaction she expected, and it made her feel guilty for the question – so she lapsed into silence as she figured out her next words. The journey passed without another word, but it was so short that the silence barely had time to grow awkward before Eudora was parking up.

Her greeting to the hostess – an old friend, she knew the manager of the restaurant who was close with her mother – and being seated broke up the quiet and once the young girl had walked away, she turned back to Eve.

“So tell me about yourself – Diego’s been characteristically close lipped” she joked; banter involving Hargreeves had worked before after all. Today however Eve shrugged, twisting her fingers together in her lap.

“He’s just…private. And so am I” she admitted, her unhelpful answer provoking a sign from Patch.

“Your accent isn’t local – I’d guess…Montana?”

“Idaho. So close” she admitted.

“How long have you been in the city?” 

Eve lifted her gaze, eyeing Patch at the question, wondering why it mattered. Even telling herself that Diego trusted this woman, that she was her friend, old habits died hard and she was suspicious of a detective prying into her life. For a moment she watched, fighting the two instincts inside, before turning her attention back to her lap as she answered.

“A year…and a few months? I think six months…eighteen months altogether?”. Enough to see a cycle of seasons before she ran into Diego by chance, and then the time they’d shared together.

It was like pulling teeth – but Patch was used to asking questions of people who didn’t want to answer. Normally however those people were handcuffed to the table, and she could raise her voice to make a point. Eve was free to go, had done nothing wrong – Patch couldn’t even say her efforts to rebuff the attempts at friendly were criminal or rude, everything she had guessed so far (and she put a lot of stock in her guesses) made it completely natural.

“But you’re still living in a shelter?”

At that Eve clammed up entirely. Explaining why she couldn’t get a job, couldn’t rent a property, was skirting too close to things she didn’t want to share. Patch saw it happen, like blinds dropping behind her expression, and pressed on anyway.

“Evie – do you prefer Evie?” Everyone else seemed to use the nickname, even though the blonde introduced herself as Eve, but the only response was shoulders lifting and falling again, “I’m sorry if I’ve…well, I don’t even know. I’m just trying to be friendly. I see a lot of people in positions like yours and-”

“And kicked them along like garbage?”

That raised eyebrows.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a cop. I know cops” Eve said, unable to meet Patch’s eyes despite the bitter edge in her voice – if she looked up, she would lose all courage. “They act like you sleep on the street for your own amusement, move you along to keep shopkeepers happy, treat you like you’re garbage...like you’re an eyesore instead of a person”.

There was a beat of silence, Patch ensuring she replied calmly rather than provoke Eve’s visceral emotional reaction. 

“I’m not that kind of cop”, her voice gentle but insistent. “And I’m not here as a detective. I’d like to be your friend”

“Why? You don’t know anything about me”

“I know Diego likes you – and he’s particular about the company he keeps. It’s enough to be a starting point”.

The waitress returning to take her order was a welcome respite, a break in the tension that crackled between them. Eudora ordered rapidly, noting the way Eve shook her head slightly and doubling her own dinner – if Eve wouldn’t eat it, somebody would. As she walked away Patch looked back to her, trying to figure out how to get through to her. After all – she had cracked Diego. She had to be able to find a way to reach Eve.

“Diego runs around this city in a spandex costume pretending to be a superhero and throwing knives at criminals”. Eve didn’t want to laugh at that description and yet despite herself amusement twitched at the corner of her mouth – and Patch noted that. It was a better reaction than resentment.

“I’ve never locked him up – well. Yet” she said, testing the humour again.

“He’s helping people” Eve insisted, admiration and adoration was clear in her voice.

“Which is why I ignore his antics most of the time. I joined the police to help people – and I’m sorry you’ve had different experiences with cops” Patch said. Eve looked up; head tilted to one side as she scrutinised the other woman.

She looked sincere…and soft. It was a look she saw on the faces of shelter volunteers, but she had never seen a police officer wear the expression. It helped more than any words. There was no question to answer but she nodded very slightly, the movement more about accepting the kindness being offered than agreeing with any sentiment.

“He won’t be happy if he hears you called it a costume” she said. Diego was their common ground and making a joke would him was a safe way to talk Eve figured – safer than sharing her past, however well-meaning Patch’s intentions.

“He’s heard me say it before”, the comment casually dismissive and confident than even if Eve were to report it back, Hargreeves would forgive the remark – from her at least. Confidence can be dangerous though, and relaxing a little Patch pushed forward.

“My point is – I’m not here to punish you. I’d like to help. Even if it’s just by giving you a friend to talk to. I mean – he’s a good guy, but I know how much patience a relationship takes with him. I just figure…talking to somebody who gets it…you might find it helpful”.

It wasn’t like Patch to slip up or fail to spot warning signs – but she had glanced away as she composed her words, and she missed the way Eve looked up sharply as she alluded to the past between her and Diego.

Her blue eyes snapped up, her whole-body tensing.

“You know?”

sorry our beloved knife boy doesn’t make an appearance in this chapter - he’ll show up again soon though dont worry

@lovinglydiego @reblogserpent @klausbutgayer @me125 @fatbottomedcurls @rhymesmenagerie @mrsdiegohargreeves @carryon-doctor-lock

[batgirl-87]

Not Today

Summary: After angrily storming out of Defense Against the Dark Arts class and the library during a study session, experiencing an outburst of rage during Quidditch practice, snapping coldly at Madam Rakepick, and then being found having a breakdown, the gang is very concerned about their normally strong, composed friend and her hostile, emotional change in demeanor. 

Word Count: ~20k

Genre/Warnings: Angst, a little Fluff at the end, Swearing?

Note: I’m not actually sure what genre this is but I guess angst works? A little fluff moment with Charlie at the end, lots of caring and concerned friends, some protective Rowan, and an anxious, stressed out Bill. This ended up being much, much, MUCH longer than originally planned (honestly, the ending became a lot longer than originally planned). I had a lot of feelings! (*insert ‘I just have a lot of feelings* gif from Mean Girls*) So this is more like an emotional venting story, not my best work, but it needed to be done. I also got weirdly into untranslatable words so… enjoy those =p Again, still in Fourth Year in the game even though this story is based on Fifth Year so I apologize for any inconsistencies or errors. – I started writing this before the Halloween event in the game and was already working on the ending when the event started; did add a couple references.

Soundtrack Suggestions: Honestly, I can’t think of any particular songs, I wrote this in a sort of emotional fit of rage, music not necessary, so listen to anything that makes you feel like screaming out in anger and breaking things and then crumble to the ground as a sobbing mess.

Preview: “There are much more difficult things to face and overcome than some cursed artifact or dark wizard. Some things you can never overcome and have to figure out how to cope with every day for the rest of your life. So you can’t stand up there and preach to all of us like you’ve seen it all and overcame it all, like it’s so easy to do, and you just know it all because you don’t! You have no idea how hard it is! And for you to make others who have to endure their challenge every day, who can’t just cast a spell and be rid of it, whose challenge is more about how horribly others treat them because of who they are instead of their actual struggle, feel worse about themselves is wrong. It’s harmful towards individuals and society. You are adding to the narrative and stereotypes, enabling the ignorant hatred and violence, permitting others to turn against people, some good people, who need understanding, compassion, and help. So you and everyone else can shut the fuck up about things you don’t understand because you have no idea, no idea, what real struggle and bravery and strength is.”

The students filed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom looking somewhat sluggish and tired, probably because it was a Monday. They slumped into their desks and took out their required textbook and parchment filled notebooks to take notes on. Keira appeared to be in a particularly down mood today, not that it wasn’t uncommon for her to suddenly fall into a depressing mood when the gravity of her overwhelming situation would abruptly hit her, but this was different. And if anyone had been keeping track of this occurrence they might have discovered a pattern.

“Good afternoon class.” At Madam – er – Professor Rakepick’s voice signaling the start of class, any chatting between the students came to a sudden halt and everyone seemed to sit up straighter at their desks.

“Today I thought it fitting for us to cover one of the most dangerous beasts in the Wizarding world – Werewolves.” Professor Rakepick’s announcement of today’s lesson intrigued a majority of the class, including one Miss Penny Haywood. The popular Hufflepuff’s attention was instantly hooked and, while at first she seemed to pale and appear anxious, she quickly flipped open her book, eager to begin the lesson viewing this as an important learning opportunity. As long as there would be no actual werewolves. Keira, on the other hand, instantly tensed up at the mention of today’s lesson and apprehensively opened up her textbook.

The lesson began generally enough, Professor Rakepick going over common knowledge just in case anyone, probably assuming those muggle born, was unaware of basic facts on werewolves such as the distinctions between a werewolf and regular wolf, a werewolf’s inability to choose whether or not to transform, their inability to remember anything of their former human self when transformed, the falsehood in the muggle world of werewolves being negatively affected by silver, and on the lycanthropy infection that causes it.

Penny diligently took notes on everything Professor Rakepick said even if she was already well aware of the information. Keira couldn’t blame her. She understood Penny endured a traumatic experience with a werewolf and was determined to not allow herself or anyone else she cared about to fall victim to another one. The Slytherin, on the other hand, had yet to take a single mark on her parchment, not even a doodle.

“No, werewolves cannot pass on their lycanthropy to their children,” Professor Rakepick answered a student’s question, appearing a bit annoyed that her lecture was being interrupted, before motioning, albeit rather exasperatedly, to another student whose hand was raised.

“Is there no cure for it?” Professor Rakepick gave a condescending smirk before answering their question.

“No, there is no cure for lycanthropy. However, there is a potion, Wolfsbane Potion, which has proven to allow a werewolf to retain their human mind while transformed which has helped reduce werewolf attacks. It is a very difficult, complicated, and quite expensive to make and very dangerous, even deadly, if made incorrectly,” she added before continuing on with her lecture assuming there would be no more questions interrupting her.

Oh yes, Wolfsbane Potion. Keira remembered asking Professor Snape about it one time in Potions class which of course earned her a glaring look from her Head of House and a comment dripping in disdain. No, they would not be learning that lesson in that class or any other class of his. And she would be a fool to try and attempt it on her own because she would fail miserably and concoct a dangerous poison instead. Why was she interested in that particular potion anyway?

Keira couldn’t remember exactly what excuse she gave him, possibly relating to Penny since Penny was a potion master and always working to advance her technique or create her own potions, and Snape had a soft spot for her so Keira figured dropping Penny’s name couldn’t hurt. Regardless, he dropped it and moved on to the lesson for the day and Keira was incredibly disappointed to discover they would not be learning Wolfsbane Potion then or ever.

She had thought about trying to make it herself but Snape didn’t lie about it being an advanced potion. The ingredients were expensive, sure, but that didn’t faze her at all. And yes, there was a risk buying those particular ingredients since it could alert others to a werewolf’s identity but being a Slytherin and member of the infamous House of Black had its advantages including connections to shady wizards who sold a variety of items secretly including rare potion ingredients. Plus she could always “borrow” some ingredients from Snape – it wouldn’t be the first time nor the last for that. But even if she got the ingredients the risk of messing it up was high.

She had considered asking Penny for her help, who better to help make a potion than her best friend the potions master? But Penny wasn’t stupid, and Keira did not, could not, answer her questions about why she needed this potion. And Penny clearly had her own, personal feelings towards werewolves which could easily cause her to refuse her help. Plus she already asked so much of her friends with finding the Cursed Vaults and this was another personal thing she didn’t want to get them involved in. She had even considered finding someone to pay to make the potion for her, most likely the same type of shady character who would sell the ingredients covertly, but she couldn’t trust someone else to make this type of potion.

No, she would figure this out on her own.

“Werewolves are often shunned and discriminated against in Wizarding society and most believe they are evil creatures who deserve nothing short of death. I’ll let you form your own opinions on them. But I can tell you first hand, facing off against these beasts is a true test of one’s abilities. They are dangerous, murderous, and have killed many wizards, witches, and even muggles,” Professor Rakepick warned causing some student’s to look up fearfully at her.

Keira, on the other hand, simply narrowed her eyes at the Professor. She was quickly growing over this lesson and hoped class was almost over.

Unfortunately, class was nowhere near being over and once Professor Rakepick finished her lesson and warning on how dangerous werewolves were she brought out a practice dummy to demonstrate some defensive and attack spells they could use on a werewolf if they were ever ill-fated to encounter one. Alright, Keira could admit there were absolutely dangerous werewolves out there – she could think of one in particular – and true, they should learn how to defend themselves against one if necessary. However, some of these violent attacks and the overall aggressive attitude of this lesson was starting to wear on her. And honestly, today of all days, she had little patience and tolerance and understanding.

Once she finished her demonstration, Professor Rakepick called the students to come up and form a line to practice the spells she just showed them on the practice dummy. Penny put on a determined face and practically raced up to the front of the classroom. Fortunately it was a basic practice dummy and not one that appeared like an actual werewolf or maybe her attitude would have been different.

And on any other day Keira would admire Penny’s eagerness and bravery to face what happened to her head on and with full dedication, no fear or hesitancy. Keira normally was so proud of Penny’s remarkable ability at coping with her trauma.

But not today.

Today she did not find Penny’s eagerness to learn all she could about werewolves and how to defeat them admirable. She found nothing amusing about the jokes other students made on the topic of today’s lesson. She did not find any of Rakepick’s self-proclaimed daring adventures fighting off werewolves brave or remarkable. And she had nothing but contempt and revulsion at any comments about killing werewolves even if they were directed at a practice dummy.

Yes, there were evil werewolves out there who caused a great deal of harm to others and she planned on ridding the world of a particular one herself one day.

But today…

Today’s lesson and her fellow student’s reaction to it filled her with anger, made her want to cry, and caused her to feel sick to her stomach.

Maybe if this lesson fell on another day, any other day, she wouldn’t feel so strongly. But the lesson had to fall on today and she was not prepared to handle it.

So while the rest of the students made their way up to the front of the class to attack the practice dummy they were supposed to imagine was a werewolf, Keira slammed her textbook shut, shoved her school supplies in her bag, and stood up quickly bumping into her desk and causing it to jolt forward a few inches and slam back down onto the floor. This sudden noise caused the other students and her Professor to look in her direction but Keira showed no signs of acknowledging their attention nor caring about it as she slung her bag over her shoulder and stormed out of the classroom.

She was done.

If she had bothered to look at the front of the classroom she would have noticed the concerned and quizzical looks on her friends’ faces, particularly the dragon obsessed Gryffindor who watched her closely with furrowed brows and searching eyes full of worry.

Keira marched down the labyrinth of hallways and staircases that made up Hogwarts, muttering to herself under her breath at the complete and utter connerie of that lesson, the audacity of Professor Rakepick and those students making their ignorant comments and vicious attacks on the attack dummy. Who did they think they were? They didn’t know anything!

“Miss Black.” Keira stopped dead in her tracks and whirled around when she heard her name called by stern yet gentle voice – she knew really of only one person who could master that type of tone.

“Y-yes, Professor McGonagall,” Keira stammered nervously as it just dawned on her that she was technically skipping class and now had been caught doing so. She was thankful, however, that it was by Professor McGonagall and not Professor Snape.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class? Defense Against the Dark Arts I believe,” Professor McGonagall questioned the young girl who resisted squirming under the powerful witch’s intense gaze.

“W-well, yes, technically I am –“ Keira started, averting her eyes and focusing them on the floor beneath them.

“So then why are you wandering the hallways instead of attending your class,” Professor McGonagall continued her questioning, clasping her hands in front of her.

Keira shifted uncomfortably as she felt the Transfiguration Professor maintain her intense gaze on her, trying to think of how to answer her. “I just… I didn’t exactly agree with today’s lesson,” she eventually replied after what felt like an eternity to her under the close watch of the Gryffindor Head of House. It wasn’t a lie! She couldn’t lie to Professor McGonagall!

“You didn’t agree with the lesson,” Professor McGonagall repeated, astonished by the Slytherin’s reply. She had to admit she was not expecting that answer.

“No, I did not agree with it,” Keira declared adamantly, looking up at the Transfiguration Professor with a sudden conviction and a fiery look in her eyes.

Professor McGonagall studied the tenacious Slytherin. No other students had appeared to have stormed out of the classroom so it could not have been that controversial of a lesson. And she was well aware some lessons, particularly those in regards to the Dark Arts could upset some of their more sensitive students but Keira wasn’t normally one to allow her emotions to get the better of her like this.

“May I ask what this unbearable lesson was, exactly,” Professor McGonagall finally asked, partially she admitted out of her own curiosity. What lesson could have sent this student in particular who dealt with so much, carried so much with them, on a daily basis to finally reach her breaking point? And what if this was a lesson that needed to be examined upon closer inspection and have necessary changes made to it?

Keira’s sudden relentless and bold attitude wavered at the Professor’s next question. “… It was on werewolves, ma’am,” she answered quietly, her gaze once against shifting down to the floor.

Oh here it came. All the questions about why this lesson of all the lessons upset her? Upset her so much it caused her to walk out of class. And then a lecture on the importance of the lessons they learned there at Hogwarts and while some may be difficult or even scary to some they had to learn them. And then she would be forced back into that class. The embarrassment of being ushered back in after her somewhat dramatic exit would just be the icing on the cake to this horrible day today was turning out to be.

But the series of questioning and matter-of-fact lecture that disregarded one’s feelings never came.

Instead Professor McGonagall’s eyes softened for a moment, full of understanding and perhaps even some nostalgia, at Keira’s honest reply. “Well, we can’t have you aimlessly wandering the hallways during class time. Come along,” she said as she glided past the Slytherin to continue down the hall towards her classroom. “It’s been awhile since we’ve had one of your private Transfiguration lessons.”

Keira watched the poised Professor curiously. “What?”

“You should be learning something,” Professor McGonagall stated before motioning towards the open door to her classroom. Once the shock wore off over McGonagall’s kind and generous reaction to her confession of ditching class, Keira grinned and hurried into the Transfiguration classroom. Maybe this day wasn’t so bad after all.

“Very good, Miss Black,” Professor McGonagall praised as the young Slytherin bonded a couple books together.

“Thank you, Professor,” Keira replied before undoing her transfiguration spell. “I appreciate you taking the time to teach me like this.”

“I am a Professor, Miss Black. It is my job to teach. And when I see promising young students like yourself, providing individual private lessons is a pleasure,” Professor McGonagall replied with a kind smile. Keira smiled back at her before attempting to cast Epoximise again. Her attitude had drastically changed from earlier. She had forgotten about being angry and resentful and was enjoying learning a new lesson with a Professor who understood how she felt better than most, if anyone else, at Hogwarts.

“You know, Sirius and his friends were quite skilled at Transfigurations as well,” Professor McGonagall casually mentioned, although there really was nothing casual about it.

Keira paused in her practicing and looked up at her Professor curiously. “Yeah?”

At her gentle prodding Professor McGonagall continued, explaining what she meant further. Alright, sure, she admitted Sirius and his friends tended to get into some trouble but their skills in Transfigurations and other areas of magic were noteworthy. “The only thing more remarkable than their ability to use their impressive magical talents to consistently get into trouble was their unwavering loyal friendship. Which was especially beneficial for Mr. Lupin who always appeared to be a bit of a loner until them. He really seemed to open up, come into his own with them – happier.” A sad smile formed on the distinguished Professor’s face which Keira mirrored.

“You know, it’s good to hear someone speak about them in a positive way,” Keira said after a moment before letting out a hollow chuckle. “Professor Snape only condemns me for my relationship to them.”

“Yes, well Sev- Professor Snape never got along well with them,” Professor McGonagall recalled with a nod of her head.

“Yeah, that’s been made pretty clear,” Keira muttered.

While she thought this topic may prove to be somewhat therapeutic for the Slytherin, Professor McGonagall had to admit she enjoyed reminiscing for a bit with Keira despite the bittersweet subject. And Keira greatly appreciated Professor McGonagall talking to her about it.

“Here’s a list of some books I recommend you read to advance your talents in Transfigurations, if you’re interested. I may even be willing to provide some extra credit if you write a particularly compelling essay on what you learn from them. And if you promise to go straight to the library, no detours, and get straight to work I will let you go,” Professor McGonagall negotiated as she handed her student a piece of parchment with her book suggestions.

“I promise. Straight to the library to quietly read these,” Keira assured her, holding up the list. “I won’t cause anyone any trouble,” she added.

Professor McGonagall smiled warmly down at the Slytherin and nodded her head to silently permit her to leave despite it still being class time for her. Keira thanked her again, and again and again – for everything. For giving her a private lesson and recommending books for her to advance her skills, investing in her and encouraging her, and most importantly talking to her about Sirius and Remus and their time as students which helped her feel closer to her family, one she barely knew. She appreciated McGonagall being there for her.

Keira hurried to the library without any detours, as promised, in a much better mood form earlier. She honestly had forgotten about that class and how it made her feel. Forgot that she was even ditching it!

She wandered up and down the many aisles of books, locating the ones Professor McGonagall suggested for her. She balanced the list on top of the small stack of books she carried in her arms as she now hunted for a spot to sit. The library had been filled recently by Seventh Years preparing for their N.E.W.T.s. Funny, she couldn’t remember other Seventh Year students taking up most of the library any other year.

And speaking of Seventh Years…

Keira’s grey eyes landed on a familiar redhead sitting at the end of one of the tables who looked uncharacteristically anxious with his head in his hands as his eyes frantically scanned one of the many open books laid out in front of him. Oh the poor boy… Keira laughed slightly to herself and shook her head before making her way over to the stressed out eldest Weasley.

“Mind if I join you,” Keira asked quietly as she pulled out a chair for herself. Bill’s head whipped up from his intensive studying to look up at her.

“What? Yeah, sure,” Bill replied frenetically, motioning to the chair she had already pulled out for herself.

Keira frowned slightly as she set her armful of books down on the table and slid her bag off her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“What,” Bill asked again, whipping his head back up once again from the books that continually absorbed all his attention. “Y-yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just studying for my N.E.W.T.s you know, and it’s exhausting! I mean, if it’s this exhausting just studying for them imagine how exhausting it will be taking them!” Bill laughed a bit hysterically as he leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair look positively mad.

Keira stared at him as she set her bag on the ground next to her and took a seat next to the exhausted and somewhat crazed Gryffindor. “…When’s the last time you got some sleep?”

“Sleep? Sleep,” he repeated, growing louder and earning a harsh SHUSH from Madam Pince and some other students in the library studying for their own N.E.W.T.s. “I can’t afford sleep right now,” Bill informed her matter-of-factly in a stern whisper.

“Okay…” Keira replied, grabbing one of the books Professor McGonagall suggested for her. ”Someone needs to drink some Draught of Peace,” she muttered under her breath.

“What,” Bill demanded, giving her a harsh look. What did she just say?!

Uh oh… Quickly, think of a way out of this! “…You can borrow some of my books on Transfigurations if you want. Professor McGonagall recommended them personally,” she offered gently. Crazed, sleep-deprived, anxious Bill scared her.

“Yeah,” Bill asked, eyeing the small stack of books on the table seeming to calm down for the moment. “Thanks.” Keira nodded her head as she watched him closely.

“Will, I’m worried about you,” she confessed.

Bill took a deep breath before replying. “I’m fine, really. I just… I need to do well on these exams so I can become a Curse-Breaker,” he explained, sounding more like his composed self.

“Yeah, not everyone can be skilled enough to break their first curse at age eleven and secure themselves a job before taking their exams. I probably don’t even need to take the N.E.W.T.s. Could just leave school, walk right into Gringotts and inform them that I’m their new Curse-Breaker and they’d be like ‘alright’.” Keira’s teasing reply earned a small smirk from the eldest Weasley.

“No, unfortunately we cannot all be blessed like you,” Bill replied sarcastically, Keira smirking at him now. There was the William she knew and loved.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be in class right now,” Bill suddenly asked causing Keira to tense up slightly. Oh crap, busted again!

“Oh well I… I wasn’t feeling well so I left. Then I ran into Professor McGonagall and she helped me feel better. And then she gave me this list of books she thought I should read to help me advance my Transfigurations skills. And now I share them with you,” Keira replied, passing him one of her books.

“Thanks,” Bill said as he watched her closely. He suspected something more was up but these N.E.W.T.s were constantly stealing his focus. He figured if she or Charlie or anyone else really needed him they would be more direct about it.

The two fell silent as Bill resumed his exhaustive studying and Keira flipped open one of the books suggested to her and began reading. During their quiet studying session Bill let out a frustrated groan and slumped in his seat. Upon further investigation by Keira it was determined the source of Bill’s frustration was Ancient Runes. She slid the book that had currently captured Bill’s attention over so she could take a better look at it before offering her help.

“What about your own stuff,” Bill asked in a defeated tone, motioning to her books on Transfigurations.

“I can read those whenever,” Keira assured, waving off at her books on the table. “Besides, you always help me with Arithmancy,” she pointed out. Oh no, what would she do when he graduated and was no longer there to help her with her Arithmancy?! Her eyes widened as that realization dawned on her.

“Don’t worry, you can always owl me when you need help with your Arithmancy,” Bill assured her, understanding exactly what that look on her face meant.

“I can owl you my homework and you’ll do it for me,” Keira asked with an impish grin.

“That’s not what I sai-“

“Thank you, Will,” Keira cried out joyously as she leaned over to wrap her arms around the Gryffindor prefect and hug him tightly, earning a couple shushes from other students around them but she paid them no mind.

“Okay, alright. Let’s just focus on Ancient Runes for right now,” Bill suggested, patting one of her arms that was snuggly around him a couple times. Keira slowly released the eldest Weasley and began to help him with his studies on Ancient Runes.

So maybe the day had a rough start but it was a thousand times better now. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all…

Soon enough some familiar faces joined them for their study session in the library once their class let out. Penny plopped down in the chair next to Keira, Rowan begrudgingly taking the next seat over while Charlie and Barnaby made themselves comfortable on the other side of the table, the second eldest Weasley sitting next to his brother and across from formerly fuming Slytherin.

“There you are Keira. Is everything okay,” Penny asked, her voice full of concern, just like Charlie’s eyes watching her closely from across the table.

“Yeah, why,” Keira asked as she kept her eyes locked on the book in front of her, suddenly feeling more tense at their arrival. Their presence just reminded her of what she was trying to get away from.

“Because you stormed out of class in a fiery rage,” Barnaby exaggerated causing Rowan to shake her head.

“No, that wasn’t a fiery rage for her,” Rowan informed them. She had seen Keira in a rage and that was not it but she was definitely upset.

“You stormed out of class in a fit of rage,” Bill questioned, his attention suddenly grabbed from his studies. Keira could feel the lecture looming.

“N.E.W.T.s.” That was all Keira had to say for Bill’s focus to instantly go back to his studies.

“It may not have been a fit of rage but you were clearly upset.” Penny steered the conversation back to the topic they came there to discuss and Keira had to resist rolling her eyes. She could feel all of their eyes locked on her and it was close to driving her mad.

“So, why did you leave in the middle of class,” Barnaby asked gently, his voice full of concern. Keira couldn’t give a snide remark when his was genuinely worried.

“I just…wasn’t feeling well,” Keira finally answered with a shrug.

“Did you go see Madam Pomfrey,” Rowan asked. “Because if you haven’t maybe we should go to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Rowan, really,” Keira assured, raising up a hand to signal to her roommate to calm down and stop grabbing her things in preparation to leave. “I’m feeling a lot better,” she added, throwing a reassuring look to her friends, particularly Barnaby who she felt was mere moments away from either hugging her and never letting her go or knocking out anyone that came near her. Or both.

“Okay,” Penny replied after studying her a moment, although she didn’t sound entirely convinced, if Keira didn’t want to talk about it she wasn’t going to force her. “Well you missed quite the exciting class.”

Keira clenched her jaw at Penny’s mention of the day’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class. She couldn’t help but find it a little flippant that they were so concerned about why she left the class so upset and then went right into talking about it and all that she missed.

Her whole body grew tenser as Penny, Rowan, and Barnaby continued to discuss what she missed in class amongst themselves, excited over the new spells they learned. Penny in particular was eager to talk about today’s lesson. It was taking all of Keira’s willpower to keep from exploding at the keen Hufflepuff, from shouting at her to shut up. And to keep from snapping at Charlie to stop staring at her! She knew he was worried about her, and she appreciated it, but he had to stop just staring at her like he was waiting for her to have a breakdown or else she would have one! At least he wasn’t participating in this discussion over their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson for the day. He even tried to steer the conversation to dragons, which was a normal occurrence, and maybe it was a bit narcissistic to think he was doing it for her, but Keira appreciated his efforts to change the topic of discussion since this one clearly upset her. And if anyone recognized what was going on with her, it would be the observant Seeker who always seemed to notice things about her and discern how she was feeling – which honestly sort of weirded her out. She wasn’t use to someone paying so much attention to her like that… Well, besides Rowan.

Alright, maybe it was not so obvious since she hadn’t said anything explicitly but she did leave class upset, which they were just concerned about a few moments ago, and her knuckles were white from gripping her book so tightly, her jaw clenched so tight she worried her teeth may shatter. Not to mention the anger and irritation wafting off of her and making their atmosphere heavy and tense.

“Would be cool to see a werewolf,” Barnaby considered, earning a slight glare from Penny that went unnoticed, fortunately, by the magical creature lover as he continued to think about what seeing a werewolf first hand would be like.

“You sound like Tonks,” Rowan laughed. Her joke seemed to only irritate Penny further and she suddenly turned her attention to the other magical creature obsessed person at the table.

“I assume you would love to run into one in the Forbidden Forest sometime too, huh?” Charlie blinked and looked over at Penny with wide, somewhat fearful eyes, finally breaking his focus from Keira at least. The normally happy and supportive Hufflepuff had such a pointed and accusatory tone it threw him, and everyone else at the table, off. Her piercing glare was also uncharacteristic for her and Charlie wasn’t really sure how to handle this new side of Penny.

Charlie quickly glanced around at the others at the table, Barnaby and Rowan looking just as shocked and thrown off as him, before looking back at the popular Hufflepuff. “I just want to find a dragon,” he awkwardly replied. Everyone knew he was obsessed with dragons. He had never mentioned werewolves once! Why was he suddenly under interrogation?

“A dragon is probably less dangerous than a werewolf,” Penny muttered. Charlie was admittedly too afraid of her at the moment to debate that.

“Werewolves are evil, despicable, abhorrent, murderous creatures. I’m glad we’re learning how to fight against them and stop them from hurting anyone else. They’re like some sort of sinister, destructive, killing epidemic that needs to be extinguished.” Penny’s passionate speech left everyone at the table in silence.

It was unknown how many knew of Penny’s traumatizing experience with a werewolf. Keira suspected she was the only one which made her powerful declaration more shocking to the rest of those at the table; well, except for maybe Bill who was still absorbed into his studies. Barnaby and Rowan stared at the fired-up Hufflepuff with wide eyes while Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his seat and averted his gaze from the intense one of the blonde across the table.

On any other day, Keira would have been more understanding and compassionate towards Penny and her circumstances. She knew what Penny had gone through, what she had lost because of a vicious werewolf attack. As far as she knew she was the only one who knew what Penny went through. Which required her to more supportive for her Hufflepuff friend. And on any other day she would have let Penny’s impassioned speech roll off her back, understanding it was specifically about the situation Penny unfortunately experienced and all the emotions she constantly kept bottled up inside over losing someone close to her – and Keira knew a thing or two about keeping emotions bottled up – and not take it personally.

But not today.

Today Penny’s emotional opinions on werewolves that led her to speak out against them made Keira’s blood boil. It took every ounce of self-control Keira had to keep from flipping the table over, smacking Penny in the face with her book, and blowing up with her own passionate speech about how wrong Penny was and despite her own personal experience it wasn’t universal and her views were ignorant and harmful.

No, she couldn’t trust herself to stay there. The longer she sat there the angrier she got. And the angrier she got the less she was able to control her wrath.

Keira slammed her book shut and stood up abruptly, her chair scooting back, scrapping loudly against the hardwood floors. Her actions earned her a harsh glare from Madam Pince but no loud shushing, possibly from the intense rage and fury rolling off of her in waves tarnishing the entire atmosphere in the library. Her abrupt actions also caused all her friends to stare up at her with wide, somewhat frightened eyes.

“…Keira,” Penny started carefully, the concern from earlier back in her voice. The concern for her back in all her friends’ eyes. She could feel it. And she appreciated it, she did. But right now she could not handle it, handle everything she was feeling right now, and had to get away.

“I have Quidditch practice,” Keira curtly replied as she swung her bag over her shoulder and piled her books in her arms before storming now out of the library. Was this her new thing? Storming out of every room in Hogwarts?

She could feel her friends’ eyes on her as she quickly made her leave. She knew they were worried about her, and again she appreciated it, but for now she prayed they did not follow her and hoped they would eventually forget about all of this so she wouldn’t have to talk about it.

Her friends shared a look between them once Keira left the library, full of questions and worry although no one dared to speak yet while the tense, hostile atmosphere lingered.

That is, until Barnaby gasped suddenly. “Oh! That means I have Quidditch practice too!” In classic Barnaby style, his comment eased the tension and instantly lightened the mood. He grabbed his bag as he stood up to head off to practice as well before Charlie’s voice caused him to pause.

“Hey, uh… make sure she’s okay… Okay?” Barnaby studied the troubled Gryffindor a moment before smiling at his fellow magical creature enthusiast.

“Of course. Once she hits some Bludgers around she’ll feel much better,” Barnaby assured before waving at his friends as he took his leave as well. That normally proved to be therapeutic for her in the past anyways.

Keira walked out of the Quidditch Changing Room and out onto the Pitch after changing into her gear. She preferred using the actual Quidditch Pitch for practices rather than the Training Pitch since the Quidditch Pitch is where matches were actually held and she felt practicing there better prepared her team for a game. She understood the Training Pitch opted for better privacy from any spies since the Quidditch Pitch was surrounded by spectator stands but it also lacked goal hoops which Keira, and most Quidditch captains, found useless. And this being her first year as Quidditch Captain for the Slytherin team, she wanted to give them every advantage.

Fortunately she was on good terms with Charlie and Andre so she wasn’t too concerned about anyone from Gryffindor or Ravenclaw spying on their practices and Hufflepuffs were too honest to do so, right? Although, sometimes she did suspect Andre might take an interest in watching her team’s practice since they tended to get quite competitive with each other over Quidditch.

Most of her team were already gathered around on the field chatting away. They had been going over some new strategies lately that were still written on the board in their Changing Rooms so they were able to refresh their memory before heading out for practice without having a team meeting beforehand to go over it all again. Keira swapped hands holding her broom to adjust one of her arm guards.

Her Quidditch broom was the first big purchase Keira bought on her own that wasn’t necessary school supplies. She knew her adopted parents were not very keen on her getting a broom but she bought it on her own! However, she understood their concern since what happened with Jacob so she agreed to compromise and promised to only use her broom for Quidditch related things like practices and games and the rest of the time Madam Hooch would keep her broom locked up safely. Sometimes it really irked Keira she couldn’t have her broom that she paid for herself, such as last year when she needed to get into the Forbidden Forest, but she did her best to see things from their perspective and be understanding towards their feelings on the matter.

Barnaby soon came trotting out of the Changing Rooms, hopping awkwardly as he held his Beater bat under one arm while he tried to secure one of his shin guards. “I’m here! I’m here,” he called since it appeared like the entire team was out there ready to go and waiting on him.

“Barnabas,” Keira called out to him with a slight sigh. “Your broom.”

Barnaby paused, balancing on one leg as he looked up at his Captain when she called out to him, taking a moment to process what she meant. “Oh yeah!” He turned to quickly head back into the Changing Rooms, muttering some curses as the shin guard he had been working on fell half off, the top not being securely fastened. It made for quite the sight of him awkwardly running with it hanging off his leg that even Keira in her foul mood couldn’t fight off a smile. Soon he returned from the Changing Rooms, broom and bat in hand and shin guard securely on.

Now that everyone was ready with their brooms and equipment securely fastened, the Slytherin team got on their brooms and took to the skies for practice. While normally hitting Bludgers proved to be very therapeutic for her and allowed her to get out her frustrations and stress in a healthy manner, and also kept her from fighting or threatening to fight her peers – her and Barnaby were quite the pair – this time Keira could not shake off this bad mood she was in. But it kept her from flipping table in the library and smacking Penny in the face with a book which she would have definitely regretted so guess it was helping in its own way. She still was incredibly upset though.

“Okay, let’s take a break!” After calling out to her team, Keira landed on the ground with the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team for a brief break to rehydrate.

“Listen, these are some great new formations and all but I think we should be working on making our plays more aggressive,” one of the Chasers suggested.

“Aggressive but nothing illegal, right,” Keira asked, eyeing their teammate who gave her a wicked smirk and shrugged.

“It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught.” Keira sighed and shook her head. Stereotypical Slytherin.

“I’m all for being aggressive but I will not condone reckless and dangerous tactics that are focused on injuring others on purpose,” Keira declared sternly.

“I never said the intent was injuring them. But if they get hurt, well, Quidditch is a tough sport. Got to plan for getting hurt.” Keira sighed again while a couple of her teammates chuckled. What was with people today? Or maybe it was just her and her disgruntled mood.

“Hey, heard you stormed out of Defense Against the Dark Arts today,” their Seeker mentioned casually.

“So,” Keira asked, instantly defensive.

“So… why did you do that,” their Seeker asked before their Keeper chimed in.

“Yeah, I mean if you’re going to ditch class you don’t go and then walk out, you just don’t go.” Keira sighed heavily. Word travelled so fast at this school.

“I heard you also stormed out of the library before practice,” another one of her Chasers added before Keira had the chance to answer her Seeker’s question.

“I heard you were mad at Penny Haywood,” their third Chaser chimed in. Well guess Keira should be happy for once the rumors swirling about her weren’t about her being mad like her brother.

“You’re fighting with Penny Haywood,” the second Chaser gasped. “How can you not get along with Penny? She literally gets along with everyone. Everyone. Even Liz who only talks to animals and that weird loner Ravenclaw. What’s his name? Trevor?”

“It’s Talbott,” Keira snapped slightly. “And I’m not fighting with Penny,” she clarified.

“That’s good because the whole school would turn against you. Everyone loves Penny,” her third Chaser informed her, as if she didn’t know. And Keira did love Penny! She considered her one of her best friends!

“Well I don’t know if you had the same lesson we did, but if so, you missed a cool Defense Against the Dark Arts class,” her Keeper informed her while her two Chasers continued to ramble on about Penny and her popularity.

“We learned about werewolves and how to fight them –“

“Who could possibly have a problem with Penny?”

“I don’t know. It wouldn’t be wise to start anything with her though since she has the whole school on her side –“

“I think Blatching could easily be done – Whoops, didn’t mean to collide into them –“

“So then why did you storm out of the library then?”

“And why are people saying it was because of Penny?”

“David blasted the practice dummy so hard it almost slammed against the wall. Feel bad for any werewolf that crosses him.”

“Are we allowed to elbow an opponent in the face? What if we did it “accidentally”?”

“Are you sure you’re not in a fight with Penny?”

Everyone on her team incessantly talking over one another was beginning to be a bit of a sensory overload and definitely overwhelmingly frustrating.

Instead of Quidditch being a healthy way for her to cope with everything going on in her life it was becoming an added stressor to it. She had hoped practice would help take her mind off of everything going on that day and instead she was getting bombarded by everyone about it!

While any other day Quidditch helped her release her pet up aggression clearly it was not working,

Not today.

Keira suddenly let out a loud, frustrated yell before taking her bat and hitting it aggressively, repeatedly against one of the goal hoops poles as hard as she could. This proved to be much more therapeutic than hitting the Bludgers around. Bonus – it caused everyone on her team to shut up and stare at her with wide, terrified eyes.

Barnaby in particular was affected by Keira’s little outburst of rage. He had seen her hit a Bludger with a lot of force and bark orders as Captain, and he had seen her defend her friends against any bullying but this – this was a side of Keria he had never really seen before. She had snapped!

She normally was able to hold everything together despite what she was going through and was always the ones her friends turned to and relied on for support and reassurance. Even when she got angry over someone teasing one of her friends she never reacted so violently and full of fury. Rowan had told the rest of their gang before about her roommate’s breakdowns, either a sobbing mess or a raging fire, but none of them had ever seen it before. Sure, they sometimes caught her getting a little emotional, a little teary-eyed, but Barnaby never expected her to suddenly snap and attack like that. Fortunately it was the goal hoop and not a person.

Regardless, this angry outburst caused her Beater Buddy to be much more concerned over her and her mental health. He had really thought practice and hitting Bludgers around would fix things like it normally did. But clearly something much more was going on and he had no idea what and, therefore, no idea how to make it better!

After beating on the goal hoop post for a couple minutes while her teammates stared in silent shock, Keira gave the post one more solid hit before throwing her Beater bat behind her with such force all her teammates had to duck to avoid getting smacked in the face with it, their Keeper reaching up to make the save – as they should – and caught it before it flew too far.

“Practice is over,” Keira informed them coldly before grabbing her broom and storming off the Quidditch Pitch and back into the Changing Rooms.

So guess this angry, storming out move was becoming her new thing after all.

Her team watched her go before sharing looks between them. Was she serious? No more practice for the day? Barnaby snatched Keira’s bat out of the Keeper’s hand to return to her, although he thought he should wait until she calmed down a bit first.

Keira did her best to avoid people the rest of the day. She thanked Barnaby for returning her bat to her in the Slytherin Common Room after the Quidditch practice incident. She then had to spend the next ten minutes assuring him she was fine and no she did not want to talk about what happened! But she appreciated his concern. She would feel better tomorrow. Probably. Hopefully.

Keira skipped dinner that evening in the Great Hall which left her friends to try and decipher what was going on with her with the added information Barnaby provided them about what happened during Quidditch Practice.

“She attacked the goal post,” Penny repeated in surprise, trying to imagine it.

“Then she almost took us all out when she threw the bat,” Barnaby added, looking down as he recounted their practice’s events. He was clearly struggling with some inner turmoil himself. “I tried asking her what was wrong and how I could help after practice but she just kept saying she was fine.” How was he supposed to help his friend who was obviously going through something when they didn’t tell him what was wrong?!

“I told you guys she has these rage meltdowns!” Rowan sounded as if she was scolding them all which she sort of was, and did on a regular basis. As Keira’s roommate she was the only one who saw how much Keira was suffering. While she was able to put on a brave face in front of everyone else on a day to day basis, Rowan knew how hard this all was on her. And while Rowan did her best to comfort her friend, and she may not freely admit this but she liked comforting her friend during these moments and being needed, she did try and inform the rest of their group of friends when Keira was having a harder time than others so they could aid in making her feel better and not ask so much of her during those times.

And while their friends agreed to do that, they did not truly understand how much Keira was struggling. Not like Rowan who witnessed it firsthand. Hence, when they always turned to Keira for help with… well, basically everything, needing her reassurance to help her find her brother after offering their help, Rowan couldn’t help but get frustrated with them.

Did they forget that Keira’s brother was missing and could be dead? Did they not fully grasp how hard it was to go looking for your brother, while everyone around you talked about how crazy he was, how he might be a Death Eater, or dead, while trying to save the school from curses, and on top of all that having her life being threatened?! Besides the stress of the Cursed-Vaults and her missing brother, Keira was a Prefect and Quidditch Captain which added more responsibilities to her plate, and had to go to class, do homework, and study for exams, just like the rest of them! Dumbledore, Hagrid, Madam Rosmerta, House Ghosts, other students, and some Professors all asked Keira to help them with something like she didn’t already have enough to deal with! Rowan would smack all these people if she could!

Sometimes she wished the rest of their friends would witness Keira having a breakdown so they would better understand what was going on inside their friend all the time. But, and again she would not freely admit this, Rowan kind of liked being the only one who witnessed Keira’s breakdowns and being the only one there for her best friend during those dark times – like they had a special bond the others didn’t.

“That one wasn’t even that bad. She’s had much worse,” Rowan informed them before taking a bite of her sandwich.

“Well, what do you think is wrong then,” Penny asked, a little snippy at Rowan’s know-it-all attitude. When it was about course work she didn’t mind it but when came to their friend she did not appreciate it being hinted that the rest of them didn’t know or care as much about Keira as she did.

“I don’t know but I can talk to her tonight during Astronomy and see if I can find anything out,” Rowan offered, ignoring Penny’s slightly harsh tone.

“Or, maybe we can go and try to talk to her after dinner,” Penny countered. They were all her friends and they all were concerned about her.

“Guess we could do that too. I just thought maybe going in as a group may put her on the defensive is all,” Rowan reasoned.

“Well then maybe just you and I go then,” Penny bartered, quick with her reply.

“…Okay,” Rowan conceded with a shrug.

“Barnaby, are you okay,” Penny asked the hunched over Slytherin who looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do to make her feel better,” Barnaby cried out in anguish. The rest of dinner pretty much consisted of comforting Barnaby.

Keira hugged her knees to her chest as she sat on the cool ground. A light breeze sent a chill throughout her body but she had no desire to go inside. In fact she sort of welcomed and enjoyed the crisp autumn-almost-winter air. She took another deep breath as her grey eyes stared fixed on the reflection of the night sky on the surface of the Black Lake.

She knew her friends were looking for her, probably wandering all throughout Hogwarts. But she needed to be alone right now. And she hoped if they came out there looking for her they wouldn’t see her still figure sitting in the dark. Fortunately, Hogwarts and its grounds were pretty vast so if they did stumble upon her it shouldn’t be for some time. Or ever, if it was up to Keira.

Another small breeze blew a strand of her hair back, away from her face, sending another chill throughout her body. After a day of so much anger and rage coursing through her, Keira now felt drained. She felt exhausted and completely depressed. She just wanted to curl up by the fire in the Common Room, stare out into the lake, and be left alone, but she knew that wouldn’t be a possibility. Her friends had been on her all day about what was going on with her and she couldn’t escape Rowan and Barnaby in her House’s Common Room. And she felt so guilty keeping things from them and pushing them away when she saw how concerned they were and how much they wanted to help but she couldn’t talk to them about this.

So if she couldn’t stare out into the lake from her Common Room then she would come outside and enjoy it out there in the cold night air. And now, after her day of slamming books and desks, thrashing a goal hoop post, possibly throwing and breaking some things in the Slytherin Dorm while her friends were at dinner, and storming away from everyone in a fit of rage, Keira just wanted to cry.

She had tried so hard to conceal her anger, push it down so she didn’t explode, which obviously didn’t go according to plan since she had her little outbursts, but they could have been worse. She would still have some explaining to do to her friends, which she had no idea what she would say so that added another layer of stress. But she could worry about that tomorrow, that’s what she told herself anyway so she wouldn’t get overwhelmed. And now she was using what little energy she had left to hold back her tears. Although that was beginning to become quite the fail as well as a couple tears escaped her eyes and ran down her face.

Keira didn’t know how long she had been out there, but this was the most calm she had felt all day. Albeit, sad, but at least not full of unbridled rage unsure of what to do with it or how to safely let it out. She could let out her emotions presently, finally able to put down her defenses now that she was finally alone, and cry as much as she wanted without anyone around judging her or her friends panicking over her, trying to figure out what was wrong and how to help. Sometimes, a lot of times, she needed to be alone. And able to just let her emotions out without any questions or judgments or anyone trying to stop her and fix it – things were not so easy to fix!

But she wasn’t ready to let everything tormenting inside of her out just yet. She just wanted to sit there in silence, not thinking about anything and, if she could help it, not feeling anything.

She jumped and whipped her head around when she heard someone approaching from behind her. And of all the people she thought would find her out there – Rowan, Penny, Hagrid, Professor Snape – this was the last one she wanted finding her.

“Are you supposed to be out here at this hour, Miss Black?”

Keira narrowed her eyes at their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher before slowly standing up as her professor continued.

“Not that I’m one to talk. I broke curfew all the time when I was student here,” Professor Rakepick bragged before pausing a moment as she studied the girl. “So, is this where you ran off to when you left in the middle of my class?”

“If you want to punish me for that, go ahead,” Keira replied coldly as she continued to stare out at the lake.

Professor Rakepick looked taken aback by the Slytherin’s reply but quickly wiped that look off her face. “I don’t plan on punishing you, Miss Black,” she informed her student which came as a surprise to Keira, “But I would like an explanation for that display in my class.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Keira answered, using the same excuse as before when her friends asked her. Which wasn’t a total lie – she didn’t feel well! She felt sick to her stomach, in fact!

“Is that so? Yet you did not go see Madam Pomfrey.” Keira could feel Professor Rakepick’s eyes boring into her but she held her ground. “I checked with her after class. After that fit you threw.” Keira tensed up, her hands fisting at her sides. That anger she had been wrestling with all day and finally thought she was rid of was beginning to boil again.

“So if you were, in fact, not feeling well, then why did you not go see Madam Pomfrey,” Professor Rakepick continued to interrogate.

“I ran into Professor McGonagall. We had a private Transfiguration lesson,” Keira informed her.

“Oh I see. So you’d rather learn Transfigurations than how to defend yourself against dark wizards and witches and evil beasts -“ Professor Rakepick stopped as she noticed Keira scoff and shake her head, and she assumed roll her eyes but the Slytherin had yet to look at her. “Well then, if that’s not what the problem is then why don’t you share what is really bothering you,” she commanded, crossing her arms.

Despite this order Keira did not reply forcing Professor Rakepick to make an assumption. “If this is something about the Cursed Vaults –“ she stopped again as Keira let out a hollow laugh.

“You know what your problem is,” Keira suddenly spoke, turning to finally face the former Head Curse-Breaker. Professor Rakepick wasn’t sure if she should be offended or intrigued at what this girl had to say.

“You think you know everything. Have seen everything. Faced it all. You’ve travelled everywhere, facing dangerous creatures and dark wizards and tombs full of traps, breaking curses on numerous artifacts which could kill you – all of this has given you a superiority complex. You walk around here like you’re better than everyone because you think you have faced every challenge life has to throw at you and conquered it, so clearly you’re the most powerful, strongest, and bravest witch there ever was.

“But you don’t know everything. And you definitely have not faced and conquered every challenge life can throw at you – not even close. You have no idea what real bravery and strength is. Real bravery and strength is getting up every day and putting yourself out there to try and make your life better even when the entire world is against you. Being kind and compassionate to others even when all they do is judge and hate you without ever getting to know you. Enduring excruciating mental and physical pain time and time again, being completely alone after losing everyone close to you, but you keep going and never let it consume you.

“There are much more difficult things to face and overcome than some cursed artifact or dark wizard. Some things you can never overcome and have to figure out how to cope with every day for the rest of your life. So you can’t stand up there and preach to all of us like you’ve seen it all and overcame it all, like it’s so easy to do, and you just know it all because you don’t! You have no idea how hard it is! And for you to make others who have to endure their challenge every day, who can’t just cast a spell and be rid of it, whose challenge is more about how horribly others treat them because of who they are instead of their actual struggle, feel worse about themselves is wrong. It’s harmful towards individuals and society. You are adding to the narrative and stereotypes, enabling the ignorant hatred and violence, permitting others to turn against people, some good people, who need understanding, compassion, and help. So you and everyone else can shut the fuck up about things you don’t understand because you have no idea, no idea, what real struggle and bravery and strength is.”

She couldn’t sit back anymore, keeping everything inside, pretending everything was okay.

Not today.

If anyone had seen him out there wandering around the castle grounds at night they would probably assume he was up to his usual dragon expedition. And if anyone had asked him what he was doing, he would probably claim that’s what he was up to. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to admit he was out there looking for her. Maybe because if he did then Penny or Rowan or one of their other friends would want to join him and if he found her he wanted to talk to her alone.

So while the rest of the gang scoured around the ever changing layout of the school, Charlie snuck outside. She may be inside, hiding out in her Dorm or an empty classroom, or maybe even at Hagrid’s or at the Quidditch Pitch. While those were all viable options, Charlie was one of the few who knew about her strong connection to water and how it helped calm her down and bring her peace, even if that meant her jumping fully clothed into the Black Lake and getting in trouble by her Head of House.

He paused when he noticed the figure sitting at the edge of the lake. He had almost completely missed her but upon getting closer realized that it was in fact her sitting there. A small smile formed on his face, perhaps a bit smug that he was the one to find her before anyone else. And he was glad that he found her before anyone else because now he could talk to her alone without Penny and Rowan’s constant questions while trying to outdo each other on support and concern in their suppressed ‘who was Keira’s best friend’ competition, and Barnaby and Tonks doing anything and everything to get her to laugh, their antics growing in ridiculousness and recklessness; and, alright he hated to admit it because he loved his older brother who was also his best friend, but without Bill swooping in with his older brother wisdom and comfort. Yes, Bill was the oldest but Charlie was an older brother too and cared just as much about his younger siblings and could provide older brother love and care too! And he cared just as much for Keira as Bill and the rest of their friends and would always be there for her just like he would be for any of his family.

As he started to make his way towards her, possibly going over what greeting to give when he approached her in his head, Charlie spotted another figure making their way down to Keira adjacent to him. Once he realized who it was as they addressed Keira he darted behind a nearby tree – he didn’t need to get detention or house points taken away, especially as a Prefect. Or get a scolding lecture by Bill. Plus, it would be rude to interrupt, right? Still, he didn’t want to leave Keira to get in trouble either. Maybe he could figure out some reason they were out there so late and save them both from punishment.

As Charlie tried to come up with an excuse as to why he and Keira would be out there in the middle of the night that would be accepted by the Curse-Breaker turned Professor the air suddenly changed. Everything suddenly got heavier, tense, colder, dark.

“You know what you’re problem is?” Charlie looked up as he heard Keira’s cutting tone towards their professor. He had never heard her speak like that before. And to a Professor nonetheless!

Charlie continued to stare in shock as Keira finally exploded after everything building up inside her through the day she tried so desperately to internalize spilled out. But this wasn’t like other times when Keira had unleashed her Irish temper on someone else, normally for bothering one of their friends or at Merula for her morbid jokes about Jacob being dead. This wasn’t like those times Rowan told them about where Keira needed to throw, hit, and break things to finally let out all her pent up anger and frustration. Those were fueled with fire, spoke with a blazing intensity, a raging fury that would cause adrenaline to course through veins and fill the air with this heated tension like a fight was about to break out. One of the reasons she was feared on the Quidditch Pitch.

But this – this was a different side of Keira, one he had never seen. It was dark and cold. Her words were still filled with passion but were made of ice and stung sharply. The heavy, biting cold change in the atmosphere differed wildly from its heated counterpart. It was more ominous, sinister, intimidating. It sent a chill down his spine. This darker side of Keira kind of terrified him. Her eyes were like piercing daggers as she stared down their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, standing her ground firmly. Even as she shouted and swore – oh Merlin she just swore at a professor – her words were still icy and full of disdain. While her Irish temper flared up a call to action, this chilling vibe was more apathetic, like she didn’t care what happened, what the consequences were.

But he knew, under that icy, stone cold exterior and beneath the vicious ire and stinging of her words, this darker side of Keira was hiding a lot of pain. And despite fearing her a bit, being a little intimidated – which he knew she would be flattered by – mostly, Charlie felt heartbroken for her, a wave of compassion where he just wanted to be there for her, support her and allow her to feel safe to let out everything she was holding in and then reassure her and make her smile. Surprising to him, he also felt protective over her. He wanted to do whatever he could to keep her from hurting.

He knew she was suffering a lot over her missing brother, but she was so good at appearing like everything was fine, sometimes they forgot everything she was going through. And then when it showed… it killed him to see her upset. He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if one of his siblings went missing and he had no idea where they were or if they were safe or even alive.

And seeing her upset like this, in a much different way than they had previously witnessed, and having no real knowledge of why she was so upset was agonizing. This was why Barnaby was practically in tears at dinner. If it wasn’t about her brother and the vaults, since she just snapped at Professor Rakepick about assuming it was about that – which was a fair assumption he thought! – then what was it about?

Her frosty and hostile outburst at Professor Rakepick unfortunately still did not give him a lot of clues as to what was really going on with her.

An eerie and tense silence fell once Keira finished. Charlie assumed Professor Rakepick had no idea how to respond to that since who could have predicted she would have gone off like that? And to her? Professor Trelawney would probably claim she could have but no one would believe her.

~*~*~*~*~

Much like Charlie assumed, Professor Rakepick stood there aghast at the student’s outburst. While she did her best to maintain a neutral face it was difficult to completely hide her shock.

“Um….E-excuse me?”

A meek voice interfered through the tense atmosphere causing both women to look towards where it came.

It was fortunate they were interrupted. Professor Rakepick had yet to fully process everything that was said, and how it was said, from this girl to her and therefore had yet to determine how to respond and handle the situation. Normally quick at problem solving and leaping into action, since while risking your life breaking curses one could not always afford the luxury of time to analyze a situation and think through all possible options before choosing one, this particular situation surprisingly had caught her off guard and threw her off enough that she did need a moment to step back and think about what action to take.

And for Keira, well, it delayed her from getting punished, she assumed, and took the attention off of her even if just for a moment. Even from the Gryffindor boy hiding nearby behind a tree, unknown to her and their professor, whose attention was also grabbed by the surprise appearance of another person.

Rowan stood there awkwardly, looking nervously between her best friend and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Both were unsure how long Rowan had been there, how much she had heard, but she looked pretty frightened and uncomfortable.

“S-sorry to interrupt,” Rowan started as both women turned their attention to her. She shifted uncomfortably under their intense gazes and avoided eye contact with either of them. “It’s um… we uh…” she stammered, fidgeting with her hands. “We have Astronomy class,” she finally managed to get out.

Professor Rakepick studied the intruder before looking back at Keira with a smirk. “Well, it looks like it’s your lucky day. You have a viable excuse to get out of this conversation.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” Keira replied in that same cold, sharp tone, turning her attention back to the red haired professor. “This wasn’t a conversation.”

Once again, Professor Rakepick wasn’t sure if she should be disrespected or impressed with how her student was speaking to her, challenging her.

“Really? Well Miss Black –“

“I have class.” Keira cut her off curtly as she waltzed right past the professor and over towards the still fearful looking Rowan. “Let’s go Rowan.”

Rowan glanced over as her roommate and best friend walked past her and continued to head back toward the school, flinching slightly at her dark tone, before looking back over at Professor Rakepick. She gave her a sheepish, apologetic smile before turning and hurrying to catch up with Keira, or at least get away from their Professor and tense atmosphere before Professor Rakepick turned her frustration on her.

Keira didn’t talk the entire way back to the school and up to the Astronomy Tower. She didn’t even complain about the stairs as she always did. Barnaby and Rowan shared concerned looks the entire walk to the Astronomy Tower and throughout class.

And while everyone looked through their telescopes and charted the stars on their charts, Keira just stood there looking up at the sky. Rowan and Barnaby glanced over worriedly at her as they worked on their class work.

“You can borrow my star chart if you need it,” Rowan offered quietly, a little nervous to experience that darker version of her friend again, especially directed at her.

Instead, however, a faint smile formed on Keira’s face as she continued to stare up at the sky. “Thanks, Rowan,” she answered softly. She clearly would need it since she wasn’t doing any work during class.

“You can borrow mine too if you want,” Barnaby offered. “I made my own constellation of a Kneazle,” he announced rather proudly.

“Very impressive, Barnaby,” Keira told him in the same soft tone as she continued to stare up at the sky. She would appreciate his constellation more later. Despite her lack of enthusiasm, Barnaby still grinned proudly at her praise.

Soon enough class was over with Keira not doing an ounce of work. “Come on, Keira. Let’s head back to the dorm,” Rowan said as she slid her mittens back on. The chilly weather alluded to winter right around the corner. “We can sit in front of the fire and get warm. I’ll make cocoa.”

“Ooo, cocoa,” Barnaby exclaimed excitedly.

“You guys go on ahead. I’ll be down later,” Keira told them, still standing in the same place and staring at the sky as she had been all through class.

“Are you sure? It’s getting pretty cold out here,” Rowan said, staring at her friend uneasily.

“I’m fine,” Keira assured. “Canadian, remember,” she added with a small smirk causing Rowan to visibly relax. There was her friend who she knew and loved.

“We can stay out here with you then,” Rowan said, glancing at Barnaby before she set her bag back down.

“No, thank you. I’d rather be alone,” Keira told them.

Rowan frowned slightly and shared another concerned look with Barnaby before hesitantly picking her bag back up. “Okay, well, if you’re sure. Don’t stay out here too long though,” Rowan gently warned her.  That glimmer of her friend being her normal self gave Rowan a sliver of hope that she was okay, or at least would be soon, and made her feel comfortable enough to leave Keira alone. Rowan motioned to Barnaby to follow her as she headed for the Astronomy Tower stairs.

A feeling of extra weight on her shoulders was the only thing that broke Keira from her trance on the sky. She looked over, surprised to see a smiling Barnaby who was laying his robes over her shoulders. “Two sets of robes should keep you warmer than one.”

Keira stared at him a moment before smiling back at him gratefully. “Thank you, Barnaby.” She was amazed she didn’t start crying right then and there. This whole time she had been fighting back tears and his sweet, thoughtful gesture almost caused her to break.

Barnaby smiled more and nodded at her before picking up his bag and hurrying after Rowan. “Don’t be too long or there won’t be any cocoa left!” It may have been something small but he was happy to see Keira smile and be able to make her feel better, even if just a little bit.

Keira watched her friends leave, a small appreciative smile on her face. However, as soon as the door shut behind them tears began to steam down her face. Finally alone and exhausted from her day of trying to hold everything in and keeping it together, and failing in emotional filled outbursts, Keira allowed herself to relinquish her emotions, crumbling to the cold, hard floor.

“It was really scary,” Rowan admitted as she finished telling Barnaby about the outburst she witnessed Keira have at Professor Rakepick.

“Wow… She’s not going to get expelled, is she,” Barnaby asked anxiously.

“I hope not. But I don’t think Professor Rakepick would do that,” Rowan assured after a brief moment of thought. “It was just…so weird seeing her like that. It wasn’t like her other breakdowns it was –“

“Darker?” Rowan and Barnaby paused outside their Common Room entrance as a familiar figure stepped out from their hiding spot – had to avoid Professor Snape!

“Yeah…What are you doing down here, Charlie” Rowan asked as she studied the Gryffindor suspiciously.

“Where’s Ady,” Charlie asked, getting straight to the point. His direct and serious attitude was very different than his usual calm and cheerful self.

“You’re a Seeker. Why don’t you find her yourself,” Rowan replied, folding her arms being the ever protective friend that she was.

“I just wanted to talk to her, make sure she was okay,” Charlie sighed. “I saw the outburst down at the lake at Professor Rakepick,” he admitted in a whisper causing Rowan’s eyes to widen.

“You did? How? Where? I didn’t see you –“

“I was behind a tree –“

“So you were spying?”

“No, I – look, that doesn’t matter. I just want to make sure she’s okay. So where is she?” Rowan continued to study the Gryffindor silently. She couldn’t help being protective over Keira. She was her first and, in a way, only friend. Sure, they had made this group but she was well aware the lynchpin that got them and held them all together was Keira. None of them would even acknowledge her existence if it wasn’t for Keira. Well, maybe Penny who befriended everyone, even the loners.

She knew she could be overprotective of Keira and become fearful of her connecting with and getting closer to others because she was afraid of losing her. So being the only close friend that was also her roommate allowed her to have a special connection with Keira by being there for her during her late night breakdowns and nightmares. And she didn’t want to lose her role as the comforting, supportive friend during those dark times. Because if someone else started doing that for her, then what would Keira need her for? That’s what Rowan feared anyway.

And while their gang liked to talk about the possible blossoming relationship between Charlie and Keira that they both seemed completely oblivious too, Rowan would be damned if she would allow a love-struck Weasley to take her place in Keira’s life!

“She’s still up on top of the Astronomy Tower,” Barnaby answered when Rowan seemed to refuse to.

“Barnaby,” Rowan scolded.

“Did she get hold up after class by Professor Sinistra,” Charlie asked, turning his attention to Barnaby who was proving to be much more helpful than Rowan!

“No. She said she wanted to be alone. Even turned down cocoa,” Barnaby informed him, earning him another glare from Rowan which he seemed oblivious to.

Charlie nodded his head as he listened to his fellow magical creature enthusiast before grinning at him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Barnaby.”

“Wait,” Rowan called as Charlie started to hurry down the hall, causing him to skid to a halt and look back at her quizzically. She paused a moment as she contemplated her next move before sighing and giving in. “Bring her some blankets. It’s cold.”

Charlie smiled softly at her as he hurried back over to them. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks.”

“I gave her my robes to help her keep warm,” Barnaby chimed in.

Charlie grinned at him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “That was very thoughtful of you, I’m sure they’re helping a lot.”

Once Rowan returned from the Slytherin Dorm with a couple blankets piled in her arms she handed them off to Charlie, albeit a bit reluctantly. “Don’t be up there too long.”

“Yeah, you guys have to come down and have cocoa with us,” Barnaby added with a grin which was the complete opposite vibe of Rowan’s warning.

“Cocoa sounds great. I’ll do my best,” Charlie told them, thanking Rowan again for the blanket before he hurried off to the Astronomy Tower.

“Ady,” Charlie called as he entered the top of the Astronomy Tower. His eyes scanned the area before he began walking around, trying to find his friend. “Ady, are you still up here?”

Keira had slid down the parapet that surrounded the tower collapsing onto the floor, Barnaby’s robes still wrapped around her. She sat on the ground, curled up into a ball, withdrawing into herself. Her knees were pulled up to her chest with her head buried in them, her hands tangled up in her hair as she clawed at her scalp, shoving her hair out of her face, as she quietly sobbed.

Charlie stopped and stared at the heartbreaking scene before him. His chest tightened as he tried to process seeing the normally so strong and put together Keira looking utterly hopeless and defenseless. Besides probably Rowan, none of them had ever seen Keira like this. Even when Rowan told them about Keira’s breakdowns he could never really envision it. She kept so much to herself. She never wanted them to see her like this. She didn’t want Rowan to either but it was hard to hide it from her.

For a moment Charlie thought about leaving her alone and giving her her privacy. However, when he saw her shiver from the increasingly frosty air he glanced down at the blankets in his arms before daring to walk over to her.

Keira’s head jolted up when she felt another weight on her shoulders. How did this keep happening? She glanced briefly at the blanket around her shoulders before looking up at the culprit, very surprised not to see Rowan or Barnaby.

“…Charlie,” she asked, as if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

“Hey,” Charlie greeted softly, with a small warm smile.

“Wh-what are you doing up here,” Keira asked as she quickly wiped away her tears still streaming down her face.

Charlie frowned slightly as he watched her. He didn’t mean to embarrass her. “Well, I heard you turned down cocoa to stay up here so I thought I should bring you some blankets to make sure you stay warm.” He tried to lightly joke about the cocoa, throwing her a reassuring smile but unfortunately that didn’t seem to make the situation much better.

“I’m fine. It’s not that cold,” she sniffled. “And I’d prefer chocolate right now over cocoa.”

“Right, right, I know, Canadian. Still,” Charlie said handing out the other blanket to her. “And I’ll remember chocolate for next time,” he added with another grin, another attempt to get her to smile, even a little one.

Keira eyed the blanket a moment before begrudgingly taking it from him. There, was he happy now?

Apparently he was since he smiled slightly as he watched her drape the blanket over her lap, doing her best to cocoon herself in the blanket layers around her.

“There. You gave me the blankets, I’m all toasty warm now, so you can go. Go and have cocoa with the rest of them,” Keira dismissed, waving a hand at him and the staircase door as she avoided eye contact with him.

“…What about you,” Charlie asked tenderly.

Keira froze up a moment at the unexpected gentle and caring tone of his voice. Why did he have to be so sweet? Made it hard to be cold and dismissive in an attempt to push her friends away when they were so caring!

“I’m fine. I want to be alone,” she informed him, hugging the blanket around her shoulders closer to her.

Charlie nodded his head and studied her a moment, contemplating his next move before slipping his bag off over his head and sitting on the ground next to her.

“What are you doing? I said I want to be alone,” Keira snapped.

“I know but I don’t think it’s good for you to be alone right now,” Charlie answered. Keira turned her head slightly to watch the Gryffindor closely as he made himself comfortable on the floor next to her, scooting under the blankets with her, draping them over his lap and shoulders as well.

She tried to think of something to say to argue his statement but she was having a hard time coming up with anything. Probably because he may be right.

Plus the fact that the second eldest Weasley radiated warmth like his favorite creatures was comforting in its own way in the chilly night air.

Once Charlie got himself situated under the blankets he smiled warmly over at her causing Keira to glance away. Sorry, Charlie, but she was not in the mood to be smiling and happy just yet so she had to get away from his infectious grin.

“I suppose you want to talk, know what’s going on with me,” Keira muttered as she wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging her knees closer to her, her right arm brushing against him since they had to be practically pressed together to both be completely covered under the blankets.

“Only if you need to. We don’t have to talk about it you don’t want to,” Charlie assured. “Don’t have to talk at all even.” Unlike some of their other friends, like Rowan who had such a thirst for knowledge, who would want to know, need to know, what was going on to make her so upset to comfort her, Charlie just wanted to make her feel better. Sure, he would like to know what was bothering her to better help, but he wanted to be a comforting and supportive figure at all times, for anything going on with her, even things she didn’t want to discuss. Or wasn’t ready to talk about yet.

So whenever she was upset about anything she knew she could always turn to him and he would be there and wouldn’t interrogate her with a million questions. He was simply there for her in any way she needed. If she needed to talk something out, or just vent and have someone listen, have someone lighten the mood and take her mind off of things, or even someone to just have near as they sat in silence with.

They sat in silence for a while, Charlie shifting to lean back against the parapet as he stared up at the night sky.

“You probably think I’m crazy,” Keira murmured after a moment, breaking the silence.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Charlie assured with a small chuckle.

“I keep storming out of rooms and I’m sure Barnaby told you guys what happened at Quidditch practice,” Keira said before a realization dawned on her. “And I’m sure Rowan told you about what happened before Astronomy Class,” she groaned, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

“Oh yeah, your outburst at Professor Rakepick,” Charlie murmured, remembering it himself.

“So she did tell you about it, great,” Keira grumbled.

“Well… not exactly. I mean, I think I overhead her talking to Barnaby about it but…” Charlie watched her a moment before sighing. He didn’t want to upset her more by telling her he saw her outburst at Professor Rakepick firsthand but he also didn’t want to lie to her or make her think her friends were sitting around talking about her negatively. “I sort of…saw it. I was… kind of there,” he admitted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What?” Keira’s head popped up off her knees before turning to face him, the first time all night she had directly looked at him that wasn’t some passing glance. Charlie was now the one avoiding eye contact as he continued to stare up at the sky trying to ignore her heated gaze on him. “What do you mean you were there? I didn’t see you!”

Oh great, déjà vu.

“I was behind a tree… I was looking for you to make sure you were okay and I found you the same time Professor Rakepick did, she was just closer. So I hid behind a tree and tried to figure out a reason why we were both outside so late so I could get us out of trouble. Before I had time to do that you sort of went off on her. I didn’t know you were going to do that!” Charlie quickly explained the situation from his point of view before she had a chance to start accusing him of being a creeper spy like Rowan did or thinking poorly of him.

“Oh my – putain de merde!” That set Keira off on another outburst but in French as she did some times when she was so overwhelmed or upset she couldn’t fathom it in English, so Charlie had no real idea what she was saying but she was flailing her hands a lot and appeared to be mortified so he could assume what she was going on about.

“Okay, okay, okay! It’s alright, I don’t think less of you or anything,” Charlie tried to reassure as he grabbed at her hands to stop them from flailing and grab her attention. He managed to finally capture her hands in his after a few failed attempts, stopping her frantic hand waving that accompanied her bi-lingual rant. He lowered their hands to their laps as she started to calm down and thankfully stopped her French rambling. His warm hands encompassing her naturally icy ones provided their own comfort and calming quality.

“It’s okay,” he said again gently, “I know you weren’t planning on having an audience or probably even planning on having that outburst – although, I must say it did sound pretty well thought out,” he complimented causing Keira to groan. Like she wasn’t embarrassed enough! “And, alright, I admit it was a little frightening, but-“ Keira let out another mortified groan and sunk her head lower, “But,” he reiterated, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze, “It was also… pretty impressive. I mean, badass. That’s what you’d like to be called, right? You stood up for what you believe. That’s what it sounded like anyway. And you stood up to Professor Rakepick which is not an easy thing to do. Well, easier than standing up to Professor Snape probably,” he laughed slightly.

“Listen, I know you’re having a hard day. We all know you’re having a hard day. And that’s okay. You don’t have to hold everything inside all the time. It’s not healthy. It’ll take a toll on you. And it’s going to find its way out in one way or another. And sometimes when you’re having a hard time you can’t help spreading that around, snapping at people… misery loves company, that’s what my mum says. And sure, you’re bound to be embarrassed by your behavior because it’s emotional and out of the norm, especially for you because, you know, you don’t really like being emotional. But we all have bad days and times when our emotions get the best of us, so we understand. I mean, you’re always there for us when we’re struggling and having a bad day and are understanding and don’t think any less of us, so why wouldn’t we do the same for you?”

Keira seemed to relax as she listened to Charlie’s reassuring words, letting them sink in as she processed them. Charlie watched her a moment before smiling encouragingly. “And, to be honest, I think she was kind of impressed with you going off on her like that. I don’t think you’re going to get in too much trouble. Maybe none at all.”

“So… you don’t think I’m crazy or irrational or whatever,” Keira asked quietly as she kept her gaze down.

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re having a hard, emotionally exhausting time and it finally burst out after you tried to hold it all in,” Charlie reassured, causing a small smile to form on Keira’s face even if only for a brief moment.

“Wow, you’re a great Prefect,” Keira told him before quickly adding after a beat, “And older brother.”

Charlie couldn’t help but beam at that compliment. “Thank you.” Take that, Bill!

“I don’t know how you and Rowan could ever look at me the same after witnessing that,” Keira admitted.

“We’re both worried about you. And, okay, maybe a little more scared of you than before but I thought you’d like that,” Charlie teased, surprised to hear a small laugh escape from Keira.

“You guys have to stop worrying about me so much,” Keira told him.

Charlie couldn’t help but scoff slightly. “Easier said than done. I care about you.” Keira looked up at him, appearing somewhat surprised by his honest and genuine declaration. Her grey eyes locking on his caused him to falter briefly. “W-we care about you. We’re you’re friends,” he added much more clumsily than his previous statement.

Keira’s eyes searched his face a moment before smiling softly. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have such amazing, caring people in my life.”

Charlie smiled back at her, giving her hands another squeeze before the sudden realization they were still holding hands dawned on both of them and a faint blush spread across both their faces.

“Uh, well, you know, we’re your friends,” Charlie said inelegantly as they both awkwardly took their hands away from each other. He cleared his throat before continuing. “We’re your friends. We care about you. And when you care about someone you’re always there for them no matter what.”

Keira nodded her head a couple times, agreeing with his statement, before her face started to scrunch up as she tried to hold back more tears but it was in vain. Charlie tensed up as tears once again ran down Keira’s face. Those were not happy tears! Oh crap, what did he do to make her start crying again? He thought they had gotten past this and she was smiling and laughing and feeling better!

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” Charlie panicked slightly as Keira buried her face in her hands. He didn’t know what he said or did to cause her to cry but he felt awful. He slid his arm underneath the blanket resting across their shoulders and hesitantly draped an arm around her shaking frame. He knew she wasn’t really comfortable with a lot of physical contact but in his family they were pretty tactile, physically affectionate and comforting people. Fortunately, she didn’t shrink away from him or seem to mind the physical act of comfort at all.

After a few moments Keira seemed to calm her breathing down enough to speak clearly. “No, you’re right. And I want to help, I just don’t know how,” she wept.

Charlie watched her attentively, trying to decipher what she was talking about. He felt it was safe to determine she wanted to help someone but didn’t know how to, but who she wanted to help and why she was struggling so much with what to do was a complete blank for him. Was it one of their friends? Was someone in their group having an issue they were all unaware of? Keira was normally the one everyone in their gang opened up to.

“Well, I’m sure we can figure something out –“ he tried to reassure before she cut him off.

“I can’t tell you.” Charlie nodded his head. Okay, he could understand if it was a private matter. But then how was he supposed to help her figure out how to help this person if he didn’t know what the problem was?

“It’s just not fair,” Keira continued. “Someone so giving and caring and good – a good person – should not have to suffer and struggle so much! And I just want to help but I can’t,” she sobbed as Charlie attempted to soothe her by rubbing her back.

“Why can’t you,” Charlie asked gently, hoping this was a safer question and route to go than what the actual problem was for whomever they were talking about.

“Because,” she shouted defensively before her shoulders slumped and she once again appeared broken and defeated, “I’m not capable enough to.”

Charlie was unable to hold back his cynical laugh but he did his best to stifle it, especially when Keira looked rather offended by it.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I just… You? Not being capable? Come on.” Keira continued to stare at him incredulously. “You have overcame every obstacle that’s stood in your way when facing these Cursed Vaults and finding your brother. You’ve learned every charm, potion, transfiguration, learned all you can about any and all subjects even remotely related to these Vaults, you’ve snuck into forbidden places, dueled and fought off powerful witches, wizards, and creatures – there’s nothing you can’t overcome. So pardon me for not believing you when you say you’re not capable enough.”

Keira studied him a moment silently before turning to look away, casting her gaze down once again. “There you go again with the reassuring, big brother/Prefect, speech,” she muttered.

“Ah, but I’m not your big brother or your Prefect,” Charlie replied, grinning at her compliment nonetheless and the fact that it had helped, even a little, since she was no longer a bawling mess.

“No, you’re not,” Keira agreed quietly. She suddenly felt a sharp pain in her chest as more tears welled up in her eyes. Oh, Merlin, she wished Jacob was here. She could talk to Jacob about this. He’d be the only one to really understand what she was feeling. She took in a deep, shaky breath as she shoved thoughts of Jacob aside. She could not handle missing her brother on top of everything else she was dealing with today. She was already overwhelmed enough, adding Jacob to the equation… it would be too much, overpowering; it would be disastrous. “And I appreciate you saying all that. But I think the only reason I’m able to do all that is because you guys all help me,” she admitted.

“I don’t know. You’re a pretty determined person. I think even without us helping you’d find a way,” Charlie disclosed to her, resting his arm around her shoulders once again, a bit more casually this time, causing Keira to scoff slightly.

“Determined? Or stubborn,” she asked with a small smirk.

Charlie smirked slightly himself before replying. “You’re strong and smart and brave – you’re highly capable. We’re just here to offer our support.”

“I could have never gotten into or through the Forbidden Forest without you,” Keira said, turning to look up at him once again. Her sincere confession had caught the Gryffindor off guard as he sat there sort of gawking at her. Hey, he was supposed to be the one reassuring her, not the other way around! But hearing that she needed him really touched him. A faint blush spread across his face and he swore he saw Keira smirk smugly to herself, if even for a brief second.

“And I could never brew potions as great as Penny,” Keira added, snapping Charlie out of his thoughts.

“Well no one can brew potions like Penny, not even Professor Snape,” Charlie declared. Keira nodded her head slightly before resting her chin on top of her knees, once again looking defeated and lost. Charlie watched her a moment with a frown before a thought dawned on him.

“Wait, is that what you need? A potion?” When Keira didn’t reply he continued. “Because if you need a potion you could ask Penny. She would do anything to help you and making a potion is clearly no problem for her. And you know it would be done right, so why don’t you just –“

“I can’t.” Keira cut him off once again with a cold remark.

“I’m sure she could make it no questions asked if you tell her you can’t disclose to her why you need it. She would understand. And it’s for you. She’d make you any potion you wanted even if you didn’t tell her why you needed it,” Charlie tried to reassure.

“It’s not that simple,” Keira informed him but that didn’t really tell Charlie much.

“Why not,” he asked innocently.

“Because it’s not! It’s more complicated than that and I can’t tell you why it is! And even if I did ask her to make me this potion I need without telling her explicitly who or what it’s for she would easily figure it out. So, no, I cannot ask Penny to make me the potion I need.” Charlie couldn’t help but flinch slightly at her harsh tone but he understood her frustration and knew it wasn’t personal.

“Okay… So why not try and make it yourself,” he suggested carefully.

“I can’t! I told you I’m not capable. It’s complicated and hard and I’ll probably make some deadly poison instead,” Keira groaned before placing her forehead against her knees as she buried her face once again in despair.

Charlie resumed rubbing her back as he thought of what to say. Since his attempts at reassuring her and providing helpful suggestions were not going over well, he thought he’d try his hand again at lightening the mood. “Maybe Professor Snape will help you,” he joked, causing a hollow laugh from the downtrodden Slytherin.

“I thought about trying to find some to buy from some shady dealer in Knockturn Alley or something but I wouldn’t feel comfortable trusting it,” Keira admitted as she sat back upright.

“I’m sorry I’m not very good at Potions,” Charlie admitted apologetically.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to be anyway,” Keira replied.

“Hey!” Now it was Charlie’s turn to be the offended one. His insulted cry caused the Slytherin to laugh as she apologized, and this time it actually sounded like a genuine laugh which encouraged him to continue. “You think the only thing I’m good for is trekking around the Forbidden Forest?”

“No. You also know a lot about Quidditch,” Keira retorted with a smirk before laughing more at Charlie’s exaggerated reaction.

“Oh so I’m good for two things! When you want to talk about Quidditch or hear about dragons Charlie is the one you need! Need a potion or skilled wizard don’t bother.”

“That’s not true,” Keira told him between laughs. “Andre is the one to go to to talk about Quidditch.”

“Ohhhh well excuse me,” Charlie cried out, causing Keira to laugh more. “So I’m just the one to go to when it’s about dragons or wandering around the Forbidden Forest? And I specify dragons because I know if I say magical creatures you’ll say you have Barnaby for that,” he accused, Keira nodding her head to confirm his suspicion. “Oh, okay, so I’m just the dragon specialist then?”

“Dragon Master,” Keira corrected.

“Dragon Mas- Dragon Master? Actually that’s a pretty cool title. Dragon Master.” Charlie stopped his overdramatic antics to mull over this new name while Keira’s laughter finally started to die down.

She really needed that.

Charlie looked over at her, once he decided that Dragon Master should be his official new nickname, and smiled to himself as he saw her finally smiling. Even if it didn’t completely reach her eyes, even if there was still this hopelessness lingering around her, he made her smile, got her to laugh, and gave her a little bit more happiness in this awful day she was having.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, grabbing her attention as she looked up at him curiously. “We’ll figure it out.” Keira smiled sadly up at him but there was a small glimmer of hope in her eyes. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before, much to his surprise, Keira shifted to lay her head on his shoulder.

“Did you want to see some drawings I did today instead of taking notes in class,” Charlie asked after a moment, reaching over to grab his bag with his free hand. He felt like he had his best luck that night at making her feel better by getting her mind off of whatever was bothering her.

“Are they of dragons,” Keira asked in a slight mocking tone.

“I wouldn’t be the Dragon Master if they weren’t,” Charlie retorted as he brought out his notes from today’s lessons and laid them on his lap. “This is a Hungarian Horntail,” he started, pointing to a dragon sketch on top of his Charms notes.

“Of course it is,” Keira muttered. He drew one of those every day, she swore, since it was his favorite.

“Yeah, yeah,” Charlie teased, moving on to the next page of notes. “These are a couple of ideas I had if you bred a Swedish Short-Snout with a Chinese Fireball.” Keira let out a small chuckle at the weird looking snout that could possibly be produced if these two breeds ever mated. Charlie smiled to himself as he heard her amused laugh. So far, so good.

He appreciated that he could talk to her for hours about dragons, his theories, show her his drawings like these of what crossbreeds may look like, and she never appeared bored or annoyed. In fact she would ask insightful questions about his theories, sometimes even add to them, ask about dragon blood uses, if there were ethical ways to attain dragon hide-made clothing or dragon horns which are used in many potions.

Charlie turned to his next page of notes before tensing up slightly. Oh no, these were his Defense Against the Dark Arts notes. That’s when her already bad day became unbearable. Maybe he could just casually set those aside and move on to another page…

“What’s that,” Keira asked, pointing to a drawing he had done on the bottom of his parchment.

Charlie hesitated before answering her. If this made her start crying again he might as well pack up and leave because clearly he wasn’t comforting her as well as he should be, or at least wanted to be. He didn’t want to keep making her feel reassured and laugh to then become a sobbing mess again! He had to break this cycle!

“That’s uh… Well, you know today’s lesson was on werewolves so naturally I thought what would happen if a werewolf bit a dragon,” he cautiously explained, watching her closely as she continued to stare at his dragon drawing. So far no crying…

“So, I present to you the weredragon,” Charlie said a bit proudly of his new creation. His illustration depicted a creature with a dragon body and tail but werewolf like claws and a werewolf head, fur trailing down its neck and tail and along the back of its legs as well as along its wings. Keira studied the image closely, silently, the expression on her face unreadable. He was not going to be able to handle it if she burst into tears again, especially because of him and his drawing he just had to show her.

“…What do you think,” he asked warily. He was stunned when a smile crept onto her face. He for sure thought this was going to lead to another emotional breakdown, one he would feel entirely responsible for and, therefore, horrible.

“I love it.” Well that certainly was not the reaction he was expecting! “I think it’s my favorite.” Charlie grinned to himself and relaxed as Keira stared at his drawing fondly.

“Yeah? Well then I’ll draw you your own and you can hang it up in your room,” Charlie told her.

“Only if you sign it,” Keira replied, glancing up at him briefly to throw him a small smile, earning a smile back from the Gryffindor.

“Okay, but it’s not going to be worth anything,” Charlie replied.

“It’s worth something to me,” Keira informed him.

Charlie grinned to himself as he felt warmth spread within him from his chest. He slid his Defense Against the Dark Arts notes onto her lap so she could continue to admire his illustration before continuing on with his next set of notes. “This is an Ukranian Ironbelly setting fire to a small village.”

“Wow, that’s a bit gruesome and dark for you,” Keira observed.

“I have to stay true to the dragons and their natural instincts. Besides, the people of this village probably try to steal its eggs and kill its kind so it’s just retaliating to defend itself and kin,” Charlie explained.

“Wow so there’s like a whole backstory to your drawings,” Keira teased. “Maybe you should write a book.” Charlie chuckled before attempting to further this tale he already began, even creating some actual characters with names and their own backstory, lightheartedly cultivating this imaginary book of his.

The two sat atop the Astronomy Tower, discussing dragons, other magical creatures, and wherever their conversation led them, exchanging ideas, balancing out their teasing with reassuring encouragement, accompanied with some laughter.

The image of the couple cuddled up under their layers of blankets as they deepened their bond through meaningful, pleasant, and enjoyable conversation was illuminated by the bright light radiating down from the full moon that hung ominously in the velvet night sky.

“That’s Algiz, that’s Teiwaz,” Keira explained as she motioned to the corresponding runes, causing the eldest Weasley to stare at his practice test she administered for him in confusion.

“How do you remember all this,” Bill asked as he continued to look over his answers, focusing on the wrong ones.

Keira shrugged. “I don’t know, just do. They’re used in alchemy and I love alchemy so maybe that’s why,” she suggested. Bill nodded his head, half listening to her before groaning, his head flopping back on to the couch. The two were sitting on the floor in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, leaning comfortably back against the couch. Keira had perfected the art of getting in and out of other Common Rooms, partially with Penny’s help who somehow learned how to get in and out of every House’s Common Room in her First Year – her popularity most likely aided in that. But Keira figured out her own way of getting into the Gryffindor Common Room all by herself Second Year, which she was pretty proud of. And who didn’t like being a little rebellious and being somewhere they shouldn’t be? Fortunately, no one really seemed to mind when she was in another House’s Dorm.

“I’m never going to get this,” Bill groaned hopelessly. “How am I supposed to remember everything from the past seven year plus everything they’re going to teach us this year for the N.E.W.T.s,” he cried out in despair.

“Don’t worry, you’ll pass them all with Outstanding’s…. Well at least Exceeds Expectations,” Keira attempted to reassure, and maybe also tease a little.

“But I need O’s to become a Curse-Breaker,” Bill exclaimed. She had never seen the Gryffindor so stressed out before and it was honestly scary.

“How about we take a break –“ she began to suggest calmly which unfortunately caused Bill to erupt in another frantic, stressful shriek.

“There’s no time for breaks!” Keira stared at him with wide, fearful eyes.

“Okay… then, how about you keep studying and I’ll go get us some study snacks and make us some tea or cocoa…. Or maybe something stronger,” she muttered as she carefully stood up and took a couple steps away from the hysterical, anxious mess that was formerly William Weasley. How could she forget study snacks, they were an essential part to the studying process!

Bill continued to pour over his many textbooks and parchment piles of notes, mumbling incoherently, probably reading out loud to himself in an attempt to help him better remember. Seeing him like this was really causing Keira to consider leaving after Sixth year so she wouldn’t have to suffer through this same, sad fate.

As she contemplated her future the arrival of another redhead caught her attention. “Charlie!” Eagerly calling out his name like that was a little embarrassing but she managed to brush it off as she reached into her bag and pulled out a small box tied up with a ribbon before hurrying over to him.

Charlie paused when he heard his name called upon entering the Gryffindor Common Room after Quidditch practice. He had planned on going straight upstairs to take a shower but someone sounded like they needed to speak with him right away. He was quite surprised to see the Slytherin bounding toward him. No matter how many times he saw her in their Common Room he was always surprised. How did she always manage to get in there? Not that he was complaining!

“Hey,” he greeted with his classic, infectious smile, running a hand through his hair possibly trying to tame it from its sweaty mess thanks to his Quidditch practice. Oh great, he probably smelled awful…

It had been a little over a week since he found her crying on top of the Astronomy Tower and since then things had felt a little awkward between them considering he found her sobbing on top of the Astronomy Tower. Keira wasn’t one to normally show her emotions or be so vulnerable in front of anyone, so he was sure she felt a little embarrassed about that and he didn’t want to make her feel judged in any way or like their relationship had changed; although, clearly it had changed, but not in a negative way! He didn’t want to make her feel awkward in any sort of way so he had been keeping a slight distance between them, thinking she may want some space from him after sharing such a vulnerable moment with him. They hadn’t really spoken or spent time alone since then.

Although when they had their next Defense Against the Dark Arts class he did try to give her a little pep talk, accompanied with a brief pumping up shoulder massage like one gave boxers, before they entered the classroom with Barnaby and the rest of their friends who shared that class with them, and continued to give her reassuring looks throughout the class.

Also, as promised, he drew her her own personal weredragon picture which he slid over to her the other day while their gang was having another study session in the library. Keira looked thrilled to receive it and he was pretty positive she wanted to give him a hug. She did slide it back over to him to have him sign it, although he still didn’t understand why she would want that, before she took it and hung it up by her bed in her Dorm. He was a little nervous when he gave her that picture, it could bring back memories of that night which weren’t exactly the happiest, but then, yesterday when she passed him a note in Charms asking what would an Antipodean Opaleye and a Hebridean Black crossbreed look like he felt reassured that things were well between them.

Despite those moments, they still had not spent any time one-on-one, their friends always around them when they interacted the past week and a half. Until now, it seemed.

“Hey,” Keira greeted with a grin as she stopped in front of him. “Have a nice practice?”

“Yeah, it was… tiring,” Charlie admitted, sounding a bit out of breath actually. “What are you doing in here,” he asked curiously before he was unable to resist teasing her, a charming smirk playing on his lips. “Wait, don’t tell me you were waiting for me? Miss me?”

Keira rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smirking slightly herself. “No. I’m here helping your brother study for his N.E.W.T.s – Ancient Runes,” she informed him, motioning to his disaster of an older brother behind her.

“My mind’s been Obliviated,” Bill groaned.

Charlie glanced over her shoulder before wincing slightly. “I’ve never seen him so stressed before.”

“Yeah, me neither. But once he gets through his exams and finds out he passed them all and is able to become a Curse-Breaker he’ll be back to his chill, cool self,” Keira reassured before handing him the small wrapped box excitedly. “Here.”

Charlie looked down at the apparent gift for him. “What? What’s this,” he asked curiously as he hesitantly took the box from her.

“It’s a thank you slash early birthday present,” Keira told him, unable to keep herself from grinning.

Charlie studied the box a moment before frowning slightly. “You don’t have to get me anything.” Of all the Weasley’s she had encountered, Charlie was the worst one at accepting gifts. She was well aware, as were most people, they were not the wealthiest family but she wasn’t trying to give them any sort of handouts out of pity. She didn’t think a birthday or Christmas gift was out of line, or a thank you for being there for me when I needed you gift.

“But I wanted to,” Keira informed him matter-of-factly, so don’t argue with her! “Besides, everyone should get something for their birthday.”

“But it’s not my birthday yet –“

“I said it was an early birthday present,” Keira corrected him. “Slash, thank you gift. Just open it,” she urged excitedly.

Charlie huffed slightly, not nearly as excited as she was, before untying the ribbon around the box. “Alright, alright.” His grumbling came to a halt when his eyes saw what lay in the box.

His gift was a small bronze statuette of a dragon. Although it had no real discernible features if he had to wager a guess it was probably a Hebridean Black since it had four legs and wings, instead of its wings making up its front claws as well, and had an arrow-shaped spike at the end of its tail. Whether she bought this because it resembled her favorite dragon or for some other reason, like it being the only kind they had, he had no idea, but since it resembled her favorite dragon on top of her gifting it to him he would definitely always think of her when he looked at it.

He stammered slightly as he took the tiny dragon figurine out of its box for a closer look, trying to find the words to thank her but he was also mesmerized by this unexpected present. Keira looked a bit smug, but mainly overjoyed, as she watched Charlie’s eyes lit up.

“But wait, there’s more,” Keira announced excitedly, causing Charlie to look at her quizzically before glaring at her slightly as she took the statuette out of his hand. Hey, that was his! She walked over to one of the tables in the Gryffindor Common Room and set his dragon figurine on it, Charlie close behind – she took his dragon!

“What? Does it do something,” Charlie asked curiously as he studied it closely. “Ooo, does it breathe fire,” he asked excitedly. Finally he was getting enthusiastic over receiving a present!

“Not yet,” Keira replied with a smirk as she took out her wand. “As you may or may not know, Professor McGonagall has been giving me some private lessons in Transfigurations.” She cleared her throat before pointing her wand at the dragon statuette. “Draconifors.” With a slash of her wand a fiery red light emerged and illuminated his figurine. When it dissipated his dragon had appeared to come to life!

Charlie’s eyes widened the size of bludgers before he let out some inhuman noise of pure elation. “It’s a dragon!” Keira laughed slightly as his overjoyed reaction, moving her wand slightly to cause his now living dragon figurine to walk along the table. Charlie crouched down to be eye level with his little dragon, watching it in fascination. He was like a kid in Honeydukes. Keira smirked more before, with a flick of her wrist, the dragon leapt onto Charlie’s head. He let out another excited squeal, for lack of a better word, as he slowly stood up, his eyes rolling as far as they could, attempting to look at the dragon on top of his head.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he informed her as he carefully reached up to grab the dragon from his head and gently held it in his hand.

“I’m very happy to hear that. But it’s not a real dragon, unfortunately. I mean, it kind of is, but not really,” Keira tried to explain. “I asked Professor McGonagall to teach me the Draconifors Spell after reading about it in one of the additional readings she suggested to me. It’s supposed to be able to transform small objects into dragons that you can control. They’re obviously a lot smaller and less powerful than a real dragon but they’re still really cool. And cute.”

Charlie stroked the tiny dragon in his palm with one finger from his free hand. “It is cute,” he agreed, sounding like he was only half listening. Keira wasn’t going to take offense to him ignoring her at the moment.

“You know, if you’re good I’ll teach you the spell and you can turn this little guy, or any small object, into a dragon whenever you want,” Keira offered.

That seemed to grab Charlie’s attention as his head snapped up to look at her. “Yeah? Really?”

“Well, if you’re good and don’t piss me off,” Keira reiterated.

“I drew you a personalized, signed, picture,” Charlie argued.

“So? Barnaby draws me a magical creature picture every day,” Keira informed him. So he would have to do better!

“How about, if Gryffindor beats Slytherin in the next Quidditch match you have to teach me,” Charlie wagered causing Keira to scoff.

“I am not going to be able to handle you crying after you lose,” Keira retorted.

“I would not cry! …. Need I remind you I helped you get through the Forbidden Forest to find the Cursed-Vault in there,” Charlie replied with a smirk.

“Need I remind you how I helped you gather up enough money to get a dragon egg from some shady dealer which turned out to be an Acromantula egg,” Keira debated, placing her hands on her hips. She was pretty sure she won that round.

Charlie and Keira glared playfully at each other before something out of the corner of the Seeker’s eye caught his attention. “Uh, Ady, I think your study buddy is having a nervous breakdown.”

Keira frowned quizzically before turning around to see Bill agitatedly running his fingers through his hair and pulling at it. Oh, Merlin, he was literally about to pull his hair out.

“William, no! Your hair is your best feature. You’ll never be able to get a date without it,” Keira cried as she hurried over to eldest Weasley and grabbed onto his wrists. Charlie chuckled slightly as he watched them before turning his attention back to his new little dragon. Hmm, what should he name it…

“Charles!” Charlie’s head snapped up when he heard his name, and not his friendlier nickname, called. “Help me with your brother,” Keira demanded as she tried to wrestle Bill’s hands away from his head.

Charlie glanced down at the tiny dragon in his hand. “Come on little guy, let’s go show you to Bill. That should take his mind off his exams.”

~*~*~*~

“Ooo chocolate cake,” Keira gasped excitedly as she grabbed a slice of the leftover dessert from dinner. It was another late night hang out in the kitchens of Hogwarts for the Cursed-Vaults Gang…Crew… they had yet to decide on a name.

“Could you grab me some too, please,” Penny asked politely as she gathered drinks for everyone.

Keira cut another slice of cake for the Hufflepuff and set it on a plate before licking off some remnants of chocolate icing off her fingers. “So…” Keira glanced over as she was joined by the Gryffindor Seeker who swooped in and leaned casually back against the stone wall next to her. “Looks like things are good now between you and Penny.”

“Were we fighting,” Keira asked curiously.

“Well, not exactly, but you can’t deny there was some tension between you two for a while there. I mean, she did cause you to storm out of the library that one time,” Charlie reminded her.

Keira glanced back at the blonde Hufflepuff as she handed out everyone’s drinks to them. “Yeah, well, we’re good now,” she told him with a small smile. “Actually… there was sort of a… crucial situation that kind of made us address the issue. And I think it was really good, for both of us. She got to face and work through some things and I got her to teach me how to brew that potion I needed so I’d call it a win-win,” she confided in him.

“Yeah? That’s great,” Charlie exclaimed with a grin. “See, I told you we’d figure it out.”

Keira frowned slightly and paused. “Wait, what did you do, exactly?”

“I provided emotional support?” Keira fought back a smile as she looked up at the cheesy grin of the Gryffindor.

“That may be true but that didn’t necessarily help resolve the issue,” Keira pointed out.

“The point is it’s figured out so all is well. See, no point in all that blubbering,” Charlie teased earning himself a playful – well, partially playful, partially anger fueled – smack from the Slytherin. “Ow!” Charlie rubbed his chest where she hit him, trying to appear emotionally hurt but he couldn’t keep from smiling. He was glad they were at the point where they could talk and joke about it now and it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable anymore.

“Oh, you’re fine. You get hit by bludgers all the time,” Keira retorted as she picked up the two plates of chocolate cake.

“I think you stopped my heart for a second there,” Charlie teased causing Keira to roll her eyes as she smirked to herself.

“Maybe that’ll teach you to be nicer to me,” Keira replied a bit smugly as she turned to bring Penny her piece of cake.

“Maybe…” Charlie started before a smirk spread across his face and he quickly snatched a plate of chocolate cake out of her hand – this was not the Golden Snitch! “Or maybe I like a challenge,” he cried in typical Gryffindor fashion, before hurrying away from her and to the safety of their friend group.

“Charles!”

~*~*~*~

Connerie – Bullshit

Putain de merde – Fucking shit

Needed Information on my MC: Nereida Keira-Adelyn Black, goes by her middle names, Charlie likes to call her Ady; born in Ireland, grew up in Canada; part undine; 

Remus Lupin is legal guardian/godfather, although not feeling he was the best fit to take care of Jacob and Keira (financially or for health reasons) after their mother passed they were raised by close friends of their mom in Canada. When they decided to attend Hogwarts instead of staying in Canada for school to connect with their Irish and English heritage, Remus, being the only person they knew, and really family they had, when they arrived in the UK for school, did his best to watch over them and take care of them since he couldn’t leave them to fend for themselves in a new country all alone. Fortunately, they were very independent and when he took the necessary precautions during the full moon he didn’t have to worry so much about them managing on their own. He didn’t feel comfortable staying at their home without them their so he really only lived with them (and had a good place to live/stay) during holidays and the summers, assuming the moon phase allowed. He also, of course, refused to accept any money or gifts from them although Keira demanded he should get a birthday and Christmas present at least and promised not to be too extravagant (but it’s not fair he has to live in poverty, he can stay at their home! He’s family!)

He and Keira clearly got very close since Jacob went missing and he proved to be probably the best at helping them with their watermarks and other undine characteristics. He tried to keep the fact that he was a werewolf from them as long as possible, not wanting to scare them or cause them any worry especially when they were so young but it wasn’t too difficult for them to figure out (he always left around the full moon every month and his nickname was Moony – come on! Keeping with tradition =p Keira found out Remus was a werewolf during her Third Year) and it ended up being a sort of bonding moment considering they were not completely human either and he knew what undergoing a painful transformation was like. (Being around Keira and Jacob who reminded him so much of Sirius and James also may have helped Remus feel less alone.) Keira is fiercely protective over Remus. They also like to send each other packages of chocolate every month – Remus may not be able to afford much be he somehow always manages to find enough money to send her a little bit of chocolate.

(One of these days I will make a post for my MC’s bio… Hope I explained her relationship to Remus well enough. I really need to make some posts just about my MC, even if no one cares and it’s just for me. Also I don’t care if people hate me trying to have my character connected to the Marauders, we all love Remus and he deserves love and happiness! Like we all don’t want to be connected to them anyway…)

A/N: I’ve been having a lot of Remus Lupin feelings lately. I’ve even started making a Remus Lupin, and a Remus x Tonks playlist… Idk… I have had some other ideas about Remus I might write although they, one in particular, would go against canon but… does that really matter? =p But there is definitely one involving Remus I really want to write so it’s going to happen, probably next! It’s almost like a werewolf trilogy thing I’m starting to create! <.< 

Hello, I’m incapable of writing a short fic. =p Can’t even write a brief authors note… I have a lot of thoughts!

I know we all, particularly me, enjoy pointing out how great an older brother Bill is but Charlie is also an amazing older brother – reassuring, nonjudgmental, willing to smuggle a dragon out of Hogwarts for you, no questions asked. The Weasley’s have such great, chill, older brothers – Love this family! I also believe the Weasley family is a more affectionate family, physically and verbally; growing up with so many people, and in tighter living quarters, you also had to get used to touching someone else while just trying to eat at the table =p

Also, in case there are any questions or those who believe I’m contributing to the erasure of Charlie’s sexuality, I assure you that is not true. Being on the ace-spectrum myself (as is my MC) I am doing my best to convey him on the ace-spectrum as well. Also, just because someone is ace/aro doesn’t mean they are unable to care about others and forge meaningful relationships.

What’s the deal with me and the Astronomy Tower/Class – no idea =p I also believe the reason Professor McGonagall has not taught us the Draconifors spell is because she knows Charlie will use it all the time on everything!

Was the first Chaser who wanted more… aggressive tactics Marcus Flint? Perhaps… Did I go through the House Point leaderboard on the game and make a Slytherin Quidditch team? …Yes =p (If you’re interested let me know and I’ll post it. And if you want your MC on the team can do [I’m Captain of this ship!] – unless you want to be a Beater in which case have to be reserve, sorry, Barnaby and my MC are Beater Buddies!)

So here’s the deal – I began writing this before the Werewolf event in the game happened and I was already starting on the ending scene when the event came out so please excuse any discrepancies. I did add in a couple references to it and although clearly it would be out of order since the Werewolf event clearly happened around Halloween and this I had set late November (okay, full disclosure, I looked up the moon phases for that year and November 23 would be a full moon which I thought was perfect since I wanted it to be cold and it was close to Charlie’s birthday) BUT in my defense I started writing this first before the event came out so therefore it happens first! =p And then… idk, Time Warp =p Maybe Fenrir attacked around the Christmas feast instead of the Halloween one? The event did help me figure out how MC got Penny to teach her how to brew Wolfsbane potion which also provides a two-part epilogue! This could also work with Chiara I think too assuming Penny hadn’t met her yet so you can imagine that if it works out better for you but this was for Remus!

You’re all welcome I resisted adding a “Not Today Satan, Not Today” gif in this because the urge was real! …I still might

Other Hogwarts Mystery Fics:

Under the Stars - Fluff at the End of the Year Ball with Charlie

I know it’s not very fluffy or a follow up to Under the Stars so if you want to remove your tag or need me to do it let me know;I hope that was all I was supposed to tag! If you want to be added to the tag list let me know =) Or if you just want to discuss HPHM things or ideas hmu! 

@sungoddessra @sly-vixen-up2nogood @bexeris @tatlikar @cinnamoncam 

[castellankurze]

Maybe I just expected too much.

(spoilers below)

In 2012, ‘Fear to Tread’ by James Swallow was the last Black Library book for which I put down actual money.  I’d been slowly growing less and less interested in 40k, a change that I felt was driven largely by the Horus Heresy series.  FTT was a good enough book that I decided to make it my final purchase, but I was still a fan of the 40k setting, if not the tales BL was choosing to tell there, and I kept an eye out for books that might rekindle my interest.

One that was recommended to me several times over in the following years was ‘The Death of Antagonis’ a novel in the Space Marines series following the exploits of the Black Dragons, members of the 26th ‘Cursed Founding’ of space marines.  Partially this was due to what was reputed to be a badass character from the Sisters of Battle, partially down to the character of the dragons themselves.  But by the time I’d heard of it, it was off the shelves of my local bookstores and I’d either have to get the ebook version (which is useless to me, since I can’t use one on the job) or pay extra shipping, and since the book was already pricier than the 7.99 I was used to paying for the old BL paperpbacks, I wasn’t curious enough to pay even more to see if this was the book that would break my funk.

So it was that years passed and, as if by happenstance or a turn of fate, I happened to spy ‘The Death of Antagonis’ on the shelves of the Strand bookstore in New York City while on my honeymoon.  I grabbed it.

‘The Death of Antagonis’ (henceforth DOA) is a novel taking a peek into the lives of the decidedly nonstandard space marines of the Black Dragons chapter, a group of Wolverines who, as part of their genetic enhancement when becoming space marines, sport bone growths from their skeleton which they coat in adamantium to use as deadly close-combat weapons, a practice which garners them suspicious eyes from many branches of the fanatically pure Imperium of Man.

DOA starts off strong, and I mean really strong, as the Black Dragons engage in a desperate holding action against an undead horde on the ill-fated planet Antagonis.  Even as they do so, Inqusitor Werner Lettinger of the Ordo Malleus investigates them for possible Chaos corruption, while the mysterious Canoness-Errant Sethano joins them for unspoken purposes of her own.

For the first half of the book, the Black Dragons themselves are basically everything I could want from a story about space marines, alternating between genuine purehearted too-good-for-this-world sincerity in their declarations of faith and the protection of mankind, to deadpan snarky-ass motherfuckers who see right through Inquisitor Werner’s pretext for his investigations.

Canoness Setheno is a badass, and it’s easy to see why she was one of the selling points of the book.  Her name is taken from Greek mythology as one of Medusa’s sisters, and true to form of 40k poking its tongue into its cheek so hard it goes right through the flesh to waggle it at you, her title is the Gorgon.  While her character can be summed up as ‘do what needs to be done’ her particular brand of flair makes DOA far more memorable than it would have been without her.

Inquisitor Lettinger is something interesting.  Many 40k books like to make a character like the Inquisitor the dedicated bonehead, the asshole who shows up to ruin everything.  Werner is however, at least for the first half of the book, a bit more nuanced than that.  He’s genuinely fascinated by the Black Dragons, and while he showed up fully intending to prove their corruption, his actual exposure to the chapter has him question whether they’re really unsalvageable.  It’s a nice but of depth to an old plot.

Even the Chaos marines in the book are a fun twisting of the old narrative.  Rather than veterans of the Horus Heresy, they’re the devious results of a renegade pastor who once took part in the creation of the Excorcists marine chapter and the demon-summoning rituals therein, armoring the so-called Blades of Epiphany in gold (get it? the traitors wear shiny gold and the loyalists are mutants who wear black).

The plot itself rapidly moves past the doomed-world scenario into a deeper look at the Black Dragons themselves - almost as if David Annandale was told he had to write a book about a world dying and so shoved that out of the way ASAP so he could do more interesting stuff.  Namely, thrust of the plot of DOA is that the Black Dragons are about to have themselves a little family squabble.

The Dragons worship their deformities as a curse from the Emperor, paradoxically shaping them for their purpose as weapons and defenders of humanity.  They even hold up the most prized examples as members of special kill-teams known as Dragon Claws.  The problem is...what happens to those members of the chapter who then don’t exhibit those same deformities?  Are they left by the wayside?  Maybe somewhere along the way, they might get a bit resentful.

I’ll spare the blow-by-blow, but the first half of the book really sets up a fascinating narrative where everyone in the Imperial caste of characters is really, genuinely trying to do the right thing.  You could probably even write an actual thesis statement on the theme of toxic masculinity and how it applies to the Black Dragons, and how their instinctive fascination with their own body ideals inadvertently radicalizes young men who cannot live up to the chapter’s unspoken standard.

Unfortunately, then the second half of the book happens.

I don’t know what went wrong, exactly.  Maybe David Annandale got editorialized.  Maybe a deadline was looming and the book just had to be finished, damn the consequences.  Or maybe, like I said above, maybe I just got my expectations up too high.  Maybe I was too hype from reading my first 40k novel in so long and finding out a lot of it was playing to my prejudices to keep my feet on the ground.

Whatever the case, the second half of DOA feels like a massive step down as the Chaos plot takes ascendance and what really felt like something unique - a genuine difference of politics and  desires to best serve mankind - instead falls down into a far more standard issue ‘Chaos corruption blargalarg’ plotline.  The climax feels like it cribbed ideas from other 40k works like the World Engine and the Eisenhorn series, but it feels too rushed and unfocused to really do anything truly unique with them.  The Black Dragons are exhorted to embrace their role as the Emperor’s killing blades and it just feels too hasty, too cheap, a simple solution to a complex problem, with Chaos used as the kludge to explain the wedge driven into their ranks.

In the end, I still think this is the book that made me fall in love with the Black Dragons, because there’s too much Grade-A dialogue, especially in the first half of the book, for me to write it off completely, but ultimately I think it serves as a reminder, many years later, of why I parted ways from the Black Library take on the 40k universe.  It’s a 7 of 10 that really feels like it could have been a 10 of 10 if it had dropped the very by-the-numbers Chaos plot entirely and focused on the very natural tension in Black Dragons’ own ranks.

[sweetescape01748]

Mimi’s Home Bakery

Kate O’Connor| Review | April 1, 2021

Whether it's cookies, pies, cakes, cupcakes, muffins, brownies...you name it- Mimi can make it. While in the kitchen with Mary Daniels Nahley Jones, or “Mimi”, you would never guess that this lean, energetic, eighty-four year old home baker, has zero professional culinary training. Mimi’s kitchen is not large by any measure, but it has a warm and cozy feel, with its own unique scent of freshly baked cookies whisked from the oven. Whenever we baked with Mimi there seemed to be flour, and mixing bowls all over the counter. However, the ingredients always seemed to be organized in perfect order. Her pantry is also stocked with at least three packages of King Arthur's flour, two large cans of Crisco, several canisters of White Granulated Sugar, and bags of Ghirardelli Chocolate Chips. Also, her refrigerator always holds a jug of homemade, Sweet Tea. However, no visit to Mimi’s kitchen is complete without squirting some of her homemade Simple Syrup in a glass of her Sweet Tea while indulging in her famous brownies. Mimi currently lives in Southport, North Carolina, which has been home to her for more than twenty years. 

Mimi raised three children in Danbury, Connecticut (in order of birth); Sue, Jeffrey, and Ann who now have children of their own. While her children were growing up, Mimi carried on her mother’s tradition of always having freshly baked desserts in the kitchen for the house to munch on. From a young age, Mimi was inspired by her own mother’s baking, and wanted to “follow in her footsteps''. She is now an active grandmother, and according to her grandchildren, the best baker they know. When she’s not baking, Mimi is either golfing, playing tennis, swimming, selling handcrafted baby knick-knacks to a local store, doing yoga, volunteering at church, or simply watching Netflix. However, Mimi’s passion for baking didn’t evolve until she started a family, and needed recipes to make for her household.

(Mimi on Thanksgiving Eve in  2011, holding one of her daughter’s favorites, Banana Cream Pie)

Tell me a little bit about yourself and how you got into baking? 

I grew up in Pawling, New York which is about 65 miles north of New York City.  I lived with my mom, dad, brother, and grandparents. We went to live with my grandparents, because my grandfather was very ill at one point and needed people to take care of him. So I always lived at my grandmother’s house. My mother always had something freshly baked, practically everyday. She was the one who inspired me. She was a wonderful pie maker, a wonderful cake maker, cookies, muffins...You name it. She could do it. My mother’s name was Helen Green Daniels and she was a teacher. She taught elementary school, got married, and of course women back then didn’t work after they got married because nobody would hire them and therefore she always had something whipped up in the evening. My grandmother was such a wonderful baker, and she inspired me as a grown-up to follow in her footsteps. I didn’t grow up with a culinary background, and I didn’t do a lot of baking when I was little, but I certainly watched my mother bake a lot of stuff. When I got married the first time, I certainly wanted recipes, so I got into it more after I got married. And now I try to bake at least once a week. I try to switch up what I make...Every night, I need to have a cupcake, a brownie, a cookie, or something around 8 o’clock at night, which is probably the worst time in the world to eat. 

What was a household favorite dessert that you can recall baking, that your kids loved?

I think my brownies, Chocolate Chip Cookies, and Christmas Cookies were a house favorite. I still make chocolate chip cookies, and I still make brownies, but now, since I’m retired, don’t tell anyone..I use a box. But sometimes I’ll make them from scratch. But I think every one of my kids loved my brownies...The kids also used to like my Whopper cookies. Remember the Whoppers? They’re the cookies where you have to smash the Whopper milk balls.

What is one of YOUR favorite go-to treats to whip up at home? Or for the holidays?

Well, I think for the holidays, Banana Cream pie, Pumpkin pie, pecan pie, cookies, and dessert sauces. I have to keep them [dessert sauces] in the refrigerator at all times. Those include a hot fudge sauce, and a butterscotch sauce. Isn’t that awful?

 What are some skills or tricks that you have learned throughout your at-home baking career?

Definitely get all ingredients together before you start the baking process...Then you always have what you need. I think my favorite part about baking is actually putting all the ingredients together and then of course, the results. I love getting everything together, getting it all measured out, and enjoying the finished product. 

 Out of the wide variety of baked goods, what would you classify as being the most fun to make? And why?

Well I’ll tell you, this is the complete opposite. It’s the Frosty Toffee Bits Pie. It is so fast and easy to make, and people love it. You buy a 9 inch graham cracker crust, then you take a package of cream cheese, sugar, half & half, frozen whipped topping like Cool Whip, and then a package of Toffee bits. I’m telling you Kate, it is absolutely delicious..bad for you, but delicious! I bumped into a couple whom I haven’t seen in awhile, and they go “oh we have that pie under your name in our recipe file. We just got it out and just made it”. 

What has been one of the hardest things you have ever had to bake and why?

I would not have been able to tell you a month ago, but a month ago, I found a recipe for a German Chocolate Cake. A three layered, German Chocolate Cake. Well I’ll tell you, it probably took over three hours to put the damn thing together. Pardon my french. And then the frosting contains coconut..and it’s absolutely delicious! It takes forever to put it together...and it just takes forever because you have to melt the chocolate bar, you have to make half a cup of strong brewed hot coffee, and then aside from the flour, the baking powder, and the sugar, you have to separate the eggs, and then bake it for about twenty eight minutes. But then you have to make the frosting, which requires six egg yolks, two cups of coconut, and then the two cups of pecans are optional. It’s a delicious cake but I think it must have taken almost three hours to put together. It wasn’t even made for a special occasion, just because I wanted to. I found the recipe in Southern Living Magazine and thought, “ooo I gotta make that”. Of course it took forever but when it was done, boy was it spectacular!

Every baker has a weakness, in your opinion, what would you say is your greatest weakness?

I don’t make pies quite as often as I used to, but my one weakness is making a pie crust. It drives me crazy because you have to roll it out, and make sure it’s round..they’re just so much work. Anyways, I don’t make a whole lot of pies anymore. However, per request, I do them for the holidays. 

What are some of your secret go-to ingredients to use as a substitute in a particular recipe?

I don't have any. Usually, if I get a recipe out, I’ve saved it because I like everything in it. If I’m going to use a recipe, you want to follow it pretty closely. Especially when baking, you need to comply with what the recipe tells you. I figure, they know what they’re doing.

Being such a talented baker, have you ever been tempted to open up a bakery or cafe of your own? (why or why not)

No it’s too much work!! I enjoy other things in addition to baking!!

How would you describe a typical day in your life today?

Three days a week, I start my day with Yoga for an hour, I love it.We all wear masks and it’s a great social event.  Then, I do a lot of sewing and knitting because there’s a little shop downtown in Southport where we live, and I sell my stuff there. So I sell my puppets, sweaters for children, blankets, bibs, and mainly things for babies. I have to work inside the shop at least once a month for a whole day. And then I eat out a lot, I attend church a few days a week because I’m on a few committees, so that’s pretty much my life now….*chuckling* 

Which would you say you prefer more, cooking or baking? 

Baking- I think. People love homemade desserts and breads, usually more than their meal. It ends the course the way you want it to end. I think people love desserts. Well-I think everyone loves certain meals but they remember the dessert...it came last, it’s sweet...And I think that’s important. 

I’m dying to know, have you ever made a “boxed” dessert?

Yes, almost always, I don’t make brownies from scratch anymore. I just get the box...Ghirardelli and Betty Crocker are the best, in my opinion...Although baking is much more rewarding when you do it from scratch and oftentimes it even tastes better! 

What sweet treat did you whip up this week?

The other day, I got a recipe for Chocolate, Chocolate Chip Muffins. They are loaded with chocolate, and then you add a bunch of chocolate chips in them. And you got to have a scoop of ice cream with them. So those have been recent creations of mine. 

Mimi’s Famous Brownie recipe:

2 sq . Unsweetened Ghirardelli chocolate (2 oz.) 

1/3 cup shortening

1 cup sugar

2 eggs

3/4 cup flour

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 cup broken nuts (optional) 

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Melt together chocolate and shortening in the microwave;  beat in sugar & eggs.  Add flour, baking powder & salt.  Mix in nuts.  Spread in well greased 8” square pan & bake until top has dull crust, about 30-35 minutes.  A slight imprint will be left when the top is touched lightly with a finger.  Cool slightly; then cut into squares (16 2” squares).  Enjoy!!

[ssimagines]

A long road Ahead || Legolas

Pairing: Legolas Greenleaf x PlusSized!reader

Word Count: 1429 (kinda short sorry)

Summary: You are a human from Gondor who in love with an elven man. Not only is your loved looked down upon because of your difference in race, but people also take up issue with your size

Warnings: Fluffy, some terrible people fat shaming (but the reader rises above their petty hate and rocks like the badass she is), minor swearing... ()should have said that first

Request:   Hello I was wondering if you could do a Legolas x human plus size female reader Request? Kind regards Class 5 Mutant171

Note: Because you didn’t specify when you wanted this to take place, I just set in between the hobbit trilogy and the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. 

I honestly don’t know if this is what you wanted, but here. Sorry it took so long.

Masterlist

Human. Your race. It was so simple, yet it was something that separated you from the elf that you loved. The people of Gondor weren’t known for their tolerance for different things, so when Legolas first started courting you, you got a lot of stares. You figured that it was just the difference in your race and you were able to ignore it. 

It had been nearly ten months since you started seeing each other and you were happy. Beyond happy. You were over the moon. You fell in love with Legolas. You fell hard and he had caught you. Nothing could be better.

The people of Gondor had moved on from their distain of your relationship. They had grown to accept the two of you together. It was unusual for them to readily accept something, but you were grateful because the stares had worn down Legolas down. You were glad that that weight was no longer on his shoulders.

Legolas had been away lately. He was working with Strider which you had been told was actually Aragorn II, son of Arathorn II, the rightful king of Gondor. He had told you that he would be back today and you were now awaiting his arrival. You were out running your flower cart looking toward the gate every once in a while.

“How much for this beautiful rose, Melamin,” The voice was music to your ears. You whipped around to see the man you loved holding a single rose. He was wearing a clock to conceal himself. He had probably walked right past you earlier without you even noticing.

“Neled celeb,” you respond in elvish (three silver). It was your way of showing him that you knew it was him. His face lit up when you spoke. Slowly he removed his cloak from covering his head fished out coins from a small bag he carried with him.

He placed them in you had with a smile. Without saying another word, you took the coins from him and placed them with the rest of your day’s pay. An older man’s voice caught your attention. You turned to look at the man and help him buy flowers as well. He told you that he was buying them for his wife’s birthday. He had a wide grin that warmed you as you listened to him speak so enthusiastically about the woman he had been with for forty years.

Your mind wandered to you future as you listened to the older man speak. You couldn’t help but think of your life forty years from now. Your aging body being held by Legolas forever young figure. Your children coming to visit you. As you thought about it you realized just how truly much you loved Legolas. You felt Legolas’s presence beside you. He had walked over to you during your time daydreaming.

The man paid and departed with his bouquet of flowers. You turned to meet Legolas eyes with your own.

“When will you be done?” His voice seemed to float on top of all the sound in the very busy square. “I need to properly greet you.”

“I only have a few more flowers to sell for today,” You said gesturing to the cart in front of you. When Legolas looked, he saw that there were indeed only a few single flowers and two bouquets left.

“I will return to your home,” he said. “Meet me there when you are finished and I will take care of you.”

You smiled at him and nodded.

“I will see you later,” you said. You took a moment to press a chaste kiss onto Legolas lips. When you pulled away, you saw him cringe slightly. It hurt, but you brushed off as he walked away.

It didn’t take you too long to sell the rest of the flowers you had picked that day. It seemed that there was some sort of love bug in the air as everyone was buying flowers left and right all day. You made your way down the cobblestone path to your home while pushing your cart. Along the way you heard the familiar whispers and saw the common looks of distain on the people’s faces as you walked past.

As sad as it was to say, this was nothing new. You had dealt with this reaction your whole life. Growing up in a position of power, your parents never had any trouble with keeping you and your sisters feed. Often times, you had “overindulged” as you had plenty of food. This cause you to be larger than many of the other children growing up. The weight you had was maintained now, but you were still larger than nearly all the common people. This caused them to treat you harshly, but you knew that it didn’t define who you were so you had grown to ignore the prying eyes.

You reached your small, quaint home. You pushed your cart to its place outside and made your way to be greeted again by the man you loved.

“Nae saian luume',” Legolas said (it has been too long). His voice was barely above a whisper as he wrapped you in his arms. The feeling of the embrace was comforting and one you had definitely missed while he was away.

“Vedui’ a'maelamin,” you said as you pushed your face into his chest (greetings my beloved). You breathed his woodland smell as he buried his face in your long hair. The two of you stood their together wrapped in each other’s arms for what could have been an eternity. When you pulled away, it still wasn’t enough.

“I have missed you gravely during my travels,” he said. “All my thoughts were of you here. Being apart from you, burns wholes in me that only you can heal. I want you to come with me.”

To say you were shocked would have been an understatement. You pulled away from him further as you tried to understand what was going on. When Legolas had started courting you, you had asked several times to come with him, but he had always said that it would be too dangerous. Now he was asking you to come along.

Part of you was happy that he wanted you beside him, but the other part of you knew there was more to this than him just missing you.

“Legolas, what is wrong?” you spoke gently laying you hand on his arm. He looked down to place you were connected with love and concern filling his gaze. He slowly placed his hand on top of yours. His thumb calloused ran along your smooth skin, but you enjoyed the rough feeling that it provided.

“I worry for your safety here,” he spoke quieter than he ever had before. “You are my world, and here they look at you like the scum on the bottom of their horse’s feet. They speak ill of you and call you names when you cannot hear them. They call you large and ugly. They are awful to you and yet you still are so nice. I worry that they will cause you to lose your brilliant shine.”

You offered him a warm smile and moved to wrap your arms around the elf again. He eagerly took you into his arms.

“I mind not of their words and their looks,” You said. “I know better than their words who I am. I will always be stronger than anything they can say or do to me. The weight that I carry matters not to who I am. If it matters to them they are not important. I am better than that. They cannot break me.”

A single tear ran down Legolas’s left cheek and fell between you. You brought your hand to his face to wipe away the tear that was trying to make its way down his other cheek. The love his tears signified was one that was strong than anything that had graced Gondor in many years.

The two of you stood in silence just enjoying being with one another. Legolas relaxed the longer that the two of you stood their together. Slowly you lead him to lay beside you on your bed. You still held each other.

Legolas started telling you stories of his most recent journey. He told you of the secret romance between man he considered his brother and the Lady of Rivendell, Arwen. He told you everything until he slowly drifted off to sleep.

“Amin mela lle,” you whispered as you slowly fell asleep in his arms.

TAGGED: @class-5-mutant171

[thomaspatterson1989]

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[imababblekat]

Fitting In: MTMTE Swerve X Reader

(S/N):

-Summary: Being a mechanical being with a love for organic life, namely botany, it’s no wonder you feel like you don’t fit in amongst your kind. Swerve isn’t about to let you feel like an outsider though for having such a unique occupation. 

Author: Imababblekat

A/N: This is my first time writing Swerve or for the MTMTE verse, so ye. . .fair warning if its not up to par

~

Swerve made his way down one of the many long corridors of the Lost Light; a giddy smile plastered to his face and small box in metal hands. He hummed excitedly taking a turn down another hall, feeling his spark pick up when he recognized the familiar door ahead. The mini bot had been waiting all day for this moment; practically jumping up and down eagerly from behind the bar counter. The patrons didn't figure anything different about it, used to the mechs chipperness that sometimes became over bearing. . .okay a lot of times over bearing. He didn't care though, Swerve was too pre-occupied with seeing one of the few people who actually didn't mind him. Not even bothering to knock on the habsuit, he just waltzed right in, right in time to see his dear crush singing to 60's music blaring through the stereos.

His steps faltering as her body moved about. It was so rare to see her relaxed like this, and just being herself. Gosh, he just loved the way she moved; so free and lose. And her voice too. It carried with the loud vocals and was like sweet candy to his audio receptors. Swerve wished he could see this side of her everyday. As the song got to a high point and the lovely mech before him swung her helm back and forth, performing a very fluid dance move, Swerve let out a cheering whistle and clapped; gift tucked safely under his arm.

"Hey! Not bad!", Swerve yelled over the music.

(Y,n) screeched, jumping and nearly knocking over the pot on the nearby shelf. Fumbling to turn down the loud music she sharply turned to face her friend with a deep blush.

"Swerve!"

"Yeah?!"

"What did I tell you about knocking?!"

"To do it before walking in, but you see I was just so excited to see you! Plus if I knocked I would have never been able to witness such a grand performance! You sure you grew up on an energon farming planet, and not on Caminus?! Cause-"

At this point you had just tuned him out, turning back to your small bonsai to finish trimming. It wasn't that you were doing it on purpose, usually you loved hearing him go on, but with how you'd been feeling lately, something that he had said triggered your ever mounting insecurities.

Caminus, shit you wish you were born there. Then maybe you'd actually fit in with your mechanical race. You could be like Nautica! Oh how you wish you could be like her. The femme was so incredibly smart and talented, and even if she claimed not to be great in the arts, she was in fact an amazing dancer. Yeah, the girl could be a little shy every now and then, but she always managed to get past that and go on as her normal preppy, upbeat self. You though? Primus, you'd use to take a different route from your destination if it meant you could avoid walking by another mech completely; no matter if that direction would take longer or went the opposite direction of point B. Deep in your self depreciating thoughts, you hadn't noticed Swerve calling your name.

He was just joking about how you, Nautica, Chromia, and Windblade probably had a secret band, and should play at his bar. When you hadn't even giggled slightly in embarrassment from the idea, Swerve got a feeling that you weren't even listening. Directing his optics to you he noticed how you had ceased trimming as well, the sharp scissors paused over one of the side branches. His optic ridges furrowed as he scanned your still form. You'd been acting really strange lately. Normally very open and comfortable around him, you had suddenly just seemed to close off. It worried Swerve greatly. Being one of the few bots on this ship he was sure of that considered him a friend, it was terrifying to think that you were finally tired of him. But that also wasn't like you. You were nice to everyone, albeit in a shy and respecting manner, but none the less still very kind!

"Hey, your joints rusted into place or somethin'?", Swerve chuckled, trying to seem as cool as possible.

When his cervo had just lightly graced over your shoulder plate, you jumped with a light gasp and cut off some of the bonsai leaves. It was a strange awkward cut, and Swerve quickly felt bad.

"O-oh, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't worry, it wasn't your fault. I should have been paying attention is all. . .," you quickly dismissed him with a reassuring smile.

What did he do to deserve someone like you? Swerve shook his helm to keep from daydreaming any further, and smiled wide when presenting the box in his cervos. Perhaps this will help lighten the mood.

"I got you a gift!", he announced proudly; gently handing the box over to you.

You gasped, optics going wide as you pulled out a tiny container," Swerve you didn't?! H-how did you even get this?!"

The small mech scratched the side of his blushing cheeks, watching you cutely examine the organic thing," What can I say?! Owning a bar you know how to get the hook ups!"

You chuckled, walking over to your desk with a smirk," What? Did you sell your chassis or something?"

"Pssh, they wish I offered it~!", Swerve gave a sharp grin and attempted a sexy pose, but ended up looking just ridiculous, causing you to giggle.

Joining your side at the desk, he rested on his bent elbows to watch you lightly and very gently squeeze the ball in a different cup. He watched the once clear water slowly start to turn a bit mucky; probably from the thing you carefully handled in your cervo.

"Sooooo. . .what is it?", he asked curiously.

"You mean to tell me you brought something on board and don't even know what it is? Does Rodimus or Ultra Magnus even know about it?", you questioned with a gaped mouth and slightly panicked expression.

The male bot just lazily waved his cervo," Eh, people bring stuff on the ship all the time and never tell them. . .its uh. . .its not dangerous is it?"

You giggled watching your small friend inch slightly away from the gift he got you," No, I was just messing with you. It's a Marimo ball, a form of algae; completely harmless!"

"A Marimo ball, huh?", Swerve mumbled, his gaze following the plant to its new little home.

"You're so amazing (y,n)."

You froze just before putting the creature into its new habitat. Sensing your hesitation, Swerve peered up to see your optics wide and focused in on nothing. His ridges quickly furrowed, and he stood straight with a concerned voice.

"(Y,n), what's wrong?"

Softly letting the ball slip from your metal fingers, your shoulders stiffened as those harmful insecurities returned.

"Am I really that amazing Swerve?", you enquired, your vocals slightly wavering.

Swerve leaned back some, confused and slightly put off by your question. "Well yeah, why do you ask?"

You clenched the edges of your desk, slightly shaking trying not to break down.

"Oh I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that I'm a cybernetic being who's profession is in a field around organics. Where has that ever played a role in our species history? How does that contribute or help out our species. We can't eat plants. We don't breath, and our means of medicine and curing illness are re wiring a few circuits. I-I don't fit in here. Not on this ship, and certainly not in the Cybertronian race! I'm hardly even smart or talented by Cybertronian standards. It took me forever just to understand your occupation Swerve! Could you imagine how long it would take me to understand or do something of Nautica's level?! I only know the science of botany; I'm a 'botanist'. What place does a botanist have in a machine oriented species?"

By this point, you were practically quivering on the very edge of having a break down. All of your insecurities just pushed through your built up wall and came floading out to your friend; more than likely your only friend you felt. And soon you began to feel embarrassed, but mostly guilty for just having dumped everything onto him. You felt even more anxiousness build up at the growing silence from his end, and you tried desperately to keep the panic from shouting through your running fans. He was most definitely annoyed now right? Since when have your problems ever meant or mattered to anyone else?

It was the complete opposite though. Swerve didn't feel that way at all; in fact he was on the verge of losing it himself. How long have you felt this way? How could he let it get this bad?! You were his friend, his crush! He should have noticed the signs as soon as you started to feel like this. As a very insecure bot himself, he didn't want anyone to feel the same way. You especially; the one person who actually cared for him and actually helped to make him feel more confident in himself, even if just by a little bit! Grabbing you firmly by the shoulders, Swerve moved you to face him, catching you off guard by the saddened, hurt look in his visor.

"(Y,n) don't you ever think that you don't belong. You are incredibly amazing, and what you do is just as incredible. Perhaps you have a hard time grasping something like quantum mechanics or metallurgist, but we all have trouble understanding some things. You may not know this, but the other day Nautica was telling me how amazing it was that you were able to grow something organic. She told me she tried it once and it just wasn't working out for her. And don't feel bad if you don't get or can do anything that would be considered normal in our race. Take a look at Rodimus; that guy thinks more than half of the sciences out there are some form of magical witchcraft!"

Swerve made a sigh, calming his tone and speed of talk before placing one of his red cervos on your cheek plate.

"My point is. . .you do belong (y,n). You do fit in. As a Cybertronian and a member of this ship. This space craft is made up of some of the strangest, and craziest bots you'll ever meet. We're all unique and our own, no one is one in the same. You helped me to not be so insecure, by teaching me that it's not always bad to be different. Different is good, and if we were all the same then life would just be so bland. I don't want you to ever feel like your alone (y,n). What you do is so special and unique to you. And if anyone wants to be a piece of scrap, just because you work with organic life, than frag them! I'll always be here with you, (y,n)! I'll always see you as someone special, and nothing less!"

"Swerve. . .", your optics darted across his face, taking note of every give away to his truthful emotions about you.

Seeing your optics filled with much surprise and perhaps a bit of shock, the bartender started to feel his spark clench. Oh no, did he say too much again? Did he talk more than he should have once more? He started to question of what he did helped at all or just upset you further, when two metal arms had wrapped around him and pulled him forward. Resting in the crook of your neck, Swerve felt his fans kick in and was left in a bit of a trance before quickly returning the embrace.

The botanical habsuit was left in silence save for the speakers that played over head. ‘Ain't No Mountain High Enough’ started to fade through, and you couldn't help but notice Swerves grip tighten ever so slightly. Of course, this was the song that kick started your close relationship. Swerve was getting ready to close up the bar one night when he noticed you humming it in the corner. Upon inquiring how you knew it with much excitement, you told him you'd picked up on a little bit of Earths culture when studying its plant life. From then on, he was constantly teaching you about all sorts of human pop culture, and in turn would listen to your fascination over the planets greenery. Now, you both sat in your habsuit, the same song that ultimately joined you together, while holding each other close with much care and support.

~xXx~

[markhycks]

markhyuck au where

mark is a real estate agent trying to sell a house that has been unoccupied for years but donghyuck (the ghost who haunts it) won’t let him. warning: very long post / aged up!markhyuck 

—- i wrote this bc i had to get this out of my system - yall can keep scrolling if u dont like markhyuck !! ALSO i have z e r o clue how the real estate industry works so this is probably super inaccurate

ok so:

no one wants to buy this property bc its apparently haunted by a ghost

mark thinks thats just stupid

hes just trying his very best n rly wants a promotion !!

so his boss (obviously taeil bc we love a moon taeil managing a real estate business) offers to give a raise n promotion to anyone that can sell the house bc the last dude that tried to got so close but the couple pulled out last min after hearing abt the rumours

mark thinks he is aBSOLUTELY FULLY CAPABLE of selling this house so he tells his boss he wants to give it a shot

taeils like r u sure you’ve only been working here for 6 months

n mark lee’s all hell yea i got this thats why rumours around the world are saying mark is abs-

so boss man’s like aight ill leave this task to you 

everyone else in the office is all :000000

sicheng the cute intern is all ARE YOU SURE ABT THIS MARK in his broken chinese n he’s all cute and worried and its the first time the others have heard him speak this much

jaehyun his bff in the office is like good luck man bc he once tried selling it too but whimped out after encountering so called ghost

so anyways mark has to go inspect the property the next day

he gets given the keys yadda yadda

when he turns up to the house (which, mind you, is a very nice house located on the outskirts of town by a little lake) and opens the door he hears a loud “WHO GOES THERE”

and mARK FREAKS TF OUT

like he legit jumps n he’s pretty sure he almost peed himself n hes sso oso scared but then he remembers his mission and that he’s not going to turn out like the rest and he w I L L sell this house 

so he loosens his tie with a d e t er m i n e d face and enters the home

“whos there!! show yourself!” 

he thinks he sounds pretty fierce but it actually came out a quiet squeak

anyways it’s silent for a bit and mark’s like super wary as he closes the door behind him

“LEAVE THIS HOUSE IMMEDIATELY!!!” and suddenly theres a picture frame thrown at the wall

mark panics again and he’s so close to running out but he stays determined!!! bc!! fully capable mark!!

“no i have to sell this house and i won’t leave until i do so!!”

and it just goes silent again until the voice speaks up again

“who are you”

“i, um. mark?”

“you sound unsure”

“well. i mean, would you kill me for being a little nervous? jheesh”

he looks around. where is the voice even coming from? it projects through the entire house like its on speaker

mark’s not sure where he got this sudden confidence from but he feels a lot less scared than before so he just loosens his tie and walks around the house with his clipboard, doing his lil inspection

the ghost? spirit? whatever it is doesn’t say anything and mark just shrugs and carries on with his business and before he knows it an hour has already passed

“hey spirit” he calls out

and it’s like silent for ages

so he just shrugs and he’s about to leave when

“you can’t sell this house. it’s mine”

and mark just stops at the door and he can’t help but feel a lil sad at the spirit’s sad tone bc it probably has like so many memories in the house and it probably hasn’t crossed over or whatever (he’s not sure how the whole supernatural thing works but he’s watched ghost whisperer before)

the last thing mark says before he leaves is “i’ll be back tomorrow and you better be gone”

he thinks he hears the spirit scoff but maybe its just his ears

honestly mark has a hard time believing all of this and he goes to bed that night wondering h o w he’s going to deal with this situation

anyway mark turns up the next day and this time the spirit doesn’t seem as hostile 

that being said it continues to threaten mark and starts moving objects around

but honestly mark (and his newfound confidence) only rolls his eyes as makes a list of the repairs that need to be done (bc deep down he doesnt believe any of this is actually happening)

so they fall into a routine

mark keeps coming back and the spirit keeps threatening him

sometimes it tries to sabotage his work by moving things around 

mark’s gotten so used to it that he literally just sighs like “give it back”

the spirit actually listens to him and does

eventually they start talking more 

mark’s found out the spirit’s name is donghyuck but that’s all the information he knows 

he thinks it’d be inappropriate to ask stuff like “oh so how did u die” so they just end up having the most random conversations

“make sure you paint the hallway walls blue. the mustard yellow is so outdated”

“you’ll leave and let me sell the house if i paint them blue?”

“i never said that”

and mark ends up spending more time at the house than necessary

so one day jaehyun pulls him aside at work n he’s all “dude??? are u ok? you’re hardly in the office these days”

and mark’s like “yeah man u know its just the repairs for the house they’re taking ages”

jaehyun is suspicious but shrugs it off and tells him to be careful

taeil asks how the task is going and mark suddenly gets all nervous for no reason bc HOW IS THE TASK GOING??? he doesnt even know


he just gives another casual response n says the house should be ready soon for him to start bringing in clients

taeil just pats his back and wishes him good luck

when mark finishes work that evening he literally feels so down bc he literally had one j o b but here he is being all chummy with a ghost that haunts this house and its all just so messed up in his head

he doesnt know what makes him do it but that evening he ends up going to the house

“someone’s working the night shift”

mark just blinks in confusion at the words because what the heck. he’s meant to be here for work and this isn’t work so w h y is he here at 7pm on a friday???

instead he just takes a seat on the floor by the wall in the empty living area and sighs like a sad puppy

“what’s the matter?” donghyuck asks and his voice sounds genuinely concerned??? if anything it scares mark a bit

“who - no. what are you?” he finally asks

and then there’s silence

it’s literally like that for almost an hour before mark asks again

“are you like some kind of ghost? spirit? do you need help crossing over? i just. i really need you to leave and you’re not making my job any easier and i’m so confused and half of me doesn’t even believe any of this is real”

silence

it almost convinces mark that he really is going mad because there’s no such thing as ghosts and he’s just talking to an empty house

until a quiet voice says

“i’m neither of those”

mark feels so, so confused and he just ruffles his hair in frustration

“then what are you?”

“what’s your favorite color?”

he’s taken aback by the question 

nonetheless, he responds with a quiet “green”

“green is disgusting. red is better”

“red is literally the color of the devil i’m guessing thats what you are”

he’s expecting an angry remark but instead he’s met with soft laughter and all mark can do is smile in return

he ends up spending the night at the house talking to donghyuck all night

it’s a saturday the next day and mark is so co n f u s  e d when he wakes up to the smell of pancakes?

he follows the smell and finds a plate of pancakes sitting at the table with a note “i’m assuming you never ate dinner last night. eat up - D”

mark thinks he’s living in a dream bc did a ghost just?? COOK for him??

reality at this point has become so warped in his mind that he doesn’t care anymore and he starts eating

he hears laughter 

“calm down youre eating as if its your last day on earth” 

he sticks up a middle finger at no one in particular, hoping donghyuck will see it from wherever he is, and he’s only met with more laughter

when he’s finished eating and rinses his plate (which he has no idea where it came from) he’s thinking about what donghyuck said to him last night about not being a ghost

“donghyuck”

“mark”

for a brief moment he’s startled. it’s the first time donghyuck’s said his name and he’s not sure how he feels about it. if anything, the tips of his ears growing red must indicate a positive sign 

“what ar- i mean. how do yo- no. what do you look like?”

silence

he runs a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh before leaving the house again

he doesn’t return for another week

when mark comes back, he’s with a client

mr johnny seo and his boyfriend chittaphon seem extremely keen in the property and want to move in despite hearing rumors about a ghost

mark doesn’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing

johnny and chittaphon are into that buzzfeed unsolved kind of shit and run their own vlog series on youtube and theyre just e c s t a t i c that they might be moving into a haunted house

mark thinks theyre weird as shit but he wants that promo

donghyuck probably doesn’t mind sharing anyway

when he thinks back to donghyuck he feels a pang in his chest and dare he say it, he misses them? 

anyways

mark takes the couple back to the house and he feels weird

he can’t pinpoint what’s wrong but he just feels strange inside his chest

there are two things he’s learnt about johnny and chittapon:

one, they cant keep their hands off each other

and two, they can’t stop filming every waking moment of their lives

so when they’re following him to the house with their giant ass camera and chittaphon’s giggles, mark can only roll his eyes as he inserts the key 

but the door won’t open

mark’s confused - he hadn’t come back to change the locks so why won’t the key fit?

he feels slightly flustered in the presence of the couple and their camera and he laughs nervously

they must feel pretty bad for him because they laugh nervously too

mark tries again but to no avail and sighs in frustration when it hits him: donghyuck - this was clearly his doing 

mark clears his throat awkwardly before turning back to the couple “i’m sor-”

“LEAVE AT ONCE”

johnny and chittaphon jump back, eyes wider than saucers while mark has to c o n t a i n himself from rolling his eyes at donghyuck’s ~scary voice~

he half expects the couple to run away but instead johnny only begins to roll the camera once again and there’s a look of nervous excitement on chittaphon’s face

mark turns to the door once again and hisses “donghyuck open the door”

he hopes the couple haven’t heard him but judging by the looks on their faces, they have

“LEAVE MY HOME AT ONCE BEFORE I CURSE YOU AND YOUR FAMILIES”

and mark can only snort

johnny looks absolutely f a s c i nat e d by this point and mark groans internally before beginning to knock on the door

“donghyuck not cool just open the damn d o o r before i break it down”

there’s silence and mark takes it as his cue to try unlocking the door with his set of keys again 

it works and he allows the couple to enter

donghyuck attempts to scare the trio a few times during mark’s tour of the house by moving things around - causing johnny to drop his camera at one point and chittaphon to curse at him for bringing it because its probably broken now

anyway the tour goes t e rr i b ly 

mark is pissed

he’s not sure what johnny and chittaphon are feeling

when he sees the couple off he just shuts the door angrily and donghyuck just g i g g le s 

“what the fuck man did u have to do that?”

“i told you to leave”

“and i told you to leave. what is even your problem???” 

at this point mark’s just yelling and donghyuck doesnt seem to care tbh

there are a few more clients he tries to bring that week and the week after

they all go awfully thanks to donghyuck and by the end of the fourth week mark is on the verge of giving up

donghyuck on the other hand seems to be having way too much fun 

“can you just like, stop?” mark sighs 

he’s very very tired at this point and he’s considering giving the keys back to taeil and telling him he can’t do it

he’s picks up his blazer that he’d taken off earlier and is about to leave when he hears a 

“where are you going?”

mark just releases the loudest snort before turning to the empty walls of the house and raising a brow at nothing in particular

“are you kidding me? i’m done. congrats donghyuck you get to keep your damn house”

donghyuck doesn’t say anything 

- when mark shakes his head and turns to open the front door 

it won’t open

“very funny, donghyuck. open it so i can leave”

he’s met with silence a g a i n so he pulls the keys out of his pocket 

“wait!”

he whips his head around in confusion bc its the first time he’s heard donghyuck speak in such a desperate tone

he feels his ears growing red again

“uh.. yes?”

there’s a couple seconds of silence before donghyuck speaks in a quiet voice

“you asked me what i was right?”

mark just scoffs bc why is he even having this conversation at this point

he decides to answer anyway 

“like every day but sure”

“go to the loft” 

mark spends a few seconds contemplating whether he really should or not

he follows his gut instinct and makes his way to the loft

he’s only actually been up to the loft once just because it takes forever to get up there 

when he climbs up the ladder and looks around at the empty space he shrugs

“well?”

“go up to the bookshelf on the far left”

mark feels like a child being directed right now but he follows the instructions anyway

he feels slightly nervous and a part of him wants to escape

its congested up here and he can feel the back of his neck grow sweaty like he’s been waiting for this moment for ages!!!

a part of him wants to run out of the house as quick as possible he’s not even sure what hes expecting

“now um.. move that red book on the end”

mark’s hand is s h a k i ng at this point and he slowly does what hes been told

suddenly????? the bookshelf starts moving 

and then it hits mark

its a fake bookshelf thats actually meant to be a revolving door

mark is literally about to collapse bc he doesnt know whats waiting for him on the other side 

when the door finally reaches the other side all he can do is stare

he feels like he’s in a different world, standing in the loft which resembles an open space apartment, with a tiny window and a mini kitchen on the side, a door which leads to what he assumes is a bathroom and a small bed

but that’s not what catches mark’s attention

standing in front of him is the most b e a u t i f u l boy he’s ever seen in his entire life

he doesn’t look much younger than mark himself, slightly shorter with dark red hair, golden skin and the biggest chocolate brown eyes he’s seen on a person

mark doesn’t know how to react 

his mouth goes dry and the boy looks so frightened standing there in his own vicinity that mark’s afraid he’ll disappear if he touches him

“donghyuck?”

clearing his throat in an all too familiar voice, the boy speaks

“that would be me”

mark passes out

when he wakes up a while later, he’s on an unfamiliar bed and he looks around with narrowed eyes - realising that it wasn’t a dream and donghyuck is in fact a human living in a loft

mark looks around at the place and his jaw drops when he sees the wall opposite the bed is fULL of screens capturing cctv like images of almost every corner of the house

there are about three computer screens at the desk and mark is baffled

it looks like the bedroom of a teenage hacker 

“oh good you’re up. i thought you were dead” donghyuck says, walking over to him from the kitchen with a plate of food

mark sits up slowly, his head is aching and hearing donghyuck’s voice like this, so clear, so close to him, so soft - he thinks he’ll pass out again

he feels himself growing warm when donghyuck takes a seat beside him on the bed, putting the plate on his lap before getting up

before he can, mark grabs his wrist “wait”

“you probably have a lot of questions” donghyuck speaks over him

“well, yeah”

“eat up we’ve got all night” donghyuck says

mark hasn’t even made eye contact with the other boy yet because he can’t bring himself to

donghyuck is intimidatingly beautiful 

“i- what time is it?”

“9. you were out for hours”

“it’s been a long day” mark shrugs, taking a bite of the surprisingly good food donghyuck managed to cook up

so it turns out donghyuck’s family were the owners of the house but he’d been left an orphan as a teenager

in order to avoid being taken into social care, he made his own living space up in the loft so no one would find him - once he’d turned 18 they stopped looking for him and using his intelligent brain, he’d conjured up all the right devices to make it seem like the home was haunted by the ghosts of his family members

mark is baffled by the end of the explanation

“but the things moving around the house..”

“ever heard of remote controlled toys and simple physics?”

mark nods slowly and donghyuck just shrugs casually 

later on donghyuck shows mark how he’d managed to keep up this strange lifestyle of his

he also finds out that donghyuck is not much younger than himself like he’d predicted - there are only a few months separating them

mark ends up spending the weekend at donghyuck’s place

when it’s sunday night and mark’s getting ready to leave, donghyuck actually walks him up the front door

it feels weird to say the least - hearing donghyuck’s voice like this and not projecting through the speakers he had hidden behind the walls

he doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but donghyuck’s voice is sweeter than honey and he feels like melting every time the younger speaks to him in a quieter tone

“hey donghyuck” he says, once he reaches the door and turns to the younger

“hm?”

“you ever thought about just.. buying the house?”

donghyuck lets out a laugh

mark finds it condescending

“do you think i have the money to do that?”

“well since you’ve managed to maintain it so well - yeah” it turns out donghyuck does weird internet jobs from home where he gets paid a shit ton of cash through his online services - mark thinks its illegal but doesn’t want to say anything

donghyuck shoots him an amused smile and shakes his head 

just as mark pulls the handle of the door, there’s a warm hand on his and all he can do is gulp as he meets donghyuck’s nervous eyes

“you won’t still try to sell it.. right?”

mark remembers his outburst a few days ago and he sends the younger a sympathetic smile, shaking his head slowly “i won’t”

“thanks” and then donghyuck’s hand is gone

mark lowkey feels sad at the loss of warmth but it returns when donghyuck asks him in the most v u l ne r a b l e voice

“will you be back?”

“i don’t know”

mark tries to ignore the heartbroken expression on donghyuck’s face while he’s driving home that night

the next morning at work mark feels miserable 

mainly because it’s a monday but also bc of donghyuck

he’s just so conflicted and he doesnt know what to do

when he’s on his break and passes by taeil’s office, he hears taeil talking to one of his co-workers nakamoto yuta, a guy who transferred to the company a few months before mark joined

they’re talking about the house and most importantly they’re talking about mark

“boss just give me the house i’ll do it - i’ve already got a couple people i know who would be willing it purchase it despite the current situation”

“yuta you very well know this is mark’s-”

“boss it’s been over a month now and he’s scared off all his clients. please?”

there’s a pause before he hears a “alright. i’ll talk to mark tomorrow”

mark just p a n i c s because all he can think about is donghyuck

that night mark drives back to donghyuck’s place and the door is already open for him

“you came back” donghyuck sounds breathless - like he just ran down from the loft 

- mark sees sparkles in his eyes and his stomach does a backflip

“i came back” he repeats, the smile on his face growing

when he’s later sat down on donghyuck’s bed, eating the leftovers from the dinner donghyuck’s just made, mark explains his work situation to him

the younger boy nods, trying desperately not to let the sadness show on his face but fails

“hey” mark says, bringing a hand to the younger’s cheek

it’s weird but neither of them say anything

donghyuck thinks mark has the softest!! hands

“i won’t let them sell it” he says in the s o f t e s t voice and donghyuck wants to melt

instead he just scoffs and shrugs mark’s hand away

“if anything, i won’t let them sell it” he says and mark laughs

deep down they both know it’s not selling the house that’s the issue at hand; it’s mark not having an excuse to keep coming back

the atmosphere is weird and tense when mark leaves that evening

donghyuck walks him down to the door again and mark has the urge to hold has hand and tell him it’ll b ok 

just as mark’s about to get into his car donghyuck calls for him 

when mark turns around donghyuck is suddenly !! in his arms!! and wow! soft and warm donghyuck!! 

about a hundred alarm bells go off in mark’s head and his heart is POUNDING but all he does is bring his arms around the younger boy and tighten the hug

when mark arrives at his own place he thinks that donghyuck doesn’t just sound like honey, but smells sweet like it too

he decides honey is his favorite smell

the next day at work mark isn’t surprised when yuta greets him enthusiastically in the morning

he also isn’t surprised when both he and yuta are called into taeil’s office

mark has to act fast - he can’t let yuta take this from him

he’s been up all night thinking about this, thinking about donghyuck

so when taeil’s about to speak up, mark cuts him off:

“boss i want to purchase the property for myself”

both taeil and yuta’s jaws drop and he’s pretty sure he hears jaehyun gasp from outside the door - the office wasn’t exactly a large place

 “you want to do what”

“yes. i’ve thought this through and yeah. as a customer, i want to buy it. i’ve already spent so much time at it it practically already feels like home” donghyuck feels like home

“i’ve already thought about selling my place for a while now anyway - and i don’t think anyone else would be more willing to buy this house more than i am”

taeil and yuta stay silent 

eventually taeil agrees but hands over the property to yuta to sell to mark

when they all come to a deal or whatever mark is dragged aside by jaehyun

“is this why you spent so long there? you wanted it for yourself?” poor bb he is so confused 

mark just smiles and nods “yeah, guess i did”

mark doesn’t return to the house for another few days - he’s gotta tell his parents about his abrupt decision to sell his place and purchase a new one

since he lives in a different town from his parents, they offer to come with his younger brother jisung to help with the move out - he tells them its ok and that he has lots of helping hands here and he’ll call them over when he’s settled in

mark heads to the house towards the end of the week, the contract behind his back as he unlocks the door with his keys

“hey spirit - come out wherever you are!” he calls out playfully

to his surprise donghyuck’s already on his way down - trying not to smile at the sight of the man in front of him

“mark lee”

“donghyuck” he says, unable to contain his excitement as he holds up the paper in front of the younger 

donghyuck squints at it, confused for a moment before his eyes widen

“YOU DID WHAT?????////”

“i bought this house!” 

donghyuck doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry

“what the hell you just bought my house?!”

mark’s slightly confused bc he thought donghyuck would be happy

donghyuck looks like he’s abt to burst into tears and mark the awkward turtle starts panicking again

“i - i thought it would be better than a random person buying it??” 

“nO because a random person would never buy this house for as long as im alive and now yOU just came out of nowhere and TOOK POSSESSION OF IT??!?!?” 

donghyuck’s a lil mad bc he feels like the house is all he’s got and now its gone and he’s mad at himself for letting his guard down in front of mark and getting so attached to mark and falling for mark and he doesn’t even realise he’s saying this all aloud until mark stares at him with wide eyes

“you what?”

silence

“you do realise not saying anything won’t work anymore since i can actually see you now, right?” 

silence

“donghyuck”

there’s a quiet mumble “sowhatifilikeyou”

mark feels like he’s about to comBUST

donghyuck’s face is literally the color of a tomato and he just shrinks and he’s so cute mark wants to kiss him

so he does

donghyuck’s lips taste like the warmth of the summer, the confused and nervousness of their feelings, but most importantly they taste sweet - just like honey, just like donghyuck

when mark parts from the kiss first, donghyuck’s fingers curl softly into the material of his shirt, he presses his forehead against the younger’s 

“i’m sorry i did this all without telling you - i just. i did what i felt was right. this feels right, donghyuck. being with you feels right.” mark’s just so nERVOUS and half of what he says comes out so shaky until donghyuck responds quietly

“i want to be with you”

mark wants to pass out

this time however, he doesn’t

anyways~~

time skip a couple of weeks 

donghyuck moves out from the loft and they settle into the house properly

after much insistence donghyuck removes the cameras from around the house except for the exterior and they turn one of the spare bedrooms into a little study for donghyuck where he can do his “illegal business” 

mark suggests him getting out a bit more and donghyuck reluctantly agrees 

mark takes donghyuck out on dates to the movie theatre and out for breakfast

donghyuck is so nervous in public and is practically glued to mark’s side the whole time it’s adorable

they’re both living so d om e s t i ca l ly its sickening

at mark’s housewarming he tells his family and friends that he met donghyuck through tinder

jaehyun doesn’t believe him bc donghyuck’s voice sounds so familiar but he doesn’t know where from - he chooses to drop it though bc the couple in front of him look so happy so he goes to bother sicheng

~~ 

“hey loser” donghyuck walks out from his study room one sunday afternoon when mark’s on the couch watching tv

“yeah??” mark lowers the volume

“cough up your rent for the month - we gotta pay the water bill cause your fatass won’t stop showering every two minutes”

mark almost chokes on his spit

“me?” 

donghyuck nods, flopping down to take a seat beside him

“idk if you’ve noticed but im the owner of this house if anything you should be coughing up rent”

donghyuck snorts “owner in name. we all know who this house rly belongs to”

mark gives him the stink eye “listen you little shi-mph”

before he can begin his string of insults donghyuck’s already climbed onto his lap and his lips are on mark’s

and they live happily ever after !!!!

[castlehead]

[CAPARISON'D]

There is no judgment slightly more than kind Now left that wld apply to this suggestive thing

Artlessly done as it is, but like the Earth is artless, Myself the experience of the Earth I have, or

Rather, am able to communicate; sometimes Nothing more than that, and in those cases feel

I am but shavings of selfhood, not so held fully in A Physical Body, yet not even able to accurately

Imitate reality outside of my a priori orb: I always Fail to bring it back: example is one time I was

Supposed to buy pot for this trip to this dude I used To know's house in Martha's Vineyard but thought

Cops / Were throwing shade where I was even tho Probably like one patrol car had driven past me

Or whatever, somewhere on Columbus on the stoop Of this brownstone out of many -it was an affluent

Neighborhood, a few blocks from my house- and Anyway paranoia got to me before the dealer, whose

Name -which was really probably more like a nickname- Was 'Talon' -yo, man.. it's been so long I'd thought of

That. I remember: I ghosted into the / Better, darker Shade of pregnant shade my room had, the one I used

To hate and love at the same time, and which my irritated             Mother oft wld clean up for me, and which smelt of humiliation,

Like a group of people opening your door and immediately Stepping in dog vomit -I feel indifferent about it as I am older

Now, and it's been two years since I dropped The ball and fell out of a window- I mean / Chicken'd

      Out of getting the Pot.- The monotony is I almost Do get it, every time, stuffing it furiously

Into a fannypack i always lose, bc I must lose, it / Then End up having to purchase more fannypacks: o ugly futility: it is

                                        Like when my gf and I lost our wallets pretty  Sequentially, like, within the space of a week, the way

    We [both of us] lose our minds, certainly, every day: and the spirit of-- Reality? It goes and expires, the schmuck, from exposure in snowy

                 Caverns after my 9th goddamn Fannypack. / It hid so long Within the ear and don’t come out but

        As such, by its knotty refusals, tells me how meaning sounds: Now what’s the story here: these heroes, makars, tune

        Up me, leave me a lyric without an epyllion, an extended Sequence of spongy self-regard that grows in the heart of

These strange routes to find my wallet, yet much like         Exposure to cold climates, mayest I find where

Nestles this goon what who stole my griefy solemness

Took my schedule for my weeping: I must meet   My grief-quota, and pushing myself into my findings

I perform more experiments with beakers and shit   But in vain seem to leave my sanity figuratively burnt

In the corner, ignore her either bc I find her precious Or bc I am neglectful, and usually ignorant 

OF the long-time effect of loosening yr circadian Rhythm, which I guess would be apposite to The rhythm of when it was time to cry in public.

Finagling finesse, or robbing silence Of hours and hours / Of record.

Which one is worse? And are either Productive? And will Vaping give

Me early onset Dementia? I don't want to be A dull boy. I feel like buried beneath the concrete

Built of all great men Looms the rind of the thing,

The res' residue of Gd. That prays away inside all heroes

Like the precious goop inside a jelly Donut, a goop or honey / They seem

To acquire endlessly from caverns of perspective As sound the mechanical counting thuds of heart.

. .  .   .   .     .      .       .        .          .

Of all the spooky diameters these figures tell me To follow till the finish, / These podunk palings

Are the worst. Stretching up the road indeterminately            To someplace / Out of sight and that

The poet is not even sure is actually there. The thing you have done, the court of bees in

My head tell me, While you do not mind a response To this yet you tiptoe / Over that, puts pressure on

The work of a gaggle / Of random bros that can clone Themselves / Sifting into creation like wild atomic dust.

I hear this propounding from the court of bees, Crones lift up the light to me like strange furniture,

Double over under its [wait] weight and drop that Massive coffin of light into the local undrained swamp.

                              In that fabulous mire will yr body sleep; you will always               Harbor / In your chest that detailed yet subtle truth about you nobody

Knws about for certain, the thing you had no choice to Be, that blurs yr eyes, I speak of it you, saith the swarm.

. .  .   .   .     .      .       .        .          .

Honestly, write as speech of moment, yeh: Stuff about / The time passing, your thighmuscles

Clenching as you sit here realizing u clench Yr ass too, and then everything goes

Into this goofy rhythm of tearsdrops of moment And the same your toes, / Some anxiety hoping

To accelerate the past / From you and your palings. Surrounding you, as if to jump you for money-

-Flits the doom that could fit in like I didn't in Highschool; yes I became the cliché misfit as

The spirit’s lull in me, waiting for shitty misfit Carnage to end: I had to welcome it, it was

The life of me, it was either that or liberation From life-entire. Almost dozing off, the security

    Guard in my brain hears a rustling in the bushes. / Try                             To deck out these pithy voices in something

Nice and acceptable, a'saith, said The Bees, and Said the Bees, End up shaking no crown, / Nor did free myself

Of anything for nothing at all but what I did, a crime that Is, of being th the hellish flower flowering out my Lungs, into your basic realm with every breath,

As the voice of the speaker Of the pome seems undecided on who

Is actually speaking, me or you, I'd say The only thing to do is duel it out, poet

And the carnage in my hands, coming In frank whorls of feeling that efface

My sense of balance with its own glee Of shaky grip, which I trust, and I boil

With the energy / Of fifteen Wellbutrin today. I am left here to my work that's called, "To be all

The way true with myself" Which comes From this very domepiece here, you all. That I-

-Can ever be an audience to myself, forever, Is enough of an accomplishment as a poet.

. .  .   .   .     .      .       .        .          .

The writing, tho, is another voice telling me about Myself, knocking on my skull for hollow spots

To take a sledgehammer to. It drifts, I think, / Thru many People, explaining whatever's holy around them: like ticks

Finding weeds by the broken gate That grow in an unnatural sort of way like

        They got sprayed with chemicals Or something, though,

Perhaps the ground is bad, by the broken gate. Where I make my desolate way to work,

                                 Have my desolate work done, or to say, this crime:            I say my continuum: I despoil my ego, sure, but that is not the crime. I-

-Intend the risk, but have in me some coward Pushing back, repeatedly asking me if I'm

Crazy or something: suddenly I am fallen To the breaches of the World, so as to find

My Gd., the one that is the baroque one, And wriggle about as if I was a child on her

First plane ride: my ears hurting popping Cabin pressure and hellish something

Outing my innermost / What if's about The Baby; so it, like conjuring a thesis

Statement, shapes something of all That contradicting Clay into

Something my inner nobody can handle, frail as he is he Lays muted, finally attached to the beauty / Of the flower

. .  .   .   .     .      .       .        .          .

In my lungs. Go inside an Outside place, something says,

Permeating thru a fog of voices, Pieces, The bees they are long gone,

And I am not alone: so: notice Yr location, detail by detail,

The plain sense here is there: My symmetry is more than bothered air:

It is calls to me made by the telephone: I listen patiently to the dialtone as it weeps,

All things then taking on a character of Consciousness. I apply my consciousness

To others, like ravens do maybe. And then It is / Almost done, as is the inching doom:

I should b at this moment receiving Nourishment from feeding Tube, A coma patient suspended in Unbroken sleep, loved ones hoping He'll waken to his will again, Those I love / Doubly forsaken By me who thought he ws. forsaken

By the World.-- This perpetuity is a moody little fate I have in me, It is the location I notice, like you said, you, thru The fog. Happy? Now it won't leave. It is like A mouse i'the wainscot [Dickinson] / Telling me Myself, poet or perhaps the man, or the opening sun Once more to strange and futile dawns since since I do live, and live: so I am: and I have my own

Special clan of becketts picking Sundries from their asses

Soothing my jagged impressions of the World With familiar image, smoothing like a ironing Board; and, they keep policing the fictions on Which rest the reasoning behind my writing Behavior, why I did a song so very long.

. .  .   .   .     .      .       .        .          .

"Old father old artificer Stand me now and ever in good stead." Rough the linens on my deathbed are, and scratchy, It's wool I always hated the texture of when I was A kid: now of course, am a Loathing Regular of All On the internet, / Intent on memes to the last, he was, That's what it'll say on my epitaph. / In all my strength I say, then, or entreaty my messd up life disappear into

The dawn that I think has something wrong With it, it seems like it is kind of off, like People who are confined in boarding houses For the mentally ill. From my screaming Radio I hear someone selling Cadillacs. It Was not midnight. It was not raining. It was The fence that was my crime, outstretched Into stupid distances like a Wyoming of the Dirty cosmos, dirtier than silence cures the Exegete. I profit sentence by sentence, see,

And the Ars Poetica is a way to send a treatment Of the play to The Hollywood. Sentence is a line Robbing my habitat, until I am inside looking in, For the sky stops at the ground, and that is all. The mirror falls, and I must write out savage Things like this, that make up their mind About what they are, interest only

In keeping symmetrical. My soul needs exit From any light, even of lamp, it needs a Hypnotic Like Ambien to trip out on and slump over Dinner with my family later, still fucked up on It. Then something stops, not time, I do Not want it to be anything like time. Perhaps Verbosity: but I do comment

On epiphanies well enough to know the sound OF epiphany, without knowing what exactly The sudden clarity reveals. Did one look at What one saw, or did one see what

One looked at? -Thats me stealing from Hart Crane. Great artists steal because they see

How a style can be improved, so adopt it, make It better. Such sins amass; the Angels sing, O Theft!

Theft! And I go ahead plant a knife enough a knife for some Australian guy to say, "THATS A KNIFE." But not

Enough to charge anybody with anything, then somehow Twist it into a hate crime, duly distracting The Angels

From their liminal matters of blame upon me I am / Not thieving, I am making belated what Came before me, sort of like Mars in retrograde;

The stiff providence of fences and unlimited Bougie refernces atone for my ubiquitous use

OF all the best parts of everything, to make them Better than they were, written by those

Who wore a style like a 18th century noble Wears a musket: protectively. He honors most My steal, sorry, i mean style, who works under it-

-To destroy the teacher, saith Whitman, But that is love: all he didnt have was a hand On the button ol Kimmy J is foaming at the mouth

To push, destruction is abstraction, sure; Destruction here is used loosely for the sake of Serenity of speaking phrases gone away

Like they all went on a family vacation or something. Bleed, and you will summon presence enough To empty yourself for sleep [Faulkner] or make An infidel of abraham and Split the-

-Planets [Melville] and this cosmos is a trunk Of Blanche Dubois fine french furs, I bet you think this is

That, as on I go in a struggle to prove to everyone That I saw God & junk, on that day I got high On SSRIs and grasped for sense only to find it Under the control of something espionage And aloof, darting eyes not like a villain

But like a Paranoid Raven, then dies me as opposed To not: Reversal of some happy bumps in the day To make up for all the spooky ones in the night That hint at me like the first oncomings of ALS And I have not a feature film but hope the grass Is green as well on this margent of further sides Then abrupt belief, to dive in an' conquer or Repel sense back to Plato's Cave, which is a-

-Reference I shouldnt be using as I oh puritanical collector Of souls, well, I havent read Plato at all but i feel like if i did

Id be made another mans satellite, as Emerson, Somewhat in the vein of Blake, says in his introduction

                     To the essay Nature, I think that's the one. So: A hawk crosses the sky like there was some

A to B GPS followment but it is probably just migrating early. Take everyone back to the city. [Ashbery]

FURTHERANCE

[pensurfing]

Caitlin’s Three Things List

Okay, so moments (probably hours by the time I finish this) ago I wrote a goals list that I think is good for self-evaluation. (Keyword: This is what I think. results may vary depending on what you’re looking for.)

I’m going to hop to it and answer some of these that I laid out in hopes of having a better idea of what I want to accomplish. 

The Three Things Lists!

1) Three things that went well this year.

* Audience growth

So once upon a time, I grew a pretty decent following due to creating an Inktober Prompt list. My expectations: Maybe two of my friends would do this, maybe. And then one stranger that has followed me for a while. (There are a few followers I recognize their username because if I post something they always like it and for some reason that keeps me going.)

But because of this prompt, I was exposed to MANY new creators and illustrators that I now enjoy chatting with and following! Instagram had the biggest maintained growth. I’m excited to create for an audience that actually expects me to create and not just for friends who see my things “whenever they aren’t busy”. (Not to bash them or anything, just there are a lot where unless I tell them, they don’t see the posts I make.)

Another surge of growth in my audience was due to tabling at conventions this year. I was terrified to show my work let alone attempt to sell it to someone. Tabling at cons not only boosted my confidence but also quieted one of my ever going demons. “YoU sUcK aT dRaWiNg CaItLiN.” “How do you have a degree? oh right, you just barely passed.” I can’t say this is the case, there is an audience that genuinely enjoys my scribbles. So I am forever thankful to Atlanta Comic Con for giving me that chance. It honestly opened a few doors for me.

**Process

I’ve gotten more comfortable with showing my process. It can be messy, crisp, and illogical. But turns out the people who enjoy my content enjoy my scrambled thoughts. It’s something about not being alone in this sort of sense that calms the nerves.

So I can say with chest poked out that sharing process has gotten MUCH better. I can thank a self-help book I bought this year that was a FANTASTIC BUY. Austin Kleon has [two] (currently? If he has more then I’m buying it like people buy a name brand.) books that helped me see that it is GREAT to share not only the process but advice. “Show Your Work” is the book I’m talking about for now. Great tips, the outline is on the back of the book. So if you’re like me, I need to clearly see what I might be getting into, you might have a ball.

And finally, (not calling myself out on this but other) If you’re going to respond to people when they ask you “how do you___?” do not answer “Google it”. That is the rudest thing I’ve seen some of even my FAVORITE illustrators do; that response can burn in hell. PERIODT. (my one typo allowed.)

*** Art Style Exploration

For those who think college will help you establish an art style that you’ll enjoy or help nourish the one you currently have.... Let me save you over 80K.... No, the fuck it won’t.

That was the biggest thought I had going into art school. If anything, it confused me more and utterly destroyed what little confidence I had in my drawing style. After graduating, I had a huge swing from how I used to draw to how my art currently looks. I stopped trying to please the one professor who stood between me and my degree and started drawing to please my tastes. And guess what? That did something. And that something WORKED. I love what I draw now; I see why I chose this as my career path. I’m genuinely happy with how my pieces turn out versus in college just wanting to turn the damn thing in and hoping it isn’t an F.

2) Three things you could have handled better.

* The loss of a good paying client.

Now hear me out when I say this: A good paying client DOES NOT EQUAL a good client. Say that three times and then exhale.

Back earlier this year, I had the opportunity to work with a writer who gave me hell and back. And even that is an understatement. I dealt with her because in school you were taught “if they pay on time, finish the work and get the exposure.” 

I’m here to tell you my lesson learned: A good paying client DOES NOT EQUAL good exposure, good pay, a good client. 

I was doing the work of three for the price of one and a half. (And was always told I charged too much.) She tried abusing this power with friends of mine, with other illustrators. When things turned out bad, she tried saying it was my fault. She read my contract and then tried telling me I changed the wording, I purposely did this thing, another thing was my fault. I could go on with this story.

The part that I wish I handled better?

How I treated myself afterward. I’m so used to people telling me, “Cait, this is what you do wrong. This is how you fix it.” that I don’t consider my own feelings, and when I bring my feelings into the scenario they no longer matter. Because they tell me they don’t matter. In this case, I wish I had treated me better, because my feelings, my mental health, DOES matter.

**My Patience Getting Into Conventions.

Pretty self-explanatory. I got into one, finished one, and wanted to do eight more in a week. But this sort of thing just takes time and I need to accept that.

***My losses

I had to listen to a Little Mix song to actually learn this one. The context of the song is nowhere near the topic at hand. But a verse from Power feat Stomzy really packs a punch after this year: 

“ You look him in the eye and say, "I know I'm not a guy But see there's power in my losses and there's power in my wins" “

I had to look one of my demons in the face, and state something similar. My loses mean I’m trying. My loses piling shows I’m not willing to give up easily, and that is something that took a while to be content with.

3) Three things artistically you want to improve on.

*Composition

It’s not awful, but it can be better.

**Color

I told this BOLDLY if I might add while critiquing someone else’s portfolio; “Your color palette is boring. All your [things] look as if they are from the same universe, during the same time of day, with the same kind of mood. After three photos it’s bland, boring, and understood you have a preference.” 

Can you say damn Cait? The statement was, in fact, true, but I certainly could not talk. My color palette is mainly bright, pop, and happy. In order to tell a story, I KNOW it is best told with color. And I failed myself this year. But I sure won’t next year.

***My Damn Tag

Okay, alright. Why is it well-established artists have their tag figured out? Even some who’s art style is so recognizable (I’m looking HEAVILY at you Gabriel Piccolo.) we know it’s theirs, seem to have a tag that suits them and works for them. But more importantly, they put it in A VERY DECENT SPOT. SOMEONE SHARE THIS SCIENCE WITH ME? CAUSE APPARENTLY I DON’T GET IT.

4) Three things you want to focus on trying.

*More backgrounds.

As much as it pains me, I need to improve on backgrounds and perspective. When I do make backgrounds, I’m told I make great pieces. That I should look into becoming a background artist. And don’t get me wrong, I like them. But I don’t like them.

I feel as though I need to improve in that region so that way I don’t feel as though it’s a weakness of mine. My backgrounds are nice, but they aren’t nice to my standards.

**More designs

I love character designs, but let’s be real. If you were to scroll down my site or my Instagram page, or even this Tumblr archive, could you tell? 

I draw characters a lot sure, but none are designs. No process, no sheets, no turnarounds, none of that. So that’s a huge goal of mine for 2019.

***Scheduling posting

At one point I was pretty good at this. Live stream in Instagram and Twitter, cool. Videos on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Cool. Everywhere gets a photo, everywhere gets a silly one-liner. Yay. I’m not leaving anything out.

Well by the end of this year that totally crumbled. 

SO I want to try getting better at that thing there. Because having attempted this at the end of the year was cool, but it still wasn’t enough apparently.

5) Three positive things to tell yourself.

* You are an inspiration. That’s all you wanted to be in life, you did it. I’m proud of you.

**You didn’t kill yourself like you tried to; you opened up about it for once and used that pint up anger creatively. That is very hard to do, trust. I’m proud of you.

***You moved on, matured, and let it go. Even when the goddess inside you told you these peasants didn’t deserve your light, your friendship, your greatness. I’m proud of you.

I’m just proud of me for not snapping when I had every right to; not everything deserves a reaction.

6) Three negative things you want to leave for 2018.

*Comparisons 

Oh boy. I am extremely guilty for this: I’ll compare myself to a well-known illustrator my age. I’ll compare myself to friends who are in the field having a blast and getting work; I’ll compare myself to friends who aren’t in the field and they struggle at getting work. I’ll compare myself to the kid I graduated high school with who is traveling the world, is able to eat, come home to his dog and relax because he doesn’t have tuition to pay. I’ll compare myself to these goddamn baby boomers who keep repeating “We didn’t have it hard, you’re just being stupid. Millennials aka our children deserve to starve. We’ll just put our faith in our grandchildren because screw the kids we raised and refuse to pay accordingly. $7 an hour worked in my day, they need to make it work now.” I’ll compare myself to fake people I created in my head and purposely made scenarios and wonder why I’m not like them, said creations I made because I was pretty low for ten minutes...

I just compare myself too much. To any damn body. It’s draining, obnoxious and most of all pointless. My new motto for next year is: “Unless it is helping you grow yourself, your brand, your spirituality, don’t do it.”

I’m not comparing my chapter two to someone’s chapter thirty-five. I’m not even comparing my chapter two to someone else’s chapter two. I need to stop doing that PERIOD! My journey is different, unique, and worth seeing through.

**Listening to negative others.

A couple of years ago, I lost a close friend around the time my aunt passed away. During this time I was hypersensitive to any and everything done or said; I also kept many walls up to hide my mourning. He caught the crossfire of all of that. I kept secrets from him I was too prideful of admitting and lashed out because of the emotional turmoil I kept suppressed. While in the midst of packing his things and leaving my life, he mentioned that I was a failure because I was unemployed and artistically speaking I hadn’t accomplished anything; that I would remain that way because that’s just the person I deserved to be. Now mind you, I graduated college that year; he was a flunk out. I changed my art style dramatically compared to when I started school to pass; he thought just posting crappy pictures of lukewarm sketches were equivalent. I started attempting trends and all he could do was copy. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t to bash my old friend. If he were to come back into my life and move on like nothing had happened I’d do the same. (With some limitations.)

It’s just while typing out this scenario, of our four-year friendship I can’t think of one nice thing/compliment/gesture he has said to me. That’s my problem.

I can be praised, admired, and look highly upon for years straight. But my problem is I let others negative thinking and comments marinate with me for a long while. Too long of a while.

Another example is my mother’s friend. (My mom has many friends that do this shit, but this one stung more.) 

This friend always roots for me; treats me like a person, and encourages my artistic journey. I consider her family before my actual relatives. 

We went over for some barbeque the family was having and I was ready. Black Hallmark Cookouts, laughing, good food, good music, shit talking others teams. She asked me a harmless question of when was I going to quit my day job. Seemed like nothing at first, until the added gest of what she continued with. “All I’m saying is you can’t do [your day job] forever. That will get old. If the art thing doesn’t work out next year what’s plan b?”

I’m not a calm person (usually). Normal Caitlin would have cursed her out and mentioned how just because she chose a job to settle and be miserable at for most of her life doesn’t mean I have to follow suit. But again, of all the nice encouraging things she has done, said, and showed, for a while, I couldn’t think of it. 

So I pray I let go of this nasty behavior in 2018; it’s going to be hard but it is dire.

***Saying I’m Not Enough

Alright, now put the combination of the two above in a bowl and what do you get? A Caitlin who struggles in interviews and applying for jobs because I let comparisons and negative comments rule my thoughts. This stopped me from applying to jobs I would have been perfect for; internships that could have helped me; posting art online.

We (including me) have to stop thinking that in order to be an illustrator means we have to pass a certain threshold of struggle, success, and a huge number of followers. That isn’t the job description. NO JOB DESCRIPTION has ”must have at least 10K followers on Instagram or Twitter.” nOnE. 

So we (including me) need to stop treating ourselves this way. Period.

7) Three things you’re looking forward to in 2019.

*Going to move conventions.

**Adding pieces to my portfolio to try again at job hunting.

***Becoming content with the fact that my current situation isn’t my permanent situation. Unless I laze around and make it so.

Alright, so this was basically me calling myself out on my noise. Lashing out my demons and putting it in writing what I want to accomplish. I hope this inspires you to write yours, even if you keep it private. I hope it guides you and maintains your vision.

I’ll see you in 2019

A new wave

Caitlin xx

[rzuberi]

Term 1 CAS Reflections

Creativity:

Extreme Math - This term of Extreme Math was extremely entertaining. Extreme doesn’t do the activity service, it was beyond extreme. Not only were we consistently learning to do problems I’d never seen before, taking on some problems that took some mathematicians years to solve. With a mix of A-Level and IB students in the group I got to see a very diverse skill set. The way the two courses cover material is very different which made Extreme Maths even better. The A-Level students were able to bolster our weaknesses and we were able to bolster theirs. A good example that I often refer to is when we were doing a very complex problem involving the multiples of numbers. The IB students made a large grid and were working their way through tally charts and were steadily making their way towards the problem (as we were all math students.) Whereas, all the A-Level students in our group were also taking computer science. And thus with a few lines in Python, a fellow A-Level student solved in second what probably would have taken us the whole 2 hours.

I also participated in the UK Senior Maths Challenge, an enormous worldwide event. This was my first time participating in an examination ‘challenge’ and it was very interesting. My colleagues and I spent hours doing past papers preparing and our administrator gave us many different questions to help us build the mental flexibility to deal with the various problems that could be given to us. We were made to prepare for anything that came our way, and we were. Practicing with new formats and new questions was probably the biggest benefit to me, as it helped me build my problem solving skills which is essential to my core as well as my daily life.

As of late, we are working towards preparing for RITANGLE challenge. Once again, we're working with a whole different set of problems. However, RITANGLE is a team sport, which is really nice as once again we have that integration which we’ll have when we compete. By working together to solve problems, we can complete much more than we could as an individual part. It also has assisted some of us in making our work more clear so everyone is able to understand it and build on it.

Senior Model United Nations - MUN is something that I feel is essential in my day to day life. MUN gives me the opportunity to go out and debate on real world issues and explore different perspectives. I’m from Canada, and I have travelled and lived all over the world and have met people from every corner of the planet, but the nice thing with MUN is that when you receive a placard with a new nation, you truly have to try and become those people and try to share their points of view. It’s been really eye opening for me and its taught me a lot about the world, and you can really further understand why people feel a certain way about a topic just by immersing yourself into a nation.

In MUN we’ve also explored a wide variety of topics in the perspective of the United Nations, which is very interesting for me. Most people don’t realize how formal debating works or how large organizations like this come to compromise. I believe it’s essential for people to know how their government and how their bodies of authority work, so they can make informed decisions and be part of an ever growing world. Going through formal debating and learning first hand is an experience that will live with me for the rest of my life.

Also, MUN is extremely fulfilling. Going up on the pedestal and giving a strong speech, followed by formal debate is always really fulfilling as you drive the direction of debate and you are truly contributing. Even more fulfilling is seeing the nervous individuals going up, cheering them on, and seeing their eyes light up after they hear the applause at the end of their speeches. At the end of every session, as a group, we all grow a little bit closer and everyone gets a little bit more skillful in debating.

Service:

Making a Difference: Cambodia - This one was mostly in the title. Every single time I walk into Cambodia Project I’m always happy to know I’m driving some change and making a difference. Usually, every day goes pretty formulaically. I walk in, we have a short discussion about progress, and we all go immediately to our projects and diligently move forward. Everyone has their piece of the puzzle and we all come together at the end to complete our final product. One of the best things I believe we have with Cambodia Project is the diversity of year groups of students. In my other extracurricular activities we’re mostly a group of Year 12s, but with Cambodia Project we also have quite a few Middle Years students. Thus, we have the opportunity to teach them new skills and act as role models.

For International Week, after working hard for weeks in planning, getting supplies, and advertising (we helped the Middle Years create some very professional looking posters using digital software and made it even more effective using a data we found on effective advertising), we finally were ready to go out and start fundraising. International Week is a week to celebrate all the different cultures all around the world as we here at JIS are a very diverse school. We found this to be the perfect week to sell ice-cream to raise money to  aid the Cambodian people and help to raise a bit of awareness of the situation in Cambodia as many people really have no idea.

Currently we’re working on another brilliant idea. An international cookbook. We hope this will help to engage the school community to celebrate cultures all around the world and assist us in raising money for children in Cambodia. It’s extremely fulfilling work and I’m excited to continue it in the future.

Activity:

Personal Fitness - Balance. I feel like this activity is essential for me keeping a good balance in my life. Going to the gym is something I like to enjoy on a regular basis. It’s been rigorous but looking at my BMI I’ve definitely made results. Generally I like to start with a 10 minute warm up on the treadmill. Warming your muscles up and getting prepared to keep a constant heart rate is essentially for a good work out. Afterwards I usually circuit train, starting with my arms as I’ve just worked my legs. I like to finish with a good superset on 1 or 2 muscle groups as it really puts pressure on those muscles and leads to faster, better results. 

These days I feel the hardest thing is probably learning form. Working out, especially with free weights, does have potential for injury if you don’t do it properly. I’ve been re-evaluating a lot of my form as I’ve noticed sometimes my soreness lasts longer than it should, and I fear that might be due to bad form in some of my exercises. Of course, I’ve developed a lot and learned a lot of new types of exercises, but I really have a need to practice the form on some of the newer ones.

Combination of Activity and Service:

Temberong Trip - Brunei has been an adventure for me since I arrived here. But never have I been able to have an experience like this one. 

Temberong is an area in Brunei famous for its indigenous tribe, the Iban. It’s also very well known for its lush jungle and wildlife, and the unique lifestyle therein. I had the amazing opportunity to visit, see all of the above, participate in the Iban lifestyle, and even help them out.

The trip to Temberong was long and difficult as a result of its location. To get to the village, first I went on a long bus ride to a nearby dock. Then I travelled by boat for a few hours, marvelling at the crocodiles and other animals that can be found in the river. Then we arrived at another dock nearer our location only to get on another bus before our final destination, an Iban campsite. We stopped at a local farmers market on the way for a break, giving me a chance to try local Brunei dishes and Bruneian mango.

After arriving at the campsite we took a long, difficult climb through a jungle where our guide told us all about the wildlife, traps the Iban tribe used to catch animals, and uses of wild plants. It took quite a bit of teamwork and perseverance as the Bruneian jungle is very muddy and riddled with plant life that you can get tangled up in. Very often you would be catching someone about to slip or giving words of encouragement as some people were not as used to the strenuous levels of activity we went through. Nearing the end, I realized that our group had broken into two and a significant portion of our original team was left behind, so I volunteered to run back through the jungle path and find the remainder of our group. Then I aided them and did everything I could to help them get back to the front after checking to see if all were present and whether any were injured. Fortunately I had no worries in that department and I was able to get them all out of the jungle safely.

I was astonished to see how much diversity there was from vines that could be used as a water source to bits of poisonous leaves that were used to kill fish in bulk for consumption. We heard from the Iban that there were a lot of scientific efforts to map out all the plant life in the jungle as it had major medical implications. In an anecdote we heard of somebody who got sick in the jungle and hospitals failed to treat him for months, but after a simple tea type remedy, that person was cured and no longer suffered from disease. As someone who wants to be a doctor, it had me thinking about research projects I could undertake to better humanity and possibly even discover new/easily accessible pharmaceutical compounds to treat illnesses that humanity has so far been unable to resolve.

At night I took a shower under the stars and ate a typical Iban dinner, before proceeding to sleep in a tent in the wilderness, the way the Iban may have camped after a long trek through the jungle.

The next day I had the amazing opportunity to participate in traditional Iban activities. Our first job was to catch something for us to eat that night. I spent hours enjoying myself fishing, using live bait on bamboo rods. Unfortunately, the currents were particularly strong on this day and it wasn’t possible to catch any fish. However a good friend of mine was lucky enough to catch an eel, which even the Iban thought was quite odd.

I did target practice with blowdarts as well, practicing my accuracy. In my group, I never missed and almost was always on target, except for one unfortunate time where the wind deflected my shot entirely. Traditionally the Iban would use blowdarts which are poison tipped in order to attack rival tribes or to hunt.

I also went to the Iban fields to help them harvest their crops and spent quite a while going from spot to spot looking for the indications of a ripe plant and struggling to pull out particularly deeply rooted fruits. In the end it was quite rewarding as all that natural produce went to the people of the Iban. Then we watched as they showed us how to produce bamboo chicken, a recipe of welcome borrowed from the Iban and used in many prominent Malaysian hotels and restaurants.

The Iban told us stories about headhunting, an ancient warrior practice or theirs and after a visit to the oldest lady of Brunei, she told us all about how she used to live as an Iban woman decades ago, along with her various traditions.

On the final day, I planted cuttings of plants and helped the Iban move their boats from one side of their campsite to another. This took a lot of teamwork was well as we had to coordinate our movements accordingly and bolster those who didn’t have a lot of strength.

Then we went to visit the salted egg farm that belongs to an Iban business woman. Salted eggs are a highly valuable part of Malay culture and are a traditional food I have never seen anywhere else. In the farm we saw the animals that produced the eggs and had to opportunity to discuss how it was for an indigenous lady to develop a business in a rapidly developing nation.

Then with teary goodbyes, I retreated back the way I came. I was very happy to have had the opportunity I did to help out the Iban and develop as an individual by participating in various activities. I learned quite a bit and all in all it makes me excited for my return to Canada where we are blessed to have an amazing Indigenous Community as well. I hope to learn much more about plants and their uses for modern medicine in the future as well so I can contribute to saving as many lives as I possibly can as I grow older.