#if it was higgs then that would mean his body physically made it back from that beach

[vyragosa]

i literally think fragile is in that red coffin

“Futures are fragile things, but my daughter's made of stronger stuff.”

“ But remember what a coffin's for. Preserving that which was most important to us. The precious, the fleeting. The fragile.”

[toweroftickles]

Choose Your Fighter!

SUPER SMASH BROS. TK HEADCANONS

This list is planned to be updated with more characters in the future. I intend at some point to do full lists for Sonic & Kingdom Hearts characters, and those will be moved to the “already done” section, which will have its own dedicated image.

Mushroom Kingdom Princesses

Most-to-Least Ticklish: Rosalina, Daisy, Peach

Peach: Has a chirpy Disney Princess-esque giggle. Daisy: Freaks out and sometimes snorts. Rosalina: The sound of her laughter is just lovely. Musical, hearty, and full.

Whereas Rosalina thinks tickling is fun but Daisy can’t stand it, Peach doesn’t really have a strong opinion…or particularly strong reactions at all. Kind of an airhead, that one.

Even though she hates being tickled, Daisy is the princess with the mean streak, and easily the most devious ’ler in the group. She’s not afraid to use tickling to cheat in a fight.

Acting as a mother figure to the Lumas is Rosalina’s responsibility as a caregiver. She has the most gentle, flittering touch with her long fingernails and loves to cheer the Lumas with tickles to watch them bounce and hear their ethereal squeaks of joy.

Many Lumas will often swarm Rosalina, spinning around her and making her giggle.

Rosalina’s really sensitive on the back of her neck, but the worst spots for her are the outer edges of her tummy…you know; just above the hips, the love handles, all the soft squishy spots you can really squeeze your fingers into. ^^

Daisy was once tickle-tortured by Tatanga to make her surrender her rule of Sarasaland. It didn't work, but it was fun to watch.

Legend of Zelda - Link (BOTW), Zelda (ALTTP), & Sheik (OoT)

Worst Spots: Ball & arch of left foot, and below the ribcage…and his inner thighs. // The toes and her sides! // Upper right-side ribs, armpits, and heels.

Sheik isn’t just a costume change for Zelda (OoT); it’s an intensely physical metamorphosis…her muscles become tighter, her skin rougher. You’d think the opposite, but strangely, she actually becomes more ticklish in this form.

If you tickle Sheik, prepare for a karate chop or an elbow in the face. She doesn’t tickle, she kills.

BOTW Link is definitely the most ticklish “adult” incarnation of the Hero. He always gets embarrassed. 😂 Zelda likes to tell other girls so they’ll tease him about it (especially Mipha and Urbosa).

Link’s got an unusual tickle spot - down his arm, on his inner elbow.

The other Zeldas is who have so far joined the brawl were older and more serious. This one is big-hearted, cheery, and not at all shy about being ticklish!

She loves to laugh and smile, and might feel the urge to tickle you when you're sad to cheer you up. :)

Samus Aran

Stoic and cold, Samus hates being tickled. She doesn’t smile or laugh very often anyway, but being forced to do it against her will? Hell no.

Her worst spots are her feet (just in general), her lower stomach, and between her ribs.

Her laugh is rough-sounding, hard, but not especially loud. You can hear every pronounced chuckle and gasp from her.

Though the Zero Suit adapts to its user’s body like another skin, it’s made from a thick rubbery material and therefore tickle-proof; you’ll never get her unless she’s fully stripped down.

Partially because of this, Samus is not used to being tickled; it’s a very rare occurrence and even though she’s tough, she doesn’t have much experience resisting.

She had to study pressure points as part of her combat training and is uniquely attuned to detect enemy weaknesses thanks to her heightened Chozo genetics…she’s not a tickler by nature, but if she ever retaliated, she would wreck you.

Feathers don’t seem to work well on her.

Anthony Higgs is the only person in the galaxy who knows she’s ticklish, but he doesn’t tease her or do anything about it. He’s just the only one she trusts enough to tell.

StarFox

Fox is actually pretty ticklish and isn’t exactly crazy about being touched like that. He has to put up with it a lot though, because…unfortunately for him…his girlfriend Krystal has a serious tickle fetish.

On Krystal’s tribal home planet of Cerinia, tickling played a huge part in their societal rituals: bonding, social interaction, dances, and yes...mating & courtship. Krystal completely fails to understand how anyone could not be overcome with excitement by the prospect...she's kind of insatiable. ^^ And those claws...

(That’s why Krystal wasn’t allowed in Smash Bros...during tryouts, she kept pinning her opponents down and tickle-torturing them.)

Krystal's favorite spot to tickle is feet. Her favorite spot to be tickled is her tummy. She's very teasy and evil with her taunting.

Falco really gets angry when he’s tickled…you can always tell how hard he’s struggling not to laugh. 😂 Lots of hard “k” sounds through his grinding teeth.

Fox is good at holding it in, but he's got one small spot in the arch of his foot that will instantly make him start laughing. Krystal often promises not to go there first...but totally lies. That frustrates him. XD

Rumor has it that Wolf might be a bit ticklish in a few places, but definitely not too much. Nobody really knows all the details.

Pokemon Trainers (Red/Ash & Leaf)

Worst Spots: The sides (especially under the ribs) and his heels. // Between the toes, the knees, and the tummy!

Red becomes physically helpless, but Leaf kicks and flails.

While his laugh is gaspy and sometimes sounds a little feeble, she’s a squealer.

Very susceptible to Vine Whip tickle attacks from their Ivysaurs. In fact, they’ve been known to occasionally do that to each other during their more-playful Pokemon battles!

Leaf enjoys teaching her Pokémon the “Tickle” command, particularly the Grass-types of her namesake. It’s not one of her go-to moves, but it always makes her laugh.

When he was littler, Red used to get all nervous whenever he saw the Tickle Belt episode of SpongeBob on TV (he totally still does).

Do you know how bad a Charizard tongue can tickle? They do. 😂

⬆️ lulz

Sonic

It’s canon (or some form of it) that Sonic has a wild, energetic laugh when tickled. He’s a wiggler and will never, ever hold still…too much jumpy caffeinated energy.

His death spot is his toes, but really, Sonic’s whole body is almost equally ticklish. One little poke anywhere will get him into hysterics. He hates that. 😆

Sonic often teases his little buddy Tails with vicious tickle attacks. But even though that spinning butt-copter would make a perfect weapon, the fox boy is usually too timid (and having too much fun!) to retaliate.

When it comes to Amy, however…Sonic is almost always on the receiving end. XD

That down-throw move of his…the one where he pins his opponent on the ground and drills against their midriffs in a spinning ball of bristly quills 👀…has spelled KO for a few hapless challengers.

Wii Fit Trainers (M&F)

Wii Fit Trainer(f) genuinely loves being tickled, especially on her feet! And has no shame in admitting it. In her badly-drawn eyes, it’s fun, the endorphin boost makes for a good post-workout cooldown, and hey…all that laughter is great for the abdominals! “Work hard to tone that tummy!” as the quote goes.

She’s got a soft, pretty laugh that bubbles over with enthusiasm. One of those girls who tends to say “That tickles!” over and over in between her giggles, for no real reason…she just sort of likes expressing it!

One of her favorite things is to get tickled (or to tickle her boyfriend 😉) while on or using gym equipment. (Tickle crunches ❤️)

She’s just the most wholesomely encouraging tickler, always trying to make sure you’re having fun. (“Remember to exhale!” “Come on, honey; you can handle it! 😊”)

Even so, her boyfriend often feels the need to tell her to not be “too mean” to him. He doesn’t like being tickled nearly as much as her, but he doesn’t mind it. It’s just, she gets so…enthusiastic.

With lungs stretched out and strengthened by all those Deep Breathing exercises, both of them possess pretty good endurance. They can get tickled for a good while without asking for release.

They're also both talented massage practitioners. So that can often lead to other things.

Sora

Look at how huge his feet are, and just ponder that for a sec. ........yeah. This kid is crazy ticklish; almost as bad as Pit (but not quite).

His worst spots are the balls of his feet, his sides, and his tummy.

Sora could accurately be described as “fun-loving.” Energetic, happy-go-lucky. He’ll definitely get you back, and if he discovers you’re ticklish, watch out! >:)

(There’s a scene in KH2 where he goes into ler mode on Tron but for the life of me I can’t find an isolated clip.)

He's not the most skilled tickler - his spidery hands flail around wherever they can reach - but his sheer energy more than makes up for it. Sora will pin you down and tickle you all over until you're totally out of breath, grinning like a monkey all the while.

Growing up, he used to get tickled by his friends all the time...Kairi, Riku, Tidus, Wakka, and Selphie could make him do anything. He kinda hated it, but...also kind of liked it? (especially when Kairi did it 🙈 he’s such a lee)

But that doesn’t mean he’s just gonna volunteer for it! 😂

Inklings

You might not guess just from appearances, but tickle attacks can pop up frequently during Splatfests.

That’s not always intentional - those gigantic brushes and paint rollers are just as good at spreading laughter as they are puddles of ink!

Plus…Inkling goo contains a chemical that amplifies electrical signals in the skin. You know how in Smash Bros, characters who are splattered take more damage? Well… 😏

It’s a society of artists! Many Inklings express themselves with tattoos or giving one another body paint, especially at parties, festivals, and the like. Everyone gets the giggles at some point.

The famous Inkling girl mascot kind of has little alternating schoolgirl crushes on Pit & Young Link, and occasionally finds herself trying to tickle them without even thinking about it.

She's most ticklish on her feet and behind her knees.

Characters I’ve Already Done!

Kid Icarus (Pit, Dark Pit, Palutena)

Arms (Min Min)

Lucina (sort of)

[serpentemvectem]

Life As A Lie | Chapter 2 - New Perspectives

When you had first learned of Hogwarts, you had never expected it to be how it is. The halls were stone and cold, only warmed by the flurry of students running throughout the castle. Yet, there were still parts that were as frigid and grim as a barren, foggy graveyard at dusk, even when populated by the young students. Last years events had somewhat unsettled you; Harry Potter was lucky to be alive, in your opinion. How does someone beat you-know-who not only once as a baby, but twice? This baffled you. Although you most certainly did not support the dark wizard, you did recognize his great power and strength. It completely boggled your mind that Harry could stand up to him like that. Well, he is named the Chosen One for a reason, you thought quietly. 

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“Now, everyone. Get upon your brooms and hover slightly above the ground.” Madame Hooch’s voice split the air sharply. You mounted your broom and began to hover above the ground.

“That’s it, Miss Snape! Very good! Now, everyone. Try flying around a bit. Not too high - we wouldn’t want any injures now, would we?” She snickered. No one joined her, but they followed her directions. Your broom went higher and higher and soon enough, you were quite high up. You had full control over the broom and felt oddly comfortable despite being so high and vulnerable. You spotted a dark figure in the far left of the field, watching you intently. You squinted slightly to decipher who was eyeing you, but they soon disappeared into the shadows of the castle. You shrugged it off and continued flying around, impressing your classmates. Maybe you loved the feeling of the cool air hitting your face as you flew around, or maybe you loved the attention and awe you received - maybe even a bit of both. Either way, you felt an extreme rush of adrenaline throughout your whole body, tingling through your veins. 

“Wow Y/N, you're quite the showoff aren't you?” Draco snickered, as you came back to the ground.

“Just displaying my abilities.” You replied, with a small smile and a wink. 

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You slumped down and exhaled a sigh of exhaustion on the black velvet couch in the Slytherin common room. You pulled out your herbology textbook, hoping to squeeze in some last minute studying before finally being able to relax for an hour or two before your potions class. You were reading about gillyweed when you felt the couch sink down next to you. You try to ignore it and further immerse yourself in the gillyweed section, desperately trying to focus. Herbology was your worst class, after all. 

“I never liked herbology, to be honest.” A deep, raspy voice spoke. You slowly tore your eyes from the textbook and turned to the boy next to you. His dirty blonde hair was tussled and his lips curled into a small smile. 

“Higgs. Terence Higgs. I’m a 4th year.” He smiled warmly. Suddenly, you had forgotten about your herbology studies, and found yourself smiling back at him, your cheeks turning a bit warm and pink. 

“Y/N Snape. 2nd.” 

“Oh, I know who you are.” He smirked. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“I’ve seen you on that broom of yours. Quite the little flyer, aren't you?” He eyed you. 

“That was you today? Watching the flying lessons?” He smiled in response.

He drew a deep breath in and shifted his position. “Marcus and I think you could make a great addition to the team. As a chaser?” He raised his eyebrows and bit his bottom lip ever so slightly. 

“What? Me? You think I would do well on the team?” You chuckled, somewhat confused. I mean, you had barely ever flown before! What makes Flint and Higgs think you would be a good recruit for the team?

“Yeah. You’ve got great control. Outstanding potential. So? How does it sound?” 

“I mean, uh, yeah. That sounds great, thanks. When do practices start?”

“Well, we’ve got one today. If you’re up for it. We can introduce you to the team. Flint is asking Malfoy now. He thinks he'd be a decent Seeker. How ‘bout you? Malfoy? Quite - determined - isn’t he?” 

You sucked in both your cheeks and looked at Higgs. “Yeah,” you said with an exhale. “You could say that.” 

“Well, I’ll meet you here then. After your last class. And I’ll take you down to meet the team, yeah?”

“Sure.”

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“I mean, he is quite cute, isn't he?” You walked through the halls with Ella by your side. You had just told her about your little run-in with Higgs. 

“Cute? He’s GORGEOUS Y/N! I cannot believe that Terence Higgs formally invited you to join the quidditch team! You're either really talented, or I’d say someone has a bit of a crush!” Ella side eyed you and raised her eyebrows. You both giggled as you continued into potions class and said your goodbyes to Ella, who carried on to her Defense Against the Dark Arts class.  

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“Today we will be learning about the Cure for Boils Potion.” Your father spoke with a monotone voice. “I will be pairing you all up, so don’t get too... excited.” He eyed Harry Potter and Ron Weasley as they both huffed in frustration. 

“Potter and Crabbe, Malfoy and Weasley, Y/N and Granger...”

“Jesus Harry, he’s really trying to get us in a pickle isn’t he? Pairing us up with our mortal enemies” Ron questioned, a worried look on his face, as Harry looked at him with sympathetic look. You couldn't help but giggle slightly as you watched Crabbe and Malfoy bicker with Harry and Ron. God, the class hadn't even started and they were already not getting along. 

“Right then, lets start shall we?” Hermione sat next to you and started pulling out her textbook. “I’m not going to lie, Y/N, I am quite glad I got paired with you. You’re not too bad for a Slytherin.” She said as she raised her eyebrows, almost with a condescending look. 

“Thanks? Not to mention I am the professor’s daughter, so that could be a bit of a bonus for us.” You grinned slyly. 

“A bonus will hardly be necessary.” 

You continued to both work on the potions intently. Once finished, you called over your father. 

“Right, daddy! Tell us how we did.” You looked at him proudly. He inspected your potion and looked at you both. 

“I must say, you two work quite well together. Especially given your houses. Well done, Y/N. And Miss Granger.” He walked away with a trail of black fabric following him. You looked at Hermione and laughed as you heard Ron and Malfoy arguing about the potion formula. 

“Honestly Malfoy, I would've thought you would be good at this considering the professor is a Slytherin kiss ass!” 

“Shut your mouth, Weasel. Doesn't mean I have to be talented at potions.” He spat back. “It’s not like I’m related to him. God, you gingers really are angry, firing rascals aren't you? Can’t stop for a minute and shut the hell u-” 

“Piss of Malfoy! Don’t talk to him like that!” Harry interjected. You and Hermione exchanged glances and rolled your eyes, decided you both better stop this argument before it got more... physical. 

“Alright boys calm down.” You walked over. “Honestly, you both really are the absolute epitome of house rivalry! Learn to just ignore each other! Really, its not too hard!” You said with a small smile and wide eyes. 

“Right. And Ronald. Don't provoke anything. You all just need to learn to get along. We’re all at the same school after all.” Hermione added. The two of you stood before the 4 boys and crossed your arms. The boys looked at you both, a look of embarrassment on their faces. It made you laugh really. They looked like a few puppies who had just been caught chewing a pair of expensive shoes. They knew you girls were right, but hell would freeze over before any of them admitted it. 

The class continued and soon enough, Snape dismissed you all. 

“Bye, Y/N!” Hermione said as she left. 

“See you later!” You smiled. 

“Friendly with the Gryffindors are you now?” You turned to see Draco standing there, his arms crossed. 

“Doesn't hurt to have a few friends, Draco. You should try it sometime!” You said sarcastically, patting his chest as you walked out of the door. You leaned back into the doorway, looking at him. “Coming to quidditch practice?” “Uh, yeah. I’ll walk with you.” He headed over to you. 

“Higgs wanted me to meet him in the common room beforehand. I’m sure you can come too.” 

The two of you walked towards the Slytherin common room. Higgs was seated right where he was earlier. 

“Ready?” He questioned, looking at the two new recruits. 

“Yep!” You responded. 

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“And this, is Marcus Flint, Slytherin team captain.” You had just been introduced to the Slytherin quidditch team. They all seemed fine, but you weren't sure you could be close to any of them. With the exception of Draco, Higgs, and Marcus, of course. Marcus intimidated you a bit. Something about him seemed... off. But you ignored it nonetheless. He was team captain, and you wanted to be on his good side, mostly so he would favor you in games. 

You started practice doing some drills. Scoring with quaffles and dodging bludgers. It was quite fun, you have to admit. There was a thrill to dodging the bludgers, and an extreme adrenaline rush after scoring with the quaffle. 

You dismounted your broom and walked towards the locker rooms. 

“Hey, Y/N?” You whipped around, startled by the voice.

“Oh, Higgs. You scared me.” 

“Ah, sorry.” He said with a small smile. “I just wanted to say, uh-”

“Yes, Higgs?” You say with a small laugh, looking at the nervous older boy. 

“Well done today. You did great, ‘specially for your first time playing.” He gave you a small nod and smile, then walked away. 

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A few months had passed. Every practice, you were getting better and better. It started spreading throughout the school.

“Did you hear? Snape’s daughters’ quite the addition to Slytherins’ team!”

“Y/N? What... Snape’s daughter?”

“She is such a good chaser!”

You heard people whispering about it as you walked through the halls. 

“I’ve heard she's stolen a few of the hearts of some of the players!”

Uh, yeah. Sure. You? Stealing hearts? No way.

“Oh Y/N! There you are! Hey, uh, do you have a minute?” Ella pulled you aside. “I need to tell you something!” 

“Yes?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. What could be so important? Knowing Ella, probably nothing huge. She was a bit of a drama queen sometimes. 

“Okay... so you know how everyones talking about you being the new ‘Queen of Quidditch-”

“What? I haven’t heard that! Only that I’m quite good.” You said as-a-matter-of-factly, a smug grin on your face.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. The point is. I think I’ve found your new king!” You furrowed your brows.  “Apparently, according to Pansy, who heard Crabbe and Goyle talking about how Draco said that Blaise heard tha-”

“Get to the point Ella! What did you hear exactly?” She drew in a deep breath, an excited look growing on her face. 

“HIGGS LIKES YOU AND HE WANTS TO ASK YOU OUT.” She exploded. 

You were pretty taken aback, to be honest. Terence Higgs was the Slytherin heartthrob. Besides Draco Malfoy, of course. But you were shocked. 

“He’s gonna ask you tonight Y/N! What are you gonna say? C’mon, you better say yes! That would be the talk of the school! Please PLEASE say yes.” She looked at you pleadingly. 

“I-I’m a bit... young. Aren't I? I mean, he's a 4th year. 2 years older than me. But he is cute-”

“Just say yes! At least for the popularity. C’mon Y/N! Even non-Slytherin girls are obsessed with him.”

“I’ll see. Depends on how I feel in the moment I guess...”

“Right. Well, I have to go. Get to class. Y’know. I’ll see you later and you better be Terence Higgs’ girlfriend by then.” She smirked at you and disappeared into the next hall. You smiled back at her, only for it to fade as she was out of sight. 

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You stared into space as you sat on your bed. You read the note over again. 

Hey, 

Meet me at the astronomy tower at 8:00pm. Tonight. 

See you then,

T 

You look at the time. 7:45. You didn't know what to do. Yes, you admired Higgs. He was an extraordinary quidditch player, smart, funny, nice - at least to you. He was a great guy. But you were young. Just turned 13 to be exact. You had never had a boyfriend before. And he was 2 years older than you. And your dad? What would he think? You somewhat had feelings for him, but the problem was whether they were real or if they were just there because of the attention he gave you. Especially from an older boy. That kind of attention can definitely cloud your head. But, it would give you a great advantage at quidditch. Not to mention, if you broke his heart, would you be kicked off the team? 

No. That cannot happen. Biting your bottom lip as the two outcomes battled for a spot inside your head, you finally sighed a deep breath, realizing you had come to a conclusion.  

7:55. Better go then. 

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The cool air hit your fact as you made it to the top of the tower. You had never been up here before. It was beautiful. The castle. The lake. The trees. It made you realize how much you loved this school and everything around it. 

“Beautiful, isn't it?” You whipped around and met eyes with Higgs. “I came up here when I was a first year. It was the only thing I could appreciate about this school at first. But it gave me another perspective. Sometimes, its good to have another perspective on things. Don't ya think?” You paused, not sure how to respond. 

“It’s always good to see things in a different way. Gives you some insight. And I’m suspecting you love Hogwarts now?” You asked with a grin. 

He shrugged. “Well, if it weren't for Hogwarts, I wouldn't have met you, would I?” 

“Guess not.” There was a moment of silence between the two of you.

“Y/N. I wanted to ask you something. I feel as though we’ve gotten quite close the past few months. Yes?” “For sure. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be the Quidditch Queen, now would I?” You joked. 

“Nope, you wouldn't.” He chuckled. “I can’t deny it, I’ve caught some feelings for you Y/N. And I know, I’m a bit older but age is just a number, right? Gotta see it from a new perspective, you see?” 

You paused. “Yeah.”

“What I’m getting at is I want you as more than a friend.” “You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“I, uh- yes. That is what I am asking.” He looked down. 

You smiled, eying the suddenly shy boy. “Alright, Higgs. I accept.” 

“Really?”

“New perspectives, right?” 

“Yeah...new perspectives.” 

You smiled at him and you both sat down looking out over the castle. The sunset had cast a beautiful orange glow over the lake. It was quite possibly one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. The pair of you sat there for about 30 minutes, taking in the heavenly view. Suddenly, a slight rumble interrupted the serene silence. 

“Oops. Pardon me. Just a bit hungry.” Higgs stated.

“Wanna go to the Great Hall and eat? You know, since we’re a couple now.” You playfully nudged him. 

“Race you there!” He got up and ran down the steps.

“Hey! Not fair!” You chase after him. 

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You knocked on the door of the potions classroom. 

“Daddy? Can I come in?” 

“Yes?” You heard your father. 

“I have something to tell you.”

He looked at you, clearly thinking the worst. 

“Please don't tell me you went into the forbidden forest at night.” 

“What? Of course not! Daddy, I have a boyfriend.” The gothic professors face relaxed for a second. “Don’t worry! He’s a Slytherin. And he plays quidditch.”

“And who is this... boy... may I ask?” 

“Uh. Higgs. Terence Higgs. Know him?” 

Your fathers face tensed, then relaxed. “Yes. I know the boy. He's a bit older than you. Quite skilled at potions.” He paused. 

“Sooo do you accept?” You said, innocently looking up to him and interlocking your hands behind your back as you bounced up and down on your tippy toes. 

“I suppose.” You gave your father a hug. “But, if he hurts you, I won't be afraid to go after him.”

“Don’t worry daddy. I think that is already quite clear.” You said with a smile and kissed his cheek before skipping out of the classroom. 

Thank god your father approved of this. Now that is something you did not expect. 

[ultravioletsoul]

Do you think deep down that Higgs wishes things were different? That he wasn't the way he was? I just really want to love the man and put the pieces back together for him :( I also like how Sam was all for just beating the shit out of Higgs and leaving it at that....

Hey there, nonny!!! Wow, that’s a complicated question that probably has no easy answer, as people may have different interpretations of Higgs as a character. Of course he’s done awful things, of course he’s an unapologetic asshole (which I like btw, that’s his role xD) and he seemed to be having a good time wreaking havoc all over the place.

First, I have to make it clear that I haven’t played the game (gaaah I’m on pc and I’d like to pre-order as soon as I can spare some money ;A;) so there are many details I still don’t know. However, I have watched the cutscenes and read Higgs’ journal and, boy, did it break my heart…

Long story short, and at the risk of bordering headcanon territory… what you imply may not sound so far-fetched.

Spoilers beneath the cut!

His dad died before he was even born, his mom died not long after his birth and he was left under the care of his uncle, his mom’s brother. Higgs described him as an ugly and violent man full of anger, and by the looks of it the man wasn’t right in the head and lived terrified of the monsters lurking outside. His uncle locked him up in an underground shelter, never allowed Higgs to go outside and told him it was a very dangerous place. He made his nephew believe that they were the only ones who had survived and only terrible demons remained. As a little kid, Higgs’ only glimpse of the world had been through a monitor screen. 

Heck, the first time Higgs even saw the sky and the mountains and felt the air on his face, was after his uncle died. Higgs was a kid who needed to leave that place, something inside him was begging him to get out of there because he felt that he would die in body and soul if he stayed any longer. So he planned his escape and hoarded supplies to take with him, but when his uncle caught on he gave Higgs a severe beating. It wasn’t the first time he subjected the kid to physical abuse, beatings were the norm for Higgs… no matter the reason. Higgs always tried to convince himself that was his uncle’s way to show he loved him and wanted to protect him from the evils of the world, but in some of his writings Higgs wasn’t too sure of it. In another entry, he compared his uncle to a saint and someone to whom he owed everything, his life and his powers, which obviously was just a coping mechanism for him.

However, that was the worst beating Higgs had received in his life. His uncle had lost it, he made their place a wreck and tried to murder Higgs by strangulation so Higgs was forced to kill him in self-defense by stabbing him in the neck with a kitchen knife. He probably was barely a teenager… and he had killed his uncle. No matter how abusive the man had been all those years, the experience was still very traumatic for Higgs and affected him deeply because that man was the only family he had, the only meaningful connection in his life no matter how messed up it was. But cutting him loose was the only way to leave that shelter that had been his home and prison for so many years, the only way to be free.

As you can imagine, growing up under recurrent physical and emotional abuse + social isolation + murdering someone at such a young age wasn’t a good combination and it surely caused some serious mental problems for him. Not to mention he also suffered of DOOMS which is a condition that, apart from chiral allergies, torments people with terrible nightmares about the end of the world. These dreams might have exacerbated the mental conditions he was carrying from childhood and we can’t forget his constant exposure to chiralium. His high level of DOOMS made him powerful, true, but it also worsened those issues turning him into a ‘homo demens’: a mad man, someone who has lost all sanity.

Higgs grew up longing to taste freedom, something he didn’t have as a child, and something he envisioned for America once he discovered there was a whole world out there waiting for him… a place where people could be free. Which is something that inspired him to try and unite the country by making deliveries and keeping people connected. At first it was because he was a kid who needed to eat, but in time he took some pride in the fact people had to rely on him and it might have given him a purpose, something to hold onto and keep him grounded. His uncle had always been against reconnecting again, he always preferred isolation and the idea of living in their shelter until the day they died, but Higgs wasn’t content with that. He tried to be something different from what his uncle taught him to be… he worked towards strengthening the community, he sounded genuinely worried and frustrated about the state of affairs and wanted to change the situation, aware it would take some big efforts before there were substantial improvements. But his intentions began to degenerate the more time passed and you can notice the megalomaniac shift in tone of his journals. In the end, in his own derangement and delusions of grandeur, he might have come to the conclusion that all was futile and it was better to just let the world go to shit in the next stranding because what good it was living like that. I may be wrong, though.

All things considered, and looking back at what he went through, I think it’s safe to say that deep down in some small corner of his mind he would have wanted his life to be different. Because being Higgs Monaghan never gave him a lot of happiness, no matter how many masks he wore to hide the scared and lonely kid that he tried to bury and forget.

Lmao that fight tho, they just beat the crap out of each other in a good old-fashioned fist fight. And when they were lying on the beach, covered in tar, and hurting all over, Higgs just laughs it off and makes some sarcastic remark like the lil shit he is. Sam was tempted to smile too XD

In another world, perhaps those two could have been good friends :’v 

I hope that answered your question nonny, and thanks for the ask!! Please, by all means, love this guy. There’s nothing wrong with that!! Don’t feel bad for having a special place for him in your kokoro, god knows he needs a lot of love.

Much love to you, too ♥♥♥ 

[chloca-cola]

Defenseless Chapter 3

This chapter is heavy, I hope I dont miss any trigger warnings. If I do, please feel free to let me know and I will add them in

TW: Abuse, blood, murder, acts of violence, neglectful parents, mentions of alcohol abuse

Word count: 2,160

~~

Mara couldn't stand her older brother Trevor, he was so mean to her and her little sister Julia, always torturing them in some way. Usually physically, she had a burn mark on her right ankle from Trevor and one of their father's cigars. What had her father done about it? 

"Oh, you'll be fine, he's just being a boy." That's all he had done, and her alcoholic mother just ignored it all. Her brother is how she even learned she could repatriate, and once he realized he could kill her multiple times, he did it just to feel joy.

One day, when Mara was 11, she had finally had enough and she would learn that very same day she could teleport, Trevor was 15 and much stronger than her or Julia, who was just 9. Mara came home to find Trevor had strangled Julia to death, she gasped, Mara being the only sufferer of DOOMs between the siblings, she knew Julia was gone for good. Her noises alerted him to her presence. Terror shot through her veins like icy water when he looked over his shoulder at her, a crazy glint in his eyes.

She was about to scream and run, but he pounced on to her quickly, intending to kill her too.

She bucked him off of her, wanting to just scramble away, hoping this was all just a bad dream, when he pulled a knife from his pocket, grabbing her ankle and pulling her back to him. He straddled her, his corn silk blond hair falling into his face.

"I've always wanted to carve your face like a Jack-o-lantern, you gonna let me, Mara?" Her heart felt like it was gonna beat out of her chest, as tears swam into her vision. Where were her parents right now? She began to scream as loudly as she could, wanting to alert someone to her imminent danger. Her legs were kicking, trying to get leverage to knock him off of her again, as the light glinted off the blade as he brought it down to her face 

Digging the point in at her hair line, he began digging the blade in, dragging it slowly down her face, barely missing her eye. She just kept screaming and wishing she was somewhere else. 

And as if by magic, poof, she was in her parent's room. 

She heard Trevor cursing down the hall in Julia's room,  she wiped the blood from her face and into her snowy platinum hair, giving her a hellish look as she crawled on all fours to her father's bedside nightstand. 

Digging through the drawer, she found the object of her desire, her father's gun. She fumbled with it, trying to remember in her panicked state how to use it, her hands trembling as she heard Trevor begin searching through the rooms for her.

"Where are you, you little bitch?!" He growled animalistic in his anger, Mara finally turned the safety off as Trevor burst through the door. Her throat was aching from screaming for so long, she tried to scream again, but nothing came out. She trained the gun on his head and pulled the trigger. His head snapped back, his body swaying for a second before he collapsed on the floor in a heap. 

"Mara?! Trevor?! Julia?!" It was her mother, she came into the room and screamed from the bloody mess that was all over the walls, door frame and out in the hallway. "What did you do to your sweet brother?!" Mara tried to speak, but only a squeaking sound was made, she looked down at her blood covered hands, which were still shaking and she dropped the gun on the floor.

Her parents blamed her for both Trevor's and Julia's death, threw her under the bus, saying that they didn't understand why she would want to hurt either of them, especially their sweet Trevor. Mara's larynx had been permanently damaged from all her screaming, leaving her with a graveyard whisper of a voice.  She was deemed a menace to society and locked away in a psychiatric ward, where she stayed for the next 10 years. 

She never spoke to the psychiatrist, not until she got word that her parents had passed. Finally feeling safe, Mara showed the doctor every scar that Trevor left on her, told him everything that happened, that she is a repatriate and he killed her numerous times, finding it funny that she could come back, and finally that she found Trevor over her sister's body. What she had done was self defense. 

She wasn't sure if the doctor would believe her, but something in her confession held the conviction of the innocent and after ten years the psychiatrist stated she was not a threat to herself or others and was exonerated of her charges.

Mara couldn't fit in with society, everything was so strange to her after so many years of being alone. She decided it would be best for her just to disappear, so she gathered what she could carry, and left the city forever.

-

Higgs was laying on Mara's old couch, staring up at the ceiling, not being able to sleep. He kept replaying in his head the look Mara had given him that night he tried to kill her, she had been trying to break free from her restraints, her whispery voice cursing him, and saying she wasn't going to teleport away until she got to kick his ass. It wasn't until Higgs took his mask off and revealed himself to her did she fall silent and still. Her seafoam green eyes held so much betrayal in them. That look caused him physical pain, he was begging her with his eyes to jump away. He knew she could, and he wanted her to.

"Oh, Mara, sweet little loner." He purred to her, leaning down close to her face. "Bet ya wish ya didn't save me now, hm?" His voice was teasing, smooth as honey, but inside he hated to see her looking at him that way.  Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she spit in his face, causing him to chuckle, he wiped her saliva off his cheek, before running his tongue along her scar. She turned her head and bit down on his tongue and he yelped, jerking away, and that's when she had teleported away from him.

He had been relieved she finally left, sighing and spitting blood that pooled in his mouth on the ground.

Higgs was brought from his thoughts when he heard Mara's soft whimpers coming from her room. He debated if he should check on her, after all the cold shoulder he completely deserved. However, once the sounds became more distressed, he quickly went to her room to find her body thrashing in her bed as if she was fighting someone off. He knew she was dreaming about Trevor again, he had been with her a few times before when she had the nightmare. Luckily with DOOMs gone, it did seem less intense.

He moved quickly to her bedside, grabbing her shoulder, causing her to bolt upright, her hands balled into fists, punching wildly at the air. Higgs hopped back quickly, barely missing catching a right hook to his jaw. 

"Easy, honey, it's just me, ya were having a nightmare." Mara's eyes focused on Higgs' face, her breathing erratic, panic evident on her face. She touched her scar, looking at her fingers to make sure she wasn't bleeding and she let her body relax, and she scooted back to lean on her headboard, rubbing her face with her hands.

"Sorry if I woke you." She offered softly, and Higgs waved a hand dismissively.

"S'alright, I wasn't asleep yet." He assured her plopping beside her on the bed and she gave him a look of audacity, which he chuckled at. "Oh please darlin', like we've never shared a bed before." He teased, blush heated her cheeks and she's glad the only light in the room was from what little moonlight was outside, so hopefully he couldn't see it. She could barely make out his features in the soft silvery glow, so she was positive it was the same for him.

"That was a long time ago." She teased back, even though that primal part of her brain was telling her to abort mission, she felt him slowly winning her back over and really, she both hated and loved it. She had missed him, even after he tried to kill her, it made her feel weak. 

That primal instinct went into overdrive when she felt him shifting in the bed, was he moving closer to her? No, his back was to her and she relaxed again, sighing in a mildly annoyed fashion, pushing on his back with a foot, and he chuckled, and she could see him lift his head and look over his shoulder at her.

"Hey, I did not say you could lay here." But even her voice held no conviction to her own ears.

"Sweetheart, we both know you're not kickin' me outta the bed. I'm gonna be right here, just in case ya have another one of those nightmares about ya brother." The comment took her off guard, as he laid his head back down on the pillow, it's almost as if he really is back to his old self, and a soft smile pulled at the corners of her lips, and she slid down under her covers, pulling them up to her chin and rolled over to where her back was facing his, letting out a long sigh.

"Did ya miss me? Did ya cry when ya thought I was dead?" The questions were not mocking, but honest curiosity on his part, his voice was rather quiet, as if he wanted someone to have missed him if he was really dead. Mara stared at the wall, truth was, she had cried. 

She had gotten a visit from Sam, he knew she had been close to Higgs before everything went down, she lamented it to him on a few occasions. 

"I just wanted you to know...Higgs is dead." Sam had said in his normal gruff voice, but Mara could tell it hurt him to tell her, she had hung her head for a few beats, absorbing his words. Higgs was...dead? The words hit her like a truck and her head snapped back up to look at Sam, pain evident in her pale eyes, and he chewed on his bottom lip, unsure how she was going to act.

"Did you kill him, Sam?" Her eyes were hard as stone as she observed his micro expressions before he finally shook his head.

"Fragile did it." He confessed, Mara averted her eyes to the floor again, nodding after a few beats.

"Ok." She said in her trademark no nonsense fashion, and Sam blinked in surprise, and after he said nothing, Mara looked back up at him.

"Ok?" Sam didn't understand what she had seen in Higgs, granted she knew him before Amelie got to him, so he was definitely expecting a lot more of a reaction.

"Thank you for telling me, Sam." He blinked a few more times before finally nodding goodbye to her and she slowly shut the door. That's when her armor had cracked, she sank down to the floor, sobbing softly into her hands. She wasn't sure how long she had cried for him, but she had.

"I did. Yes." Her voice was as soft as a ghosts sigh when she confessed, sadness thick in her voice. At first, Higgs said nothing, he just felt a pressure in his chest that he couldn't explain. "Higgs?" Mara lifted her own head to look over her shoulder at him and he rolled over onto his back. She followed his action, rolling onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Just admit ya love me." He said in his teasing way, his words oozing with natural charm, and he finally got what he was after; Mara laughed. It wasn't long, but he got rewarded with her breathy giggle before she placed both of her hands on his shoulder and shoved him out of the bed and onto the floor. 

A loud 'oof' escaped him as he crashed onto the hard surface. Dazed, he looked back up towards the bed to see her looking down at him, and although he could barely see it, he knew she was smirking at him, a soft sniffling sound came from her, she quickly wiped the tears away.

"You wish." They both shared a laugh, before she moved back to her side of the bed and Higgs crawled back into it.

"Don't hesitate to sleep a little closer to me, I won't bite." Mara scoffed, covering back up again, her back to him once more.

"I will." She stated, matter-of-factly, although humor was still laced in the words. Higgs laughed as he settled under the covers and finally fell asleep.

~~~

@savage-rhi @disneymarina (if anyone else wants tagged just ask!)

[madammaria]

So, Death Stranding. Weird game to say the least.

—— Warning for spoilers and bad writing from me if you care ——

The most prevalent and obvious emotion I got from playing this game was loneliness. Sure you have BB with you, but they’re a BABY so not much for company/conversation. The main gameplay loop is hauling your ass along with various packages across the varyingly blighted and barren landscape that’s the corpse of the USA which is so diminished to be the United Cities of America. CITIES. Not even states anymore just CITIES.

And all of it is done against the silence of the world. Sure there’s a music player because Kojima wanted to share these cool tunes he put in the game and at appropriate points of the story music just plays, but despite the tech Sam doesn’t even have a mobile music player so no car karaoke for you.

As for other people? The closest you get to interacting with other players is seeing what they left behind. Packages/buildings/bodies in the Seam AND THAT IS ALL. Physical interaction? Fuck no, so don’t expect to be able to plop around a timefall shelter with three other players and do funny dances. Talking? Closest you get is shouting into the void and hearing an echo which might just be you imagining your own voice. Some of the closest and most direct help I got was seeing phantoms toss me items in late boss fights, but even those only wear the names of a player but don’t have their hand behind it.

This makes Sam meeting the NPCs all the more precious and connective for me. I don’t mean the usual delivery action of talking to their hologram, but having two characters ACTUALLY PHYSICALLY IN THE SAME ROOM INTERACTING. One of the earliest moments of this for me was meeting the Chiral Artist’s daughter. Seeing that door pop open and watching her walk out? God! I wanted nothing more than to reach out and shake her hand but of course I couldn’t because she’s not real and Sam has haepheophobia.

The characters that Sam works with are all with their own hang ups and baggage in life, all stranded in their lives by death. Mama/Målingen is trapped by the BT of her baby and her guilt, which killed her connection to Lockne until she was able to let go and in a miracle they were united again (still wish Mama didn’t have to die but I suppose LockMa is acceptable). Deadman apparently has no soul or beach due to his creation as an artificial being and this obviously isolated him but nobody seemed to treat him as anything less than a real person. Heartman is doing everything to heal his broken heart by reuniting with his family after death so as not to be alone, but all he did was break his flesh heart in an effort to heal his emotional one. Fragile, something that more describes her relationship to other people than herself because although she’s reviled and suspected to be a terrorist that helped Higgs she is a woman of unfailing conviction and a steel spine any Terminator would be jealous of.

Then Bridget and Amelie. Christ how do I say this! Dunno if I can even articulate this right but I’ll try. They were so instrumental in Sam’s life, so ubiquitous and consuming was their ghost. They made him family, but then we find they even made him a bridge baby and are responsible for his status as a repatriate. They bring him in to help them because despite their literal function in life being to wipe out the world, the harbinger of the 6th mass extinction, they want desperately NOT to be confined to their role and to give life a chance Amelie strands her beach away from humanity to give us a chance. We get a slower death, but also a chance at growth and to leave something behind, something for the next inhabitants to grow from and understand. Cliff, Jesus what can I really say about Cliff? He comes in as an enemy hellbent on taking our BB away, a singleminded ghost so bound up in his own regret and desires that he’s even forgetting the reasons behind his actions. To put him to rest and finding that he’s Sam’s father is so fucking cathartic and heartbreaking. (Also he’s hot as fuck let’s be real here ;D) Then Higgs. This. FUCKING. TROLL. Because let’s be real that what he is. He’s a troll, a griefer, that fucking toxic player who only gets off and has fun by destroying other people’s good experiences. It’s fucking sad what happened to him as a kid but doing this as an adult? He made his choice and I was glad to see the rabid fuck put down. Although being the meta dude and pizza troll was a little funny let’s be honest.

The Die-Hardman......fuck he’s hard to write about. He’s the dude who runs BRIDGES, a man who so very believes in the need for the rebirth of America. As the game progresses and we dig deeper, we find him to be the single strand who connects Cliff, Bridget, Amelie and Sam all together. He confessed to Sam his crimes, how he was responsible for killing Cliff and doing so under Bridget’s orders. We see him crying with remorse and guilt, that he loved Cliff and Bridget both but his efforts to save one while serving the other ended in tragedy. Sam leaving the new president of the UCA with the very gun he brought to end things and saying how “it won’t help him here” is SO FUCKING POWERFUL. YOU CANT DIE JOHN, YOU CANT TAKE THE EASY WAY OUT. YOU WANTED AMERICA BACK YOU GOT IT, BUT NOW YOU HAVE TO CARRY IT FORWARD. THIS IS YOUR BURDEN AND RESPONSIBILITY.

Death Stranding is a Kojima weird game. It’s not perfect of course, but honestly the game follows its own theme and message through to the end, and I caught myself thinking several times while trying to max likes for locations that “wait a sec am I becoming a MULE?” If you’re the kind of person who doesn’t mind all the trekking and silence, and the long-ass Kojima cutscene spiels I recommend trying the game.

[sketchynebula]

Scribbles, Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, You are here,

Scribble tag list: @mikado413 @pleasebringmerlinback @thecrimsoncodex @too-precious-to-process @skadinavien @lexi-love99 @lovisoverrated @kickthecel @rayndropsonrosez @lamp-calm-sanders@iaminmultiplefandoms @ffsas-side-account  @tree4life25 @thats-so-crash @sugarblob0 @pattongirl @fandoms-n-ship @izzynuggets  @pasteliosis @thisrandomperson102 @memepool1 @hayleycreagine @artistgracie @its-me-madzy @bunniicc

Content Warnings: Self-hate, parental death, short moment of slight dissociation, suicide, flashback of suicide, rejection, fainting, abandonment, emotional break down, descriptions of anxiety and breathing, verbal and physical bullying, neglectful adults

Pairing: LAMP

Word count: 4,725

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Angst

AU/trope: Soul-Mate AU  where whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your soulmate’s.

Summary: His mind worked over-time considering whether or not running to the other end of the building would be worth it, but as the fatigue from his sleepless night pressed into him, he decided it wasn’t. Today wasn’t going to be the day he decided to be punctual.Virgil’s English class was all the way across the school from his math class, so it was a long walk. Oh, and he also had it after math and that didn’t help his mood either.

There was a moment where he was sure that he would be late. His eyes peering into an empty classroom and checking the time, only to find that he technically only had three minutes to get there. His mind worked over-time considering whether or not running to the other end of the building would be worth it, but as the fatigue from his sleepless night pressed into him, he decided it wasn’t. Today wasn’t going to be the day he decided to be punctual.

By the time he had walked through the door to the classroom it had been a few minutes after the late bell. The class was all there, all 30 of them visibly acting every bit of ‘straight out of elementary school’ as one would suspect. Fortunately for Virgil’s attendance record, the teacher wasn’t there.

Unfortunately for Virgil’s eardrums, the teacher wasn’t there.

The teacher's desk was vacant, but clean with not a page of paper on it. That was probably just as well, since anything left unattended was almost certain to be looked through.

Virgil’s head was aching again. The windows poured bright light into the room and his head throbbed in pain with each noise that echoed in the class.

He moved to sit in the back, an area that was a little farther away from the windows and a little more closed off from the rest of the students. He sat, before laying his post-concussion head down. His arms wrapping around his head in order to try to muffle some of the sensory information.

He ignored all the kids around him, and they thankfully did the same, but somehow the mess of kids, middle school boys running around and girls talking loudly, made him feel even more closed off.

More isolated from everyone around him.

These kids ran around, laughing, with the privilege of being able to care about nothing more than homework and friendships. They weren’t nursing bruises and hiding concussions. They weren’t carrying drunk parents to their rooms at night and crying when new messages were written on their wrists.

He sniffed, the emotions swirling in him were too complex for his tired mind and he pulled his head off the desk before he could fall asleep. As he lifted it up, a piece of paper came with it, stuck to the side of his cheek.

As the paper floated back to the desk he looked around, seeing that a piece of lined paper was lying on the surface of each desk. A single word was written on the board, ‘Scribbles’, and just as a dawning sense of comprehension and dread filled him the teacher decided to make an appearance.

The teacher quickly bustled in the room, a familiar face that made Virgil stare unabashedly, eyes locking with the last person he wanted to see.

“Everyone sit down! I am sorry I’m late, it’s a long walk here from anywhere else in the school. That, however, does not mean you are allowed to descend to chaos in my absence.” She leveled the class with a glare. “I’m Mrs. Higgs, and I’m your English teacher.” Virgil felt his face flush, sinking into his desk. Of course she was. In his life there was no way that he wouldn’t have to see her everyday for a year.

“Today, we’re going to be working on a free-writing prompt, some children are better at creative writing while others are better at essays.” She turned moving to grab a few papers from her desk and having everybody pass one back, “It’s in my opinion that both aspects of writing and literature are important even if the curriculum only favours one, so I like to give the creative writers in the class space to like language arts and use it as a supplement to improve their writing. Everyday when you come in, there will be a writing prompt on the board, you will write for the first fifteen minutes of class and turn it in after for a daily grade, if you are absent you won’t have to make it up and it won't negatively affect you. this isn’t supposed to be a stressful activity it’s just to expand your mind and get credit for doing it. I am handing out the syllabi and then we are to get started on our prompt,”

As the papers moved from hand to hand, Virgil’s eyes helplessly looked at the prompt. Of all the things he hated the most the list topper had to be sharing his writing. He wasn’t any good, and there was never any reason that anybody in his life had to know anything about the personal inner workings of his mind.

“We’re going to start the fifteen minutes now, try your best to stay writing the entire time- go.”

Virgil’s hand shook as he glanced from the board back to his paper. Idea’s bouncing around his head, none of them he felt comfortable with a teacher reading.

Especially a teacher that hated him.

He gripped the pencil hard before he settled for a compromise. His hand was hesitant as he wrote the first words, mind halting every few letters before his brain started to flow into the mindset. His hand movements slowly evening out, moving to weave emotions in fictional scenes.

He pulled real events out of context and projected them on a fictional world. A world that Virgil wouldn’t have to be responsible for later. Taking what he itched to write for the prompt, what he itched to tell the world, to scream at every teacher that looked at him like he was a criminal, and pressing it against a safe grey area. Somewhere in the middle a place where Virgil can adamantly deny being related to any of the words that graced the page.

Virgil wasn’t done writing by the time the teacher asked them to pass their papers forward, but he almost threw his sheet at the person in front of him. Just wanting this to be over.

The rest of the class was uneventful. The only other notable event being when Mrs. Higgs’s raised an eyebrow at him during roll-call. Virgil would have nodded off after that, but he was tense. His eyes staring forward the entire class.

That didn’t mean he was paying attention at all though. He felt far away from the situation, away from the room and the light and the pain. All until he found himself jumping at the sound of the bell. His body temporarily going rigid before he moved to reach down under his desk. His body buzzed with nerves, antsy to get out of here, to spare himself the embarrassment of having to be around Mrs. Higgs for any longer.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder, students brushing his side as they moved pass him to get to the door, but just as he reached it himself Mrs. Higgs called him back. One of her hands clutching his free-writing assignment in her grip and beckoning him over.

“Don’t worry, You’re not in trouble.” She asserted to him as he glanced at her warily. His cheeks burning.

She motioned him to take a seat in a desk in front of her, “This will only take a moment, however I will write you a pass to get to your next class.” Her lips scrunched, brows furrowing in a stern way.

Virgil fidgeted as the flash of that memory passed through his brain. His mind was flooded with all the other things it brought with it. Saturday was fast approaching, only two days away as the week quickly ends. Everything that that meant was fresh in his mind. He swallowed hard and gripped his hands together in his lap.

“Virgil, you’re writing is- far beyond your grade level.” She said, eyes running over the page again before carefully placing the writing down on the desk and pushing it toward him. “Have you ever thought of taking up writing as a future career choice?”

Virgil can’t say he’d ever really thought about his future, he always assumed he wouldn’t have one to begin with.

He pulled the paper back towards him a full 10/10 points graced the corner of the page in red ink and he shrugged. The thought never crossed his mind.

“There's a writers competition, an annual event that i think i want you to participate in,” she cleared her throat, “though i must admit i have never chosen a participant this early in the year-” Pulling a few papers out of one of the locked drawer of her desk, she circled around to him handing him the papers, a list of careers and different applications of writing was there, along with a ‘Young-Authors Competition’ registration form, the top page of the stack had a bolded title of ‘what you can do with writing’.

Mrs. Higgs nodded to the pages, “I recommend doing some research on some possible careers in the meantime, only if you’re interested of course. perhaps a journalist, or even maybe an author?”

Virgil's face was awestruck, hesitantly he shrugged. His brain backtracking turning the words over in his head. Trying to find any alternative meaning in them than the one he was being presented with. Anything that would make more sense.

His writing wasn’t good by any stretch of the word. It was jumbled and unthought out, each word was meaningless, a product of his mind spewing out emotions that he trapped inside himself over the years. His pulse increased at the very idea of a competition.

A writing competition with people who spent their lives learning how to be good writers. Students who wanted to write since they were young and not someone like him. Him who only wrote because he never seemed to be able to speak.

His shaking was visible now and Mrs. Higgs reached out, hand resting over top his clenched fists, trying to get them to still. The warmth and weight of it made him look up at her concerned expression.

“The competition isn’t until December, you have time to think about it dear.” She said softly, “I, of course, won’t and can’t force you to submit something against your will, and I for one think you are all a little young to be able to fully decide what you want to be in life.” She said gesturing to the pages she had given him, “but it’s better to be well informed and say no than be poorly informed and say yes.”

She patted his hands, before pulling away and moving around the desk, hunching over it to quickly scrawl out the information on a hall pass, ripping it out in one fast motion and handing it to Virgil.

“However, i would at least think about it.” She finished eyes imploring as she turned away from him.

Virgil swallowed hard, standing slowly before his body went into overdrive. He pulled his backpack off the floor, collecting his items and almost running out of the room. The concerned eyes of Mrs. Higgs following him as he went.

Virgil moved out of the way of oncoming hallway goers, ducking through the hall as he made his way to flow onto the correct side.

His fingers nervously tear the edges of the hall pass he was given. He was at lunch, but he appreciate the sentiment more than anything else. Most teachers didn’t care enough to write him one anymore.

Which Virgil wasn’t blaming them for. When someone is as consistently late as he is there came a time where there wasn’t a point.

Virgil’s hand pressed into his pocket, shoving the pass deep inside with it, and he held the small stack of papers in his left hand, eyes glancing over the words and dates.

The bodies moving in the hallway brushed up against him in an uncomfortable ‘sardine can’ way. Shoulders hitting against his until one particularly hard shove had his side slamming into the row of lockers beside him. The disorientation was instant, and the snickering that followed confirmed Virgil’s immediate hunch. He angled his head to see Ricky and Fred’s backs as they passed down the hallway. Laughing to themselves.

Virgil’s hands balled themselves into fists, crumpling the papers, as he kept walking. Hunching into his frustration, and the brand new ache in his shoulder, he walked until he was able to carefully and discreetly duck into the school library. A small area that attempted to tightly fit book shelves and open desks together.

Virgil spared a glance at the librarian at the front desk, he managed to give them a small smile despite his mood, you always wanted to be on a librarians good side. His hands pressed the papers to his chest so nobody else in the room would catch a glimpse of their content, before he moved to round behind a row of bookshelves that were further back.

He hadn’t eaten in the cafeteria since his first week of first grade, the memory of having chocolate milk poured down his back was humiliating enough that he was willing to take steps to not have it repeated.

Virgil pressed his back into the bookshelf there, the knobs of his spine aching uncomfortably. He slid to sit down, hidden in the small nook that he had found. He dragged his backpack into his lap, his legs stretching out in front of him.

Unzipping the top of his pack with one swift motion, he pulled out his sad, sad, sack lunch. A bag that he’s pretty sure he just threw some bread and an apple in that morning.

Virgil frowned at the memory of that morning. His mother having sat silently in the kitchen, nursing a hangover, probably not even knowing that she shared a memory with him from the night before. A memory that his brain couldn’t help echoing back at him when things were quiet. The words ‘I’m glad you don’t have a soulmate’ making him feel guilty and paranoid all at once.

He hunched into his corner, not bothering to touch the bread as he bit into the apple. His unoccupied hand pushed the papers roughly into the backpack before zipping it back up and tossing the pack to the wayside.

“Hey, Verg?” James’s voice whispered out, starling Virgil, who inhaled a bit of apple as James rounded around a shelf. “Guess what!”

Virgil panicked for a moment, coughing before shrugging, his mouth full. James laughed, nodding his head “i feel that! anyway- you know how Mrs. Kace used to be the AP French teacher at the High-school?” Virgil paused, startled at the sudden topic of conversation. He slowly managed a shrug.

He typically didn’t make a habit of talking to teachers, at least not as a pastime, and especially those he didn’t have to directly deal with.

“Well, okay - i guess long story short- I have a chance to win a Trip to France under an exchange student program!”

Virgil’s chest was suddenly tight, his eyes wide in shock before he swallowed hard and tried his best to smile. His face split into more of a grimace.

“Yeah! I might get to be with Sarah!” James gripped his hands together, eyes dancing over the written exchanges they shared on his arms all in french.

Virgil, felt the bit of apple be was able to swallow sour in his stomach, he nodded jerkily to James.

“That’s cool.” He said, his voice weaker than normal.

“Right! Sarah says her parents are more than willing to house both of us and my mom says that if we present out soulmate status they will most likely give me citizenship,” James’s voice was hard pressed to continue to be a whisper, his voice slowly rising in volume as he continued his small, hopeful rant. “-I mean it’s France they’re like the epicenter for soulmate finding resources, you know, as long as i can prove i can speak French well and yadda yadda whatever, I’ll be able to meet her! Isn’t it great!”

It was. He was happy. It was so good for James. He had worked his entire life for something like this. Deciding to be a French translator in second grade when they had first started to write to one another and found out about the language barrier they had to overcome.

He was going to be with his soulmate. In a school that wouldn’t immediately mentally connect him with the outcast and ostracized him in turn. A school where Virgil wasn’t ruining his only chances at being a normal kid.

Why can’t Virgil just be happy for him, why can’t he just be supportive.

Why can’t he just let his soulmates be happy without him.

“That’s amazing, I’m so glad you two- I’m glad you guys get to see each other and stuff.” Virgil said, eyes void, stony and guarded and James’s smile slowly faded, eyes filling with recognition,

“Oh i am such a dick.” He said, a grimace pulling at the sides of his mouth, “dude, i’m sorry, i totally forgot, here i am telling you all about Sarah when everyone knows-,” He paused voice lowering, even quieter than a normal whisper now, and leaning in, as if what he was saying wasn’t common knowledge to every kid in this school district “- everyone knows you don’t have a soulmate” James tried to look Virgil in the eye but Virgil just shook his head.

“No, it’s fine.” Virgil shrugged and James just shook his head back,

“No it’s not, I just- i can’t even imagine-...” Virgil looked at James eyes imploring him to change the subject.

“Anyway?” Virgil said, voice more neutral than his previous tone.

James hesitated before he continued “Anyway… I- I’m just saying that if my french essay gets chosen for this thing in November i’ll be gone by next semester so…”

Virgil nodded his head. That was it. He suddenly felt like he didn’t have anything left to lose anymore.

Scribbles

Virgil's fingers raked through his hair, grimacing. It seemed to be greasy no matter how often he washed it.

He met the mirror with a blank stare. His eyes had started to form light bags under them from inconsistent and sometimes nonexistent sleep. His reflection looked as tired and pale as he remembered it.

The surge of fear that he felt while his shaky hands pushed his hoodie back over the mirror was enough to make him question why he was here. Standing around and holding up the only bathroom in a comic shop near the Cedar cafe.

Who was he kidding?‘Strip’s Spot’ was a geek safe haven that was literally right across the street from the hipster paradise that was the Cedar Cafe. It’s large glass doors and windows making the comic shop a safe viewing spot.

It was stalking, basically. Virgil recognized this to the point that it was almost tormenting him. He was stalking them now.

Or maybe he was always stalking them. His arms and hands containing personal information about them that they wouldn’t normally have shared with anyone they didn’t trust. The question ‘would they trust him’ bouncing around his head was promptly answered by every dark part of his mind, the resounding ‘of course not’ breaking him down a little more.

“But we’re soulmates” he whispered to himself eyes settling over the fabric of his hoodie. “We’re- we are, soulmates.” He stated to himself shakily.

They have to love him.

Their soulmates.

“emphasis on the ‘have to’ part” he mumbled to himself, echoing his thoughts out loud. His mind wavering. He pulled his hoodie away from its place precariously balancing on the mirror, pulling it around his shoulders. He thumbed the sleeves, eyes catching another unwanted glimpse of himself from the mirror before he turned to unlock the bathroom door.

As his hand wrapped around the metal and he spared a moment to try and pull on an at least semi-good neutral face. The kind of face one wore for a public area.

His eyes blinked from being in the darkly lit bathroom to suddenly being in a well lit shop. He took in the dark patterned carpet and the vivid posters once more. His eyes nervously glancing around at the few shop goers as he moved to stand near one of the windows. He pulled one of the comics off the shelf, hands thumbing through it as he pretended to brows, eyes glancing up at the people around him. He was trying so hard to be casual, though that could wrap around and make him seem weird, ‘too casual’ is a thing that exists.

Was he being too casual?!

His pulled himself away from panically staring at a random page of a comic book only to have his eyes connect with the window.

He felt paralyzed.

He didn’t know how he knew it, though it was probably because they were the only party there that was larger than two, but when his eyes landed on the three of them he knew.

It felt like he had known them forever.

They were all standing in the outside seating area just outside of the cafe, hugging, all three of them so elated.

A redshirted boy that Virgil can only assume was Roman was almost jumping up and down. The boy who was obviously Patton, wearing a rather warm looking puppy and kitten themed sweater, was attempting to hug each of them together. The last of them had to be Logan who was smiling a warm smile, and hugging back when it suited him. They all seemed happy and Virgil felt a sting of envy again. Their warm arms and faces were exchanging looks and touches.

Virgil was standing in a Comic shop.

They fit so well together, their arms and hands wrapping around one another like it was the most natural thing in the world.

They fit.

They just- they fit together effortlessly.

His entire life Virgil had never fit anywhere, Virgil had been time and time again shown that he didn’t belong with anyone.

Apparently not even his soulmates.

He watched their hands curl into one another and their faces breaking out in bright smiles. He watched them confirm every fear he ever had, knowing that he could never do any of those things. He could never jeopardize them that way. His hands were cold, and his very presence brought gloom.

He had no place with the three of them. Their colour and their light was gift he was supposed to admire not contribute to.

Not that he had anything to contribute to it anyway.

Virgil tried to shake a barrage of thoughts from his head, eyes watering. The loud sound of a honking car horn startled him, blurry eyes raising to barely make out the faces of just as elated adults waving to the group from a car. Virgil’s cheeks flushed, hands almost dropping the comic book he was now tightly clutching, another car stayed down a ways, the parents smiling.

Normal families.

Normal happy families that Virgil can contact and ruin, ruin the same way he ruined his.

A flash of his fathers cold hanging body made his brain silence, his chest suddenly tighten, his mind tilting until there was nothing.

He woke up all at once, and the moment he was standing to the moment he was waking up on the floor felt like a mere instant appart. A concerned store manager hovering over him, a hand at the back of his head checking for an injury.

He pulled away from the strangers hands, the man's voice was muffled, sounding too far away from the still reeling Virgil.

“-Would you like me to call your parents” The words came into focus like a lense, slowly and with a gradient in time between indecipherable and clear. Virgil shook his head.

Who was there to call?

As Virgil sat up on the floor, he tilted back a little to peer out the glass doors, seeing both the cars and his soulmates gone.

‘Probably soul-bonding’ he thought to himself. Swallowing hard. An aching feeling filling his chest made him turn his head, and stare at the carpet there, mind dully wondering if there was ever going to be a time when things started to hurt less.

Scribbles

The night was all consuming and the edge of the table pressed into him. The blankness of his arms made the sorrow crop up inside of him again. His hoodie discarded to the floor.

It didn’t feel like there was a need for it anymore.

“You don’t normally take the hoodie off.”

Virgil’s head snapped to the side, looking into the eyes of his mother, who he hadn’t talked too since three days ago. He swallowed hard at the tired disheveled look she had. Her eyes bruised with circles and hair tousled.

“Yeah.” He said, turning his eyes back to the wood of the table as he waited for her to go for the liquor cabinet.

His mother took a seat.

She put her purse on the kitchen table, heaving out a sigh as she pulled her name tag off and ran a hand through her hair. “I- I know I’m.. I’m a- failure of a parent.” She stated and Virgil’s heart ached.

“No. You’re not. You do everything you can-,” Virgil began but his mother spoke over him

“I don’t- I don’t do enough.” She said, turning the name tag over in her hand as she spoke.

There was silence then. All consuming silence as they both sat in their own turmoils.

Emotional grievance pulling them both into the darkest places of their minds.

“How did you-” Virgil started suddenly, his voice cracking. “How did you deal with dad- with you know…”

His mother looked away from him. Her eyes vacant again, her expression mirroring the look she gave him in the bathroom that night. Virgil’s heart braced itself. The wounds so fresh that he didn’t think he could take another disappointment.

“I didn’t.”

She stood, tears running down her face. Giving Virgil the most apologetic look he’d ever seen on another human beings face. She pulled herself away from the kitchen table, the apartment echoing around them both as she pulled open the liquor cabinet.

Virgil stood, eyes spilling and a hand covering his mouth. He stepped over the hoodie. Leaving it there.

He burst through the door to his room with the edges of hysteria gripping at him. His hands going to clutch at his hair, yanking until it hurt. The pain making his eyes water.

He thought about his mother, about the years of isolation and pain. He thought about his dad leaving the both of them for his mental illness, and he thought about inevitability.

The pressing feelings that he would end up just like the both of them. His mother who would never see her soulmate again, and drank to forget that. His mind working against his own happiness no matter how every talks about soulmates being the ‘cure for all ills’.

He would be just as broken up, just as lost and desperate. Another ghosting figure in a world that doesn’t care about anyone with anything other than a happy ending. He was a damned soul.

A soulless.

He was truly a soulless now.

His breath came out in harsh puffs and he collapsed, sitting on his bed, keeling over and folding in on himself until his chest rested on his knees.

His eyes rose for just a second, just long enough for the time it took for his eyes to connect with the haphazard pile of the pages on his desk. The writing information Mrs. Higgs had given him. All of them collected in a single spot, discarded and crumpled.

There was stillness. The tears running down his face continued and he stood. His body slowly moving. He gripped the first page, moving it aside to pick up the Young-Authors Competition Rules. His hand shakily gripped a pen. His knuckles turning white with the force, and he pulled a loose leaf sheet onto the surface.

Then. He wrote.

Chapter 4

[littlerose13writes]

Sweeter Than Fiction Chapter 8: A Strong Cup of Tea

Scorpius Malfoy and Albus Potter have decided fifth year is going to be their year; the year everything works out for them, and if that means Scorpius keeping his huge crush on his best friend a secret, then that’s just what he’s going to have to do.

It’s just a crush. He can get over it well before fifth year is over, can’t he?

Chapter 8/27

Warnings: contains description of a panic attack

Updates every Monday and Friday

Read on AO3 or FF

The following morning was hellish when Scorpius was woken up by his dorm mates leaving the room and feeling completely unsatisfied with the amount of sleep he’d had, and still a bit shaken up from his nightmare, not least because his brain was choosing to focus on the beginning part where Albus admitted to having feelings for him.

Their morning lessons were a blur of exhaustion and Scorpius didn’t feel he’d fully woken up until halfway through Care of Magical Creatures, which thankfully was over quickly.

Scorpius and Albus walked side by side back to the castle, Albus’ school bag swinging between them while he laughed about their Care of Magical Creatures lesson where a niffler had made its way into Pucey’s wallet and stolen all his gold. Scorpius stifled a huge yawn.

“Am I boring you, Scor?” Albus teased.

Scorpius shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night.” He hadn’t planned to tell Albus about his nightmare, he didn’t need to know.

Albus looked at him very seriously and Scorpius knew he had figured it out. He tried to arrange his face into a casual expression but another yawn took over and slightly spoiled the effect.

“Did you have another nightmare?” he asked in a low voice, even though there was a good distance between them and the rest of the class who were hurrying through the high winds inside for break.

“Sort of,” Scorpius admitted. “It wasn’t too bad. It’s just impossible to fall asleep afterwards.”

Albus looked a bit put out. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“Why? So we could both be sleep deprived today?”

“No! So I could… I don’t know, help you somehow?” He looked apologetic with this lame response. “I’ve been using that portable, two-way silencing charm from Uncle Ron since Higgs started snoring so badly. I didn’t hear you wake up. Do you want to talk about it?”

Scorpius could hardly explain why his nightmare had been so horrible without revealing his feelings for Albus, and he wasn’t about to do that in the break before double Potions on a windy Tuesday morning.

“It was just the usual, you know. Delphi was there, she was trying to torture me, Voldemort was in power, I was the Scorpion King, you never existed.” He tried to say this casually, almost with amusement, to trick himself into thinking it was all a funny story that couldn’t hurt him in his sleep.

The truth was that, even with all of that horrificness, the one thing that tore Scorpius from sleep for the rest of the night was the crushingly real feeling that Albus was gone, the idea of losing him. It made him feel sick.

“Scorpius?” Albus had stopped which made Scorpius realise he had stopped too. He was standing stock still, rooted to the spot and feeling like all his blood had just been drained from him in one quick motion.

He couldn’t breathe, his lungs were working furiously but nothing was happening. Oxygen refused to enter them, he was going to pass out and die because he couldn’t breathe. His vision was blurring, darkness creeping in from all sides as he felt his legs crumple beneath him. He was falling, falling, further and further down and he wasn’t breathing anymore. He was going to die.

“Scorpius look at me, right at me, that’s it, just look at me.” Scorpius vaguely heard a calm voice as he breathed in and in over and over, trying to get his breath to catch right at the back of his throat where he needed it. It wasn’t quite reaching, but it was going into his lungs, his vision was clearing.

Albus’ familiar, kind face swam into view. Albus, I’m going to die. He tried to speak, tell Albus, ask him for help. But nothing happened. All he could do was continually breathe in, he was hyperventilating.

“Press your palms together. The Battle of Hogwarts took place between the first and second of May, 1998 and culminated in the demise of Tom Riddle. Take your hands apart. Many consider this battle as the start of the new wizarding world, due to the major reformations to the key structures of our world since.”

He’d joined his hands together as if praying then taken them apart as instructed. Why? He knew these words, these words were familiar and they came from his History of Magic textbook. He could breathe when he heard Albus’ voice read these words, he knew these words and these words wouldn’t hurt him. Albus wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t let him die. His heart was staying put inside him, its thumping had decreased. His breath had finally caught, he wasn’t going to die. He wasn’t going to die.

“Hands together. Harry Potter was a key figure throughout this process. Hands apart.”

“M’okay.” Somebody with Scorpius’ voice spoke and it took him a few seconds to realise it was him. He was breathing heavily, as if he’d forgotten how.

“Breathe in through your nose.” Scorpius obeyed. “Out through your mouth. And again.”

Albus talked him through this breathing process a few more times before he became fully aware of his surroundings again. He was in the grounds, not far from Hagrid’s hut but nobody was around apart from Albus, who was focused intently on Scorpius. He was sat on the ground, leaning weakly against Albus’ school bag and Albus was sat in front of him, looking concerned.

“Tell me what you need now.”

Scorpius was starting to realise what had just happened. He’d been fine for months, no nightmares, no panic attacks, and he’d just been walking to class with Albus. Everything had been completely normal, he’d been trying not to think about his nightmare, and it had hit him like a strong reducto. Now he was here outside with Albus and he just wanted to bury his face away from view.

“I need you.”

Albus said nothing and just got up onto his knees and opened his arms out tentatively. Scorpius didn’t think and simply fell into them. Albus cradled his head against his chest and they stayed like that for a few minutes before Scorpius could speak.

“What’s wrong with me, Al?”

Albus pulled away from him and held him at arms’ length, his hands atop Scorpius’ shoulders. “Nothing is wrong with you. You went through something most people can’t even imagine. It’s normal to have a reaction, you can’t just snap back as if it never happened.”

“Why can’t I just get better?” Scorpius heard the childish desperation in his question.

“My cousin Victoire is studying stuff like this at St Mungo’s. You know, mental health rather than physical. She says it’s often harder to heal a brain than a body. It’s going to be her specialism when she becomes a Healer.”

“She’ll be good at that.” He was remembering Victoire from James’ birthday and imagined her presence would be quite calming.

“She will. Wizards don’t put enough value on some muggle therapies, like just talking about how they feel, and instead want to use spells and potions to fix everything. But that doesn’t always work.”

“Can’t really use episkey on my mind can we?” He tried to smile light-heartedly but he felt like he’d been in a fight with a troll and the troll had got a good few whacks of his club in.

“We can write to her if you want. Vic, I mean. She might be able to help you. Only if you want to though,” Albus said tentatively.

“Maybe.” Scorpius wasn’t sure how he felt about this prospect when a thought occurred to him. “Were you reading A History of Magic to me earlier?”

Albus flushed. “I memorised a few pages, just in case this happened. I thought you’d like it.”

Scorpius managed a small smile. “I can’t believe I’ve got you memorising textbooks.”

Albus beamed when he heard Scorpius speaking in a more light hearted tone. “C’mon, I’m taking you to Madam Pomfrey.”

“No,” Scorpius protested, trying to stand up. Albus was still holding onto him.

“What do you mean no? You have to, she’ll remember what to do.” Albus was pulling him to his feet. “Come on, before the corridors fill up for classes.”

“No,” Scorpius repeated. “I don’t want to go to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will write to my dad, and he was so pleased when I told him I wasn’t having panic attacks anymore. I don’t want him to know.”

Albus looked at him with sad eyes. “Scor, you have to tell him.”

Scorpius pictured his father, still encumbered with grief and the way he had failed to hide how distraught he had been when Scorpius had panicked over the summer. He’d tried, of course he had tried, but Scorpius knew it was too painful for his dad to see him suffer. Here at Hogwarts, he had the ability to keep this from him, and maybe that way his dad could start to heal himself.

He thought of Albus’ own father, when he’d been staying at the Potters’ in the summer. How warm and easy the relationship between Harry and Albus had become, the way Harry made it so clear he was there to listen to anything Albus had to say, even when Albus was in one of his moods. It made Scorpius’ heart ache with envy. He knew his dad loved him, but he also knew his dad was nowhere near ready to talk about what happened. He didn’t want to cause him even more pain.

“Not yet, please.” It was all he could answer. “Don’t make me go to the hospital wing, she’ll only want to give me a calming draught and you know I hate the side effects of that stuff. It’s not as if she can stop me having another one ever.”

Albus looked at him sympathetically then gazed around them, his eyes landing on Hagrid’s hut. “Can we at least go to Hagrid’s? You look like you could do with a strong cup of tea, no side effects to that.”

“We’ll be late for class. It’s double Potions, Al, your favourite.”

“I don’t care,” he shrugged, beckoning for Scorpius to follow him. “You’re more important.”

You’re more important.

Scorpius wondered if Albus had any idea the effect his throwaway comments could have.

They knocked on the door and Hagrid emerged, a large and unwieldy knife in his hand. Scorpius eyed it warily, not that Hagrid was at all threatening, but he didn’t always have the best aim.

“Hi Hagrid,” Albus said as soon as the door opened. “Can we come in please? I’m, er, not feeling well.”

Hagrid looked concerned and stepped back to let them inside. The table was mostly taken up with what looked like rotten vegetables, which Hagrid was preparing with the knife for an unknown creature.

Scorpius was grateful that Albus had lied for him and he stayed silent as Hagrid quizzed his best friend about why he felt unwell and tried to force him to the hospital wing and said he was going to write to Al’s parents. Albus let him fuss, but he slid the cup of strong tea Hagrid made for him in Scorpius’ direction, swapping it for his own. Hagrid didn’t notice.

“Bin meaning ter have a word with yer about yer sister,” he said, appraising Albus over the rim of his mug. “She ‘asn’t bin turning up ter feed her Hippogriff like the other third years.”

Scorpius found this information surprising; he knew Lily Potter was very fond of animals. Albus however, didn’t look very surprised and instead rolled his eyes.

“What were you asking her to feed it?” he asked knowingly.

“Usual stuff, Hippogriffs eat insects and small mammals. I’ve had ‘em on ferrets and worms.” Hagrid looked confused by Albus’ question.

He nodded in understanding. “She has a thing at the moment about eating animals. She won’t do it anymore, apparently that extends to feeding Hippogriffs too.”

“But they’re wild creatures? That’s wha’ they eat.” Hagrid was perplexed.

“Try telling that to Lily,” Albus muttered and took a sip of tea.

Hagrid watched him for a second. “I found ‘er in the forbidden forest yesterday.”

Albus nearly spat his tea out. “Lily was in the forbidden forest? Oh, don’t tell Dad. He might have a heart attack.”

“Nearly gave me an ‘eart attack and all! Tiny thing like ‘er, wandering around with all those creatures. She told me she got lost.”

Albus scoffed and rolled his eyes. “If Lily was in the forbidden forest, she wanted to be there. Trust me.”

“I didn’t think ‘er story added up, going on about a homework assignment ter draw a map o’ the grounds or something?”

Scorpius laughed, and instantly felt his mood lift and his heart lighten. He still felt as if he’d been pummelled with a beater’s bat, but that was normal after a panic attack. For now, he was safe with his best friend, laughing together about his little sister and her eccentric ways.

“The thing about Lily is detentions don’t seem to worry her,” Albus chatted away. “She thinks of them more as social occasions, or a chance to practise her singing if she’s left alone.”

“The Potters like their singing, Hagrid,” Scorpius said, throwing Albus a mischievous look, letting his best friend know he was feeling better and he was very grateful for him.

Albus grinned back, picking up on Scorpius’ change in mood. “We’re thinking of starting a band,” he laughed. “Shower Serenades.”

Hagrid watched Albus. “Yer seem quite bright. Are yer feeling well enough to go to class? I’ll write yer teacher a note, who do yer have next?”

“Slughorn, double Potions,” Albus muttered, glancing at Scorpius who nodded. “And yes, I feel well enough.”

“Right then, best be on yer way then,” he said, scribbling a note. He looked up at Scorpius when he’d finished writing. “Yer a very good friend, Scorpius, making sure ‘e’s alright.” His eyes were twinkling as if he knew what was going on.

“Are you sure you feel better?” Albus said worriedly as they climbed the castle steps. “You don’t need to lie down?”

Scorpius imagined going back to the dorm and laying in the dark by himself, then he imagined attending Potions and being in the same room as Albus. He knew which was more appealing.

“I’d prefer to keep busy,” Scorpius said honestly and Albus nodded.

They shuffled into the dungeon classroom and every head turned to stare at them. Scorpius looked at his feet and Albus awkwardly handed Slughorn the note from Hagrid. He read it and nodded sympathetically. “Take a seat, boys.”

Potions was Scorpius’ favourite subject (other than History of Magic which would always be his ultimate favourite) because he loved seeing Albus excel. Ever since fourth year, when he had really come into his own, Albus shone in Potions class, working in an adorably unsystematic order but somehow still managing to produce the best brew in the class. Slughorn doted on him and said he was a natural, which made Albus squirm in discomfort but didn’t stop him continuing to be top of the class. It was another lesson they shared with the Gryffindors.

“You’ve joined us just in time to hear which brew you will be making today.” Slughorn smiled at him and Albus. “This potion is tricky, one of the trickiest you will learn this year, and my intention is for you to brew it today, and then again at the end of the school year when you will have all, no doubt, improved.”

There was an excited buzz as they waited to find out which potion they would be brewing.

“You will be attempting to brew the cure for Dragon Pox. As some of you may know, this potion originates from the 14th century but was revised more recently. Unfortunately, nobody has found a revision of the cure which completely eradicates the greenish tinge to the sufferer.”

“Like poor Jeremy Boot,” whispered Imogen Carlisle.

Jeremy Boot was a Ravenclaw in the year above who had suffered a bad case of Dragon Pox as a child. He’d survived but his skin was a faint shade of green at all times and nobody ever liked to mention it.

“You will be using the revised recipe, which you will find on page seventy-nine of your books. As this potion is particularly tricky,” he flicked his wand at the blackboard and everyone’s names wrote themselves in a long list, “you will be working in pairs.” Another flick of his wand rearranged the names so they were lined up in pairs.

There was a moment of silence while everyone browsed the list for their partner’s name and movement started as people partnered up and started to collect ingredients. Scorpius ran his eyes down the list and found his name.

Scorpius Malfoy - Cole Flint

Just below, he read:

Albus Potter - Thea Jordan

Scorpius shared a look with Albus and he shrugged and gathered his potions kit up to go and sit with Thea. His place was taken instantly by Cole, who looked pleased.

“If I have to work with an Arrows supporter…” He grinned and placed his own potions kit on the desk. Scorpius smiled back and started to set a cauldron up between them. “Are you any good at potions, Blondie?”

Scorpius looked up from the bracket he was setting the cauldron up on. “I’m alright, I can follow the instructions well enough that nothing usually  goes horribly wrong.”

Cole looked relieved. “I’ve been called a hazard near a cauldron on more than one occasion. Mind if I stick more to prepping the ingredients?”

“Not at all.” They shared a friendly smile and Scorpius flipped the textbook to the correct page, glancing over the rather complicated instructions.

“We have to soak the dragon scales in essence of murtlap for thirty minutes before we can add them, so we should do that first.” Cole read over his shoulder and rummaged in his Potions kit for what he needed.

“Isn’t it weird that you need dragon scales to cure Dragon Pox?” Scorpius mused as he lit a fire under the cauldron with his wand and set it off gently warming.

“Hmm? A bit. Dragons can’t catch Dragon Pox.” Cole held up one of the greenish-blue dragon scales and it caught the light attractively. “Look at these things. My aunt has a dragon-hide handbag like this. This is the ingredient that turns people green; shame it’s useless without them.”

“You know a lot about this potion,” Scorpius observed as Cole tipped the shiny scales into the murtlap.

“My grandma had it this summer, a really bad case too. Even if she’d been younger she probably wouldn’t have survived.” Cole was rummaging in his potions kit again and not looking at Scorpius as he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Were you close?”

Cole looked up with the next ingredient in his hand and sighed. “We were as it happens. She was almost like a mum to me, seeing as mine wasn’t that interested in being a mum.”

Scorpius had never spoken to his dorm mate about anything other than trivial, day-to-day topics like if he could borrow some toothpaste or who a cloak belonged to. It was like they were meeting for the first time as completely new people.

Cole seemed to notice Scorpius wasn’t sure how to respond to that and he grinned. “Don’t feel sorry for me or anything, I had Dad and Oliver growing up and they were more than enough. And then I had my grandma, until this summer.”

“I know how that feels. I… I lost my mum, more than two years ago now.” The cauldron fire roared between them but neither of them were touching the ingredients.

“I know. I’m really sorry for your loss, Scorpius. I wanted to say something at the time, but we didn’t really speak and I didn’t want to intrude.” He paused for a second. “Does it… does it get better? Missing them?”

Scorpius could hear the desperate plea in his voice. “Better isn’t the word. You’ll always miss her, but it becomes easier to accept after time. The missing doesn’t go away, but it’s fonder and less painful.”

He realised he was smiling away to himself and Cole gave him a grateful look. “Thanks, Scorpius. That's… thanks. You’re a mate.”

“And how are things going over here, boys? Good to see you’ve got your dragon scales soaking, many have overlooked that instruction. Hop to it, get slicing your daisy roots, chop chop.” Slughorn leaned over their cauldron and peered inside as he spoke, not that there was much in there to see.

“Chopping, sir,” Cole said briskly, doing exactly that.

“Now, when you add the sea water, Scorpius, you’ll want to pour from the left side of the cauldron, like Albus over there is doing.” He pointed across the classroom at where Albus and Thea were working.

Albus was clearly in what Scorpius called ‘Potions Mode’ and what Albus called ‘shh, Scor, I’m trying to concentrate’. He’d loosened his tie and pulled it to one side and he’d rolled both of his jumper sleeves up to his elbows. His hair was its usual mess but he’d swept it back from his face, where the steam from his cauldron made it stay in place. It made him look completely different, having his hair pushed back like that, older and more mature but at the same time incredibly attractive to Scorpius. He was smiling broadly and passing ingredients back and forth with Thea, who looked highly impressed.

“Scorpius, mate,” Cole interrupted his staring and Scorpius turned to him with a guilty start. “I know you said it was nothing at the party, but you can tell me. I don’t mind if you fancy her.”

Oh. Cole thought he’d been staring at Thea.

“No, no, I don’t, honestly. Just… thinking about the potion.” Cole shrugged and smiled again as Slughorn bobbed back into view.

“Come on, boys. You’re hardly any further on than the last time I was here.”

He stood watching over them as Scorpius hastily tipped the sliced daisy roots into the cauldron and it turned a bright white. Cole kept glancing suspiciously at him, as if he didn’t believe a word, but Scorpius could hardly say anything to defend himself in front of Slughorn. It was true though, he didn’t fancy Thea and he hadn’t been staring at her.

“Counter-clockwise, that’s it.” Slughorn waited expectantly for Scorpius to stir the potion, but he couldn’t help his eyes flicking frequently to what Cole was doing. Clearly, he was enough of a hazard near a cauldron for Slughorn to monitor them constantly. “Now, Scorpius, can I expect your attendance at my November soirée?”

Scorpius lost count of his stirs and hurriedly tried to work out if he’d done enough. “Yes, sir, I’ll be there. Thankyou for the invitation.”

“That’s quite alright. It was quite the adventure you got up to last year, everyone’s still talking about it of course. The stories! Of course, I don’t like to listen to gossip, but…” he tailed off with a wicked glint in his eye.

“Not yet! It’s too hot to test.” Scorpius hurriedly grabbed the spoon from Cole’s grasp before he could taste a drop like the instruction recommended at this stage.

“Just like your mother, she was always careful with her potioneering. I always said she’d make a wonderful Healer if circumstances had been… well, you’re very alike in a lot of ways.”

“That’s what I want to do, sir,” Scorpius said eagerly, hoping Slughorn would tell him more about his mum in class. “I want to be a Healer when I leave school.”

“A Healer, hey? Well now, let me think.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Ah, Hetty Fairchild. Taught her everything she knows about healing potions I did, and now she’s in charge of a team of forty at St Mungo’s. What do you say I drop her an owl, see if she can’t join us for our next get together? I’m sure she’d love to talk to you about Healer school.”

“Thanks, sir.”

This seemed like an interesting prospect. He’d really enjoyed talking to Albus’ cousin, Victoire, about her experience as a student at St Mungo’s School of Healing Excellence. It would be fascinating to also talk to someone who’d been in the field for a long time.

Their potion was complete with the final ingredient of the soaked dragon scales, which turned it a lurid green, not far from the shade described in the recipe.

“Blimey, I feel like I’m turning green just looking at this thing.” Cole pretended to shield his eyes from the potion’s bright glare while Slughorn came round to inspect.

To nobody’s surprise, Albus and Thea’s potion was the best by far, but Slughorn did take vials of several pairs’ work, including Scorpius and Cole’s attempt.

“It’s a shame you can’t cosy up together with Jordan during the game on Saturday, Potter. Then maybe you’d stand half a chance of catching the quaffle,” Polly hissed snidely, loud enough for most people to hear.

Thea simply rolled her eyes and muttered but Albus, only slightly red, turned around to glare at her. Albus, who had always coped by ignoring and looking the other way, and never bit back.

“It’s a shame you didn’t make the team this year, Polly. Or last year. And remind me, did you make it the year before that either? Have you ever made the team?”

There was a shocked silence at Albus’ words. Not because of what he’d said, but the rest of their classmates, like Scorpius, were expecting Albus to ignore her like he usually did.

“Yeah, well…” Polly visibly cast around for something to hit back with as Albus glared at her and turned to clear his Potions kit away. “At least I don’t have stupid hair.”

Even Karl Jenkins was looking at her with secondhand embarrassment.

read from the beginning

<<< read chapter 7

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chapter index

[journeysintowebcomics]

Girl Genius Liveblog #140

UPDATE 140: Zola Swoops Back In

Wow, it has been a while since I read Girl Genius. So! Last time Von Pinn—I mean Otilia, sorry--Otilia had been successfully transferred to the modified devil dog’s mechanical body. She’s going to be just fine! And now everyone must get out of the laboratory before it crumbles further and crushes everyone. So let’s see if they do it successfully!

Otilia does honor to her title of Muse of Protection by protecting Moloch from being in danger of dying. Poor guy can’t catch a break, he’s in danger all the time, isn’t he? All was kind of okay before Agatha arrived, her status as protagonist of this story means she also brings misfortune. But hey, he’s survived so far, he’ll be fine. Otilia is fine too, falling down all the way down to the laboratory and thankfully not making everything crumble down. What matters is that she has found out it’s possible and fine to take everybody up, so all in all, there’ll be no problems here.

There are other matters to pay attention to, though.

It must have gotten broken when Zola made the hole explode. A rock fell there, and now the Castle will lack power, and fixing it will be difficult, even with sparks here. Moloch doesn’t think it’ll be so difficult, they have the cavalcade of tiny clanks that belong to Agatha, with their help, they’ll fix the water wheel. I like that Moloch isn’t too worried. At first I thought it was because, you know, he’s a mechanic and therefore he knows what he’s talking about, but this is good too.

Back in the library, all preparations are finished. It didn’t take long for Tarvek and Agatha to set everything up! The head is set, the Castle’s consciousness should be able to go smoothly into the rest of the Castle, all that remains is to throw the switch and let the MAD SCIENCE happen.

My home, my rules, Agatha says. Get your own mad castle and malfunctioning clank head if you want to do this your way, Tarvek, but as long as you’re in this place, you’ll do what Agatha wants! And she wants to throw the switch. I’m pretty sure that’s what the Castle would have wanted, anyway.

You know, correct me if I’m wrong, but the Castle hasn’t been completely fixed, has it? I mean there’s still the problem of the fragmented consciousness. I guess if the damage wasn’t physical – like circuits being blocked, pieces malfunctioning or anything like that – then Agatha destroyed all the Castle’s fragmented consciousness back then, so now there’s only one single consciousness filling the entirety of the building. If not, and there’s physical damage that still requires to be fixed, then the Castle may be confined to only one area of the building right now – the library. I suppose maybe that’ll get answered sooner or later, whether it’s thanks to the readers sending me messages, or me reading it here in the story.

The Castle is very relieved to be back where it belongs, and remembers everything that had happened. I’m sure that includes Agatha killing him momentarily, but hey, she’s the Heterodyne and therefore kind of has the right to do that. It’ll take a while for the Castle to return to how it was before, but it can’t be that long.

It didn’t take long for her to find them, huh. Judging by the bloodshot eyes, she still has the effects of the Movit 11, and since she’s not currently a pile of ashes, she really managed to survive the other dose of Movin 11. Oh well, maybe next time. Does that mean Higgs is nearby?

Yeeeeah...no. Tarvek’s not going to sit back and let you do your moves, Zola. Even if you threaten him, he’s going to jump in. Don’t get any fancy ideas about sacrifices, Tarvek, one guy already did it already, and you have impacted much more in the story than him – no disrespect meant for Lars, though. He was a nice guy, I liked him.

Before Tarvek can brag once again that his plan was much better than this lousy plan that involves Zola, she pins him to the floor and threatens to kill him right then and there. Yeeeeah...uh, as I see it, with Zola you either die now or you die later. I doubt she’d keep Tarvek alive for long after she gets out of here, uh, if she won here and defeated Agatha, that is.

As expected, Agatha tackles Zola away and yells Zola’s plan failed, which is...something I’m pretty sure Zola doesn’t care about anymore. The problem here is that the Castle isn’t ready yet, so it’s going to take a while before it can crush Zola with a large replica of the Heterodyne emblem or something like that.

You know, it’s true Zola’s currently almost invincible, but she’s going to feel all these injuries at some point, right? I mean, she’s been shot, punched, kicked and other varied attacks, there’s no way that’s not going to hurt tomorrow. Right now she is...uh, in her own words...

...yeah, that, but I doubt she’s going to keep herself clouded with Movit 11 forever.

Because Tarvek’s shooting wasn’t enough to stop her, Zola jumps on his back and punches until blood is splattering around her. Ouch! Lately in this webcomic there sure has been a lot of blood being splattered around! Nary a page goes by without someone bleeding all over the place. Who’d have thought Girl Genius would get so bloody?

This fight is as if they’re taking turns to hurt each other. Zola attacks Tarvek, Agatha attacks Zola, Zola attacks Agatha, Tarvek attacks Zola. Did I wander into a RPG and I didn’t notice? Hah!

Higgs arrives to break Zola’s leg – which I suppose won’t be enough to stop her but still, that’s going to take a while to heal once she stops being a killing machine – and bam, interruption. Not that I mind, it brings good news.

Belated congratulations for going through the adventure of childbirth, Cheyenne and Eli. I hope the six years that have passed since then have been full of joy for you.

I have to confess it’s very difficult for me to know what to say during fights. They’re full of action, they’re full of constant movement, it’s not the kind of thing that can be adequately transmitted through a liveblog. I’m having a bit of a hard time knowing what to comment.

That’s a lousy plan, I’m afraid. Zola already showed she’s waaaaay above average in terms of endurance. This is going to last a while. By the time she’s done with the Movit 11, she’d have enough time to kill you both eleven times over.

Zola gets behind Agatha and garrotes her, gloating she’s going to win. Oh boy, you jinxed it, Zola, now you won’t. The laws of villainous gloating strike, the Castle throws a large block and demands Zola to let Agatha go. Success! Although...since when does the Castle do something like warning before killing, especially when Agatha’s life is at risk? The Castle is capable of precision, he showed that already earlier, when he crushed a devil dog while Tarvek was on it. Maybe it doesn’t feel ready to make a precision job like that.

Welp, looks like that’s kinda right, then! The Castle isn’t fully in control yet. At least they can rest assured it won’t be long before the Castle is fully prepared to get rid of Zola? That could make Zola kill Agatha faster – if it wasn’t for Tarvek aiming her gun at her. Yeah...this is pretty much a stalemate.

Knowing staying here would only mean she’d die, Zola decides it’s about time she finally flies the coop, and to do that, she’ll use one of the many contraptions the Heterodynes have obtained throughout the years. The Flight Raiment of King Darius the Incandescent! Whose title doesn’t fill me with confidence about the quality of his inventions, because knowing this world, he earned the title of Incandescent after something went wrong, didn’t he? Yeah, I bet he did.

In theory that looks like a fun thing to have. In reality I’d be deadly afraid I’d slip out of the coat mid-flight. Unfortunately for everyone, Zola doesn’t share my concerns and wants to use it to fly away, and judging by her words here, I suppose she plans to drop Agatha once she’s high enough, effectively killing her. Clearly the best plan of action would be to stall her somehow...and even that so-called ‘best plan of action’ puts Agatha’s life at risk.

I must say, Zola’s a pretty good villain, she’s intimidating, cunning, and knows to act. A bit more deranged than I usually like villains, but that’s more than fine. That’s just how she is.

I think I’ll stop here for now, right before Zola attempts her daring flying escape.

[faces-in-unexpected-places]

Do You Have the Time? Episode 012: Three Months

[April 9th, 2018, 16:42]

Leslie blinked and nudged herself out of her thoughts. She was hunkered over her clunky, wooden desk in her physics department office. It was so bulky that it almost took up the entire width of the room; she always had to squeeze between the desk and the wall if she wanted to get up. The room did not come with an overhead light, so she was forced to bring a lamp which gave her office a moody disposition. In front of her table sat two cushioned chairs for her students to sit in while they visited her office hours. On her left-side wall hung a shelf with plushie subatomic particles. Protons, electrons, quarks, photons, and her personal favourite, the Higgs Boson. Sitting isolated from the toys was a plastic essential oil diffuser that had a wood-like design, so that it matched the wood in her office. The scent was mild, but she chose to give her office a hint of peppermint this time.

On the other wall, her bachelor’s degree in physics and a concentration in mathematics. Just next to it rested her doctorate in Astronomy. The rest of the wall space was taken up paintings and drawings. One painting had a pink tree that sat on a hill as its focal point. The grass, winding turns of the land, and the pathway leading away from the tree were all showcased in different shades of pink and red. A black and white drawing of an abandoned medieval castle with foliage growing out of the cracks and all over the exterior bricks joined the tree painting.

Her desk was orderly and minimalistic like the one she used in the lab, as well. There was an inbox and an outbox towards the far left corner, and they contained a moderate amount of papers in each. She was grading a student’s exam from her Basic Physics I course. She had supposedly gotten distracted some time ago. Before she could refocus herself, a knock occurred at her door. “Come in!” she said, out of sorts, but still cheerful.

Max stepped in through the door, smiled at her and took a seat in one of her chairs. Leslie’s cheer quickly dissipated.

“How’s the semester wrapping up for you, Leslie? I hope it’s good! I’ve barely seen you in the department for the whole time,” he poked.

“Yes, it’s going fine. How about yours?” she responded with caution. “It’s pretty great. You know, I wanted to tell you: I think after this spring is finished up, the university is going to let me start teaching three credit hour classes, instead of one and two,” he leaned back in his chair with his legs crossed.

“That’s really great, Max. Congratulations,” she said, mildly.

“You do know what that means, right?” he asked, seeming confused.

“Yes, I do. It’s great news for you.”

“It means I’ll get a raise!”

“Yeah, it’s wonderful!” Leslie repeated, trying to sound more enthusiastic.

“Exactly, thank you!” Max replied, appearing satisfied, “In a few years, I’ll try to get my own lab for research. Right now, I’m just trying to get things off the ground. I could try to do joint-research with another professor like you did, but I’d rather have it be my own brainchild. Do you know what I mean? It just feels more real that way.”

Leslie instantly felt fatigued, after being re-exposed to Max’s affect.

“Do I know the difference between working on a team and as an individual? Yes, I know what you mean,” she said with a quick, half-joking chuckle. Max noted the comment and his expression appeared pompous in response.

“Are you still working with, uh, what was his name?”

“Dr. Leopold,” she said.

“Oh, that’s right. Looney was his name. He’s at the same level as us, right? He’s an assistant professor? Except he’s like thirty years older?”

“Yes, he’s an assistant professor. But he is right where he needs to be,” she defended.

“No, of course,” he threw his hands up in the air, “With how long he’s been in the game, you’d think he’d have more prestige, but you are right. He’s right where he should to be.”

Leslie narrowed her eyes at him. She remained silent, picked up her pen and continued grading the exam on her desk.

“We’re all doing great, actually,” she decided to continue, “We’ve had some new personnel in the lab for about seven months now. He’s been pretty great to work with.”

“Oh, that’s nice. What are his specialties?” Max quickly jumped on the subject.

“He’s got a great mind for mechanics and theory. He brought a lot of fresh ideas for our current research project, and it’s going to pay off well. I think he’s doing his dissertation on it, too.”

“Oh,” Max scoffed, “So, he doesn’t even have his PhD?”

“No, but he’s making great progress so far,” Leslie countered.

“Well, great job to him. Best of luck. Getting a PhD in physics is nothing like a bachelor’s,” Max jabbed, “Listen, I know that you’ve known Leopold for a long time. But I’m drawing up the hypotheses now, so that when I actually get my lab, my team can move fast. And, you’re very experienced and intelligent, and I would really love it… you know,” he nodded, “if you came to work for me.”

Leslie tensed her body and leaned back at her desk, away from Max.

“Just think about it, is all. It might give more opportunities than working with Looney and that other guy.”

“Jeremy,” she corrected.

“Jerry?”

“His name is Jeremy.”

“Jerome?” he asked with a smirk.

“Never mind,” she snapped, “Thank you for the offer, Maxwell, I will… certainly think about it,” she responded distantly.

“I really think that would be the right choice for you,” he said with excitement in his voice, “I think you’re very qualified, you know? You’ve put so much effort into all your studies, and I just think you could do so much more if you weren’t… well— you know— chasing shadows,” he said with a sympathetic raise of his eyebrows.

“…Chasing shadows?” she asked with distrust.

He laughed wryly to himself.

“I mean, come on, Leslie, time travel? It’s kind of a pipe dream. The math says we can do it, but our bodies can’t withstand the stress of time travel,” he muttered and chuckled, “It’s… it’s science fiction. It’s great science fiction. I can kill a whole weekend poring over time travel stories. But I think there should be a ‘time’ when you—when you finally let Looney go, and stop pretending that you’ll find something, you know? He hasn’t had tuition to pay for you for how long? I mean, what’s the point, now?”

“Well, the point, is that he might find a way around those human body problems,” she said curtly. She clenched her jaw, and felt her blood boil as the subject shifted from her to Leopold.

He widened his eyes and leaned toward her. She leaned even further away. “Are you really on board with this loon?”

Leslie felt her face and hands heating up with outrage. The nerve that Max had to plant himself in her office and question her decisions. To question Leopold when he knew nothing about him or the things he’d done for her. Her emotions felt like they were on the border of losing control; her body was shaking. She had no idea what to say or do. All Leslie wanted to do was fight. In whatever way she could. She sat up straight and prepared to retaliate. A knock resonated on her door. Leslie instantly retracted her temper, cleared her throat and answered.

“Come in!”

The door opened and Madison danced through it, accidentally swinging her backpack around. One of her loose straps whipped Max on the cheek. It was harmless, so Leslie didn’t say anything about it. She threw her book-bag down while sporting a grand smile, and plopped herself into the chair next to Max. “Damn girl, you really do have your own set up here, too!”

“Of course I do, honey. Why would I lie about that?” she asked, still with a hint of hostility.

“It’s just crazy, you’ve got two offices?! You are such a boss!” Madison continued, unaware of Leslie’s tone.

“We all have offices though, so… technically we’re all bosses,” Max interjected. Madison furrowed her brow in his direction, glanced at Leslie, then back to Max.

“Uh, hi,” she said.

“Madison, this is Dr. Murphy. A physics professor here at the university. He was just leaving,” she said with a glare in his direction.

“Yes, actually, I was. I’ve got some things to wrap up before I can go home today,” he played along and stood up. “I think we had a great talk, Leslie. We’ll catch up again another time, soon.”

“Enjoy your day,” Leslie said with aggravated precision. Max effortlessly crept out the door, and left Madison and Leslie together in the office. Madison wore a confused smile on her face and tilted her head.

“Damn Leslie, that boy stirs something up in you, doesn’t he? What, is he your ex or something?”

Leslie sighed.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” she mumbled under her breath. “No, he’s not,” she said aloud.

“Well, what’s his problem? Or what’s your problem with him?”

“Oh, honey, it’s all hard to remember,” Leslie exhaled. “We were friends a long time ago, and then somewhere along the way, I feel like he started getting… weird with me, and I don’t know what I did to even warrant it, and—” she shuddered. “It’s been a long day. Maybe we should talk about something else. How are classes? Are you ready for finals?” she redirected the conversation.

Madison scoffed.

“Fat chance,” she replied with not hesitation, “If we’re going to talk about something else, let’s at least make it not about my struggles, alright?”

“Okay, that’s okay,” Leslie accepted. They paused and thought about ways to break the silence.

“It took me forever to find your office,” Madison started, “But thanks for telling me where it is. It looks really nice! Wish I had my own space like this.”

Leslie chuckled.

“I think it might actually be a utility closet that the university just converted to an office for me. But I made it my own, anyway. If this is the hand they deal me, I don’t even want to know what kind of deal the adjunct professors get,” she joked.

“I really like the decorations you’ve got. It brings out a cutesy side of you that I didn’t know about!” Madison commented, “Those are some sweet paintings and adorable toys.”

“Aww, thanks, sweetie. I made them myself!”

“You what? Really?”

“Oh yeah!” Leslie smiled, “The paintings took a while, but the plushies? I could do a few of those in a day.”

“That is so amazing, do you take requests?!” Madison nearly shouted and leaned toward the desk, “I had no idea you liked stuff like this! Why haven’t we talked about this instead. Who cares about chemistry and science and all that other garbage, you can make toys! Honestly, you would make a pretty good Santa Clause. Mostly your personality, though. You’re pretty much the opposite of Santa in the physical appearance department.”

“Thank you?” Leslie replied with a perplexed smile and furrowed brow, “How about this, Madison: I was planning on leaving soon, so I am going to pack up my stuff and go to research building. I haven’t checked to see if our lab has been reopened for a few days. If you want, you can walk with me, and we can talk all about our hobbies and destress the whole time.”

“You got it, boss!”

“Okay,” she said with a slight laugh.

“So, if I have to take a physics class, does that mean I could have you as my professor?” Madison asked.

“Umm, probably not, sweetie. I usually teach the simpler physics courses for non-science majors,” Leslie stacked the inbox papers on her desk and placed them into her backpack.

“What about Leo?”

“Hmm… he doesn’t teach as consistently as I do. He’s known to take breaks every few semesters. But he might teach more diverse classes, so… it’s possible!”

Leslie powered down her computer and slipped between the wall and desk, carrying her backpack in her hands. She cracked the door open and squeezed out of her office.

“Whew!” she chuckled. Madison jumped out into the hallway after her. Leslie reached around her and shut the office door behind them. She led the way out of the physics building and through campus as Madison skipped alongside her. Madison grilled her with questions about her paintings and plush toys. When did she start? Why did she start? What are her influences? What’s her favourite part? Can she teach Madison to make toys? As soon as Leslie answered one question, Madison instantly replaced it with another. She was flattered by Madison’s interest, but ultimately, her investment in crafty projects was less intense than Madison’s. Maybe if Madison got to participate with her, she would get her fill and move on. Leslie considered inviting her back to her apartment to paint and make plushes, but decided to put it off. She thought it best to ask when Madison was less wound up about the whole thing.

Leslie opened the doors to their research building to see Leopold leaned against Martha’s front desk, laughing. Seeing the two of them create happy moments for Leo to remember made her smile. He turned to the noise of the door opening and waved her and Madison over.

“Hey there, you two!” Leopold said, “I was just wondering where everyone was.”

Leslie almost seemed to ignore what he said and immediately went in for an unexpected, and tight hug. She glommed onto Leo; wrapped her arms around his torso and rested her chin on his shoulder.

“Whoa—okaaay!” he jolted happily, “What’s this all about, poppet?” he chuckled, It’s only been a few days, you know.”

“Don’t you think I’m a little old to be called poppet?” she said, still attached to him.

“Not when you’re stuck to me like this, you’re not!”

“Come to think of it, ‘poppet’ is a name for little girls! You should have called me that when I was seven, not seventeen!”

“Oh, so, I missed you by a decade, big deal!”

Madison began playing with the trinkets on Martha’s desk, and talking to her. Leslie released Leo from her grip.

“What was all this about anyway, huh?” he asked, with a gentle smile.

“I was just thinking about you today. We’ve come a long way from eleven years ago.”

Leopold hummed and nodded to her statement.

“Yes, we have, kid… yes, we have.”

Their attention was brought to voices coming near from the hallway opposite to Leopold’s lab. Leslie stepped in front of Leo and faced Sophia walking towards them. Jeremy walked alongside her with IO next to him. Someone else about Jeremy’s age accompanied Sophia on the other side, conversing with her. He had dark, shaggy, over-washed hair, and bangs that came to sharp looking points on his forehead. He wore burgundy and cream coloured plaid pants, an unbuttoned lab coat, and a white shirt underneath it that read ‘I bet you can’t 01010011 01110000 01100101 01100001 01101011 00100000 01100010 01101001 01101110 01100001 01110010 01111001.’ He had wire-framed glasses and carried multiple pens in the breast pocket of his lab coat. Just under his pocket was a blue Space Invader. Jeremy looked uncomfortable in their conversation, if not aggravated.

“So Dr. Blythe was thinking we could generously use the left over money in our lab’s grant combined with the surplus in The Board of Research’s budget to host the conference in San Diego this year.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes.

“Oh really? Blythe said that?” Sophia said with a flat tone.

“After she supported the idea, I decided to bring it to you to run it up the chain of command to the department head. I know you two are close,” he explained.

“So this is your idea. Not Blythe’s,” she concluded.

“Thought it might sound more convincing if it was coming from her, but yes, it’s mine,” he quickly rambled, “But whomever it came from, it’s a good idea. And that’s the part that matters.”

Sophia sighed in exasperation.

“I’m sorry Dexter, I simply don’t see a benefit of moving the conference across the country when doing it in the Curiesville convention centre has proven perfectly adequate time and time again.”

“Except that it would renew interest in local research, and increase overall attendance,” Dexter hinted before she could walk away. Sophia finally turned to face him and crossed her arms, giving her full attention for the first time. Jeremy frowned and backed away with IO. His lab friends also watched the scene, uncomfortably.

“Anything else?” Sophia challenged with an irritated, furrowed brow, “If you’re going to keep following me around, at least tell me your entire proposal so I can veto it. I’m sick of my answer, which is no, by the way, being countered with yet another reason why I should reconsider. So, come on, out with it. Why is this such a great idea?”

“If we host it in San Diego, people will be more interested in the event, and attendance will go up. People have more fun, it draws more attention to the university, then to our research, then we get an increase in grants. Maybe certain people get some raises? Maybe the board or even individual labs get sponsorships? There are infinite possibilities. The likelihood of any of these also increases with the amount of time we spend there. If it was a weekend event, people could do more networking, and enjoy the luxuries of the west coast. We’ve never had those opportunities in cold, dry Curiesville,” Dexter leaned back after his speech, appearing pleased with himself.

“Hmm,” Sophia paused with caution.

“I would certainly be more motivated to present in San Diego, and Dr. Blythe and I have some of the most cutting-edge research in the building. And that’s not hubris, that’s just a fact.”

“And how do you propose transportation would work? How do you know the board wouldn’t end up losing money by paying for a larger number of participants than usual to fly out to California?” she cross-examined.

“Because people from San Diego would also attend, and possibly other research institutes if we made it public enough. Transportation could be left up to the participants, anyway,” he said, “Realistically, if their research is worth presenting, I’m sure they can spare a few hundred dollars of grant money to travel to California for a weekend,” he shrugged.

The colour drained from Leopold’s face and he broke into a cold sweat. Leslie and Jeremy glanced at him with similar expressions. He reflexively shook his head at Dexter’s idea. It caught Sophia’s eye and she worked to conceal a smirk. She cleared her throat and maintained a professional demeanour with Dexter.

“I am making no deals, nor promises,” she began, “But I will look into it.”

“I’ll check in with you for regular updates, soon,” he said proudly.

“Don’t get excited,” she said, “I still have the time travel club to deal with before I can get to work on that.” They turned from each other and faced Leopold and his team.

“Yeah, what’s the deal Jeremy, why’d you bring the party pooper to our party? To POOP ON—?” Madison blurted out.

“OkaAAAY,” Leslie talked over her and covered her mouth, “You’ve made a great point just now, sweetie, that’s probably good enough.”

“You might want to watch how you talk to the person who is about to give you your lab back,” Sophia scoffed. The team traded glimpses in surprise at the remark.

“So… the gas leak was fixed?” Leo deduced.

“Yeah, essentially,” she replied, “It turns out that one of the pipes that collects the fumes from one of the organic chemistry labs had a fissure in it, so a lot of those gases — methane, hydrogen, chlorine — were starting to leak into your lab. But it’s been repaired, and they’re being disposed of properly again. I had the seals taken off your doors this morning; the air should be fine.”

The group looked at Jeremy for further validation.

“She wanted me to deliver the news, but I thought you should hear it from her. That’s why  I brought her here with me,” Jeremy added, “Less room for miscommunication.”

Leopold’s anxious face softened. Leslie kept a straight face and an erect posture in an attempt to remain professional.

“Well… we appreciate you being so transparent on the issue, Sophia,” she said with a hint of gratitude, “And great job to you, Jeremy. Great idea.”

He acknowledged her compliment with a smile and a nod. Dexter stepped forward and scanned the time travel club.

“Hmph,” Dexter enunciated, “So your research is temporal relocation. How far into the past or future have you been able to travel? Or are you still testing objects?” he asked.

Leopold sheepishly glanced off to the side.

“W—well, we are still working out the kinks for experiment one—”

“You haven’t even started experiments yet? Don’t you know that at least one research paper needs to be finished by July? And that abstracts need to be turned in by June? Have you even written your introduction?”

“No, but—” Jeremy stuttered.

“Do you even have a ‘time machine?’” he scoffed, “I don’t even have to do any calculations to know that you’ll have to work overtime every day to be prepared for the conference.”

“I’m sorry, Dexter, I don’t ever remember Leopold asking for your opinion,” Leslie shot back, “Why don’t you worry about your own research, and we’ll see you at the conference in August.”

“I don’t have anything to worry about because my presentation and research project is finished. Dr. Blythe and I are treating Cystic Fibrosis with CRISPR-Cas9. I don’t assume you’ve heard of that.”

“I have, actually,” Leslie said with folded arms.

“Well, it’ll be old news soon, anyway. Dr. Blythe and I will be starting a new, joint-project together after the convention. It’ll be my last project in my post-doc.”

“You’re getting your post-doctorate right now?” Jeremy questioned.

“That’s right. I really played my cards right. If I hadn’t I’d probably still be getting my PhD, too,” he shrugged. Jeremy felt lighter with a surge of anger and shock running through him. He couldn’t think of anything to say, for he was too caught off guard. He clenched his jaw.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Leslie spat.

Jeremy wondered how she even came up with anything to say.

“Then keep your eyes open, and you’ll be believing it any day now. I should tweak a few things in my paper before they publish it, anyway. Better get to work, Jeremy,” Dexter heckled, “I’m excited to read your first paper; I’m sure it will be great. But I’m a sucker for science fiction, so I’m biased.”

“Wha— I—”

“Come with me, Dexter. I want to finish working out the kinks of this San Diego trip before I forget. Enjoy your lab, there, Loon. Manage your time well,” Sophia mocked Leopold as she and Dexter turned and walked away.

“Oh, we will be just fine. Brilliant ideas work fast,” Leslie called to the both of them. She stood still, staring at their backs in silence. Madison and Leopold both stirred, as if they were going to leave, but she pulled both of them back to her side.

“Not yet. Stay here,” she directed, “Jeremy. Get over here, too.”

Confused and unsure, he drifted over to the other three with IO following behind. Leslie faced them in the same direction as her. She held a stone-cold expression, glaring Dexter and Sophia down while holding the rest of her team close. Martha held her body stiffly, out of discomfort. Jeremy spoke to her quietly, out of the side of his mouth.

“I thought you said people were intimidated by me for researching time travel,” he said.

“Well, I sure was! But… I am intimidated by most people who work here. Maybe I misread the room a little bit. Sorry sweetie,” she replied.

He sighed.

“I still think you’re all geniuses!” she whispered.

“At least we’ve got someone in our fan club,” Leo laughed wryly.

“Hey girl, you really know how to stand up for people!” Madison praised.

“Yeah, other people…” Leslie murmured, “Uh— but I— thank you, dear.” The two finally turned the corner and the team was officially alone. Leslie dispersed the group.

“Everything is not fine! We have to get moving,” she whisper-shouted, “We have to start writing our introduction!” She skittered down the hallway opposite to the one of their enemies, and waved them to follow her. Madison immediately lunged forward with her.

“Hey, hey, wait!” Martha whisper-shouted. Leslie kept running. Madison stopped in her tracks and looked back from a distance. Leopold and Jeremy came closer to her desk. Martha reached down beneath her desk, and placed three cardboard boxes on the surface.

“You got something delivered today,” she said, “I personally held onto them for you, just in case. I don’t trust some of these other employees around here, you know?”

Leopold glimpsed at the return address and raised his eyebrows. He picked up a box to check their weights. They were all fairly light, as he expected.

“The chemicals came?” Jeremy asked.

“Early,” Leo emphasised, “By an entire week!” he exclaimed, “Let’s go, let’s go! We’ve got work to do! Thank you, Martha! This is just what we needed!”

She smiled as Leo snatched a box, and ran. Madison stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Jeremy waved her away in the direction of their lab. He carried one box and stuffed the other inside the carrying compartment in IO’s body.

“Go on ahead, we got the boxes! We have no time to lose!”

[esdeem]

Anchors, an Overwatch Fanfic

Okay, I’m going to preface this by saying I’ve not done much revision work at all on this, so I apologize for any egregious errors in grammar, characterization, lore or quantum mechanics. I felt really inspired so I just let it flow. I might pick at it a bit and post it a few other places.

It’s inspired by this amazing artwork here and I hope this little fic tribute does it justice. Also there’s not nearly enough Lena/Emily stuff out there and I’m hoping we get to see more of their relationship in the future, as I think it’s really cute. (And yes, I really do think the two of them would be big Disney nerds.)

Author rambling out of the way, here’s the story. I hope you like it!

-----

Winston stopped marking the passage of time in hours, day or weeks. Instead, he counted how many jars of peanut butter lay strewn across his desk, and how many white boards he'd filled with calculations. Presently, those numbers stood at fourteen and six. Soon, he'd have to start raiding other offices to keep up with the workload.

“You are working yourself toward an eventual sugar crash,” a voice called out from the computer speakers.

“I'll deal with that later, Athena.” Winston mumbled, chewing on the cap of the erasable marker in his hand. “I don't imagine anyone's come up with any major breakthroughs in the unified theory in the last few days, have they?”

“There are currently no new academic papers to that effect,” Athena replied. “There is a man in Wisconsin with some new ideas, but in my opinion they rely too heavily upon Doctor Who and the Terminator franchise.”

“Which ones?”

“Genisys.”

“Ugh.” He scribbled a few more calculations, though perhaps Athena had a point. The details of quantum chemistry had grown fuzzy, and he noticed with embarrassment that he'd assumed a superfluid in the current design behaved as a Bose-Einstein condensation, which of course was foolish. He erased the details with his forearm and grumbled. Literally back to the drawing board--

“Winston,” Athena interrupted. “You asked to be informed when Ms. Oxton reappeared--”

She didn't even finish, as Winston dropped the marker and bounded out the door, and down to the main lab floor.

* * *

The gorilla rested his hand on one fist, a brow arched high. “Really.”

“Cross my heart, love. Saw him pull it out of the stone and everything.”

“And they couldn't see you?”

“Think they were all a little distracted, what with the whole next King of England being chosen. Funny way to pick a king that, don't you think?”

“Lena, you know the whole King Arthur story was a myth, right?” Winston smirked. “And if he really existed, he wouldn't have been anything like the old stories.”

“Okay, fine, you got me. It was just a field again, nothing really happened.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Y'know, a real friend would nod and smile.”

“I know, it's just... I keep hoping if I know when you're going, it would help me figure out a solution.”

“You don't want to hear it big guy, but maybe there's just... not a solution?”

“It's funny,” Winston said, ambling over closer to the containment field. “I seem to remember a member of Overwatch who believed in taking in a refugee from the moon and protected him from other people who claimed he was just a company asset. Someone who believed in his value, no matter what anyone else said.” He pushed his glasses back up and smiled. “You never gave up on me, Lena. I won't give up on you either.”

“Awww, you big lug. You're gonna make me cry.” She giggled, but then stood up and looked at a small table the others set up for her, where a simple picture frame sat. She remembered the day they took the photo, their first day in any of the six parks. The silver, geodesic  sphere behind them glowed in the Florida sun, but paled in comparison to the smile on the red haired woman's face. She'd dreamed of that vacation most of her life, and Lena hadn't told her until the day they boarded a plane for the United States. The trip had been almost perfect, save for the hurricane scare at the end. They'd not had a chance to see the Magic Kingdom itself, and to see the reveal of the majestic castle at its center. She promised to take them back one day....

She could close her eyes and see that smile, smell that perfume she always teased her about but secretly loved. If she tried, she could even remember the softness of her fingertips pressing against hers and the warmth of her embrace on a cold winter's day.

“You still don't want us to contact her?”

She reached for the frame, but her fingers passed through it. With a sigh, she reached into the pocket of her flight jacket, and her fingers closed across a small box, one of the few things she could still touch.

“She's better off not knowing about this, Winston. I'd rather she move on with her life, rather than keep holding out for a cure that might not happen.”

* * *

“It's safe?”

“Well, there's not really any guarantees, that's why they call the job test pilot, silly. But you know I've done a bunch of these already, right?”

“That,” Emily said, a crooked smile on her face, “Is a glorious attempt at sugar coating things.”

“I happen to know that someone likes their coffee with sugar and cream, so I tell her things the same way.”

Emily gave Lena's shoulder a playful shove. “You're terrible.”

“Guilty, but what does that say for you, then?”

“That I'm more attracted to your looks that your moral character?”

“How salacious!” Lena smirked, but then took hold of Emily's hands. “You know you're technically not supposed to know this, but if this works then we're going to save the lives of hundreds of pilots. And not just fighter pilots! Imagine if you put that in a commercial plane. They start to have engine trouble, they can just teleport it back to an airport for a safe landing.”

“Well then, Ms. Oxton,” Emily said, and squeezed her hands gently, “I shouldn't keep you from your mission to save the world.”

“Someone has to, right?” Lena reluctantly let go of her hands.“Oh, by the way? You might want to get dressed up while I'm off doing this. Someone might have scored reservations at Alain Ducasse at the Dorchester.”

Emily's eyes grew large. “You must really be expecting this test flight to go well.”

“Just a hunch, love.”

“I'll be ready,” she said, and let out a soft laugh. “I'm glad you told me, though. Usually you love springing things like that as a surprise.”

“Oh, maybe I'm turning over a new leaf.” Lena said, and pushed one hand into her pocket, and let her hand close around a small box inside. Silly Emily, to think she didn't have another surprise up her sleeve.

Emily had almost finished getting ready when Jack Morrison called with the news that the Slipstream vanished without a trace. And as the light swallowed the plane and its pilot, Lena Oxton's fingers closed around that same box as she apologized to Emily for missing their date.

* * *

“It's Higgs,” Winston announced. “Or more precisely, the Higgs Field. Whatever happens to Tracer during the accident, it prevents the bosons in her body from interacting with the Higgs Field. It's amazing, actually, because we had no idea that mass affected how we interact with time, and that does lead to some interesting implications for future research--”

“Winston? Focus.”

“Ahem, right. Sorry. We know how it happens, now we just have to figure out how to fix it.”

Angela Ziegler pressed a finger to her lips as she looked over the notes. Winston had done his best to simplify things, but the baffling world of quantum mechanics still provided a powerful obstacle. Lena Oxton's condition stood at a complex intersection of advanced biology and theoretical physics, and thus far attempts to combine the two fields proved frutiless.

To say nothing of the more practical concerns, which McCree once less than eloquently summed up as the pair discussed it with him in the room.

“Hard to give a shot to a ghost, ain't it?”

Dr. Ziegler still wasn't even sure how Lena had survived, since she'd not eaten anything in months. Perhaps the phenomenon that unmoored her from time halted the biological processes of her body. It made little sense, but to be fair nothing about this situation made any sense at all. She'd run a variety of simulations, but none of them came close to duplicating Lena's results.

And just like a shot, it wasn't as though she could take a sample of Lena's blood to study, either.

“If we could just bring her back in sync with our world, even for a moment...” she said aloud.

“I've tried a few different things,” Winston admitted. “But we never even know how long of an experimental window we have. She's vanished in mid conversation more often that not.” He jotted another formula on the board, stared at it a moment then marked it out hastily, growling.

“We have to be patient, Winston. If we give it enough time--”

With a roar, Winston punched the white board, sending it flying across the room. His skin started to turn red, electricity flaring around his eyes. “You know the numbers as well as I do! It's not predictable, but the mean amount of time she spends in our world is decreasing. If we don't hurry, she'll... she'll...”

Dr. Ziegler put an arm on his shoulder. “I know, Winston. And I know what she means to you. But your anger won't help her. Just... please calm down. We can't do this without you.”

Winston slowed his breathing, and slowly his skin started to return to normal. “I... I'm sorry. But we can't... I can't lose her.”

“I know. That's why you need to control yourself.”

The gorilla walked over to the white board and picked it up again. “I only wish Lena could control this, like the others can control their abilities.”

“Have you asked her to try?”

“Of course, but it doesn't work, at least not consistently. She's been able to phase in enough to move things just a little, but it never lasts.” Winston sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if McCree's right, and we shouldn't just call in a ghost researcher.”

“I don't know what's scarier, that you're considering ghost researchers legitimate scientists, or the fact the words 'McCree's right' just came out of your mouth.”

“It's not like we're having any better luck with our science.” Winston stared at the board again. “Of course, they'd say she was haunting this facility, or was even some kind of haunted thing.”

“There are haunted things?”

“Oh, all kinds of haunted items. Usually really old, and associated with some kind of tragedy in the past. Usually it's stuff like paintings or dresses. Oh, and dolls. Lots and lots of dolls.”

Dr. Ziegler said nothing, and Winston finally looked up to see the incredulous look she was giving him.

“Look, it gets really boring some nights here, and they play a lot of those shows at night,” he said. “But it's not like Lena's haunting us. She's very much alive, and it's not like she...”

Winston stopped speaking, the marker leaving a long streak on the white board. “That's it.”

Dr. Ziegler waited a moment to respond. “You need sleep, doctor's orders.”

“No no, I don't mean we call in the ghost people. But maybe that's what we've been missing.”

“What's that?”

“We've been focusing on curing Lena, and maybe she's right. Maybe that can't be done.” Winston wiped away the calculations and, instead of writing more, he started to sketch out a design. “But what if we didn't have to? What if, like a haunted object, there was something that kept Lena here? Like... a device that served as an anchor, pulling the Higgs field back toward her?”

“Then we could try to figure out a permanent cure.”

“There's just one problem,” he said. “I might be able to extend the field once it activated, but... she'd need to be wearing it first.”

“Which would require a greater control over her state than she currently possesses. I don't imagine you have any ideas on how to help her do that?”

Winston stared at the sketch and tapped the marker against the board. He turned to the side, lost in thought. As fate would have it, he found himself looking at a picture he and Lena had taken together, one that always stood next to his work station. Slowly, a smile passed over his face.

“You know why all those silly shows about ghosts said that some people stayed behind to haunt things?”

“I can't believe we're having this conversation, but why?”

“Because they had a reason to stay.”

It took her a moment, but once Dr. Ziegler understood, she smiled as well. They had a second, more important anchor after all.

* * *

When she was eight years old, Lena broke her left leg and right foot leaping from the top of a playground slide pretending she was a super hero. It happened only a day after the end of her summer term, and she spent her entire summer holiday between her bed and the sofa in the living room while she could hear the laughter and excitement from her friends outside. She longed to escape the house and rejoin them, but her parents said in no uncertain terms that super hero games would be off limits when she did.

Well, they said no playing but they never said no dreaming. Armed with notebook, pencil and pen she started to document her adventures as a super hero that could do a whole lot more than jump off playground equipment. In her version of things, Lena could copy the powers of other heroes by touching them. Really, it just gave her an excuse to use whatever power struck her fancy in the moment. She never gave the hero a name, until a friend visited and saw a drawing she copied from one of the books.

“That's not really yours,” they teased. “You just traced it.”

“What's wrong with being a tracer?”

The name stuck, and Tracer even became her call sign as a test pilot.

Those memories came back to Lena often since the accident, since both times she found herself unable to do much. Sometimes she'd reappear in the dead of night and beg Athena not to wake anyone, since she might vanish. She rarely found herself anywhere interesting during her time jumps, and never stayed there long enough to even see much, let alone start a decent conversation. Maybe she didn't have a notebook to record it all, but she could still dream.

Of course, a lot of her dreams dealt with food. Instead of rushing into a burning building to save the day, Lena imagined dropping off by the pub for a quick drink or a favorite spot for a bite to eat. Today, she went back to an old favorite. She used to stop by her favorite chippy at least once a week, where they always fried the fish while you waited. Little spots of oil singed your fingertips even through the paper. Then we went to the condiment stand, where she added the right amount of malt vinegar... or as her friends put it, “nearly drowned everything in it”. The aroma of the beer batter mingled with the tang of the vinegar.. it made Lena's mouth water just thinking about it.

She'd been just about to bite into the imaginary plank of fish when footsteps echoed from behind her. With a soft sigh, she stood up. “Can't a girl have just a few minutes to dream before you start running more tests?”

“...Lena?”

She froze.

“Lena, is that really you?”

Her fists balled up, and she drew in a halting breath. For the first time since the accident she felt afraid, and it kept her from turning around or even looking over her shoulder. The uncertain future, the increasing doubts of Winston and Dr. Ziegler, even the days when hope all but faded away, she could handle that. But seeing a look of pain on her face, knowing something she'd done brought tears to that beautiful face...

“You can hear me, can't you?”

It still took her a minute to find her voice. “You're still wearing that awful perfume, aren't you?”

“The one you gave me a bottle of for Christmas last year? Of course.”

“Only because you like the stuff, and I was daft enough to support you.” The silence hung between them a moment. “I didn't want you to see me like this, Em.”

“Your doctor explained it to me,” Emily said. “I don't understand it completely, but... I'm here now.”

“Truth is, I really hoped you'd get on with your life. Forget about me, move forward, maybe even start dating again and find someone a bit more normal. I can handle this burden, but I... I wanted you to be happy.”

“Happy.” Emily's voice drew closer. “I thought I knew what that meant, but then I met you. Hearing you giggle at my silly jokes, or make fun of how my hair looked in the morning, or hugging me after a long day at the office. Lena, it's hard to move on with my life when you are my life.”

“Em...” She still couldn't bring herself to turn around.

“You remember how you always made me a cake from scratch for my birthday, and insisted on putting the candles on it? I hadn't done that since I was a little girl, but you always made me blow out the candles and make a wish before I could eat it? That's what you brought me. You made me realize how special, how magical life really is. I did it again this year, and I made a wish again. You know what I wished for?”

“You know if you tell me--”

“I know, but I'll give you a hint,” Emily said, her voice starting to waver. “You just need to turn around.”

Dammit. Lena looked to the ground and closed her eyes, then slowly turned to face her. With a deep breath to steel herself, she opened her eyes once more. To her surprise, Emily wore a beautiful emerald green dress, her red hair cascading around her shoulders. And while her cheeks shone with tears, there wasn't a hint of pain on her face. Instead, she rewarded Lena with that perfect smile, the one she dreamed about seeing so often.

“See? You just made it come true.”

“You look amazing.”

“You think so?” A flush of red splashed across her cheeks. “It's... what I was going to wear that night.”

“And suddenly, I'm even more upset about the accident.” She giggled, and even drew a small chuckle from Emily as well. “I've missed you.”

“It's really quiet without you around. Believe it or not, I'm starting to hate it.”

“You might regret saying that some day.”

“If I'm lucky.” Emily reached a hand out.

“You can't actually touch me, you know.”

“I know, but someone taught me that it's okay to just dream sometimes.”

Lena lifted her hand. Truth be told, she dreamed of this often as well. She missed the little things, like just walking down the street with their hands locked together. Like the rest of her, her fingers had taken on a blueish glow, translucent enough to just see Emily's fingers through her own. They drew closer together, as she tried to stop just enough to make certain Emily's hand didn't pass through hers, to provide a stark reminder of how desperate her situation truly was. Closer, closer...

They touched.

...they touched.

Emily's fingertips pressed gently against hers, and the glow faded. She trailed her fingers down Emily's, to her palm. Wrapping her hand around hers, she gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I'm back,” Lena whispered. “You brought me back.”

Somehow, Emily's smile grew even more radiant than before. “See? I told you I wasn't going to let go of you so easily.”

With one swift motion, Lena drew close and pulled Emily into a tight hug. Both women started to sob as they held the embrace, Lena's head resting on her shoulder as she cried. After a moment, Lena lifted her head up and whispered into her ear.

“There's something I need to tell you,” she said.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“This is hard to admit, but...” Lena bit her lip. “It was a box mix. Every year. I'm a lousy cook.”

Emily kissed her cheek. “I think I might be able to forgive you.”

* * *

“We can make adjustments as needed,” Winston said as Lena pulled at one of the straps that held the bulky contraption in place. “After it activates, the field generator will route the bosons in your body to the local portion of the Higgs field. I call it a chronal accelerator because--”

“Winston, love, I know you find all this really amazing,” she said. “But you lost me way back at 'It's simple physics'. Pretty much, I turn on the Matrix of Leadership here and I'm anchored back in the real world full time?”

“Yes, and there might be some interesting applications we can test down the line. More importantly, after it's been activated you won't have to wear it all the time. As long as you're in close proximity to the device and it still has power, you'll remain connected to our time.”

“Good thing, that. Would've made showers and changing clothes really awkward.”

“I did make it waterproof,” Winston said and pushed his glasses up with one finger. “I know how much it rains in London, after all.”

“Well, guess we'll give this thing a shot.”

“You'll probably want Emily in here with you,” Winston said, and glanced back to the lab's control room. “I should--”

“Stay here. You're as much a part of this as anyone.”

“She doesn't know about me yet, Lena. She'll think I'm like the others, and be afraid...”

“And then she'll get to know you, and love you like the rest of us do.”

“Like Reyes?”

“Difference is, Emily's not a raging asshole.”

“Point taken. I just, um, don't want to ruin the moment.”

“Okay, let me put it another way,” Lena said and jabbed a finger into Winston's chest. “If you so much as think about hiding in that control room, I will kick your butt.”

He sighed and took a few steps back. “Fine.” He pressed a button on his wrist comm. “Dr. Ziegler, we're ready to activate the accelerator. If you'd sent Emily in please.”

It took only a minute for Emily to make her way into the lab. She walked over to Lena, but stopped in her tracks when she saw the massive form of Winston standing across from them. She stared, and Winston could only manage a weak wave.

“Uh, hello. I'm Winston.”

Emily finally turned away from him, and to Lena. “Amazing. You weren't lying about the gorilla scientist.”

“Wait, you told her about me?”

“Before the accident even. Oops.”

“You are a walking security risk.”

“Guilty.” Inhaling sharply, she looked down at the chronal accelerator. “So, shall we turn this thing on?”

“If you're ready.”

She grabbed Emily's hands and gently squeezed them, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Now I'm ready.”

“You should take a few steps back, miss,” Winston warned.

Emily nodded and walked beside him. Lena pressed the buttons in the sequence Winston told her, and the center of the accelerator sparked to life with a faint blue glow. Seconds later, she felt a strange wave pulse through her body. At first, everything around her seemed to move it slow motion, then sped up even faster than normal. After a few more seconds, a pulse from the accelerator bathed the room in blue light. Lena looked at the device, then to Emily and Winston. The gorilla moved to a nearby terminal and started hitting buttons.

“Am I supposed to feel any different?”

“I don't know, but all the readouts seem good. Did you experience anything strange when you turned it on.”

“Like the real world acting like I hit rewind and fast forward on a movie?”

Winston grinned. “The blink and recall functions worked at start up! You're going to like those, but we can talk about them later. Now that you're stable, I'm sure Dr. Ziegler will want to run a few tests. You might have to follow her around, since your blood will be just as unstable as the rest of her, but it shouldn't take too long.”

“Fine, but first things first.” She threw her arms open. “Hug time!”

Emily ran over and fell into her arms. Winston turned away to give them privacy.

A second later, he heard Lena clear her throat. “Winston?”

He turned to see both Lena and Emily with their arms stretched out to him.

“Huh?”

“You're the one who brought her back,” Emily said. “So you're a part of this hug too.”

“But I--”

“You're my best friend, you big lug. So get over here before I drag you into it.”

With a smile, he walked over and gently wrapped his arms around the two. It would be the first of many he'd share with his new family.

* * *

She'd booked the trip only a week after the accelerator tests proved successful, though this time she let Emily in on their plans a little sooner.

“I decided maybe Ducasse wasn't really our speed,” she said as she showed Emily the plane tickets to Orlando.

“Not surprising me this time? You're losing your touch, Ms. Oxton.”

Silly Emily, underestimating her like that.

Getting her out of bed that morning proved the most daunting challenge, as Emily hit the snooze button at least five times before Lena finally gave up and pushed her off the side of the bed. A few beignets from the food court bought her forgiveness. Emily didn't even bat an eye as a private town car pulled up in front of their hotel and whisked them away to the park, long before the gates opened to the public.

“Commander Morrison knows some people,” Lena said, and Emily accepted it without question.

Save a few cast members, it was empty as they walked down through the gates and turned the corner. Lena didn't take her eyes off Emily's face as the castle revealed itself in the distance, framed by the shops of Main Street. Lena squeezed her hand softly.

“What do you think?”

“It's amazing!”

“We should get a picture, shouldn't we?” Lena said, and winked to the photographer behind her.

“Oh, of course!”

She never saw it coming, maybe because Lena just hugged her for the first two pictures. The photographer directed them for the next show, getting Emily in just the right position.

“And Ms. Oxton, I think you know your pose.”

She reached into her pocket, for the box she'd held onto since the day of the accident. She pulled it out just as she dropped to one knee and opened it to reveal the ring inside.

“Surprise,” she said with a sheepish grin.

The next picture was Emily answering that question with a kiss.

[adrianalvas]

Podcast 191: AnD [Inner Surface Music][ +Interview]

Mancunian duo AnD rose to prominence in 2011 following a slew of ground breaking releases characterised by their refurbished, stripped back and Dave Clarke-inspired brandof techno. True vinyl purists, the two maintain fierce analogue production principals and showcase this in their heavy hitting live show.

AnD’s modernistic approach has been endorsed by trailblazing UK imprints Project Squared and Idle Hands, whilst their purist ideologies have been employed by the visionary Horizontal Ground, Black Sun Records, Electric Deluxe Repitch labels. Meanwhile covert productions on their own self-titled white label series has seen the pair embrace the shadowy outskirts of techno, furthered by a collaboration with Headless Horseman, Sunil Sharpe and D.Carbone for the clandestine Brothers imprint.

Together with Tom Dicicco, the three artists established Inner Surface Music back in 2011,which has already garnered support from the likes of Regis, Surgeon, Lucy, Norman Nodge, DVS1 and many more.

TF: Tell us something about you. Where did you studied and who influenced you to explore musical processes?

AnD: We both have quite different backgrounds Andrew studied graphic design and Dimitri studied electrical engineering. Music was something that came to both of us quite early on Dimitri played several musical instruments as a child and Andrew was collecting records and music from his early teens and started to dj at 17. With djing and producing music we both got sucked in and when we first met up to write music together 15years ago its been the same ever since. We both influence each other and this comes across in the work, two peoples creativity becoming something different.

TF: When you look back to your career with all its highs and lows, can you imagine having done things differently? Is it more fate or choice?

AnD: No one should ever regret what they have done, we all make our choices and should stick to them. We are happy we made the choices we have and worked hard to create a body of work, this is the only way to approach anything.

TF: You haven’t given much interviews and you remain quite discreet despite of the recognition your productions and contribution to the techno culture. Do you think that an excessive media exposure tends to cause harm to music?

AnD: Definitely puts a different type of focus on everything, most of the time it´s all just a big pile of bullshit when it comes to social media. People who seem to take care about what they do in all art forms, don't get the recognition they deserve. People don't really care! but when people post selfies and egotistical posts everyone is in for the good time!

Sometimes media also play things safe, they say they support the real underground but a lot of the time its hard for talented new artists to get features on their sites or magazines. The truth is if it doesn't sell copies then they don't want to know. It would be nice to see journalism and writing taken to a creative form again supporting a far wider spectrum of musical releases and not just the next big thing or the flavour of the day.

TF: Which aspects of sound do you examine recently? Is for you important the impression that your music produces on the audience?

AnD: We are always trying to push ourselves to find new ways of working or new machines to create a different type of sound than we have made before. Its probably we just both get bored too quickly and we will write a batch of tracks in a certain style for a week or two and then move on again to something different again.

For us its very important that when we play our music has a connection with the crowd and we can see that its physically moving people on the floor. Go Hard Or Go Home! :)

TF: What do you think is the role of new technology in composing music? Do you rely more on digital or analog sound?

AnD: There are so many new technologies all of the time its very easy to get lost in it all. It always comes down to personal preference when it comes to work flow and what you use to achieve this. We like to work more on analog machines and then record into the computer. We find this is the easiest way of coming up with original ideas and not just repeating ourselves, recording the take live is never perfect but also add a lot of character to the sound.

TF: What’s your favourite track to play live and why?

AnD: We don't actually play our tracks live, we always have a live improvisation on stage. Again this allows us to be in the moment when we perform live. We don't have any idea of what will happen so we go with flow and keep things open so each live show is unique.

TF: Can you tell us more about ''AnD005'' and "? What does it bring to your work? What are the perspectives you want to explore through this?

AnD: Each AnD release always has a certain concept behind the sound for the ep. With 005 we wanted to have a big and bold rave sound that looked to the future. Not to just copy old sounds but to work out how to incorporate old sounds in new ways.

TF: What is the first synthesizer you have ever played? Do you have your favourite instruments or devices?

AnD: Our first synthesizers where the Korg MS20 and Korg Electribe EMX1 they both really good starting points. The electric was the first one with the valves and it had a good variety of distortion and saturation effects with it and with the valve on top it was a lot of fun. Also the ribbon strip was super easy to program arps and sequences on the fly. The Korg MS20 is one of the best mono synths ever, and has a wide palette of timbres. Plus the semi modular patching means its a beast you can program whatever type of sound you like, its a great synth to learn synthesis with.

TF: Our typical question ... any book or movie that you would like to recommend to the public to feed your creative side?

AnD: Yes one book that was very inspiring was "The KLF Chaos, Magic and The Band Who Burned A Million Pounds" by John Higgs.

A very interesting biography and look into the world of KLF concepts on dadaism, chaos theory, synchronicity, magic, punk, rave, the alchemic symbolism of Dr Who and the special power of the number 23.

TF: To say goodbye, what can you tell us about the mix you publish with us? Any experience during the creative process?

AnD: The podcast we have made for you is a representation of what we have been playing on the dance floor at the minute. A mixture of techno, rave and hardcore sounds with the AnD bump :) We hope you enjoy it!

TF: Thank you guys!

Tracklist:

Manu La Malin - Afrik 125Noisebuilder - DanceflowerAni & Unhuman - Five To NineWelt in Scherben - 1-2Jazmine Azarian - PenanceSomatic Responses - Distasm14anger - Mother Of The NullQuest?Onmarc - SpiralAneed - The FallenEdge Of Motion - Soul ApartPaula Temple - Joshua & Goliath (Ghost In The Machine Remix)Ayarcana - Sharp Objects{KRTM} & The Panacea - PQTmDY3xUhaSz3dBrecc - CripleD Carbone - Back To The Hardcore (14anger Remix)Danilo Incovaia - We´re Not Born FreeDiazepin - TerrorSour - 7Exsiderurgica - SquilibrioMab - BreliqueDj Balu & Begez - ExterminationSDBX - Stupid SuckerHigh Speed Violence - Ultraforce

source https://www.tforgotten.org/single-post/Podcast-191-AnD-Inner-Surface-Music-Interview