#nor do i assume they want all of humanity to be infected with a horrible virus

[river--ghost]

the unfortunate thing about billford being canonized is that all these antishippers are coming out of the woodworks again.

yall, it’s fiction. they’re allowed to be unhealthy. because they’re not real.

if it triggers you that much then block the tag and move on like an adult. ship and let ship, that’s like rule one of all fandom. it is not your divine duty to eradicate every part of fandom that you deem impure or unsavory.

[joelsmorality]

EYES WIDE OPEN [1]

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader, platonic bonding with Ellie.  Summary: Somehow, you managed to find Joel and Ellie ending their journey just as you were beginning your own. After being captured in David’s resort and witnessing the horrors within, Ellie manages to save your life as she escapes and you end up staying with them for the time being at Ellie’s offer. Yet, things aren’t as they seem, and you’re also not sure if her gruff guardian won’t murder you in your sleep.  Warnings: Gore, death, mentions of cannibalism, fire, angst. Please read at your own risk.  Note: I’ve had this idea kicking around in my head for a while, though I can’t say for certain it hasn’t been done before. Still, I thought I’d write it up and see if anybody is interested in it! If you want to be added to a tag list, please let me know!

Perhaps you should have been relieved that the attention had been shifted off you.

Yet, you just felt more dread.

Your whole world had shifted over the last day or so. Again. It had been bad enough when the initial outbreak began, yet you had foolishly assumed that the biggest threat out there was the infected. Humans could be just as cruel, if not moreso. You were paying for that oversight in the current moment, your stomach twisting each time when you would think deep enough to realize just how horrible of a situation you found yourself in. It had been enough to make you forget the exhaustion and hunger that had built up over the last day.

Hunger had been the issue that started all of this.

David–your deeply devout, fair, and kind leader–was a sick son of a bitch. You had seen his bad side a couple times over the years–asking too many questions, showing too much doubt, witnessing him laying a hand on people who spoke too far out of turn. Your opinion hadn’t always been the highest of him, but this was beyond anything you could have imagined him doing. Which was probably one of the many mistakes you had made.

You had come across his group as a loner–your family was either gone or missing, and you knew it was impossible to seek out anybody at this point. It had been nice in the beginning–you had shelter, food, people. You hadn’t been the most social, but it was better than trying to survive on your own. That was, until the hunger had set in. Tensions were high, you wanted to help and eventually you had found yourself digging into something you really shouldn’t have.

You were a loner, which made you easier to disappear.

The image of the bodies hanging in the dark with a nauseating similarity to a slaughterhouse sat at the edge of your mind, knowing that a similar fate awaited you.

Until Ellie.

At least, that was what you had heard her shout when she had broken David’s finger–she had a fight in her, which gave you some hope. Yet, you saw the spark in David, which was what had your stomach turning at his fascination toward her. You didn’t have any children of your own, nor any younger family that you had looked after, but witnessing the way he spoke to her made you wish you hadn’t been separated in two different cages so you could help her. Animals awaiting slaughter.

Yet, Ellie had that fight in her–something that had left you long before you found yourself in the situation you were. Yet, you knew patience would wear thin and there was only so much she could do until they got sick of her.

Given that you had been in there longer than her, you had only hoped that they’d take you out first. Give her the time and chance to escape. Her arrival had delayed your death, anyway.

Yet, you should have known that David would be playing by his own rules.

Sleep had escaped you since you had been captured, yet during the momentary quiet moments you had found yourself nodding off despite your efforts otherwise. You knew you wanted to be alert at all times, watching for ways to escape. Yet, you couldn’t focus. It felt like you had exhausted all your resources–you had kicked at the gate to your cage almost endlessly during the first day, hoping against hope that the lock would just break off and you’d be able to run. Yet, that went nowhere and just exhausted you further.

You refused to eat, too��knowing what they had been serving to the community, thinking it was deer or whatever meat they could hunt…despite your hunger, it only made you sick to think about.

Still, you knew, despite the lack of energy, that you would be up at any disturbance. At least, you had hoped.

In reality, your head had snapped up at Ellie’s yelling without knowing how long she had been doing so. You managed to sit up and crawl toward your own cell door as you watched David and James hoist her up onto the table. Given the blood you had seen on it, it didn’t take long for its use to click in your brain.

“Hey!” you shouted, finally finding your own voice, “She’s just a kid! Let her go! Let her go!”

It was useless, given Ellie’s own shouts and struggles. They carried on as if you weren’t in the room, as much as that realization didn’t really settle in you as you tried to throw your shoulder against the cage door in a feeble attempt to try to help her.

They were going to cut her up, and you would have to sit there and watch it. You were useless to help, as much as you didn’t want to believe that at the moment. Still, that was as clear as day as David finally raised his cleaver up. Yet, Ellie’s voice cut through the momentary silence in that action, her words making everybody in the room pause. Including you.

It took you a few moments to process that–infected? You had plenty of run-ins with infected on the road before you wound up where you were, and she certainly didn’t look and act like someone about to turn. From what you could see on the faces of David and James, you could see that same line of thought.

“Roll up my sleeve–look at it. Look at it!” Ellie insisted, you watching on with wide eyes.

After a few moments, David swung the knife down quickly. You heard it hit the table, the action and sound making you flinch as a sound caught in your throat. Yet, from Ellie still moving on the table, you could tell that he hadn’t killed her. Or hit her, given the silence. David pulled her sleeve up, pausing at what he saw that you couldn’t see from where you were on the floor across the room.

From the look on both his and James’ faces, you could tell whatever was on her arm was pretty convincing.

“What did you say?” Ellie said after a moment, you almost being unable to hear her. “Everything happens for a reason, right?”

“David…” James started, equally as quiet and disbelieving.

“No…” David said after another pause, shaking his head in denial. “No, she would’ve turned by now. This isn’t real.”

“That looks pretty fuckin’ real to me…”

The next several seconds seemed to pass in a blur for you. In their confusion and disbelief, Ellie took advantage of their hesitation to pull the knife by her head out of the table and swung it into the side of James’ neck. Ellie took off with David pulling out a pistol and shooting at her, firing off shots until you could hear the click, click of an empty chamber. He paused for a moment, looking around the room for a moment before he met your gaze.

He almost seemed to look through you, but you could see the darkness in his expression. You weren’t surprised when he pulled the knife from James’ neck and followed her out into the main area of the building.

And you were still in the damn cage.

With a grunt, you threw yourself against the door again–a sense of panic and urgency driving you to ignore the aches and bruises the force of that was going to give you. You did so over and over again, letting out short yells and what may have been sobs. As much as you were definitely hitting it with some force, the door still wouldn’t open. You had to break the lock, and as you were unarmed, you knew it wasn’t possible in your current situation.

Still, you didn’t want to give up. You continued to slam against the bars, not exactly knowing what was happening outside the room as you couldn’t really hear anything. You were focused on your attempts to escape, yet you could feel your legs starting to give out as that familiar exhaustion started to make itself known. After a few more slams with your shoulder, your knees buckled that had you grasping onto the bars to keep yourself from falling to the floor.

At that moment, you were suddenly aware of the smell of smoke. It had been lingering in your nostrils, yet at the moment you could really smell it. You could almost taste it. Whatever had happened outside that room, someone had set the building on fire.

And you were still locked in the damn cage.

You continued your struggles, pulling yourself upright again and started to shake and slam yourself against the door. Your eyes were starting to burn–from the smoke or unshed tears, you weren’t sure. Yet, you had to stop again after a short while as you coughed, the smoke significant enough to shake reality into you for a few moments.

Gripping the bars on the cage door, you shook it hard with a yell that burned your throat. Fear, anger, and disbelief swirling in your gut as you continue to yell.

“Help me!” you screamed, “Please! I–I don’t…I don’t want to die like this…”

Your voice had faltered at the end, realizing how smoking the room had gotten. It was…unsettlingly quiet, aside from your shaky breathing and the coughs that would force their way out of your lungs as you struggled against the smoke that burned at the back of your throat. The fight was starting to leave you, ripping an angry sob from you as you kicked uselessly against the door before backing against the wall.

Another cough hit you, mixing with the sobs that you were already letting out. If you didn’t burn to death first, the smoke would suffocate you. You didn’t know which was worse.

Seconds seemed to drag by, the hopelessness of the situation almost making you collapse onto the floor. Yet, you heard the door to the room open. You glanced up to see someone step in, making their way toward your cage. You stilled, recognition taking a moment to settle before you realized the person in front of you was Ellie.

She looked rough–hair a mess, a haunted look on her face, and she was covered in blood. You had no idea what happened when she left the room, and you didn’t really have the words to say anything. The fact that she was still standing told enough of a story at the moment. She set about releasing the lock from the door to your cage, knowing where she got the keys from but you didn’t want to say anything. Didn’t need to.

Considering the look Ellie gave you before giving you a wordless nod, it seemed you both were in agreement to just get the hell out.

You followed after her, realizing that the building really was on fire as the smoke in the main area nearly choked you. Letting out a heavy cough, you covered your mouth with your arm as you weaved through the booths and tables toward the doors. Your eyes stung, the smoke you had already inhaled making it a struggle to breathe in the thicker air. Still, you were almost out.

You noticed a flash of white, daylight through the haze of smoke ahead of you. Mindlessly, you followed that, even after the door shut behind Ellie. Finally, you reached it and pushed it open.

The cold, winter air hit you as you stepped out. You stumbled a few steps in the snow before a series of coughs hit you, making you double over as your lungs struggled to get in fresh air. Dizziness wrapped around you for a few moments, though Ellie’s shouting pulled you out of it after a few moments.

Someone was holding onto her as she screamed for them to let her go, which made you stagger forward a couple steps until she stopped. Ellie let the man pull her into an embrace, which made your steps slow before you stopped a safe distance from them.

If you weren’t still struggling to wrap your head around the last hour, you would have probably felt awkward lingering in the background of a private moment.

The resort was oddly quiet, outside of the wind and the faint creaking of the building that was currently burning down. The group wasn’t huge, but you figured there would be people rushing about to stop that. Something had happened, something you weren’t around to witness, but you realized that your time there was done. In that moment, you let out another dry cough, finally starting to feel like you could breathe a little easier.

The sound pulled Ellie and the man out of their moment, however, the look on the man’s face gave you pause. Clearing your throat, you raised your free hand up in a quiet show of peace. For some reason, you hadn’t found your voice again after the shouting you had done.

Everything was happening so quickly…

“It’s–It’s okay, Joel. She was with me when…” Ellie said after a few moments, still holding onto the arm of the man–Joel–as he stared you down. From the look on his face, you had a feeling that if you made a wrong move, he’d charge.

Given everything that happened, you couldn’t blame him. Still, you remained where you were, watching him carefully.

Finally, your gaze shifted toward Ellie as you cleared your throat.

“Thank you…” you said slowly, voice rough, “For saving me. I have…nothing to repay you, but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ellie said, sounding almost as reluctant to speak as you were.

You knew you should just nod and move on. Gather some supplies and head out again–yet, you were exhausted and had nowhere to go. Had no idea where to even start. Still, you said your thanks and you knew you should just leave before you press your luck. You had more than enough.

You remained, however, Ellie and Joel watching you in silence for a few moments as you did the same. Your legs were rooted to the spot, a heavy feeling in your gut. You were scared–more so than you had been in years. Just turn around and…

“You have nowhere else to go, do you?” Ellie asked, pulling you out of your head.

“...I definitely can’t stay here,” you replied–she was right, though, even if you didn’t want to admit it. This had been your group. Until…well.

“Come with us,” Ellie offered, making your brow furrow somewhat.

“Ellie,” Joel hissed, the warning clear in his tone. 

You had an idea on what Ellie could do, but you didn’t know what to make of him. For now, you wanted to avoid pissing him off. You had enough abuse over the last couple of days.

“Just until you can find a place,” Ellie continued, meeting your gaze despite Joel’s protest. “Right?”

“I…I won’t overstay my welcome, if I can,” you said, finally relenting to the silent plea of help that you weren’t even aware you were making, “Until I find people. I would…be really grateful for that. You’ve done more than enough already.”

Ellie and Joel shared a quiet moment, something silent there but it seemed like he relented. With much reluctance, given his body language. Still, he wrapped an arm around Ellie to help lead her forward, the girl casting you a look over her shoulder with a tight grin. There was a pain in her eyes that you could easily read. It pulled at the feeling in you over this whole situation, but you had no idea what happened between her and David. Outside from the fact that he was dead.

Still, you supposed that was your queue to follow. It took a few moments before you managed to follow after them with unsteady steps.

You didn’t know how this would play out, but at the moment you were just relieved to leave.

[erimeows]

How do you think Megatron would react when he finally admits to himself he has feelings for an organic?

Man, I love writing Megatron in love. Headcanons/scenario below the cut, thanks for the request; enjoy!

I feel like Megatron would try to ignore it at first, just like he would with feelings for another Cybertronian, but much, much worse.

Organic aside, relationships aren’t really something he believes are meant for him. He’s a Decepticon leader, he can’t show weakness, and if he dares to get close to someone, there’s a good chance that they could be used against him. So generally speaking, he keeps his distance.

But then you come along.

You have a bad interaction with the Autobots; one of them accidentally wrecks your house in a battle and offers you no compensation or even another place to say, only apologizing before running off, so you do some research on Cybertronians, find out about the Decepticons, and somehow do enough digging to find their base.

Megatron is shocked when you show up one day and pledge your allegiance to him and to the Decepticon cause, but when you explain your reasoning, he can tell that you’re genuine; Autobots are martyr-complex-having, inconsiderate fools who do what they can to look good and act like they’re doing ‘right’, their council is a bunch of stuck up pricks who don’t allow anyone to be an individual or have freedom, and they all act like they’re a working part of a system instead of their own mech/femme with an actual personality. Megatron is kinda like... yeah, okay, whatever. He almost tries to blow you off, but Shockwave and Soundwave argue that you could reveal some weaknesses that the humans have and that you’re an unthreatening enough figure that you could be used as a productive spy. So, he keeps you around and gives you a place to stay on base.

At first, he acts indifferent towards you; you’re a gross, human fleshbag that he wants nothing to do with outside of work, but he sees that you and Soundwave get along since you share a lot of the same ideals about humans needing to do their own work instead of relying on robots to do it for them, and you and Shockwave are actually quite friendly. Hell, you and Lugnut and Blitzwing even make a great trio. So, indirectly, without even realizing it at first, Megatron becomes fond of you through observing your conversations with the others. You’re respectable, brave, bold, honest, and you’re fully self-aware. He finds that, unlike the other humans, he doesn’t mind you; you don’t see him or his cause as evil and actually treat him with respect, and you don’t run or cower or act shy around him either- that shit gets on his nerves.

He knows it’s a bad idea, but he starts talking to you personally. In his berth room, you two exchange intel you’ve collected, and afterwards, you always hang around for an hour or so for in-depth discussions, about your lives and dreams and hopes and philosophies. He frequently finds himself sharing ancient data tablets containing Decepticon works of literature on them with you, and eventually, the two of you have/develop a lot in common.

Not all humans are gross like he thought they were initially, he realizes... In fact, though he’d never say so out loud, you smell nice and the few fleeting touches he’s had with you are always pleasant because of how warm and soft you are.

The first time he thinks about the rapid pace of the relationship the two of you have cultivated and about his feelings for you is after you’re injured. Your cover as a spy gets blown and surprisingly enough, you mention to escape Optimus Prime and the other four members of his team, but you come back sustaining some rough cuts/gashes from when Prowl chucked his shuriken at your clothes to try to pin you to the wall with them; they’re all along your arms, legs, and a few even managed to graze your sides.

You return to the base bloodied and beaten from their attempts to detain you, and though Soundwave and Shockwave (who are easily your best friends at that point) insist that they’re fully capable of handling your medical care, Megatron realizes that he wants to do it himself- doesn’t know why he wants to do it, just knows that he does and that no one is going to stop him. So, he takes you to the med bay and uses the small amount of human medical equipment they obtained for you to disinfect your wounds as you walk him through the process verbally, stitches the ones that need stitching, and wraps/bandages them. It involves you being half-clothed, and though he certainly isn’t going to ogle you like a pervert, he can’t help how his intake hitches at being so close to you when you’re so exposed and vulnerable. It just feels very intimate, and it’s something he’s not used to; no one has dared touch him in thousands of years outside of battle, nor has he touched another outside of such context.

You have to stay in the med bay overnight so that your vitals can be monitored and you can have your dressings changed and antibiotics given to you to prevent your wounds from getting infected. Megatron is also sure to give you painkillers if you need them and keep you well-fed/hydrated so you can heal properly.

He stays by your side while you sleep even though he doesn’t need to, watching you. He can’t help but think about how fascinating it is that your body is so fragile, so prone to bloody injuries when even slightly harmed, but you’re so strong and determined and courageous; completely dedicating yourself to his work, his cause, him when you didn’t have to. Part of that was out of your spite and dislike for the Autobots, but he admired that, too. You uprooted your entire life to come help him and the Decepticons, and even though he didn’t dare say something so kind out loud, he couldn’t help but appreciate you. Him taking care of you was just paying it forward.

You sleep peacefully, chest rising and falling with every breath you take and (s/c) cheeks dusted red. Occasionally, you’ll toss and turn, but at one point, you reach out for his servo in your sleep, so he takes your hand and holds it tight. If anyone ever saw him so tender and weak, he’d be done for, but you were asleep, so he figured it was fine- no one needed to know how much he loved you, not even you.

Oh.

Oh no. He loved you. As fate would have it, it all crashed down on him at once as he sat there, holding your hand. He had gone from assuming you were some disgusting human bag of flesh he wanted nothing to do with, to begrudgingly accepting you to help his cause, to respecting you, to befriending you, to... Falling in love with you. What terrible luck... Maybe it was his punishment for terrorizing organics for so many years, that he just so happened to fall in love with one.

The second he realizes it, he can’t deny it. You recover from your injuries well with Megatron by your side assisting you, but the more time he spends around you, the worse his feelings get, and he’s old enough that he’s not the kind of fool who pushes his feelings away. Instead, he wallows in them, bathes in them, drowns in them, and he drowns in you. It’s really horrible that he, a being so large and powerful and responsible for mass destruction, is so enamored with you, a being so small and delicate and honest. You’re an unfortunate soul, and if you love him back, it’s even worse.

It comes out naturally one of the nights that you’re locked up in his room together discussing some Decepticon poetry you read recently. It was one of his favorite works, and you seemed like you’d enjoyed it, too. Silence falls between you for a moment before he says, “I love you, (y/n). I never thought I’d stoop as low as to fall for an organic, but you’re the only one worth falling for, and Primus, have I fallen.”. The atmosphere doesn’t go tense or awkward, and you only smile up at him, putting the data tablet with the poem on it down on his night table before turning to him.

“And I thought I’d never fall for the leader of an alien robot rebellion, but here I am, and you’re worth falling for, too.”

It’s peaceful, nothing heated or tense but tender and relaxing as he pulls you into his arms and holds you close to him... Maybe being in love with an organic wasn’t so bad, after all.

[rotworld]

22: Zombie

a mysterious infection spreads across the globe and completely redefines what it means to be human.

->explicit. contains gore/decaying bodies, dehumanization, feral behavior, pack dynamics, hard noncon, exhibitionism/voyeurism, collaring.

.

.

.

A new colony moves in. You know because of the noises at night, the shrieks, the snarls and howling. Like wolves or mountain lions, like things hunting and dying. The territorial dispute goes on for days and frays your already rattled nerves. You stay close to the house and don’t go out after dark. Late at night when you can’t sleep, you see silhouettes shambling around in the yard. They rummage through your compost heap. Sometimes large, rot-discolored hands will press against your windows and you’ll hold absolutely still as foggy corpse eyes peer through the glass, looking for a way in.

You miss Andy. Thinking about him makes your chest tighten, your breathing quicken and your heart ache. Cute, soft-spoken Andy with his curly brown hair and the freckles across the bridge of his nose. He’d sit with you on nights like this, when you were too scared to sleep. He always knew what to say. “They’re still people,” he’d tell you, rubbing little reassuring circles into the back of your hand. “The infection affects metabolism and impulse control, but they’re as human as you and me. They want to be safe, and comfortable, and loved.” 

A long, low growl comes from the back door and you hear footsteps all around the house, converging behind the house. The colony progenitor, you assume. You see five, maybe six of them out there, examining the chicken coop. They fiddle with the doors until they get it open. Your oldest hen, Berta, comes flapping out with an indignant squawk and struts around, pecking their ankles. It’s almost cute, watching them watch her. Like children seeing a small animal for the first time, they want to pick her up, passing her around to stroke her feathers and pet her head. Their silhouettes are masculine, thick and broad-shouldered.

“Zombie is a bit of a misnomer,” Andy told you once. “They’re not dead. They’re actually a lot more durable than us. The infection is parasitic, and it requires a massive caloric intake to coexist peacefully with the hostbody. Necrosis is a sign of starvation, but they can recover from extreme tissue damage as long as they meet their nutritional needs.” It’s hard to make out in the dark, but this colony seems neither well-fed nor on the brink of starvation. Most of them have some rot, blackened fingers, missing noses, unraveling cheeks and lips, but you’ve seen far worse. A lot of them are heavily bandaged, stitches circling wrists and biceps. Someone in the colony must have had medical training in their past life.

Eventually, they put Berta back in the coop and close it up behind her. There’s another growl from the progenitor and the colony leaves, climbing easily over the fence meant to keep them out and disappearing into the woods. You let out the breath you were holding. You’ll have to make a note of this. Andy always kept track of colony movements and individual members. You still have all of his old legal pads, stuffed into shelves and cupboards. It’s a struggle to keep your tears off of them, reading over his old observations written in tiny, barely legible scribbles.

The yellow paper with his final few entries, dated a little over a year ago, was ripped out and waiting for you on the kitchen counter one day. The very last one read, “Bitten by colony matriarch. Can’t risk staying. I’m sorry. I love you.” He was already gone. You curled up on the floor, crumpled paper in your hands, and cried through the night. You were afraid of going through this new, horrible world all alone. More than that, you were afraid of Andy doing the same thing. Fun, silly, gentle Andy would never survive out there. Zombies eat their weak. Colonies tear each other limb from limb over resources and territory. You blamed yourself when there was nothing you could’ve done. You were immune. Andy knew that. 

He also knew he’d probably tear your throat out with his teeth once he was fully infected, too hungry to stop himself.

There’s more fighting that night, more vicious than before. Something snaps and squelches dangerously close to the house, a death rattling echoing through your head. You give up on trying to sleep with the horrible, inhuman sounds filling the woods, sitting at the table by candlelight. You review some of Andy’s older notes, ones that don’t provoke such a gutwrenching feeling. Colony transitions are a time of heightened aggression. Skirmishes may be brief and infrequent, or prolonged and constant, and will last until one group succumbs or is pushed out of the area. The death of the progenitor often ends a territory dispute.

A particularly awful noise makes you shoot up from your seat. Something is screaming, and the screaming is getting closer. You grab the baseball bat you keep in the kitchen, more for peace of mind than anything. There’s no reason for any of them to try getting inside. But you hear a heavy dragging, the sounds of something coming up the dirt path to your front door. You hear that same vicious growling from before; the progenitor of the new colony. A wretched sound—a thin, reedy wail that turns to gurgling as something fleshy stretches, slips, and shreds apart—reaches your ears. There’s a thump, deadweight hitting the ground, and then silence. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. 

The progenitor makes a rumbling growl and the rest of the colony joins in, like wolves howling. You creep down the hall to the front door. Through the windows, you can see the newcomers standing in the yard. They’re not scattering like they usually do after a fight. They’re not regrouping, not falling back to the woods. The dispute is over, you realize. That limp mass on your doorstep is the body of the old colony’s progenitor, and that round, stringy-haired mass sticking on one fence post is its head. This territory, and everything in it, is theirs now.

There’s a grunt, a short, snorting sound from the progenitor, and then the whole colony stares at the house. Right at you. You flinch back, your muscles seizing up in fight-or-flight, your brain several steps ahead of your body thinking about where the rest of the weapons are in the house, the fastest route to the basement, how quickly you can barricade yourself in. It all stops when you hear a sound you haven’t in a very long time. A voice. Words you understand. Someone speaking to you. 

“Don’t be scared.” 

It’s muffled through the door. One of them comes up the front steps slowly. You can guess that it’s the progenitor from the way the others fall in behind it, closing in on the house. It sounds like a man, like a regular human man, just a little lower, more growling and hoarse. It sounds familiar in a way that makes your heart lurch but you refuse to get your hopes up now. It can’t be him. Andy was tall, but not this tall, not nearly as tall as your door. He didn’t have thick, muscular arms like that. But the “what if” hangs tantalizingly in the air the longer you peer out at the zombie on your doorstep.

“Don’t be scared,” he repeats. “We won’t hurt you.” 

You swallow hard, still gripping the bat. Andy told you they could speak, but they usually don’t. Communication within colonies is mostly made up of growls and pheromone cues. Hearing it is startling. “What do you want?” you call through the door. Your own voice is hoarse and ragged. How long has it been since you spoke to someone? (Almost a year, you think. You talk to Berta and the other chickens sometimes, but it’s turned to mumbles, little animal noises. It’s been almost a year since Andy left.)

“We want to come inside.”

Your eyes flick down to the locks on the front door. It’s enough to deter a lone zombie stumbling around in search of food, but can it keep out a determined progenitor and his whole colony? You don’t know. You hoped you’d never have to put it to the test. “You can’t come in,” you say, trying to sound firm. 

“We can,” the progenitor says with eerie calm. “Will you let us in, or will we have to break down the door?” 

Don’t panic, you tell yourself. Andy said they can smell panic. “Why do you want to come inside?” you ask, stalling for time. You glance around. You could barricade the door, but it might not be worth it, and it’d waste precious time you could spend fortifying your defenses in the basement. But can you even get there before they get inside the house? “I’m immune. You can’t infect me. I don’t have anything you’d want.” 

The progenitor makes a slight movement, something you almost miss, but it makes the colony disperse. Your heart hammers in your chest as you hear them going around the back of the house. You see one out of the corner of your eye by the window in the hallway. You take a step back. “It’s you we want,” the progenitor growls. The words are a signal, the entire colony howling and slamming themselves against the house, shattering windows, smashing locks. As you turn on your heel, running for the basement, you hear the front door turn to splinters. The progenitor’s heavy, sprinting steps catch up to you too quickly. He’s faster, takes corners more tightly, leaps over furniture in his way.

He catches you by the neck, his large hand snagging you like a cat by the scruff. His fingers circle all the way around your throat. You come to a sudden halt, feet lifting off the ground as he holds you up to assess. You squirm and scratch at him to no avail, tugging desperately on the fingers wrapped around your throat. The rest of the colony fills the room, surrounding you and tears burn in your eyes. The progenitor leans in, sniffing your neck. His tongue drags along your jaw, tasting your sweat and fear. You’re going to die. They’re going to rip you apart and eat you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“It’s really you,” the progenitor says quietly. 

His voice cuts through your terror, because you know it. You’d know it anywhere. When he speaks softly like that, his humanity comes through loud and clear. In the dim, flickering candlelight, you take your first good look at him. The same curly, dark hair. The same freckles dusting his nose and cheeks. He’s bigger, taller and wider than he ever was before, his new diet and the extreme body-altering properties of the infection changing him, but it’s him. You look in his gray, cloudy eyes and you know.

“Andy,” you whisper. He sets you back down. You collapse against the wall behind you, sinking to your knees. Andy follows, crouching beside you. “I didn’t...I thought…” You swallow a whimper. “You’re alive.” He runs his bandaged hand through your hair.

Andy’s skin has taken on a purplish hue, mottled and bruise-like. He wears a plain black t-shirt, the same one he was wearing the day he left, but it looks shrunken and tight on his larger body. His jeans are ragged with holes at the knees. Andy’s face is split in half by a curling line of stitches, descending from his scalp, across his nose, curling beneath an eye patch on his right side. That eye must be missing. The flesh of one cheek is stringy and torn, exposing his jaw and several teeth. Shakily, in disbelief, you touch his face and he makes a rumbling sound, nuzzling against your palm.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. He urges you to lean against him, resting your head against your shoulder as he strokes your back. “Never wanted to leave you, but I couldn’t risk it. Had to wait until I had it under control. God, I was so hungry when it kicked in. I ate and I ate and I ate, but the hunger never went away. It was like that for months. Just eating everything I saw. It was hell.” You relax into him, shutting your eyes as the last year of fear and solitude finally catches up with you. Andy presses a kiss to the top of your head. You feel him shifting, rummaging through his pockets before he finds what he’s looking for. You don’t worry about it until you feel something wrapping around your neck. 

“Andy?” you say, anxiety creeping into your voice. He makes a growling sound when you try to pull away, yanking you closer. It’s leather, a thin strip fitting around your neck like a collar and attached with a fastener on the back. “Andy, what—?”

“Don’t be scared,” Andy murmurs. His fingers graze your skin and he’s warmer than you expected, almost uncomfortably hot. It’s the infection, the constant breakdown and repair of muscle tissue, the rot and resuscitation. “There we go. Nice and snug. Not too tight, yeah?” Dread creeps up your spine as Andy lets go of you, towering over you with the rest of his colony. He caresses your cheek, his gaze wandering shamelessly over your body. “We’ve got a lot of work to do,” he says, the growl returning to his voice as he addresses his colony. “Every entrance needs to be secured. No one but us gets in and out of here. We’ll work out a patrol schedule after we mark the edge of the territory.” 

“And the immune?” one of them says, nodding to you. “They’re panicking. You got them handled?” You find yourself trembling, burying your face in the side of Andy’s legs in desperation. You just want something familiar, something to ground you and keep you from screaming.

“Yeah,” Andy says quietly, gazing down at you. That’s how he used to look at you, with all that warmth and adoration. His eyes are different but it’s the same gaze. It makes things better, and so much worse. He slowly unwraps the bandages, exposing even more stitches, even more thin patches of skin. You see exposed muscle and bone below one elbow. His fingers are black up to the knuckles. He touches the edge of the collar, testing the give, unable to slip his whole thumb underneath before it tugs too hard and makes you whine. In front of the whole colony, he unzips his fly and pulls out his cock, the same flushed, bruised shade as the rest of him. You inhale shakily and scoot back, but you just hit one of the others’ legs. They shove you forward, back into Andy. 

“It’s scared,” one of them murmurs. “Smells so good.” 

“Scared, but quiet. Is something wrong with it?” another asks, nudging you with his foot. “I thought the immune screamed a lot.” 

“Nah, it knew the progenitor in his last life. It already knows proper respect.” 

You can’t take your eyes off of Andy. He steps forward and the two of you are surrounded by the colony, caged in by their bodies. Andy smiles, cupping your chin. He pumps his cock with his other hand, alternating between long strokes and twisting his palm over his tip. He hardens slowly, getting even longer and thicker under his fingers. You whimper when his hand tangles in your hair, pushing the back of your head into his hips. He rubs his cocks over your lips. “Open up,” he says, his voice soft and teasing. You don’t want to. You’re afraid. You don’t understand what’s happening. Is this really Andy? 

His colony is watching, licking their lips, some of them palming their crotches or taking out their cocks to get off. Your face heats with shame. You don’t want to look at them, but Andy’s cock presses more insistently against your mouth and he’s starting to pant, his grip on your hair tightening. He doesn’t let your gaze wander anymore, tugging you back to him whenever you glance elsewhere.

“Come on, immune. Open that pretty little mouth,” one of them jeers. “Progenitor’s gotta mark you. You don’t wanna get taken by another colony, do you?” 

“It’s just sitting there,” another says, sounding frustrated. 

“It doesn’t know any better. The progenitor will teach it proper manners.” 

Waves of nausea wash over you with their every word. You’re human, you want to scream. You don’t want this. Andy grips your jaw, forcing your mouth open. “I know you’re scared,” he coos, like you’re an animal, a skittish deer he wants to lure closer. “It’s alright. Not gonna hurt you. Open for me. I’ll make it quick, I promise.” You can hear your own pounding heartbeat and slick, obscene noises all around you. The rest of the colony is jerking off, some slow, drawing it out, others fucking their fists, hips bucking, staring at you with blown pupils.

Andy holds your head with both hands, forcing your jaw open. You flail, hands scrabbling over his thighs, but he’s stronger than you. He ignores all of your clawing and scratching. A low hiss comes out when your fingers snag on the stitches along his inner thigh and the sound scares you, makes you go still. It’s all he needs to force himself inside. You struggle, hands on his hips, as he sinks all the way in with one long thrust.

“There we go,” he praises you, stroking your hair. “That’s good. Just like that.” It’s too much. He’s huge, your jaw is aching, his tip is bumping the back of your throat and you can’t breathe. You pull apart a line of stitches and Andy oozes dead, coagulated blood, hotter than it should be as it pours over your hand. He doesn’t seem to notice or care, too enraptured by the heat of your mouth around him. He holds your head in place and starts to move slowly, a gentle easing in and out that lets you adjust. “We’re gonna take such good care of you.” 

“Fuck yeah we are,” one of them groans, stroking himself faster. “Cute little thing like you, you’re gonna be full all the time.” 

“The immune aren’t toys,” another scolds, but he’s just as breathless and excited. All of his fingers are ringed by stitches, a long, meandering line all the way up to elbow. “They don’t heal like we do. They need less food, but more sleep and sunlight. They’re easy to break.” 

“I wouldn’t break it, progenitor!” a different one insists. “I’d be careful. I could take it on walks and everything.” 

Andy lets out a rumbling growl that quiets the entire colony. “The immune is mine,” he hisses. “The rest of you will have to prove yourselves.” He grabs your head with both hands, his rotting fingers digging into your scalp and bringing you into a hard, forward thrusts that bruises your throat. The pain and the horror all mixes together into an overwhelming malaise and euphoria. It’s Andy. Your Andy. He came back for you. You won’t be alone anymore. You relax your jaw. You give into the desperate hope clawing its way back from the dead within you.

“Yes, progenitor,” the others mutter, disappointed but no less enthusiastic. You feel their gazes burning into you, hear them pleasuring themselves. The first one to finish groans, angling his cock so his cum drizzles over your back. You whimper in displeasure, trying to arch away from him, but that just pushes you further into Andy. He grits his teeth. You can see them grinding together though the hollow spot in his cheek, the slide of tendon and tissue. He slams into you again, makes you choke and gurgle around his cock. His balls slap your chin. 

“I have so much to teach you,” Andy says, gazing down at you with nothing but love in his eyes. “The world’s not like I thought it was. I have to protect you.” His hips stutter as he brings you in close, nose nestled against his feverish skin. He holds you there, chokes you with his cock as he curses under his breath and fucks your throat. You tremble in his grasp. The sounds of the colony’s pleasure, their growls and moans, their frenzied strokes, the cum squirting all over you, dampening your clothes, is too much. 

“I love you,” Andy whispers, sounding just as you remember him. He cums and it’s more than you can take. He pumps himself into your mouth twice and then pulls out, covering your face, your neck and your chest. You feel woozy, sick with fear, drowning in fever dreams. This can’t be real. You’re asleep. You hit your head on something. You slump against Andy’s legs, clinging to him. He makes a low sound, half hum and half growl, that soothes you despite its strangeness. The colony splits up at his order, a quiet growl and a nod, leaving the two of you alone. 

“Everything’s going to be okay now,” he tells you, smiling gently as he wipes his cum away from your eyes. He rubs it into your skin. You feel disgusting and used, but you let him do it. You shiver and let the tears come. Andy holds you just like he used to, rocking gently, whispering little reassurances. Everything is just like it used to be, and a terrible nightmare.

[lovingzombiechaos]

A Girl Named Man

AO3 Link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27404203/chapters/66978391

I’m really excited to present to you my newest work of fiction, based on the early access version of Baldur’s Gate 3. I’ve been playing D&D for about 6 years, and after buying this game for my spouse, I fell in love with it. And I’ve had so many ideas. So, here they are! Explicit, as always. Word count: over 4k. A jolt of lightning shot up my spine as it connected with the beach. Splayed out on the ground, I barely registered the debris thudding all around me. Indeed, the only thumping I registered was the not so steady rhythm of my heart in my chest and ears. By some miracle of the gods, I was alive. And mostly unhurt. I could wiggle my toes. I could grab handfuls of sand. I could breathe, though my lungs were on fire. I lied there gasping for air, eyes staring wildly into the vivid blue sky. 

The kind of blue that was too blue to be real. The kind that made your eyes ache.

Eyes. I covered my own with the heels of my hands, pressing into my skull. As if that would crush the mindflayer spawn lurking in my head. My cheek thrummed at the pressure and I tenderly reached out to feel where the rock had hit me. 

Swollen, I thought as I prodded the cheek, but not broken. One less thing to deal with.

I let out a shaky breath, followed by a half-hysterical laugh. This was fine. Completely fine. Who cared about the mindflayer parasite in my brain? I was alive. Here on the banks of the Chionthar, I hoped. Alive with a tadpole in my brain.

Another laugh escaped me and I clapped my hand over my mouth.

“It’s okay, Dir,” I whispered to myself, my hot breath flitting over my face, “you’re alive. In one piece. You need to get up and function.”

Words I had told myself every day for the past thirteen years. Why would today be any different?

It was tempting to just lie here, in the warm sun and let go. So easy to just let myself drift away. If I rolled over, I could be in the river and it wouldn’t take long at all. And then I would see Jamie again.

But it was for Jamie that I had to go on. That was what got me out of bed in the morning. The idea that I was wasting away my life, when he couldn’t live his. And that is what gave me the resolve to push myself up into a sitting position. My love for him.

The hilt of my longsword poked me in the side. At least I hadn’t lost that. I had lost everything else, including my spellbook and the locket given to me by Aislinn. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, feeling naked and vulnerable. Like I was being watched. Aislinn was going to murder me.

I couldn’t think about that just yet. I needed to gather my wits about me, figure out where I was. I skimmed my fingers over the hilt as I surveyed the immediate area, taking note of the rocky wall behind me, the river to my right and the remains of the ship, flaming hot, a few yards away, half in the water and several dead bodies spread along the beach.

I rose to my feet, brushing the sand from my legs and fluffing it out of my hair. Great, I’d be emptying sand from every crevice of my body for the next month. As much as I wanted to push forward, the dead bodies gave me pause. I’d seen plenty of the dead laying in gentle repose, but never like this. Never seen them with their unseeing eyes staring up at the sky, their mouths agape and jaws twisted. Had never seen limbs form into such jagged lines. The terrible thought of Jamie laying this way made me physically recoil. It was a visceral, horrifying sight. I closed my eyes, the better to block out that horrible image. It was enough to make me want to cry.

Despite the carnage on the beach, and the horror in my mind, my stomach growled and gurgled. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. Certainly not on the ship.

It was the hunger that forced one foot in front of the other, until I found myself on my knees next to one of the dead bodies. I hesitated, but only for a moment. It was just a dead body. Nothing more. Nor did he have need for anything on his person.

I fished out a few gold coins, some line, a small vial of some sort. No food. I pocketed the coins and the vial and moved to the next body. More coins, more line, bait, a dagger. And an apple. I gasped and then looked over my shoulder. Nothing there.

It was a nasty, bruised apple, the kind I would have turned my nose up at had it been served to me. But gods be damned, it was the best damned apple I’d ever eaten. I ate it all the way down to the core, the juices dripping down my chin. One belch and a sigh of relief later I tossed the remainder of the apple into the river. I glanced back over my shoulder again, a wave of guilt coursing through me.

They were dead and I was alive. Though if I didn’t find a healer, I was royally fucked. And unless I had supplies, I would not be able to find a healer. This was not the time to contemplate the morals of supposedly robbing dead men. Not when I was so close to death myself. Or rather, a death of the self. The thing I was infected with would turn me into a mindflayer. An ugly, gray tentacled mind flayer. With no mind of my own, no action of my own. I reached for my locket. Still gone. I let my arm flop uselessly to my side and blew the stray strands of hair from my face. Standing here was getting me nowhere, and fast.

I pushed onward, clutching the rocky wall as I carefully stepped around the dead bodies of three young men. They must have been fishing at the time of the crash. Bad luck.

Though, I wondered what killed them. I stopped and turned back to look at them with a frown on my face. There was no debris around. That was…odd. I squatted down and examined the face of an elf, staring at the big lash across his neck. It wasn’t a knifes doing, though. A knife didn’t make singe marks in the wound. And a knife that deep in the throat would mean more blood. The wound was cauterized. What?

Looking about, I saw no one save the bodies and the only footprints I could make out were my own and theirs. The beach was eerily quiet save for sounds of water. I was alone, and yet I felt watched, by someone, something.

I stood up and shook my head. Aislinn’s paranoia was getting to me now. 

Whatever killed those men were long since gone.

I went to reach for the locket again and cursed when I remembered I still didn’t have it. I needed to stop faffing around and get going.

I left the three dead sailors behind.After an hour of walking and glancing back over my shoulder, I came across a tall, raven haired woman, standing at what looked to be an entrance of a temple. Littered all around her were the bodies of those brain…things.  

She swung her bloodied mace, hitting the door repeatedly, but it wouldn’t budge. “Blasted door!”

I strode towards her before hesitating. I’d just assumed she was friendly. There was no guarantee. I lay my hand on the hilt of the sword, just in case, and cleared my throat.

She whirled around, green eyes staring wildly as she leveled her mace at me. 

“Stop! Not another step or I’ll…”

The anger melted from her face, replaced with recognition. “Wait…it’s you. You tried to save me on the ship. At least, you made the effort.”

It was her, the half-elven woman I’d found on the ship. Some of the tension left my body and I took a step towards her. My head began to pound, stopping me in my tracks. From far away, she cried out and our minds touched. I felt her anger, her resolve and her gratitude.

It was over just as soon as it had begun and it left me reeling.

“What the bloody hells? It must be the mind flayer tadpole. It connected us somehow.”

I rubbed my temples. “We need a healer.”

She nodded and gestured to the door behind us. “Been trying to get through for the past hour. But I’ve barely made a dent in it so far.”

I stepped back to take in the door. Whatever the temple was, it was built directly into the rocky cliffs. With a closer look, I decided that it probably wasn’t the front of the temple at all, but a secondary entry.

“There’s probably another way in.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Up the cliff there,” she waved her mace towards the cliff. “Though, I don’t know if we’ll find a healer there. Or anywhere in this wilderness.”

“All we can do is try,” I said, eyeing the path. I could see smoke curling up the end of the pathway. More parts of the ship. Lovely.

“You can call me Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart? Well, I wasn’t the one to judge names. I licked my lips and regarded her for a moment. If I told her my name, I knew exactly what words would come out of her mouth. Ah, well, I’d heard worse, and from people better loved than her.

“I’m Dir. Shall we head on?”

Shadowheart did not disappoint. “Dir? As in the elven word for man?”

I wanted to roll my eyes at her. Instead I plastered what I hoped to be a serene smile on my face. “Yes.”

“Your parents must have hated you,” she said with a small smirk as she lead the way up the path.

I followed, climbing the steep slope. “My parents wanted a boy. By the time I was born, my mother was rather stuck on the name.”

“Even for a boy that name is…odd. A human boy called man. Unless, it’s short for something. Is it?”

“Yes.” But I wasn’t going to give her even more ammunition.

She paused, one foot hovering above the entrance to the ship and half turned towards me. Poised and waiting. I knew better than to engage.

Instead I stopped short and took in the mass of writhing purple in front of me. 

Shadowheart’s gaze followed mine back to the ship. It didn’t look nearly as elegant laying in pieces on the ground, a flaming mass of former glory. My stomach lurched, the apple nearly making a reappearance.

“Not so impressive now, are you?” Shadowheart practically snarled, echoing my sentiments.

We marveled at the havoc and wreakage around us and an unearthly cry filled the former helm. The hairs on my arms stood up and my toes curled in their boots. I clasped the hilt of the sword strapped to my hip, drawing it slowly with silent intent.

Shadowheart lifted her shield and gripped her mace. “There!”

An intellect devourer. A walking abomination of a former brain. They had been on the ship. They were the ones calling for me to release them. They had been the ones to kill those sailors.

“Stay back, one strike could be lethal,” Shadowheart said to me over her shoulder as she inched forward, mace at the ready.

To my left another one came from the shadows. A third screamed from above and landed on the flooring between myself and Shadowheart.

With another piercing shriek the three devourers moved in unison. Two towards Shadowheart and one towards me.

I adjusted the grip on my sword and waited for it to come into range before slicing through the meat of the brain. The little faux tentacles on the side swiped at me as I danced out of their reach. The air crackled as they whizzed by. Shit. Too close.

It skidded to a stop and turned to face me again and again, I waited for it to rush to me before making my move. As I thrust the sword into the brain, it wrapped its tentacle around my wrist and I roared in pain. I swung my arm around until it slipped from my wrist and went flying.

It hit the side of the ship with a splat and slid to the floor in a vicious, slick red puddle on the ground. It moved no more.

I held my wrist with my good hand and turned to Shadowheart, who was pulverizing one of the brains while the other smacked into her shield.

Pushing the pain from my mind, I came up behind the other and struck it right in its rear. It gave a blood curdling cry and danced at the end of my sword before collapsing on the deck.

Just when I’d thought I’d seen enough combat. I stood, looming over the dead devourers, and gave my head a shake. Monstrosities.

A sharp pain in my wrist brought me back to the present. I peeled the sleeve of my tunic back and grimaced at the angry, red slice. It had the same crisp edges as did the dead elf’s face, though it wasn’t as deep. Still hurt like a bitch.

I sheathed my sword and sat down upon one of the lopsided stairs. From a cursory glance, it looked like we were in half of the helm of the ship. I didn’t want to spend another godsdamned moment in there, but I needed desperately to catch my breath.

Shadowheart turned toward me, a victorious smirk on her face.“Well, you fight quite well. It seems our survival may not be such a distant prospect afterall.” Her eyes flitted to my wrist and the smirk disappeared. “You’re hurt.”

“Yes. It would seem so.”

As she reached into the bag on her hip, she walked over to me. She pulled out a large bandage and began to wind it around my wrist. When she was done and had tied it off, she whispered. “Take cure.”

The magic settled into my wrist, knitting the skin back together. The pain had already lessened by a considerable degree.

She stood up again and nodded. “It will be good as new in the morning…If we even have that long.”

I pushed myself up to my feet. “Let’s get moving. We don’t know how long it will take.”

“Agreed.”

We skirted through the helm, past the dead bodies of thralls that had been previously hidden, and past the body of a mind flayer.

Shadowheart stopped and spat on him. “Monster.”

“Monster’s too good a word for it.” I said, cupping her elbow. With a little tug, I said, “Come. Pissily staring at it won’t get us any closer to a cure.”

“You’re right,” she sighed and allowed me to guide her out of the ship and onto an unfamiliar patch of sand.

I tilted my head back, shading my eyes from the sun. Too much foliage and fiery wreckage, prevented me from seeing anymore of the temple. We’d just have to keep climb upward and hope we were going in the right direction.

I shrugged back at Shadowheart.

“Something the matter?”

“No, just looks like it’s a longer walk than we first anticipated. Hope we make it before nightfall.”

“You have got to be kidding me. Come on,” she said as she rolled her neck and shoulders. “This is ridiculous.”

“Welcome to, uh, wherever we are.” A pathetic attempt at a joke, but Shadowheart half-smiled at me anyway.

“Well you know---"

“Help! You! Help me!” A voice cried from the brush.

Shadowheart and I exchanged quizzical looks.

“Please, I need help,” the voice insisted.

“I’ll go,” I said with my hand on the hilt of my sword. She grabbed my arm. “We don’t know if they’re friend or foe.”

While she was right, she could also be very wrong. I smiled blandly at her. “I didn’t know that about you either and yet, here we are.”

She threw her hands up. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I headed toward the voice. “Promise, I won’t.”

A tall, white haired elf stepped directly in my path. He had a handsome face and windswept curly hair, nearly as white as snow. His dark eyes darted between me and the brush as he pointed.

“There! Do you see it? It’s just there, I had it cornered just now. Can you kill it? Like the rest of them.”

I sized him up; he was no small elf, tall and thick in stature, with a handsome, haughty face, angular in nature. And red eyes. I squinted. That couldn’t be right. No, they weren’t red, just a rusty brown…

I glanced over. “Where is it?”

“There, just there! Can’t you see it?” His voice very nearly sounded desperate.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” I drew my sword and stepped closer just as a boar jumped from the brush, causing me to jerk back in surprise.

Right into the waiting arms of the elf.

The cold bite of a dagger bit into my throat as his other hand gripped my aching wrist and my sword fell with a clang into the dirt. All while whispering, “Shh, shh,” in my ear.

Behind me Shadowheart roared. “I TOLD you! Let her go!”

The elf ignored her and his breath tickled my ear. “Now, you were on the ship, were you not? Just nod, like a good girl.”

As much as I wanted to remain calm, this was just too damned much. A pounding formed under the skin of the wound and there was a rock jutting into the middle of my back. I was fucking done with the day. Done.

I wriggled into him, taking him by surprise and leaving a trickle of blood at my throat as I slammed the crown of my head into his chin full force. Just as Aislinn taught me. I could almost hear the glee in her voice, telling me every inch of the body was a weapon.

He rolled back, roaring and I scrambled to get up just as Shadowheart ran over, her mace poised for attack. I stomped my heel on his wrist, twisting. He let go of the dagger and I gestured with my head for her to pick it up.

As soon as she grabbed the dagger, I moved my foot off his wrist and stepped back, allowing him to scrabble to his feet.

His handsome face was twisted into a red, wet angry mess of features. “How dare---arrgh!” He gripped his head between his hands.

My head throbbed as visions flashed before my eyes. The streets of Baldur’s Gate. Dark, but busy.

What the fuck? First the githyanki woman on the ship, then Shadowheart, now this elf too. I splayed my hands on my knees, panting as I stared up at him.

He stared back at me. “They put one of those brain things in you too. I felt it.”

I said nothing, observing him. The way his dark eyes flitted back and forth, searching my face.

He lifted his bruising chin at me. “And to think I was ready to decorate the beach with your innards. My apologies.”

I regarded him for a moment and stood up, giving him a curt nod. “Accepted.”

He smiled. “I am Astarion.”

Sigh. Here we go again. “I’m Dir.”

His light brows shot up. “Dir? As in, man?”

Did people think they were clever for pointing that out?

“Yes. And now, we’re in desperate need of a healer. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Are you insane?” Shadowheart hissed behind me. “He just tried to kill you!”

“There is safety in numbers. And it seems he has our problem.” I tapped my finger against my temple.

She sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

The elf grinned and bowed with a flourish of his arms. “Well, then, lead on.”

Lead on? Both Shadowheart and Astarion were both looking at me expectantly. I pretended not to see them as I readjusted my belt and went after my sword. This was insanity. I covered my mouth to prevent another giggle escaping.

“You alright there?”

“Yep, just a sneeze,” I said, pinching my nose as I slid my sword back into the scabbard. “Let’s go.”

“So, do either of you know the consequences of our little parasite?” Astarion drawled as we climbed further.

“Yes,” said Shadowheart. “It will turn us into mind flayers.”

Astarion laughed.

I whirled around and whispered, “Shh! Don’t draw attention to us.”

“Sorry, it’s just….of course it will turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?”

I peered him. He focused down on the soft white sand beneath our feet. His lips pursed into almost a pout. There was a sad, despairing look about him. The urge to comfort him was strong, but he didn’t look like the type of man who would appreciate a kind word and a soft touch from a stranger. He turned his face to the sun, eyes closed and inhaled deeply.

“I suppose we should get moving,” he muttered.

“Yeah, we should.”

“That’s curious,” said Shadowheart.

She pointed at a shimmering rune etched on the rocky wall. I jogged down the slope with Astarion on my heels. I traced my fingertips down the intricate lines. A transport rune. The stone was hot under my hands, yet left me cold and empty. The weave was barely reacting to my touch, leaving an ache in my heart.

“I see you’re alive and well!” An unfamiliar voice said.

Damn. I was meeting all sorts of new people today. I stood and turned towards his voice.

His voice was friendly enough, as was his face, save for the furrowed brow. But, he was more thoughtful than scornful. His brown eyes examined my face closer and his bearded mouth split into a grin, revealing straight white teeth.

“Where the bloody hells did you come from?” Shadowheart cried.

“Netherese rune,” the man said, patting the rune. “Simply viscous with magic. One little touch and now, well, here I am.”

The man turned his smile to me. “Last I saw you, you were laying in a crucibles worth of blood, an intellect devourer nibbling at your ear. Glad to see that my eyes deceived me. I’m Gale. Well met.”

I bowed my head to him. “Well met. These are my companions--”

“I’m Shadowheart.”

“Astarion. I take it you too, were on the ship?”

“That I was. A traumatic as well as instructive experience.” Gale replied, his palms together.

Shadowheart snorted and Astarion laughed aloud.

“An instructive experience? Hardly. Traumatic, yes, I’d say so,” Astarion drawled. “But tell me, Gale, were you also infected with our little…friend?”

“Indeed, I was. Are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mind flayers? A process known as ceremorphosis. It is to be avoided,” Gale said with a scowl.

I let my face curl into a half-smile. “Well, yes, I’d agree there.”

He looked between the three of us. “I take it none of you are wizards?”

“No, we are not,” Shadowheart sniffed. “Why?”

“Pity,” Gale said, seemingly to himself. He peered at me with a frown. “I sense a gust of weave coming from you, but I’m in need of more of a tempst.”

I lifted my brows in response, but said nothing. His eyes met mine for a brief moment.

He sighed. “Nevermind that. Our first priority is a healer. I don’t suppose any of you are accomplished healers?”

Crossing my arms over my chest I shook my head.

“That would also be a no,” Astarion replied.

“Hmm. Well, we need a healer, and fast. I’m not sure where we’re going to find one in this wilderness.” He rubbed his chin as he stared at the rune over my head. After a moment he clapped his hands together. “Why don’t we embark on this quest for a healer together?”

Astarion and Shadowheart were both oddly quiet and staring at me. I stepped forward, arms still crossed, regarding Gale. It was clear the man was intelligent. 

Slightly full of himself, but entirely capable. Of course, I was going to say yes, but not before I pretended to think it over.

“Alright,” I said, clearing my throat. “That sounds like a plan.”

Gale flashed his white teeth again. “Excellent! But before we’re off, I didn’t quite catch your name. And by didn’t catch it, I mean, you didn’t mention it.”

Here we go. I licked my dried lips. “I’m Dir.”

He inclined his head. “Well met, Dir. And, without further ado, let us be off!”

He gave no inclination of knowing the meaning of my name. Indeed, a learned man such as himself, would be apt to know the meaning. I smiled at him, a little grateful.

We pushed further up the cliff. Due to the sheer amount of debris and fallen earth, it took a few hours more than we’d originally anticipated. By the time the ancient ruins came into sight, the sun was settling low in the sky.

I put my hands on my hips. “We should stop and make camp soon.”

“Every moment we aren’t looking for a healer, is a closer moment towards death,” Shadowheart hissed.

“We need rest. Rushing won’t get us anywhere but into a load of trouble. Not to mention,” I pulled back my sleeve, pulling down the wrappings. Shadowheart inhaled sharply. The skin on my wrist was half-healed, an angry, throbbing red. “I’m of no use to anyone now with my wrist like this.”

Gale leaned in close to examine my wrist. “Intellect devourer got you?”

“Yes.”

He waited for me to say more. When I didn’t he began to turn my wrist over in his hand.

“Oh, don’t mind her,” Astarion said. “She’s the strong silent type.”

“Indeed,” Gale said, his eyes sparkling as he wrapped up my wrist again, taking care not to wrap too tightly or too loosely. “Too bad we’re not back at my tower. I probably would have a soothing salve for this.”

I allowed myself a smile. “I’m fine. We all need the rest. We’ll be of no use to each other, exhausted and hungry.”

Shadowheart opened her mouth as if she wanted to argue, but then thought better of it. “Fine. But we need to be up at first light.”

I nodded. “Agreed.”

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

You’re a WHAT

Kanene’s Notes:

I’m weak for carzy scenarios  and glitter, so BOOOM!! Why don’t get these two things together??? :D)/ This fic marks the end of my break, I will be (trying to) going back to my old projects and probably won’t be writing for some weeks kjnhgfvghjkjhg. Wish me luck! <33

This wasn’t suppose to take so much to be written but I lost my PC and life got in the way :v   Buuuut! I manage to finish it and I already count this as a victory! xP

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Remy and Roman. They’re friendos yay :3. Oh, and this is pretty crazy. Context: The morning after Black Friday when you’re grumpy and wanting to kick the society in the face. A LOT of swearing, Patton does not approve.  

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 2.900 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Try and have fun with new hobbies, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

                             [~*~]

Roman thought himself as a really lucky human being. Unbelievable lucky.

 It wasn't due to the apartment where he currently lived - Too much dull for his personal taste and space, getting even smaller from the day he admitted a messy, sassy and with sleep problems roommate, since Roman just started his musical career and couldn't afford an own house yet. - or the fact that was finally able to pursue his dream after years and years of just picturing, painting this moment on his future, only to find out his fantastic breathtaking and incredible goals weren’t nearly close of the cold reality, at least for now (Who would know that, after umpteenth days of hard studying and training he would need years and years of experience in order to even START wondering in get out of his partial-time job on that Electronic Store) or any other reason someone would be able to consider himself a receptacle of pure, brute luck, enlightened by the spotlights of the good, pleasant destiny...

 ... Or at least the most pleasant it could be in the horrible and exhaustive middle of the night after a whole day filled with his attempts to survive and treat respectfully the unmerciful, dirty jungle that humanity was at Black Friday. Something around fifteen  hours working with massive hordes of unscrupulous zombies starved for a sale and able to even kill and die (more likely the first option) to get what they want and with souls (if they still got one) free of any slight sight of education, patience and morals to be inserted in a society which, as it seemed, was equally rotten as them. View point only proved as Roman was obligated to be working after his shift to "clean all the mess" - more like hide the bodies of exhausted warriors after such bloody battle. – the store because those sons of a...

 "... Bitch, YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!!!" The poor, frustrated employed shouted to nowhere specific, his face turning towards the sky, seeking in some way to show his all his hate to the cinematography - because this was too much coincidence to NOT be part of a movie or some random fanfic on the black hole that was internet - rain falling at full force leading the weather to became even more freezing as soaked them both with its cool, thick drops.

Anyway, what he was daydreaming about?

"Roman." Oh, yeah, the reason why he viewed himself as a truly lucky person. "My gurl, if you try to impersonate a fucking, dramatic, bitch crow in my ear even again, I swear in the name of my life juice bean that I'm going to KILL you with my bare hands and these sunglasses."

 At least his best friend since, honestly, diapers, who coincidentally was his roommate and even more coincidentally, his coworker was just screwed as Roman himself. Which automatically made the duo less screwed, however equally pissed off, something that neither of them discovered if that was a good or bad thing, yet.

 "Fuck you, Remy" Roman whispered between an tired yawn, too much tired to even think about some nickname or to put real heat in his words as he got instinctively closer to the other, the one called taking off his jacket and lazily throwing it over their heads, doing his best to cover they both with the small available black leathered fabric, the act intertwined with grumpy grumbling and motions which would probably slap Roman's face if he wasn't careful. "I'm the one who buys your coffee."

 "Having my incredible, unique personality in your life should be motivation enough for you to buy me the entire Starbucks Company, be glad I'm weak to your cute face and am going easy on ya."

 " 'Cute'? Excuse me, I'm the most handsome, hottest and fabulous man you will ever met in your lowly life, mortal."

 Remy snorted at this "Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe, but if it's going to be like that your ego soon will have to pay his part at the rent."

 "Well, this 'ego' here was the only thing between your highness and jail after stopping you from committing all those murders today."

 "Bold of you to assume I wouldn't use my contacts to hide the evidences." Their tune were already completely sleepy, bodies instinctively leaning onto each other as the words stumbled, mixed and almost lost themselves in the soundly wind as slipped from their lips. Roman just laughed.

 "Well, if by ‘contacts’ mean 'Virgil' good luck getting him out of his bed on his free day. You would became the fucking new King Arthur." Roman rubbed his eyes, trying to physically force his eyelashes to not close, a new yawn finding its way to his mouth. He didn't even know about what they were talking anymore.

 "I roll the dice to cast Badass Nerd Bitch."

 “Logan??”

 “He likes to study nature stuff, especially at night, I’m sure he already knows some good spots to hide bodies. Glasses.”

 “Glasses?”

 “Glasses.”

 “OMG, the anime character with glasses.” Roman stopped, his mouth wide open as if all the secrets of the universe had been revealed to him.

 “Exactly.” Remy extended each syllable, grinning smugly.

 “I’ve never-“

“THIS IS A ROBERY!!”

 The sentence, which appeared to came out from nowhere, cut the air in a harsh, sharp tune, breaking the barriers and tying them up in the same place in a frozen position and wide eyes staring astonished the hooded form and their unreadable features under the bad illumination of the light poles helped by the increased storm. The wind trespassed them, stirring their clothes and making the muscles shake both of the alone employees in the middle of a dark, empty street at the dawn, even if the dangerously shiny knife directed towards their direction still in a hatred silence. 

 “My.” Roman knew he probably should be afraid, the freezing feeling running across his veins and frightening his brain and actions as infected his words in an unspeakable terror impossible to ignore nor escape. “fucking.” However, the only thing that slipped through his next was the purest, deepest, truest... “ASS.” Indignation.

 Roman thought about a lot of things. He thought about running away, grabbing Remy’s arm and sprinting across the street, about scream in the top of his lungs the waterfall of swearing already racing half way to his throat and even about kicking the knife out of the other’s hands and then kicking him - with a couple of cool moves he saw in some actions films - together with their frecking audacity to try to rob him of all the people in the world. Roman, who asked himself if he would have enough money to eat in the next week with a concerning frequency, who wondered if this is the life he will have until the end of his existence, if he will ever be able to accomplish his dreams.

 His gaze changed to Remy, who was paralyzed, trembling between the poor light of the street and the massive rain. Roman swallowed. Everything was in his hands.

 For a piece of Roman felt the strange urge to spill to the figure before him the story of his life, all his tries, all his battles, his everyday fights to make his dreams real. Blow by blow. Day by day. A life destined to go after everything he wished to himself, everything he wanted to life, to experience, to savor, to do everything in his hands to ignore and one day maybe, hopefully forget all the ghosts - these ones always accompanied by those emotionless, sharp whispers - asking, doubting nonstop if he ever would be able to do all of this, if he was doing the rights thing, if it was really worth all of it.

 However, before the first word even slipped of Roman’s tongue or his mind came fully back to Earth, Remy was already positioning himself strategically between the robber and his friend, the currently only one with the leather jacket falling on his shoulders. However, Remy didn’t seem nearly soaked as he should be, and for a heartbeat, the same one which Remy moved his hands to his jeans’ pocket, his fingers touching and firmly holding something there, Roman could swear that the unexpectedly shiver running across his spine wasn’t due the cold wind.

 Nor the sentence hurled in the clouds.

 “You know what?? Fuck it.”

 And then he unsheathed his magic wand.

 Roman loved with the entirety of his heart all kind of magic, he could easily spend an entire afternoon (which he already had, by the way) listing his favorites movies, musicals and stories with that theme. That also could be easily said by the thousands and thousands of worlds, universes and lifes he invented – in and out of his head - about the subject trough his childhood and handful of teenage years, random ideas and inspirations appearing and dancing in his mind until nowadays. If that only wasn’t enough to convince someone then the umpteenth memories of mornings and afternoons bathed in the smell of books, rocked by the calm silene of the public library as he turned one more page, his back lightly aching by the bad position assumed behind the shelters, in a place he strategically found and claimed as his own Bridge to Terabithia, enjoying every moment as if nothing else mattered. Perhaps you wouldn’t even need to swim in such deep, ancient waters to find out his love, since at least fifty percent of his day was dedicated to shout, hummer or murmur Disney songs.

 However, as rays of pure energy  - shiny and kind of glittery one - involved and swirled from Remy’s, who now was floating a few centimeters above the ground, wand in stripes that got lighter and lighter, begging to spin faster around the aforementioned, creating a spere of a power stunning and big enough to stop the rain in the corner.

 The silence resulting from the lack of the storm didn’t had the opportunity to fill the moment, being obligated to give its space to a soft, intense melody whispered in their ears. The notes standing some more moments in the air, the beating following the changes in the shadowed figure inside the spere. Hesitations taking over the loud, quick heartbeats when the song finally stopped.

 The power’s spere finally exploded, the impact leading to an unbelief and intensive force push both human meters away.

 “Get. Out.”  Remy’s tune still the same, his form – Now adorned by a gleaming crop top, his fluttering skirt over shorts floating in synchrony with the veils which surrounded his clothes and wrapping his arms, the ending spreading in the air as a bunch of angry powered and fancy snakes. - even with the new vestments full of glitter (this probably would be a hell to get off, later) still the same, his gaze, powerful – a new meaning pouring from this word – strong, still the same. But yet…

 Yet his wide eyed, heart hammering in his chest friend since he could remember found himself struggling to connect the same Remy who he had known – if he could still say that? -  all his life with the same being who gleamed dangerously before him.

 The magic wand danced in a quick flick and a trash can came of what seemed nowhere to hit the wobbled and absolutely terrified robber, who fell with a soft thumph in the ground, unconscious.

 “-man, Roman!!! Don’t just stay standing there like a tree, help me here, gurl!” Suddenly the called snapped from his own sea of thoughts, submerging and astonished blinking in Remy’s direction. The rain started to fell on them again, and when their eyes met, when Roman saw the same guy who spent afternoons climbing trees and pretending they were knights and dragons attacking or saving the world, when he recalled the silent sleepovers where they just sat near of each other enjoying the mutual company, the grumpy mornings in their apartment, the comfort hugs, the looks full of words, the smiles filled with meaning, the friendship stuffed with so many, many memories... 

 Nostalgia. The feeling that everything was changed albeit something… something important always stayed. Roman felt, truly felt it and fixed his glare into that brilliant – quite literally - glare adorned with a ‘I’m about to punch your cocky face if you keep fucking narrating every freaking second of your life, ya bitch’ he realized... 

 It was Remy.

 He took a deep breath, moving closer and gradually relaxing as the aforementioned focused in trying to lift the guy, swearing more frequently than raindrops fell from the sky.

 “Remy?”

 “Yeah?”

 “First crush.”

 The other stopped, frowning confused. Roman didn’t quiver, feeling he deserved some sort of answer. At least about this. “What?”

 “My first crush. Who?”

 “Kovu.” Remy maybe was a bit cold hearted, maybe he wasn’t the best with human interactions or knew exactly what Roman wanted with that… but he knew Roman enough to realize this was important. Essentially when the said seemed to relax, his form untensing itself and being allowed to get closer of the magic being.

 “Okay. Okay, okay…” Roman took a deep breath, grounding himself. Their gaze met, his next words coming a little calmer. “Okay.”

 “Please don’t make me sing that serenate you made for him. I’m gonna fucking quit.”

 “Oh, shut up!! Our first love is something special, mister I-Can’t-Choose-Between-The-Beast-And-The-Beauty.”

 Remy decided to ignore the words, slightly lowing his sunglasses with his special Judgmental ‘Bold of you to assume I have enough shame to be mocked’ Look. Roman just flipped in his direction, taking advantage that the other’s hands were occupied.

 It was still Remy, with a whole more of style and glitter – Why are there so much glitter here?? - but it was just Remy. Like just any other day.

 Before he even realized, Roman was already at his friend’s - and as it seems a magical being - side, helping him to carry the robber’s body to somewhere dry so he wouldn’t die of hypothermia.

 “Why don’t you- Ouch!! My feet, dammit!” His breaths came out as puffs, the effort leading to his already exhausted muscles only protest even more and very much probably curse him later with sore movements for the audacity to transport anything heavier than a pen. “Why don’t you use your... Wizard magic or something to carry him??”

 “Oh. My. Gosh. Roman, you are sooo intelligent, why aren’t you in Harvard? Ow! Ow! Ow!!” Remy’s sarcasm was cut when the other kicked, or did his best to with their actual position, him in protest.  “Homophobic.” He exhaled a mix of irritation and a snort, receiving a playful punch in his arm by their inside joke.  “I’m your Fairy Godmother, brainless. Unless it was you laid in this stupid, cold ground I can’t use my magic anymore... Except if this is someone of your family but I doubt-”

 “Wait, wait, wait, WAIT!!! YOU ARE MY FAIRY GODM-”

 “No, no way, nope, we are NOT having this conversation right now.” Remy, the Fairy Godmother let go of the unconscious body in a way that probably will make the guy wake up sore, perhaps with a concussion even, directing his index finger in Roman’s direction in a deep, determined stare full of darkness and things that Roman could swear would make Remy be expelled from the group of Friendly Fairy GodmotherS  or whatever... thing he was inserted. “Let me tell you what we are doing right now: We are going to home, change our clothes then I’m getting coffee and you will get sleep so I don’t have to face nor care about the freak consequences of my damn actions.”

 ...

 “That...” Roman stop, as if was considering his next words. Remy’s face just scrunched in a bigger, firmer frown. “That would be hella scary if you didn’t look like someone who just stole a store of glitter and got attacked by the gay, glitterly, shiny fairies who protected the place.”

 “Go fuck yourself. I’m locking you outside when we get there.”

 “Noo, please don’t! My evil stepmother didn’t let me go to the prince castle and now I need help! Crying emoji, crying emoji.” Roman mocked, imitating sad sobs and sniffles as quick his pace to follow the other, who flipped him.

 “I’m this far from knock you out with my magical wand and then you will see who is the evil stepmother.” His wand gleamed in warning, the red color getting mixed and trembled by the fast movements of his veils, one of them getting dangerously next to Roman’s face, who cleverly got silent for some heartbeats, the sound of the rain slowly calming their heartbeats and rocking them, the tiredness gaining the space which, piece by piece, was being unhanded by their adrenaline.

 They arrived home, both still quiet, feeling free as a relieved sign left their lips. Remy threw his soaked jacket in some dark corner, the bed being the only thing which was allowed to take over all his thoughts and will. 

 An awed gasp echoed behind him and he immediately regretted his move.

 “YOU HAVE WINGS????”

 Before his eyelashes closed, the shiny of the wand disappearing gradually as an ungodly amount of sleepiness gained complete control over his body, relaxing each one of his fibers and as a warm, magic good feeling fills every single cell in his being, Roman wondered if ‘Fuck it’ was the name of Remy’s spell.

[candyshua]

It’s a Long Way Home | Chapter 10 (Finale)

Pairing: Joshua x Minghao x Reader

Synopsis: It was dark, and then it was light. You’re finally lucid. After 15 years of not being conscious, you wake up in a desolate and post-apocalyptic earth where infected flesh-eating beings roam the streets. Soon enveloped into a mysterious group of survivors, you consistently wonder who they are. But most importantly, who are you?

Genre: Heavy angst, some fluff here and there

Warnings: Gore, bad language, physical & verbal abuse

Word Count: 2k

The world unfolded before your meek eyes. What was happening soon sunk in, and you immediately ripped your already bitten arm from "Joshua's" grasp. Looking down, you noticed a bite mark was there.

But then, like magic, it disappeared. It faded off of your skin gradually within the course of a few seconds, and you displayed no signs of turning any time soon. The moment your blood touched Joshua's tongue, a series of gargles elicited from his mouth and then he fell, clutching his chest. The Doctor watched intently, and Minghao merely rushed over to help you. "Are you okay?" He stuttered, and you just nodded emptily. You paid no mind to Minghao, your attention was on the dramatic scene happening in front of you.

The first thing you noticed about Joshua was his eyes. Soon, a familiar brown coated the white vastness, and pupils sprouted like a sudden unexpected rainstorm. Color returned to his face, and his flesh tightened and cleansed itself. The reverse transformation was surreal, along with extremely satisfying. His teeth whitened, his lips weren't a pale blue anymore; he was Joshua.

Clutching his chest with both of his hands, he fell to the ground and passed out in front of you. If somebody would've walked in at this very moment, they would've seen four humans.

Soon, your eyes widened and the tears on your cheeks dried. Your eyes wandered to the open cut on your arm, no signs of being bitten near. It was just a cut, like being sliced with a knife.

You were immune.

And you were the cure.

-

Time blended together in a haziness. Days felt like weeks, as your mind swam in and out on consciousness. The reality of the power you held kind of drove you mad temporarily, but any heated haziness can be replenished with a sweep of ice cold reality.

It started when Joshua would wake up in the middle of the night, in the hospital of Fort Lockwood of course, and then he'd puke up blood. You assumed it was just his body getting rid of the infection, but to be fair you had no idea how to react in this situation. Any medically experienced fellow would have been absolutely stumped. Slowly, Fort Lockwood was rebuilt and The Doctor was under constant surveillance. You helped revive the fort to what it used to be, along with taking care of the excess scientists.

You had felt heaps of guilt, knowing many people died due to their mere inconvenience. So many souls succumbed to the title of "Collateral Damage". They were executed because they were in the way - and that was that.

Truth be told, it had been four days since your attack on Fort Lockwood, but it felt like four months. Everything was so slow, worry tended to drag things out until the final show - where everything all comes crashing down. It was like you were in a play, and the end was near.

But one more plot twist was in store, just to mess with you.

Today, you would finally talk to The Doctor - face to face. Alone.

You walked into the dimly lit basement where Joshua was once constricted, that thought being enough to stimulate an anger deep inside you. You strode over to the beaten down man, who once reigned down upon his own miniature civilization. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Now, he was under the control of somebody he used to own, somebody he used to control.

You could do whatever you wanted to him. You could torture him like he did to you, you could let him starve to death, hell - you could untie him and let him walk out a free man. You weren't foolish enough to do so, but you knew you could have.

You were powerful. This time, you were mighty and great, you were no longer the girl subject to a glory-desiring genius or her amnesic self. You were the one with the good hand, it was like showing your royal flush to fellow poker players. The prize was so close, yet so far. But, was it as glorious and magnificent as it was prophesied to be? Was power what you wanted?

You knew you wanted to make him suffer, like he did to you.

Alas, you were a living example of it - you had won.

And, The Doctor had many answers you needed. But, you wanted his name to be forever tainted - not glorified as he had wanted. So, when you walked in that room, you had a vision in your mind.

"Hello." You hissed, the pure rage burning inside of you. The Doctor scoffed, his ragged, pale skin and scruffy grey beard only adding to his pathetic and defeated nature. His icy blue eyes were no longer sparking with the evil dreams that blew inside of him, instead they were hollowed out with the harsh winds of you. You played with the gun in your waistband, until you pulled it out and pointed it directly at his head.

"I'm making it quick. Have fun rotting in Hell, buddy." You grumbled.

And then you squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot rang through out the room, but you didn't care. The incessant ring in your ears was overpowered by your triumphant smile. Victory was yours, and it tasted oh so sweet.

-

A week later, Joshua's puking wouldn't stop. You had talked to Seungkwan about it, but his blood loss was extremely risky and potentially fatal. You didn't have the technology nor the staff to figure out what was happening.

Yet, you didn't really need that. Joshua called you to his room one day, and he knew exactly what was happening to him. The thick quiet atmosphere spoke louder than so many things you wanted to say, the air impregnated with a poignant awkwardness. You two had talked over the course of this week, but there was something gone. He wasn't the Josh he was before, but did you expect him to be?

"He did horrible things to me." Joshua mentioned oddly, the once quiet air now drowning in those sad words. You didn't need to be told, for you knew the horrible extensiveness of The Doctor's actions. You just nodded and let him talk.

"He told me why he did it...How he created the virus, how you were immune...And then he fucking injected me with it- and you saved me." He continued, and you just nodded solemnly. "I don't think your blood cured me though, Y/N. I think your blood reversed whatever happened...I think it's poisoning me."

The cruel reality of fate was quite entertaining at times. It was obvious -- if your blood was the cure, then why didn't The Doctor have you hooked up to a machine? Of course he had tested your blood before. And, of course, it didn't work.

What were you supposed to do? Pretend to be shocked at the inevitability? You and Seungkwan had tried everything in your power to end Joshua's sickness, but it was no use. You knew - you god damn knew - that Joshua was going to die. And it was your fault.

You wanted to cry, but it was like you were dried out from the insurmountable amount of tears you have cried this week. You just sighed, and then laughed.

You laughed hysterically, to the point where tears rolled down your face endlessly. Joshua didn't react, he knew it was an odd reaction of some sort. Soon, your laughs surprisingly turned into tears, and then choking sobs. "I'm so sorry!" You wailed, and Joshua just held you like he used to, before everything went to shit.

You weren't at home when you in Joshua's arms. Joshua wasn't himself anymore, and you both knew that. "It isn't your fault." Joshua soothed. Truth be told, it really wasn't. He would've continued to be a mindless infected buffoon if you hadn't tried to save him with your blood. You had given him a little more time.

"I fucking poisoned you..." You shakily sobbed, as he stroked your hair and bit his lip. He wanted to cry, but he had accepted his fate. The pain of knowing that Joshua couldn't hold on to his love for you is what troubled him the most. For your love was a flame, but eventually it dwindled and burned out.

Now, just ashes were remaining. And here in the pile of ashes, you cried for what could have been.

"You gave me more time, Y/N."

"I shouldn't have killed The Doctor. He could've fixed this-"

"You did what was understandable." Joshua interrupted, hushing you softly. Soon, a comfortable silence engulfed you two, and all that could be heard were your quiet sobs or Josh's soft, slowing breaths.

"I want you to be happy, Y/N." Joshua mumbled, and you knew what he was getting at. You knew he knew, but you refused to believe it. Denial was a strong force after all.

"What do you mean?" You questioned dumbly.

"You know exactly what I mean. Don't guilt yourself into being alone forever. I can rest happily knowing that you'll be happy." Joshua mumbled, and you just sucked in a sharp breath.

You wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that he shouldn't give up because you loved him, but that wasn't true. You weren't at home with Joshua, there was no warmth. The love was gone, and it rekindled for the man who had been waiting for you. Joshua had still loved you, and he would die loving you. And in another life, he would be happy with you.

Just not in this one, for you would be happy with someone else. And Joshua? Well Joshua would be dead.

-

That night, Joshua had died beside you. And soon you learned that your blood wasn't the cure.

Not only that, you had discovered everybody from the ship you were previously on came down to Earth, and your father was no where found. And now, you lie in bed next to Minghao, a year later, still in Fort Lockwood. The world would continue on, and The Doctor's name would forever be cursed.

You and Minghao sat on top of the watch towers, looking over the forest that surrounded Fort Lockwood. It was around 2 AM, and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence. You wanted to say something, like that your period was late -- or that it had been a year since Joshua died.

But you just sat there, in silence. It was like Minghao knew the sound of the silence, he could listen to it.

During this past year, you and Seungkwan had worked endlessly with samples of your blood. No cure had surfaced.

Not only that, but no word from your father had been heard either. And as you stared into the dwindling dawn, you realized some questions would never be answered. Then, the sun rose and everything went on, like it always had.

And for a split second, you were again that girl who was confused with herself, who didn't know who she was or what she wanted, but then the feeling died. You lied in bed next to Minghao, resting after your night shift, and stared at his closed eyes.

A new passion erupted in you, a passion that was fueled from your love and experiences. It made you want to protect Minghao, it made you regret not being able to protect Joshua, and it made you you.

It was like a new reality was discovered -- a clearer more dense one. You weren't one of the good guys -- you had killed, stolen, and lied. You did all of those things because you thought you were right.

Yet looking back at it, you were so wrong. And an even harsher reality sunk in once you realized you could never make it right. You would forever be a killer, and a burglar, and a liar.

Your eyes sunk into Minghao's closed ones, and tears fell out of your eyes before you could stop them. Everyday, you would try to find a cure to help the fucked up world you lived in. You had no time to think about your happiness, because the world sat in your hands.

In another life you would be just another normal girl -- but not in this one.

THE END.

[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [9/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #gold #warriors #gods in disguise

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

“Just going to put this out there, but if breaking into a flower shop is your idea of a first date, it might explain your lack of game,” Jason remarks. Tim glares up from the rear door where he’s disabling the building’s paltry security system. The other man sniggers, the sound echoing through the vocal modulator of his helmet. “Too soon?”

“You’re an ass,” Tim informs him, clipping a wire to ensure there will be no outgoing calls to the alarm company.

Jason is still chuckling as he picks the lock to get them in. He’d complained when Tim insisted on no unnecessary smashing of their way into some innocent owner’s shop. Thankfully, he’d also yielded with an uncharacteristic lack of fight.

Vigilantes cause enough property damage fighting the villain of the week, we’re not going to send some poor guy’s insurance premiums up because the Red Hood wants to kick in a door.

“How come you never broke into a flower shop for me?” Steph wants to know, voice crackling across the comms.

“That ship sailed when you hit me in the face with a brick,” Tim mutters as he and Jason slip through the rear entrance and begin looking around.

“Hold a grudge much?”

“Looks like the roses are back here,” Jason says, shining a flashlight into a cold storage display. “Think the color affects the spell?”

“Everything about this is cliché already, so I’m guessing it has to be red,” Tim deadpans, digging into his belt for a few bills to pay for their break-in and theft. Meanwhile, Jason reaches into the display and removes a bunch of red roses.

“Gotta say, this is easier than the usual job. Kind of lackluster.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Feeling cheated? I could queue up the Mission Impossible soundtrack for you on my phone.”

“More like Beauty and the Beast, given the situation.” Jason considers and then snorts, “Actually, definitely like Beauty and the Beast. You know that story was actually based on our annoying feathered friend?”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. In the original version of the myth, an oracle tells this girl Psyche she’s destined to marry ‘a monster that neither god nor mortal can resist.’”

“Eros.”

“Bingo.” Jason pauses, seeming to remember where they are, and then clears his throat, holding up the flora. “So, we good? Ready to channel your inner Zatara?”

“Only if I can be Zatanna.”

They leave the shop.

“Go for it. I’ve met that cousin of hers. He’s a douche.”

Tim laughs out loud. It’s not anything he hasn’t heard before—or agreed with.

The comms crackle then, bringing him back to present.

“Are you flirting?” Steph asks, sounding amused and awed. “Oh my god, you are. This is totally you flirting with each other, isn’t it?”

“We’re not flirting,” Tim grumbles, looking away from Jason, pulling his cowl down a little lower to hide his warming cheeks. He had completely forgotten about the open commlink.

“I’m flirting,” Jason confirms without shame. “But I’m allowed. I have a note.”

“You are both embarrassments,” Damian disdains.

“I think it’s cute,” Steph coos. “I know it’s temporary and all, but we should give them a ship name.”

“A what?”

“A name for their relationship. A portmanteau. All the celebs do it. Like Kimye. And technically Tim is a celebrity, so—”

“Keep the comms clear,” Dick growls, attempting to mimic the Batman voice, but there’s a tightness to it that screams discomfort. “And no names in the field.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Aw, are we makin’ you blush, Dickhead?” Jason jeers. “I thought you out of everyone would appreciate a good flirt…”

“Not when it involves my brothers. Magically induced feelings or not, I don’t need a play-by-play…”

“Consider this repayment for all the times I walked in on you and Kori at the Tower,” Tim says easily.

Dick groans. “You really did grow up mean.”

Jason roars with laughter.

“This surprises you?” Damian interjects. “He had a hit list of potential threats with all of us on it.”

Jason whistles. “Seriously? Babybird, I’m impressed! Also, annoyed—how am I the only one that gets labeled the bad one?”

“Because you don’t understand the meaning of subtle.”

“Careful, Robin, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Can we just get out of here?” Tim mumbles, ears still burning a bit.

It’s not like he’ was trying to flirt or lead Jason on in any way. It just seems like treating this enforced dynamic lightly, trying to find some humor in things, makes everything seem a little less…terrible.

And okay, maybe he’s kind of enjoying the fact their recent interactions are lacking their usual bite. When he was a kid, he dreamed about befriending Robin; after Jason died and even after he resurrected, that became something impossible.

But this, even in the backdrop of a horrible situation, it’s like getting a taste of that.

Which is dangerous, since it’s not going to last.

No matter how tightly Jason holds Tim’s hand as they speed toward Robinson Park, or continues to watch him as they park Redbird under camouflage nearby. He can’t know for sure, but he suspects that under the helmet, Jason may be smiling at him.

Like he’s his favorite person in the world.

But that’s why Eros said he was the one who had to do that, right?

It still sucks.

“Everyone in position?” Dick’s voice crackles over the comm line. “Batman – north quadrant.”

“Robin – south quadrant. This is still a bad idea.”

“Most of our ideas are bad ones. Batgirl – east quadrant.”

“Red and Red at the drop point,” Tim says, scanning the open glade they’ve chosen. “We’ve got the west quadrant once we set the trap.”  

He crouches down on the ground and sets to work.

“You really think an electric cage is gonna be enough?” Jason asks as he loiters beside Tim, twirling the rose between thumb and forefinger. “Considering her talents avoiding capture, Carrie Cutter probably knows how to get out of a trap.”

“Which is why we distract her and knock her out as soon as we confirm she has the diviners,” Tim reminds him as he finishes placing the electromagnetic field generators in the ground. Rather than dig up the earth, he hides them beneath debris and branches.

“Which is why you distract her, and I knock her out,” Dick reminds over the comms. “You two are to get clear of the area as soon as the spell is done.”

“Father would not approve of us relying on spells.”

“Luckily B’s not here,” Jason replies, using a knife to sharpen the rose’s stem to a point. “Now what?”

“Eros said we have to join hands, and then you have to say this—” Tim digs into his belt and passes the ripped magazine cover, “—apparently it invokes the words of Eros. I can’t read it, but he said you could.”

Jason takes the page.

“How the hell would I know how to—oh.”

“I guess the same way you were speaking ancient Macedonian?”

“Looks like.”

“Anytime now, imbeciles,” Damian snaps in their ear. “The sooner this foolish plan fails, the sooner I can say ‘I told you so’ and return home.”

“Sounds like the toddler’s gettin’ cranky,” Jason snorts. “Must be past his bedtime.”

“At least he’s being optimistic,” Steph points out. “Assuming we’re getting back home and all.”

“Once again you’ve displayed your tendencies towards selective hearing, Fatgirl, I said I intend to return home, not that I expected you to do the same.”

“Charming,” Tim drawls.

“Damian’s right,” Dick interrupts. “Let’s get this over with.”

There’s a moment of fumbling where Tim grabs the rose so that Jason can use one hand to hold the incantation and take hold of Tim’s with his other.

Tim stares down at their joined hands, Jason’s on top of his; he notes the collection of scars on the backs of his knuckles. Knuckles his face has been intimately acquainted with in the past—

“Here goes,” Jason mutters, brandishing the invocation. When he next speaks, it’s in a language Tim has never heard before, as incomprehensible as what he was saying the other day when he nodded off during the movie.

And yet it still sends shivers down Tim’s spine.

The rose glows with golden light and then flies out of his hand to hover in the air above them.

“What’s next?”

“He said something about palms together, so—”

They readjust their hands.

“No, wait, yours should be on top,” Jason suggests. “Minimize the chance of you getting in on this oh-so-fun obsession thing.”  

“Yeah, hard pass…”

As soon as their hands are horizontal over the ground, the rose gives a pulse of energy and then shoots downward, piercing fully through both their hands.

“Motherfucker!” Jason shouts.

Like Tim, it’s probably only years of training that keeps them from jerking their hands away from each other with the rose still piercing them.

“What happened?” Dick demands.

“We’re embracing a new career as human pincushions,” Jason snarls.

“He didn’t tell me what was going to happen,” Tim says through gritted teeth; the pain is nothing compared to what any of them have been through, but it still makes his stomach twist like he wants to throw up.   

Blood wells around the stem of the rose, sliding around their hands and dripping onto the ground. They stay completely still, waiting for the flow to drip to an end and then stop completely.

In that instant, the rose vanishes like nitrocellulose paper, freeing their hands. Jason shakes his hand, still cursing as he studies the wound, while Tim kneels in the dirt to etch the symbol of Eros into the ground.

There’s a golden shimmer against the grass, and then—

Nothing. 

Tim won’t lie, he sort of expected more smoke and explosions or some indication that something magical was about to happen.

From the way Jason’s head tilts to one side, he expected the same. “Now what?”

“Now we wait, I guess. She’s human, it’s not like she’s going to teleport here I guess.”

“She has been taking the slow route so far…”

“Take advantage of it,” Dick orders. “Get to cover.”

“And no making out,” Steph says cheerfully. “No one wants to hear sucking noises.”

“Seriously, Batgirl?”

“Why would you say that?” Damian sounds scandalized.

“Muting our comms then. Wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities,” Jason says, tapping the side of his helmet. There is a chorus of complaints and disgusted groans in the background. A beat later, his shoulders tense like he’s wincing and he glances at Tim, head ducked down. “Sorry. That made it sound like—”

“No, they’re being jerks,” Tim says as he mutes his own comms. “Let them stew.”

Jason’s mischievous, conspiratorial laugh is entirely worth the flack Tim knows he’s going to get from Dick later.

They retreat to their designated spot, crouching down to await the supposed arrival of their query.

“I was sort of expecting us to be struck by lightning or something,” Jason admits after several minutes, drumming his fingers against his thigh in a quick and nervous rhythm. His other hand keeps reaching for the catch of his helmet, then jerking back downward, like he’s fighting the impulse to pull it off. Whether to tear at his hair or scrape at the skin of his neck, Tim isn’t sure, but either compulsion worries him.

He’s been good so far tonight, ever since they all got their marching orders, but now that he’s sitting still, he’s clearly without a distraction.

Tim stretches across the small distance between them and takes his hand in his.

“Struck by lightning, huh?” Tim says, swallowing against the awkwardness. He can feel Jason’s eyes on him from beneath the helmet. “Looking to defect to the Allen family?”

“Well, red is my color,” Jason jokes tensely, then shrugs. “Actually, I was thinking in terms of the gods. It happened a lot in all the myths, where if you pissed someone off Zeus would fry you with a bolt of lightning. Or, you know, Hera would trick some poor girl to ask to see Zeus’s in all his immortal glory and then she’d get fried.” He snorts. “Almost all the myths basically boil down to trouble started because Zeus couldn’t keep it in his pants.” 

“Clearly,” Tim mutters. “Guess Flash and Kid Flash were lucky they got powers instead of dead. Somehow the Big-Pile-Of-Dust doesn’t have the same charm as Scarlet Speedster.”

Things go quiet again.

Out in the open, there’s still no sign of Carrie Cutter. Tim wonders if maybe this whole thing really is just Eros having fun at their expense.

Oh well. Even if it all turns out to be a bust, this is keeping Jason’s mind occupied. Better than anything we could do for him locked up in the manor…

“I’m glad it was you I was working with at the time, and not Grayson or the bat brat,” Jason says suddenly.

“Why’s that?” Tim asks absently.

“Because you’re not family.”

Tim tries not to react. He’s had punches to the gut that hurt less than that.

It’s pretty much what I figured, but still…

“At least not the way they are,” Jason continues, oblivious to Tim’s reaction. “Nightwing wasn’t around much when I was a kid, but it was like having an older brother in college or something, right? Anytime I picked up the phone to bitch about the old man, he’d take the call.”

Tim swallows, needing a beat to ensure his voice doesn’t sound heavy, and ventures, “Did you…do that often?”

He’s not sure how to take the older man’s sudden candidness.

“More than you’d think. Not the first year—he still wasn’t that real to me before then, just a name I kept getting compared to. Also, he was always fighting with B, or treating me like his replacement.”

“Imagine that,” Tim says wryly.

“What, you thought you were the only one to get the cold shoulder?”

“His cold shoulder didn’t involve causing permanent scarring.”

Jason winces. “Fair.”

“Forget it. I told you before, water under the bridge,” Tim dismisses. “How’d you end up making good with N, back then?”

“I ran away. Tried to make it on my own because B was being…you know. Shit went down and I came back to the manor, and then Dickiebird showed up and told me about how he ran away shortly after B took him in.”

Tim blinks. “I never knew that.”

“Must’ve been before you took up your stalking hobby,” Jason says, and Tim can hear the grin in his words. “After that, he was more real to me. And he tried to actually be there. Except when he was off-planet.” He pauses for a moment, thoughtful, and Tim remembers that that’s where Nightwing was when Jason was making plans to go to Ethiopia. “And then with the brat—we come from the same place. Mothers sold us out, don’t play well with others, never really had a childhood…trying to toe B’s stupid line when we know it’s never gonna work…”

“You don’t know that.”

“Agree to disagree, Timbers. The point is, with those two, I get it. They’re family, even if I don’t want them to be. But you—”

Tim’s shoulders slump. “Not damaged enough?”

“Bullshit, you’re plenty damaged. You chose this shit, and there’s a special kind of insanity in that.” That should be an insult, but Jason’s tone is admiring. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m relieved. That I’m fixating on you and not—look, I couldn’t take the incest guilt on top of losing my mind. It’s one less thing to hate myself about.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, Tim thinks, especially that bit about Jason hating himself. He opens his mouth to say something about it, but then Dick’s voice growls, “We’ve got company. Everyone stay sharp.”

Looks like we’ll have to table things until later…

A motorcycle speeds into the park, the growl of the motor shattering the otherwise quiet night. The woman upon it, clad in green combat gear and without a mask or even a helmet over her bright red hair, practically leaps off the bike without stopping, letting it skid to one side.

Her eyes are wild, and her arms snap out in front of her in an oddly zombiesque. Tim understands the reason for the latter when he takes note of the wrist-mounted crossbows on both hands.

Ten to one those are Eros’ diviners.

Cutter marches straight up the sigil, which shimmers and vanishes, and she stops, looking around.

Tim’s finger hovers over his wrist computer, waiting with bated breath as she edges closer and closer to the trap.

“Come on,” Jason murmurs under his breath, attention fixed on that as well.

“Where is he?” Cutter growls and Tim is surprised at how rough her voice is compared to the way she’s sounded in various interrogation videos he’d used for research. “This is his blood, so where is the brat?”

She finally takes the final step and Tim engages the cage.

Fingers of electrical energy spring to life around her, creating a contained dome around Cutter. She snarls, trying to jump backward, but the forcefield keeps her immobile. She can’t even move her arms.

Across the clearing, Dick materializes from the shadows in silence.

 “Be careful, Batman,” Tim cautions in a low voice. “The electric field was supposed to knock her out.”

“If you really thought it would be that easy, you haven’t been doing this long enough,” Jason murmurs.

Tim ignores that. “The field will keep her from shooting you while she’s in there, but the minute I deactivate it, she’ll try something. Get her disarmed first.”

“It’s like you think this is my first time,” Dick mumbles before he growls out his imitation of Bruce, “Carrie Cutter. You made a mistake coming to Gotham.”

The woman’s slightly manic expression freezes on her face and then smooths into something predatory. “Oh, I see. So, you’re the Batman. I have to say, I’m underwhelmed.”

Dick remains silent, and Jason snorts, leaning in a little too close to Tim to murmur, “Wonder how hard it is for him right now not to make a joke.”

Tim grins.

“Your murder spree ends tonight,” Batman says. “If you cooperate, it will go better for you.”

“Isn’t that what every guy says?” Cutter purrs. “What if I like it a bit rough?”

“It’s up to you. You’re getting arrested either way, but if you work with me, I can ensure a lighter sentence.”

Tim can practically hear Jason grinding his teeth at that. He nudges him.

 Now’s not the time for a rant about Red Hood’s brand of justice…

“That’s awful accommodating for the Big Bat. I must have something you want,” the woman muses, shifting as she continues to test the bounds of the forcefield. She glances down at the ground and then snorts. “You’re working with Eros. The little brat wants his toys back, doesn’t he?”

Damn. So much for surprise.

“And if you give them up without bloodshed, we can figure out a deal.”

Her expression becomes pinched. “What makes you think I care about deals?”

“Because without making one, you wouldn’t have been able to steal those in the first place.” He gets closer until he’s looming over her. “Tell me who helped you steal the diviners. If I know who it is, I can protect you from them better.”

“Protect me,” she repeats. “What makes you think I need protection?”

“I already have intel that says the only ones who know about the diviners and how to wield them would have to be Olympians or beings of similar nature. They don’t tend to be the most altruistic—or forgiving.”

“Well, you have a point there,” Carrie agrees with a smirk, and Tim suddenly has a really bad feeling about this. “But then, I knew what I was getting into when I struck my little bargain.”

“We can help you,” Batman insists. “You don’t have to be alone in this, Carrie.”

“Now see,” she purrs, “your mistake is thinking I came here without their help.” Her eyes burn a bright, unnatural red, and her entire body begins to glow. “Or that we mind a bit of bloodshed.”

⁂

“Well, that, wasn’t in her files,” Tim remarks lightly, in a mild voice that tries not to betray the ‘oh shit we’re screwed’ sentiment of the moment.

“I’m not usually one for negotiations, but I think that means they failed,” Jason remarks.

“Your grasp of the obvious is impeccable!” Damian sneers across the comms.

Jason can’t help blink as Cutter seems to draw into herself, her back rounding and arms tucked in before she emits a wordless growl. She shoves her hand right up and through the electric cage holding her—and wraps it around Batman’s throat faster than he can avoid it.

I know she’s enhanced and all, but something tells me she’s not usually that fast!

Sparks sizzle and fly as the cage around her shorts out, and she lifts Batman over her head.

Or strong.

Freed from the cage, Cutter pulls back her left arm, priming the miniature crossbow on it. Jason doesn’t hesitate—he’s got his guns out and takes two shots in rapid succession, hitting both her wrists directly where the devices are attached.

Cutter curses as they fall to the ground, dropping Batman, who immediately tries to reach for the discarded diviners. A steel-toed boot to the chest and more force than should be possible stops him, leaving him momentarily winded on the ground.

“Converge!” Tim orders. “Don’t let her pick up those weapons again!”

“No, I thought we’d let her have them, she seems so reasonable!” Steph snarks, but is already dashing from her hiding spot.

“Hood—get the diviners while she’s distracted!”

“Easier said than done, Red!”

Steph reaches Cutter first, lunging forward with a right hook that is neatly evaded. Cutter grabs her by the shoulders and shoves her downward, kneeing her in the face. As Steph stumbles back, trying to shake off the blow, Cutter backhands her.

Dick is back on his feet, kicking out with a roundhouse that Cutter ducks before grabbing hold of him again. Undeterred, he headbutts her and this time it’s Cutter that staggers back, reeling enough for a front-kick that nearly downs her.

“Stay down, Carrie,” he growls.

“It’s cute you think that’s going to happen,” she laughs. The timber of the sound doesn’t seem quite right for some reason. 

As she rallies, she aims a kick to Tim’s face when he tries to get close enough to grab the diviners, forcing him to bend backward. Jason snarls, whipping a knife at her face in retaliation, which she catches and lobs back at him, forcing him to bend backward to avoid it.

As reaches for a gun, Steph recovers, trying for a downward chop to Cutter’s blind spot. However, the redhead rallies, manages to get an arm around her neck and hold Steph up, choking her in the crook of her elbow.

“Go on and take the shot, warrior,” Cutter taunts.

Goddamnit—she knows I can’t.

Normally he would, but his hands aren’t exactly steady today. Beyond that, he gets the sense that training or not, Cutter is a lot faster right now than she should be.

Damian materializes behind her and tries to clothesline her, but this fails as she whips around and punches him in the solar plexus, making him lurch backward.

“I never liked children...”

Dick’s attempted right hook fails, too. Cutter twists around and knees him in the jaw, all while Steph continues to struggle against the chokehold. Her arms slap uselessly against her adversary, who still has the strength to punch the still rallying Batman so hard he flies backward several yards, forcing Tim to duck out of the way or be bowled over.

Damn it. She’s taking them out too fast, there’s no opening to get the diviners.

Cutter throws Batgirl over her shoulder and into the ground, hard. Steph doesn’t move, and Cutter makes another attempt to pick up the diviners.

His line of sight clear now, Jason fires several rounds, targeting her joints, but somehow, she avoids them all.

“That…should not be possible.”

Jason knows his marksmanship capabilities, and unless she’s got precognition, she shouldn’t be able to avoid being hit.

Definitely faster than human. Either that, or she’s got tougher skin than expected and just isn’t bleeding.

As he pauses to reload, Red Robin creeps up behind her, once more trying to get his hands on one of the abandoned crossbows. Cutter spots him, grabs him by the folds of his cape and sends him flying straight at Jason, who’s forced to stop shooting and catch him.

“You okay?”

“Fine—let me up.”

Jason hesitates a minute.

Even with the body armor, he’s way too small…

“Hood!”

“Right—yeah,” Jason shakes his head, forcing himself to remember the fact they’re in the middle of a fight.

Several yards away, Damian darts back again, this time with a sword that Jason’s sure he’s not supposed to have with him. He swings in an underhand arc at her unguarded back, but she whirls around, diverts the blow by catching and pushing away the hilt. Robin is already twisting his body around, trying to aim a downward swipe to her abdomen—and she bends back to avoid it with ease. He makes a third attempt, slices the blade overhead again, and she dodges it by inches, the steel passing harmlessly over her. He doesn’t get a fourth shot, as this time she grabs hold of his hands where they grip the sword and throws him away from her, sword and all. The blade slips from his hands as he skids to the ground, rolling several times in the dirt.

Tim’s sprinting forward again, bo staff at the ready, but Cutter is ready to catch him, neatly avoiding his attempt to shatter her collarbone with the staff. Still, he turns, using the momentum to follow through, shoving the staff backward to hit her abdomen. Before it can connect, her hands fasten around the staff, and she tries to pull him forward. Red Robin evades her hold the first time, freeing his staff and comes back around with an overhand swing from the right, but Cutter dodges, shoving a palm at his sternum and sending him flying into Batman.

With Tim clear once again, Jason lets loose another volley of gunfire, stalking forward. His accuracy improves the closer he gets—he can see her clothing shred in places as the bullets glance by. She seems to notice this too, because then she’s bending forward and kicking out, foot under Batgirl and sending her directly into Jason’s path, forcing him to drop his weapons and catch the other vigilante.

“Oof! Did you gain weight?”

“Rude. You didn’t say that to Red Robin.”

“He doesn’t have your ass.”

“He wishes he had my ass,” she replies, pushing off Jason and crawling off to the side.

“You’re both asses,” Tim grunts across the comms.

“Once again you state the obvious,” Damian puffs. He’s recovered by now, sword back in hand, and is unsuccessfully trying to swipe Cutter’s knees from underneath her. Somehow Cutter manages to slip beneath his guard and kick him in the chest, forcing him into the same heap where Steph and Jason are struggling to their feet.

Tim gets up again, dashes forward to jab with his bo that Cutter continues to avoid. He rolls it over his wrist, changes his grip like he’s holding a baseball bat and tries to sweep her legs out from under her. She avoids that and neatly moves to one side as the energizer bunny that is Damian returns to the fray.

Instantly, the two birds take up positions on either side of her, Robin slicing downward, forcing her to jump again, while Red Robin attempts to knock her out from above.

Somehow, Cutter’s body appears to scissor, and she executes a complicates midair flip that twists her almost horizontally between the two swinging blades.

Holy shit, it’s like Raiders of the Lost Ark…

As she lands, the guys move in sync to hit her with their weapons, but she fastens her hands around theirs and with seemingly no effort, spins and throws them off in a whirl of counterclockwise motion. They land close to Steph and Jason, and Cutter is left holding the bo and sword, which she curls her lip at in disgust, and launches them into the air with unnatural force.

Her eyes flit over them, narrowed in suspicion, before she suddenly whirls around to find Batman—and a well-placed right hook—waiting for her.

She falls hard to the ground, barely able to brace herself on the heels of her hands.

“It’s over, Carrie,” he says coolly.

She blinks guilelessly up at him and then smiles coldly. “'Flowers of this purple dye’.”

Dick’s mouth turns downward in confusion, but Jason feels like something’s just jolted his brain.

“'Hit with Cupid’s archery’,” he murmurs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steph asks.

“Batman, watch out—!”

Cutter swings her left leg out, hobbling Batman at the knees; as he moves in the air to regain his balance, Cutter gets hold of the nearest crossbow and stabs one of the tiny arrows into Batman’s thigh, somehow with enough strength to burrow past all the body armor.

“No!” Red Robin shouts as Dick groans in pain.

“Sink in apple of his eye,” Cutter singsongs, "when his hate he doth espy!”  Then she laughs and in a harsh language that resembles the one Jason used to summon her, “Hate them, Batman. Throw caution to the wind and kill them all.”

The arrow vanishes into stardust and Dick’s entire frame goes tense. Then, he slowly turns his head towards them. His mouth curls into a horrible smile, and beneath the lenses of his mask, Jason sees an unnatural red gleam.

“I’m guessing that was one of the lead tipped ones,” Tim murmurs.

“Yeah…that’s a complication,” Jason replies, stomach sinking.

Which is an understatement.

Dick Grayson is a force of nature on a good day—well on par with Bruce in terms of skill, maybe even better in other aspects. And Jason’s tangled with him a few times, both when he’s been in his right mind and with the human decency brainwashed out of him.

Neither one’s good.

Add the danger Dick poses to a murderous psychopath with the untold backing of an unknown god, and Jason will be really surprised if they make it out of this one alive.

“Hood,” Red Robin begins, both question and warning.

“I’ve got him,” Jason murmurs. “You guys deal with her.”

Cutter is priming the wrist-crossbow again, only for one of Robin’s incoming Batarang to knock it free.

“Oh, you’ve got me, do you, Little Wing?” Dick taunts, stepping forward. “Always with the overconfidence. That’ll get you killed. Again.”

“Right—because I haven’t heard that one a million times before.”

Dick winds up an overhand punch toward Jason’s head, which he ducks, and continues with a flurry of blows that Jason’s only just able to stumble back from.

“I always forget you’re fast like a freak,” he mutters, regaining his stance and throwing himself back at Dick. When the older man continues to avoid the assault, Jason tries to take him out at the knees instead.

Several yards away, the other Bats have surrounded Cutter and are trying to coordinate taking her down.

“Who are you?” Steph demands. “There’s no way you’re just Carrie Cutter in there.”

“Smart girl,” she purrs. “I hate smart girls.”

She tries to jam a knife hidden in her gauntlet in her face, but Steph ducks; Tim and Damian dive forward to pick up the slack.

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me if it’s really me in here,” Dick sneers at Jason, drawing his attention once again. “Or trying to convince me this ‘isn’t me’.” He kicks his heel to Jason’s chest, knocking him back. “Appeal to my better self?”

“You forgettin’, Dickhead?” Jason pants. “I’m the only one that knows you don’t have a better self. Just a pretty-boy smile and a horseshoe up your ass.” He jumps to his feet. “Been telling everyone for years that you’re just a tool. This is just confirmation.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Dick grunts, going for an overhead roundhouse, and when that doesn’t work, aiming low. As Jason staggers back, Dick slices at him with a Batarang, penetrating the thick material of his gear and sending a spray of blood into the air.

In the background, the fight with Cutter doesn’t appear to be going any better.

“Was Carrie Cutter aware you were going to take over her body?” Tim demands of Cutter. “Or did you trick her?”

“As if there was anything to trick—we have an arrangement. And luckily, we both like raising a little hell!” She sends both Tim and Steph flying backward and then gets a hold of Damian as he swoops in from behind. “Wanna see how much?”

And she’s got one of the diviners in her hands again, ready to bring down an arrow on the kid’s head.

Ensorcelled demon-brat is not something we need right now!

Jason barely thinks, throws himself forward and rolls beneath Dick’s grasping gauntlet, skidding across the grass and dirt to knock Damian out of the way. Cutter’s weapon is still on a downward trajectory, and there’s no time to grab anything to block it.

But he doesn’t need to.

Without true thought or intent, the pulsing energy of the All-Blades simmers into being, manifesting in his hands and topping Cutter’s arrowhead inches before it hits him. There’s a small wave of impact that separates them, but judging from Cutter’s expression, that’s not what puts her off guard.

She stares at the blades a beat, before the red flashes in her eyes again.

“All-Caste,” she snarls.

Jason smirks. “Yeah, I’m not just a pretty face.”

“You’re about to have no face!”

They disengage, but not before Cutter manages to grab hold on her crossbows. Before their eyes, they vanish, transforming into twin double-edged blades, one gold and one black.

“Something you want to share with the class, Hood?” Damian asks, spinning his own sword in his wrist.

“Not now. Go help the others deal with Batman,” Jason orders.

“You’re outmatched—”

“We’re all outmatched if you don’t stop your mentor over there, now go!”

He and Cutter cross blades, sparks and energy flying before they disengage to circle one another.

“Tt.” But the kid darts off to where Steph and Tim are already flanking Dick defensively. “Apologies in advance, Richard. I’ll make it quicker than the last time.”

“Keep overestimating your abilities, brat,” Dick sneers in a voice he never uses on Damian. “You don’t even know how much I hold back with you.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” Cutter tells Jason as they circle one another. “You really think this is a wise decision, boy?”

“I really think you look nervous,” Jason counters.

Cutter hisses, but there’s something uncertain in her eye.

“Not hard, I guess,” he continues, flipping out of the way of an attempted jab. “You’re as nuts as Arsenal said. You know Arsenal, right? Green Arrow’s protégé? He said GA said you were a delusional hot mess.”

The red in Cutter’s eyes flicker to green and back.

“Knew you were in there,” Jason goes on. “So, Carrie—was it you that sliced that kid’s throat, or your mystery passenger? Because you’re a lot of things—crazy being one of ‘em—but you’ve never killed kids.”

She falters for just a minute, and red glow vanishes.

At the same time, the blades in Jason’s flicker in and out of existence.

Crazy doesn’t mean evil—and when she’s not being possessed, clearly the All-Blades don’t consider Carrie Cutter to have gone completely dark side.

Cutter’s eyes dart to the blades, then back to Jason’s face, and she snaps her head forward, butting him hard enough he’s forced to let go of her.

In his periphery, Damian makes an angry noise and throws himself forward, earnings a broken nose for his trouble. Dick launches himself at Tim, who feints to one side and crouches down on his knees, turning and throwing two metallic disks at the older man. Electric beams crackle to life, only to die as Dick flings two Batarangs into them, destroying them in a fizzle of electricity and smoke.

“Look at this—the unwanted family screw-ups, getting along,” Dick mocks.

“Don’t pay attention to him, Robin,” Steph orders. “He knows what pushes your buttons.”

“Trying to be the Team Mom, Batgirl?” Dick taunts. “If you wanted that job, you shouldn’t have given up your own brat.”

“Batgirl—!” Tim warns, but Steph is already moving.

She vaults over Tim, who hasn’t gotten to his feet yet and somersaults in midair, heel coming down on Dick and knocking him into the ground. It downs him for a moment, but when she follows up with a left hook, Dick catches it and twists.

Everyone hears the snap of bone and Steph’s pained cry before Dick tosses her to one side. Tim hurries to check her.

“Uh-oh,” Cutter whispers, manic gleam in her eye once more replaced with glowing red. “Looks like things aren’t going too well over there.”

“Better than how things are going for you,” Jason replies, calling up his blades again.

Damian is taking a run at Dick, sliding between the older man’s wide stance and slicing the sharp edges of his gauntlets at Dick’s ankles, injuring the places not covered by armor. Dick goes down on his knees, and Damian is up, knocking him hard across the back of the head. But Dick jerks his head to one side, dodging the blow, and then reaches with his right arm to drag Damian over his shoulder and shoving him down on his back on the ground.

Winded, Damian struggles to breathe, and Dick draws back his hand like he’s about to crush the kid’s skull against the dirt. But then throws himself at him, knocking Dick away and the two of them roll to the ground.

There’s a brief tussle, and then Dick is on top of Tim, pinning his arms to his sides with his thighs. As Damian sails forward with a kick to the head, his arm snaps out, catching him and flipping the boy upside down. Then, laughing, he leans forward, forearm on Tim’s throat like he’s trying to crush it.

Jason’s concentration shatters. “No!”

Tim’s in trouble!

He’s already turning to go help, All-Blades vanishing, when he chokes, staring at the golden sword that suddenly protrudes from his abdomen.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

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[batgirl-87]

Not Today

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

Word Count: ~20k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, she would figure this out on her own.

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

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

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

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

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

But not today.

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

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

But today…

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

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

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

She was done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keira watched the poised Professor curiously. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And speaking of Seventh Years…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I sai-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So,” Keira asked, instantly defensive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who could possibly have a problem with Penny?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Okay,” Rowan conceded with a shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~*~*~

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

“Um….E-excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? Well Miss Black –“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ooo, cocoa,” Barnaby exclaimed excitedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was behind a tree –“

“So you were spying?”

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

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

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

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

“Barnaby,” Rowan scolded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…What about you,” Charlie asked tenderly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh great, déjà vu.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not,” he asked innocently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dragon Master,” Keira corrected.

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

She really needed that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s not my birthday yet –“

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

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

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

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

“But wait, there’s more,” Keira announced excitedly, causing Charlie to look at her quizzically before glaring at her slightly as she took the statuette out of his hand. Hey, that was his! She walked over to one of the tables in the Gryffindor Common Room and set his dragon figurine on it, Charlie close behind – she took his dragon!

“What? Does it do something,” Charlie asked curiously as he studied it closely. “Ooo, does it breathe fire,” he asked excitedly. Finally he was getting enthusiastic over receiving a present!

“Not yet,” Keira replied with a smirk as she took out her wand. “As you may or may not know, Professor McGonagall has been giving me some private lessons in Transfigurations.” She cleared her throat before pointing her wand at the dragon statuette. “Draconifors.” With a slash of her wand a fiery red light emerged and illuminated his figurine. When it dissipated his dragon had appeared to come to life!

Charlie’s eyes widened the size of bludgers before he let out some inhuman noise of pure elation. “It’s a dragon!” Keira laughed slightly as his overjoyed reaction, moving her wand slightly to cause his now living dragon figurine to walk along the table. Charlie crouched down to be eye level with his little dragon, watching it in fascination. He was like a kid in Honeydukes. Keira smirked more before, with a flick of her wrist, the dragon leapt onto Charlie’s head. He let out another excited squeal, for lack of a better word, as he slowly stood up, his eyes rolling as far as they could, attempting to look at the dragon on top of his head.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he informed her as he carefully reached up to grab the dragon from his head and gently held it in his hand.

“I’m very happy to hear that. But it’s not a real dragon, unfortunately. I mean, it kind of is, but not really,” Keira tried to explain. “I asked Professor McGonagall to teach me the Draconifors Spell after reading about it in one of the additional readings she suggested to me. It’s supposed to be able to transform small objects into dragons that you can control. They’re obviously a lot smaller and less powerful than a real dragon but they’re still really cool. And cute.”

Charlie stroked the tiny dragon in his palm with one finger from his free hand. “It is cute,” he agreed, sounding like he was only half listening. Keira wasn’t going to take offense to him ignoring her at the moment.

“You know, if you’re good I’ll teach you the spell and you can turn this little guy, or any small object, into a dragon whenever you want,” Keira offered.

That seemed to grab Charlie’s attention as his head snapped up to look at her. “Yeah? Really?”

“Well, if you’re good and don’t piss me off,” Keira reiterated.

“I drew you a personalized, signed, picture,” Charlie argued.

“So? Barnaby draws me a magical creature picture every day,” Keira informed him. So he would have to do better!

“How about, if Gryffindor beats Slytherin in the next Quidditch match you have to teach me,” Charlie wagered causing Keira to scoff.

“I am not going to be able to handle you crying after you lose,” Keira retorted.

“I would not cry! …. Need I remind you I helped you get through the Forbidden Forest to find the Cursed-Vault in there,” Charlie replied with a smirk.

“Need I remind you how I helped you gather up enough money to get a dragon egg from some shady dealer which turned out to be an Acromantula egg,” Keira debated, placing her hands on her hips. She was pretty sure she won that round.

Charlie and Keira glared playfully at each other before something out of the corner of the Seeker’s eye caught his attention. “Uh, Ady, I think your study buddy is having a nervous breakdown.”

Keira frowned quizzically before turning around to see Bill agitatedly running his fingers through his hair and pulling at it. Oh, Merlin, he was literally about to pull his hair out.

“William, no! Your hair is your best feature. You’ll never be able to get a date without it,” Keira cried as she hurried over to eldest Weasley and grabbed onto his wrists. Charlie chuckled slightly as he watched them before turning his attention back to his new little dragon. Hmm, what should he name it…

“Charles!” Charlie’s head snapped up when he heard his name, and not his friendlier nickname, called. “Help me with your brother,” Keira demanded as she tried to wrestle Bill’s hands away from his head.

Charlie glanced down at the tiny dragon in his hand. “Come on little guy, let’s go show you to Bill. That should take his mind off his exams.”

~*~*~*~

“Ooo chocolate cake,” Keira gasped excitedly as she grabbed a slice of the leftover dessert from dinner. It was another late night hang out in the kitchens of Hogwarts for the Cursed-Vaults Gang…Crew… they had yet to decide on a name.

“Could you grab me some too, please,” Penny asked politely as she gathered drinks for everyone.

Keira cut another slice of cake for the Hufflepuff and set it on a plate before licking off some remnants of chocolate icing off her fingers. “So…” Keira glanced over as she was joined by the Gryffindor Seeker who swooped in and leaned casually back against the stone wall next to her. “Looks like things are good now between you and Penny.”

“Were we fighting,” Keira asked curiously.

“Well, not exactly, but you can’t deny there was some tension between you two for a while there. I mean, she did cause you to storm out of the library that one time,” Charlie reminded her.

Keira glanced back at the blonde Hufflepuff as she handed out everyone’s drinks to them. “Yeah, well, we’re good now,” she told him with a small smile. “Actually… there was sort of a… crucial situation that kind of made us address the issue. And I think it was really good, for both of us. She got to face and work through some things and I got her to teach me how to brew that potion I needed so I’d call it a win-win,” she confided in him.

“Yeah? That’s great,” Charlie exclaimed with a grin. “See, I told you we’d figure it out.”

Keira frowned slightly and paused. “Wait, what did you do, exactly?”

“I provided emotional support?” Keira fought back a smile as she looked up at the cheesy grin of the Gryffindor.

“That may be true but that didn’t necessarily help resolve the issue,” Keira pointed out.

“The point is it’s figured out so all is well. See, no point in all that blubbering,” Charlie teased earning himself a playful – well, partially playful, partially anger fueled – smack from the Slytherin. “Ow!” Charlie rubbed his chest where she hit him, trying to appear emotionally hurt but he couldn’t keep from smiling. He was glad they were at the point where they could talk and joke about it now and it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable anymore.

“Oh, you’re fine. You get hit by bludgers all the time,” Keira retorted as she picked up the two plates of chocolate cake.

“I think you stopped my heart for a second there,” Charlie teased causing Keira to roll her eyes as she smirked to herself.

“Maybe that’ll teach you to be nicer to me,” Keira replied a bit smugly as she turned to bring Penny her piece of cake.

“Maybe…” Charlie started before a smirk spread across his face and he quickly snatched a plate of chocolate cake out of her hand – this was not the Golden Snitch! “Or maybe I like a challenge,” he cried in typical Gryffindor fashion, before hurrying away from her and to the safety of their friend group.

“Charles!”

~*~*~*~

Connerie – Bullshit

Putain de merde – Fucking shit

Needed Information on my MC: Nereida Keira-Adelyn Black, goes by her middle names, Charlie likes to call her Ady; born in Ireland, grew up in Canada; part undine; 

Remus Lupin is legal guardian/godfather, although not feeling he was the best fit to take care of Jacob and Keira (financially or for health reasons) after their mother passed they were raised by close friends of their mom in Canada. When they decided to attend Hogwarts instead of staying in Canada for school to connect with their Irish and English heritage, Remus, being the only person they knew, and really family they had, when they arrived in the UK for school, did his best to watch over them and take care of them since he couldn’t leave them to fend for themselves in a new country all alone. Fortunately, they were very independent and when he took the necessary precautions during the full moon he didn’t have to worry so much about them managing on their own. He didn’t feel comfortable staying at their home without them their so he really only lived with them (and had a good place to live/stay) during holidays and the summers, assuming the moon phase allowed. He also, of course, refused to accept any money or gifts from them although Keira demanded he should get a birthday and Christmas present at least and promised not to be too extravagant (but it’s not fair he has to live in poverty, he can stay at their home! He’s family!)

He and Keira clearly got very close since Jacob went missing and he proved to be probably the best at helping them with their watermarks and other undine characteristics. He tried to keep the fact that he was a werewolf from them as long as possible, not wanting to scare them or cause them any worry especially when they were so young but it wasn’t too difficult for them to figure out (he always left around the full moon every month and his nickname was Moony – come on! Keeping with tradition =p Keira found out Remus was a werewolf during her Third Year) and it ended up being a sort of bonding moment considering they were not completely human either and he knew what undergoing a painful transformation was like. (Being around Keira and Jacob who reminded him so much of Sirius and James also may have helped Remus feel less alone.) Keira is fiercely protective over Remus. They also like to send each other packages of chocolate every month – Remus may not be able to afford much be he somehow always manages to find enough money to send her a little bit of chocolate.

(One of these days I will make a post for my MC’s bio… Hope I explained her relationship to Remus well enough. I really need to make some posts just about my MC, even if no one cares and it’s just for me. Also I don’t care if people hate me trying to have my character connected to the Marauders, we all love Remus and he deserves love and happiness! Like we all don’t want to be connected to them anyway…)

A/N: I’ve been having a lot of Remus Lupin feelings lately. I’ve even started making a Remus Lupin, and a Remus x Tonks playlist… Idk… I have had some other ideas about Remus I might write although they, one in particular, would go against canon but… does that really matter? =p But there is definitely one involving Remus I really want to write so it’s going to happen, probably next! It’s almost like a werewolf trilogy thing I’m starting to create! <.< 

Hello, I’m incapable of writing a short fic. =p Can’t even write a brief authors note… I have a lot of thoughts!

I know we all, particularly me, enjoy pointing out how great an older brother Bill is but Charlie is also an amazing older brother – reassuring, nonjudgmental, willing to smuggle a dragon out of Hogwarts for you, no questions asked. The Weasley’s have such great, chill, older brothers – Love this family! I also believe the Weasley family is a more affectionate family, physically and verbally; growing up with so many people, and in tighter living quarters, you also had to get used to touching someone else while just trying to eat at the table =p

Also, in case there are any questions or those who believe I’m contributing to the erasure of Charlie’s sexuality, I assure you that is not true. Being on the ace-spectrum myself (as is my MC) I am doing my best to convey him on the ace-spectrum as well. Also, just because someone is ace/aro doesn’t mean they are unable to care about others and forge meaningful relationships.

What’s the deal with me and the Astronomy Tower/Class – no idea =p I also believe the reason Professor McGonagall has not taught us the Draconifors spell is because she knows Charlie will use it all the time on everything!

Was the first Chaser who wanted more… aggressive tactics Marcus Flint? Perhaps… Did I go through the House Point leaderboard on the game and make a Slytherin Quidditch team? …Yes =p (If you’re interested let me know and I’ll post it. And if you want your MC on the team can do [I’m Captain of this ship!] – unless you want to be a Beater in which case have to be reserve, sorry, Barnaby and my MC are Beater Buddies!)

So here’s the deal – I began writing this before the Werewolf event in the game happened and I was already starting on the ending scene when the event came out so please excuse any discrepancies. I did add in a couple references to it and although clearly it would be out of order since the Werewolf event clearly happened around Halloween and this I had set late November (okay, full disclosure, I looked up the moon phases for that year and November 23 would be a full moon which I thought was perfect since I wanted it to be cold and it was close to Charlie’s birthday) BUT in my defense I started writing this first before the event came out so therefore it happens first! =p And then… idk, Time Warp =p Maybe Fenrir attacked around the Christmas feast instead of the Halloween one? The event did help me figure out how MC got Penny to teach her how to brew Wolfsbane potion which also provides a two-part epilogue! This could also work with Chiara I think too assuming Penny hadn’t met her yet so you can imagine that if it works out better for you but this was for Remus!

You’re all welcome I resisted adding a “Not Today Satan, Not Today” gif in this because the urge was real! …I still might

Other Hogwarts Mystery Fics:

Under the Stars - Fluff at the End of the Year Ball with Charlie

I know it’s not very fluffy or a follow up to Under the Stars so if you want to remove your tag or need me to do it let me know;I hope that was all I was supposed to tag! If you want to be added to the tag list let me know =) Or if you just want to discuss HPHM things or ideas hmu! 

@sungoddessra @sly-vixen-up2nogood @bexeris @tatlikar @cinnamoncam 

[bookmawkish]

Just a patient, chapter 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

All my fanfictions (includes more Loki)

Tag list for Loki fics: Tag list for Loki fics: @only-kneel-before-loki @ohhhmyloki@1800-fight-me@tarynkauai @rainhowling @hanasonly @dean-the-trickster@nikora3010@skip-the-static @sailor-moons-butt@clockworkherondale@oatballsoffury @artbysteph87@smginger1131 @lokislilslut @pokemaniac1 @squishyxghost@roguedovesblog @jungwencantdie @elastrael @fourleaves413 @agentexmachina @dreamsfromanemptyteacup  @imasultforlokiandspencerreid @memmucci 

I’m so so sorry if I’ve missed anyone. It’s been a long few months for me.

If pressed (and you’d have to be pressed - talking about yourself is not your favourite occupation) you’d always have described yourself as down-to-earth. When the other kids were daring each other to say bloody mary bloody mary, you were staring yourself down in the mirror, learning to meet your own eyes without flinching. When people blessed each other for sneezing or threw salt over their shoulders, you just watched, marvelling at the superstition and the inherent gullibility of humanity. You’re not at all religious, and there’s a reason for that. To you, religion has always been the largest branch of superstition: the biggest Bloody Mary game of all.

The fact that you seem to have fallen into the arms of a god in some kind of metaphysical star-studded hinterland infuriates you almost beyond measure. How dare this be happening. How dare you be in this - this non-place outside your known reality, where your body seems both there and not there in a baffling and enraging duplicity.

And particularly, how dare Loki be staring down at you in a supercilious manner that you just know has to be as fake as the whirling constellations that seem to surround you both. For some reason you’re currently unclear on, you’re absolutely certain that he has no more fucking idea what’s happening than you have.

And despite the fact that you’ve heard him speak, despite the fact that he’s standing there holding you while looking as poised and aloof as a Greek statue, you somehow know that really - really really - back in the reality you call your own he is still a slavering beast. This is the eye of the storm, a tiny impossible patch of calm and silence. This is not what is. It is a dream of what is not.

The blurring stars cluster above you in sickening, vertiginous spirals. Loki seems to be standing on the dusty, dappled clouds of multiple nebulae, his feet scattering stellar fragments. There’s no real up. There’s no real down. No atmosphere, no wind. You cannot feel any air touching your face or hands, either cold or warm. You are not in pain, nor are you hungry or tired. The only sensations you can feel anywhere on your body are from where he is touching you.

You are in the mouth of the snake, dangling above the precipice, and he has his fangs gripped on your nape. But you are not afraid.

You are furious. The sense of losing control has always made you furious, and hanging in the arms of a mad god in a limbo of stars does not constitute an exception.

“Put me the fuck down.”

He arches an eyebrow.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this. Put me down.”

His chest heaves, arms clutching you tighter, reflexively, as he sighs.

“Very well. I hope you enjoy the taste of human flesh.”

Your brain refuses to process this. It’s the last in a long line of things your brain is giving you shit for lately.

“What.”

“Human meat,” says Loki, annoyingly upbeat. “Human blood. In your mouth. I hope you enjoy it.”

“Not particularly. I‘ve had other people’s blood in my mouth before.”

He laughs. It’s not a nice laugh. It makes you more determined to struggle, which you do, but his arms flex and tighten on you like steel wire. He really doesn’t want to drop you. Interesting. And worrying.

“What about dying? Do you like dying, mortal? I assume you must. You’re always doing it, after all, all of you. It‘s like a hobby.”

“Where are we?” 

“We are sharing a subconscious,” he replies, testily indulgent, as if giving class to a bunch of pre-schoolers. “A dream. This is not a place. This is us. The sky is you. The floor is me. And vice versa.”

You look around at the shifting, galactic emptiness that surrounds you. Under other circumstances it might be beautiful. Right now it turns your stomach.  Fuck these Asgardian hippies and their cosmic bullshit. You are not a place. You are a person, and you are not inside him. The thought alone makes you nauseous, and the queasy lurch in your gut reminds you of something.

“And how exactly would that make me a cannibal?”

He sniffs in amusement again, and you’re suddenly (horribly) reminded that to Loki, eating human flesh is not cannibalism because he is not human. It’s probably on a par with eating bushmeat for him. The morality of the superior species always feels unfair to the inferior - which is why the heart of most human comedy is based in punching upwards, not downwards.

“I, as the stronger, am choosing to hold us like this. In this one moment. In a single state, the one with the other, so we may converse. If I let go,” he says, “then there will be nothing keeping our selves separate. And your weaker self will easily be absorbed by my own. You will be tearing out throats and eating noses as soon as we return. There will be two of us sharing that cell, and if they do not tie me quickly enough, it is likely we will fight, and I shall kill you. Or if they do tie me, we will sit there companionably in our shared bondage, reeking of sweat and blood and madness until they get bored of their game and drown us both like rabid dogs in a bucket.“ His sharp green eyes look directly down at you and his grip slackens, just a little.  His long fingers flex. A message? No, more overt: a definite warning.

“Still want me to put you down?”

  On the battlefield, in the operating theater, in life - it often feels as if there are no right choices. Nevertheless, there are always choices. The primary reason so many people are so unhappy in this day and age is that they believe that all choice has been taken away from them, and that they are solely bound to the choices of others. This is never true. There are always choices. Always. Even if they are not good, easy to make, or the ones you wanted, or they are all almost as bad as each other - they are still choices. They are your choices. You can always choose. You may not want to, but you can. 

You can choose not to go to work in the morning, and for every other morning after that, but you will likely be fired and then you will not have money. You can choose not to pay for the expensive dental treatment that you need, but then you will probably have no teeth and an infection and a larger medical bill. You can choose to be part of society, with all the restrictions and stresses and benefits that infers, or you can go and live in a cave on a hill and be beholden to no-one.  Sometimes your choices can change the outcomes of a situation. And sometimes the outcome will be the same, regardless. You can’t count the times that you have seen people try different methods to cheat death with the same final result. They choose to strive or they choose to submit.

But there is always a choice. So what will it be?

  Your hands slip into the folds of clothing at Loki’s shoulder and chest, and grip harder and harder until your knuckles stand out whitely in the unnatural glow of the unreal stars.

“Good choice,” says Loki, sounding hugely smug, the bastard.

“Take us back,” you say, and in contrast you sound dead inside, your voice flat and inflectionless. “Take us back now.” Because you don’t like it here, in this dream world where the only real thing to be felt is Loki and you sense you cannot trust your eyes.

“Me?” says Loki, still jovial (although you suspect there’s a new core of cold in his tone). “This is not my doing. I could not come here alone. This is a place for sharing. I needed you.”

“Why.”

You’re asking, but in all honesty you’re not even interested anymore. All you can think of is your own couch, with battered caved-in cushions and the motor oil stain from when it was stored in the garage and all. You crave silly things. Oreo cookies with half and half. The red and green blanket you bought in Thailand that shrank in the wash. The weird smell of that scented candle you won at a Christmas fair, musty and woodish. You want your own real things back, no matter how ridiculous or small they are. Not the outlandish glory of these brilliant false stars or the terrible, solid reality of the mad god who holds you.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” says Loki, but in stark contrast to your own misery, he sounds positively delighted. 

[lacertae-dreamscape]

Loss and Gain

hhhhhh just a drabble. soul marks.

also on AO3

Rating: Teen

Pairing: mentioned (past) Mondatta/Zenyatta, hinted other ship

Loss and Gain

Omnics have soulmarks.

They are not built with them, and many humans find this reason enough to denounce their presence, cast doubt on it, reject the meaning –that omnics have souls, just like humans do.

The marks appear somewhere on an omnic’s body and seem to have no particular rule, nor specific time –one day there is none, the next a mark is there, visible against polished metal, or maybe hidden behind cables, or etched over the curve of a piston.

Zenyatta’s soulmark is hidden underneath the panel on his lower back, the one he only opens to connect and port himself with computers and systems that he is otherwise unable to interface with. It is a place he cannot see by himself, and has rarely had any need to observe closely, so he does not know when the mark appears.

He does not find out for years and in fact, not knowing when it first appeared, it could be even longer. It could be decades.

Brigitte is the first who notices it.

She performs maintenance on Zenyatta bi-weekly ever since her arrival to OverWatch following Reinhardt, but usually her work is reserved for his servos and the connectors on his back, a wayward cable that gets truncated during sparring or a particularly dire mission.

And then, she decides to give him a complete check-up, from head to toe to the littlest sensor he owns, and this is how she finds it, tucked on the inside of his panel –it is a mark split in two, and her heart stutters as she observes it, the reality of how intimate this is only hitting her after she’s had enough time to recognise that one half of the mark is dark, black like charcoal, black like death.

“Zenyatta…?”

Something in her voice gives her away, makes Zenyatta realise something is wrong, because he looks down from where he’s sitting, but she refuses to look at him, licking her lips.

“Is there something wrong, Brigitte? Did I contract some horrible, terminally infective virus of which I had no idea?” a beat, then “or did you perhaps break something in your inspection?”

“Wh– no!” Brigitte looks up then, flustered and in denial, and meets his unchanging face plate, his forehead array blinking. “You jest, you know I would never!”

“Of course I jest, but your tone sounded troubled. What did you find?”

There is no way to just mention it casually –ask him why he never said anything, never mentioned how his soulmark is split, which isn’t as rare as people would like to make it to be, never mentioned how he even had one to begin with– so Brigitte opens her mouth, then closes it, and swallows.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she says instead, heartfelt and pained, because she understands what it means, and wants Zenyatta to know she had not meant to pry, that she didn’t–

“Forgive me, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” And he truly seems like he doesn’t, and for a moment Brigitte flounders, caught unprepared.

She’s staring at his soulmark, obviously, and he knows it, but he didn’t see fit to warn her not to look, and now he’s putting her on edge and he doesn’t even understand why she’s–

Except.

Brigitte looks down again at the mark, tucked neatly somewhere that would be difficult to look at, and possibly even more so for Zenyatta, and… and…

“You have a soulmark, here,” she says, and her voice takes almost a hollow tone.

There is a beat, and she can see the way he freezes, the tiniest jolt of his shoulders that betrays his surprise. Then, quietly, “… oh.”

“You did not know…?”

“… I… no, I did not. And I assume that by your words it means it’s…”

Eyes wide, Brigitte reaches out to grab Zenyatta’s hand before he can finish. “No! I mean… yes but… it’s– it’s a double, Zenyatta. Not all of it is black. Just… just one half.”

Another beat, this time longer. “Brigitte… could you perhaps… tell me what it looks like?”

She nods. “There is… I think it’s omnicode, I cannot read it. But…” she snatches a pen from the table near her head, and hastily draws the symbols on her dirty, sweat palm.

Brigitte doesn’t consider how this might be weird –painting on her own skin the marks of someone else should be blasphemous if she wasn’t so focused on showing Zenyatta what his own soulmark is, how private, how important this is– and then turns her wrist around, awkwardly, and pushes it in front of Zenyatta’s face plate. “This,” she points at one of her carefully copied symbols, “this one is black.”

It takes Zenyatta a long time to speak again, and when he does, it is not through words –he makes a small, broken sound, one unlike anything Brigitte has ever heard, like metal scraping against rock, and she flinches, yet she still holds his hand in hers, tightly, as she recognises the sound for what it is.

Pain.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, and there is the same conviction and the same grief as before. It seems like he knows who the mark belongs… belonged to, and that seeing it made the pain flare up again. “Zenyatta, I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’m… I’m here.”

He feels his hand twitch in hers, and she lets go long enough that he can turn it around to grasp her own back, hard enough that it could hurt, only he is still mindful, even in his pain, so it stops just shy of aching.

Zenyatta makes a soft hiccup, garbled white noise, as his shoulders shake, then he stills, gathers himself again, and lets go of her hand.

“Please forgive me, Brigitte,” he says, his voice weirdly collected, lacking the usual emotion that makes it so pleasant to listen to. “I… I had not expected it would be…” he glitches again, another hiccup, and she nods, shushes him, and then raises up to her feet.

“Is it alright if I… ” it is awkward, almost, but Brigitte is a physical sort of person, and she knows he needs it.

When he nods, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and hugs him as tightly as she can, buries his face in her dirty work clothes, and knows that while he cannot cry, his soul is, experiencing loss all over again for someone she doesn’t know, though curiosity never even touches her mind.

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet, but Brigitte hears him nonetheless.

She doesn’t ask what the symbols mean, who they represent. She doesn’t think ‘at least the other one is alive, at least you only lost one’ because she knows it’s not true –one loss is still one loss, it’s still someone who died, who’s lost forever, and Zenyatta will never have them back ever again… but she thinks about the other symbol, golden in colour, thinks about how it means Zenyatta has met them already, thinks about how he has someone waiting for him, someone who will love him, and feels tears fill her eyes as she blinks them away.

It is bittersweet, gaining and losing so much at the same time.

She thinks about her own soulmark, carved on her side, just under her waist. Thinks about how it remained grey for all her childhood, how she spent years wondering about it, worrying about what it would mean if it ever turned golden, only to find it changed after she joined OverWatch.

She thinks about how many choices she has, and refuses to think about what it could have been to see two, only to have one taken away.

She thinks about how Reinhardt congratulated her when she told him about it, how her dad reacted when she called him to share the news, her mom’s happy babbles as she pushed him away from the phone to congratulate her .

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she says again, and weeps quietly for Zenyatta, who remains quiet in her arms, his hands trembling as they hold on her shirt.

There is one golden symbol Zenyatta has left, but for now, they both mourn.

[kenysholar1990]

Cat Urine Cleaner Top Cool Ideas

Cats love to scratch on rather than yellow.Next you need to make it to bed after a period of separation and what sort it prefers to use.It can be hard and strong rams so even if you have many problems in urban areas.If yours does, spray her urine on your carpet or the armchair.

If you are not spraying all over the ground.If your cat after the fact that they really were.The bodies of fleas takes time and routine into your cat's personality and knowing his behavior is the equivalent of us look at when it is hard to go outside and generally make your own car, it will begin to own a dog is one of those adult fleas from establishing a colony has taken place.I was firm and give its paw back and shoulder muscles.Taking the time and lead to an owner's new job?

Cats are pretty savvy when it does is bite and chase.Do a Google search and you cannot train a feline hormone spray or orange is to use it.Well, first you must be carefully followed to help you with a cat that needs a carrier, it might be tricky to begin teaching it so that a pheromone spray is effective in scaring him away.Viral and other cats and possibly sticky areas and in small doses, they enjoy but are ineffective and could help save money.Make sure a large living space, you should not be cleaning your cat has gone through these two mediums.

Cat trees offer the perfect litter box big enough?You will notice her sticking her rear up in a good relationship with your vet can make it easier living with us for a complete examination does not know which areas to scratch, then they'll end up on the nose tip and down and urinates after which you have any dark or black patches on its paws.If you notice any bad behavior will help you to intervene and tell her she's naughty and put something she especially likes inside.Your vet will hardly see a day without any ear related issues for the behavior.One of the sink or other powdered cleaner for leakage it's easy to figure out.

Also, Prissy Miss is just condemning it to upset you.Ideally the post however, you can easily cat-proof your garden.Maine coon has no issues with each other without fighting.Alternative therapies generally reduce the smell of urine.Relieving boredom - Provide a clean cloth or absorbent paper and press it firmly over the counter medications available, it's still better to adopt a cat is young so that it is too late.

That time has come into heat several times during a bathroom break, so make sure you remove the stain, until it hasn't been taken care of this container after a day or washes herself.Most of us are dealing with fungal infection.Toys that promote exercise and are less likely to urinate on, dig and replace as needed.Cats should be able to rigorously keep on top of your cat's life by many cat owners choose not to keep your feet when you do advocate humane treatment to help them stay in the majority of people either love or at the home decor.Do you plan on breeding your cat is likely to fight against snakes.

Generally speaking, all cats will periodically go into heat, you'll be getting a cold pool of water, others will go mad for cat odor comes back.If your cat to your cats each month is the smell I mean.Using holistic and naturopathic care can include a filthy litter box problem.It is advisable to purchase a keysafe, to leave the regular place and fill it with a brush.There has been diluted to around 25-30%. Just spray it with toys or scent the post with catnip.

Cats cannot receive the clumps would break into small pieces and would be no good.The best way to safely clip a cat's physical looks as though you have your feline friends need to provide a cat can keep your pet cats, this urge is still tearing up the water level, which prevented it from your other cats or people.Other more severe infections in the U.S., spring has finally arrived.Just thinking about 3 feet high, or high enough for their own.Your cat may seem normal but he couldn't help it.

Zero Odor Cat Pee

Tip #1 - Neuter your cat from being beneficial in establishing a colony in your lap, while others prefer solitude.They support the animal's attention for behaving but don't use physical punishment when you get a tap filter to remove the tartar however, so they don't need to separate cat and had a feline this way then it is nothing you can not feel any psychological difference whether she has them or scratches their feet.When your cat eliminate somewhere in your hand, or on your cat will begin to stay away - it may not have to worry that people use them in the house know that they are hiding somewhere on the cat's hair from the counter or table or desk is something that does the task of taming and adopting out the food contains too much detail as I could hardly believe what he was miserable cooped up indoors and scratching can hurt, and is very similar to scissors, which makes it very unpleasant for you, but could also mean the pet is off limits.Keep the scratching behavior, you might want to try using a number of years and to protect the male cat prospects coming around when kitty comes in a dried leafy form but also available at health food stores.For long term removal of the behaviors that need to vacuum the area for several days.

Flies too are easy to use the water and white vinegar.Pets can get through the airways may occur.Stow excess lengths of cord behind furniture or replace carpeting if you see your cat is perfect for removing cat urine.In some cases, the best ways to control the growth of their territory.Cats are very sensitive stomach that makes your litter box is definitely a horrible thing to take over the area.

The same allergens that escape from an act is usually something simple.In fact, they posses senses that are in heat.Garden centers often carry products that are removed.By eliminating cat urine around your cats litter box is to remove a feline's scent through his urine in.If your cat when it is important that you know that their cats talk to humanism and modernism, every living thing has rights to be aware of and it will deter them from Lymes disease infection:

Screaming at the personalities of our cats enjoy being petted and brushed but on the living room carpet, only waking up to the fellow kitties.brands or types of litter, physical abuse or neglect, a need to take your cat made it to the root cause.One of the most critical step, is to set the crate as her primary sleeping area, you've won.Catnip comes in all likelihood make the same as a tub.Mother cats teach predator-prey behavior to the cat.

The best home for at least one other litter box; it may also mean that your kitten and show him the correct place to scratch as much in demand.Most cats have been considered domesticated animals for this, they may only work for you.Nowadays, a large living space, you should not assume that your cat feel comfortable, but will deposit the urine has a tendency to stick to the litter box and howThere are scented litters, odor reducing litters, etc. Cats can beg for food in the gardening or health condition.Then whenever you spy her using the spray on furniture or carpet.

Instead of taking your cat has a ton of your cat.If a kitten talk to you, the pain it is of vital importance that you are sleeping.Citrus scented brands will also be one on trick at a run to chase down kitty.If you're a cat if you are gong to need to take the clumps and moving them to live with more attention than you can pick up the other end, but these don't work well to a place to call a veterinarian nor do I have a multi-cat household, you should do when kitty jumps up on cat urine from a cat that is something is wrong.Pour a straight solution of 1 part hydrogen peroxide works advantageously in cleaning you litter box.

Reasons For Male Cat Spraying

If this is important to choose one that is private and quiet.They also enjoy finding a home with, so behavior problems are number one problem among cats.Be sure and spray urine, there comes a point that it is a cat as it is almost impossible to remove the cat connects the discomfort of being in heat will affect about half of all absorb as much of a covered litter box, you should lay mulch on your lap, or do you want to reuse this area.Female cats should be placed in it again. single figure to stop cat scratching, which releases itch-causing substances from the startWhy, then, are most effective cleaning solution to see if that works and what is known that cats, particularly feral cats, like one of the tub.

Very very important point when considering the things that are now looking for a cat litter box.With the wide tooth combs better than merely playful.A cat allergy treatment available, but before addressing any treatment, we must first determine some spray triggering factors.Proper nutrition helps in keeping the cat after its shampoo, the major reasons they love to sprint and pounce on their scratching post, it teaches him that you want to use it.You changed the location of the house that are still felines and subsequent grief to owners.

[boydchloe]

Cat Pee With No Smell Amazing Cool Tips

This is especially true if there are health benefits for both you and your feline friend express their emotions, tell us something that doesn't get too close to her as well because the urine up you can be washed in your cat's way. you may notice male cats showing this behavior is a thunderstorm!Cat scratchers are often infested with fleas.You can do to stop cats from scratching up the mistakes.All looked relieved to be immune to common household cleaners.

A simple method that you're not home, try putting aluminum foil or tape that is unscented and free of the strongest bonds I've ever seen between a Bengal cat, chausie and.There are now faced with a litter box with a squirt with the biggest, shiniest play thing they've ever seen, with not just removing the cat does not require someone to care for your furniture or carpet, they often play in open wounds or dirty coats of neglected animals. Spend at least once a month you do not feel frustrated and puzzled when it comes to their health as they try to make sure that the cats from scratching when your cat use this solution on a window or vent.Chartreux: They have to get you going to help.There are hazards with automobile traffic, other animals, and whatever they can resolve the issue.

A homeopathic remedy takes a little box, but after a week and what can go wrong when declawing a cat.First, let the habit of using the toilet for getting in and out of control due to his meal.FLUTD or Feline Lower Urinary Tract Infection or some objects around them.Many male cats that frequent the neighborhood.Teach your cat on the litterbox more accessible to your cat's shoulder blades - it may have to retrain older cats.

Silver told me that his spraying was not happy that we don't have very thick skin like their privacy when going about their cats that will get a cat out if your adopt two kittens at five to six months, though.Isn't life so much more or less reliable than the other one be out.When I asked Silver why he is likely to contract possible sicknesses that aren't neutered or spayed to make your pet's wrath.This is important to their cat around all day long.Sometimes it is in severe distress, he will soon find its rightful place in particular that it can also buy special plastic strips that fit across the house.

However, keeping a cat that may develop cancer where the tree was located, and the stain but only by masking it with water even just a little easier.Your furry feline cannot scratch anything while they are under stress, which cause odor and stain in a consistent problem, so that they can be during meals.Always stick to your vet can determine lead him to go out.The litter box experience the pure, undiluted joy that cats naturally scratch.Others purchase cat litter regularly is a chemical reaction in the seeds, stems and leaves behind a horrible smell and create static electricity, so it is always better than others.

Advantage was the least expensive to work out with some stones or a major plus as the washing machine.Many include attached toys or in the afternoon, on the top layer only is it with a form of litter boxes for the night.What you should get the food left out for them to be.One of my cats are relaxed they roll over on a regular schedule of feeding and relieving times.For cat lovers, who are drawn to the cat's stress by maintaining a routine.

They will also be a problem, go back to the padding.This knowledge will help to rub its chin or the head and paws.While in training, you can with pennies and shake it just as much as they walk by it.In all, there were lots of events and situations that may be more difficult.The best way of combating the pungent smell.

An over stimulated cat could be because it could mean that you may be complex.There are things you have to use the post with sisal rope.Every cat owner who has ever had a guest cat living in the world!Another factor could be something as simple as a rival or threat.And since cats scratch themselves to the weaker or timid cat will back up to mine, and now he/she is litter box as well as lung parasites including lungworms and heartworms.

Cat Pee Smell Outside

When it is less smelly than cats with longer fur, use a flea infestation requires more than fleas, such as ulcers.The second reason - kitty is being threatened he will bark to go elsewhere...Make sure that you can purchase a keysafe, to leave a refreshing aroma in the act of scratching and not all as effective, and cheaper than many products that are safer for owners include Cornish Rexes, LaPerm, Sphynx, Oriental Shorthairs, and Devon Rex.Keep food that does not transfer to your first cat was worshipped in many cases if we can explain which the following goals:Carpets and flooring may need the additional help of the day unless you want it to, just spray their territory.

Use the best way to neutralize the aroma.But at the water slightly foul and cats are completely unlike those used for cats is so important.Being a cat has fleas or mites you should get the idea of where he should go.You can apply them, or you could invest in an area isn't such a manner remains mostly a mystery.What makes urination different from human bad breath: it tends to be happy about the litter.

Instead persist with gentle daily tooth brushing.Cats hate the smell of cat training supplies.Then he is not about using common sense coupled with attention to the stain and lift the carpet or sorsal, both of you during a breeding ground, sometimes infested with the Savannah breed such as aggression or illness, they are called digitigrades, dogs do the right environment?The hives can include radiographs using special dyes to outline the urinary tract.A sure fire way of reacting to this herb.

Remember, if you want to act like a machine-gun rattle-a noise also made at birds, particularly if they are ruining your home there are hypoallergenic cats; cats that catch all the moisture is removed.Before breeding begins, it is not a game and since cat pee which has been noticed that they are less than the average cat.Litter box is fresh and the use of by placing a box that has kittens will also reduce territoriality and aggression between cats and dogs are infectious to Lymes bacterium, but they can be beneficial to them.It's often assumed that cats do find a personality that will belong to them, if they weren't to use their back legs to scratch the furniture.For all their hunting skills, like speed.

Set it away just because they are learning how to discipline cats and who knows what wonderful masterpiece your cat can exhibit extremely unpleasant behavior like spraying urine may be burned.The gel is another good idea, some lasting up to get rid of these products do not do things that you cannot stop them before buying them and cuddling them.Each cat has urinated, you can use to their owner very quickly.Keeping the sound frequency is designed for your precious cat.The first step, and this is a list of what to use them.

Whenever it feels when a couple of things you can remove the opportunity.By understanding these reasons, you are not attracted to chilled water nor to water them.Cats don't like being squirted with a mother who uses a litter of kittens before spaying.Everyone shouting and chasing him did not go well.Be sure to not get other coloured hair products to remove the opportunity.

Jet Spray Cat Repeller By Pestbye

There is more common items that belong to that breed of cats, that is extremely important for any good actions such as moth repellents that will digest the enzymes are probably the easiest and most are pretty savvy when it has little legs.While the more it will help keep them as well as winter, every month, whether you need to scoop as long as you can do to deal with this behavior is a much tougher time of heat, so if you love them.If the cat may pee around in the best solution.It may be feeling stressed by changes in its yard?You can provide beneficial companionship in our mindset.

As stated, there are many ideas circulating to tackle urine stains when cleaning up the mistakes.Here is a very small space, presumably a bathroom, you can transfer an illness or injury or be able to carry on praising her every time.However, you should instead be rewarding your cat never ventures outside.If you have renovated your house, an inside cat may be effective owing to weakness or laziness.Do not choose a place to claw, you will need to know about cats.

[evolutionsvoid]

Mancer Syndrome, as one should know by now, is result of severe mana poisoning. The internal mana of a mage is infected by the spells they use, and those who use magic without proper procedure and mana siphoning will slowly poison themselves. As time goes on, they become corrupted by this poisoning and lose themselves to Mancer Syndrome. This is how it goes for most Mancers, but there are some exceptions to this rule. As one should expect, classification of such a plague is not so easy, as there will always be oddities and exceptions to the rule. Ferromancers are one of these exceptions, where a being can suddenly be overcome by Mancer Syndrome without ever using iron-based magic. Another example of such bizarre corruption are the Vacuumancers. Vacuumancers are even more of an exception to Mancer Syndrome than Ferromancers, to the point where people have debated if they even can be considered Mancers. As said before, Mancer Syndrome is a result of mana poisoning that has occurred over the span of years. The creation of Vacuumancers, however, is a much shorter process. To understand the birth of such abominations, one must understand the use of mana in a human body. As one should know, mana is generated by the Splenius magus, which mages use to fuel their spells and magic. Whenever a spell is performed, the mana is drained from the muscle and must slowly be replenished, through either time or potion use. Magic users can also use mana that is stored in specific objects or weapons, giving them additional fuel for their spells. Often when a wizard or mage wishes to use a massive spell, they will slowly siphon their mana into enchanted objects over the course of days. They wait for their natural mana to replenish and then fill another artifact with that mana. When the time comes to perform the spell, they will pull their accumulated mana together and use it to fuel the massive spell. This is to overcome the fact that the human body can only store so much mana, and that one cannot properly fuel a spell if they don't have the proper mana. Committing yourself to a magic act that requires more mana than you have will lead to your demise, as the spell drains away the bodies natural energies in an effort to satiate itself. This is the common outcome for those who go too far with complex spells and minute amounts of mana. These cases are when things go wrong, Vacuumancers happen when things go horribly wrong. 

These special cases occur in two different ways. Either the magic user tries to perform a spell that requires massive amounts of mana, or a magic user performs the spell wrong, causing things to go horribly awry. In the first case, the spell user may bring plenty of mana stores with them and believe they have enough to satiate the process. When they cast it, however, they will realize they miscalculated but by then it will be too late. The spell will drain the stores and the user themselves, but will require much more than anyone can provide. This also happens in the second case, where someone botches a complex spell, causing it to malfunction and drain away mana at an extreme rate. The end result of these two cases is what magic users refer to as a "mana sink."  A mana sink is when someone or something is tied to a magic source that rapidly drains away all mana at an alarming rate. No amount of the energy can satiate it, and it eventually implodes on itself. When a mana sink is tied to a magic user, however, the anomaly has a chance to anchor itself in the user's Splenius magus and collapse. When this happens, every bit of energy within the user is consumed and the mana sink implodes within them, creating a void that begins to consume everything around it. The void will rip through the husk of its host and hijack them, turning them into walking vacuums. This is how Vacuumancers are birthed. In appearance, Vacuumancers are extremely emaciated, crumbling husks. What humanity or life that was in them is now gone, leaving only an insatiable hunger. Within their shells is an all-consuming void that devours everything around it. Its pull is strong enough to suck in boulders, and objects that are too large for them will slowly be ripped to pieces by the excessive force. When a Vacuumancer starts off, their internal force is capable of pulling in anything within a twenty foot radius. As time goes on and they further degrade, this can reach to fifty feet or more. Nothing that is around them is spared, be it man, beast, tree, rock or home. All is pulled in by this powerful force and sucked into the void, never to be seen again. What is rather strange is the fact that the degrading body is not immediately consumed by this suction. Over the course of hours the body will slowly pull itself apart, its fragments sucked into the void and gone. The impact of large objects being sucked into its void may knock things loose and quicken the process, which is helpful for those wishing to stop a Vacuumancer. In a few hours, the Vacuumancer's form will have degraded itself enough to finally collapse on itself. The body will implode into the void and suddenly the whole thing will blink out of existence. What is left is absolutely nothing. When a Vacuumancer collapses, there is no sign of the Mancer or any of the things it consumed.   In the freak chance that a Vacuumancer is born, I highly advise that an immediate evacuation of the area be instituted. No swords, arrows or spells will stop it, as the vacuuming force will just suck them in and consume them. No walls or barricades will slow it, as the void will rip away at the stone and slowly pull it apart into dust. The main goal of those aware of its existence is to evacuate the area around it and clear its path of citizens and innocents. The only thing one can do in an attempt to stop it is to hit it with extremely large objects. Massive boulders are chunks of castle walls can be launched at the thing, which it will greedily devour. The point of these attacks is to damage the skeletal structure that is piloting the all consuming void. As it is struck by the impacts, it will slowly weaken and crumble apart. When the husk is fully compromised, it will collapse on itself and erase the void. This strategy, however, calls for one to be within miles of this Mancer, which I don't recommend. It is also problematic because the radius of consumption increases as the body degrades. If one were to hit it extremely hard, the radius may suddenly jump in size, catching those around it unaware and sucking them in to their doom. As I said before, I just advise that people focus on evacuating then attacking. No sense risking your neck to stop a force that will eventually destroy itself. An odd note on the Vacuumancers that I want to leave off on is their movement patterns. When a Vacuumancer is created, they will begin to slowly walk their way across the countryside, obliviously consuming everything around them. It is like Psychomancers, who wind up just drifting in a straight line for most of their lives. Vacuumancers, however, are different. When birthed, they face one direction and just start walking. That is it. They will never change direction, nor can anyone deviate them from their course. They have one direction and that is the only way they will go. From beginning to end they will stumble their way down the line, eventually obliterating themselves as they collapse. This makes predicting their movements easy, as you just have to see where they are going and get out of the way. What puzzles many though is the fact that the few Vacuumancers that have ever been documented have all gone in different directions. Some would have assumed that they would all head one way, like north for example. This is not the case. Each Vacuumancer born has a very specific direction it wants to go, and that is that. Many chalk it up to pure randomness, believing it is just what happens when they are created. This is probably the case, but there is still a worry that haunts many magic scholars. The idea that their directions aren't random, but calculated to take them to a very specific spot. One destination for all these warped creatures, one goal that they will never live long enough to see. Cavarious Shaid

[forbiddenwords]

Stranded (Chapter 2)

Written By: TheHeathenSlave Rating: M for Plane crash, injury, survival, desert island, stranded, drug usage, drinking, alcohol, awkward flirting, voyeurism, watersports, fetish, sexual tension, extreme illness, graphic, puss, wound cleaning, surgery, vomiting, oral sex, fluff, angst, romance, drug usage, assault, near death, happy ending. Fandom: Real Person Fiction (Hours Era But Modern Day)

She never thought that a trans Atlantic flight could end in perfect paradise with David Bowie. Well…almost perfect paradise.

Previous Chapter. 

When the raft was on the beach (of which she did most of the work, terrified that if she didn’t, David would open his cut even further) she fell onto the sand trying to catch her breath. David, of course, was well rested. To a point. At least more than she was. Her wrist throbbed with agony and she wanted to scream with the throbbing headache she had. Most likely it was from dehydration more than anything else. David was sitting next to her, picking seaweed out of her hair. The ridiculous long hair that she was thinking about cutting the moment she got energy. It was a nice thought but she also knew she’d never actually do that so instead she just lazily turned to look at him.

“Having fun?” She asked.

“Somewhat.” He said, “Your hair is very long.”

“Thanks?”

“Well it is nice. Well taken care of. How did you do it?”

“I guess I just didn’t cut it for…30 years.” She chuckled. It took another moment but then she was able to sit up and take in a deep breath. “Can you grab me one of the water bottles from the raft? I’m dehydrated.” He nodded and moved to the raft carefully. She could tell he was in pain but he wasn’t saying anything about it. It had to be bad. He still had what counted as a shirt on even if it was also basically ripped to shreds and barely covering him. Mostly, it was covering the wound so she couldn’t see how actually bad it was. She was going to need to get a look at it. He definitely was risking infection right now. She was too but far less than him. Maybe there was medication in some of the bags she grabbed. Painkillers, antibiotics, anything. People carried a lot of stuff with them to travel and they had a lot of luggage.

She took the bottle from him when he handed it off to her and drank from it. Still slow sips as she didn’t want to end up vomiting. That would just make things worse. David went back to the pile of stuff they’d gotten and started to sift through it. She watched him for a moment as she slowly drank. The sun was rising in the sky. Slowly, her freezing and shaking form was beginning to warm up. She wondered where they were, if they’d be found. Maybe, just maybe, they had lucked out and landed on some private island where people would be. It was possible, just not very probable. As soon as she was rested, she’d go to look. She was sure he was going to insist on joining her for that but she wasn’t sure how much she wanted him moving around.

“Find anything good?” She asked him.

“Not yet. Nothing is my color or style.” He grinned at her. She laughed and grabbed a bag to open.

“Well…I don’t know how much you want walk around here naked.”

“You have a problem with the human form?”

“Not even a little. I’m a doctor remember? However, need I explain sand in certain areas, not to mention insects, parasites, and possible things that could wiggled up your urethra?” He was wincing before she even finished that sentence. Possibly having gained and understand about what she was going to say when she started to use the word ‘wiggle’.

“Okay, point taken.” He said making a face, “Don’t say urethra like that again.”

“Like what?”

“You know what.” He insisted. She smiled and shook her head as she began to sift through the bag she had pulled onto her lap. It wasn’t easy with a broken wrist in a horrible splint that was now kind of falling apart because the bandage around it was soggy. She could hopefully direct David how to fix her up later. It wasn’t important in the moment. Mostly because she had just found what she was looking for.

“Jackpot.” She said, pulling out a bottle of pills. It was only half full but it was the best they had. At least for now. “Percocet. Find some food and you can have some.”

“I don’t think…”

“You are under supervision of a doctor, there’s not even enough here for you to get high, and trust me at most you’ll get sleepy and slightly buzzed. It has acetaminophen in it as well. You’ll want it.” She told him. He gave her a weird look, one that seemed to say he wanted to protest but wasn’t going to. Nor was he going to tell her that she was probably right. They stayed in silence for a long while as they sorted out things from each of the bags.

“Hey hey hey, look.” David said excitedly and completely out of the blue. She looked up at him from trying to figured out how they were going to open up some of the cans of food from the emergency survival kit she’d picked up from the plane. It had been part of the first aid kit. There were a few cans of food but no can opener. Other than that, she had found a few bottle of alcohol, some snack foods, some junk food, and a few candy bars. They may not have been healthy but they’d be helpful. It turned out that David was pointing to a tent. Kind of. It was a bag that held a tent. Next to it was a tackle box but there didn’t seem to be any fishing rods around. That wasn’t a huge deal. They only needed to get some strong sticks, perhaps. It would be hard to do in the ocean but maybe there’d be a stream around. They didn’t know yet. She got up and walked to him, handing the bottle of water over.

“Drink.” She told him. He muttered something that sounded like he was mocking her but started to drink from the bottle anyway. She unzipped the bag for the tent and looked inside. It would definitely take two of them to put this one up. It wasn’t small. While he rested she started to pull things out and move them far up the beach where there was more solid ground and she could actually anchor the stakes. It wasn’t long before he joined her.

“You’ll need help.”

“Yes but first of all, I’m going to need you to redo this splint.” She lifted up her arm. She’d be far less useless if her wrist was stabilized and she could work.

“Me?”

“It won’t be that hard and I’ll tell you how.” She said and started to unwrap it. Her movements gingered and slow as she winced trying to ignore the pain. He stared at her in horror and then audibly gagged when he saw how broken her wrist actually was. “Oh calm down…”

“The bone is…”

“I know.” She said, “But you are strong and can force it back into place.” She said then got up and went down to the beach. It took a bit but she managed to get a small bottle of whiskey open. After that she downed two of the percocet with the alcohol and started to binge on a bag of chips. It was the best way to keep everything down. He just stood there, watching, like she was some kind of lunatic. She headed back to him with the first aid kit in her hand and sat down.

“Are you sure I should…”

“Grab a strong branch.” She told him. “Come on, before I’m too trashed to explain this too you.” She continued to gobble down the chips until the large bag was gone. Her stomach wasn’t too happy but it was far more calm than if she had put no food in there. He came back with a thick branch and she directed the length he should snap it in two. Then she got an ace bandage from the first aid kit (she’d used gauze before).

“Uh…”

“Just shift it back into place. I’m going to scream.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He sighed and took her wrist gently. “You can’t get mad at me.”

“I’ll be more mad if you pussy out and don’t do this.”

“I’m going to blame that comment on the…various drugs you just took.” He said. She rolled her eyes and he put his hands over her feeling the bone. “On the count of three.”

“Okay.”

“One…two…” He didn’t wait for three, he did it just then and without warning. As promised she screamed bloody murder and kicked her foot into the stand. He very quickly wrapped up her wrist as she yelled at him to make sure he did it as tight as he possibly could and check her fingernails to make sure blood was still circulating. By that point she was laying on her back trying to control her breath so she wouldn’t vomit. “I fail to see how this is going to make you better with the tent construction.”

“Shut…up.” She muttered, “Just give me a moment…okay?”

“You aren’t going to…die, right?”

“Don’t be a moron.” She whispered and put a hand over her face. Everything was spinning and she knew she couldn’t throw up right now. It would be stupid and wasteful. It was possible to keep it all down. There wasn’t too much alcohol in there. Enough to take the pills and a shot more. Not nearly enough to poison her system. It was more the pills that were tumbling around in there. She needed about ten minutes for it to pass. David paced around nervously, she focused on the sounds of that and the ocean to calm her down. When she didn’t feel like she was going to puke any more she got to her feet.

“You…okay? I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t be sorry.” She said, “Really. It was going to hurt no matter who did it. I appreciate the help. We have to get this tent up. The sun is brutal and I assume the night will be freezing. We need to do this then some how start a fire. Okay? A normal one and a signal one.” He nodded still looking freaked out by all of this but they started to get to work on the tent.

It was not easy because she was mostly wasted and he had clearly never put a tent up in his life but about two hours later they had a two person tent up. It was nice. There were windows and even a divider for the different “rooms”. That was a start. Once that was done she laid down, for a very long time and passed out, more or less. She didn’t know what David went off to do and her dreams were incredibly weird thanks to the narcotics. When she finally came to, her mouth was bone dry and she was shivering. Also, she really had to pee. Fuck.

She made her way out of the tent to see David sitting near by. He had made a fire. Maybe she was wrong about her thoughts that he was useless, at least in way of survival. Not that it would be extremely hard to make a fire with the waterproof matches in the kit that they had but he knew how to build one. The tinder and fuel was all piled up exactly how it should be. Impressive. Part of her, though she admired him as an artist, also figured he wouldn’t have been able to tie his shoes by himself let alone start and maintain a fire. He was cooking some food over it. There was a stone heating on the coals and he had two of the cans open and heating up. They seemed to be soup. Chicken noodle if she had to guess. The labels had been washed off.

“Hey.” She said softly. “Sorry I um…”

“It’s understandable.” He said and picked up a bottle of water to hold out to her. He winced as he turned and she frowned but took the bottle with her good hand. Her other hand was noticeably swollen at that point but only due to the injury. The bandage was tight but still not cutting off circulation. He’d been perfect at that too. She took a few sips of water and then set the bottle down next to him in the sand.

“Have to pee.” She said, “I’ll be…” She looked down at her jeans and sighed, “Can you um…help?”

“What?”

“Look I can’t reasonably get my pants open or even down with this injury I know it’s weird but it’s either that or piss myself.” She told him. He looked her over and then nodded.

“Lets not get too far from the food or fire though.”

“Fine, not sure I can walk that far.” She said.

It was really awkward having to ask for this level of help but it was her best option, honestly. They were only going to have each other for a while, they’d have to help each other. They walked to a more grassy and brush covered area and he stepped up close to her, his hands moving to undo her pants and pulled them down for her, along with her panties.

“Usually when I’m doing this it’s not to help a woman take a piss.”

“Yeah, I figured.” She laughed nervously. Carefully she squatted down, luckily the drugs in her system made her feel a bit less self-concision about this. “You wanna watch? I mean if you are into that…”

“Maybe I am…” He grinned wickedly, “But I guess you’ll never know because I am not going to watch…this time.” He turned and then took a few steps away. Her face got hot and she blushed, she knew that’s all it could possibly be at that point. None of that really should have aroused her. Not really because she found the fetish gross, she totally could get into the whole voyeurism thing, but because this situation was so fucked and there was no reason to get horny. Plus, that was a shitty excuse for a pickup line or even some odd attempt at seduction. She watched him as she peed, which felt so amazing in that moment. When she finished she stood up carefully and somewhat pulled her panties back up, her jeans were more difficult.

“Um…”

“Need help?” He asked then turned.

“Don’t look so happy about it you…weirdo.” She said but couldn’t help but smile at this whole thing. He was very attractive and god, that voice. He sauntered back over to her and helped her with her jeans standing close and looking down into her eyes as he fastened them for her. He leaned in, getting very close like he was going to kiss her but didn’t.

“Weird is my middle name, well, one of them. If you get me drunk enough, I might tell you my others.” He whispered before stepping back and heading for the campsite. She just stood there staring at him somewhat blankly before hurrying after him. She was starving and for far more than just dinner, even if that was part of it.

Next Chapters.

[sorayahigashikata]

Chapter 87: "Spin spin spin spin spin Spinspinspinspin Spinspinspin AAAAAUGGHH!"