#shes a beautiful fluffy void creature with moons for eyes

[dent-de-leon]

trick or treat!!

hello!! happy belated halloween! I went with a Kingsley wip for this

“Let’s find him the prettiest place in the Blooming Grove.” Kingsley thinks he overheard that once, in another world and another life, in an endless sea of glistening stars and floating lights. Soft glow of souls drifting free all around them. “Every place in the Blooming Grove is the most beautiful,” another voice chimed in, warm and comforting in the darkness. 

Now that Kingsley was standing here at the edge of the wood, he had to concede it was true. 

The grove is a graveyard bursting with life, from the vast biodiversity of sprawling fauna to the ambient chitter of whistling insects and gentle rustling of creatures in the underbrush. Sharp snap of a twig in the distance, the flash of a tail vanishing in the thicket. Glowing eyes and drifting ghost lights. Green oaks branching out to swallow the sky, shards of light filtering in through the canopy of dense emerald foliage.

Pools of crystal clear water glimmer in the moonlight alongside shallow bogs overgrown with tufts of fluffy moss and floating algae. Mushrooms sprout from every patch of wildflowers, dripping inky black ichor into the soil. 

It had been a full moon cycle since he was torn away from the starless void and woke from the long dream, his words returning to him slowly over the past few weeks, distant memories drifting back in a sea of dreams. He found his voice under the gentle guidance of a sweet angel and spark of joy, gradually awakening from some long forgotten spell. 

But even as he regained his sense of self, became more present and grounded in the world—his strange family were always reluctant to see him go. He was getting restless and needed to stretch his legs, explore the winding paths beyond the sunlit garden. 

Joy wrapped him in a vibrant red coat, tucked him in its warmth and delicately lifted the hood over his horns. 

“Be safe,” the Angel whispered, both prayer and promise. 

“Don’t stray from the paths,” he remembers another woman say, spoken in the hushed tone of stalking prey. “Follow this trail here beyond the brambles, you should see the smoke rising from her cottage. It’ll be easy, Lucien. You don’t have to lift a finger, dear. Just lead the way and let them give chase. She will take care of the rest.” 

His father pressing a piece of paper in his palms. A list of names. Evil men, his father would say. Monsters and murderers. Strangers that made his stomach turn; the pungent, acrid scent of blood that lingered on their breath, clinging to their skin. Sharp smiles and hidden blades. A witch that watched him with a hunger in her eyes— 

[watercolourferns]

The Courtiers and Lucio as Cryptids - Modern AU Headcanons

Hello stranger! Welcome to Vesuvia and welcome to Mazelinka’s Extreme Advertures agency. What? The forest? Oh yes, it’s older than any of us, must be hundreds of years old... Trekking? Of course, be our guest, just please first listen to this pointers before we start planning your trekking trip for you as there’s a few things every new visitor needs to be wary of... 5 things to be exact. So here’s our little briefing on what to be wary about when trekking in our beautiful, old forest!

Volta

There’s talk about a tiny little creature with soft wings that skeeters around the Vesuvian forest at all hours of the day and night.

Those who have seen her have said she looks soft and cuddly and will come up at you with little begging paws, like a begging kitty.

But woe those who don’t heed and give her an offering because she will go completely rageful on them.

They say she always brings food to the lost trekkers and hikers.

But again, YOU MUST SHARE, unless you want 10 pounds of batshit craziness snarling and scurrying all over you while threatening you with their hugeass mouth of sharp teeth.

Once you give her food, though, she will calm down and happily sit next to you to munch on the snack.

... take this time to slowly back down and run for your life, this creature has fame of being very unstable, though generally shy...

But when food is involved... Yes, better run off leaving an offering behind... Alright, next!

Valdemar

If you happen to get lost too far into the forest, where there’s such a lack of sunlight that it’s cold enough to make you see your breath... please don’t heed the noises and try to return to the path and back to the agency.

Why, you ask? Because the further into the forest you go the more likely you are to encounter our most horrible... secret.

Lost trekkers who have survived describe them as a Eldritch horror.

They can’t go beyond that, really, because apparently this creature is so horrifying that the human brain can’t process them!

The trekkers have said they’ve seen long limbs, coming from a mass of shapeless void.

Eyes blinking in every direction, but suddenly not there anymore...

Then they start to hear the sound of something cutting into something tender, squelching noises filling the air.

They have also reported that once you see the teeth... it’s too late.

we think they are responsible for several unexplained disappearances throughout the agency’s life...

Oh, but don’t worry! As long as you keep on the path and heed our directions you don’t need fear... though forgetting your fear might not be wise... Let’s move on!

Vulgora

Let’s see... Oh, the date you want your trek is during a blood moon! Are you sure?

Again why? Well, Vesuvians tend to not venture into the forest during the blood moon. They say something haunts the place, no matter where you go, and a turned back is enough invitation for it to attack you...

There’s been reports of trees upturned, ripped with roots and all. Firmly rooted boulders crashing down hills without an explanation as to how. And footsteps echoing in the distance, the flash of red amongst the trees as the creatures moves about...

And at night, there’s the screams. Horrible, blood curdling screams of violent frustration.

They say this cryptid creature only wants to fight someone, because if you venture during the blood moon on your own, the moment you are vulenrable, you’ll be attacked by sticks, stones, leaves, dirt, even small animals are going to be thrown at you!

Mind you, they will be at intervals, as if waiting for your retaliate. If you do, the creature will double it’s efforts.

Only one person have successfully fought it back... Great great great ... great great great granddaughter of Baroness Devorak of Nevivon, Ms. Pasha, who founded the agency some years ago in honour of her late great great grandmother. 

They say she took her great great grandmother’s favourite wooden spoon and chucked it with all her might between two trees where she had seen the flash of red. A cry was heard and during that blood moon nobody heard screams.

That was the most peaceful blood moon season we’ve ever had!

Why yes! Our logo is a spoon precisely in remembrance of that joyous event. Well, let’s carry on

Vlastomil

This creature... Nobody has really seen him...

Or at least nobody has admitted to seeing him, but we do know that when trekkers venture to close to his cave they run away screaming and immediately demand a shower, claiming that they have seen made them feel unclean and disgusting.

There have been others who have come out of the cave with red eyes. We suspect the cave has been harbouring some type of bacteria or allergic agent that makes people hallucinate, but usually after a full antibiotic and antihistamine course people end up fine and healthy. Albeit with an almost permanent case of the pink-eye.

We don’t really recommend going near the cave. It’s slippery in there, and your insurance could probably not cover the expensive cost of the antibiotics a fall.

We have tried to rope the cave several times, but the teenagers of the area have taken it up as a dare. A couple have lost their lives to the mysterious illness the cave harbours but... 

So yes, let’s continue!

Lucio

And last but not least, our trademark attraction!!

This particular creature roams nearest the palace, now justice building and university, grounds mostly where the forest meets the gardens though sometimes one can see it nearer.

They say this creature has horns, glowing red eyes, and lacks an arm.

A few of Ms. Pasha’s friends have encountered him face to face and they say that their voice is horrendous, like a cross between a high pitched bleat, and a nasal whine.

If you stay too long in their presence he will start moaning in frustration, stomping his goat-like feet soundlessly, as if to try and demand something long forgotten.

Be ware, he might look fluffy and soft, but that’s just a deceiving appearance to get to get closer to him.

If you do however, whatever you do, don’t offer him your hand, specially if you’ve been hurt and there’s blood on it. Try not to offend him, and be as courteous as possible AND DON’T MENTION FIRE NOR BIRTHDAYS.

Compliment his beauty, the way his eyes glow so red, the softness of his fur... Offer him a pomegranate if you happen to have one of ours handy, that will please him.

But if you, by any reason, do offend him... Your best chance to run is to light something small with fire and throw it at his feet. He will be too scared of it to pursue you, so this will be your chance to run away.

We ask you to do this as your last resort, as it could start a fire in the forest...

There have been accounts of people encountering this creature, and never been seen again... then coming back. They generally come back richer than they left, happy as oysters, and a strong desire of going back.

We have no idea why this happens... but if they were in a relationship they usually end it saying things like “Oh, it’s just that you don’t pamper me like the Count does...” Yes, I’m speaking about you Yolanda, how could you do this to me, we were going to get ma- ehem!

He might not be as outwardly dangerous as the others, but not everything that glitters is fucking gold Yolanda, you little-

This concludes our briefing on the dangers of the ancient Vesuvian forest. But don’t worry! You are in very capable hands and we will ensure that you- What? Oh, your ankle started hurting? Oh dear... that’s not good, you need to be in optimal conditions for the trek... That’s such a shame. We can offer you coupons for The Chubby Chicken’s Bed’n’Breakfast with Cave Spa? Don’t worry, it’s a gift for taking the time to hear our talk! Yes, yes, it’s in the forest’s boundaries, you don’t have to go too far in, and it’s always, more or less, full of guests. If you don’t mind chickens that could be a nice place for you to recover from your ankle! Here, have a nice day at the Cave Spa!! Oh... shoot, what was that about the flower in the Cave...? Tsk, no matter I’m sure the witch will explain to them about that...  ~~~~ This is for @kobresias, because I was chatting with her about this and she liked it so I expanded it. Thank you for your encouragement!! OwO

[cawolters]

— Strip And Kiss —

Hello from the middle of the night! I’m having a real bitch case of insomnia, and instead of doing edits on my novel, which I’m too scramble-brained to do, I felt like doing something fun!

It’s no secret that I’m a prompt-lover and a trope fan, and so I just remembered I had the beginning of a ‘let’s make out so they don’t suspect us breaking and entering’ prompt lying about.

I finished it up and tadaa.

Warns: none, pg13, lovely, YAish, fluffy, inspired by A Darker Shade Of Magic kinda, there’s a dress, and a hoop skirt and a touch of magic. And Ludec is a bit of a jerk. But. You know how I roll. I like them mean and emotionally cribbed.

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The night was a kind of blue that made one think of the astronomers painted ceilings. Deep, navy, bedazzled with nine point stars and crisscrossing lines that chartered their endless travel over the heavens.

But of course neither Ludec or his mandatory apprentice, noticed the spectacular glint of the cosmic forces and their slow blue void above.

They were quite tethered to their own little bubble of world, here, far down on the earthly soil.

Elinora grabbed her skirt and shook the ruffles and ribbons on their stiff dress-hoops.

“Flaying cunts. Whoever forced a woman to wear this should be eaten by rats in the pits of Jouniya!” She hissed and yanked out the strings that fastened the metal skeleton around her waist, through the pockets of the gown.

It clashed to the ground like cutlery in a tin when it fell from within her skirt.

The dress, robbed of its bones, instantly collapsed around her legs.

“Don’t break that. It’ll come out of your pay.” Ludec wasn’t looking at her.

He was watching the balcony of the grand sandstone castle of Hinr. A massive block stuffed full of wealth and grandeur, it could all but have made him scoff, had it not been for Ludec’s burning need to own it.

Guards on either side.

More on the ground level. Ten more pacing the inner wall. Definitely too many to kill and maybe too many to sneak past, even with the help of a well done Kraven spell.

Ludec frowned as he kept counting the obstacles.

“I would have dressed like a man from the start if you had not stopped me, and then we would not be in this hellish situation!!” Elinora said in an angry, fast whisper.

They were both in the deep shadows of the royal gardens, hidden by the castle wall, and though there was music and laughter soaring out from the open veranda doors, Elinora’s cursing was sure to be heard if she didn’t pipe down!

“Your face is too pretty to be a man’s and unfortunately it’s isn’t a masquerade ball tonight.” If it had been anyone but Ludec who’d said something like that, it would have been a complement.

“Be glad that I am not biting the life out of you with my pretty mouth for being so smart, mr Ludec.”

Ludec glanced over his shoulder. Elinora was furiously untying her bodice.

Getting her out of her gown was crucial, she had no chance of climbing vines or squeezing between bares in that thing. The ridiculous dress had been their ticket in through the first set of gates, no spell could make it over the drawbridge, but now a different guise was needed for the second gate, and Luduc could feel the magic biting at his palms. Ready to burst out of his skin at the breathe of a word.

However, the moon bounced off of Elinora’s cleavage and her pressed chest rather charmingly in that moment, and Ludec quickly turned back to observing the guards.

“You’re free to sink your teeth in my face, but don’t touch my breechers. I can’t return them to Sir Orionie full of holes.”

Elinora made an annoyed snort.

“As if you could at all. I will wager a third of my silver that you will ruin them all on your own.”

Ludec heard the silk string slip out of its loops behind him.

She was supposed to be his subordinate, his student, his admirer, and yet Elinora was less an apprentice and more a scratching hissing marten, refusing training.

“I’ll gladly take that gam—“ Ludec started in a sneer, but a set of voices broke his attempts to return fire.

“Sir Barcus!! Over here! Come.” A shill laugh came around the corner of the gardens.

Ludec’s eyes flicked from the metal hoops on the ground around Elinora, to the undone bodice, and then dove towards her. He hardly looked down at her before shoving her up against the wall of Hinr Castle. She made a surprised noise, but luckily no more than that.

No curses, no knife in his gut, no fangs in his cheekbone. Just Elinora’s palms against his chest.

“Milani, my Milani, your face is a hundred roses and you smell like a berry!! Sweeter than a million sugars!” The idiot called Barcurs sounded drunk on love, or fine wine, as he stumbled closer to their hiding spot.

Ludec pressed his lips to Eli.

The magic sparked from his fingertips, blue flashes in a miniature lightning storm, he buried them in her wild hair.

“Barcus, a poet you are. Here, touch me.” Milani sounded breathless. And only a few paces away.

The invisibility spell was ready, alive and snapping, but if he used it now he could not conjure another spell before morning.

After a moment Eli kissed back.

He felt how she leaned against him and slowly moved her mouth with warm velvety lips against his.

… A billion sugars…

Ludec’s stomach did a horrid drop, like the tickle of a fall.

“Ah! Milani! In the gardens?”

“Yes.”

“Under the Gods holy stars?!” He sounded appalled in a most thrilled manner.

“Yes.”

“Ahah, you are a wonderful vicious creature my love, I shan’t deny you—oh.” The scuff of Barcus steps stopped. Milani stifled her giggle.

Ludec pulled back an inch from their kiss and angled his head. Then spoke with the sleek fine uniform of court over his words.

“Forgive us, but it would seem you shall have to seek out another corner under the Gods holy stars. I am afraid this one is occupied.”

Barcus paled and Milani eyes were wide. However the woman quickly regained her mental footing. She tugged at Barcus’ arm and got him heaved away with a coo.

“Do not mind them, sweetheart. Come.”

Ludec’s narrow eyes followed them as they vanished into the lush tall maze. Soon their voices were entirely gone too.

Then he blinked and turned back.

Elinora was in his arms. Her body trapped between the wall and him.

Her beautiful face were somewhere between an angry frown and a question.

Ludec let her go and took three long strides back, almost tripping backwards on the metal hoops on the ground.

“Because of the dress.” He explained.

Elinora flicked her eyes away, the question fading and the frown taking over. Then she started unlacing the rest of her attire.

“I could have killed them instead?” He defended, even though she hadn’t said anything.

“No. You’re right. Rather a kiss than a kill. Cleaner that way.” She slipped out of her embroidered top, leaving her in the corset from the waist up.

“... Exactly.” The magic was hurting now. Like a beast nipping at his fingers.

Icy blue and violent, and not at all like the calm dusty marine of the astronomy tower.

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-ciao-

[alphawave-writes]

Evil actions and good intentions chapter 4: One day, three autumns Sigma x Harold Winston

Synopsis: Harold desperately tries to hide his secrets from Talon, all the while pining over Sigma. He also gets a pretty sweet shoulder massage.

Read it here or on AO3. If you want more Sigma, check out my series ‘The universe sings’. If you’re hankering for fluffy Sigma x Harold oneshots, check out my other two fics ‘It’s lonely at the top’ and ‘Under the milky way’

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It’s hard for Harold to convince everybody that he’s fine when all known logic dictates that he shouldn’t. Given the extent of his injuries, he should be bandaged from head to toe at the very least, unable to walk or move. Yet he runs and smiles without so much as a hair out of place, no scar or wound to be seen. The biting stares once reserved for Siebren are now given to him as well. They glare at him like he is a ticking time bomb, or an omnipotent god walking amongst mortals. A freak of nature. If only they knew he would never put anyone in harm’s way. If anything, he puts himself in danger by using his abilities so brazenly.

If someone were to ask him if he regrets his decision to save Siebren, the answer would be a resounding no. He is used to sacrificing himself for others. 

He goes by his day, trying his best to get used to the eyes constantly pressed on his back. Siebren does his best to make him feel comfortable, and he appreciates the gesture, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that they’re searching him for something, stripping him down to the molecule until they find the answers they are looking for.

At least Siebren is by his side, laughing and smiling easily, grazing light touches over his skin like time doesn’t exist. Harold grins warmly as he looks up into his ocean blue eyes and feels years and years of affection well up to the surface, waiting to spill out of his lips.

One day, three autumns, his mother told him when he was young, obsessed with idioms of her homeland as he was obsessed with books. His father had flown off to America again, leaving him and his sister to stay with his mother’s family in Lijiang. She’s proud in that typical Asian tiger mom way, but beneath the surface, she missed her husband greatly.

Yí r­­ì s­ān qi­­ū, she repeated in her native Mandarin. When you miss that special someone greatly, you say this. When they go away, one day feels like the passing of three autumns. You stare out the window because every single second they are gone is too long. You cling to their memory, hold it close to your heart, and eagerly wait for their return. She clasped him on the shoulder and said, Do you miss your papa?

That was her word for his father, ‘papa’. She was mama, and he was papa—a compromise between her Chinese culture and his father’s American culture. He nodded eagerly, as all young boys did. I miss papa.

She smiled with grave melancholy. Yí r­­ì s­ān qi­­ū, she said. I miss him too.

If one day is three autumns, he cannot imagine how many eternities have passed since he lost Siebren all those years ago.

After Harold woke up from his coma, Siebren doted on his every whim and need, following him around everywhere. He makes Harold breakfast in the morning and reaches for the mugs in the high cupboard. It's all rather unnecessary but Siebren does it anyway. “You can never be too careful,” the astrophysicist tells Harold, the astrobiologist with an expert understanding of gorilla and human physiology. “I don’t mind helping you. It’s the least I owe you for saving my life.”

In the past, perhaps Harold might have told Siebren that he can handle himself quite fine, but present Harold is smarter and wiser and he also has the added knowledge that Siebren is an adept masseuse with strong fingers. A few stray thoughts of how Harold came to know this filtered into his brain and drew the heat up to his cheeks. He thinks he sees Siebren make a similar reaction when he makes the request for a massage, back when they’re alone in his bedroom, but it’s lightning fast, too quick for him to catch. Siebren quickly rounds up behind him and presses his fingers firmly into Harold’s wound flesh.

Even after all these years, Siebren’s touch is familiar. Comforting. Delicate.

Maybe he likes to get pampered, Harold convinces himself as Siebren undoes a knot in his back, drawing out a soft groan. Maybe he likes how easily he unravels by Siebren’s touch, transforming all the stress and guilt that rests on his shoulders into radiant heat. Maybe he likes the feel of hands on his body, the touches forbidden to him for so long, lighting a long dormant fire in the pit of his stomach. 

After a few minutes, Siebren speaks, curiously out of breath. “You’re enjoying this.”

“And you’re not?” Harold smiles knowingly over his shoulder.

Siebren clears his throat loudly behind his back. Harold smiles mischievously.

“I’m an old man now, Siebren. I can enjoy a massage every now and then.”

“Yes, well at our age, I think we’re entitled to it,” Siebren chuckles. “Not that I would ever force someone to massage me.”

“Why not? I basically made you do it now.”

“It’s different when it’s you,” Siebren admits quietly.

Harold’s eyes widen. There’s a spark in Siebren’s voice, a breathy quality Harold catches that conjures memories of silken sheets and soft pillows and warm skin, all made more potent on the dark expanse of the moon. Harold keeps his gaze forward, a dark blush betraying his otherwise neutral expression.

Siebren uses the silence to concentrate further on the massage. His fingers tap out rhythmically on Harold’s skin, a piano tune playing on pliable skin. Siebren begins to hum under his breath, a ragtag jumble of discordant notes that make no sense on their own but nevertheless sounds beautiful from his lips. It’s strange yet haunting and very very Siebren.

“What song is that one?” Harold asks quietly.

Siebren stops humming altogether. He coughs loudly. “N-nothing.”

“I’ve heard you hum that one before,” Harold comments. “New song or new formula?”

Siebren goes unnaturally quiet as his hands retreat from Harold’s shoulders. Harold turns towards him only to find Siebren staring at the dust molecules in front of his face. His lips are pursed tight. He’s floating higher, eyes wide and haunted.

Harold cups Siebren’s face, steadying him as he floats down to the ground. He sees the clarity dawn slowly upon Siebren like the birth of a sunrise,  gravity shackling him once more to Earth. The expression Siebren gives him is not a familiar one. His face speaks of ghosts, nightmares, and sleepless nights.

“Harold…do you trust me?” He asks slowly.

“Of course I do.” Harold doesn’t even hesitate. “Tell me.”

Siebren gazes deeply into Harold’s eyes for any signs of doubt but finds nothing but warm and summery emotions, kept tempered and dormant by the forces of Harold’s willpower. With a final nod, he summons the hyperspheres.

They float idly around his right hand, spinning in circles before fusing into one being. The dark matter within has coalesced into a bigger sphere, the components that hold them together crumbling away like dust in the wind. Harold stares into the void, sees time and space fold into itself.

Harold frowns. “What am I looking at?”

“Sshhh,” Sigma hushes. He brings it closer to Harold’s ears.

It’s only then that he hears the music, a violent clash of thudding pianos and dark whispers and Shepard tones constantly rising to the heavens.

“What…what is this?” He gasps.

“The universe’s melody,” Siebren replies. He stares at the orb, watching it hover above his hand. “Magnificent, isn’t it?”

It is, Harold admits to himself, but not as magnificent as Siebren right now, vulnerable and gorgeous at the same time, familiar and unfamiliar in every right way. “Is this what you hear all the time?” he asks.

Siebren nods. “This was all I heard after the accident. For years I thought it was the universe taunting me, enslaving me to be servant to its whims. Alone in my own mind, I was trapped, fighting for release. And then one day I saw it. The bridge between time and space, a wormhole tearing the fabric of reality apart wide enough that I may glimpse through. And there I saw infinite realities, infinite versions of myself warped and changed through the efforts of infinite realities. But it was only for a second. And it never happened again.”

Harold stares at the dark orb in front of him, his breath disappearing into the mist. Slowly, shakily, he raises his fingers to touch it. Pain spikes when he touches it, fading away rapidly when he retreats his hand.

The orb harmlessly floats from his hand into Harold’s. Siebren tilts his head to the side, eyes wide in rapturous adoration. “So you see what I have to do, right? If I can just figure out this melody, if I can just find the formula, I might be able to prove the existence of multiple realities. I could see far into the past and future, and glimpse at the beauty the universe hides from us. I could learn so much more.”

It’s times like this that Harold wishes he shares Siebren’s passion for the mysteries of the universe, but their ultimate goals always differed. Siebren searches for the unknown far off into the galaxy, while Harold searches for the hidden potential lying dormant within all living creatures. Siebren sees the beauty in everything that he can’t see and touch, but Harold sees the beauty in the present, the sunlight in an excited grin, the dazzling stars behind sky blue eyes, the supernovas that explode from a gentle caress.  

It takes Siebren a moment before he catches himself. He hides his shy smile behind a closed fist. The orb dissipates into thin air. “I-I know this sounds like I’m insane. I know my mind is no longer whole, but I just know the answer lies here somewhere.” He stares forlornly at Harold. “I understand if you don’t believe me. It sounds ridiculous.”

Harold smiles as he places a hand on Siebren’s shoulder. “Of course it sounds ridiculous," he says before chuckling. "But then again, people thought Copernicus was ridiculous when he said the Earth revolved around the sun back in the day.”

“So you believe me?” Siebren asks, hopeful.

“If you believe it, I believe it,” Harold says. He squeezes Siebren's shoulder lightly. “I trust you.”

Siebren takes Harold’s hands into his own, gazing down with childlike eyes. Harold can feel the gentle hum of power within Sigma’s palm, waves pushing and pulling at invisible strings. He doesn’t pull back when Siebren places a quick kiss on his cheek. The patch of skin where his lips left their mark fizzled pleasantly with electricity.

“I needed to hear that,” Sigma admits with a whisper. “Verdante, Harold.”

Harold blushes as he glances down at their entwined hands. He wants more—tender kisses, small touches, soft words—but he doesn’t have the courage to ask for more. He sees the way Siebren brightens in his presence, the joy and relief of knowing a long-lost love has been resurrected. He doesn’t have the courage to commit and break Siebren’s heart again when he returns to the grave, even if it means he must deny himself his own selfish wants.

He is used to sacrificing himself for others. It’s familiar. Normal.

“Come on, tough guy,” Harold smiles. “I think I owe you a massage after all that.”

Siebren protests loudly, but it falls upon flat ears. He isn’t going to get away that easily, Harold smiles to himself.

 Moira catches him when Siebren is away on a training exercise. An additional check-up, she claims, though Harold is quick to narrow his eyes. It’s been more than a week since that fateful mission, and she only approaches him now when Siebren must temporarily leave his side. The timing is almost a bit too convenient.

He’s not usually a cautious person, but Moira rubs him in all the wrong ways. There’s a coldness in her stare that speaks of cold clinical data and complete detachment. Years ago, he wouldn’t have thought anything about it because he intrinsically trusted people to be benevolent and kind. A lifetime’s worth of betrayals have finally taught him otherwise. Not a day goes by when he wishes to see the world in rose-tinted glasses once more.

“All my medical tests have been up to date,” he says slowly. “My last checkup was two days ago.”

“Ah, yes, but this is a psychiatric examination,” Moira says. “You have been through a rather unfortunate accident. It is standard practice here in Talon to perform psychiatric examinations of all our personnel after any traumatic event.”

“Siebren hasn’t had an examination,” Harold points out.

“He shall have one after you. Now, if you will please join me?”

He’s got no choice but to follow. The choice she gives is an illusion, he thinks morosely.

She doesn’t take him to the medical bay where Dr. Irvin Laszlo’s office is. She doesn’t take him to her own office next door, pristine and professional apart from a few anime figurines on her shelf. Instead, she leads him down to the lower levels, past keycard-encrypted doors to a single, dark room.

It smells of decay and disuse, bringing back memories of Horizon One and the torturous loneliness he felt at Horizon Two afterwards. There are no windows, the only light coming from LED lamps above. The only items in the room are three plastic chairs, two facing the third, which stands beneath the spotlight. Moira takes her seat on the first. The second is occupied by a man he’s never seen before with sandy skin and a short spiky haircut similar to Harold’s own. She gestures for him to sit in the third, already scribbling notes on a clipboard with her other hand.

He glances into the shadows and thinks he spies a pair of eyes gazing upon him, but Moira clicks her fingers impatiently at him. The mysterious man presses a button on an old tape player. It’s analogue. Antique. Untraceable.

“This is the psychological examination of Subject: 31,” the mysterious man speaks with a British accent. Tones of his native Indian can be faintly heard. “We are here to examine his mental wellbeing after the failed mission at Cape Town.”

Moira steeples her fingers. “Tell me, if it’s not too much for you, what happened that day?”

There’s something wrong about all this, but he’s not sure what. Is it the stranger, Moira, or that insufferably dehumanizing nickname? He suppresses a frown and wills himself to sound calm. “I was on the mission with Siebren. The men in our contingent had killed all the poor omnic soldiers.”

“You feel sympathy for them?” She asks.

“Well, they are people, even if they’re not necessarily living.” His lips pull tight as he remembers the explosion. “Even if they are criminals, they didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Moira makes a note, scowling to herself. The stranger perks up. “So what happened after?”

Harold frowns. “I would think that’s common knowledge. The omnics all suddenly blew up after a countdown. If Siebren didn’t react fast enough and shielded the both of us, I would’ve probably perished with the rest of the team.”

He hopes his lie goes through undetected but the stranger glares with the intensity of a solar flare. “Surely that wasn’t all that happened, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, thinking about it logically, the omnic corpses were found scattered all over the base, meaning you would have been engulfed by flames on all sides. And even if you happened to be in an area where it can be easily blocked in one direction, that doesn’t explain how you got all burned up and Sigma escapes without a scratch.”

“I can’t answer that,” Harold lies. “I’ve never been in combat before. I was disorientated to say the least.”

“So why did you offer to go anyway? Talon gave you no combat experience. You had no reason to go.”

Harold bristles. “Siebren could have been in danger.”

“So could you.”

“Rather me than him.” Harold feels his face go flush with worry. He lowers his head. “Or anybody else for that matter," he quickly adds. "I know I’m living on borrowed time. I might as well give that time to someone who needs it.”

The stranger leans back in his chair, his posture casual but his eyes firm. Moira scribbles something. “We have reason to suspect Subject: 31 has been involved with Sigma in the past, Sanjay,” she tells him.

The stranger known as Sanjay smiles, as fake and plastic as the chair he sits upon. “So that’s what it is.” He turns to Harold. “Is this true?”

The realization dawns upon him far too late. He stands up from his seat, eyes wide. “This isn’t a psychological examination, this is an interrogation!”

“Sit down, please,” he orders.

In the darkness, a shadowy figure is disturbed from their place by the wall. The dark shine of a pair of shotguns stares back at Harold, crossed menacingly over the figure’s chest. In the back of his mind, Harold recognizes something about this person, but he doesn’t want to test his luck. He lets out a breath and slowly sits down, keeping his gaze firmly on Sanjay.

“Would you like me to repeat the question?”

“It’s fine,” Harold sighs. He glances at the section of the wall where the dark figure once stood, now gone without a trace, a dark whisper in the wind. He turns his head to Sanjay, his eyes still fixated on the wall. “…A long time ago, before the incident at Horizon One, we were…in a relationship.”

“Could you clarify?” Sanjay asks.

“Do I have to?”

“Only if you want to.”

Harold takes a quiet breath. “A romantic one,” he admits. “But that was only back then. Not anymore.” The words sting far more than any flesh wound.

“But you would say you are still close?”

“I think so. We are friends.”

“And you’re sure Subject Sigma—sorry, Dr. Siebren de Kuiper—” Sanjay says the name like it’s a foul aftertaste, “—you're sure he feels the same?”

His whole life has been built on him being observant and perceptive; he’d be a fool not to notice Siebren’s actions recently. He notices the secret little glances when Siebren thinks he’s not looking. He notices the soft smiles, sweet words desperate to escape a warbling throat. He notices the tender affection in Siebren’s touches, full of love and hesitation. He knows Siebren is falling for him again, but he doesn’t do anything about it. A part of him wants to be the one to capture Siebren’s heart all over again.

“I’m sure he does,” Harold says finally. As something more than friends, he wordlessly adds.

They ask him a few more basic questions about his stay, but everyone knows they won’t get anything out of him. He’s given a short debriefing, which is essentially an official reprimand for illegally accompanying Siebren on the mission. Fortunately, Moira has mercifully handwaved the incident away, not that Harold feels very fortunate. He really doesn’t want to owe anything to her.

He slowly stands up from his seat and is escorted out by Sanjay. In the middle of the hallway Siebren leans besides a wall, wearing a blue and black bodysuit that clings to his form. It’s athletic gear, Harold’s mind explains, even as his eyes inevitably trail downward. The bodysuit leaves very little to the imagination. It takes all of Harold’s willpower to keep his gaze level on Siebren’s face. 

“Did it go well, Harold?” Siebren asks expectantly.

He wants to say something, but Sanjay is next to him, and the door is still open behind him. Moira waits within the room, pen primed in her hand. Harold forces a smile. “Nothing special,” he lies. “Just a standard psych examination.”

Siebren smiles, none the wiser. “Good to hear. I’ll see you for dinner after, correct?”

Harold smiles back, faltering when he feels Sanjay’s presence beside him. He turned to him. “Could I have a word alone with Siebren? Just for a second.”

Sanjay gives a look to Moira, who only tilts her head. He nods slowly. “Take your time,” he says, before returning to the room, closing the door behind himself.

Siebren frowns when he sees the stern expression on Harold’s face. “What happened?”

“Don’t…” Harold pauses, before adding, in a whisper, “don’t tell them how I saved you on the mission. Just say you put your barrier out. I did nothing.”

“Harold, you want me to lie?”

“Please, trust me,” he pleads.

Siebren’s eyes search Harold’s, for what he doesn’t know. Answers, Harold guesses. Clarification, Harold hopes. Whatever Siebren sees, it’s enough to make him frown. “If you say so,” he whispers, patting Harold once on the shoulder before opening the door. He takes a step forward, pauses in the doorway, and looks over his shoulder. “Take care, Harold."

Harold lets out a breath he doesn’t even realise he’s holding, brushes his hands on his clothes, and heads for the elevator. He presses a button on the wall, waits for the door to close. His heart pumps wildly in his chest, not in excitement or love but in fear. Thinking back on the previous few minutes during the interview fills him with a deep feeling of dread, but even he could not point out what made him feel this way. 

 Harold waits patiently in his bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed, staring into his worn and wrinkled hands. He pulls the sleeve higher, gazing at the veins and arteries that runs down his arm. He flexes his arm, squeezes his fist tight, and watches as his blood vessels begin to glow. He stretches his hand out wide, shaking with effort, the glow dripping up his palm to his fingertips. He tries to maintain the light but the cold chill crawls under his skin as fatigue sets in. After three seconds, his arm drops limply to his side. He props his left arm up with the right and tries again and again to maintain it. With every attempt, his flesh loses a bit more colour. After the tenth attempt, he's forced to stop.

He asked Siebren to meet him here after dinner—to talk, he said. To tell the truth of his abilities and give some clarity for what happened that day, Harold wanted to say, but he feels the eyes on his back with every step he takes. It has to be here, where privacy is as assured as it can be.  

Maybe while he’s at it, he can tell Siebren that he knows how he feels about him. That he feels the same way. That maybe they can start their romance anew.

The time that they agreed upon came and went, and Siebren was nowhere to be seen. The clock ticks on and Harold can’t help but wonder what happened. Siebren is usually a punctual person, and always leaves a message of his whereabouts on the few occasions he is late. Impatient concern grew in his lungs. His mother’s words flutter in his mind. Yí r­­ì s­ān qi­­ū, she whispers to the wind. One day without him feels like three autumns. You miss him.

I love him, his own voice corrected. He’s surprised by the conviction in the tone, like it's an assured fact. A universal truth.

Half an hour later, the door slides open. Harold sits up expectantly, his heart leaping out of his chest. Siebren’s smile is soft and full of relief and breathtaking. Harold is ready to hold Siebren tight and kiss him fully on the lips, but he falters when the door opens fully to reveal the forms of Moira and Sanjay.

“Subject—Dr. Winston,” Moira corrects, “we’ve been looking at your scientific work, and after some discussion, I think we can offer you a full position in one of our sister organisations.”

Sanjay pulls a piece of paper from a folder and hands it for Harold to read. It’s a pamphlet for a shining metropolis. Young adults frolic about, carrying books and computers as they sit in the shade of a tree or walk by the many stone paths. They smile widely to the camera, the rest of their faces hidden behind intricate golden masks. The writing is all in Arabic, but he recognizes it to be a university. 

“The Ministries of Oasis have been looking for new scientists to join its legion. After seeing the research you two have been producing here both in the present and the past, I think you both shall be a good fit.”

“Both?” Harold asks.

Siebren smiles. “There is a position open for me at the Ministry of Physics. Who knew that Dr. O’Deorain is the Minister of Genetics for Oasis? How funny the world can be sometimes,” He chuckled. “I must say, I’ve always wanted to visit. And it certainly beats being holed up here, does it not?”

Harold cannot respond. Sanjay is staring at him intently with the kind of withering gaze that unravels weak men. He turns his head to Moira, forcing a polite smile on his face. “I'm afraid you have a misconception about my career. Though I also have a background in physics, my specialization is in biology and animal science.”

“The Ministry of Biology is also looking for new recruits. I believe you will work quite well there,” Moira states. “Of course, these positions I’m offering are not for free. You will have to compete with other scientists with equal pedigrees for these positions. It is highly competitive. I can give my recommendations to help you out, but the rest is up to your skills and intellect, and of course how well you do the interviews. But I can safely say you have a very good chance of getting in should you take this opportunity.”

“It sounds too good to be true, doesn't it?” Siebren smiles.

Harold cannot smile back. In the past he would leap at the opportunity, but he’s not blind to the world anymore. He sees the glimmer in Moira’s eyes, the tight jaw on Sanjay’s face, and knows they see something he doesn’t. They see the bigger picture, the grand scheme of things. Him and Siebren, they are just cogs in a machine, chess pieces in a game.

Every bit of self-preservation tells him to refuse but one glance at Siebren quells their reservations. If this really is danger, he won’t let Siebren go alone. He will protect Siebren however best he can, even if it means going into the belly of the beast. He’s spent a lifetime away from Siebren, and he can’t bear to be apart from him. Not again.

“A wonderful opportunity,” Harold says blankly. He turns to Moira. “Do I need to prepare anything for the trip?”

Moira smiles genuinely for once, her eyes crinkled with what appears to be amusement. 

It's not long before Moira and Sanjay finally leave. As soon as they’re gone, Harold shuts the door behind Siebren. He opens his mouth to say something, but Harold approaches him swiftly and holds him in a crushing hug. He feels Siebren stiffen for a few seconds before relaxing. Harold feels a hand trails tenderly over his upper back, mapping stars and constellations. His eyes flutter from the sensation.

“What’s with you, Harold?” Siebren asks, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Harold doesn’t respond. He just clutches tighter, burying his face into Siebren’s shoulder, inhaling that deep scent of sugar and pine nuts that clings onto Siebren’s clothes. As Siebren chuckles quietly, a ditty hummed under his breath, all Harold can think of is the strength of the arms holding him, safe and strong and warm.

Just this once he’ll be selfish, he tells himself, as he nuzzles into the junction between Siebren’s neck and shoulder and feels a lifetime of autumns shed their leaves beneath his feet.

[langstwhynot]

Green field

Warnings: death, grammar mistakes.

The light green cover of grass on the dark brown dirt spread along the view far away, enough for it to reach the high mountains that you could see under the big fluffy white clouds.

The sky was light blue, and the sun hid behind a big cloud that moved slowly with the chilly wind, making the long blades of grass to lean down as well when it passed by once in a while.

The sound like it didn’t exist, only the birds who flew near the trees far away from the open field that called for their partners-to-flight and hit their wings in the air, with the leaves of the dark green trees brushing against each other when the wind came again after a few minutes, were heard. That was it. The things you could hear.

But it was so quiet, or so unimportant to listen to, that you won’t even notice their noise.

Lance lay on the grass, his jacket falling to his sides onto the ground to show his white blue shirt and his eyes facing up to the sky.

It was nice and peaceful, calm and comfortable.

He looked up to the clouds who took time to flew away because of how big they were. He always thought that they were beautiful.

Or maybe because his mind made them beautiful.

He couldn’t explain it, how every time they almost made him tear, or how the blank blue void joining them in the background made his heart clutch into itself. And at night- when the moon rose up and the shining dots of white lit his skin when he would walk outside home at times he shouldn’t- made a smile appear on his face.

Lance could spend hours on hours staring into the nothingness that covered the earth. He would think about how Earth was a floating ball of dirt in the middle of black, that doesn’t really have another name and explanation other than “space”.

He wanted to be up there, within the stars.

He wanted to discover and find other worlds, he wanted to see different creatures and nature that science never knew of. He wanted to learn the deepest secrets of the universe, maybe even tell them to others and open their eyes to the unknown.

But he was just a boy from Cuba.

Why would a boy from Cuba, who has done pretty much nothing in life, would find the truth to existence. The truth to the infinity.

The truth to everything.

He was nothing special, he didn’t save people from death itself, or cured illnesses, or solved world hunger, he was just...

Lance McClain.

A boy from Cuba.

He took a deep breath and realized that he had closed his eyes, so he opened them again and found nothing else than the bright blue sky and clouds. His ears focused on the birds and the leaves brushing against each other, and his mind was blank.

Stupid field, making him think to much.

“Hey.” A soft voice called from behind him. Lance pushed himself up with his elbows and turned his head around, lifting his back from the ground so he will be able to look.

“Oh, hi ma.” He gave her a small smile and leaned back on the grass. She stepped forward and lay next to Lance, for his right side.

They didn’t say anything for the first few minutes, just looking up to the clouds as they both lay on the green grass next to each other.

“What are you thinking about?”

Lance turned his head to his right side to see his mother looking at him, her elbow is lifting up her arm as she leaned on her hand.

“Life.” He smiled, and she chuckled.

Lance moved his head back to lie his face up to the sky and they both fell into silence again.

“Is there something that bothering you?” She asked, and Lance took a deep breath when she finished asking the question.

“No... yes... it’s complicated.” He pulled his arm up and ran his left hand through his hair. He turned his head again to face her, and she just raised her eyebrow with a grin.

“Ok, fine.” He took his other hand up to his face and covered it with both. “I’m just... I don’t know, curious.” He pulled his hands down and looked into his mother’s eyes for help.

She smiled at him. “Is it about the Garrison? You got accepted.” She reminded him, and Lance nodded and sighed. “Something like that.” He murmured.

He turned his head back to his mother when she looked at him in disbelief. “I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you...” he smiled and rubbed his face again. “I... I just don’t get why they let me in.” He spoke fast, but not fast enough for his mother to understand.

“What do you mean? You have a great potential and you’re a talented boy!” She talked loudly, offended that her own son couldn’t see his greatness. “Perhaps they need someone like you, that seeks for more.” She smiles at him, and he smiled back.

Then it was quiet again, for more 3 minutes, before Lance asked. “What do you think there’s out there?” He said, looking into the endless blue ceiling.

His mother eyed at him with a confused look, but then she smiled as understood what he meant to. “I don’t know.” She looked up as well.

Lance turned to her with his full body. “You can guess! That’s the fun thing about it.” He said in excitement. She shook her head. “I really don’t know, no human does.” She turned to him, but just with her head. “I think we, the humans, are not creative enough to think and imagine things like that.”

Lance eyes widened a bit in confusion and surprise.

“Everything we imagine is because of something we saw, or heard about, or took pieces of memories and put them together.” She explained calmly. “But if there are other worlds out there with living creatures, they must look far different from what we can think of, since we never saw an alien.”

Oh.

“Well said, ma.” He smiled at her. “But I think, that if the universe is infinity, so there must be some kind of creatures that will be familiar to us.” He leaned back on the ground. ”that means me can still imagin.” he smiled to himself.

“I guess so.” She laughed quietly to herself.

Lance could remember that place.

The green grass, with it’s long green blades. And the dark green trees, that stood proudly far away. And the birds who called for each other once in a while. The mountains in the background, under the big fluffy white clouds. And the chilly wind with the sun that hid.

He could remember their conversation, what he thought about, what it felt like just lying there in the mess of nature.

He could remember his mother’s laugh.

He could almost see the bright blue sky above him.

But now, it was gone.

The green grass was now black as coal, and the trees were tore down with their leaves lit on fire. The birds running away and flying as fast as they could and the only coulds up in the orange sky of sunset (that was supposed to be beautiful) were from smoke.

And he was standing there, in front of that broken gravestone. In front of the burnt flowers who sat together in a bouquet on the dirt.

He was standing there in front of her.

And she was gone, too.

It was ironic, actually. How they talked about the aliens, and what’s beyond the sky, in that stupid universe.

How it actually killed her off.

He started laughing as the tears fell down his face.

She was right, he could have never imagine that.

Because if he could, she would be still here, she would be alive, she would praise him and hug him and tell him how much she missed her youngest son who was missing for two years.

And he would tell her about space, and how beautiful it is, and how he is one of the defenders of the universe and that he is something important.

Not just a boy from Cuba.

He fell on his knees and buried his face in his hands.

Stupid green field, making him think too much.

[natkenner]

Attack II Self-Para

Once again Natalie had been roaming around Hogsmeade. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, maybe she hoped to bump into another Hogwarts student or maybe she longed for the peace and comfort the small, cozy town always gave her, but she did know that she felt different than she usually did.

She had spent the last few weeks at school, waltzing her way through all the courses and trying to get the best grades on everything, going to her martial arts practices, singing whenever she got the chance and playing tennis with friends in front of her house. Her family had a small house in Park Parade, Cambridge, a street that - you guessed it - is right opposite the park. On the inside the house was bigger of course, thanks to one of her parents’ useful spells, and from her room she was able to look out onto the green of the trees and fields of grass. Another perk from living in the house she lived in, was that her mother had a store right on the ground floor, filling their house with noise and the smell of baked goods. Natalie despises silence and the sound of the bell of the little bakery and the screeching of her dad’s quill against his pages that came from his office was a nice way to fill in the void her older sister had left behind.

Phoebe still lived in the house with them, but most of the time she was at the ministry for auror training. It was nice to have her back instead of being gone for ten months each year, but the house still felt lonelier than it did before she had left for Hogwarts.

Today had been her first day off in a while, so she had asked her mom to drop her off. She felt bad for still not having introduced her to Maggie, but even though her parents were aching to meet her, they had promised it would all be on Natalie’s terms. Natalie loved them for that. Ever since they had found out, they had focused their attention on Natalie’s comfort, making sure she knew how much her parents still loved her and that just because they’re might be a Maggie now too, they wouldn’t stop loving her. She felt bad though, because she didn’t feel like she was ready - or maybe she just didn’t want things to change yet - but she could feel how much her mother wanted to meet Maggie. And Natalie was pretty sure Maggie wanted to meet her as well.

Maybe that’s why she had left the house, because she was feeling selfish and needed time to think. No one at her muggle school knew about what was going on at her home, not even her best friend Elizabeth, but that she felt proud of. She felt proud for still being a part of the wizarding world by not breaching the international statute of secrecy.

As she had spent an hour in the three broomsticks already, she was now walking through the main road of Hogsmeade. She had wanted to be around people, but she also wanted to be alone, so she had gone to the three broomsticks and had held an interesting conversation with a wizard with long red hair and an emerald green cloak covering up a tracks suit underneath. He had even been so kind as to order a firewhiskey for her, though he drew the line at one glass. She would have tried to meet up with Aengus somewhere, but he was on a camping trip or something. As the autumn came on fast, a cold breeze already came through the small village and it felt beautiful as the sun was setting over the mountain. She had promised her parents that she’d be back before nightfall, as the wizarding world could be dangerous in the darkness, and they had given her a portkey that would transport her right back when she needed to be. Right now though, Natalie decided to take a walk towards the back of town. She usually didn’t go that far, preferring the magical center of the city, but she had remembered something about the Shrieking Shack the day before and she wanted to see it for herself.

Once she was standing at the edge of the forest that separated the Shrieking Shack from the town and she could see the dingy house, a chill went down her spine. The scenery was almost peaceful; the wooden enclosure around the grass lawn, the few trees that surrounded the small building and the indigo colour of the sky that was slowly turning darker as a background.

She had read that it had gotten it’s infamous name due to a werewolf that used to go to Hogwarts, but had died in the Battle of Hogwarts, so she figured it was safe now. Besides, most of the werewolves had gone underground again, preferring to stay away from magical and non-magical cities alike, even though her parents had still warned her to be careful at all times.

Plus, she still had the portkey that was supposed to take her away any time now. Almost on instinct she reached up to her neck at this thought, but her eyes went wide as she couldn’t feel anything.

Portkey.

Portkey.

Shit. Natalie touched her hands all around her neck and chest, looking for the necklace, but she couldn’t feel anything. Reaching into her bag, she almost turned it inside out as she tried to find it, but she knew that she hadn’t put it in there.

Shit shit shit. She checked all her pockets, checked her hair and shirt to make sure it hadn’t gotten stuck somewhere and looked around all over the ground, but no luck. Natalie groaned as she checked her phone nervously, starting to feel nauseous as she realized she was twenty minutes too late. How could she have missed it?

She figured she must have lost it at the three broomsticks or something, but she still couldn’t get over the fact that she had realized it so late. If her parents had been home tonight, they would have come to pick her up herself as soon as they had found the portkey, but just today they were out for some formal meeting about her father’s writing.

Starting to make her way back towards the center of town, wondering if she could ask anyone for help there, she turned all her frustration towards the person or being in the sky that must be responsible for this. She wasn’t religious, but this must be some sick joke from something. How many times had she come to Hogsmeade alone? If she had lost it on any day other than today, she would have been fine, but just the one day her parents were out, this happened.

And to top all that, it was a full moon tonight.

She hadn’t realized it before, but now she stopped in her tracks at the realization. Looking up at the blue sky above her head, her eyes widened slightly in fear as she saw the blue orb shining at her from above, almost laughing sardonically at her.

How could something that looked so beautiful, something she had always welcomed during evenings spent at home or midnight walks through the public garden, suddenly feel so cruel, cold and fearsome.

It would be fine though. Totally fine. She told herself. After all, there hadn’t been any werewolf sightings around Hogsmeade and she was almost back at the beginning of the main road. Why was she still standing still?

She immediately started to move again, walking towards the city center as fast as she could without actually running. She didn’t want to attract any attention either and she was afraid of actually having a full-on panic attack if she gave into her fear. She always hated feeling afraid, which is why she took martial arts classes twice a week and why she loved to sing; it made her feel safer.

She might not have a wand, but she wasn’t completely useless either and she prided herself on that.

Suddenly she felt her heart beating in her ear as she felt like someone was watching her. Turning her head around, she tried to see if something might be hiding behind the trees she had just left behind, but it was hard to make anything out through the darkness that had so quickly fallen after dawn. She started walking backwards, moving her head around, checking each tree, weird shape in the bushes or rustling of leaves, figuring safety was behind her as long as she kept her eyes on her bearings. She jumped with a small yelp as she thought she could make out soft growling over the sound of her own heartbeat, that was increasing rapidly, and the feeling of eyes on her started to get worse.

Now she started running - she might be a Gryffindor, but she’s not stupid; there was no way she could fight this thing and win - and she didn’t look back to see if that thing was following her. As she felt the stones of the paved road underneath her, she sighed in relief, but before she could completely feel like she had made it to safety, something jumped over her and blocked the road in front of her.

Natalie screamed and stepped back as far as possible. The thing was huge. It stood on two feet ... or paws... or whatever you like to call it, and it must be about seven or eight feet. It was leaning over slightly, almost as if it had a hunchback, and a long pointy snout. She might have never followed defence against the dark arts, but she knew enough to recognize the creature with clawed hands and sharp teeth in front of her as a werewolf.

And no it wasn’t cute and fluffy like in Twilight.

This was terrifying.

And just like that, Natalie felt useless again. No martial arts classes could safe her now and no song could make her feel less petrified.