#if anywhere was going to remind who i am and what i want: it's romania

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 28: In Which There Are Many Stairs to Climb

::UNDER 18? DO NOT INTERACT. This chapter contains material NOT SUITED for you::

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

"Alcina?"

The study was quiet and quite dark; only the small antique brass and jade colored stained glass lamp was illuminated as Alcina had perched at her desk.

"Of course," she smiled," the girls tell me you stopped by?"

"Yes, I was hoping to speak to you in person."

"Oh... is something the matter?" she asked feeling a little heavier.

"Well - I don't know. I..."

For Donna to hesitate was unusual to say the least. Alcina's alertness kicked into another gear as she waited silently on the other end.

"I apologize for taking action without your consent and knowledge, but I've sent Angie to Connecticut."

Ok. That wasn't entirely what she had expected to hear, but yet she had not let on any other part of this decision and she seemed to be waiting for inquiry.

"For?"

Donna sighed audibly, "I can't shake the feeling that something isn't adding up with Mother Miranda. I spoke to her on the phone tonight to requests she send her troops to patrol her properties while she was away... she declined. And while we were speaking I could have sworn I heard Salvatore in the background, but I saw him just yesterday here in the city... I hope I am mistaken, because I can't explain that possibility or how I could have misheard it."

Alcina thumbed the dark red wood of the edge of her desk as she thought on this. Moreau had a very distinct voice, and Donna had keener hearing than her own, but the coincidence would be impossible; Mother Miranda was in Romania, that was the line she was being reached at, so what could explain such a thing?

"And you sent Angie to investigate?" she asked quietly, her own mind trying to fit the mismatched puzzle pieces together.

"Yes. With the utmost secrecy."

Nodding to herself, she pursed her lips and let out a full but silent breath, "Has Heisenberg returned yet?"

"Uh - yes - tonight as scheduled," Donna responded a little confused, "why do you ask?"

"His uses, few and odd as they may be, have enough niches to come in handy. I will speak to him personally about checking the phone lines for interference, anything that might explain this."

"Thank you for hearing me out on this, I've felt perplexed and unsure of myself all night."

"You of all people should know I will heed anything and everything you tell me. Don't lose sleep over this, if there is something to be found, we will get to the bottom of it. I - I too, have had my reservations about Mother Miranda's reaction to all of this... it stays between us. Do not fret, sister, we will uncover whatever is happening, I promise you."

"Thank you," she sighed softly, "I'm so happy you're home. I trust you're feeling... better?"

Oh, well, Alcina knew that hinting tone anywhere. She was well aware Donna knew exactly where she had been and Alcina softened her snort.

"Yes, I'm feeling much, much better, if you must know. Now, off you go, it's late - almost 9 AM. Get some rest, we'll speak later."

"Good niiiight." Donna sang sweetly.

Alcina rolled her eyes and hung up the phone.

While Donna was insufferably cute, and insufferable all at the same time, Alcina couldn't corral her thoughts from running loose on what she'd just been told. She really just wanted some peace and quiet for a moment. Was that too much to ask? There was always something happening in the underground, but the happenings of late seemed far more unusual than ever before. It was once again reminding her of what life had been like when the wars were active; always something to look over ones shoulder for, unknowing who could be trusted, unsure what land mine might be stepped on inadvertently next, what fight would drop itself at ones feet at the tip of a hat. It only reinforced her desire to leave this all behind; Matriarchy, governance, control, power, peacekeeping - Alcina just wanted a life of simplicity now. A life with you and her girls. That was it, that was all.

-

Work was absolutely not going to happen today.

You hadn't slept since Alcina left and you didn't care to, and you certainly could not have cared less than to get ready and go into work. It was Thursday. It'd been a slow, uneventful week outside of the random mishappenings, and you were so caught up in Alcina being back that you could pretty much not entertain your mind with anything else.

She was back, she was home.

Not unscathed.

The visions of those scars continued to waft through your head and it made you shudder almost every time. Were you grateful you'd healed her? Absolutely. Were you still chewing on the fact she had not, and was likely not, going to tell you what happened to her? Definitely. 

And were you still tripping over the uncanny event that happened to you and your own back several nights back? One-hundred percent.

Sure. Life had gotten weird as shit since she had come into your life. You were not complaining. But your hunches had always been part of you and they had never been wrong, whatever they happened to alert you to. And there was something, something deep, hiding from you and you could feel it but you could not fucking see it. As much as you wanted to find it, figure it out, there was also something telling you it wasn't going to happen within your control. That definitely didn't help the agitation of that nagging feeling. Still, what was there for you to do?

Maybe it was the way Alcina looked at you after she healed. That lost, concerned, fleeting, calculating, what-the-fuck look in her eyes as she peered down at you... it was so short lived. But it was there. Was it really so far-fetched your blood could do that? Was that not normal? Was she just not expecting it at all for some reason?

And who or what did that to her, and what the fuck did she look like before she came back to you? You shuddered again, the heat of anger rising in you like lava thinking about whatever harmed her like that. 

You knew you couldn't stop it from happening again, or stop her from doing what she needed to do, but there was something you could do, even if it was seemingly insignificant.

Rising from the couch you headed to your bedroom to get dressed.

-

"Heisenberg."

"Chriiiiist!" he shouted, jumping back from his contraption and soldering tool, "can we put a fucking bell on you?! You'd think with your size you'd be a hell of a lot louder," he blurted flipping up his welding visor.

Alcina raised a brow at his comment and placed a hand on her hip, "oh, pardon me for interrupting your newest little tinker toy - "

"Is it not a toy!" he bit back mimicking her own flick of the wrist, "it's a - a, uhm -"

In fairness he wasn't entirely sure what to call it just yet, it was indeed a new weapon he had envisioned recently and was tirelessly working on, but trying to explain the mechanics and function was escaping him in the moment. He'd been on go-mode ever since the mutant attacks and his brain really was on overload. Karl wasn't about to be caught unprepared again.

"It's a fuck-you-very-much-mind-your-damn-business; I ain't wastin' my time trying to school you on my genius. Wha'd'you want, Lurch?"

Unamused and in a hurry, Alcina let it slide and stepped through the threshold of his shop, making sure the door was closed securely behind her as she took only a few more steps.

"Are you still familiar with the electrical wiring of the communication systems down here?"

"Yeah, why?" he asked wiping his brow with the back of his arm.

"Could you find time in your undoubtedly busy schedule to have a look at them to make sure nothing has been tampered with?"

He squinted at her, "I mean, I am awfully busy. But... I suppose I can make it happen."

"Good," she replied without missing a beat, smirking at him smugly, "please do it quietly."

"Quietly? Do you forget who you're talkin' to?"

Deadpan, Alcina remarked, "no, that's why I said it," and turned on her heels towards the door.

"Pfff, ok Addams family reject - you gunna tell me why I'm looking for said tamperings?" he called after her.

"No. Don't solder yourself to your toy. Let me know what you find."

Karl began to chuckle to himself as the flatness in her voice trailed off as she walked down the corridor, "Nice chat, vague-asaurus!" 

He was so grateful she was healed and back to her old self.

~

Alcina certainly had plenty on her mind as she waltzed her way back through the city, regarding the other vampires she passed with a returned nod, holding herself high and regal as usual, brushing off the weighty guilt that came with the knowledge that these people had no idea what had happened outside their borders; the attack upon the lycans and herself. But, how does one alert a city to such information without causing an uproar? Would the chaos be worth their awareness? Being a leader did not come at an easy price.

And then there was the issue of Mother Miranda.

And you.

You.

What you really were.

Not fully human.

It didn't matter, at least not at this time. She had to tell herself that repeatedly to alleviate the utter cacophony that ensued whenever it came up in her mind. It didn't matter what you were, what only mattered was that you were safe and loved and protected and secret. That's all.

That's all.

Alcina barely noticed the bustling of New York when she entered it. The church was a blatant barrier from the world outside that always hit her like a bag of bricks; stepping through an otherworldly threshold, yet tonight she hardly noticed. Tonight she was wrapped up in trying to return to a previous reality that was, quite clearly, unreachable. Pretending she had not almost been killed and torn to shreds and your blood being the only thing to heal her was, well, a task all on it's own. But she had to, she had to make it her reality.

Her heels clicked on the pavement and added into the instrumentation of the night music that was the liveliness of Manhattan life. She could feel the crispness of the autumn air against her face and gently began to notice everyone else bundled up in their scarves and coats and jackets, gloves, boots, and hats. The leaves had not yet begun to turn but it was not far off. Before long winter would approach and another year would come to an end. Time seemed more linear now than ever, with you in the picture. 

Time.

Time that would slip by like the stupid proverbial sands and once they sifted through the cracks, one could not get back.

While her mind tried to take a turn for the melancholy, her eyes drifted up to the very familiar apartment complex before her; the warm light of your windows aglow in the dark sky. 

She smiled.

~

You didn't feel like wasting time tonight; the realness of the unseen world around you made itself very clear to you today and several things had shifted.

The moment Alcina stepped foot through your balcony door you were shoving her against the wall.

"Draga m- "

Was all she got out before your mouth was smothering hers; desperate to steal her breath for your own as the fire inside you clawed through you, hands tugging and pulling at her outfit.

No. Wasting time by not expressing everything you felt would no longer be the norm. This was precious, she was precious, every moment you had with her was precious.

Soon the two of you were panting and whimpering as clothes were discarded completely. Hot naked flesh of yours melding into hers that was much cooler and just as soft. Neither of you made it to the bed. You slid her down the wall and tossed her to the floor with barely a breath broken apart as you coaxed her lips open with your tongue.

Alcina moaned as you crawled between her legs, the passion in you brimming to the very top, every ounce of you screaming your demand and desire. She whimpered deep and dark in her chest, gasping as your hips collided your torso with her core, moaning as your teeth grazed her neck down to her collar bones, nipping, kissing, teasing as you went.

She leaned back into the carpet and let you have your way. Each love bite left in your wake slapped awake the beast inside her, the thrill and hunger begging for release.

You wasted very little time. Slithering your way down her buxom, perfect body you perched between her thighs and dove in. Alcina moaned out as your mouth engulfed her. Your tongue ran long, slow, heavy licks up and down her folds repeatedly, relishing your favorite flavor as you moaned right back. There was nothing so satisfying as watching her writhe before you. Her chest heaving as you hit every spot, hearing her nails dig into the floor as you picked up pace just to slow down, drag it out, dangle her over the ledge before you gave her more, everything she wanted.

"Oh yes, yes draga," Alcina whined, one hand prying from the carpet to sink her fingers into your hair, "just like that."

Everything inside of you began to burn. If you didn't know any better you'd think your eyes were glowing just as Alcina's did; boring your way through her the way she did to you, fueling and filling to the brim with the sensual need to combine and mix all that was you, and all that was her, into the perfect color to paint the rest of your life with.

You hooked your arms over her hips and buried your face as deep as it could go, absorbing Alcina's glorious whimpering cries as you fucked her senseless with your tongue. Continuing to watch her quiver and squirm you couldn't help but bask in the tremble you felt in her thighs around your head, humming into her core which only egged the fluttering in her stomach on.

"Draga..." Alcina whined, grabbing at your arms held tight about her as she felt the completion coming on fast, "h'ohhh - my god!"

With the wilting tone in her voice cracking and tumbling, your name escaped her parted lips over and over until the cry of her climax pinned and finished her with passionate convulsion. She gasped and panted as you and that skilled tongue gently brought her down, the warmth spreading through her flesh like the caressing wind on a hot summer day. Alcina didn't want to open her eyes yet, still attempting to collect the pieces of her shattered consciousness as a sly smile twisted her crimson lips upwards in total satisfaction. 

There was something so comforting and immobilizing about being wrapped up in your vampires arms, sunk into your mattress together in peace and quiet. Well, mostly quiet. After the two of you had successfully worn each other out, you grabbed your phone and put on an easy listening instrumental jazz compilation you'd found on YouTube a couple days ago. It was smooth and relaxing and fit the mood perfectly. 

But, all good things have to come to and end.

"It's late, draga, I should get going."

You nuzzled your face into the crook of Alcina's neck and sighed, "what time is it?"

"2 AM. You have work in the morning..." she cooed, pressing her lips to your head, "I've stolen so much of your sleep already."

"You can't steal what doesn't want to be stolen," you grinned lifting your face to look at her.

Arching a perfect brow she traced her fingertip over your cheekbone, "well, some thief I am then - you whittle away my menacing nature too easily."

"You're only menacing trait is your wicked allure and beauty. The teeth, blood-thirst, towering height, and you know, otherwise vampiric tendencies, are just minor details at this point."

Her laugh was bliss to your ears.   "Oh draga, you are too much," Alcina laughed, delicately cupping your cheek as she kissed your lips repeatedly, "I love you."

"I love you, too.

She was dressed in no time and you hated to see it; you hoped one day in the future she wouldn't have to leave you. How that future could ever be, you weren't sure. Despite your rain cloud, you slipped on an oversized shirt and went to your bookshelf in the corner on your room and retrieved a small black box.

Alcina was ruffling her perfect black locks as you approached slowly, a bit of the inside of your lower lip between your teeth as she turned to look at you with a smile fading from her lips. 

Her eyes dropped down to the item in your palms, silently awaiting your pending explanation.

"I uhm," you sighed, thumbing the wood, "I hope this isn't super weird, but... in case something bad happens again, I want you to have this," you said, slowly handing the box over to her, "I hope it can come in handy if you're far away from me."

Confused was beyond the term. Alcina eyed you carefully before taking the box from your hands, her curiosity fully in control as she unlatched the hook at the front and opened the lid. There inside were 9, 4 inch glass vials, each with cork tops sealed with a dark purple wax. Her long fingers traced the top of one and plucked it from it's slot - whatever was inside was dark and she couldn't make it out in the low light of your room.

"It's blood," you stated softly, "my blood. Travel size. For emergencies."

The pause was bloated to put it kindly. Alcina was utterly speechless.

Her slate colored eyes flickered with an emotion you couldn't quite place, but you were standing your ground as she peered at you. 

She swallowed, "how did you... draga -"

"Don't worry, I got it done safely. There's a little vampy, goth, witchy hole in the wall shop in Queens that does it; they have medically trained and certified phlebotomists that work there. I had no idea the vampire scene was as intense as they were, but I did some research online before - "

Alcina had placed the box on the bed and had you in her clutches with her lips pressed to yours before you could finish your thought.

There was no coherent phrasing of words for her to express in this moment. Overwhelmed and stunned that you had gone to such lengths had her wholly stumped. She could not fathom one thing in her life she had done for her to deserve you and your beautiful, thoughtful soul. Fear brimmed in her belly at the whole of it; your selflessness, your little vials of blood in her possession, the possibility of someone finding them stashed in her manor, the firm knowledge of just how much you loved her and how far you were willing to go to take care of her even when you weren't near.

What could she say to this?

"You did not need to do this," Alcina whispered against your lips, still holding your face with such reverence.

"I know," you whispered back, "but I want to. I know I can't be a bigger part of your world, I can't be there to do the things I want to, I can't know what goes on, I can't go with you on missions, I can't be there when you get back... but I can at least do this. I can have some reassurance that part of me can be there if or when shit goes south."

Pressing her forehead to yours, Alcina held you there as she breathed in your calming scent, her mind rushing through a quiet chaos.

Sensing her in such befuddlement almost made you chuckle. You'd only rendered her speechless and harmless in the bedroom, so you'd chalk this up to another win.

You smiled against her and kissed her lips feather light, "I'll see you tomorrow night, yeah?"

Alcina nodded, slowly pulling back to gaze upon your beauty and wholeness. 

~

The manor was silent. 

The girls were out and Alcina stood in the middle of her room, little black box in hand.

After a moment she placed the box on her vanity and began to remove her coat. Still swimming in a deep, dark sea of muffled thoughts, Alcina stepped towards the head of her four-poster bed and grabbed at the dark wood and pulled. With her strength it took very little effort to move the giant thing away from the wall. Behind the headboard in the dark rock of the wall, was a compartment she had dug out and made herself when she was given the manor. With one strong slam of her fist, the concrete seal around it crumbled and she was able to remove the block. Inside was a few relics from her past: two black and white photos of her and the band, an emerald necklace from her grandmother, a ring and handkerchief also of her grandmothers with the Dimitrescu crest, three locks of hair from her girls tied with the finest silk thread, and Madeleine's gold locket. 

These were stored here so no one could or would ever touch them, at least, one individual in particular. Mother Miranda couldn't take from her what she didn't know existed.

Retrieving your box from the vanity she tucked it into the nook and placed the block back where it had stood. She would have to seal it at a later date.

Alcina swept up the mess from the floor, pushed her bed back into position, and sat on the edge. 

While her thoughts were pelting themselves at her like a paintball gun, she wasn't listening. But after a while she grew tired of the barrage and headed for the bathroom to draw herself a bath.

~

Central Park was completely vacant.

The sky was black and the clouds were orange, lit from below like a fire was blooming all over the city, and yet there were no flames to be seen.

The trees were dressed in the blackest shadow you'd seen, the grass was dead and crumbling beneath your feet, the plants and tree limbs swayed in a wind you couldn't feel and somehow you felt like you were slowly suffocating.

You need to move. Flee. Get out of the park.

But where were you going?

The park became entangled with the city and suddenly you weren't sure where you were. It looked familiar but the buildings stretched all the way to the sky now, the shadows seemed to be creeping through the streets ready to gobble you up, but your legs were heavy and you couldn't cover the distance fast enough.

From the darkness behind you, you could hear a woman's voice. Muted. The shouts carrying themselves sluggishly on the dense air.

You turned down another alleyway and you were back into the park. The trees now more mangled and rugged looking, the grass still as dry and brittle but longer as you trekked through.

The voice echoed still behind you and instantly you knew you needed to find Alcina. She was somewhere near, you could feel her. But then the shouts became sharper, closer, and you looked behind you to see pairs of white glowing eyes emerging from the shadows eating up the scenery behind you, running, converging.

And then you started to run.

You screamed for Alcina but you heard no sound, just a rough, hushed, bleat of a voiceless cry. 

Why couldn't you run faster?

Where was Alcina?

The trees were coming nearer and you pushed with all your might. The shrillness of the woman's scream behind you echoed louder, though, you couldn't place who it was. It wasn't Alcina, no, no that wasn't her voice at all. If it were you wouldn't be running in the opposite direction.

As you tripped and fell your way through the mangled root system of the dense forest, you could hear the rushing footsteps behind you. Again, you called for Alcina, feeling your voice desperately clawing its way out of the fog - and yet, still you could make no sound.

And then the rush and blur of bodies ran passed you. All you could make out feature wise of these blobs were the glowing white eyes. And then a scream you did know.

Alcina.

Trapped and seemingly glued to the forest floor, you were held captive and immobile as her cries echoed around you. In the rising pool of fear and rage you broke loose and clawed your way through, still no sign and no real direction where she was. 

Calling her name over and over until you felt your voiceless cries made you hoarse, winded and tired, you tumbled through a clearing to find a black mass of bodies huddled by the entrance to a cave.

'Alcina!' your voice finally rang out.

A cackle.

The mass broke apart and you were met with 4 sets of white eyes. 

Through the darkness you could see her now. You could see Alcina on the forest floor beneath them all.

Screaming now with an utter fury you've never felt before, you dug your heels into the first and lunged.

[bujorulgalben]

ooc: eve goes to romania pt.2: 2022!

i reckon we should jump right into this bc hoo wee did i ramble here. i need to write a travel log someday and publish it. that’d be fun. anyway:

let’sa go!

to preface, let me explain that i absolutely had an ulterior motive when travelling out to bucharest this time around. it was first time i travelled since the pandemic; granted, they didn’t need proof of vaccination or a covid test done prior to arrival, but i was worried that i had somehow forgotten how to go about airports and independent movement abroad. my worries weren’t justified, thankfully :)

it was my first time travelling alone. this was extremely important, as i had always planned to make my next trip to bucharest with someone else. that didn’t happen, and i had to do this now for myself. this would change my plans for the future. i had to see if i could live in bucharest, if i really, really wanted to. believe me, i was challenged on this decision a lot lol. every romanian i spoke to about this seemed very confused.

and they were lovely! my spoken romanian has absolutely decayed since my MA studies (and now i have my motivation to revise it!!) but those i spoke to were eager to humour me/let me practice. if i ever stumbled, or if they spoke too quickly (90% of the time this was the case), i knew how to ask if they spoke english. 100% of the time, the answer was yes, but if i then wanted to reply in romanian, they would continue to support me!

capital cities are never the best way to see a true reflection of a country and it’s people; i know i’d never say that londoners are a reflection of those living in manchester or brighton, for example. it’s a very different beast. thankfully, i work in london, so i know what to contend with. there’s a constant rushing, and not just on the roads. and bucharest’s roads are fast. granted, because their main roads are 3, sometimes 4 lanes wide (perfect for national parades!), the speed limit can afford to be higher. i don’t think my uber driver to the airport on my final day slowed down from 70mph, ever! he earnt that tip fair and square. nice work, teodor.

my apartment was in a communist block on one of bucharest’s busier streets, right at the top of sector five; a stone’s throw from cismigiu park in one direction, and downtown in the other. my airbnb host (another sweetheart, who gave me so many food recommendations) had warned me about the noise, but i can’t sleep in too quiet a room. i found the noise comforting. yes, even the 4am ambulance siren. i learnt that the crows of bucharest all roost in cismigiu park, as well! a cloud of black wings and cawing descended on the park at dusk, and left again at dawn, without fail.

september is still very warm in bucharest, and i foolishly packed for a british autumn. the metro stations especially were VERY warm, and i was pleasantly surprised at how spacious the stations and trains were. the map is extremely easy to follow (not the spaghetti mess that is the london underground), and there’s signs constantly telling you where to go/what platforms to go to for your stop/etc. london should take notes here.

speaking of spaghetti, i did eat a lot of pasta during my stay. i already knew that romanians are big fans of italian food and coffee, and they do it very well! my favourite restaurant in the city served the best damn calzone i’ve ever eaten; with truffle salsa and this lovely, sweet marinara sauce. the romanian gin was refreshing, and easy on the palette. otherwise, i tried to have a shot of palinca with every dinner... and had to call it quits halfway through my trip lol. i can’t keep up with the locals. i fought hard to find my favourite romanian beer in bucharest; silva blonda. pale ales are more popular in transylvania, apparently.

i drank a lot of lemonade during my stay as well; with honey and mint; which helped with the cold i caught on the flight over. romanian lemonade just hits different.

i saw plenty of gentlemen��s clubs (yes, they really were ‘men only’. i was mad.) and plenty of bars offered hookah. i didn’t try this time, as i was advised to try it with a group for my first try, but it did look fun! every big billboard ad was for a gambling site of some sort, and watching international football on tv also saw it littered with betting ads. all registered, mind you, and they need to make that very clear. small businesses have to do the same, and display certificates in their windows, i noticed. this included the ‘box shops’ stationed on busy streets and corners; many being newstands and florists. there’s a lot of florists, and young women walking around with bouquets. i’m sure you could’ve guessed that this made me incredibly happy.

i saw some beautiful roses at the botanical gardens, and heard the city stay silent for the church bells and chanting early on a sunday morning. that in itself is incredible, and hearing the services was nothing short of magical. that morning, i met up with a photographer for an airbnb experience and we clicked nearly immediately. a history student at bucharest’s university, an introvert, a cat person. we’re now mutuals on instagram, and have promised to host the other when they next visit our respective capitals. 

she was one to suggest i visited romania’s national art gallery (and prioritise that wing of the gallery over the european one) and i’m delighted that i did. she also told me to prioritise carturesti carusel; romania’s most famous bookshop, and one of the most beautiful in the world. i bought a couple of translated books; “nostalgia” by mircea cartarescu, and an anthology of poems by nichita stanescu! 

of course, i wasn’t just in bucharest, and did spend a couple of days in brasov; getting there by train from gara de nord; bucharest’s main train station. it was painless, and i wasn’t subjected to any significant delays... although i did see one delay of two hours for a train due to arrive from vienna. 

brasov looks incredibly different; a city surrounding a mountain with beautiful, colourful buildings. it was the first city i volunteered in, eight years ago, so this visit was more for nostalgia. i hiked to the top of that mountain in the morning (and found out that it was home to 9 rare species of wasp... the hard way), and stood next to the hollywood-styled sign at the top. just like i did 8 years ago.

i chatted to an american at dinner the night before (from queens, and the son of romanian immigrants, now visiting grandparents still in ro) and became fast friends with him as well! we were both eavesdropping on a tour group behind us, quietly judging our respective countrymen, and i invited him to chat once they left. his romanian was a lot better than mine. lol.

asides that, i also (finally) got myself to sinaia to see peles and pelisor castles. both are stunning, of course; something out of a fairytale. complete with the misty mountain setting, as this was the only day i had rain. themes for the architecture, inside and out, come from all over europe; but is especially obvious in the saxon and baroque influences. i had the best goulash for lunch there. the food overall on my trip was pretty great!

this trip left me physically exhausted with all the walking and hiking, i missed pearl terribly after befriending all the stray cats (and there’s a lot!), and i bought a whole bunch of goodies! a lot of milka! a well-known balkan peace offering lol.

for photos and the like, i’m going to plug my insta (wink), and encourage you to watch the story i made for my 2022 visit to ro! i got some banger photos, too, as well as some from the photoshoot i’m yet to drop. i’m pretty sorted for munday now lol.

and... yeah! thank you for reading thank you for dealing with my ooc posting i need to get to work on getting my work visa now. after another week of pto. i’m shattered.

:)

[pappydaddy]

tolerate it (p.w.)

A/N: I got tolerate it done! I have been wanting to write this one since I started this collection and I am so happy to have finished it this is one of my favourite songs from Evermore! I also somehow had this take another course while I was writing this and I accidentally connected it to another fic I am writing for this collection (evermore) so I have altered evermore's description to fit it. I just felt this chemistry as I was writing these characters and it just kinda happened. I also thew in a little easter egg relating to ivy in there - I just couldn't help myself because the opportunity was right there.

I want to let it be known that this is not Percy slander, it is just how this fic ended up. Percy is very career driven and he also cares about how he looks and his image and that is shown in this fic.

Anywho, I know there are a lot of people out there waiting on requests and they are coming, just very slowly. I have not had much time to work on writing because of school, but I will get your requests out eventually! However, I hope you lovelies can enjoy this in the meantime💛!

Paring: Percy Weasley x Fem!Reader, a bit of Charlie Weasley x fem!Reader (too much chemistry to deny honestly)

Show/Movie: Harry Potter

Not Requested

Taglist: @sarcasticallywitty15​

No Voldemort AU, no corrupt Ministry (other than everyday corruption. NOT PERCY SLANDER, JUST CHARACTERIZATION (EXPLAINED ABOVE)

Warnings: Loneliness, breaking up, sadness, angst.

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*I COULD NOT GET A GIF - I AM SORRY BUT THERE are ABSOLUTELY NO PERCY GIFS AVAILABLE TO ME😭*

The sound of silence swirled in the room with the dust that floated in the golden rays of sunlight. For something so present in her life these days, Y/N was still not used to the painful silence. She sat on the cushioned couch in Percy’s study, a book laid open on her lap, her hands folded, her back straight. She never used to sit like that, she always thought people who did look like they were always trying to hide something. But, then again, she never used to think she’d be sitting in the same room as her fiancé while feeling like she was millions of kilometres away from him. She lifted her eyes slowly, trailing over the beautifully crafted hardwood floor, over the red and gold rug (that matched the decor of the room), they danced along the dark wood of Percy’s desk. They finally stopped when they landed on his flaming red hair as it shined in the afternoon sunlight. Her head lifted as she studied him. Hunched over his papers, he scribbled furiously. “Percy, dear,” She cleared her throat when her voice came out more mousey than she expected. Percy hummed, not lifting his head from his work. “I was thinking we could go to town today, shop around for some more things for your brother’s visit?”

“Why? Charlie will be fine with everything we have in the guest room.” Percy grunted, dipping his quill in the ink-pot. Y/N pursed her lips, setting the book on the cushion beside her.

“Well, maybe we could get different soap for the ensuite? Maybe some relaxing candles, stuff so he can draw himself a bath,” She suggested, folding her hands back in her lap. “I’m sure he will be tired from coming all the way here from Romania. He’s not used to England time anymore.”

“Charlie doesn’t need all that, besides, it’s not like he’ll have time to relax. Once he’s here, we’ve got to get right to work,” He shook his head as he read over the new paper in his hands. “We’ve got lots of work to do,” He paused, his eyes finally looking at her, but only to flick over her seated form. “You would understand if you were still working.” He jabbed.

Y/N nodded, rolling her lips as she let the comment slide off her back, not thinking too much about his quip, just like she did with the others. “Well, we should still get him something nice, welcome him into our house.”

“I can’t go to town, Y/N, I have to get this done. You can go if you think it to be so important.”

“But I thought it would be nice to go together. It is a beautiful Saturday and those aren’t due for another week-“ She tried to explain, but the sound of Percy angrily throwing his quill against the table cut her off, startling her.

“I can’t just run off to town on a whim. Now if you can’t sit in here quietly then you can go read in another room or something, I don’t care what you do as long as I can get some peace and quiet.” He exploded, gesturing his hand aggressively towards the closed door to his study. She silently looked at the door.

“Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” She whispered, grabbing the book and raising from the vision, remembering the lecture Percy had given her last time she didn’t put her book back before leaving a room. On her way to the door, she gently laid the book on one of the built-in bookshelves, not even looking at it. Instead, she kept her eyes forward, not wanting to look at Percy as he bowed his head back down to scribble on the paper. The door opened with a creak as Y/N slid out into the large and empty hall. Softly, she rested her weight on the door till it shut. Heaving out a sigh, she let her head fall back against the beautifully crafted white door, the identical one beside her jiggling when the other locked into it with a click.

Living with Percy was not what she thought it would be. When she was just a naive schoolgirl, they talked of having a decent house with a cozy feel, the rooms filled with laughter and the warmth of family, nights spent by the crackling fire with hushed voices and tender touches. The memories of the daydreams she had looked like a fairytale, conjured up from the mind of a foolish girl who thought happy endings were real. Now, she was alone in this grand house, the rooms and halls feeling cold with the only sound being the echoes of her footsteps. Heaving a sigh, she pushed herself off the door and made her way to get ready to go to town.

____

The melody of classical music filled the room as it was bathed in the orange and pink hues of the setting sun. Y/N sat in the armchair by the fire, watching the flames licking the stone, the black smoke swirling up into the chimney. Percy sat in the chair across from her, a book open in his hands, his head bowed low. Many nights in the Common Room were spent like these, Percy’s nose in a book as they sat by the warm fire. It looked almost the exact same as those nights to anyone else who had witnessed them, but Y/N could tell the difference. Now, the fire felt just as cold at the space between them, gone were the soft touches, the stroke of Percy’s thumb against Y/N’s hand, the feeling of his side pressed against her side, the comfortable silence. Y/N missed it all, but the thing she missed the most were the glances that left her smiling and blushing while a storm of butterflies raged in her stomach. Now, she just sat watching him read with his head low, noticing every little thing he does and doesn’t do.

“Percy,” Charlie’s gruff voice spoke, speaking over the cracks of the fire and breaking the verbal silence. Percy looked up from his book, his eyes not even glancing at Y/N in their path to look at Charlie entering the sitting room. Y/N softly turned her head to look at Charlie who took a seat on the empty couch. “I just thought of something that we should talk about in tomorrow's meeting.” He informed him.

“Just one second, Charlie,” Percy interrupted him before he could continue, his finger in the air as he turned his eyes to Y/N sitting across from him. She already knew what he was going to say before the words tumbled out of his mouth. “Y/N, would you excuse us, we have to discuss business and you have no need to be here while we do that.” He finally spoke to her for the first time since dinner. She nodded, standing from the chair and smoothing the back of her dress.

“She doesn’t need to go, the house is far too cold for her not to be near a fire and there isn’t one made anywhere else but my room.” Charlie insisted, catching Y/N’s forearm as she went to walk by the couch, heading for the grand archway leading to the dark hall.

“Nonsense, she can make one with her wand in the bedroom,” Percy waved him off. Y/N bit her bottom lip, looking back at Percy. “What are you looking at me for? You know how to start a fire, I know you’re two years younger than me, but they still taught you the same things as they taught me in Hogwarts.”

“I know how to do it, but I can’t. My wand broke when I slipped on ice in town a couple of days ago, I haven’t been able to run to Diagon Alley to get it fixed yet, remember?” She reminded him meekly, not wanting the same reprimanding she had received when she had told him the first time. Percy tutted, rolling his eyes as he remembered, gently closing the book still in his hands and setting it beside his leg, sticking into the gap between the cushion and the armrest of the chair.

“Ah, yes, I remember now. It’s laying on your dresser snapped practically in half. How many times do I have to tell you not to take your wand when it is icy out? How many wands do you need to break before you realize that,” He lectured as if she was a child. “Very well, wait outside the doorway and I’ll come to start a fire for you.” He heaved out a sigh, beckoning her away with a flick of his hand. Nodding, she went to walk away, but Charlie had not let go of her, instead, he tightened his hold, keeping her in place.

She looked down at him, her lips parted slightly in shock as he glared at his younger brother before looking up at her. “You can just go in my room while Percy and I talk then I will come get you and we can go and start a fire for you in your room.” Charlie informed her in such a way that told her she was not going to argue with him. Nodding silently, she pulled her arm free from his now loose grip and exited the room as it fell silent with tense air between the brothers, her heels clicking on the hardwood and the cracks of the fire being the only sound.

They must have waited until they couldn’t hear her heel clicks anymore before starting to talk since she didn’t hear a single sound coming from the room as she walked down the dark hall, the only light coming from the flicking flames of the candles lining the hallway. She sighed, pushing Charlie’s door open and slipping to the room. She didn’t even notice how cold she was until she stepped into the warm room, she relaxed into the warmth, closing the door behind her to trap the heat in. Making her way over to the armchair stationed in front of the roaring fire, she watched the flames just like she had done in the other room, thinking. All she did was sit in silence, try to live alongside Percy without messing up and making him lecture her. She didn’t understand it. She couldn’t understand how this Percy was the same Percy who stayed up late in the Common Room to talk to her about the scars of her past and soothed each and every one of them, laying soft blankets over the barbed wire of her heart so she could escape and finally love.

She jumped slightly when the door creaked open. Startled, she looked up to see Charlie walking into the room, closing the door behind him again. “Sorry to startle you, I didn’t know you were so deep in thought.” Charlie apologized, sitting in the other armchair across from her.

“It is okay, Charlie,” She told him, moving to stand but he held a hand out to signal her to stop. Obeying him immediately as if he was Percy, she settled back in her chair, sitting posed with her hands folded delicately in her lap, nervous as to why he seemed so stern, assuming she was going to have to listen to another lecture. “Are we not going to start a fire in the master bedroom?” She asked quietly when he didn’t answer, only dropping his hand back to his thigh with a slap, shaking his head.

“No, not yet. I want to talk to you first.” He told her.

“Oh-” She trailed off, her eyes casting down to the rug under their feet before back up at him, confused. “About what? If it is about getting Percy to mention something in the meeting for you, he doesn’t let me talk about work with him-”

“It’s not about Percy, not entirely,” He cut her off, leaning towards her with narrowed eyes as he studied her. She gulped, leaning away, unsure of what he was doing. “You’ve changed,” He mused, leaning back in the chair after concluding his study of her, his eyes still burning into her as she shifted. She knew she changed, it was not hard to tell that she has changed. “You used to stand up for yourself, make yourself known. You were never the doting housewife type of person, but yet here you are, being treated like a child by your fiancé. Why?”

She shrugged, dropping her eyes to the floor. “People change. Percy is so mature and wise, he must be right so that means I should listen to him, he knows best.” She whispered, not believing a word she said. Percy was mature and wise, much older than her, but she knew that he was not right about how he treated her.

“I don’t believe that, but it’s late and you should get some sleep,” He stood, prompting her to stand as well, hurriedly as if she would be scolded for not being prompt enough. “I excused myself from the meeting tomorrow and I am taking you to Diagon Alley. So you have to be up, we are spending the day there and eating supper there as well, which gives you a break from the house chores and Percy commenting on how dirty the plates are or how you set the table wrong, or your cooking. Might even swing by and visit Fred and George’s shop, must have lots to talk to you about, those two.” He told her as he walked to the door, her following behind him silently.

“What about Percy, is he still holding the meeting? He must be mad about you cancelling on him.” She asked nervously as he led her through the darkened halls, the candles having been extinguished, the only light coming from the winter moonlight streaming in through the grand windows.

“He got an urgent letter from the Ministry, he had to leave immediately for an emergency, probably be gone tonight and most of tomorrow.” Charlie told her, opening her bedroom that she shared with Percy.

“I hope everything is okay, it must be very important for him to be called away at a time like this.” She commented, shivering as she stepped into the room that seemed to be even colder than the frozen hall.

“Nothing to worry too much about, I am sure it is just a vermin issue and he has to try to contact someone to tend to it. I think he muttered something about Flesh-eating slugs actually,” He didn’t even look at her as he flicked his wand at the fireplace, igniting the wood that laid stacked in it. Something about how he spoke told her that he wasn’t telling the truth and Percy hadn’t been called away, instead, having stormed off to the office. He pocketed his wand, turning to look at her as she stood in the middle of the room, the glow of the fire lightning it. “I will leave you this to sleep on,” He paused, walking to the door while still looking at her. “The sanctuary is looking for a new magizoologist with an extensive knowledge in herbology.”

____

Y/N walked out of Ollivander’s with her new wand encased safely in the box which was in a bag dangling from the crook of her elbow. Charlie walked out behind her, letting the door fall shut after they said bye to Ollivander. “Okay, now that you’ve got your wand, let’s pop into the Twin’s shop.” Charlie suggested, pointing to the brightly pained shop with the giant, animated man. She looked up as she slipped her knotted coin bag back into her pocket, taking in the shop.

“Sure I haven’t seen the shop in a while. I just never have time to come here. Not with all the chores I have to do around the house.” She shrugged, stuffing her gloved hands into the pockets of her travelling cloak.

“What on earth does my brother have you doing that takes up all your time?” Charlie questioned as they started to slowly make their way down the crowded street, taking their time and enjoying the feeling of walking through the snowy alley. Y/N shrugged again, her eyes looking down at the snow-covered cobblestone, the white fluff packed into the cracks of the cobblestone.

“I mostly clean around the house, but I have to do it a certain way, if I do not, I end up having to listen to Percy’s comments about how much he tolerates.” She told him as they neared the front door of the joke shop, Charlie pulling the door open, letting her go in first as he scoffed at her comment, but he didn’t say anything. Y/N ignored Charlie, looking around the busy story, watching as fireworks whizzed around, ducking as one came right at her head.

“Let’s see what Fred and George think of how he’s treating you,” Charlie hummed, gently leading her farther into the shop so that he could close the door, cutting the cold winter wind off. “There’s one of them now.” He pointed to the tall ginger who was talking to a young customer, nabbing a product from the top of the tall shelf. Before she could protest, Charlie was walking around her and approaching the twin with long strides.

Scurrying after him, she caught up just in time for the twin to turn around, the child scampering off elsewhere to browse. “Ah, Charlie, my dear brother. To what do we owe the pleasure of you gracing our shop too,” The twin exclaimed, a feeling of joy and fun surrounding them as they spent more time in the store. “And Y/N, the future Mrs. Percy Weasley. Good to see you, Madam.” He bowed to her extravagantly, making Y/N looked around the shop with reddened cheeks, hoping nobody saw his little show.

“Hi, George,” Y/N greeted, recognizing the voice. Appearance-wise, she had a hard time telling them apart, but as soon as they talked, she was able to pinpoint just which twin was in front of her without fail. George nodded at the greeting, standing right as Fred wandered over to the group leisurely. “Fred.” Y/N greeted him first, his hands in his pockets, making his suit jacket flare out, being a picture of laid-back.

“Good morning, Y/N,” He nodded to her before nodding to his older brother. “Charlie. What can we do for you today?” He posed the same question his twin had, looking between the pair he never thought he would see grace his shop together. Charlie shrugged, looking at the shelf next to him, poking a box.

“Just popped in to take a peek and get your opinions on a topic we were just discussing,” Charlie told them, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets, looking back to his tall brothers. “Percy.”

“And what about our dear brother?” Fred asked, rolling onto the balls of his feet then rocking back onto his heels. Y/N shook her head at Charlie, fairly annoyed with his mission. She knew everything he was saying, they were all thoughts she already held in her head, but how could she leave Percy after all the love that they held for one another. That love had to still be there, it couldn’t just disappear suddenly.

“Has Y/N changed in the past two years?” Charlie blurted out, confusing the two pranksters in front of him, making them share puzzled looks before looking at Charlie again.

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with Percy?” George wondered.

“Look, yes, I have changed, but Percy has to still love me,” She directed the comment to Charlie, leaving Fred and George to look at each other, questioning what was going on. “All that love couldn’t have just disappeared. We love each other and while life is not how I pictured it, I do not see why I have to do anything to change it. If Percy thinks life should be like that, then he must be right.” She expressed.

“Tell us, Y/N, what life had you pictured?” Charlie asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he instantly knew this would win the argument for him. Y/N shrugged, thinking, her eyes drifting around the store as she thought back to the visions she fell asleep to. The stories she thought would be a reality, but now know that they were just fairytales of a naive girl.

“I guess I always pictured Percy and I sitting on a couch in front of a warm fire, him reading a book out loud. We would share soft touches as we both relaxed after a long day at work. The house would be warm and lively, heated by our love for each other as we did daily activities together like cooking,” She paused, her eyes dancing along the ceiling as fireworks fizzled out overhead. She watched the once bright colours flicker and sputter before going out, leaving a trail of grey smoke swirling into the air. “He would do great things in the Ministry, building up the Wizarding World and I would be making strides in the Magizoologist field,” She sighed, looking back at the three men. “But I guess, somewhere along the way, now he’s building his career and I am just sitting at home, trying to make sure everything is perfect for him all the time.” She trailed off, hanging her head as she thought it through.

“Personally, I don’t see how your life now can compare to the life you pictured.” George spoke up.

“Of course it is incomparable, but life never goes as planned. What I wanted and what I am supposed to have are two very different things,” She agreed. “Besides, it’s not how the world works, I am just naive and childish, Percy tells me that all the time.” Fred shook his head, pointing between himself and his twin.

“No, no. We are childish, you were never naive and childish. You had dreams and an idea of how you wanted your life.” Fred told her, oddly wise and serious for him. George nodded along, silently agreeing. Huffing, Y/N’s tongue flicked out, swiping along her drying lips. Glancing at Charlie, she saw him looking at her, a look in his eye telling her to believe them. She found herself trusting his eyes, staying locked in his gaze until she came to her senses and darted her eyes back to the ceiling.

“It isn’t too late to have your dream life, Y/N,” Charlie spoke softly. Y/N could feel his eyes on her still, but she ignored it and continued to look at the ceiling where fireworks once were zooming around, darting towards the shelves, fizzing and sparking with beautiful colours. “You just have to talk to Percy if you always pictured him in your life. You can have the life you pictured, what you want and what you are supposed to have are not two different things.” He told her.” She listened to his words. She could do it. She could remove the painful dagger he had jabbed into her dreams and pull it out if she had to.

“I’ll talk to him.” She nodded, looking back over at Charlie who smiled at her, proud that she had finally listened. She found the corners of her lips turning up into a smile as she gazed into his eyes, feeling a weight lifting off her shoulders and chest. Just then, pops and fizzes were heard overhead, making her look up, seeing the bright colours swirling around the ceiling before each of them whizzed off elsewhere in the shop.

“Well, that means it is a new hour-” Fred started, looking up at the new fireworks speeding through the store, dodging one that almost hit him.

“Lunchtime.” George finished, also gazing at the fireworks.

“Well, we best be heading to lunch, we’ve got lots to discuss and do today,” Charlie nodded to his brothers who started a game of rock, paper, scissors to see who would take their lunch first. “I’ll see you at Y/N’s and Percy’s tomorrow night for the family dinner before I leave?” He asked them, earning nods and a frustrated grunt from Fred when George beat him in the first game.

“See you guys.” Y/N waved as they started a new round. Charlie and her turning around to make their way out of the shop, walking back out into the bitter cold. Y/N couldn’t help but let her destined conversation with Percy weigh on her mind.

____

Y/N collected the dirty plates as Percy talked to Bill about Ministry business, the others having migrated to the living room after Y/N had denied help, the only one who insisted passed her stubbornness and actually forced her to let him help was Charlie who took it upon himself to clean and put the dishes back. “Here, dear, let me take those into the kitchen for you.” Molly marched back into the dining room, hands out ready to grab the stack of dishes from Y/N.

“You do not need to help, Molly, you are our guest, I am more than capable.” She insisted politely, adding another plate to the stack. It was one of their fancier sets, not that any of their sets weren’t fancy, but these ones were the more expensive set that they used for family gatherings.

“Nonsense dear, you can’t take all of these dishes without your wand. I’ll clear the table and you can go search for it.” Molly waved her hand at the young woman, forcefully grabbing the stacks of plates from her hands.

“Did you lose your brand new wand already?” Percy asked her, cutting off his conversation once his mother was in the kitchen. Y/N looked to him, shrinking back under his judgemental gaze, folding into herself as if she was a child being scolded.

“I had it in the bedroom while I was getting ready, I left it on the bed to go into the bathroom, but it was gone when I got back,” She explained, but he just huffed, rolling his eyes at her, muttering under his breath, clearly embarrassed she had been so foolish in front of his family. “I honestly think it got wrapped up in the sheets, I am sure I will find it when it is time to go to bed.” She spoke up.

“I am very sorry for her immaturity, Bill,” Percy apologized. “Y/N, could you go wait in the kitchen while I finish up with Bill then I’ll call you back in.” He told her. Nodding, she bowed her head, walking through the doorway leading to the kitchen. Molly and Charlie looked at her, but she simply waited outside of the doorway, trying not to listen to Percy and Bill talking.

“What are you doing,” She jumped when Charlie appeared beside her, his present startling her. “Sorry,” He apologized, drying his hands on one of the dishtowels as the dishes continued to watch themselves in the sink, Molly leaving the room to get more dishes from the table. “But what are you doing?”

“Waiting for Percy to be done, he wants to talk about me losing my wand,” She told him. Charlie groaned, tossing the towel to the counter messily, giving her a look. “I know, I know,” She muttered, knowing what he was thinking. “I need to talk to him, but I am not talking to him right before a huge family dinner nor am I talking to him while you’re here.” She told him, turning around as he walked farther into the kitchen, starting to put the dishes away as they placed themselves into the rack after drying themselves.

“That means you’re going to talk to him tomorrow after I leave, right?” He asked, not noticing Fred and George walking into the kitchen in search of more food, the pair stopping to listen to the conversation.

“Yes, at some point tomorrow I will talk to him. For now, I can survive this treatment for another night, besides, I want to put the conversation off because what if it’s the end of Percy and I? Am I really ready for that possibility? What if there is still love buried under this mess?” She worried, watching as he moved through the kitchen to place the dishes back, having already figured out the layout in the short time he was there. She was amazed at how quick he was to adapt to change.

“I guess then that is the difference between the life you picture and the life you are meant to have, there are things that just do not work out because they are holding you back from your dream. If this conversation is the end of you and Percy then it is the end.” Charlie shrugged, stopping what he was doing as the dishes started to lag behind. She hummed nervously, twisting her fingers as she shifted.

“Y/N, could you come in here for a moment?” Percy called to her. With one last look shared between her and Charlie, she turned, nearly bumping into George in the process, not realizing he was in the room. He smiled down at her, moving out of her way as Fred wandered up to Charlie, patting him on his back.

“You and I aren’t that different, are we Charlie-boy? Both trying to break up engagements.” He spoke, but something told Y/N she was not meant to hear that.

“I’m not trying to break up with engagement, Fred, that’s ridiculous-” She couldn’t hear what else Charlie was saying as she walked into the dining room again, spotting Percy sitting in the same spot, his hands folded on the clean table in front of him, Molly walking into the kitchen, smiling as she passed her, clearly unaware she was going to be lectured by her son.

“Really, Percy, I know where my wand is, I just didn’t have enough time to actually look for it in the sheets.” She told him, taking a seat at the table, a few spots down the head he sat at, his cold eyes on her. She gulped, shifting in her seat as she folded her hands in her lap, angling her body to look at him better.

“You couldn’t have told me you lost your wand? I could have found it and spared us being embarrassed in front of my family,” He questioned, exasperated. “You know, I know I saw this a lot, but I really do tolerate so much from you. Please, for the love of Merlin, next time think about how we appear to others before you tell people that you lost your brand new wand. I mean, how clumsy are you? First, you break one and now you lost one.” He shook his head, standing up, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor.

“I really am sorry, Molly was asking and I couldn’t lie to her,” She insisted, standing up herself. “Where are you going, is this the end of the conversation, I don’t even get to defend myself?” She asked as he walked towards the archway leading to the hall. He paused, looking over his shoulder at her.

“I have to go do damage control so that we are not the laughing stock of the family. Why don’t you go and work on the dishes with Charlie?” He suggested in a way that told her to just listen to him. Not wanting to put him into a worse mood than he already was, she obeyed, making her way back into the kitchen where Charlie worked at putting the dishes away again, the twins had left, obviously taking the hallway back to the sitting room.

“Hey, I know this might not be the time, but I just realized that I might not be able to return for Christmas again this year so I wanted to take this opportunity to say Happy Christmas to you.” Charlie said when he heard her walking in, looking over his shoulder as he placed a glass back into its spot.

“Happy Christmas, Charlie.” She returned the festive greeting solemnly, making Charlie give her a concerned look before deciding not to ask any questions, clearly seeing that she was too wrapped up in her head to listen to him pester her. Instead, he went back to putting the dishes back, glancing at her every few minutes.

____

The house had returned to its normal silence once again, leaving Y/N sitting alone in the sitting room, waiting for Percy to get home from the Ministry. She twisted her fingers together, staring at the flames in the fireplace, heating the room. Looking up as she heard the door to their house opening, she stood, rushing through the sitting room to look out into the hall, seeing Percy shrugging off his cloak and setting his briefcase down. “Percy,” She spoke softly, gaining his attention. He hummed, looking up at her as he untied his shoes. “Could you come in here a moment, I have to talk to you about something.” She asked him rather nervously.

“Of course, just a moment while I change my shoes, I don’t want to track snow into the house,” He told her, grabbing another pair of shoes to slip on. She nodded, ducking back into the sitting room and making her way back over to the sofa, taking her spot back. The thought of this conversation being the end of her relationship with him weighed in her mind, but after spending the day all by herself for the first time in a week, she realized how it already felt that it was over between them for the longest time. She wasn’t able to think too much about it anymore as Percy walked into the room, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them, trying to warm himself up. “What do you need to talk about?” He asked her, standing in front of the fireplace, holding his hands out to it.

“I want my dream life,” She blurted out, not giving herself a chance to chicken out. Gulping, she watched as he glanced over his shoulder at her in confusion. “I want to go back to work and I want to know if you still love me.” She continued, throwing the plan she had rehearsed for this conversation out the window.

“Of course I still love you-”

“Really? Because it seems to me that I am just a burden that you tolerate and I should not just be tolerated, I should be celebrated and shown love, but all you do is make comments and roll your eyes as if I am a child,” She ranted, the words just pouring out, easing the pressure she didn’t know she had weighing down on her chest. “I want to be loved and appreciated, not banished to doorways and shooed out of rooms. I want to be able to live, I want to be relevant in someone else's life, I want to make a name for myself, not just making it into the footnotes of your success story,” She paused, looking lifting her eyes from the floor, looking at him to see him fully turned towards her, his mouth hanging open as he blinked at her. “And I so desperately want to know that there is still love between us because you were who I imagined in my perfect life. Please,” She choked on unshed tears, feeling the tell-tale lump in her throat, blocking the words from leaving her mouth. “Please tell me that this is all in my head and that there is a flame still burning in the depths of this darkness.” She pleaded, a few tears slipping down her cold cheeks.

She was silent, the only noise coming from her were the sniffles as she tried to not let out the sobs and cries she was holding back. He stayed silent as well, his eyes stuck to the floor under his feet, not wanting to meet her eyes. A sob slipped past her lips as she realized what the silence meant, but part of her didn’t want to believe it. “If you don’t tell me it is possible for us to love each other still, then I will have no problem taking this dagger you jabbed through my heart out, leaving the idea of us bleeding out on this coffee table if that meant I could have my dream life,” She was fully prepared now to leave him, to dump the weight of him off her shoulders. “Believe me, Percy Weasley, I can do it if you do not tell me that I somehow got this all wrong,” She gave him another opportunity to speak up, to fight for her, but he remained silent, still not lifting his eyes to meet her. Just then, she knew that she could not deny it anymore and her heart shattered with the force compared to the killing curse, breaking into millions of little, tiny pieces as she realized that there was no more love and he was just tolerating her to save face. “Well, I guess this belongs to you again,” She whispered, pulling the engagement ring off her finger, gently laying it on the clean coffee table, standing up. “I already had my things ready in case this happened so this is goodbye, Percy.” She kept her eyes on him, hoping that he would lift his eyes from the floor finally and tell her to stay, that he did love her still, but he didn’t. He remained just as silent and cold as the house they were in. He gave her no other choice but to walk out of the room and walk out of this life, now free from the dagger in her heart and the weight of him crushing down on her, free from him only tolerating her.

[fayemarvels]

Not quite a happy ending

Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) fled from the US to Romania and tried to live their happily ever after there. When they thought they were safe someone shows up and pulls them back to reality.

Warnings: little sad, talking about murder, bad writing,

Word count: 1,4k

! Please don't repost my work anywhere without my permission. Thank you!

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(Y/N) woke up to the sound of knocking on her front door. She sleepily shuffled to the hall, unlocked her door, and opened it. Bucky stood there in rain, with a distressed look on his face. She pulled him inside and closed the door behind him. “I’m leaving America I need to get away as fast as I can.” He said, and she tilted her head to the side. “Slow down your words mister I can’t understand anything you are saying. I am barely awake.” She mumbled and he repeated it again. “They are looking for me, and they will find me in the next few days if I don’t leave.” He rushed out and he saw her brows furrow. “I came to say goodbye. And say thank you for everything you have done. I remember almost everything thanks to you.” She smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Did you think I would let you leave without me? You are not getting rid of me.” She informed him as she walked into her bedroom. He walked behind her and watched her as she took down two duffel bags from her closet.

“I will pack my bag, and you pack some food, money, and valuables. We will sleep here this night and leave in the morning.” He nodded and rushed into her living room. She put some clothes, toiletries, and Bucky’s diary into the bag and zipped it up. She put it into the hall and walked back into the living room. “Do you know where you want to go?” he nodded his head, and she waited for his response. “Eastern Europe, somewhere there. We will take a boat from Alaska to Russia, and a train from there.” He informed her and she took a deep breath. “You can still back out.” He looked at her and she shook her head. “I promised you to stay by your side it won’t change. Plus, I’m pretty sure hydra will find out you were hiding here. And would kill me. So, I don’t have any other choice.” She chuckled and bumped her shoulder with his. “Let’s get some sleep. I don’t think we will get much of it in the next few months.” And she was right. They didn’t.

2 years later: “Bub, wake up.” She whispered into his ear and he smiled softly. It has been 2 years since they fled the states, and they couldn’t be happier. They got together, bought a small house outside a small village, and lived there in peace. “Don’t wanna.” He whined and she giggled. “It’s 10 o’clock already. We need to go to the market.” He hummed and buried his head deeper into his pillow. “They will eat all the plums, and you won’t have any if you don’t wake up.” She teased, and he turned his whole body to face her. “Alright let’s go.” He said with wide eyes and scrambled out of bed. She shook her head and stretched her limbs. “Come on (Y/N), they will eat everything!” he screamed, and she shook her head. She got dressed in a shirt and some jean suspenders and secured her hair with a hair tie. She came into their kitchen, and Bucky was already waiting for her in his day clothes. He offered her his hand, and they walked out of the house together. “Okay, so we need plums, some milk, flour, and some sunflower seeds.” (Y/N) listed the things they needed to buy. “Anything else?” she questioned and Bucky nodded his head. “We also wanted to buy some flower seeds for the front garden, and you wanted Reese’s from that expensive corner shop.” She nodded and looked to the ground disappointed. “I can’t believe how expensive they are here.” He squeezed her hand and turned his head to face her. “Well, you knew what you were giving up when you came with me.” “If you reminded me that Reese’s were one of those things, I might’ve stayed in the US.” She teased, and he tried to look offended but failed miserably. “I’m going to take milk, flour, and Reese’s and you take the sunflower seeds and plums. We will meet in front of the flower shop and choose the seeds together. Deal?” She quickly split out their tasks and Bucky hummed in agreement. When they arrived at the marketplace, they split up and went to get their items. After around 20 minutes they met in front of a small flower shop owned by a lovely old lady. They walked in and she let Bucky talk. He greeted the lady and spoke with her for a few minutes. She then pointed to a shelf with some flowers on her left. Bucky took (Y/N)’s hand and pulled her towards the shelves. “Come on let’s choose some and go home.” She nodded and looked over the pictures of flowers on the shelf. “I want some lavenders, peonies, and coneflowers.” Bucky paid for them, and they started walking back home. When their house came into view, they both noticed something wasn’t right. There was a car parked on their lawn and the door was open. Bucky pulled (Y/N) behind him and started walking towards the front door slowly. “Stay here and run if I say so.” He said to her seriously, and she could see the fear in his eyes. “I love you.” He whispered and walked into their home. He walked into their house and pulled out a gun from a drawer in the hallway. Furthermore, he loaded it and held it in front of him. When he stepped into their living room he could see a man standing in the middle of the room, looking at some photos on the walls. Bucky slowly walked closer to the man. The floor under his feet creaked and he cringed. The man in front of him turned around and his eyes went wide. “Bucky?” Bucky tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Steve?” Steve nodded and walked towards him slowly. “I am not here to hurt you I just came to talk.” He explained slowly and Bucky shook his head. “Why are you here Steve? And how did you even find me?” He questioned and put his gun down. Steve took a deep breath and started explaining. “I have some friends who have access to a lot of information. But we have to leave. They think you killed the king of Wakanda and are coming for you.” Bucky nodded and walked outside. Steve wanted to call out for him when he heard another voice. “Bucky, who is that?” Steve asked and saw a woman walking into the house. She looked at Steve confused and Bucky whispered something into her ear. She nodded and came closer to Steve. “Hi, I’m (Y/N), Bucky’s girlfriend.” She

introduced herself and laughed at Steve’s confused face. He looked at Bucky with a weird expression and wide eyes. He shook his head and introduced himself. “I’m Steve.” “Yeah, I know.” She smiled and he chuckled. “So, I’m guessing she is coming with us.” He said and (Y/N) looked at Bucky confused. “Going where? Where are we going?” Steve explained everything to her, and she got very angry. “He didn’t kill anyone! He was he the whole time!” she started, but Bucky put his palm on her mouth and shook his head. “He knows. But the people who are coming don’t. We have to leave.” She nodded and they walked outside. She turned around, looked at their house and tears welled up in her eyes. Bucky came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “I know I promised you better life here. I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you. You deserve so much better my love.” He whispered sadly and she shook her head. “The only thing I need in my life is you. We will get through this and come back home. I’m sure of it, we will have our happy ending.” She reassured him and he nodded his head. “Guys we have to go, they will be here soon,” Steve shouted from the car, and they looked at each other. ” Let’s go my love.” Bucky said and took her hand into his and squeezed tightly. They got into the car and Steve started driving away. Bucky and (Y/N) looked at their house one last time and hugged each other. They tried to reassure themselves that they will return, but they knew this is the last time they would see their house, and there was nothing they could do about it. “I will miss it.” (Y/N) whispered and Bucky looked at her with a sad look. “Me too honey, me too.” He replied as they drove further away from their beloved home.

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So, thanks for reading my work, if you enjoyed please consider reblogging and following. If you have any ideas for a fanfic, please share them with me.

If you think I could improve something about my work, warnings, or make it more inclusive somehow, please inform me.

-Faye xxx

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

Moonlight Chapter 21: Dust to Dust

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 21/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Twenty+

Chapter Twenty-Two+ >>

“Avada Kedavra!” A shock of acid green light blasted from Severus’s wand, striking its target with a sickening finality.

Bile rose in his throat as he stared down at the crumpled body of the old Muggle. He forced himself to slow his breathing as the nausea threatened to overtake him. Most of the time he was able to avoid murder. Sometimes he was even able to prevent it. Killing had never been particularly enjoyable to him, even when he had truly been what he pretended to be now. It was so wasteful.

“Finished already?” Lucius asked from the stairwell leading to the crumbling basement of the warehouse that was to be this unlucky group of Muggles’ tomb. His face was obscured by his etched silver mask, and a smaller Death Eater was on his heels. “I left that one specifically for you.”

Severus shrugged, his stomach mostly settled. “He was a good tailor. I thought he’d earned a quick death. Bella took more than a few bites out of him before you threw him down to me.”

“I think you’re getting soft, Snape,” hissed Bellatrix’s voice from behind her mask. “It’s no wonder that you are going to be left behind when…”

“Bella,” Lucius interrupted, “go upstairs and help Vincent with the rest of the mess.”

She gave Severus a final glare before flouncing away, her shoes clicking noisily on the metal staircase. Lucius continued into the basement, avoiding the heaps of rubbish littering the floor. He glanced indifferently at the corpse and prodded it with the tip of his polished shoe. Severus continued to force himself to breathe slowly as the bile rose up again, worse than before. It would not do to lose control in front of Lucius, so Severus willed himself to think of anything other than the current moment. Perhaps because he had been so stern during the last month about forgetting the scene by the Lee’s fireside, it immediately came to mind. He did not bother to question it, he merely allowed the warmth and comfort of the thought of Miranda holding the sleeping infant to flow through him. Gradually his nausea subsided, and he held onto his memory like a dragon clings to gold.

“I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that the time has come for you to deliver your little plaything to the Dark Lord,” Lucius commented.

“Has it?” Severus hoped that he sounded as bored as he meant to. He was glad that his mask covered the twitching muscle in his jaw. “I am rather busy at the moment. A jaunt to Romania to subdue her would be impractical.”

“No doubt you have your ways. And fortunately for you, you have until Thursday to complete the task.”

“Why Thursday?”

“That is my business. Your business is to do as you are told. I doubt I need to explain the consequences if you fail to do so.”

“I understand you perfectly, Lucius.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Be so good as to clean up down here before you leave. Best that this look like a Muggle crime for the time being.”

Severus inclined his head to his ambivalent friend and Lucius started back up the stairs.

He paused halfway to add, “I am sorry to deprive you of your whore and your tailor in such rapid succession.”

“Of the two, the tailor will be the more difficult to replace.”

Lucius laughed. “Truer words were never spoken. What a cold bastard you are.”

Severus waited until Lucius was gone before stooping to close Mr. Frost’s eyes. It was not lost on Severus that his neighborhood and his neighbors had been targeted tonight. He knew a warning when he saw one. Lucius must be smarting under Miranda’s humiliations of him more than Severus had thought.

Merlin, he hated his life.

*****

Miranda dismounted easily and gave Balour a firm scratch just behind his purple, scaly ears. He snorted flames and rubbed against her appreciatively. She knew now just how to lean into him so that his affection wouldn’t knock her to the ground. It offended him when she stumbled under the weight of his mighty head. Although the second task was less than a week away, she felt they were more than ready to take on the mountain.

“Thanks for the ride,” Miranda murmured.

He nodded imperiously, and she waited politely until he had lumbered off for his lunch and afternoon doze. When he was out of sight, she started down the path to the locker-rooms and her own meal. As she approached the lake, she saw Charlie and another man coming around to meet her. Even from a distance, she could make out a long white beard and brightly colored robes. Miranda furrowed her brow. What was he doing here?

“How was the ride today?” Charlie asked as they met.

“Good. I think we’re ready,” Miranda replied. “Albus, what a nice surprise. How are you?”

“Well, very well,” Albus said. “Charlie, thank you for helping me locate our wayward American. I will speak with you in your office soon.”

Charlie accepted this dismissal, although his face bespoke his curiosity, and he headed back up the path. Albus waved his hand and a pair of the rocks bordering the lake shifted into a pair of comfortable armchairs, complete with umbrellas to shade them from the noonday sun. They seated themselves and Albus produced a basket from his robes. A pair of table legs popped out of it and, when he set it on the ground between them, it opened to an inviting spread of ham, watercress, plum cake, and butterbeer.

“All this for me? What do you want?” Miranda said wryly as she helped herself to the bounty. Dragon riding did tend to give her an appetite.

“Merely a concession to the time of day,” Albus reassured her as he did the same. “You look well. I take it that the Romanian climate is agreeing with you.”

“It’s a lovely place. Although I won’t be sorry to be released from it when this is all over. I’ve never liked being trapped anywhere.”

“Trapped is such a strong word.”

“What would you call it? I’m under the equivalent of the Unbreakable Vow.” She took a sip of her butterbeer. “But if I can help those children, it’ll be worth it.”

“Yes, you are quite a helpful person, as I have seen. Even if you are also rather a headstrong one.”

“There’s good and bad in all of us. So, what’s happened? Do you need me to take another vow?”

“Not exactly.  I don’t suppose that Severus has communicated with you about recent events regarding our friend, Lucius Malfoy?”

“Friend is not the descriptor I would have chosen. And no. I actually haven’t heard all that much from Severus since I visited in May. I assumed he was busy with the end of term troubles. But I take it something else is going on?”

Albus sighed. “Plum cake is a delightful confection, is it not?”

“It is.” Miranda raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Apparently Lucius is planning some large, and presumably unpleasant event that will occur this week on Thursday. He wishes for Severus to have you on hand to bring to Tom.”

“Tom?”

“Pardon me, Tom Riddle is the true name of Lord Voldemort. At least, that is how I knew him when he was a student. Old habits die hard.”

“It’s good to know that Hogwarts turns out such promising pupils.”

“Everyone comes from somewhere. Alas, I cannot take credit for some of Tom’s more, shall we say, impressive accomplishments.”

“I assumed as much. This is the first I’ve heard about Malfoy’s plans. Why am I hearing it from you and not Severus?” The hair on the back of her neck pricked her in warning. She did not like the direction this conversation appeared to be headed.

“I believe that Severus wishes for you to remain ignorant.”

“Then how is he going to introduce me to his other boss?”

“I believe that he does not intend to do so.”

Miranda frowned. The plum cake no longer tasted quite so good, and she pushed her plate away.

“This is a test, isn’t it?” she asked.

“A test for whom?” Albus responded. His face was pleasant and inscrutable, and his tone was incongruously cheerful.

“I’m guessing it’s a test for both of us. Malfoy and the Dark Lord want proof that Severus is on their side, and you want proof that I’m on your side.”

“I’ve always thought that you were a clever young lady.”

“Thanks.” She choked down another sip of butterbeer and twirled the bottle slowly between her fingers. “If Severus doesn’t bring me to Tom, as you call him, they’re going to kill him, aren’t they?”

“That is entirely within the realm of possibility. Of course, I do understand that Severus is not the most pleasant individual and he may not have secured your loyalty to the point that you would feel the need to walk into the lion’s den for him.”

Her loyalty? Good Lord, this was not exactly the moment that Miranda wanted to contemplate what Severus meant to her. And, in any case, she wasn’t about to discuss it with Albus Dumbledore.

“Albus,” she said, letting the edge of her anger into her voice, “let’s not muddy the waters with that kind of game. It’s beneath you.”

He smiled as one would smile at a child who has said something particularly adorable, but his eyes lost their customary spark. “I thank you for the reminder, my dear. Your relationship with my spy aside, if he were to be killed it would be a gross loss for the Order. I’m certain that you realize this. His information and the information that he may be privy to in the future could be the difference between victory and defeat.”

“I know.” She blew out her breath. “Should I just go to his rooms on Thursday then?”

“That would be for the best. Then you would be in a position to adapt to whatever is required of you.”

“Fine. I’ll be there with bells on.” She stood up quickly. “Have a good day, Albus. Thanks for lunch.”

He was beside her before she could storm off, his wrinkled hand on her arm to stay her.

“Please know that I do understand what I am asking of you. If it could be any other way…”

“Then it would be another way. I guess Catalina Dragnea will have to save the children herself,” she snapped.

“Perhaps it is not quite time to give up hope. Severus is a clever man and you are extremely resilient. All may not be lost.”

“I haven’t given up yet.”

“Very good. I shall inform Severus of your arrival as soon as I have finished meeting with Charlie.”

“No. I’ll tell him. Have a safe trip home, Albus.”

She shook off his hand and stalked back towards the mountains before he could say anything further. Severus was going to hate this but, as infuriating as Albus was, she was angrier at Severus for not telling her about the problem in the first place. It was her own fault that Malfoy wanted her dead. She’d known what kind of man her former employer was when she’d baited him and beaten him all over town.

If there was a lion’s den to walk into, she and Severus were going to walk into it together.

*****

“Coffee. You do like me,” Miranda said.

It was ungodly early on Thursday morning, and she was pleased to see that Severus had thought to have breakfast ready when she arrived. His sitting room had gradually been acquiring more furniture during the time she had known him. In addition to the arm chair and desk, the space now held a sofa, and a table just large enough for two. She poured herself a cup and started buttering some toast. Severus paced with his teacup, irritably straightening his already immaculate desk and the perfectly aligned books on his shelves.

“You should eat,” she chided gently. “I get the feeling it’s going to be a long day.”

“I do not require a nursemaid,” he snapped, but he did sit down and follow her advice.

“I take it Malfoy is still being coy about his plans for tonight.”

“Unfortunately. We shall have to think on our feet.” Severus stabbed a sausage with his fork as if the entire predicament were the banger’s fault.

“Well, assuming the worst happens and I get the pleasure of meeting the Dark Lord, I’ll just taunt him until he kills me. Then you won’t have to.”

He gave her a ghost of a smile and shook his head. “I believe that now I understand how you came to destroy your potions classroom. Subtlety is not your strongest quality.”

“Do you have a better plan?”

“I should hope so.” He pulled a small round box out of his pocket and pushed it across the table to her. “Keep this with you. There is a pill inside that contains the Draught of Living Death. When we are summoned, you will conceal the pill in your mouth. When the torturing begins, break it and drink it.”

Miranda eyed the box. “This plan didn’t work so well for Romeo and Juliet.”

“That is because they involved a third party. We do not have such complications. I am certain that the Dark Lord will find it most appropriate for me to dispose of you. Then we will simply have to hide you back in Romania the best that we can.”

She pushed her food around with her fork and sighed. “Severus, I don’t think you should take this chance. I knew what I was risking when I pushed Malfoy the way I did. If you’re caught…the Order will lose one of its best assets.”

Severus set his fork down and fixed his black eyes upon her. “I told you that I would not hand you over to the Dark Lord. I will thank you for not arguing with me about it.”

Miranda returned his gaze steadily. “Were you going to tell me about what happened last week at all?”

“No.”

“So I have Albus to thank for cluing me in on everything.”

“I don’t believe that thanks are the proper sentiment for Albus’s interference.”

“Do you have anything you’d like me to do while I wait around for my impending doom?”

He sighed with resignation. “There are always flobberworms to be juiced if you wish to borrow trouble.”

“Borrowing trouble is my middle name. And I’m the world’s fastest flobberworm juicer.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“What do you think I did in detention all those years I was at Ilvermorny?”

“Ah. My sympathies to your professor.”

A bell chimed, warning that it was nearing time for classes to begin. He started for the door but, when he reached it, he stopped and returned to her side. Before she realized what he was about, he had pulled her to her feet and kissed her with a combination of tenderness and regret that made her heart ache.

“Miranda, it should not have come to this,” he said roughly.

“It hasn’t come to anything yet,” she replied, with rather more bravado than she felt. “Go teach. I’ll be here when you need me.”

He took the time to trace her cheek with his finger, and then he was gone.

*****

“Miranda, put your boots on!” Severus ordered as he burst into the sitting room around dinnertime that evening.

His tone left no room for argument, and Miranda set aside her book and silently accioed her boots before bothering to ask why.

“Quickly!” he barked.

“I’m going as fast as I can. Can’t Malfoy and the Dark Lord wait two minutes?” she asked as she tied the final knot.

“It isn’t them. Dolores took Potter and Granger into the Forbidden Forest hours ago. They never returned and you are going to help me find them.”

Without further explanation, he whirled and strode back out the door so quickly that Miranda was hard pressed to keep up. They made a beeline from the dungeon to the forest, cutting through the strange twilight shadows heedless to whether or not they were seen together. Miranda could tell by the way that his jaw muscle was twitching that her companion was in no mood for conversation, which was just as well. She needed her breath to keep up with his long strides. Although she was not a slow walker by any means, he was a head taller than she was, and by the time they were half-way across the lawn, he had broken into an outright run.

The Forbidden Forest loomed ahead of them, ominously quiet. Only a few feet into the trees it was already full dark. Without speaking, Miranda and Severus split apart, both of them stooping to study the mess of footprints marring the ground. The light was so dim that Miranda drew her wand, and the doxies flocked to her, tugging at her hair and clothing in protest of a stranger’s magic. She swatted them away and continued her search, but the battered ground was not giving up its secrets willingly.

“It looks as though the entire school has been over this patch of dirt today,” she muttered.

Severus grunted, his face drawn with worry and anger as he searched. A quarter of an hour passed and they were squatting shoulder to shoulder. He passed behind her, going over the ground that she had already covered, and she sat back on her heels. Instead of redoing the work he’d done, she let her eyes drift over the torn grass, slightly unfocused. For a time, patterns formed and faded before her until they suddenly snapped into place. She leapt forward, stopping over a trio of prints—two sets of trainers and one set of sensible heels.

“Bingo! I’ve got you. Miskawew.”

The rainbow colored light shot out of her wand, skipping over the trail and into the forest. She and Severus were hard after it, making far more noise than was prudent in their haste. The dark pressed in on them as they wove through the trees, but she refrained from casting Lumos. The creatures lurking here were sure to be more used to Severus’s magic than hers, and they could make due with the light from his wand. Best that they not draw any more attention than they were already doing.

They were both panting for breath when they halted ten minutes later in a jagged clearing. The rainbow light from the tracking spell fizzled away and Severus held his wand high as Miranda dropped down to explore the floor of the forest.

“Well?” he demanded.

“There’s too much damage to the ground,” Miranda explained, running her hands over the trampled earth. “Severus, there was a herd of centaurs here! They were everywhere. They wouldn’t have hurt the children, would they?”

“They usually leave the young in peace, but it is possible,” he replied grimly.

Miranda scoured the ground, patiently following the tangled hoof prints. The marks spiraled around and around, and it was difficult to make any sense of the stampede. Severus followed, keeping the light over her. When she reached the edge of the clearing she gasped in surprise.

“What is it?” he snapped

“There was a giant too! Good Lord, what goes on in these woods?” she breathed.

“They are forbidden for a reason.”

“So I see. And I had thought that Bigfoot was trouble.”

“Bigfoot?”

“Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”

The height difference between the forest floor and the giant’s footprint made it easy to distinguish, but there were still a host of prints littering each one. She searched methodically, hoping that she would not miss a trainer among the hooves. Severus’s eyes darted about the darkness, vigilant for centaurs or anything worse as he lit her way. She greatly appreciated that he held his impatience in check, but she knew that they were losing time. Wherever the children were, it was almost certain that they were in some sort of trouble.

“I see them!” she said at last. “Miskawew.”

The rainbow light took off again, and they ran after it. Miranda was starting to wish that she’d brought a broom after all, when the spell circled a new clearing and faded away. They began their tedious search again and, before long, their patience was finally rewarded.

“I see Potter and Granger, but Umbridge is gone.”

“She is not important. Where did they go?”

“They were joined by three, no, four other people. They look lighter than adults, but not by much. Miskawew.”

“I suspect their little friends must have escaped Dolores’s office,” he said irritably, watching the tracking spell skip between the twisted trees. “I shall have to see what damage they did to the members of my house when we return to the castle.”

The rainbow light circled the clearing twice and disappeared.

“What does that mean?” he snapped.

“It means they didn’t leave the clearing. Not on foot anyway.”

“Brooms then.”

“I’m not sure of that.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she traced one of the teenager’s footprints. While she didn’t think that they were deep enough to suggest that their owners had been carrying anything beyond wands, it made more sense that they would have gone off on brooms than anything else. She followed the tracks around the clearing once, twice, coming to no satisfactory conclusion. On the third circuit, her stomach lurched as she caught a whiff of something terribly familiar. She dropped to her knees, burying her hands in the earth and bringing a handful of dirt to her nose. Myrrh. Tentatively, she touched the tip of her tongue to the dirt in her hands. The taste of blood and aloe was unmistakable, and she could not stop the image of her dearly departed from flashing before her eyes.

“Thestrals,” she murmured. “There were thestrals here too.”

Now that she knew what she was looking for, the flickering tracks of the ghostly creatures were obvious. She could see where they and the children had come together, and she could see where the children’s footprints had disappeared. There was a clear depression where the thestrals had pushed off the ground to gain the air.

“The children rode the thestrals out of the forest,” she said, astonished.

“That’s impossible!” he protested, pulling a mirror out of his pocket, even as he denied the reality of the situation.

“That’s what happened. I’m sure of it. But where would they have gone?”

He didn’t answer her, his attention was on the face in the mirror.

“Albus,” he snapped, “Potter has gone to the Department of Mysteries.”

*****

Waiting was the worst part of any hunt. It made perfect sense that Severus could not possibly risk his cover by joining the Order at the Ministry, but staying behind might well drive the man insane. After the few moments it had taken him to disperse Bat Boogey Hexes and give his students a dressing down for allowing the missing members of the DA to escape, there had been nothing left to do but watch the minutes turn into hours. In an attempt to pass the time, Severus had decided it was necessary to undertake the annual purge and deep clean of the Potions room and supply closet. Miranda hadn’t argued with him, she had simply rolled up her sleeves and started scrubbing. Every half hour or so Severus would break something in the closet and swear under his breath. She wisely let him be.

Sometime in the small hours of the morning, she gave in to her rumbling stomach and excused herself to the kitchens. He didn’t acknowledge her errand, but she did take the trouble of bringing back a tray of roast beef sandwiches and a pot of tea for him. She set the sustenance on his desk, put a warming charm on the teapot, and went back to scouring cauldrons. The smell of the tea wafted through the room, drawing him out of the closet to irritably partake of it.

“It must have taken them hours to fly from here to London,” Miranda observed calmly. “There’s every chance that the Order was able to get to the Ministry in time to help.”

“I’m aware of that,” he replied tersely.

“This must be the big event that Malfoy was talking about.”

“Obviously.”

“Look, it’s not my fault that Potter and the others decided to go out on heroics. You don’t have to be sarcastic with me.”

Severus glared at her and opened his mouth to retort, but she never heard what his caustic wit had devised for her, due to some obnoxiously loud singing that began that moment in the hallway.

“Severus, Severus, Severus Snape! Looks like he’s dressed in electrical tape! His nose is an uncircumscribable shape! Severus, Severus, Severus Snape!”

“Peeves!” Severus roared, setting down his cup with a rattle and storming out the door after the naughty poltergeist.

Miranda laughed out loud, but she managed to get herself back under control by the time Severus returned. From the way he was fuming, it appeared that he had not managed to catch his tormentor.

It was impossible to resist. “Dare I ask the provenance of that ditty?”

He answered her with a black glare, but the laugh had rid her of her irritation. She glided over to him and traced his nose with the tip of her finger.

“I think your nose is perfectly circumscribable. It’s an aquiline nose, in fact. You probably have Roman ancestors lurking in your family tree somewhere,” she commented, placing a kiss on the end of his maligned facial feature.

He did not smile, but he did stop glaring and went back to his tea and sandwich. She curled up in his desk chair, tucking her legs under her and suppressing a yawn and watching him pace as he ate.

“This is exactly the sort of self-aggrandizing stunt I would expect from Potter. I should have known that he would not allow his betters to deal with matters,” he said bitterly between bites.

“From what you said earlier, the boy thought that his godfather was being tortured. I can see why he would feel compelled to do something.”

“He should have left it in my hands.”

She shrugged. “In his place, I would have done the same thing.”

“Merlin, woman. I should hate to think you capable of such stupidity.”

“I think we’re all liable to do stupid things when someone we care about is in trouble. Why do you think I’m here now?”

The change in his countenance at that observation was something remarkable. The angry mask fell away to display the fear and anguish that had been lurking beneath all night, and he turned away from her, leaning heavily on the doorframe of the supply closet.

“I haven’t been summoned yet. There is still time for you to leave.”

“And miss my chance to play Juliet? I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”

“Be serious, Miranda. You know as well as I do that this plan is foolhardy at best.”

She contemplated his taut shoulders and rigid back. It had been longer than she could remember since she had thought about the future, and she’d been careful not to think about the startling revelation that he’d considered with pleasure the prospect of them having children together someday. It was entirely possible that her future would end tonight. But she couldn’t bring herself to be sorry that she had met her fascinating, infuriating lover. And she wasn’t sorry that she was with him now.

Pulling herself up from his chair, she crossed the room to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He tensed under her touch, but she left her hand where it was.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly. “I trust you.”

He froze for a moment at her words. Then a shudder went through his body, and he turned to her, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. She wasn’t sure exactly why, but she had the distinct feeling that she’d said something exactly right.

“Whatever else might be said about Peeves, he does think of catchy tunes,” Albus said as he entered the potions room, humming the ghost’s most recent song.

“Albus! What has happened?” Severus demanded. His mask was firmly back in place, and he released Miranda from his arms, stepping away from her.

“Is everyone all right?” she demanded at the same time.

Albus held up his hands, and Miranda could see that they were shaking slightly.

“All in good time. I only have a moment, as this is one of many meetings I must attend this morning. In short, Harry and the rest of the children are all fine. Lucius and his friends have been arrested and taken to Azkaban, all except for Tom and Bellatrix, both of whom managed to escape. Cornelius cannot deny reality any longer and will be publicly announcing the state of things shortly. And the Order came through mostly unscathed, save for one.” He paused and swallowed before continuing. “Sirius Black did not survive the battle.”

Miranda crossed herself automatically. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Not as sorry as Harry is.”

“That poor boy.”

“Yes, Harry has been given more to bear than a child of his age should be given and I must soon add to the burden.” Albus mustered a smile that did not reach his eyes. “But do try to take some rest now. Severus, I suspect that none of your students will object to a free hour today in lieu of a potions lesson. Please join me this afternoon so we can discuss the day’s events more thoroughly.”

“That is, assuming Miranda and I are not summoned in the meantime,” Severus remarked angrily. “The Dark Lord will be furious with Lucius’s failure.”

Albus’s body seemed bent with exhaustion. “All the more reason for you both to rest while you can.”

With that, Albus withdrew before either Severus or Miranda could say anything further. When the older wizard was gone, Severus reached over to take Miranda’s hand, but absently, as though he were not quite aware of what he was doing.

“I will say that I could use a nap at least,” Miranda said. “Should we go to your rooms while there’s still the opportunity to do so?”

“Actually,” Severus said slowly, “I was thinking that a walk in the downs by your cabin would be a more effective aid to composing myself for sleep, if that is not disagreeable to you.”

“And watch the sun come up over the Channel?” she asked with a tremulous smile. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my last hours on earth.”

*****

Friday afternoon found Miranda only mildly refreshed as she attempted to sort though the various stacks of papers scattered throughout the cabin. This was one of her least favorite chores, but she’d already cleaned everything that could be cleaned and she was in no state to be distracted by a novel. Severus had been in a foul mood when he’d left an hour ago to see Albus and she wasn’t sorry to miss that meeting. As the day dragged on though, her anticipation of being summoned grew exponentially. She almost wished that the Dark Lord would just call them already and get it over with.

A ping sounded in her ear and she jumped involuntarily as she felt the prick of the wards tripping. Her wand was in her hand in an instant, but when she saw who it was that had disturbed her, she threw open the door happily.

“Aaron! What brings you here?” she asked.

Aaron embraced her and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I tried to get you through Charlie Weasley, but he said you were here. I thought I’d take the chance that you were home and not at Severus’s.”

“Severus is in a meeting with Albus, but he’ll be back later,” she explained as Aaron settled himself on the sofa. Just having her friend nearby put her at ease, and she filled the kettle, setting it boiling with a charm. “That still doesn’t answer my question. Are Rachel and Maggie alright?”

“They’re just fine. In fact, why don’t you and Severus come by for dinner, we’d love to see you. You won’t believe how big Maggie’s got since you saw her last.”

“It’s a deal, but what’s going on?”

“Robert just had a hell of a meeting with Cornelius Fudge. Thought you’d like to know about it.”

“Let me guess. Fudge finally admitted that Voldemort is back?”

“You are always stealing my thunder, woman,” Aaron complained good-humoredly.

“Sorry. It’s a specialty.” When the tea was black enough, she started pouring sugar into Aaron’s glass, stopping when she’d added two spoonfuls more than David had thought perfect. When the tea had submitted to the invasion of the sugar, she cast another charm to chill it to cellar temperature. She didn’t care much for sweet tea herself, but she had learned to make it for David in a fit of teenage affection.

“How did you know about it? Don’t tell me you were at the battle?” he asked, taking the glass she offered.

“No, I was at Hogwarts. But I did help Severus figure out that Harry Potter had gone off to the Ministry. And Severus got the Order to the Ministry in time for there to be a battle instead of a slaughter.”

“I’ll drink to that. And did you also hear that Lucius Malfoy is snug in prison as we speak?”

“I did. Good riddance.”

“Agreed. I feel bad for Narcissa though. She deserves better. And there’s that kid of his too. I can’t imagine what it’d be like being brought up by a man with that kind of sick view of the world. You’d have to be crazier than an outhouse rat to want to join the Death Eaters.”

Miranda almost choked on her tea, but she covered it with a smile. “I don’t know. People join extremist groups for all sorts of reasons.”

“They join them for a few reasons, all of them bad. And I’d find it hard to believe that they’d ever really get over it, even if they learned to act housebroken later. Look at Lucius.”

“Point taken.” She’d been fairly certain that keeping Severus’s former loyalties to herself was a good idea, and she was glad that she’d listened to that instinct. “Did you just come to gloat together?”

“Pretty much. And for your sweet tea. Rachel’s never been able to get it right. She thinks sugar and tea together are an abomination.” He finished his glass and started for the door. “I’ve got to head back to the Embassy, but I’ll see you and the fella later. Do you have any idea how much longer you’re going to be on this Romanian assignment?”

“I should be able to come back in October. Why do you ask?”

“Robert wanted to know. He’s got some ideas cooking and I expect he’ll want you to be part of it.”

“Do I want to be part of it?”

“With Robert, it can be hard to tell. But he’s at least worth listening to.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. See you soon.”

She kissed his cheek and shut the door after him. Severus was probably going to complain about going out, but she thought it would be better than staying in and driving each other crazy while they waited for her doom. If the Dark Lord was going to kill her in the next twenty-four hours, she’d rather spend some of them pleasantly.

*****

The wild metal knocker of St. Matilda’s seemed to throb with life as Miranda pulled open the creaking door later that night. Dinner had been a welcome diversion, but she knew she was far too wired to go home yet. When her walk with Severus had taken them past the church that had witnessed such happiness the month before, she felt compelled to go in.

“Thanks for agreeing to stop in,” she said as they crossed the threshold. He grunted noncommittally and she left him to pace the back of the church alone.

Ever since she had been a little girl, walking into a church at night had sent a thrill of anticipation down her spine. Her brothers had not been shy about telling ghost stories to their baby sister, and more than one story had involved the spirits that supposedly haunted such sanctuaries. Upon entering the magical world, Miranda had met more than her share of ghosts, most of whom were perfectly decent folk. But something about encountering a ghost in a church still struck her as different. It was as though the veil between the worlds were thinner here, and legions of spirits and other beings were watching and whispering just beyond it. As she drifted up the aisle lit only by flickering candles, she felt that at any moment Sirius Black himself might appear from behind a pillar and give her his hand.

Her rambling led her past sober statues in their lonely alcoves until, near the transept, she found the perfect spot. There, set apart from the others, sat a charming carving of a young woman holding her laughing Son. Unlike graver representations of the Holy Child, Miranda was drawn to this playful moment and the honesty of the amused and exhausted face of the Virgin. She dropped a coin in the waiting box, lit a candle on the rack of sentinels sending prayers up to heaven, and knelt on the prie-dieu before the statue with her beads in her hand. Although she was not consistent with her prayers, she did try to pray them with her whole heart when she took the trouble.

Most of her thoughts tonight were on the late Sirius Black. Severus might be convinced that Black was the worst creature ever to crawl the face of the earth, but Miranda felt oddly connected to the unfortunate man. She’d spent almost a year trying to protect Black by pretending to work for his enemies. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had thought that they would meet someday and laugh over her charade of a hunt like old friends. And the idea that he had left behind a lonely boy who had known so much loss already tugged at her heart.

As the smooth beads ran through her fingers, other faces appeared, calling for their own attention. Columba and David were never far from her mind when she thought of the dead, and she spared prayers for them even though she presumed that they didn’t really need them. A gust of wind blew through the church, making the candles sputter. She shivered and the superstitious thought occurred to her that death and sorrows come in threes. As the candle flames righted themselves from the assaulting breeze, she began fervently and selfishly praying that her Englishman was not going to be one of those three. This intention was on her heart until she finished the round and rose to join him and say good night to the church and its secrets.

“Are you quite finished?” Severus asked when she fell in next him.

“I think so,” she replied, her mind still on the living and the dead.

He shook his head at her. “I have no idea why you insisted on coming here.”

She shrugged absently. “I guess I wanted to say thank you that I’m still alive.”

“Those thanks may be premature.”

“Maybe. But maybe not. And I had a few souls on my mind that I thought could use a word.”

He smirked as they walked out of the church into the warm June night. The streetlights obscured all but the brightest stars and the light of the crescent moon was feeble in comparison to them.

“For a woman as intelligent as you are, I find it astonishing that you can be so superstitious,” he observed.

“I wouldn’t complain if I were you. You are one of the souls I mentioned. If you don’t need prayers, I don’t know who does.”

She was certain that he would have a snide remark to give her in return, and she was surprised when he took her hand instead and pressed his lips to it.

“I have never complained about you wasting time on me before. Far be it for me to do so now.”

*****

An unceremonious crack broke the quiet of the woods, sending birds shrieking into the air. Severus stumbled, caught his balance on the trunk of one of the trees, and sank down to the ground, leaning his back against the rough bark. He hated apparating that soon after enduring the Cruciatus, but he would rather risk splinching himself than stay a moment longer than necessary in the Dark Lord’s presence. The man was a hyena. If he scented weakness, he would attack without mercy.

With a shaking hand, Severus fished the cigarette case out of his robes. He dropped it more than once before he managed to extract a cigarette and light it. One drag. Two drags. The smoke filled his lungs and the magic spread through his body, soothing the pain. The heat was unusually welcome to him, warming him after the chilling effects of the curse. For a long while he simply sat and smoked, thinking of nothing at all.

Presently the cigarette case on his knee reminded him of his Barbarian. He had promised to inform her if the Dark Lord called him after her return to Romania, but he was tempted to let it be. All she could do now was worry.

The cigarette kept him company as he deliberated. In the end though, a promise was a promise, and he took pains never to make them idly.

I HAVE BEEN TO SEE THE DARK LORD His fingers were slow at tapping, but he managed.

ARE YOU ALRIGHT was the instant reply.

YES THE CRUCIATUS WAS LACKLUSTER TODAY HE MUST HAVE SPENT HIMSELF ON BELLA

WHEN DID HE CALL YOU

AN HOUR AFTER YOU LEFT

I AM SORRY I WAS NOT THERE

DO NOT BE SORRY HE DID NOT MENTION YOU AT ALL I THINK WE MAY HOPE LUCIUS TOOK HIS PLAN TO MURDER YOU TO AZKABAN WITH HIM

THANK HEAVEN FOR SMALL MERCIES ARE YOU SURE YOU ARE ALRIGHT

He shifted against the tree, trying fruitlessly to find a comfortable position. YES I HAVE THE CIGARETTES AND IT IS NEAR ENOUGH TO EVENING THAT I WILL USE THE OCCASION AS AN EXCUSE TO MAKE UP FOR LOST SLEEP

YOU WILL EAT SOMETHING BEFORE YOU GO TO SLEEP RIGHT IF ONLY FOR MY SANITY

He snorted, but capitulated. I SUPPOSE BUT ONLY FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR SANITY THE LAST THING I NEED IS A MAD LOVER

YOU ARE TOO GOOD

DO YOU HAVE SUFFICIENT TIME TO FINISH PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEXT TASK

I AM READY DO NOT WORRY ABOUT THAT JUST WISH ME LUCK

He was worried, but not because he doubted her abilities. YOU DO NOT REQUIRE LUCK YOU REQUIRE SKILL WHICH YOU HAVE

THANK YOU I WILL LET YOU KNOW HOW IT GOES

YES DO

He hauled himself to his feet and set off towards the castle, moving at a slow but determined pace. The pains he had taken during the previous month to put Miranda out of his mind proved useless now, and his thoughts were full of her. Trust was a gift that Severus found he prized above all others. It was a gift that he had rarely been given and a gift that he had been known to mismanage when it had been bestowed. He had neither expected nor hoped to receive such a gift from Miranda, and it had startled him as much as it had warmed him when she’d presented it to him with no questions or reserve.

As unexpected as it was, he found he wanted it the way he wanted air to breathe.

*****

End Notes:

Many, many thanks to Potionspartner for beta-ing this chapter and saving me from an enormous blunder!

I think that Thestrals would smell and (shudder) taste differently to different people, based on their experience and beliefs.

Peeves’s song was written by my husband, Mr. Zingarella. It was featured in my one shot, Mairi’s Ghost--check it out if you’d like to know the whole story.

The term “uncircumscribable” means “not able to be circumscribed” or “not able to draw a circle around.” It was used during the debates in the Eastern Church about whether or not God could be depicted in icons. The iconoclasts argued that God was “uncircumscribable,” or that one could not depict Him in icons, and the iconodules, argued that He could be depicted, most often as the Ancient of Days. Was that too much information? Anyway, Peeves is just using that fancy word here to make fun of Severus’s nose.

Miranda is praying the rosary with her beads. Catholics do all kinds of things for the dead.

Churches are totally haunted, but only by souls looking for prayers.

*****

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Twenty+

Chapter Twenty-two+ >>

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2018 Preshow #38 & #37

38. ROMANIA

You know what this contest really could need? A happy, upbeat, lightweight anthem celebrating life. A Navi or a Zoë Straub if you will. Well, fear not because Romania gave us FELI:

So fun, so fresh, so empowering, DEFINITELY 100% winning the Romanian selection and Eurovision Prop- oh wait Romania selected The Humans, nevermind. :-/

So instead of the funcracker we could have gotten, Romania provided this depressing rockballad. Instead of fun, it’s SERIOUS. Instead of fresh, it’s Dated. instead of empowering it’s deflating.

Now, I personally don’t *dislike* "Goodbye” (though I’m reserving the right of doing so if it advances), mostly because I don’t have the energy for it. It’s an annoying charity ballad (”why don’t you see the joy in all the small things people share” um because killjoys like you keep winning national selections? Get off the high horse, lady) which then transposes into a tepid rock song. It never goes anywhere. How it ever won a selection, even a crappy one like Romania’s is beyond me (UGH again I’m reminded how robbed Feli was. Perhaps i *DO* dislike this song after all. Fuckin’ Romania :-/)

Qualification Odds: Low

The second semifinal is beyond predictability, so I’m just heading down the road of least resistance: The Scandinavian block + Netherlands qualify, as do all the usual suspects: Poland, Australia, Russia, Serbia, Ukraine and finally, Romania. I personally do not *believe* these are the 10 qualifiers (Eurovision is never this predictable), but I’m just assuming a worst case scenario here.

Realistically speaking though, Romania should be dead. (and I would consider them toast if not for the fact that this was Romania. If Georgia or Slovenia had this entry, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion). Who on earth would vote for it? Moldova and Italy would, obviously, but it remains to be seen if the rest of Europe will care.

Jury or Televote: Televote. Romania is NOT a jury country. I don’t necessarily believe “Goodbye” will bomb with juries, like “Yodel It” and “It’s my life” did, but I doubt it will be in their top 10 regardless. Romania might just barely be top 10 with the audience though...

Projected Placement: 8th-13th in the Semifinal, 15th-20th in the final.

37. UNITED KINGDOM

*exasperated sigh*

SuRie really puts me in a bind here. On one hand, she seems like a really fun person to be around and I WANT to like her. Enjoy this screencap I made when Ireland gave their jury 12 to Blanche last year:

On the other hand, “Storm”. I like the chorus well enough (it’s quite catchy), but its big issue has always been the LAMENESS of the verses. “Hey, hey mother am I making you proud”- no, gtfo of my Eurovision Song Contest with that clichemantronic, badly-written whining, please.

So obviously a revamp was promised and what we got was ... more instrumentation in the verses lol. Hardly a revamp. What they should have done was drop the verses entirely and rewrite them, so they don’t sound like a fanfiction audiobook.

And so here we are, at #37 in this ranking. I want to like SuRie because she seems fun and I do take personality into account when deciding on my ranking, but she’s so severely entrenched within the Levina Zone that I just can’t be half-assed to try. This song is going to bomb.

Jury or Televote? Jury. Nobody will vote for it. Like, it will get as many televote points as Manel got (all from Ireland). The “bulk” (if you can call it that way) of SuRie’s points will come from the juries, though it begs the question whether they would have “Storm” in their top 10s in a year this competitive...

Projected Placement: 22nd-26th in the finale.

The Ranking So Far:

[pagesoflauren]

A Thousand Years (vampire!Jack x reader AU) - Part 10

Part 9 Masterlist

Jack and Y/N drive to her parents’ house as the sun sets on her last day of finals. The backseat is stocked with presents for all of Y/N’s relatives that he doesn’t know, with suitcases for the next two weeks in the trunk. They had given Ash and Garrett a key to the house to check on Socks and fill his food bowl for him. “Just don’t move in,” Jack said.“You have a fluffy, sassy black cat,” Ash replied, “I make no promises.”

They arrive a little before midnight, two days before Christmas.

“Oh thank you for letting us send the presents to your house,” Y/N’s mum gushes, “the little ones have been snooping about trying to find them. They’ll be thrilled when they’re finally under the tree.”

Her parents help them unload the car before pulling Y/N aside while Jack carries their suitcases upstairs. “When you tell everyone about Jack, please do it delicately.” “What do you mean?” “There’s just…I don’t know exactly what everyone’s opinions on vampires are. Some people might be open, but I’m not so sure about your nan and aunties.” “But papa fought with them in the war, Jack was a spitfire pilot like him.” “Darling, I know, but…you have to understand there’s still a stigma about them.” “Well, maybe you can tell them? Kinda hint at it and if they don’t catch on then I can tell them? He hunted last week so he’s not hungry. And-and he doesn’t hunt people, just the ones who are really violent and attack others. He’s not gonna hurt anyone, especially the kids. They’ll love him, I’m sure.”

Y/N’s sudden worry catches her mum’s attention, who works diligently to calm her. “No, darling I know. He’s a lovely man and he just adores you so much. I’m sure they’ll come around, like your father.” “Has he, though?” Her mum stammers out her response, “Well, sort of. Just give it time.” “How much? It’s been over a year.” “He just worries about you.” “And you don’t?” “I do, but not on the same level as him. I think after you told us about Jack’s friend he’s just worried you’ll do the same. Leave and never come back.” “Mum, I’m sticking around whether you want me to or not. Trust me. And I’m not going anywhere that you can’t get to me or I can’t come home easily.”

They laugh together, her mum pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Alright darling, best get some sleep. The next few days are going to be a little hectic.”

Y/N goes upstairs and finds Jack waiting in the doorway of her bedroom, leaning against the frame. “Hey,” she says as she approaches him. “You think they’ll like me?” “Of course, they just need to get to know you. And you have to show them how wonderful you are,” she says, pressing kisses to his cheek, “I’m sure you can do that.”

“Let’s bring some light into this house, why are all your curtains drawn?” Y/N’s Aunt Sharon asks the next morning as she arrives. Her mother hurries to shut the curtain again, clamping it shut with a binder clip.

“We can’t have too much light in here for the next few days,” she hushes to the room, catching everyone’s attention. “Why ever not?” “Y/N’s new boyfriend…he’s a bit…um…” “Oh, has he got light sensitivity in his eyes?” Aunt Clara asks, almost ironically. Her name does mean “light,” after all.

“Yes, a bit.” “Oh, that’s not a problem, a little sunlight won’t kill him.” “I’m not too sure about that, loves,” her mother says, “I’d rather be on the safe side.”

She continues shutting and clipping the curtains together, limiting the sunlight drastically and turning on the lights.

“This is quite strange,” Y/N’s nan states. “Just, something to get used to, don’t worry,” her father brushes it off, waving his hand in the air as if to wipe away the idea form everyone’s mind. “Now, shall we get started on breakfast?”

By the time Y/N wakes up, Jack is pacing the floor, hearing the sounds of her family downstairs. She sits up and grabs his hand, pulling him to sit on the bed. “Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.” “You sure we can’t just go home and celebrate on our own?” “Yes, because the sun’s up. Don’t need you dying on me now.” “I can’t just stay up here?” “Mum’s already told them all about you. I’m sure my cousins really want to meet you, too.” “Well, maybe we can—“ “No. Come on. Come have breakfast with me. We don’t even have to sit in the kitchen, we can sit on the couch like we’re at home.” He inhales deeply before nodding. “Okay.”

As they come down the stairs, Jack smiles to himself at the fact that Y/N’s mum had clipped the curtains shut. Before he can thank her, a group of younger…humans…are running towards them calling her name.

“Y/N!!!” they all chorus. “Hi guys!” she says, running the rest of the way down the stairs and getting engulfed in a group hug.

Jack watches lovingly, remembering his dream about her before he feels someone pull at his pant leg. He looks down and sees a little boy, probably the age of four holding his arms up. He has bright green eyes that vaguely remind him of Socks and he smiles as he picks him up to settle him on his hip. “Good morning,” he greets the child. “Hello. I’m Adrian.” “Nice to meet you, Adrian. I’m Jack.” “Hi Jack. You’re cold,” he observes, pressing his hands into various places, testing his temperature. “You’re cold all over. Did auntie Y/N take all the blankets last night and that’s why you’re cold?” “No,” he laughs, “Just naturally this way.”

Suddenly there’s a cacophony of older women and men swarming them and Y/N’s introducing everyone to Jack.

“Aunt Sharon her husband Dominic, Aunt Clara and her wife Helen, Aunt Toni and her husband Henry, that’s my nan, and there’s Aunt Julia and her husband Benjamin. And that’s my older cousin Jenny and her husband Sam.” She begins introducing her cousins, bopping each of them on the heads to point them out, “This is Timmy, Tracy, Gavin, Henry Jr., Veronica, Mars, you’re carrying Adrian, that’s Emma and her sister Evie and their brother Walter.”

It’s a blur of names and shaking hands, but Jack’s sure he’s got the names down. “Come get some tea, young man, your hands are freezing,” Uncle Dominic says. “Oh, Jack doesn’t drink tea,” Y/N says. “Coffee?”

She shakes her head, walking over to the counter to make herself a plate and her relatives close in on him more. “Wait, Y/N, where are you going, don’t leave me!” he shouts quietly. He’s about to follow her when he feels a hand on his bicep. “Well, you must be eating something,” Aunt Sharon asks as she squeezes his bicep, “You’re in shape!” “Oh, that’s just…genes and stuff,” he says waving his hand, still balancing Adrian in his arms. “You’re such a lovely young man,” Y/N’s nan says. “Oh thank you, but only half of that statement is true,” he laughs.

He suddenly sees gears turning in their heads and Y/N’s back at his side.

“He is lovely, thought isn’t he?” “Adrian, come to mummy, darling,” Jenny says with some urgency, holding her arms out for her son. He shakes his head, tightening his arms around Jack’s neck. “Go on, Adrian, your mum wants you,” Jack says, gently prying his arms loose and handing him to his mother. She takes her child quickly, holding him so that she can shield him with her body.

“Are you a vampire?” Timmy practically blurts out.

There’s a moment of tense silence, and Jack does something he never thought he’d be able to do. He looks at his mother for all intents and purposes, Y/N’s mum, and asks for a signal of what to do.

She makes a motion that looks like a shrug.

“I am, yeah,” Jack says, Y/N weaving her fingers through his. “My teacher is a vampire too!” Timmy says, “That’s why I know!” “No he isn’t, Timothy,” Aunt Clara rushes, “He was just a vampire for Halloween.” “But he’s cold all the time too. And he tells us about when he was a teenager, he fought in the-the-the um, the war in America! He was a red coat.”

There’s more silence and the discomfort is extremely tangible.

“Well, we’re going to eat in the living room, don’t want the food getting cold,” Y/N says, pulling Jack toward the living room. “It was lovely meeting you all,” Jack stammers out before following her to sit on the couch.

The crowd of Y/N’s relatives disperses to sit down again at the dining table, Y/N’s cousins peeking into the living room before coming in and staring at Jack.

“How old are you?” Henry Jr. asks.

Y/N nudges him, telling him it’s okay.

“I’m 167.”

They explode in shouts of astonishment and excitement.

“You’re older than sliced bread!” Gavin shouts. “And Walt Disney!” Walter says, proud that he knows so much about the man he’s named after. “Can you turn into a bat?” Emma asks, staring up at Jack with wide eyes. “Do you hang upside when you sleep?” Evie asks. “No, I don’t really sleep and I don’t turn into a bat. But that’d be cool though.”

“Vy don’t yew sound like zis?” Gavin asks, putting on a bad Romanian accent. “Because I’m Scottish,” Jack laughs, “I’ve never even been to Romania.”

Suddenly Adrian runs in and hops into Jack’s lap. “Are you really a vampire?”

“Yeah, I am,” he smiles.

Without any other word, Adrian puts his hands on Jack’s face before prying his mouth open and looking in. Jack opens his mouth despite the discomfort of having little fingers in it and hears Y/N choke on a piece of pancake as she giggles.

“Where are your fangs?” he asks, tilting his head to try and find the pointed teeth.

Jack moves his head back so that the little boy’s fingers can slide out of his mouth, “Do you wanna see them?” “Yeah, yeah!” they all shout. “Okay, okay,” Jack laughs, “Don’t touch them okay?” “Okay,” Adrian smiles, clapping his hands in anticipation.

Jack opens his mouth and feels his fangs protrude as they all cheer in excitement. He retracts them before closing his mouth. “How strong are you?” Walter asks. “I don’t know, exactly.” “Carry me, carry me!” Adrian cheers. Jack gets up and obliges, before Emma’s pushing his arm up and telling him to extend it. She jumps up and hangs on his arm like a monkey bar and her other cousins follow suit, climbing up and hanging onto Jack in anyway he can. There’s the exception of Mars, the next one after Y/N, though he’s younger than her by eight years. He stares at Jack intently, squinting his eyes suspiciously at him. “Yes?” “Your name’s Jack.” “Mhmm.” “Like Jack the Ripper.”

If they were in a sitcom, there would be the sound of a record scratching, cutting off the happy music playing in the background and the sound of the studio audience laughing.

“Uh, no, mate, m’not a serial killer. You think I’d be hanging around your cousin and letting all these kids hang off me if I was?” “Maybe so.” “Mars is really into crime and stuff,” Y/N explains, “he wants to be a police officer when he grows up, don’t you?” “Yep. You’re all clear for now, mister,” he says to Jack. “Thank you, officer,” Jack laughs, setting all the kids on the floor and sitting down to hang out with them.

Y/N gets up to bring her plate to the sink, getting intercepted by her concerned relatives. “You left him with the children?” they ask, astonished. “They’re fine,” she says casually, “he won’t hurt them. They’re actually quite fascinated with him.” “Isn’t that what they do, though?” her nan says in an accusing tone, “They use their charm to get into people’s heads and draw them in and then they just take them away?” “No, he’s not like that at all!” “He’s got a hold on you, doesn’t he?” “No, it’s not like that. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. He hunts animals.”

There’s silence.

“Go look at see,” she points towards the doorway to the living room. They eye her suspiciously before Aunt Sharon goes to peek around the wall. She relaxes visibly before turning back. “What’s going on?” “They’re just playing and he’s telling them stories.” “He’s such a wonderful person, I promise. He fought in the Great War and World War II. He was a spitfire pilot, like Papa.”

There’s more silence and Y/N thinks she might’ve gotten through to them.

“You watch out for the children, okay?” they say, “You don’t let him hurt them.” “I won’t. Please, please give him a chance, he’s so sweet.”

There’s a sign of resignation in their eyes and they appear to concede.

“Just make sure you’re being safe, dear,” Aunt Helen says. Y/N had a special place in her heart ever since she was a little girl.

“People can be mean, Aunt Helen,” she had said, “but you’re nice. You’re just trying to love Aunt Clara. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I will, Aunt Helen. He loves me and I love him.”

They all kiss her cheeks and forehead, reminding her they’re just worried because they love her and she can’t help that she feels a little thankful that they care so much. When she returns, Jack is telling them about Socks and his naughty habits, stopping to smile at her when he sees her walk in.

There’s a moment between them, suddenly broken by Evie’s outburst of “Do you love each other?” “No, they don’t Evie, only mommies and daddies can love each other,” Walter says. “Or mommies and mommies!” Timmy says, reminding them of his parents. “Yeah!” Walter agrees. “But they look at each other like mommy and daddy do,” Evie explains to Walter.

As they continue to banter, Y/N sits next to Jack, who’s bouncing little Adrian in his lap. “How’s it going?” “I think I got their approval,” Jack says proudly. “Good. The older folk are working at it.” “If they’re the older folk then I must be ancient.” “You are, though.” “Oi!”

The rest of the day was spent cooking, Jack helping in the kitchen where he could, proudly sharing his newfound cooking expertise with all the aunties while Y/N played video games with her cousins in the basement and the uncles watched football in the living room. Occasionally, Y/N would come in and grab snacks for the kids and Jack would quickly steal a kiss from her, earning coos from the aunts and a smile from Y/N’s mum.

After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room to open one present, Y/N picking her present from Aunt Clara and Aunt Helen as Jack settled behind her, extending his legs so she could sit between them. Her mum walked over and handed him an envelope with his name written on it.

“Here, darling,” she smiled, “Y/N told us you’ve yet to use your music app on your phone, so we figured we’d help you get started.”

He tears the envelope and opens the card, catching the iTunes gift card that slides out before reading the card.

We are so happy to have you as part of our family. May this be the first Christmas of many.

It was simple, but somehow it gave him all the reassurance he needed.

Y/N had jumped up at the excitement of unwrapping a designer bag, running over to hug her aunts. Jack got up to thank Y/N’s parents, hugging each of them tightly and kissing her mum on the cheek.

“Thank you,” he says, “I’m so grateful that you guys have accepted me into your family.” “Of course,” her father says, eyes drifting towards his daughter who’s modeling the bag in her pajamas, “She loves you very much.” “I want to say that I know, but I think she loves me more than I could ever imagine. And I feel just the same.” “If you ever want to marry her,” he says casually, “you have my approval.”

Jack looks at him, astonishment slapped all across his face.

“Are you serious?” “Yes. Hopefully that doesn’t scare you away,” he laughs, “I just imagine that…you two will be together for a long time and if marriage ever comes up you know you’ve got my blessing.”

Jack smiles, trying really hard to not let his emotions get the best of him, and thanks him.

When they go upstairs as everyone’s setting up their air mattresses and beddings, Y/N asks him what he and her parents were talking about.

“Oh I just thanked them for the iTunes, told them I’d use it to buy some Beatles music and stuff.” “Seems like you’re getting along well with everyone, especially when you were helping in the kitchen. Are they coming around?” “A little. I still can sense a bit of discomfort but it’s nice to know that your mum is getting me involved in everything.”

“I’m glad, too.”

They exchange kisses before Y/N snuggles up to him in bed and falls asleep. Jack gets up and opens the curtains, watching the snowfall as the moonlight filters in through the window. He remembers Christmases with his parents, opening presents and drinking hot cocoa while sitting by the fireplace. He remembers playing in the snow with Thomas, snowball fights and kissing pretty girls in the cheek as they stood under the mistletoe before running away. He doesn’t think about them much, but around this time of year when everyone is with their families, he can’t help but miss his own parents, wishing so badly that they hadn’t turned him away.

His thoughts are interrupted when Y/N stirs, in bed, her teeth chattering agains the cold. He closes the curtains before lying next to her and bringing her into him, pulling another blanket over her to shield her from the cold air. He presses a series of kisses to her forehead, her father’s words echoing in his mind. I just imagine that you two will be together for a long time.

He thinks about his dream again, having Y/N at his side forever. He shelves the idea again, knowing that Y/N might change her mind one day and decide to be with a mortal. As much as he’d understand why she would make a decision like that, he really hopes she doesn’t.

The next morning, Jack hears rattling at the door before it opens and Adrian runs in, jumping on the bed.

“It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas, it’s Christmas!” he cheers, shaking Y/N awake. “Oh, gosh, Adrian, okay, okay,” she laughs, “I’m awake, we’ll be down in a bit.” “Come on, Uncle Jack, come on!” he says tugging his arm. “Go, go, I’ll catch up,” she says, pushing him towards the edge of the bed to follow the little boy.

Jack’s mind is in a frenzy. He wants to tell Adrian to wait for Y/N, but his thought are muddled by the fact that he called him uncle. He’s able to come down the stairs, grabbing Adrian and scoop him into his arms before he slips on the last step and carries him into the living room.

Jenny’s eyes light up with concern for her son when she first sees them together, but relaxes when Jack sets him down with his other cousins to play with the race car track that Gavin got from his parents. Y/N finally comes down and she’s swarmed with everyone wanting to give her presents since she’s the last of the cousins to do so. She unwraps sweaters, gift cards and makeup bags before Jack hands her a slender box with her name written in curly handwriting.

“This one’s from me,” he says. “Did you write this?” she says, pointing to the penmanship written in black marker. “I did. Told you I had some of the best handwriting in Oxton.” “I stand corrected. Here,” she says handing him her own box as well. Their first Christmas they spent together, they had just cuddled and watched movies all day as the snow fell outside, not exchanging gifts. This Christmas they had made it a point to give gifts to each other, keeping them secret and stashing them in places around the house where they know the other wouldn’t find it.

“Open yours first,” Jack says. “Can’t we open it together?” “No, I wanna see your reaction.” “Okay,” she laughs, tearing into the gift wrap and tossing it aside. “Jack please tell me you didn’t get me a diamond necklace. “I didn’t,” he says, shaking his head.

She opens the box to find a Victorian folding fan, delicately taking it out of the box and slowly opening it. Lace lined the top of it and a floral design was spread across the pleated section.

“It’s from around my time,” he explains, “If I was courting you and you wanted to communicate with me, you would’ve used a bunch of different movements and ways of fanning yourself to do so.”

“Well right now, I’m gonna use it to actually fan myself because it’s hot here,” she says, fanning herself quickly. He suddenly becomes sheepish, catching her attention. “What?” she laughs. “Well, in Scotland that means ‘kiss me.’” “In that case,” she giggles, turning more towards him and fanning herself even faster. Jack leans in and pecks her on the lips, before drawing away bashfully. She laughs now, folding the fan again and kissing his cheek. “I love it. Thank you.” “M’glad, lass.”

“Okay, now open yours,” she says.

He undoes the twine bow and begins slowly tearing the paper away, revealing a small book. It’s leather and his initials are carved into the cover. “What’s this now?” he asks. “Open it,” she says, her cheeks glowing with a slight pink tint.

He pulls the cover open, resting his fingers on the page so that he can look at it.

It’s him.

It’s a picture of him at the stove, with a bar of text that says “Get you a man that can cook.”

“How did,” he starts, his question dying in his throat as he turns the page.

It’s a picture of him sitting on her bed in her dorm, smaller this time, along with a couple screenshots from her phone.

GUYS GUYS LAST NIGHT I WENT TO THE BAR AND THE BARTENDER WAS SO HOT HE WALKED ME BACK TO MY DORM AND LEFT ME HIS JACKET BECAUSE IT WAS COLD GIRL YOU BETTER GET THAT ASS WHAT WAS HIS NAME? WHAT DID HE LOOK LIKE?? HIS NAME IS JACK AND HE’S SO FREAKING TALL AND BLONDE AND HE HAS BLUE EYES AND HE’S SCOTTISH AND HE LEFT YOU HIS JACKET? GIRL HE WANTS YOU YOU HAVE TO SEE HIM AGAIN I WANT TO. I’M GONNA GIVE HIM HIS JACKET WHAT ELSE SHOULD I SAY JUST BE LIKE “Hey this is really nice, where’d you get it?” Just make conversation with him. THEN FUCK HIM.

Jack laughs when he reads that conversation before looking over at Y/N and seeing her laughing with him.

The next picture is of him reclining on the couch, Socks on his chest as he looks in the direction of the TV. 

He’s smiling, feeling tears build up in his eyes.

The next page is another couple of screenshots and a picture of him folding laundry.

Y’all he’s a vampire, how did I not realize. damn WHAT! Okay but if you think about it that kinda makes sense? Like, working in a bar late at night when the sun isn’t out, living in one of the cloudiest places in the entire world? That’s true. Should I still go for it though? did you talk to him today? give him his jacket? I did. I kissed him too. Y/N FJI;RHGROIEF;VHIG;AIH OH MY GOD YOU DID STOP EVERYTHING I KNOW I KNOW I COULDN’T HELP IT THOUGH, HE’S SO PRETTY AND HE WAS GONNA LEAVE BUT I DIDN’T WANT HIM TO SO I JUST WENT FOR IT HE KISSED ME TOO THOUGH HE DID!!! Y/N YOU KISSED A VAMPIRE I DID HOLY SHIT NOW WHAT THOUGH HE’S TAKING ME OUT TOMORROW. WHERE? WHERE? We’re going to a restaurant lmao he’s just gonna pay for my food. Bruh he totally wants you HE WANTS TO TAP IT Y/N!!!

They laugh again and Jack turns to the next page, seeing a picture of him painting the house. There’s another of him napping, the camera close to his face, and he cries. “What, what is it?” Y/N asks, everyone’s attention turning to him. “I just,” he starts, his voice full of emotion as he looks at the picture, “I haven’t seen myself in years. I’ve forgotten what I look like.”

Y/N laughs, wiping his tears with the sleeve of her sweater and kissing his cheek. “How’d you even do this?” “You show up on iPhone cameras, love,” she explains, still laughing. “I can’t believe this,” he says, “I never-I never thought I’d see pictures of myself again, I’ve only had ideas and vague memories.”

He continues flipping through the pictures, finding one of him scolding Socks, then fist bumping him even though he still looks rather annoyed, laughing through his tears. There’s one of him driving, his mouth open as he sings, and another of him scowling at the TV, probably watching Jeremy Kyle. He stops suddenly, looking at a photo of him and Y/N. They’re at the club from Halloween, in their costumes, him laughing as Y/N kisses his cheek. He figures Ash or Garrett must’ve taken it, but he’s still overcome with emotion. He has a picture of himself with her.

He cries even more, Y/N rubbing his back and laughing as she tries to calm him down. “We can have pictures together,” he says. “We can,” she confirms, nodding her head. “And we can have videos too? Videos of us together?” “Mhmm. Here,” she says, grabbing her phone and opening snapchat. She activates the selfie camera, holding it up to her face before leaning over to bring Jack into the picture. His eyes and nose are a little red from his tears and he almost starts crying again at the sight of himself. “Hey, stop crying,” she laughs, kissing his cheek. Jack looks beyond the phone and finds everyone watching him, their eyes soft after witnessing the scene unfold before them. Y/N snaps the picture then, his eyes looking away from the camera and her lips pressed against his cheek as she looks for a Christmas frame to add onto it before sending it to her story. “Can you teach me how to do that?” he asks. “Snapchat?” He nods, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Of course, darling. And you can take all the pictures you want.”

[trashfics]

Foxgloves ://: Chapter 3

Summary: Y/N was content living a normal life. Well, as normal as her life could be with the power to stun and cause death (in extreme conditions) with just a touch of her hand. Let’s just say gloves are a girl’s best friend, not diamonds. When the Winter Soldier surfaced, she was called in by Director Nick Fury to assist Captain America in fighting against a corrupt SHIELD. To the world, she is known as Foxgloves, the girl with poisons touch. To her team, she’s a mystery, coming out of nowhere, with her amazing combat skills and poisonous touch, to be recruited into their little group of super humans. Nobody knew of her origin, until Helmut Zemo’s plans consist of more than exposing the Winter Soldier as Howard and Martha Stark’s killer. Warnings: Mild cursing, CA: Civil War Spoilers. Word Count: 2,400k+ Last Chapter: [X] {“Buck! Stop! You’re gonna kill someone.” I hear Steve shout as he’s knocked down. James breaks the flooring next to the blonde’s head, pulling out a military style backpack. “I’m not gonna kill anyone.”}

James tosses the bag out of the open door, just as another soldier comes in through the window. I pull out one of my smaller guns and shoot him in the leg, causing him to fall onto the ground. His hands instinctively going to the fresh wound, while I pick up his gun. A new soldier perches himself outside of another window, only to be pushed away by Steve. James pushes me behind him as he sticks his metal hand up, blocking the bullets from a new soldier, eventually throwing a cinder block at him, launching him into the closet door.

Three gunshots pierce the door, knocking the hinges off. James punches the wall, sending the man behind it backwards. He takes on the first soldier who attempts to enter, while I take on the ones on the stairs. A sudden crash through the sun roof startles me, causing the soldier I was currently fighting to knock me down. He raises his gun at me, getting ready to shoot, but I’m faster. Jumping up, I rip off my glove and grab his exposed wrist, rendering him immobile. Slightly smirking to myself, I continue down the stairs, paralyzing as many soldiers as I can. ‘We don’t want to kill anyone,’ I remind myself, ‘just stun.’

Steve eventually makes it back to the action, snatching the walkie talkie from what looks like a middle-aged man, whom was calling for back up. ‘Oh, no honey, I think we’re good.’ The good ol’ captain jumps from stair to stair, trying to get down to where James and I are. The brunette sends a man over the railing, Steve reaching out and grabbing him. “Come on, man.” Chastises the blonde as James punches a soldier in the gut. ‘Ouch,’ I wince, ‘that’s defiantly got to hurt.’

James pulls the railing off, swinging down like Tarzan and into the door next to me. Steve clips two men together and sends one of them over the railing, the other keeping them from going splat. I stun a few of the men coming at James, as he jumps down the stair well. I rush down, dodging anyone coming at me. “Are you fucking crazy?!” I yell at nobody in particular, (*cough* James Buchanan *cough*). He grabs onto one of the railings, yelling at the strain in his arm and shoulder. Pulling himself over the bar and onto the landing, he busts through a door, me trailing in after him.

He takes a running start and jumps onto the roof of the building next door. “Sam, I’m going to need a lift.” I say, as a figure in a black and silver suit attacks James. “Who the fuck invited this dude?” I ask in disbelief as he pounces onto the super soldier. He stands up, claws protruding from his gloves. ‘Well, damn.’ I think, hearing Steve mentally scolding me for my language. Him and James start fighting, them both attacking and dodging each other. James gets kicked into one of the A/C units with an ‘oh shit’ face as the masked assailant digs his claws into the metal. “Any minute now Sam!” I say, starting to get impatient.

Steve comes up behind me, looking down to see what’s going on. I look over and see Sam coming into view. Without saying anything, Steve tugs me behind him, silently motioning for me to hold on. I place my arms around his neck and latch onto him like a koala. ‘If we weren’t close before, then we definitely are now.’

“Who the hell’s the other guy?” Questions Sam as Steve gets ready. “About to find out” replies the captain. He starts running and jumps off the balcony, almost making it to the rooftop before Sam swoops down and I jump onto his back. He starts flying towards the helicopter that’s shooting bullet after bullet at the men on the roof. “Sam put me down, they need my help.” I say, making sure to keep my ungloved hand away from any exposed skin. “You can join them later.” He grunts, kicking the tail and diving down towards the street.

Sam flies into the tunnel, trying to catch up to Steve. The GSF already in pursuit with our merry band of fugitives. “Sam, where are they?” I ask, scanning for a clue as to where they disappeared off to. “Over that way.” He says, nodding towards the broken barrier and car buildup.

As soon as Steve’s car comes into view, the masked man jumps towards Sam and grabs onto his leg, knocking me off in the process. I skid onto the asphalt, pain bursting throughout my side. Grunting, I get up and begin chasing after the two super soldiers. James sets off a bomb, causing rubble to block our path. But, before it does, Sam launches the Cat in the Mask past Steve and I and through the falling cement.

The German Special Forces eventually surround us, alarms blaring and lights flashing. Finally, the men stop and stand up, looking around at each other as I catch up and stand next to Steve.  Rhodey comes out of nowhere, ready to fire at either party. “Stand down, now.” He demands. Somebody shouts something in German, as I look around and take in the number of guns pointed at us.

“Congratulations, guys.” Spits out the older man, “You’re now criminals.” We are bombarded with shouting men, James being brought down to his knees and cuffed. Another man comes up and pulls my raised arms down and behind my back, slapping on a pair of handcuff and knocking my knees out from under me. The masked cat man finally ends his staring competition with Steve and takes off his mask, revealing himself to be T’Challa, the now king of Wakanda. “Your highness.”

We are later transported in a heavily armed car to somewhere in Berlin. James is in a specially designed tank that restricts his arms and legs. “So, you like cats?” asks Sam, breaking the suffocating silence. “Sam.” warns Steve. “What?” he says, defensively. “Dude shows up dressed like a cat, you don’t wanna know more?” I sigh, resting my head against the window, feeling a growing headache coming on.

“Your suit” Steve pauses, “it’s vibranium?” The new man turn his head slightly, debating on whether to respond. “The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle passed from warrior to warrior.” He answers, his accented voice being gravely. “And now, because your friend murdered my father I also wear the mantle of king. So, I ask you, as both warrior and king, how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?”

We are unloaded and freed of our bindings, James being hauled off by a fork lift. “Some people just have terrible trust issues.” I mutter as we walk towards Sharon and a short, greying man in an equally grey suit. “What’s gonna happen to him?” the worry was barely discernable in Steve’s voice, but still there. “Same thing that ought to happen to you. Psychological evaluation and extradition.” Replies the hobbit-like man.

“This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander.” introduces Sharon. “What about a lawyer?” I ask, starting to get annoyed with being in the presence of the smug man. “Lawyer. That’s funny. See their weapons are placed in lockup. We’ll write you a receipt.” He nods at Sharon, as I clench my fists, resisting the urge to sock him in the face. “I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.” Threatens Sam as a man walks past with his wings.

“You’ll be provided with an office, instead of a cell. Now, do me a favour, stay in it?” says Deputy Ross as he leads us towards wherever. “I don’t intend on going anywhere.” States T’challa. Natasha walks over, giving the three of us a look of disappointment. “For the record, this is what making things worse looks like.” “He’s alive.” states Steve as we enter the large, double doors.

Hearing the angry voice of Tony causes me to sigh. “No. Romania was not Accords-sanctioned. Colonel Rhodes is supervising cleanup.” Says Stark, pacing back and forth while on the phone. “Try not to break anything while we fix this.” Warns the Russian, leaving us to our own devices.

“Consequences? You bet there’ll be consequences.” Tony says, assuring whoever he was on the phone with. “Obviously, you can quote me on that,” he looks me dead in the eye, because I just said it. Anything else? Thank you, sir.” He hangs up the phone, stopping in front of Steve, Sam, and I.

“Consequences?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “Secretary Ross wants all three of you prosecuted. Had to give him something.” Says the tired man. “I’m not getting that shield back, am I?” chimes in Steve, causing me to elbow him the side. “Technically, it’s the government’s property.” Informs Natasha, walking side by side with Tony. “Wings, guns, and knives, too” she adds with a smirk. “That’s cold.” Comments Sam, shaking his head. “Warmer than jail.” Shoots back Tony.

I leave the boys on their own, in search of the bathroom, my headache getting stronger. ‘How does he not remember me?’ I ask myself. ‘I mean, sure, he may not remember me from back then but what about a few years ago, I was there when we fought in New York, I’m sure he’d remembered Natasha at least, and Sam.’ My mental rant is interrupted by me walking into a glass wall. I step back, rubbing my forehead a bit and look around at my surroundings.

“Where the hell am I?” I ask myself, confused by my current location. Noticing a rather pale man with glasses and a little bit of stubble enter the room, relief floods my system ‘He looks important; therefore, he probably works here.’

“Excuse me? Sir?” I call out, causing him to jump. I snicker a little while walking over to him. “Hi, um, do you have any idea how to get back to the main area?” Flashing him my signature smile, I stop in front of him. He just stairs at me for a second, probably thinking ‘Who the hell is this strange woman?’, before nodding and motioning for me to follow him.

Trying to start up a conversation, I ask “So, do you have an important meeting or something?” Rather than responding verbally, he just nods. Again. ‘Well, you’re a strange fellow, aren’t you?’  For the rest of the way, we walk in silence, since Mr. Important Business doesn’t feel like talking.  ‘Maybe he’s here for James’ I shudder, trying to send away the thoughts of what could possibly happen to him.

Making our way into the heavily crowded area, I send him a nod and a smile, he just reciprocates the nod. ‘It’s something at least.’ I turn around, felling a tap on my shoulder. “Get lost on your way to the bathroom?” laughs Sam. “There was a line.” I lie; the man already has enough dirt on me as is. “Oh really?” he says skeptically, “Then why were you walking with that guy?” I scoff, “Can two people not be in the same hallway at once?” “I mean, he seemed a little shady, Y/N” Sam points out, causing me to laugh. “Everyone seems shady to you, hun.”

I walk past him and over to Steve, who has been beckoning us into a room with glass walls. “What’s going on?” I ask, sensing the tension radiating of off Steve. “They’re about to start his psyche evaluation.” He says, motioning to the monitors outside of the room. Looking at the screens, I see James staring upwards, definitely not wanting to be here as much as any of us do, probably more.

Sharon walks in later, handing Sam a piece of paper. “The receipt for your gear.” He looks over it and starts to complain. “Bird costume? Come on.” Sharon slaps the back of one of the chairs and turns to him, saying “I didn’t write it.” I start to snicker, Steve giving me a look before returning his attention to the wall. Sharon presses a button, causing the screen to change to the one with James’ face.

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions.” Says the accented voice of the psychologist. “Do you know where you are, James? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” Looking up at the man sitting across from him, James responds in a small voice, “My name is Bucky.” Sighing, I sit down in one of the chairs, placing my elbows on my knees and head in my hands. ‘This isn’t going to end well’ I think, feeling the uneasiness in my stomach bubbling like boiling water.

“Why would the task force release the photo to being with?” Speaks up Steve, placing down the photo of “James” at the bombing. “Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” guesses Sharon, stress evident in her features. “Right. It’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” States Steve. “Are you suggesting someone framed him?” I ask, looking over at the tall blonde. “Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Chimes Sam, attempting to be the voice of reason. “We didn’t bomb the UN. That turns a lot of heads.-“ Steve is cut off by Sharon saying, “Yeah, but that doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would.” We all look back at the single monitor in our room, a feeling of dread washing over us. “Yeah.” Confirms Steve.

“Tell me, Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?” Standing up, I come to stand in front of Steve and stare at the monitor. ‘That’s Mr. Important Business.’ “I don’t wanna talk about it.” “You fear that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry. We only have to talk about one.” Taking in a sharp breath, my whole-body tenses. ‘What are you up to?’ Suddenly the power goes out, the red emergency lights flashing on. We all exchange looks before Sharon says “Sub-level five, East Wing.”

With that Steve, Sam, and I bolt out of the conference room. ‘James, oh, James, please be okay.’ Was currently repeating in my head like a mantra. As we run down an empty hallway, we see all different kinds of personnel, hopefully, knocked out on the floor. “Help me, help.” Looking towards the source of the voice, I pause as Steve walks towards him.

“Get up.” He commands, in his semi-captain voice. Grabbing him by the collar, Steve slams him against the wall. “Who are you? What do you want?” He questions. “To see an empire fall.”

Tag List: @cassandras-musings

[i-sold-my-soul-to-loki-blog]

Chapter 2: The Devil Is My Witness

Hell wasn’t normally a nice place. It was hot, cramped and open flames and lava rivers were everywhere. On the celestial safety scale, it ranked a solid 2 outta 10. That being said the main palace was a stunning and comfortable place. The walls floors and roof was made of either carved obsidian or marble. Colored polished crystals and stones adorned the lights and windows giving it a sacred feeling angels so loved.

The main throne was made from cast silver and ancient demon blades. Sitting in it was Morningstar himself and a little ember demon kit. He was stroking its back and feeding it some kind of meat. She really didn’t want to know what kind.

“Ah, you are here. No need to worry I know it wasn’t you who made the deal to enter heaven. I also know it wasn’t you who stole my brother’s sword. However, I do need your help getting it back.” He took off his sunglasses revealing a pair of ruby red eyes and deep abyssal black wings.

“Now time for proper introductions. I’ve wanted to do this since the first day we met but a fallen angel can’t be too careful. I’m Lucifer Morningstar, welcome to Hell.” His smile was warm and revealed a pair of long almost vampiric fangs. She could almost believe he fathered that race, almost.

“Now I know what you’re thinking. You can’t be the devil you’re too nice and way too handsome. Doesn’t he have goat legs and horns? I assure you I am Satan or Lucifer or the Devil whatever you want to call me I am in fact he.” He stood and gave a dramatic bow. He looked eager as he Awaited their response.

“Actually…” Loki started. “What she is thinking is dear fates why am I surrounded by these crazy drama club goths.” He gave her his best disapproving stare. “I resent that remark by the way. You see this is why I can’t take her places, such a disobedient wolf.” he smiled toward Lucifer as if it was a running joke between the two Gods.

“No.” She interjected. “This is why I can’t have nice things. I meet a lovely semi-normal person who isn’t trying to burn down the town, send me on crazy errands, seduce half the population or trying to start a war and have a decent camaraderie with and he turns out to be an angel. But not just any angel he’s the adorable non-uptight human acting fallen one. Honestly can’t I just meet a nice vampire or maybe a swamp mermaid hell I’ll settle for a dragon at this point.” Her rant lasted longer than she’d have liked but it was getting really annoying her lack of suitable suitors. In true male fashion however they missed the point.

“You think he’s adorable yet I’m just meh.” Loki sounded offended.

“You like having me as a friend?” She could’ve sworn she saw a tear. “I’ve never had friends before, can I please keep you as one.” Damn, he sounded so dang sincere.

“It’s not like you being the Devil changes anything. My best friends are Loki god of Mischief and Hades lord of the dead. Trust me Arch Angel Lucifer will fit right in with this crowd.” She gave him a pat on the shoulder. Yeah her friends were a weird group.

“When did you befriend Hades?” They asked in unison. Loki completely missing the God of Mischief is my best friend part.

“A few years ago during the whole Hammer of Thor incident. I had to retrieve water from the Phlegethon to appease the dragon Gajeel. Struck a deal with Hades so me, him, Hel and Xolotl occasionally get together for tea and trade stories about our respective pantheons. Yes Loki, since you don’t hang with the Norse deities you are considered mine by default.”

The two seemed fascinated by this little tidbit. Hades and Hel don’t talk to anyone yet this little wolf succeeded. Of course, it was no surprise, he was prone to sending her off to do random tasks he couldn’t which required a certain amount of finesse and trust building. Still, it was a bit disconcerting that she had these strong allies he had no clue about.

If she wanted it would be easy to wriggle out of her contract. Especially now that Lucifer was among those friends. He was considered the God of bargains and deals by most of the other Gods. Loki stared at her, silently praying that she wouldn’t choose to leave.

“I know what you are thinking trickster and I have no plans of breaking our little deal. It’s far too much fun being able to roam anywhere in the nine realms without bothering a dimensional sorcerer or sorceress. Besides as troublesome as these jobs of yours are they do past the time between bouts of boredom.” The words were thrown out rather absentmindedly as she studied the group of demons that wandered in.

He could never understand how she handled demokyn so easily. Most of them were either nauseating to look at or to smell, this group was the rare ones that were both. Of course like most celestial beings, if you could call them that, they could take human form. The thing was that unless it was necessary they refused to. He really wished that wasn’t the case right now.

The largest pair of demons were a sickly green color, covered with large bulky scales they had mostly serpentine bodies. They had the chest of a bodybuilder and where their feet should have been were two spiny clusters that seemed to drag the creatures across the floor. They had no hands and instead used their anglerfish like jaws to each hold an arm of their captive. They smelt like rotten desert carrion.

The other three were humanish in looks. Their skin, however, was marbled with shades of red orange and yellow. Their hands and feet were webbed and red fins protruded from their arms, legs and backs. In place of hair were red and orange banded spines that seemed to go well with their bright golden eyes. Like the others they had the jaws of deep sea fish. Their scent however was in a much more charming burnt leather range.

Their captive however seemed like your average human. Tan skin, black hair, brown eyes, two arms, two legs and a bit on the skinny side. He wore a red and orange camo catsuit. He looked a bit worse for the wear but if he had been running around Hell it could’ve been worse. No surprise Skye and Lucifer seemed to know him.

“Is that GREG? Mr. I’m going to kill all the vampires in Romania GREG. Mr. Let me wear your pelt as a trophy GREG.” By the way she said his name he could tell Greg was no a friend.

“Yes.” the Devil responded. “After you caught the guy trying to kill off my precious Nephilim son Asreal I had him brought down here and thrown in the rivers of fury. The five you see before you are lava nymphs. Well except for the guards those are hell born Naga, a gift from my middle eastern partner.”

He seemed so casual about it. Oh yeah don’t mind him I just had the guy drug down here to torture for eternity. It's no big deal really. Just gonna drown in him the fury bled from wronged men. Of course he couldn’t judge, he once turned a human who threatened Nami into a rabbit, gave him immortality and set him loose in a building full of hungry kitsune.

“Okay then.” That’s his lycan and her confused acceptance of the vengeful acts of scorned Gods. “why is he currently in here then?” Straight to the point, good girl.

“You see…” One of the Lava nymphs started.

“An angel came and said they needed his help tracking something or someone down.” The center one continued.

“Since he was cursed by the Dimensional Witch Eternity he can hop between worlds but will only land in the most guarded place in that world.” the third finished.

“The angel thought that if the sword was missing it’d be heavily guarded and they would send him in to scout the place. If he got killed the process he’d just return to us and report.” They said in unison. The naga nodded in agreement causing their teeth to dig into Greg’s arms. Blood started to run onto the marble floor in a steady stream. Hungry calls could be heard throughout the palace.

“What did the Angel look like?” Lucifer asked as he walked towards the human. His red eyes had turned a sickly yellow shade. Black scales replaced the feathers on his wings and a long dragon like tail flashed into view. The not so subtle reminder that when an angel falls it becomes a Demon King.

“It was tall but looked almost completely human. The eyes were like mercury and golden wings were blinding though they had black stripes. It chose a dark-skinned suit, like maybe a Jamaican but was built like a pro boxer. Unlike most it didn’t seem bothered by the air down here, in fact, it was smiling.” The nymphs shuddered.

“It seems my dear brother Michael paid us a visit. It is his sword after all. Still what he says goes even if this traitorous bastard doesn’t deserve to be let go.” He pulled the human from the Nagas jaws causing a fresh spray of blood to coat the walls and floor.

The sound he made couldn’t have been human but it came from one. His cries of pain only caused the distant howls of hunger to grow louder and move closer. Slithering and tapping could be heard on the windows outside. Something resembling a gulper eel with wings flashed into view outside.

Loki took a few steps closer to Skye for comfort. She moved them both a good two feet further from Greg. As did his escort party. A large growl rattled the building and several of the demons retreated from view outside.

“Loki, speaking one Celestial being to another, can I trust you to return this filth to me once the blade is found.” his voice was a low whisper that bounced of the walls and chilled him to his bones.

“Considering I don’t want him, to begin with, I’ll happily return him to you the moment he is no longer of use.” He forced himself to swallow as the urge to throw up became stronger.

He turned toward his lycan for comfort but found only seething hatred in her eyes. Usually, they were a light blue, the color of the fjords, sometimes like glaciers in the winter. Right now, however, they were a deep navy, like waves during a storm. She was fighting down the inner demon that made lycans, lycans. No doubt it had something to do with Lucifer’s current mood, the calls of the demokyn outside and Greg’s pleased smirk.

“Skye luna Starshadow do you swear that no matter what this soul will be returned to where it belongs?” He was full on Demon King now, Greg little more then a chew toy in the grasp of a Great White. Charcoal black skin was covered in red Enochian script in complex patterns. Black bat like wings with red stripes stretched behind him. A long black reptilian tail wrapped around the throne, blood red barbs carving grooves in the floor. Large elk like antlers graced his head, each branch ending in a barbed point.

“The devils as my witness I will drag him back here myself.” Her usual calm voice was little more than a snarl.

“Good now begone. We’ll catch up after.” with a puff of black sooty smoke they found themselves in the heart of Helheim.

[festivalists]

In the mood for Transylvania

With the Romanian TIFF slowly but surely emerging as a must stop for every film professional, not just for the ones curious about local cinema, we are happy to offer you Patrick Holzapfel's notes on the contemplative week he spent in Transylvania. Just like last year, he shares his experience entering the cinephilia space-time continuum, only this time peeking far beyond the snows of Sieranevada.

It is odd to be writing again. I wonder how one can come back to a place one has been before, as the same or a different person, watching the same or different films. How often do we have to come to a place until the memories connected with it become real again? Festivals in general give the impression of being always changing, while they seem to be the same from year to year. Cluj-Napoca, it was again. The huge Transylvania International Film Festival which would once again prove that you do not need many cinemas to project films.

I have seen it, and like last year it greeted me with rain and sticky weather. Like with so many festivals, the trip is part of the experience. Especially when being able to do it by car. Why? Well, because you might win a spring screen wash for your car at a Romanian gas station (I asked “Why did I win?” and the answer “Because you tank!”), or you can witness a dog not only running on the street in front of cars but doing it in circles in a roundabout. Moreover, for the first time in my life I had to pass through a mudslide while a policeman was observing it and shrugging his shoulders. In my imagination, I was swept away from the mud. Then I arrived in Cluj-Napoca with my muddy car. I was very happy to own a spring screen wash. From my hotel room I could see the whole town. Traces of the sun behind the clouds.

Why do I write about these matters that do not seem to be related to cinema? It is because I think they are related to cinema. Traveling to a foreign country is always about comparing it to images one has of it. In terms of cinema, this means you can see who is a “documentary filmmaker” and who does not care about the real world. Documentary filmmakers, like Christian Petzold, Thomas Heise, or Angela Schanelec in Germany, give an image of a country that holds true when you travel there. There is something you know about a country without ever having been there. Something cinema knows. It is not facts but sensibilities, and it is memories becoming material. In the case of Romania, it seemed to me again, the absurdities are very well depicted by cinema, the beauty and poetry are not.

However, I know of someone who would have jumped right into the mudslide: Buster Keaton. I decided to open my personal festival with him as the war – a so-called cine-concert with Diallèle accompanying THE GENERAL (1926). The musical trio with its wreaking sounds focussed on the idea of movement in the film as opposed to the idea of gags. It is an approach that works particularly well with THE GENERAL, because the speed of the film is its oxygen. Oh, this cross-cutting splendor. The music was taking the side of the machines, not of Keaton. Due to that, the actor seemed even more out of place than he is anyway. It was a rather nice way to start the festival even if the digital copy seemed to be a Blu-Ray (maybe it was that was just the bad quality of projection in the Student's Culture House, but it certainly was not projected from film).

Some thoughts on silence. There was very little of it in the theatres here in Cluj-Napoca. It was a cell phone paradise. Nobody seemed to bother. Sounds and lights everywhere. Is it too much for a festival to ask people to shut down their mobiles during screenings?

Another silence gone – Šarūnas Bartas. His cinema tells the story of a frustration, the frustration with words. Whereas in his first works he stunningly avoided them, now he has become some sort of prophet of the non-speaking. It is a paradox, though, as his characters talk a lot about not-talking. But his latest film FROST (2017) is much more than that. It is a journey into questions about the inability of touching and the impossibility of truth. Nevertheless, what remains is the absence of silence. Yet, silence is resistance as it is shown in Jean-Pierre Melville’s beautiful and cruel THE SILENCE OF THE SEA / LE SILENCE DE LA MER (1949), part of the director's retrospective at the festival. In the first row a young lady was sitting with a laptop as a live-subtitling device. The light of that screen (why does she have to sit there?) were louder than the words of the film.

I had to face it: Cluj was loud and joyous again. It was not a cathedral of cinema, nothing holy here, just people enjoying cinema. In the festival trailer, a guy eats cabbage and afterwards an alien-like creature bursts out of his stomach.

So, in the morning I sat down in a park close to my hotel. There were some ducks here, an old lady was picking leaves from the trees, many lovers here, they did what lovers do. It was almost silent. I tried to think about what I had been seeing so far: a lot of noise, some silence.

Interlude. What it takes to show films in Cluj-Napoca, present them as a big event, and pay for hotel rooms for people like me:

Drink some Staropramen or Sâmburești wine, pay for it with your Mastercard, or get some money at Raiffeisen Bank. That is how your day should start. While you are at it, go to McDonald's, they even have a parking spot where you can put your Mercedes, baby. At McDonald's they show HBO, or TV5Monde should you prefer French. After eating a cheeseburger and having beautiful talks about the arts with representatives of the Ministry of Culture as well as some big shots from Creative Europe, you can fill in some gas at a MOL. It is easy, and you are also doing something for the culture, as they faithfully tell you in their commercial. Maybe some Nespresso for take-away. However, please be careful and wash your clothes only with Persil. I can not bare any other detergent.

And don’t forget to write to me. You can use DHL. You can also add the beautiful images you made with your Nikon. I could digitize them and watch them on my brand new BenQ LCD monitor. You could also send them digitally. Don’t you own a Samsung mobile phone that makes even better images? You could also call me with it. Internet should not be a problem with UPC. Neither is light with E.ON, neither is water supply with Water Coman SOMEŞ S.A. I guess you have everything you need? If there is anything you miss, you can also go to M@dd Electronics.

On Romanian TV they said “I love Cluj!” The ambassadors and other inspiring people from the world of institutes are also there. I could see them walk on television. Don’t hesitate to drink some Jameson Irish Whiskey with them. They are nice. Don’t drink too much. I heard AQUA Carpatica is better for your health. Maybe when you become friends with them you can also buy a Tenaris pipeline together. There was a James Bond film with Pierce Brosnan where they had lots of fun in such a pipeline. If you want to feel more beautiful, I recommend Avon, it is “the company for women.” Should anthing happen in the pipeline, or anywhere else, Aegon will be there for you.

Cinema, I’m lovin’ it.

The emptiness of the Ethnographic Museum in Cluj-Napoca reminded me of an absence. It is not an absence that is connected with something or someone in particular, but one of those absences one feels in the soul while looking at things. As I walked through a building that contained the peasant history of the region in instruments, clothes, and decor, everything seemed to be so touchable and so far away. In a brave and weak second, I could not resist – though it was forbidden, I put my finger on one of these dresses, feeling the colors under my fingertips, the material with my skin, yet, the history seemed gone. A peculiar sensation that even got stronger when I felt that looking at huge photographies of people actually wearing those clothes, or working with those instruments, spoke a lot more to me than the touch. Is this, I asked myself, the price you pay for watching too many movies, or just for living in this world? The images showed eyes of people looking into the camera, there was joy and poverty, struggle and beauty. They were stronger, in a way even more present than the objects. I could only understand the weight of these instruments, their function, and beauty while I was looking at the photographs. As if I was blind for the real thing. However, I was wondering, what is real about those instruments and clothes without people?

After a dream, I woke up to a screening of CALIFORNIA DREAMIN’ / NESFÂRŞIT (2007) by Cristian Nemescu, a film I had known already and loved. It was presented as a tragic and sad anniversary screening. Sad because director Nemescu died in a car crash while working on the post-production of this film. It tells the story of a meeting between a Romanian village and American soldiers passing through. It is at the same time a political statement, a light and romantic comedy, a coming-of-age film, a drama, a western, and an exploration about different forms of resistance. Due to rain and other issues, the screening started at midnight. So in the middle of the night, all the leaves were brown, and the sky was grey. It was uplifting and deeply touching at the same time. Again, I was wondering what spoke to me so much in this film. Is it finding oneself in those images, narratives? Is it really all about identification? I am not happy with it, I did not want to go to cinema to see myself on the screen.

As it is asked in the Golden Bear winner ON BODY AND SOUL / TESTRŐL ÉS LÉLEKRŐL (2017) by Ildikó Enyedi, what happens if two people see the same image, maybe look into the same mirror in a dream? Do they maybe become blind for the real thing, or do they only project themselves on the dreams of another person?

It was a day without structure. Cinema swallowed memories.

The Romanian Days had started. This line-up is the festival's flagship, because Romanian cinema keeps being exciting. I watched new films by Adrian Sitaru and Călin Peter Netzer, as well as many average to bad shorts. Sitaru’s latest offers a moral dilemma deeply concerned with the ethics of journalism and image-making. When you try to make people who suffered unjustly speak, and you know that the act of speaking makes them suffer, what do you do?

It reminded me of a note in one of my old notebooks: “Is filming stealing (time)?”

The issue of realism in Romanian cinema has been discussed on (too) many occasions. Yet, it catches the eye how certain ways of camera movement, color grading, or sound design are not connected to moral positions anymore. They are mere style. Due to that, every little change from what one seems to know comes like a surprise. There are not many surprises.

In the morning, the cleaning lady of my hotel took away my card, she came back and gave it to me. While arriving at my room late in the evening, the card did not work. I went to the desk, and they gave me another card, telling me the one I had was for a different room. I like the idea of a hotel where people have to find their room, because the cards / keys do not tell. I was sleeping in the wrong bed, maybe, like a baby that was given to another mother.

Flowers in the Japanese Gardens, some ducks searching for cover under a sunlit bridge, children screaming and scaring away the flowers. The flowers can not run. Yet they whisper to each other about hiding. Leaves falling to the ground, searching for a shadow. Someone let a tree die, here. It looks beautiful. The Botanical Garden in Cluj-Napoca is truly magnificent. I went there in order to hide, to look at water lilies reflecting suns.

Later I was going to see one of my favorite flowers in last year’s cinema – the one the protagonist is holding lovingly, moribundly close to his chest in Radu Jude’s SCARRED HEARTS / INIMI CICATRIZATE (2016). He is on his way to his love, he wants to give it to her. He bids farewell to the world and tries to live in it for the last breathe close to the sea. He is blooming but still dying. It is a film that exceeds wrinkles of suffering and instead gives an approach to death that consists of anger, desperation, and beauty. It is also concerned with the gap opening between what is said and seen, what is hidden and embraced by history and those writing it. Since I have seen it, I want to read Max Blecher’s writings. The film is based on his life and takes from his novels. I started reading his novel with a title that seems rather fittingly for my festival endeavors, Adventures in Immediate Irreality.

How an attempt concerned with history and its perception can be done rather clumsily showed CAMERA OBSCURA (2016), a documentary on cine-clubs during Ceaușescu that had above all a terrible soundtrack. It showed people telling redundantly their memories. In the end, it communicated its very clear message in titles – these cine-clubs are looked at as if they were pure propaganda instruments but they were much more and harm was done to their essential documentation of communist life in Romania during and after the Revolution. What is to be done with those films that only consist of what they talk about?

The flowers in the Botanical Garden had no messages. So before the screening of the not quite fantastic but decent A FANTASTIC WOMAN / UNA MUJER FANTÁSTICA (2017), I returned there. But all the flowers were in hiding. They were telling me, like Gustave Courbet, that we can only see what gets lit from the sun. I don't know... a festival can be such a sun, can't it? However, I am wondering, what if a sun chooses where to shine on?

There was more shadow than light on my last day in Cluj-Napoca. Nevertheless, I could see more than in the previous days.

Part of the bright shadows came from the long-buried Romanian classic THE ONE HUNDRED BILL / 100 DE LEI (1973) by Mircea Săucan. The film was shown in a newly restored copy that was so black and so white that Philippe Garrel, wherever he was, must have felt an itching in his left eye while watching it. Fittingly, it tells a rather dark story about two brothers, one a successful actor, the other – a drifter. They fall for the same girl but the film is, again, about more than that. It is about the unreality of dependency. The sound seems to be miles away from the image. People talk, yes, but the post-production voices are not meant to stick to the reality of the image. Instead they project themselves onto something which we know from being too late, a sensation close to an echo or something that resonates in a desire to be somewhere else. It is a bizarre and hypnotic film that must be watched again. It was followed by Radu Jude’s latest documentary THE DEAD NATION / ŢARA MOARTĂ (2017), which consists entirely of photographs and found-footage voice-over, telling or not telling about the history of anti-semitism in Romania during at the time of WWII. So, after all those flowers and doubts, cinema got me back when it started to open gaps between what we can and can’t see.

My week in Transylvania ends here. After a festival there is much to tell. It always struck me as funny to travel in order to sit through something that basically feels the same everywhere yet makes you travel again. It is like a double exposure of traveling. During a festival, we are at many places at the same time. One can keep the city or cinema at a distance. So, the sensation of memories intertwining with visits to places and films will always be distorted. It is highly dependent on the rhythm. TIFF has the rhythm of too much, too fast. Still, sometimes such an overdose allows for sudden freedom. It is like when Bresson wrote that the sound-film invented silence – a festival like this might remind us the true value of a single film and the time we spend with it. Curating at TIFF is looked at from the perspective of offering, bringing something, maybe everything. It is not about taste, morals, or values, it is about the market.

This is not necessarily a bad thing, though, because it might work and be understood like a convention for world cinema in Romania. Rarely have I visited a festival where so much is done to include the town and even its surroundings into the programming and the event as such. It feels like everything breathes TIFF, and the young audience shows that such an attitude can give the impression of cinema being alive. There is no possibility you have not heard of TIFF if you are local. Some beautiful encounters and impressions derive from such a presence.

However, the question remains if it is cinema that is alive or the event it is engraved in. Cluj-Napoca once again proved to be an island where such doubts feel out of place. It quite clearly tells people to have fun, to celebrate, not to repine. Considering developments in the Romanian industry bureaucracy, such a place is clearly needed and embraced by many. The festival is young, it wants to break with certain patterns, it is moving on where others hesitate. It looks bravely and sometimes blindly into the future. The beautiful thing about this is that it creates enthusiasm, the bad thing is that it does not ask you to look, it does not tell you anything about cinema as a festival. With this I mean there is no idea of how to look at films, how to project films, how to discuss films, or how to program films.

But don’t think too much. Take a # and dance me to the future of cinema.

If you are a film industry professional, you can watch films from Transylvania IFF on Festival Scope.

[herrblumen]

The Problem of Ukk

I love to travel and I’ve seen awesome places in the USA and abroad. I love the great New River Gorge of my homestate of West Virginia. I’ve had my breath taken by the mountains of Tyrolia. The hills of Transylvania remind me of home among the Appilachains. I’ve been stuck in a blizzard west of Denver on the continental divide in July. I love the mighty Danube on the many points I’ve seen it, not least of which as it flows under Erzsebet Hid in Budapest.

I also have several not so savory stories of travel: I’ve been detained on a bus to Bratislava (story for another time). Getting stung in the eye just off Table Rock Mountain in the Carolinas. I’ve been hustled in an illegal currency exchange in Keleti Station in Budapest (no one anywhere exchnges Serbian Dinar, trust me). The problem of finding myself somehow in the middle of a military base south of Atlanta, GA, which I swore wasn’t on the map. Moldova and Ukraine both have delightful problems with border official corruption. I’ve seen the seedy underbelly of Western Berlin’s oddly Russian enclave (wait… Western?).

No, my greatest problem was with Ukk, Hungary. It bested me.

Budapest and I have a long love/hate relationship. The love is for the inestimable history, art, culture and people of this vast city. The hate is for the rail system. More specifically, the fact that if I want to go anywhere in Europe, somehow I end up at Keleti. This time, I’m headed from Targu Mures/Marosvasarhely, Romania to a new city in which I’m hoping to find a job: Ljubljana, Slovenia. I had to go through Keleti. No choice. I got there and had to get off my train, then buy a new ticket for the second leg into Slovenia. I could handle this. I had a nominal command of Hungarian. I’d worked hard among some Szeklers and Gypsies in Romania to learn a little bit. I could get by for this, at least.

I got my ticket, but the lady at the window attempted to explain about switching trains at this village called Ukk. You can’t miss it. The train stops and you have to get on a bus to a town south of there and get on a different train. Can’t miss it.

The trip along Transdanubia north of Lake Balaton was scenic like Kansas. Fields forever and 14 trees. We slowed to stops along the way. I’d know it when I see it. Can’t miss it. I had even used my command of the language to let the ticket guy know I needed to know when we pulled into Ukk. I watched out the window. I’m on it.

See, I was too far back on the train. We stopped at a station and I expected a mass exodus. We all had to get off, right? Wrong. I didn’t see the sign for Ukk until the train started moving again. The conductor-ticket-dude smirked at me. Seriously? No exodus. I don’t remember more than 1 or 2 people getting off past my door at this place. So, the train went north at this juncture. I had no choice. I got off at the next stop, Janoshaza. I explained in broken Hungarian my ticket was for Ljubljana. They had me wait. They hand re-wrote my ticket. I was to go to Szambathely then to Zalaegerszeg and then from thence onto the Slovenian frontier. It was now a couple hours past when my train was to cross into Slovenia. I was finally getting in my last train to get there. Zalaegerszeg was behind me and the sun was setting fast. Fast. That’s not the motto of this train. It stopped at every single village or place where two roads meet. It was now well past the time I was to be IN Ljubljana and I had to text my friends who were going to pick me up ASAP or else they would wonder where I was. The cellular reception was spotty at best out that far (thanks, Vodafone).

I arrived to find lights going out at the Hodos train station. I scrambled to the door and knocked trying to find out when the next train to Ljubljana was coming. 4 or 5 AM, as I recall. I’m going on in Hungarian, not knowing on which side of the line this station sits. Yes, you can stay here until then, the conductor tells me. People were walking over to observe this rare specimin, the bilingual American. I get to where I want to ask if I can sleep on the bench. I don’t know that word in Hungarian. I inquired if the gentleman spoke English. Stirke one. How about German? Ach, zo. We segued to complete the discussion that way. I’m solid. I got to asking about charging my phone and an outlet. I couldn’t summon up the correct words. Did sir speak Slovene? I was, in point of fact, on that side of the line. Of course he spoke Slovene!

Meanwhile.

Two gentlemen of a Laurel and Hardy nature meandered up to this group watching the American trick pony do linguistic gymnastics. The tall thin one had a gun and badge. Short, stalky man had the badge san armament. They needed my passport. What was this suspiscious American doing trying to enter Slovenia late at night? Why did he speak Hungarian and Slovene? I speak them poorly, I replied. And Russian and Romanian, too. I got two very non-plussed stares.

Oh, Paul. How could you not keep your mouth shut? The shorter gentleman disappeared to make inquiries of which I can make fairly good guesses.

Long story made short, I had to call in on the American Embassy the following day. Forever etched into my memory are the words: “Americans speak only English. Everyone knows that. If you speak more than that, then you just generate paperwork for me. Just play dumb.”