#shes so right about it being a double-edged sword with people who care enough to tell this story on film

[jaidenk-nox]

Elizabeth midford

Shitty 2AM rant on the Misogyny that Lizzy has faced since the very start but it's the perspective of someone who has witnessed the horrors of Misogyny in Spanish speaking fandom

I should mention that English is not my first language and I'm not very good with it either, so most of this was done with Google Translate and I tried to correct what I could, I hope it's at least readable

I've never seen enough people point out the fact that Elizabeth midford character also defies the "Girlboss" archetype, she is definitely physically strong and can protect herself, but she is A 15 YEAR OLD GIRL, who manages her emotions like someone her age would and also exhibits many neurodivergent traits. I have always been bothered by the way physical strength is misunderstood as a "girlboss" trait, the simplest example I can think of is Ran Mao, she possesses brutal and superhuman strength. but it doesn't make her a girlboss, in case anyone forgets Ran is a girl who barely reaches 18 years old and is exploited by an opium trader who also seems to be involved in human trafficking (implied in the manga). Is she really a girlboss? girlboss when her physical strength is more of a requirement to SURVIVE while working as an assassin and sometimes seductress (which u can tell she doesn't enjoy much)? Obviously Ranmao's social reality is very different as she is a woman of color from the underworld, unlike Elizabeth, who is a white woman from the nobility. However, her physical strength has always been a double-edged sword for herself. Lizzy longs to get married, like any other girl her age, she longs to be protected but says goodbye to it the moment Ociel returns.

I may seem a bit exaggerated, but the way your sociocultural background affects the way you perceive and treat a character has me slightly traumatized, I wish I could give proof of the horrible and degrading treatment that Lizzy has received from the Spanish-speaking fandom.

I am a trans boy of color who grew up watching my female relatives being encouraged to rip their hearts out of their chest from the moment they turned 8yo for the simple goal of caring for and protecting my cis male relatives. household chores, cooking for them, washing their clothes, taking accountability for their actions. Their freedom and childhood as little girls were taken away from them. but none of that was ever valued, I never saw anyone recognize it as sacrifice.

Elizabeth is not a woman of color, nor does she have those demands as a woman of nobility, but she SACRIFICED stuff to try to protect Ciel on her own way, I have seen many people underestimate her backstory in book of Atlantic because "High heeled shoes aren't reason to cry." Everything Lizzy has done for Ciel is devalued, all her suffering has been minimized. losing so many family members in such a short time, losing the boy you were raised to marry your entire life. People truly forget that lizzy is still just a child, that she has the right to mourn everything she lost that day. She had to mourn publicly as a noble girl,she probably heard that she would never be able to get married or would never achieve happiness, I've never seen any adult to stop and think about how heartbreaking and soul shattering that must have been as a 11yo

I have seen how EVERY thing Lizzy does is judged. how her behavior, personality and temperament are criticized. but other characters like Soma just get a pass while doing the same stuff, but this does not just stop at gender, but also at age. people HATE girls and afabs who act like children when they are literally CHILDREN.

How is it possible that Lizzy has faced such harsh judgment from the fandom when there are other characters like Maam red, Lau, Grell, Undertaker who are universally ADORED or atleast respected in the fandom.

I love u Elizabeth midford but ur character makes me violently ill omfg

[balanceoflightanddark]

Azula and Responsibility

Should Azula take responsibility for what she's done? This is a question that the fandom has repeatedly asked in discussions about her and the possibility of redemption.

The answer is obviously "yes". Every way you slice it, she wasn't exactly the best person. She hurt her friends, treating them more like soldiers than people. She wasn't the best sister. She did support her father and the Fire Nation's imperialistic cause. If she wants to improve, she ultimately does need to take responsibility. That's not in debate.

What is in debate is "how much"?

There is a difference between "personal responsibility" and "systemic accountability". Personal responsibility is doing what you realistically can for yourself to right wrongs and better yourself. Systemic accountability is when the issue is so huge, it can't be solved by a single person alone or can realistically only be handled by those in power.

Now what does this mean in regards to Azula? Well it means is that while she should take responsibility, it's unfair to expect her to take responsibility for what she had no control over. She should apologize to Ty Lee and Mai for how she treated then. However, she shouldn't be expected to take personal responsibiliy for being indrocinated to believe that mindset of "fear is the only reliable way". At most, she should learn that it's wrong and make amends for that. Not beat herself up for believing it in the first place.

Same thing with Zuko. She does need to work on her end to better their relationship. Yet she can't be expected to do all the heavy lifting on her end when Zuko wasn't the best brother to her either. Should she take some responsibility for her part in the war? Yeah, but it's unfair to bury her with all the crimes her nation and father caused. Even if you want to argue that she was the one who suggested the "burning the Earth Kingdom" plan, it was Ozai who drafted, organized, and implemented it when all she did was bring it up as a possibility.

The thing about responsibility is that it's a double edged sword. You need to know what you're taking responsibility for. If you take too much responsibility for stuff you had absolutely no control over, you're creating this mountain of guilt and crimes. Eventually it becomes insurmountable and you end up being burnt out and feeling like an irredeemable piece of shit. Which is what Azula already feels like. She feels she's a monster that can't redeem or change herself. So what's forcing her to take up so much guilt going to do? Either she's going to double down on her belief, or she's going to do something pretty damn stupid and almost suicidal in some misguided attempt to atone.

And she does know she screwed up. She does know she treated Mai and Ty Lee unfairly. Azula said so herself in the mirror scene. Besides, why else would she at least care about either of them in "The Beach" or try to do right by them? Was it unhealthy and didn't reach the root of the problem. Yes, but at least the intent is there. The problem is that Azula wasn't able to realize that treating your friends like soldiers is inherently toxic. And if we want to get on her case about being a bad sister, she was willing to try and build up bridges with Zuko in Book 3. Multiple times as a matter of fact. It's just that Zuko's resentment and experiences in the Earth Kingdom changed him that it just wasn't feasible.

It's not that Azula shouldn't take responsibility for what she's done. She should, and obviously is willing to. It's more of a question when enough is enough. Where should she draw the line when taking too much responsibility?

[sepublic]

            “You assume Belos’ goal comes from a genuine place. But that man doesn’t care about anything but his need to be the hero in his own delusion, and because of that, he fears what he can’t control.”

         I think of this line in the context of the previous episode being For the Future, and how the Titan’s description of Belos is meant to contrast with who Luz is as a person. Because in FtF’s climax, Camila has a breakthrough with Luz regarding her self-loathing for mistakes and things that frankly were out of her control, that Luz shouldn’t blame herself for; As Camila reminds her daughter, mistakes happen sometimes. That’s okay. And we try to prevent bad things from happening…

         But in Camila’s case especially, that attempt to control things to protect her daughter just alienated Luz, hurt her deeply. Likewise, Luz’s hero complex evolves over the course of the series… It becomes less openly glamorous and more ‘humble’, but in a way it still exists. When Luz blames herself for her friends being separated from their parents even though that wasn’t even her call, it’s because she thinks she’s the hero. When she blames herself for helping Philip, it’s because Luz is the hero. When Luz, a freaking teenager, can’t help Eda against this genocidal dictatorship, it’s because Luz is the hero and she’s failed.

         Luz still has this unhealthy expectation of herself; Where she’s supposed to actively repent for her past selfishness and mistakes by fixing everything. She’s supposed to be the friend who takes the burden for others, who doesn’t saddle them with her own issues. Luz is supposed to help Eda with her curse, and later with her family situation with Gwen. Luz is trying to direct her attention outwards, towards others, but there’s ultimately this unintentionally self-centered approach where if bad things happen, it’s a reflection on Luz as a person, and she is basically the only who can determine what happens, the input of others ignored.

         That leads to risky maneuvers, like when Luz attempts to take Hunter's place against Belos at the skull, or hides the truth to keep the others from worrying. It’s this misguided desire to be the self-sacrificial martyr, another kind of hero. It’s this need to feel like Luz is in control; That she CAN fix things on her own, that she CAN help, and she COULD have done something, meaning if things go wrong regardless, it’s Luz’s fault.

         It’s a double-edged sword of claiming autonomy, because it means Luz refuses to blame outside factors for her failures, it’s all on her. It’s comforting in its own way to think she could’ve done something better, because it means Luz can do better next time, right? It means Luz doesn’t have to worry about the uncertainty of the future if she just tries hard enough, correct?

         But Camila has to remind her daughter that you can try your best and still fail. You’re still human (for lack of a better term), just as Willow is when she isn’t able to keep everything going smoothly in that same episode. And that’s alright; You can take responsibility, but you can’t overcompensate and consider yourself the ‘hero’ in charge of everyone’s wellbeing. Which brings me back to that point about the Titan summarizing the differences between Luz and Belos, what makes one good and the other bad, so to speak;

         Belos fears what he can’t control, because he needs to be the hero who controls everything and can accomplish whatever he wants; Look how much he thrives on having control over people, manipulating them, adapting to a situation, it makes him feel clever and superior. But Luz, while she afraid for a bit… Thanks to her mother, she’s finally begun to accept that she can’t control things. Luz isn’t the perfect hero, she needs the help of others. She’ll make mistakes, or even make no mistakes and still lose! Luz can’t do everything to look after her mother or vice-versa, you have to let people do their own thing, and that also includes herself.

         Luz does legitimately care about others; She’ll consider other points of view, like she did when showing sympathy to Amity early in their interactions. Luz can reevaluate what she does because it’s about doing right, not being right, even if it might not be as glamorous. Contrast that with Belos, who refuses to admit that he could’ve made the wrong call about witches and his brother, because then he’s not the hero.

         And his need to be right matters more than helping people, which is why Belos sacrifices his own brother rather than letting go of that narrative of himself as the one saving humanity. If he were just misguided, he’d have eventually accepted there was nothing to worry about (Philip is very perceptive, he can tell), but Belos didn’t because that meant no longer being the hero, and he knew his priorities when pushed to choose only one. A classic case of bias distorting reasonable analysis.

         They both wanted to be the hero, and there’s nothing inherently wrong with that; After all, Eda specifies at the end of Witches before Wizards that you can still healthily engage with reality, while also working to achieve your dreams. That’s how Luz’s character arc ends, too; She gets to become the hero she wanted to be, while still engaging with the people and world around her and not becoming entitled or arrogant.

         There’s nothing wrong with Luz wanting things for herself, nothing wrong with Luz thinking about or prioritizing herself, despite what her self-loathing claims. Despite her decision to stay in the human world because choosing a place she’s happy is a mistake that hurt her mother. But you have to keep other people in mind… You have to critically examine and ask yourself; Is it really about helping others and making sure all is okay, or is it simply the satisfaction of being the savior who corrects these NPCs, and wants an evil to campaign against? Which will you prioritize? This is especially relevant in progressive circles, which fits given TOH’s politics.

         Likewise, you gotta remember yourself, too. You don’t have to be 100% pure and selfless in your motives when helping people, it’s okay to want to be loved in return. You don’t have to necessarily choose between others and yourself, and Luz doesn’t have to choose between both worlds, or what kind of magic she uses, her type of Palisman, etc.

[heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon]

One such example of the difference between "Good" and genuinely bad form vivziepop/Hazbin Hotel Fans that drive everyone to hatred, is that are those of us who are absolutely avoiding the leaks and want fuck all to do with that shit and will block you if you so much as mention it to us, and can afford to do such a thing as a fully matured adult audience with lives and interests outside of just constant cartoon consumption....

And then there's genuinely off putting pigfucker bitches like petitprinces1 who are so sloppy they can't be bothered to find a header that isn't a moving gif with the freaking "AMAZON" logo still attached and they're just like:

"Erm....Yusss.....x3 I seen da leaks.....x3 Nope wont spoil anythin' even tho im answering asks abt it right the fuck now n' addressing Viv herself like shes in da room w me rn anyway KUDDOS Viv i did NAWT see dat 1 cumming!!!! x3 If da rest of u who put the dumb in fandumb literally want lil' ol' meh, ur reigning princess of stupidity, to send u the leaks so u can potentially spread them moar bein an idiot like i am plz DM meh cuz u kno ill delete u if ur dumb enough to actually ask in a reply id rather if u ask me to spread the leaks 4 u in meh DMs if ur gonna ask 4 leaks cuz im not a regular fandumb mom im a 20% COOLER fandumb mom!!! x3 Im so cool that if u ask me for leaks in my replies I GUESS....... ill prolly just delete ur comment instead of just blocking u like everyone else would bc im different and *i* have no boundaries and *i* dont know *HOW* to block ppl!!! x3 i also apparently wrote DISNEY JUNIOR FANFICTION at one point when i was in my late late teens/early early 20s which would imply i went directly from *THAT* to HAZBIN which explains a lot about me dont it? x3 ANYWAY HMU VIA DM IF U WANT ALL DA SEASON 2 LEAKS!!! x3"

Like gurl ...

Like, gurl...

Fake arse fan here to stress real people out just like like all the shitty clickbait bros here only you're a little Candace Owens about it it...

Speaking of Candace...

Uh, once again, my name is NOT "Hearts" and yes the fuck I did Ashface Snitchdale, again, it's free internetz, it's my hot blog and I do what I want, and yo' mama's been blocked for over 4+ years even before she tried and failed to troll me via block evading on anon... I just use an incognito now sometimes when I wanna roll my eyes because my block and stayfree options get broken and I'm forced to perceive she exists and re-block her anyway, keep scrollin'!

Oh and again, it's not "a real double edged sword" or whatever the fuck fandumb centrist bullshit that petitprincess1 is spouting as she's helping spread the leaks to people and let us be very fucking black and white about this okay? Okay. READY? I DON'T CARE! :D

If you indulge the leaks or help spread them, in public or in DMs... You are not a true fan... You are a fake fan... And you need to delete and leave the fandom!

If you: "Feel bad for being happy or excited over something that was so devastating for the crew and feel guilty for finding joy or even 'relief' in those leaks 'because of the results' of the US election.." or whatever the fuck bullshit excuse you made up to help you feel better or whatever... I'm paraphrasing because I don't fucking care what made you do it ... You SHOULD feel bad, you SHOULD feel guilty... You are not a true fan, you're a fake fan.... You not only need to delete and leave the fandom, BUT, you should feel even WORSE for confiding all of your bullshit to the tumblr fandumbs biggest bullshitter, Leeanne, (petitprincess1) someone who should've deleted her online presence years ago for presenting and behaving with all the tackiness and immaturity a of young/republican Trump Supporter anyway... THERE I SAID IT, and I'm probably not the only one too! I mean Viv herself is like... The cutest lil' Scene Kitten/Drunk Girlie at the party who actually thought Coconut Charli XCX Lady would win while raving to that Practical Magic Margarita Song all night long while making Actual Margaritas ...Those of you of you who've actually indulged the leaks and spoiled yourselves for ANY reason are selfish and entitled (as I always knew some of you were) and should be ashamed for doing that to her! You are not true fans. You are not one of us. Leave the fandom.

To think I once called out petitprincess1 for stealing my friends shit and running them off the internet and block evading to further harass me and now I'm calling her out for being complacent and helping spread leaks of the second season of Medrano's entire show! I was going to make a sort of Deep Cut TMI (for some of you people, not for me..) joke about how me and Leeanne ("apparently") shared "the same" Blorbo in the "Lion King" fandom albeit in two entirely Different Eras of Fandom ( mine being the superior one) but I think all of the obvious caveats and quotation would imply how I don't even so much as acknowledge disney junior shit as canon and because I don't watch shows meant for toddlers and therefore it's not the same fandom and not even the same "blorbo" at all and then I got angry and went on the other, more important, vent session because, yeah... It really did all just come down to one big, full circle of bullshit with her this time, didn't it? I'm truly done!

Like, bye bitch I'm never tipping your lolcow again.

Speaking of tipping... She's probably never actually paid an artist in this fandom or brought any actual art in like a while has she? No.

I peek at her blog to see if she posted her playbill if she even paid for one and I find something so much worse.

Oof.

[aenbyveryverygayperson]

Ocs for obscure au!!!!!

Ash - nb, late 50s, you could name almost any island in the world and they would have a story abt something absolutely ridiculous that they did or that happened to them on said island. They know the flaws with the military but when you meet them they're still loyal enough. They've earned retirement six times over but they refuse to retire until their rifle arm falters because they don't really have a family to retire to or friends outside the military that are still alive. A little curmudgeony but in a soft way around the people they love. Opinion on Coby: Iffy, but they're loyal

Kasha - f, mid 20s, morally questionable, no one's sure why she joined the military but she's been pissed with the entire system since her first child was born and she only got 2 weeks of unpaid maternity leave. Kairoseki hime ✨. She's only gotten away with the amount of treason speech she spouts because she's really a great fighter with her seastone sword, and also because Coby took one look at her and said 'I want That One' and she's been on his team since. (Coby doesn't care about loyalty to the marines, only loyalty to him specifically) She doesn't have her second child until she leaves the military to be a sick ass pirate lesbian. Also she's got game for miles in both directions, and she's fully aware. She's got charisma around everyone except Nami which is tragic because it makes it harder for them to be pirate lesbians together with Kasha's two kids. Opinion on Coby: Positive, aware of his mental state, she doesn't care he offered her paid maternity leave for her second kid and then when she decided she wanted to leave he got her, Ash and Kenny the in with the strawhats to start traveling with them

Kenith/Kenny, mid teens, he doesn't know how he got his friends, he just introduced himself as Kenith one day and Ash started dragging him places and calling him Kenny and being honestly a pretty great mentor and good company in the mess hall. Kasha thought he was a choreboy and not Coby's right hand and bullied him into watching her son and that somehow caused a friendship. He's still kind of reeling, but he's good at rolling with the punches. He's really young for his position, like ridiculously so, which is why Coby was the only one that wanted him. He's really smart though, very analytical, very quick on his feet, also the only one that could overpower Coby with base strength alone, sadly he's also very unsure of himself (maybe partially Coby's fault because insecure people are easy to control-- who said that??) and unable to handle situations where he's responsible for others lives which makes his own title a double-edged sword. Opinion on Coby: Very positive, unaware of Coby's mental state

Oh no- OH GOSH

[llycaons]

ep33 (3/3): lwj earring indulgence

people rarely make wwx as self-possessed or confident as he is in canon. I'll read fic where he's like 'lan zhan I am so sorry for breathing in your direction thank you so much for giving me a square mat to sleep on I promise to behave' and he'll be SO insecure and hesitant when that's really not him! for the most part he doesn't shy away from confronting lwj or getting into his business

it's just that lwj doesn't tell him shit bc he doesn't want wwx to feel obligated to lwj which is a great impulse but wwx also likes knowing how much people care about him so it's a bit of double-edged sword?

they're helpfully reminding us that this kid's name is yuan too

this made me laugh so hard. he's standing there with his ORIGINAL FACE in his classic black robes and red ponytale, playing a flute, and he thinks playing badly is a disguise? and THEN lwj gets mad at him for fumbling their song lmao

but wwx needn't have bothered bc lqr didn't realize anyway due to being comatose. until wwx woke him up with his bad flute playing

lqr having such a strong reaction to a flute is funny bc was he even on the front lines in sunshot? they said he didn't leave the mountain very often and it's not like he's a warrior. he's probably never seen wwx play

one of his top expressions

lwj is quite strict with lsz, in his own way. not in an aggressive way, but VERY expectant of obedience

there's one single female disciple here and she stayed in the back the entire conversation before coming forward for the water basin. what, are female disciples servants who are only used for healing?

this looks so cool. green suits wwx really well honestly

perhaps I have been unfair to lsz given how annoying his character is in fanfics and how obvious of a plot device he is. but he's a nice boy, and to my surprise he's also smart!! look at him thinking through problems!

encouraging to see wwx express sentiments that before his death, he really needed someone to tell him

coming back, I think he's become in a certain sense resigned to the things in his life that happened. no use getting angry or upset over them, some things you just can't change. and this is really sad, but it's also, hopefully, indicative of a more healthy mindset in his second life

"I naturally trust you' and that's what he needs to hear, baby

also seeing them standing together makes those 'huge top' fics so funny. they are literally almost exactly the same body type and build. no lwj is not a head taller. no he is not built like a brick shithouse, his hands are not large enough to encircle wwx's waist. if anything he is slightly taller and more slight in build, where wwx is slightly bulkier. but I think his height is because of his heeled boots

damn the jingshi is really so nice. I love hat porch area and the bridge over there.

right after wwx said 'it's pointing at the person who told it to commit crimes' ljy jumped and then glared at wwx haha

omg HORSES! I didn't know they used horses! wwx bouncing like a bobblehead hehe. and all the fics insisting he only uses little apple

HANGUANG-JUN PIERCED EARS SHOT. taking this to headcanon that lwj wears earrings. let lej be a little gnc. as a treat.

this was such a strange moment. lwj walked off and left wwx behind entirely. why???

oh and this was funny. this guy seling ugly portraits that wwx took offense to

THERE HE IS!!! THE MOST DISASTER BABY OF THEM ALL!!!!

this kid kicked a civilian in the chest for saying the name 'wei wuxian' in public. he might have already been sensitive and prone to fights, but clearly his parenting has been ABYSMAL

by 'his uncle' he is talking about jc. btw. I originally thought he was referring to himself, but it just makes more sense. ha.

I hate the fairy scene possible more than any other scene in this show. why is his face so comedically twisted? why is his running so stupid-looking? unbelievable that this happened in the same episode that made me cry my eyes out

personal highlights

oh the rite of spring was INSPIRED

all of wwx's crying this episode. all of it. beautiful

cgi sword stabbing a hand my beloved <3 <3 <3

lwj's broken little 'wei ying' at the very end

everything about the jingshi opening scene. the music. the lighting. the atmosphere. the calm

wwx seeing his younger and more innocent self frolic about. as stated, I was inconsolable. I've always liked it but after today, it's going to be a very special scene to me

lwj's sexy whip scars and mysterious chest brand. can't help it. I love them. and wwx's seriousness and care during that scene was really nice too

lqr being roused by bad flute music, yelling at them to stop, then slipping into a coma and wwx sitting there like 😬 'whoops' with that funny face

wwx sitting with the bamboo background looking all cool

[arkhamcalamity]

I see

I see... // Accepting! @deathxcko

Someone who had their wings clipped. Everyone does when they end up locked within here, but sometimes it's worse than others. The corruption of the asylum was in it's walls as much as the staff. It infects everyone who enters, and it doesn't care what it takes from you in return.

And everything in her said to stay away. Your mentor signed Sybil's death certificate when he tossed her in here; it was a miracle she'd lived as long as she did. But even Sybil hadn't been subjected to the harrowing block of solitary. Well, at least not very long. Protection. That's a funny term in here. You know, Amity was held in a place not to dissimilar to this before the tree and the fire. Extensively bound, gagged, to keep her from trying to lean on gifts- there's few worse things than being locked up alone with your thoughts. Or being alone with them when you didn't know if your daughter had made it out alive. Maybe humans just aren't meant to think alone that long, or maybe the spirals just come hand in hand with silence to fill the void. So, maybe that's why she still asked for the stories.

The antagonist in other people's stories. After you're gone, you're still not really. Funny how stories work like that. People whisper about their fears, and the bullets, and on a different kind of saving. The people you help put in will get that same glassy look. They're not really here all the time. She doesn't know what to think. Humans have always been complicated fickle things with their emotions.

Someone to keep away from Olive, for now. She's not so naïve as to think that anyone who risked and gave so much to this city and people in it, regardless if they deserved it, wouldn't make themselves an ally to her descendant should they figure enough out. This has to be played right, and Amity's been playing this game for a LONG time.

That didn't mean there couldn't be a time for it. Wanting to help people can be a double edged sword, and people don't think right when they're desperate. Olive was desperate to have her mother back.... there's a plan starting up about that. Not to actually bring Sybil back, that's way beyond her scope, but she could let Olive think it. Let her get help for it. They could bring back something else.

"I see," a glassy-eyed boy, so still she thought he was dead, "a potential adversary as much as a potential ally."

[the-owl-tree]

darktail or sasha for ur ask game :}}c

sexuality headcanon

both are bi to me

gender/pronouns headcanon

mm......dont know gender but i would say she/her sasha & he/they darktail

rate them out of ten

9/10 for sasha, darktail.... 7/10

favorite thing about them

i think sasha's just an interesting character right off the bat, someone who caught the attention of tigerstar and got pulled into this horrible relationship and finally escaped. You really do feel for her when she's left to raise three kits all by herself and constantly has to choose between keeping them fed and being able to watch them.

i like Darktail as a villain and i like that he utilizes the lake, something that the clan's all live by is his greatest weapon. Drowning is scary to me so i'm probably biased lol OH and i like his moment of trying to connect with Violet

least favorite thing about them

for Sasha probably the lack of closure for her? i guess it's a double-edged sword, i kind of wish we got to learn more what happened to her and if she got the happy ending she deserved.

darktail....probably his backstory? it comes out of nowhere and doesn't add too much to anything. I'd also say the kin as a group are kind of generic bad group who hate old people, i think they could've done more with a group trying to emulate the Clans.

why i first started liking/disliking them

Sasha's manga series which i liked!! and for Darktail.....idk i think he just had enough presence in the beginning that i enjoyed what he brought to the table

do i relate/project onto/kin them?

mmm.....nah

favorite quote/moment

sasha and russetfur bonding during the hunt and when darktail drowns needletail, great scene all in all

my fav ship

sasha/scourge, sasha/smoke, sasha/russet

you have me intrigued by darktail/spiresight tho, other than that i can't see Dark with anyone

my fav platonic friendship

sasha and pine, sasha and feather (rip that)

hmm....in a bizarre way Darktail and Violetshine?? that moment where he tries to like relate to her kind of intrigued me but eh

a ship i hate

mmm no strong feelings

do i prefer canon or fanon?

canon sasha, bits and pieces of fanon darktail

random headcanon

sasha ended up with some new housefolks to take care of her or she ended up meeting the church cats and chilled there until her death

darktail's actually a rather clumsy fighter and has to go for low blows (rain's eye), have some cats accompany him, or lead the battle to the water so he can use it to his advantage)

what color do i picture them as

sasha as a toasty brown, darktail as white

cat breed headcanon

sasha as a siamese, darktail is just a fluffy boy

unpopular opinion

hmmmm......idk i don't get sasha hate tbh i just don't think she's done anything to warrant being despised. i can't even like go against her for dropping her kids off at riverclan because that's just what the erins needed for their evil brother good brother plot

darktail.....idk what's unpopular with him

things i associate with them

sasha: fireplace, sweaters, kindle

darktail: drowning, water, daddy issues

song i associate with them

hhmmmm for sasha ptolemaea by ethel cain, for darktail sense, sensibilities by ajj

favorite MAP/PMV/AMV with them

sasha - a love song to finance, a baby for sasha, hey little songbird (we need more hadestown music being used)

darktail - sweater weather, kiss me, son of god

[fablesuntold]

@dollhidden sent: ❛you're the most insufferable person i have ever met.❜ — From Nam-ra for Gwi-nam ✨

If there was one thing Gwi-nam despised more than anything in the world, it was those who wielded authority around as though it were a double edged sword.. or tried to, anyway. Teachers, the cops, lawyers, politicians.. they were all the same.

Even parents and their lacklustre little life lectures— his piece of shit father in particular who liked to use his fists as example instead of words. And people wondered why he was so fucked up in the head. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, right? Gwi-nam had to release all of that pent up rage from year long beatings at home somehow, and unfortunately that meant a whole world of pain for the weaker students attending Hyosan High. If he had to suffer, why shouldn’t everyone else be dragged through the wringer too? It was only fair. As their homeroom teacher so often liked to insist: ‘they were all this together!’ What a lying bitch.

Driving his foot as hard as he could into his latest victim’s rib cage, Gwi-nam watched in amusement as they tried desperately to scurry further away from him on hands and knees, body curled in on itself pathetically with shaky sobs begging for mercy and for him to stop. Another thing he loathed.. being told what to do. “Come on now, I’m not done with you. Get up.” A warning sneered out through gritted teeth which apparently went unheard over their whimpering. Hmph. That simply wouldn’t do.

However, before he could get another kick in or demand they bring themselves to their feet again.. the all too familiar firm tone of his Class President called out from behind him, causing Gwi-nam to whirl around to glower at her. ‘You’re the most insufferable person I have ever met.’ Insufferable, huh? Oh that made him cackle. “Yeah~?” Stepping over the poor soul still shaking on the ground, Gwi-nam stalked toward his new point of interest until he was looming over Nam-ra’s much smaller frame. “And do you really think I care about some stuck up little bitch’s opinion of me?” Canting his head to the side, a devilish smirk soon tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I suggest you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut.. there’s only so much that mommy’s cash can do to protect you when she isn’t around, and I’m sure she wouldn’t want you getting all bruised and broken now, would she~?” A subtle threat, one that Gwi-nam wouldn’t hesitate to follow through on if she pushed him hard enough.

[absfawn]

hehe another andersonfilms fic drop, chat! number one fan here, i don’t wanna hear anything else from ya’ll. i’m number one, always. haven’t even read it yet and i know it’s going to be so amazing and yummy. can’t promise i’ll hold back on my mushiness and gay ass shit, but i’ll contain it. for now. maybe. i’ll let ya’ll know. maybe. anywho, rambling in the reblogs are clearly my favorite!! that’s a slay, chat. eren shut up challenge: impossible.

“You know you don’t have to stand this close to me.” Abby counters, but her words didn’t make you move an inch. Not that she really thought they would. Secretly, she enjoys your gentle touch. She likes how comfortable you feel around her. The downpour in New York has your arm entangled with her own, your hand gripping her bicep as she holds the umbrella.

baby girl …. you’re the love of my life, you smell good, of course, i’m going to stand very close to you, and get a whiff of that sexy musk you have. okay but abby having an inner gay moment because she loves how safe you feel around her #NEEDTHAT 🥰 ugh abby, my chance when? reader this, reader that, when is it abby x eren????

“God, forbid your hair be in ruin, sweet girl.” Abby’s wet lips look inviting, especially when she’s smirking at you. Delectable, enticing, desired seeping underneath your soul as you try your best to keep them at bay. 

abby calling me sweet girl…. yeah i’m going to need at least 6 business years to recover from that one!!!!!!! even the way you write into depth about a look, or how her lips look, has me 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠 like yes please smirk at me, i will fumble, but it’s fine! i’ll let you call me whatever but keep looking at me like you are so in love with me.

“I can see that smile.” 

okay you’re not gonna catch me smiling at my computer like this!!!!!!!! just kidding, reading that line fr had me cheesin and grinning at my phone. the way i can just hear abby saying that in my ear right now, please keep it coming, i’m feeling like i’m on cloud nine

All it does is isolate you, making your life incredibly lonely. Trapped on the throne you built with your raw talent, but the industry is a double edged sword, as much as it appears to lift you up, it impales any sense of normalcy at a private, peaceful life. You take pride in these little moments you have with her. It’s the only time you get to have a taste of normalcy, even if you did have a bodyguard, which wasn’t entirely normal. Yet, Abby is a gentle reminder of a life she wishes to have. Someone who is kind, and loving; a soul that exists for no selfish gain, greed, or selfishness.

this gutted me, i can’t lie. it’s almost 6am and it’s stabbed me in the heart. heavy on feeling isolated, no matter where or what you do. and feeling alone is such a vulnerable feeling that so many people have, but being able to feel like raw with someone cares about you, is another kind of special feeling because you aren’t alone. you have someone to help you through that and i think that’s fucking amazing. eren going into a deep dive about isolation, typical, chat, look away, ya’ll don’t see nothing.

Abby hates seeing you like this, but she knew there was little she could do to help. All she could do is let you ride the wave of heartbreak, take in the silent tears hitting full cheeks, and hope it would all end soon for you. For now, she would allow immediate proximity.

being able to let your guard down and letting someone else see a side of you, that you’ve probably held back on doing so, is a feeling i genuinely carry so deep in my heart. even if someone can’t physically do anything to change what happened, just having someone there to listen to you, to let you cry, is more than enough. crying at the crack of dawn, don’t mind my salty tears over this reblog, kay? thank you. 

When a blossoming friendship turned into a job opportunity, it took Abby through a loop. It was the very last thing she was expecting from you. You’d kept her in the dark and when you announced exactly who you were, Abby really didn’t know. Never was she really a fan of social media, didn’t really partake in it unless someone was showing her the latest trend going around. She’s a little old fashioned but she likes it. It worked in her favor when it came to you. Unknowingly, for the first time since your fame struck as quick as lightning, you had the pleasure to befriend someone who had no idea who you were. 

i fear i’m full sobbing now. thank you for this. it’s scary knowing someone but not exactly knowing them, if that makes any sense. ray the angst queen!!! no but seriously, especially with abby having a deeper background, and i’m sensing certain trust issues here, correct me if i’m wrong, i guess her finding out who you were, had her spiraling. don’t worry babe, i’ll take care of you, i can do that!

In the last year, Abby became the only person worthy of your trust, the only one who would keep your confessions confined, not letting the secrets drip like cheap wine down the drain. Rather more as if she was out in the vineyard, carefully hand picking the grapes for the wine as she crafts it herself. Giving it the love, care, and attention it needs to flourish into fine beverage. From one sip alone, knowing she would crave for the taste. 

again, being able to trust someone is so special, and yes i’m fucking yapping and havin’ a therapy session in the goddamn reblogs but whatever! my reblog, my rules! the way you’re william shakespeare with the angst in such a beautiful way has me looking at you like that one pepe emote where he’s just in awe. okay anywho! write me in my next life??? i’ll pay extra for that <33

Listening and seeing you for who you are, not some strewed version the media made you out to be.  

this!!!!!!!!!! HEAVY ON THIS!!!!!!!! getting to know the person, in person, than using social media is so important. what do you mean you would rather just believe stuff you read over getting to the know the person?? ya’ll be so serious.

When paparazzi are around, you always accept her hand as she guides you through the swarming crowd. Abby knows you despise it. How inhumane it makes you feel. You feel like an attraction, an object the masses had come to see rather than being viewed as an actual person. In these moments, you cling onto Abby the most. While she’s intimidating to all, there leaves a small exception for you, never has she once been anything to you more than just a sweet, gentle giant she wants close to her at all times. 

my turn when?? please give me your hand, abby. i will do anything for that chance. get reader out of here, it’s just me and you now, baby girl, love of my life, angel of my light, light in my darkness. CLINGING TO ABBY, WE LOVE TO SEE IT. WE LOVE TO SEE A PROTECTIVE QUEEN #NEEDTHATRIGHTNOW

Nora was sweet. The most caring partner she ever had, but there wasn’t much she could compare it to. Besides her, there had only been two, and she didn’t even count Owen. A long misstep until she landed where she needed to be. He did care for her, and he seemed to be more kind-hearted than most men, but the bar was set so low, he should’ve exceeded expectations.

i wouldn’t count owen either, paintbrush looking ass. i hate that guy so much, even in fics he pisses me off to no end!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

One of the many fights  they’ve had with each other as of late. Nora is tired of dealing with a “baby gay” as she likes to remind her in the heat of their arguments. Abby gets offended, her lips forming into an even deeper pout, her porcelain skin flushed in anger before she gives them both space. 

nora don’t call her a baby gay, but abby pout mention!?!!?!?!! i just wanna kiss it right off her pretty face and make up for the fact baby just wanted to have a safe place, someone to call home, baby i can give you that, you dont need these people, i will give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

“For a moment I thought I ran into a wall—” You giggle to yourself. “Really, I’m alright.” You spoke softly. You pick up both of your belongings that had slipped from both of your grips, returning it to its owner. 

god, i want to be inside that wall, i mean, uhm, what? shut up. i said nothin, chat. i said i would try to contain my gay ass, but i simply couldn’t! soz!!!!

Even as time passed, the two of you became friends through your employment, spending all your time with her during press season for your upcoming film, Lonely Is The Muse, together. Today was the only day you had off, even if it means Abby technically had the day off, you insisted that both of you leave the hotel and go out for the day. It's the most peace you felt during the European leg of the tour. Only one more day of dealing with your sensory issues, people in your face telling you when and where to go, or the distasteful question regarding your past public breakup instead of the work you were promoting.

we love clueless gays who are actually madly in love with each other! no because, just wanting to spend time with her, even when you’re busy is making me sob :(((((( like yall are so in love and yet have no damn idea is making me blush but also piss me off. YALL ARE IN LOVE!!!! ADMIT IT! okay eren, relax your socks there, boss. hehe are you enjoying my random yaps? i really do hope you are, i’m having a blast right now, and drinking my coffee. alright my ADHD is out for my ass, erm!

“What do you want to do then?” Abby asks. She takes note of the sparkle in your eyes, as blinding as the sun but obtaining the serenity of the moon. “I’m all ears sweetheart.” 

BLUSHING LIKE A SLUT RIGHT NOW, WHO WANT ME?!!!!! CALL ME SWEETHEART, CALL ME YOURS, PLEASE, WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO AROUND HERE FOR THAT, ABIGAIL???

“Flattery isn’t going to get you a shot tonight.”

just say you hate me then, god ..... just kidding, give me your children!!!! the attitude is making me horny ... erm, it is 6am ... let me relax!?

“I don’t see how anyone would ever want to leave you.” Abby hums, not giving you much to go off of, tight lipped as she’s always been. The Nora situation has always been on your mind. One day, Abby’s speaking of her like she’s the love of her life and the next? Abby stiffens so tight when you bring up her name you promise yourself to never speak of it again. Until now, almost two years later, you’re more curious than you have ever been. The fatal ending, not belonging to you, but still you paw for the answers with your greedy palms. 

RAYNUSSY SHAKESPEARE!!!!!!! petition for ray to write me in my second life, i need it, asap rocky, right now! i want to be written this perfectly and beautiful, is that so much to ask for??? i’m really not asking for much ….. chat, start the petition

“Hm.” Her thumb pulls at your bottom lip, “You’re just trying to get me in trouble now.”

what about it? you hating it? tough luck, i would do it again!

“I don’t care. All that matters is you.” You push a piece of blonde hair away, seeing her beautiful cheeks more clearly, her shining blue eyes finding its unique path to your heart, the one especially made for her. “Here just let me talk, alright? You don’t have to say anything. Just listen.” 

communication and ressurance!!! for real breaks my heart when abby doesn’t think she’s good enough or good enough to be loved. a feeling that i’ve felt countless times in my life, okay eren no one gives a fuck about you, and to see it in fics makes me really emotionally happy because it’s a real problem and people don’t like to write something that is so fucking raw, they would rather hide that fact or those parts but be able to read it, really makes you think. she deserves all the love and affection. always! we love you, baby girl <33

“There’s no more waiting, m’right here.” Abby closes the gap indefinitely, lips connecting with yours as they move in perfect harmony, as if this is what she was made for. Involuntarily, she whimpers in your mouth as you gently tug at her bottom nibble at her bottom lip, your tongue sliding in as it dominates her own. It happens too quickly — the way her very being melts into you. 

YES YES YES YESY EY SEYESYSYYFYYEYYSYYDY!!!!!!!! i love this, everything about this is melting my heart. we for real love two clueless gays being right for each other. abby saying she’s not going anywhere, the whimpering when you’re kissing her, everything about this is PERFECTION. NOW LET ME GO REREAD AGAIN

we can all collectively agree ray is the abby writer, yes? from the raw vulnerability abby has to being able to accept the fact she’s enough, that she’s enough and that someone can love her unconditionally. this is stunning, i knew it would be before i even read it, but i do love reading everything you come up with. even watching you write something makes me heart melt because it’s perfect. if you wrote a book, i would be the first to buy every single copy, i’m selfish like that, taking every single copy to read them over and over. your writing will always be my favorite, no matter what. i fear i yapped a little too much, but i hope it makes you laugh, smile and maybe cry … just kidding please do not cry i will sob too <3 thank you for yet another banger, another beautiful piece, i must go and read it again. i love you <3

≛ LONELY IS THE MUSE!

❝ ABBY!CENTRIC ONE SHOT ❞

feat. bodyguard!abby x famous actor!reader

warnings. eighteen+, suggestive nsfw content: reader fell first nd and abby fell harder, some angst, fluff, slightly coded fem reader, personal trainer!abby, just two idiots pining. i saw the discourse for some romance and i wanted to do my part. enjoy friends.

LONELY IS THE MUSE, entangled in an endless web of a high profile life, everyone waiting on you hand and foot, hollywood’s star in their prime — everyone needing a piece for themselves. yet the mysterious blonde who has not a clue to who you are, catches the eye of the lonely muse.

wc. 8k

“You know you don’t have to stand this close to me.” Abby counters, but her words didn’t make you move an inch. Not that she really thought they would. Secretly, she enjoys your gentle touch. She likes how comfortable you feel around her. The downpour in New York has your arm entangled with her own, your hand gripping her bicep as she holds the umbrella.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to ruin my hair.” You replied gently, as you rested your head against her relaxed bicep.

“God, forbid your hair be in ruin, sweet girl.” Abby’s wet lips look inviting, especially when she’s smirking at you. Delectable, enticing, desired seeping underneath your soul as you try your best to keep them at bay. 

“Now that would be positively tragic, wouldn’t it? Just a paparazzi’s wet dream. Need my hair in ruins for them to get a handsome payday.” Abby shakes her head, the budding smile threatening to reveal itself. You can see how it grows, despite the effort she makes to disguise it. 

“I think you do enjoy my company. Paid or not, I bring some light into your life.” You play with the ends of her hair. The blonde feels a tingle pricking at her skin. She ignores it. 

“I can see that smile.” 

Better than anyone, Abby knows the gleam in your eyes is too dangerous to entertain, so she looks forward. It’s what she's paid to do, to keep you safe. Not to entertain some weird crush that will soon pass when you move on to the next actress, artist, or producer. She doesn’t need a reminder of how different your world is, she’s already abundantly clear on where the both of you stand. Worlds apart from each other, even if you’re leaning against her, the greedy hands of the public grab onto you first, mercilessly sucking the life out of anyone who enters your life. 

All it does is isolate you, making your life incredibly lonely. Trapped on the throne you built with your raw talent, but the industry is a double edged sword, as much as it appears to lift you up, it impales any sense of normalcy at a private, peaceful life. You take pride in these little moments you have with her. It’s the only time you get to have a taste of normalcy, even if you did have a bodyguard, which wasn’t entirely normal. Yet, Abby is a gentle reminder of a life she wishes to have. Someone who is kind, and loving; a soul that exists for no selfish gain, greed, or selfishness. 

Sometimes, you take advantage of it. 

Abby knows you crave physical affection. Ever since your messy break up, you’ve been finding any little excuse to justify it. Abby didn’t really mind at all. Even if she tried to deny it in her head, she’d miss it if you stopped. The incessant need you have to be close to her at all times, your essence bleeding on to her, suffocating her with everything she wants, but knows she can’t ever let herself dip into the deepest edges of you. 

Especially, not when you are still attempting to decode the wreckage of your last relationship. 

Abby hates seeing you like this, but she knew there was little she could do to help. All she could do is let you ride the wave of heartbreak, take in the silent tears hitting full cheeks, and hope it would all end soon for you. For now, she would allow immediate proximity.

You’re hurting. You need it.  

The first few weeks, even a couple months after, she expects it. Now it’s month four, and you were still touching her all the time. Lame excuses falling from your lips daily and Abby was sure you didn’t even believe them. She thought about bringing it up to you, establishing healthy boundaries before she crosses a line.

Yet, it feels…nice.

It felt good to be needed. The reason she had taken this job in the first place. It wasn’t what she had imagined for herself – a bodyguard of a famous musician. She jokes about it now, but it's a twisted fate for the two of you. Your eyes shine bright whenever someone asks, and you always take the lead.

Abby has always been more reserved, and your personality is as bright as the sun. She liked Abby the second she laid eyes on her. Not because she was beautiful or the most gorgeous human she’d ever seen.

Which she is.

No.

Her stupid pounding heart, the one she felt beating violently out of her chest, loves you, has no idea who she is.  She had thought possibly the blonde stranger was putting on a front, some did. They liked to conceal their intentions behind greedy eyes and malicious intent.

But Abby turned out to be different.

When a blossoming friendship turned into a job opportunity, it took Abby through a loop. It was the very last thing she was expecting from you. You’d kept her in the dark and when you announced exactly who you were, Abby really didn’t know. Never was she really a fan of social media, didn’t really partake in it unless someone was showing her the latest trend going around. She’s a little old fashioned but she likes it. It worked in her favor when it came to you. Unknowingly, for the first time since your fame struck as quick as lightning, you had the pleasure to befriend someone who had no idea who you were. 

As fresh as breathing your first breath of air, you took pride in the circumstance. Someone enjoying your company for who they are and not just for your social standing, fame, or most importantly the money. Before either of you could really even fully come to it, Abby has become such an influential person in your life, and then you were attempting to entice her with a job opportunity, and she accepted. 

You thought it would take longer and knew from the moment you had asked. But her life was uprooted by you, and she felt guilty about how much it fills her up with glee. 

In the last year, Abby became the only person worthy of your trust, the only one who would keep your confessions confined, not letting the secrets drip like cheap wine down the drain. Rather more as if she was out in the vineyard, carefully hand picking the grapes for the wine as she crafts it herself. Giving it the love, care, and attention it needs to flourish into fine beverage. From one sip alone, knowing she would crave for the taste. 

Getting to know you in ways some would dream of. Often, the mass of the public did, but you’re more selective who you let in your life now. Swiftly, you noticed how easily Abby listened. 

Listening and seeing you for who you are, not some strewed version the media made you out to be.  

She understood why you felt the need to and maybe why you felt comfortable with her. You spent time with her more than anyone. After two years together, she had learned every little detail about you. Where you liked to get your morning coffee, your favorite brunch spot, which bar you like to frequent when you had a night to give, which gym was your favorite, and to not speak with you until you’ve had said coffee. 

It’s these little things Abby remembers, constantly getting her in trouble.

When paparazzi are around, you always accept her hand as she guides you through the swarming crowd. Abby knows you despise it. How inhumane it makes you feel. You feel like an attraction, an object the masses had come to see rather than being viewed as an actual person. In these moments, you cling onto Abby the most. While she’s intimidating to all, there leaves a small exception for you, never has she once been anything to you more than just a sweet, gentle giant she wants close to her at all times. 

Her stature is standing a little over six feet tall. Her arms always looked too good against the tight fabric of her shirt. The one you grip onto as she is navigating through a crowd with you in tow, she’s always focused. The remainder of your team was behind you, while she was always in front of you.

At all times, protecting you.

But it was moments like today, you were grateful for. You blended with the hectic life of the city. You were just two people waiting at a crosswalk, waiting to get to your next destination.

Abby tries not to pay too much attention to how you’re squeezing her bicep, with a strong grip further indication you weren’t letting go anytime soon.

She supposes it’s better than feeling your hand in hers. There were times when Abby deemed it necessary. She would grab it whenever she needed to get you through from point a to point b, quickly. It made you follow her pace instead of lingering behind. She didn’t even know how she was supposed to feel with your head resting against her arm, your body so close to hers.

How was she supposed to act normally?

The rumors were already getting bad. You denied them when asked, and you did gracefully each time.

All Abby could think about if this moment was captured, it would be perceived as intimate. It felt like it was, but she didn’t want the entire world to see. Not when she felt the two of you walking this very nimble line of friends, something professional, and something more. She didn’t need thousands of eyes giving their two senses in a situation she didn’t even fully understand yet. All it took was one person to snap a photo if she gets too close to you. If her touch stayed on you for too long, or if she let the love reach her eyes. The ladder was the most difficult to control. It’s a part of her just as much as the air in her lungs.

This life is new to her. At times, Abby wondered if she’s biting off more than she could chew.

The only reason she’d left was for you. She had a small, quiet life. Abby’s life was very average, a cloud of normalcy hovered above her before the two of you met. A personal trainer full time and she resided in a cabin about half an hour from where she worked. She chopped wood to relieve stress, Her girlfriend liked it at the time, and she did too. She had her two dogs, and a darling kitten. 

She enjoyed the privacy. The isolated countryside her sweet family could reside in. Abby had built this life she was proud of, and it made her happy. For a time, it worked. She was genuinely content with where she was. There wasn’t a need to stress or control where her life was going. It felt like a huge relief. She tended to live inside her own head, not be present in what she has right in front her.

It had been months since she felt like that. It’d felt good and she was proud of herself for not succumbing from within and really coming to terms with what she had built around her. This was the most difficult route for her to take. To allow herself to be open, even if there was a chance of her falling.

Abby really should have felt remorseful for leaving it all behind.

Nora was sweet. The most caring partner she ever had, but there wasn’t much she could compare it to. Besides her, there had only been two, and she didn’t even count Owen. A long misstep until she landed where she needed to be. He did care for her, and he seemed to be more kind-hearted than most men, but the bar was set so low, he should’ve exceeded expectations.

And he did, in some areas.

Others, he fell more than flat but there was little to nothing he could do about it. Abby likes girls and he wasn’t one. Her sexuality shattered their relationship into a million pieces – leaving neither of them any option but to move on.

Nora felt real. This genuine connection she’d never experienced before. Abby knew it one year into their relationship. The pair had built this life together, one where she didn’t feel trapped in, and one Abby could be proud of. She felt acknowledged and loved Nora. There wasn’t a sliver of a doubt in her mind this where she needed to be.

She tells Nora when she needs space, and she isn’t ashamed of it. If she didn’t want to go out, Nora wouldn’t guilt trip her into it. Abby didn’t feel pressured to intertwine her identity with Nora just because they were together. Nora hardly ever gave Abby a reason to be upset. She showed up like partners were supposed to, even when Abby didn’t.

But it was a heavy weight to carry for Nora. Being her first serious queer relationship, Abby was left stunted in areas where Nora had to lend a helping hand. She never made Abby feel bad about it, but the two of them could feel the string keeping them threatening to snap.

Often, it frustrated Abby. To always be the one receiving help and never giving it. She didn't blame her partner, but she was left at a crossroad. 

She never understood Owen more and it really pissed her off.

To no fucking end.

But Nora was far more patient than Abby had ever shown. Maybe it was the testament to love or maybe Nora was just a good person and Abby is shitty. She had more patience than Mother Thersea herself, and it amazed her. Always guiding Abby with a gentle hand, never getting upset with her even when she let her anger shine through.

It makes her feel undeserving of a love she could never earn.

This pure and untainted love had never touched her before, and she’d never fallen this hard. Abby didn’t want to be anywhere but here. She really thought this could be it. Nora could be the one. They could get through those hardships together, right? 

Then you came and overwhelmed her like a tsunami.

She was running late, which was completely out of the ordinary for Abby. Instead of her neat braid, her sun kissed-blonde hair was in a low bun. Underneath her eyes was evidence of her lack of sleep. She hadn’t been getting any as of lately and the bags only seemed to get deeper.

Abby wouldn’t call the fights constant, but it sure did feel like it.

The back and forth, having the same fight consistently. Abby was more than frustrated. The biggest efforts she made were dismissed by Nora, even making her upset at times. She was trying too hard and being annoying, or not doing enough and then it meant she wasn’t present in the relationship.

Abby felt her stuck at a wall, Nora on the other side of it and she couldn’t hear a damn thing.

So, she was running late.

One of the many fights  they’ve had with each other as of late. Nora is tired of dealing with a “baby gay” as she likes to remind her in the heat of their arguments. Abby gets offended, her lips forming into an even deeper pout, her porcelain skin flushed in anger before she gives them both space. 

Contemplating about the future of their relationship in the shower, causing her to be late to work in the process. 

Astronomically behind – her client arrived at the gym she worked at half an hour ago. The most recent argument with Nora plagued her morning. All they seem to do is argue, trapped in what they both need from the relationship, but all the two of them could do is argue, argue, argue.

But neither of them makes a move. They are still as the eerie silence that carries them into questioning. 

It’s when she’s too inside her head, fearing about the future, when she violently bumps into you. Body colliding with yours, Abby’s stone-like build causes you to crash into the pavement, your belongings scatter along with Abby’s. 

“Fuck. Are you alright? Sorry, I’m in such a hurry, I’m sure I wasn’t even paying attention.” You let her pick you from the ground, she does with ease. She looks right through you and you expect the excitement, the excited tears, or to be asked for a picture but it never comes.   

“For a moment I thought I ran into a wall—” You giggle to yourself. “Really, I’m alright.” You spoke softly. You pick up both of your belongings that had slipped from both of your grips, returning it to its owner. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Abby asks again. 

You think it’s cute how much lace of concern is conveyed in her cerulean eyes, full of light and wonder, so beautiful it stops you in your tracks. 

“No no! I’m fine! Really don’t worry about it.” 

Honestly, you’re still in amazement she has no idea who you are. It makes your fondness of her grow even more. The two of you depart quickly, go about your day, and you think nothing of it until you go to unlock your phone to message your manager and it’s not a picture of the moon you’d taken during the eclipse, it’s the mysteriously hot and kind woman you’d run into before. 

Shit. She has my phone. 

Lucky for you, Abby was coming to the same realization. Ready to bring out the workout she had planned out for her first client, opening her phone to access where she had written everything out only to find this isn’t her phone. Well, fuck. 

Abby hollers at Dina to take over the client for a moment, excusing herself for a moment before retreating into the office to call from her direct line. 

Idiot Anderson. Now you get to make an idiot of yourself, twice. 

Way to go. 

She calls her phone and it rings a few times before the familiar voice chimes through the speaker, the one she heard this morning during her fit of anxiety. 

“Please tell me this is the woman I ran into earlier or else I’m going to be even more embarrassed for answering a stranger's phone.” 

“Well you’re in luck.” 

“Oh thank fuck—” You curse yourself before being so vulgar with someone who you didn’t even know. “Sorry! God, this is all my fault. I must have swapped our phones when I picked them up and didn’t even realize.” 

“It’s okay, really, if I was paying attention where I was walking this morning it never would have happened. Did you wanna meet?” 

“No! Let me. Please, this is all my fault. I should at least be the one who makes the drive.” 

“Are you sure? It’s really no trouble. I don’t mind.” 

“I’m really sure.” 

Abby offers the address of work, thinking once after she does if it’s a good idea, a total stranger knowing where she works but she’s already giving the street name and suite number before she can even make her mind. Abby usually doesn’t get nervous but this situation has sent her into a frenzy, thinking about how dumb she could have been. Nora will get a good laugh out of it she thinks, then she is reminded of the fight the two of them were still in. She wonders if she’s even tried to reach out to her yet or if Nora’s just waiting until Abby’s anger rolls over. 

More favorably, the ladder. 

Until the two of them have the comfort of their lives, the cushion they have between their shared friends and the home they share twenty minutes out of the state, until it comes up again and they’ll be contemplating it all over again. Anxiously, the front desk girl, Bevs, the younger girl who has a crush on her, shyly comes up to her. 

Bevs says what she assumes is your name, confusing Abby in the process. 

“You know her?” 

“How could you not? She’s one of the most famous actresses ever.” Abby is stunned to say the least. Truthfully, she had no idea. Her lack of social media keeps her out of the loop and as much as her friends tease her about, if Abby knew who you were the first time around, she’s sure she wouldn’t have been able to say more than two words. Clearly, you’re a fresh face to her. Already, Abby knows Manny is going to have a field day when Bevs lets this information spill in her sheer excitement. 

Great, she thinks. 

“Oh.” 

“I put her in your office. Some of the clients were already starting to have questioning looks, putting the pieces together. Hey! Maybe they're as clueless as you.” 

“Bevs, go back to the front desk.” With a curt nod and realizing she has pushed too far, with a tail between her legs she retreats back to her post. 

Okay, Anderson, let’s get this over with. 

Abby smells you the minute she steps foot in her office. It’s not the usual pinewood scent the candle in her office radiates. There’s a lingering smell of lavender with just a hit of vanilla. It’s sweet as it engulfs her nostrils, she finds herself sniffling slightly, a silent beg for more of it. You’re standing the minute you’re aware of her presence. Painfully, Abby is aware of her lack of clothing. The tight sport jacket is left unopened, her black sweatpants, accompanied with her sports bra, abs on display as she watches your eyes examine her carefully. 

She’s not sure how to feel about it. 

There is a moment, a short one where your eyes go to her chest, the silver barbells constricting against the small fabric, clear as to what lies beneath. 

Abby does smirk at that. She’s only human. 

You keep staring at her for a minute longer, well it feels like one but Abby deems it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

“It’s really not a problem.” The more time goes on, the sweeter you are. “It’s pretty close to where I live.” 

Abby didn’t know it then but you were lying straight through your teeth. The trainer didn’t know you moved around your entire day to make the phone swap or the butterflies swarming your stomach from just how attractive and nice she seemed to be. There was something about her that sent your caution flying to the wind, drifting in the leaves with the rest of your pride. 

“Well I appreciate you coming out this way, even if it’s in your area. I really wouldn’t have minded taking the drive.” Abby pulls out your phone as she hands you yours. It’s simple, transactional, and it should have just been left at that but you had a fondness of putting your foot in your mouth. 

“Are you a trainer here?” 

“Uh, yeah. Been doing it for a few years actually. I spent so much time here already, now I get paid for it. Can’t really complain.” 

“Do you ever do private sessions?” 

“Um-” Abby scratches the back of her awkwardly, not sure if you’re asking her genuinely or if you’re trying to insinuate something else entirely. 

“Oh fuck no! I didn’t mean it like that. I just have a….job opportunity I have to get in shape for and you just look like you know what you’re doing.” Abby thought you might as well point to her physique but if anything she was flattered. It was always nice knowing something she’s been working on for years, her longest standing commitment besides Nora, is appreciated. 

“Sure, we could work something out.” You slightly smile before you exchange phones, this time on purpose, to put in the other’s number. Normally, she didn’t give out her number to clients, but Abby makes an exception for you that day. To this day, she’ll never outwardly admit why she did, not even to herself. 

- 

Two years later, she’s single from her life being turned upside down by you. The casualty being her own relationship, leaving Nora behind was one of the hardest decisions she’s made. Nora never agreed on Abby taking the job. As much as Nora wished for Abby to be more open about their endeavors, as soon as she accepted an offer that could drastically expand the trajectory of their life, Nora couldn’t be asked to compromise another thing. 

That was that. Not even two months into Abby working for you and Nora had called it quits. Abby never talked about it, only you knew she had a girlfriend she used to talk about when you began training with her, and then it was just silent. Back then, you didn’t know her well enough to pry, so you didn’t. 

Even as time passed, the two of you became friends through your employment, spending all your time with her during press season for your upcoming film, Lonely Is The Muse, together. Today was the only day you had off, even if it means Abby technically had the day off, you insisted that both of you leave the hotel and go out for the day. It's the most peace you felt during the European leg of the tour. Only one more day of dealing with your sensory issues, people in your face telling you when and where to go, or the distasteful question regarding your past public breakup instead of the work you were promoting. 

Some interviewers were kind enough to let the drama go but some wanted to get their own viral moment, waiting for you to say the wrong thing. As the industry likes to say, any publicity is good publicity. 

When you’re America's sweetheart actress of the century, such luxuries can’t be afforded. 

As your manager likes to remind you, there’s a reputation you have to protect. 

“Would you like to head back now? Long day tomorrow. Last day of interviews and then your flight leaves first thing in the morning.” 

“Did Stassie put you up to this?” 

“Maybe.” 

“I thought you were supposed to be the fun one.” 

“Mhm, your definition of fun is letting you do whatever you want.” 

“And the problem with that is?” 

All Abby can do is chuckle. 

“What do you want to do then?” Abby asks. She takes note of the sparkle in your eyes, as blinding as the sun but obtaining the serenity of the moon. “I’m all ears sweetheart.” 

It’s how the two of you end up here, a rooftop party, a friend of a friend you said. The party was lowkey, more than the typical ones you would get invited. Maybe because you weren’t in Los Angeles, Miami, or New York — but tucked away on another continent — or perhaps everyone here is just discreet. 

There’s only two fans that come up to you instead of twenty. You’re thankful for some sense of normalcy, one night where you can just feel normal. It still never gets old, people coming up to you as they confess the impact you’ve had on their life. It feels unbelievable at times but you’re grateful for the luxury life you’ve been granted. 

“Here. No liquor tonight.” Abby hands you a glass of red wine, your favorite beverage of choice when you couldn’t have tequila. 

“Yes Ma’am.” You playfully salute her. More than anything, you enjoy the not so subtle chuckle. “Not that I don’t love your company but isn’t Stassie supposed to boss me around?” 

“She felt under the weather. Plus, we both know you don’t listen to her.” 

“And I listen to you?” Your hand plays with her loose blonde hair, smoothing out the white button she’s wearing. 

“Yeah, you do. I wonder why that is.” Abby is playing with fire tonight. Possibly due to the fact that you wouldn’t leave her side, not even for a moment, keeping your body close, practically gluing yourself to her. Yes, she’s charged with keeping you safe and protected but it seems you find enjoyment bringing it to another level entirely. 

“You’re much nicer to look at, that’s all.” It’s light, a quiet whisper, not meant to be heard by anyone — not even for Abby to hear. “Don’t wanna make my handsome bodyguard upset.” 

Faking your pout as you let the words leave your lips, Abby chuckles as you get closer to her, her body standing strong as you push your weight onto her. Stoic as always, while you lean on her, she keeps her eyes peeled. Ensuring your safety at all times. 

“Flattery isn’t going to get you a shot tonight.” 

“I’m just stating the obvious.” 

Abby chuckles, again. She’s delighted you’re enjoying yourself, even if it comes at her expense. There’s a soft jazz song playing outside, couples dancing to the music, you zone out for a moment as you look upon one in particular. 

They are older, possibly in their forties, raven hair beginning to gray, fine lines crinkle when they smile at each other but it’s hard to take note of anything else but the way the couple looks at each other. Your mind wonders how long they’ve been together, if it’s been for years, months, a couple weeks. 

It doesn’t really matter. You just want that. 

The feeling isn’t lost on you, especially when you’re in the arms of the woman you love. For her, she’s being protective, doing her job but you wish it was different. A bubbling desire dripping off your tongue, a need to have her close to you but because she wants. Not because she’s paid to. 

“If I can’t have any tequila shots, god forbid, you have to dance with me.” You down the rest of your wine, placing the empty glass on the bar. “C’mon, you can give Stassie an earful later.” 

Pulling her towards the makeshift dance floor, Abby leads as your head rests against her chest. The steady, soft heartbeat soothes you, a reminder of the safety you feel with her. Caught in the riptide of her kind eyes and heart full of gold. It’s what makes her so unique, so loved, so her. With a surprisingly good tone, Abby sings to the music softly before twirling you around and spinning your body back to her. 

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Your hand rubs lovingly on her lower back as she holds you in her arms. You take pride when it doesn’t feel transactional. When she holds you and it feels as if she was meant to. There’s nothing else comparable to it, her frame melting into yours as your soul finds solace in her warm embrace. 

“There’s plenty of things.” Playfully, Abby smirks. 

“Oh yeah. I’m sure.” 

The sarcasm practically drips out of you as her smirk grows wider. 

“Can I ask you something?” You hesitate for a moment as you find her beautiful blue eyes staring into your soul. It’s only then does everything troubling might dissipate while she holds you — secretly hoping it’s forever. 

“You can ask me anything.” 

You give yourself a moment to collect your thoughts as you move to the delicate beat. “Do you ever wish for a life where you could have had a normal life? I wonder if things could be different.” 

Immediately, Abby answers. 

“Not anymore, no, not for a second.” 

If it was even possible, Abby pulls you closer to her, not urging a word more. It’s how she is, cold and distant to some but they don’t feel the stutter in her breath when you’re near or the soft pad of her thumb rubbing soothingly on the back of your hand. Or the soft words of encouragement when you’re having a difficult day. 

They hear none of it. 

She dances with you for a couple more songs, before you find solace on the couch. You lay beneath the moonlight, your body cuddles into her side as you stare up at the sky. 

It’s lost on you how you’ve ended  with her, someone as kind and untainted as her, wanting to spend her free time with you, but you’re grateful for it. Whatever god you have to thank, you’ll get on your knees to praise their alter for bringing Abby into your life. She’s the best thing to ever happen to you and she doesn’t even know it. Albeit, she hardly knows the extent of how wonderful she is. 

“Why here?” 

“It’s a good night, nice weather. Why not?” 

A question with a question. It’s the most straightforward answer you’ll ever give her. Innuendos for the sweet girl to piece together, but with the soft circles being drawn her stomach with the pad of your finger leaves little to nothing to decode. 

“It’s nice, yeah.” 

Abby always has so little to say but her mind swarms with a thousand reasons why this is a bad idea and a million of why this is where the constellations in the jaded sky have led to you. Straight into the pits of innocence, a heart that’s been hurt more times than she can count but still as golden and whole as one could be. 

“What do you think of Italy?” 

“It’s nice.” 

“Nice? That’s all I get?” 

Abby smirks but her body stills when you play with the waistband of her trousers before gliding back to the security of her abdomen, carving the liner of her defined abs. The ones she tries so hard to cover up, but you saw on the very first day you met her. 

“Do you want more?” You ask, an eyebrow raising in suggestion. Abby knows it’s a double edged sword, one she doesn’t want to be injured with. 

“You’re playing a very dangerous game.” Cautiously, Abby warns. “I’m not sure that last drink was a great idea.” 

You rest your head on her sternum, sapphire eyes looking down at you as her hand finds home on your waist, the blunt of your nails scratching softly at her stomach. 

“They always seem like a great idea at the time, don’t they?” With a gentle hand, you caress her scarred cheek, the pad of your thumb gently tenderly kissing the freckled skin. Outlining the softness of her jaw with your left, while your right one refuses to leave her stomach. 

“I don’t see how anyone would ever want to leave you.” Abby hums, not giving you much to go off of, tight lipped as she’s always been. The Nora situation has always been on your mind. One day, Abby’s speaking of her like she’s the love of her life and the next? Abby stiffens so tight when you bring up her name you promise yourself to never speak of it again. Until now, almost two years later, you’re more curious than you have ever been. The fatal ending, not belonging to you, but still you paw for the answers with your greedy palms. 

“You can just ask me if you want to know. I can see the look in your eyes.” 

“What look? I don’t have a—” 

Abby tilts your chin with your palm, leaning into her touch as you often do. 

“Yes, you do.” 

“How do you know this look?” 

“Hm.” Her thumb pulls at your bottom lip, “You’re just trying to get me in trouble now.” 

Your tone shifts, your eyes become transcendent, more crystal clear than they’d been all night. 

“What happened between you and Nora?” You ask, treading lightly on the ground you’re skating upon, in fear the ground beneath you might just crack if you apply too much pressure. 

“Why is it so important to you?” 

“It’s not that it’s—” You face plant into her chest, giving yourself a moment to breathe. Fuck, even her chest smells good. 

“You don’t ask about anything unless it’s of value to anyone. You don’t waste time, you’re very adamant about it. Painfully so.” Blonde eyebrows relax as she closes her eyes for a moment, but her touch on you soothes you. It’s gentle; a somber comfort bleeding into blissful joy. 

“But I’ve spent a lot of time with you.” 

“Yes, you’ve spent a lot of your time with me.

Abby opens her eyes to see you, your head tilted to the right, as you look upon each carve of her angelic face, the one that could only be carved by the gods above, resembling an angel on earth. As pure as the snow with the biggest heart of gold you ever have had the pleasure of knowing. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t say a thing.” You smile slyly. 

“We didn’t break up because of you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Abby sighs, “You’re not some homewrecker. My home with Nora was already wrecked before we met.” 

“Are you just saying it to make me feel better?” 

“No, I’m not.” You play with the ends of her golden hair, it hurts to be this close to what you want but knowing it’s so clearly out of your reach, league even, all of it will end the same. “Nora wasn’t fond of her being my first relationship with a woman. It caused a ripple effect, me feeling like I wasn’t good enough and her feeling like she has to carry me in the relationship, emotionally anyway.” 

“Is that why you broke up?” 

“No.” 

“It was because of me.” You state, as a matter of fact, knowing there is no other truth to be known. With tears welling up in your eyes, an ache  in your heart, one that made you ache all over. The dread of the guilt weighing heavily on your heart, time and distance still isn’t enough for you to run from it. 

“It was a job that was a great opportunity. Alright? It wasn’t you, even if I hadn’t, we both wanted different things. I didn’t even realize it until after but I wasn’t happy. I promise, it has nothing to do with you.” 

What Abby didn’t know, you needed to hear her say those words. In the back of your head, a monstrous demon unleashes in your mind, telling you crashed her relationship. You were the problem and her inevitable doom, but she’s assuring you it wasn’t the case. 

“We hardly knew each other back then.” 

As pathetic as it sounds, Abby can’t imagine her life without you. 

“Yeah hardly.” 

There’s that look again, pouring into Abby’s soul as it eats her up whole, the gleam in your eyes begging for more. It’ll complicate things if Abby gets involved, she knows this, but it already seems like she is despite her best efforts not to be. 

“Did I do good? You always say you miss stargazing with your brother back home. I know it’s not as quiet as the cabin you have, but I thought it would be okay for now.” 

“The view isn’t bad, not one bit.” She admits as she lets you rub her abdomen, the goosebumps crawling upon her skin the more Abby lets you touch her as if she’s yours to hold. “Lev would like it. I’m convinced the kid likes you more than me now.” 

“As he should. I’m pretty damn amazing.” 

“He asks too many questions though.” 

“About what?” 

“I dunno…..things.” Abby retreats back into her shell, the layer of protection she uses to protect herself from getting hurt. Most of all, out of everyone the gods could torture her to be confused about, of course it has to be you. Everyone in your life is always begging for pieces of your time, pieces of your affection and bits of your time to suck you dry. Abby has always wondered how you juggle it all. It feels cruel to even think you would put her in the mix. 

Painfully, there’s nights like tonight, where she sees the desire swarming in your eyes — every part of her pleads to give in to the temptation. Give into something she’s never even let herself think about until the last few months. As thick as drywall, there was a barrier keeping her heart from you, one she kept to protect you and herself even. 

The absolute last thing she wanted was to wreck everything this has to offer. If she makes the wrong move, all of it can come crashing down on you…it’s the last thing she wants. Make you a martyr in her story, one she thinks and dreams of often but knows you’re too big for her to exist in your life. The circles you run in don’t even exist in the same planet, the same fucking universe if Abby’s being honest. 

“What things?” You pout, your hand traveling south, caressing her thigh with a familiarity Abby wishes you didn’t have. She wishes for a lot but they never come true, that’s all you can be, a dying wish Abby curses upon a fading star.  

“It’s just stupid shit, not worth mentioning.” 

“Abby…” 

“Yeah?” 

“I—” You take a deep breath, your voice already shaky and you haven’t even told her yet. “I don’t think you even know how much you mean to me.” Abby isn’t sure where you’re going with this, terrifying her instantly. 

Have you finally had your fill of her? Were you gonna fire her? Now? 

“Lev doesn’t just talk to you about us.” 

“Us?” Nervously, Abby stomach clenches, unprepared for where this conversation is heading. 

“Why are you so scared?” 

Abby visibly and loudly gulps, almost making you giggle slightly. 

“I-I’m not.” 

The stonewall she attempts to hide behind but you won’t let her, not tonight. Slumping in the shadows, waiting for you to find someone else to love as she watches your happiness from a far, that’s what she allows herself. Nothing more and nothing less. 

“Abs, look at me.” She meets your eyes, away from the constellations in the sky, afraid if she looks for a moment too long she’ll be stuck here forever. “Talk to me, m’right here, not going anywhere unless you want me to.” 

Instantly, Abby grips your hips, keeping you in your place. 

“No, that’s not—” 

“What?” 

“I’m not what you want. I’m surely not what anyone needs. Hell, I’ve only been with one woman which is deemed to be for not being enough, right? I’m the girl who came out too late, who doesn’t have enough experience but because I’m built like some fucking adonis I need to know whatever the fuck I’m doing but I don’t. I never know what I’m doing. The only thing I know how to do is protect you, that’s all I’m good for and I’m not gonna screw that up just because I—” 

“Because what?” Your pelvis is on top of hers, your face coming closer to Abby’s, watching as you are irrevocably close to her, closer than you’ve ever been, wet lips ghosting over her pouty pink lips. Abby doesn’t even know when you moved, how you got so close, too lost in her own head to register your movements. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Abby puffs out. 

“It matters to me.” You sink into her, further, if it's even possible. “No one matters more than you, alright?” 

“But there’s people.” Abby looks for an excuse to get up, she comes up enough so she’s sitting up against the armrest of the patio couch, holding your lower back as she does so, leaving you straddling her hips. 

“I don’t care. All that matters is you.” You push a piece of blonde hair away, seeing her beautiful cheeks more clearly, her shining blue eyes finding its unique path to your heart, the one especially made for her. “Here just let me talk, alright? You don’t have to say anything. Just listen.” 

Abby is nearly crying, practically purring as you run your fingers through her cascading blonde hair. It’s too much but not enough. Although she is sure of one thing, the one thing she wants more than anything. 

“I’ve always been one for pretty girls. I had a reputation around Hollywood, always chasing one after the next, never reaching my fill or as the tabloids like to say.” You chuckled half-heartedly; the wound cutting deeper than you would have liked. “My publicist having to pay paparazzi an obscene amount of money to get these photos from ever hitting online, month after month, it was pathetic really. Just trying to fill a hole, one I didn’t even know how to fill.” 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“It’s not something I’m proud of and I never wanted you to see me differently but I’m not ashamed anymore though. I’m not that person anymore. I haven’t been since I met you.” Abby falls silent, her cheeks turning crimson before she can try to hide it “You not knowing how I was, it's just the humbling I needed. Not to mention you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen— you still are— but you had a girlfriend so I kept my feelings silent. Something just felt different with you and then you were single and I was afraid of you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I didn’t want to ruin you so I made a promise to myself. I would never start anything with you, not unless I was in love with you.” 

“You love me?” 

“It’s impossible not to.” You sigh into her, forehead pressed against hers, her strong hold not letting go. “You don’t have to say anything or do anything. I don’t expect anything in return. I just can’t live in a world where you think because you’re not experienced as some, you think you’re less than people who are.” 

“It’s true, I’m not there with everyone else and it shows.” 

“Abby, you’re not getting it.” 

“Well, no shit. I’m not good enough for any of this, you especially.” 

“It’s not…” You bite your lip as you reach for her hands on your waist, intertwining them with your own. “Abs, it would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.” Your lips ghost over her lips again, but this time Abby inches closer, her breath warm as it hits your mouth. 

“What?” 

“If I was a patient person and waited for you.” 

More than before, Abby’s breath is heavy as the rise and fall of her chest is rapid, trying to calm herself down but it’s impossible when you’re this close. It’s a lot for her, maybe she’s overly sensitive, but your touch is practically lighting her on fire. Abby wonders if it will ever be able to be put out or if your magnetic touch will leave her scorned. 

Puppy eyes inwardly pleading for an ounce of your touch, so sweet as she supports your weight with her strong thighs, anchoring you to her — never quite letting go. A single glance detrimental to the layer of protection she built around herself. 

“There’s no more waiting, m’right here.” Abby closes the gap indefinitely, lips connecting with yours as they move in perfect harmony, as if this is what she was made for. Involuntarily, she whimpers in your mouth as you gently tug at her bottom nibble at her bottom lip, your tongue sliding in as it dominates her own. It happens too quickly — the way her very being melts into you. 

Like honey to a bee, there’s nothing that’s ever been so sweet. 

This is all you need. 

“Abby?” 

“Yeah, angel?” 

“Let’s get out of here.”

[bouwrites]

Those Warm and Halcyon Days: Chapter 11

Leap of Faith

Ao3.

First, Previous, Next.

Okay. Credit where credit is due. Yuri knows what a trap is.

Veery is still in the infirmary (and restless as all hell, both from being cooped up and from being disallowed to shift for days) when the monastery starts shaking. That resolves itself soon enough, then people are carted into the infirmary wing and Veery is left only imagining what fresh brand of bullshit they must have put up with.

He spies burns, claw marks, that distinct sickly dark magic scarring, a general overabundance of blood on the wrong side of people’s skin, and the interesting fact that Yuri and his Wolves, Balthus, Hapi, and Constance, are all brought in, too.

Claude explains the gist of the situation, and Yuri is still coherent enough to give Veery a smug smile when his grand plan is revealed, and Veery has to admit that yes, Yuri knows what a trap is. Veery doesn’t know why he’s smug about springing a trap on his allies, but sure, it’s a trap.

When they get to that part of the story, Veery is intrigued by the power of the Chalice of Beginnings, given Aelfric’s transformation, but honestly, he’s starting to get the impression that any artifact that’s “holy” or “sacred” should be avoided at all costs.

But more importantly, everyone survives. Also important, though obviously a double-edged sword, nearly everyone is at least a little wounded. Nothing too severe, nothing that’ll ground them like Veery is, except maybe the Wolves, but they need to be looked over in the infirmary.

That means that, for conserving space alone, Professor Manuela is forced to release him.

He’d feel worse about taking off as soon as he’s given the clear if he isn’t so sick of being indoors. Yes, Claude is injured, but he’ll be fine. Veery needs the sun.

It still hurts to move. He’s just going to lay down in the courtyard in front of the classrooms. Sure, he’s still just laying down, but at least he gets the sun on his face. He really wants to shift, but he’s still under strict orders not to do so. Maybe, once the rush is over, he can convince Professor Manuela to let him shift if she or one of the healers is present?

Maybe he can just go find Linhardt and do it anyway. Of all of them, Linhardt is the least likely to care about what exactly Professor Manuela orders, and thus most likely to give him the all-clear.

Except Linhardt is one of the students who is in the infirmary right now… No point in pushing his luck. The only reason Professor Manuela even lets him go is because she’s too overcrowded with everyone else. And he does need to heal.

He’ll just have to put up with it. Just for a while longer. Even if it is really annoying.

He lays down in the grass and feels a little better. The sun warms his face. Veery is getting used to Fódlan’s climate, but also the first of the cold fronts is just starting to come in, so there’s a pleasant, chilling breeze.

“Oh, Veery! Professor Manuela finally let you out of the infirmary?”

He stifles the overwhelming urge to sigh. It’s not like he doesn’t get alone time in the infirmary, but there’s something different about being outdoors. If he can get away with escaping to the woods outside of Garreg Mach, he absolutely will. Because he needs to not deal with humans for a while.

Lysithea is okay, though. Scary, but okay. They don’t honestly talk much beyond some chatter about books – where to find them, what they’re studying, what he needs to focus on next, that kind of thing – but facing the Death Knight that first time and then fighting side by side in Conand Tower means she’s actually probably the single person he’s fought alongside the most. There’s a certain something that goes with that, knowing she’ll skewer the Death Knight for him just as he will for her, that makes things… okay.

She’s surprisingly patient with him, too, which he respects a lot. He sees how she loses her temper with the others, but she rarely does so with him. He’s not sure why, exactly, but he guesses it has to do with what she says to him before, about respecting his efforts to learn about humans. (And also, maybe it has something to do with him being absolutely adorable, like a lost kitten, but that’s just what Hilda says.)

Veery peers up at her and nods to answer her question.

She takes a seat in the grass next to him. “I was actually about to bring you some new books when I heard the commotion. Did you know the professor asked me if you can use magic?”

Veery raises his brow. “Why did she ask you?”

Lysithea shrugs. “I can’t say for certain, but I got the impression that she thinks you’d have an aptitude for Faith magic.”

“With what?” Veery scrunches up his nose. “Me? Faith?”

“I’m not sure where its coming from either,” Lysithea says, “but Professor Byleth hasn’t been wrong yet about this kind of thing. I myself was adamant at first that learning to use a sword is pointless, but after the battle underground, when we were chasing the Death Knight, I could already see a difference. Not just in the tools at my disposal, but in the way I use even my magic. If she thinks you can do Faith, I’m inclined to agree.”

“Uh…” Veery says, “okay.” He doesn’t see it. He barely even knows the Church’s general teachings, and Professor Byleth thinks he’ll have talent with Faith magic?

“I believe she’s going to ask you to start studying it soon,” Lysithea says.

“I’m… I’m not a student,” Veery says. “Why would she tell me what to study?”

Lysithea actually snorts. “Veery, you’re a Deer. Everyone knows you’re a Deer. Of course, she’s going to teach you.”

“I’m… literally not a student. I only trained at all because I was tagging along on the missions.”

“Tell that to Claude. Honestly, I was almost worried he’ll forget that you technically aren’t allowed to fight in the Battle of Eagle and Lion next month. Though, I’m also half-convinced no one would question you if you did. Injury notwithstanding, of course.”

“I don’t go to class.”

“Neither does Hilda.”

Veery groans.

“Anyway,” Lysithea says. “That in mind, I realized that you probably have no foundation in magic, do you?”

“No,” Veery admits. “I tried learning to make fire once, but I didn’t get anywhere with it. Even the humans hardly use magic in Albinea, at least that I saw. The one I did find just kind of… did it. I couldn’t figure it out.”

“I thought so. That’s why I found this for you.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a worn… textbook? He takes it, examining the cover. On it, in large print, reads, “Magic Applications: Introductory Level” and what looks like several surnames. “Annette recommended it, actually,” says Lysithea. “It’s what they use for the first classes of students with no magical background in the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery. I looked through it myself and it’s certainly more detailed than anything else you’ll find for your level, though the language can be a bit technical for a beginner. You don’t have to worry about that, though. I’ll guide you through it.”

Veery looks between her and the book in confusion for a long moment. “You’re going to teach me magic?”

“I’ll teach you the fundamentals. I doubt you have much interest in dark magic and I’m admittedly still working on Faith, but I can give you a foundation.”

He almost asks, “Why?” without thinking, but he cuts the word off in his throat before it can leave his lips because he figures it out on his own. Lysithea is smiling, looking proud and eager. He doesn’t realize it until now, but that look is reserved almost exclusively for when she can teach him something.

She just… likes being a teacher, doesn’t she? So, when Professor Byleth gives her a clue into what he’s going to be doing later, she decides she can help him catch up and maybe show off her own expertise in the same stroke. Now that Veery is thinking about it, when Lysithea asks him what he’s studying or what he gets from a book she recommends, or how the others are helping him, she sounds a lot like Professor Byleth talking to the students.

Huh. That’s kind of cute.

It’s not like he has anything against learning magic, anyway, if he even can, so he has nothing to lose but time, and his injury is giving him a whole lot of that. So, he agrees.

They get started right there in the grass.

“Professor Manuela is holding an introductory Faith seminar today,” Professor Byleth says as she approaches him. “I would like you to attend.”

Well damn, Lysithea is right. Still… “I’m not a student,” Veery says.

“You’re my student,” Professor Byleth says simply.

Oh. Veery’s gaze falls to the grass. He’s… not really sure how he feels about that simple statement. That, even if he’s not a student of the Academy, he’s a student to her. It’s…mostly confusing, but there’s an odd feeling under that, like someone ties a string to something just behind his solar plexus and pulls it up to his throat. “Am I even allowed in those seminars?”

“Seteth already approved, and I will also be attending,” Professor Byleth says. “If anyone has a problem with it, they can talk to me.”

Well, he can’t really refuse, can he? It’s not like he isn’t expecting this. “I guess…” he says. “But… why Faith?”

“I believe you will have a talent for it,” Professor Byleth says simply. “If you try.”

“You do know that I don’t believe in the goddess, right?”

Professor Byleth shrugs. “We are in very similar positions with regard to the church. I will be attempting to learn as well.”

Fair enough. Veery does remember hearing that Professor Byleth doesn’t know anything about the church until she gets here. Maybe they aren’t so different. That still raises the question of how she’ll do it, but there’s no harm in sitting through a seminar. He’s curious about how an actual class works, anyway.

The first thing he thinks, when he gets seated, is that it’s strange to actually sit at these desks. Facing the desk, with paper and a quill in front of him, is so different than lounging on the benches. He turns sideways, straddling the bench and leans over to rest his head on the desk. That’s better. Not great, but better. He already prefers learning outside.

“Oh! Veery! Professor!” Dorothea sits gracefully on the bench ahead of Veery smiling at him. “I didn’t know you two would be here! When Professor Manuela told me to attend her introductory seminar, I thought I’d be the only one here!”

Veery tilts his head, rubbing his cheek on the desk by consequence. “Why?”

Dorothea giggles. “Oh, we covered basic Faith magic last month in class. Anyone who is going to learn it is past the introductory level, and anyone who isn’t won’t be coming to a voluntary seminar. I’m only here because Professor Manuela told me to come.”

“Oh.” Veery hums. “Why’d Professor Manuela ask you to come?”

“No idea.” Dorothea shrugs. “I’m terrible at Faith magic. Can’t heal a scrape to save my life. Though…” She looks between him and Professor Byleth with calculating eyes. “This is certainly an odd bunch to be learning Faith, isn’t it?”

Veery raises a brow. “I mean, I didn’t know anything about the church until I got here, and I definitely don’t believe in it, so…”

“Exactly,” Dorothea says. “Two people who have such little experience with the faith, and a cynic who doesn’t believe in anything but herself.” She shakes her head. “How Professor Manuela intends to teach us Faith is sure to be interesting.”

Veery hums in agreement. “Hey, why even have an introductory seminar after you’ve already covered the subject in class? Shouldn’t this be more at the class’ level?”

“I had the same thought,” Dorothea says. “Now that I see who’s here, I think maybe Professor Manuela is doing this on purpose.”

A hearty laugh breaks off their conversation, followed by the closing of the classroom door. “You’re as sharp as ever, Dorothea.” Professor Manuela says, walking to the front of the room. “And you’re right. Everyone who has faith is already capable of healing simple scrapes at least, and everyone who doesn’t has already given up. I knew far in advance who would be here. Ever since Professor Byleth mentioned wanting to learn, I’ve been preparing for this.”

“But how do you intend to teach us, Professor?” Dorothea asks. “The others haven’t, but I have already gone through several Faith lessons with you and come up short.”

Professor Manuela nods, smiles, and picks up some chalk. “Very good question. You’ll see. Trust me.” She winks. “But to get us started, who can tell me what Faith magic is?”

Dorothea keeps her hand down, though Veery thinks she knows the answer – she has already done a class on this subject, after all. Veery himself just… doesn’t know. Lysithea is teaching him about how magic works, but it’s all even more fundamental. Channeling and detecting magic, how to read and draw spell diagrams, how to gauge his own magic reserves, things like that. And even that is geared towards Reason magic. Veery can really only guess from the name.

Professor Byleth eventually says, “The textbooks I’ve read state that Faith magic is the goddess’ own power, gifted to those who have faith in her. That’s where the name comes from.”

“You’ve been doing your reading!” Professor Manuela says. “That is what the textbooks say.” She turns to the blackboard and writes, in the center, “FAITH”. “All magic is limited by your own magic reserves, but there are two distinct classifications of magic. Faith and Reason. Many people fall into the trap of thinking that this distinction is between offensive and supporting spells, but that’s not actually true. So, who can tell me what the difference truly is?”

Veery frowns into his elbow as he rests his head on the table. Lysithea really wants to give him a fighting chance at casting, so this theory is skipped so far for time. It’s not very relevant for actually doing the magic, Lysithea says. So, he doesn’t even know where to start, and just stays quiet.

It’s awkward, with only three students, especially when two of those are quiet already.

“Reason magic,” Dorothea says, “is shaped by logic. It’s more rigid than Faith because of it, rarely doing more than straight damage without an exceptionally complex structure. By manipulating the nature of our magic, we can give it shape, and we control that shape with more intricate spell matrices. Faith is… well, a product of faith. Many texts describe Faith magic as prayers, wishes, and hopes rather than spells. As a result, the same spell from two Faith mages might look completely different.”

“Very good, Dorothea,” Professor Manuela says. “At the core of it, Reason magic is about control while Faith magic is about belief. Many of the world’s most powerful mages were Faith specialists, and some scholars even theorize that Faith magic has the potential to be infinitely powerful, whereas Reason is more limited. But that leads us to the problem facing this class in particular. Who were those powerful Faith specialists?”

“Nearly all of them were bishops and archbishops,” Dorothea says flatly. “Which makes sense. The most devout have the most powerful Faith magic.”

“That’s right. According to all of your textbooks, Faith magic is the goddess’ own power, gifted to the devout, and the most powerful mages in the world are those who are the most faithful.” Professor Manuela writes “Rhea” under “FAITH” on the blackboard and connects them by a line. Under Rhea’s name, she writes, “Goddess” and connects those as well.

“Professor Manuela?”

“Now, I’m about to tell you something that the church won’t like,” Professor Manuela says, leaning over and smirking at them all. “So, don’t tell Seteth.” She giggles. “The truth is that Faith magic is shaped by belief. It is shaped, in short, by faith, but what that faith is in doesn’t actually matter.”

“Faith in… something else?”

Professor Manuela returns to the blackboard to write “Linhardt” over the word “Faith”. “So,” she says, “who here actually believes that Linhardt is a devout follower of the goddess?”

Like Veery has any idea. Dorothea furrows her brow, though. Professor Byleth tilts her head slightly but doesn’t show any other sign of what she’s thinking.

“Maybe he is,” Professor Manuela says. “I haven’t asked. But I seriously doubt it. How can he be such a talented Faith mage at his age with so little obvious faith in the goddess?”

Dorothea taps her fingers, humming. “I… hadn’t thought about it. He must… have faith in something else? Does that actually work?”

“It does,” Professor Manuela says. “In fact, the line between Faith and Reason magic is much blurrier than your textbooks would lead you to believe. As I haven’t asked him, I can’t say for sure, but if I were to guess, I would say that our Linhardt’s Faith magic comes from his belief in his scientific method.”

Professor Byleth raises a hand. “Would that not be reason magic, if it’s about structure and method?”

“That is an excellent question, Professor. You see, Faith is an excellent description of this kind of magic for the faithful. For people like you all, who find such faith difficult, it is better to think of it as ‘feeling’ or ‘conviction’ rather than blind faith. Linhardt doesn’t need to have faith because he proves what he learns through his experiments. That proof gives him the ‘conviction’ to shape a spell. He believes utterly that there is no reason he cannot do it, because he has it figured out, and so the Faith magic takes shape.”

Veery wrinkles his nose. This is confusing.

“You look like you have a question, Veery. Ask.”

Veery raises his head a little. “So… Faith magic doesn’t have anything to do with faith at all? You just believe that you can heal something hard enough and you do?”

Professor Manuela smiles gently. “If you genuinely do believe it, that is one way to shape a Faith spell, yes. You needn’t believe in the goddess. You simply need to believe in something. If that is even the very spell you’re casting, it can work.” She taps the chalkboard. After filling in “Research” above Linhardt’s name, she writes Byleths name, and then Dorothea’s, and then Veery’s. “Now, I’m going to ask each of you what you have faith in. It can be anything at all. Professor, why don’t we start with you?”

Professor Byleth looks at her desk for a moment before lifting her eyes and saying unwaveringly. “My students. My father.”

“Excellent,” Professor Manuela says, filling in the answers on the board. “Faith in other people, especially friends and family, is actually the most common way that people without faith in the goddess manage Faith magic. If you focus on that feeling, rather than trying to focus on the goddess, I believe you will manage it.”

Professor Byleth looks back at her desk and then over to Dorothea, then Veery. She nods. Faith in… them, huh?

“Dorothea?”

Dorothea clears her throat. “Well… I suppose I have faith in you, Professor. Both of you professors.”

“I am honored, Dorothea.” Professor Manuela says, with a soft, touched smile. “And Veery?”

What does he have faith in? In the sun and the snow? Does that even count? He certainly doesn’t have faith in any people. He doesn’t trust any human completely and he isn’t close enough to any agell to truly say he has faith in them, either. He… can’t think of anything.

“If you’re having trouble,” Professor Manuela says carefully, “I do have an idea.”

“You do?” How does she know if he himself doesn’t?

“You gave me a big hint in the infirmary, when you were talking to Seteth.” Professor Manuela says. “If you don’t mind me talking about that with these two here…”

Veery ducks his head. “I don’t see how that helps, but… I guess.”

Professor Manuela takes a moment to collect herself. When she does speak, she does so slowly. “You said then that you’re… scared of humans. That you can’t trust us.”

Dorothea turns in her seat to look at him. Veery sinks lower in his seat.

“So,” Professor Manuela says, “if that’s true, then why are you here? Living among humans who scare you so much? More specifically, why allow yourself to get close to Marianne or Claude if you think they’re going to turn on you? How do you convince yourself to overcome that fear?”

How does he convince himself? When he doubts, he just… “I just… I have to hope,” he says. “I have to learn, because nothing will happen if no one does. So, I have to… hope that you humans who don’t… who actually act like you… care about me- I have to hope that you’re not lying, because… if I just let myself hide away, I won’t learn anything, and nothing will change.”

“In other words,” Professor Manuela says, “you place your faith in us.”

“But I don’t-” Veery protests. “I don’t believe it. I don’t have any other choice. If I don’t let myself relax even a little, life would be miserable. I don’t… I don’t have faith in humans. That’s the problem. I just have to pretend like I do to get anywhere.”

Dorothea chuckles, but the sound is almost bitter. “You don’t believe in us at all, yet choose to stand by us and trust us anyway? I’d say that’s the stupidest, most ridiculous show of faith I’ve ever seen.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Vee…” Dorothea shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be mean. I didn’t mean to sound as if you’ve offended me. I promise, I don’t take it personally. I only meant that I think it is faith.”

“You need to believe to have faith,” Veery says. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“Not always.” Dorothea sighs and glances over to Professor Byleth. “In fact, I think sometimes, the point is that you do it anyway, despite your doubts.”

“Well put, Dorothea,” Professor Manuela says. “The conviction to move forward with everyone, despite your doubts and fear. Most would call that bravery, but you could also say that you have faith. Don’t think about belief, think about will. The willpower and bravery to have faith in people, not the belief in the fulfillment, or even sensibility, of that faith. That’s what you should use.”

Conviction, bravery… Veery is a coward. He always has been. It seems impossible, but… it also seems like his best shot, if he is truly going to learn Faith magic. He doubts he’ll get anywhere with it, honestly – he doubts from the very beginning – but…

He should try.

This is exactly what they’re talking about, isn’t it? Veery closes his eyes and sighs. What a painfully familiar feeling. He doesn’t think faith is supposed to hurt. Everyone always says that faith heals and comforts, so why does it hurt so much, if this is really what faith is? To charge forward despite believing fully that he’ll get nothing but hate and betrayal and death… maybe they’re just mistaking faith for stupidity.

Professor Byleth asks him to be here, though. She invites him into this lecture despite him not even being a student. She says he is a student – her student. She says she has faith in her students. In him. Faith is so important to humans – maybe he’s biased because he’s housing in a monastery, but at least here it’s true. If he wants to understand humans… even just one, even just Professor Byleth, who for some reason adopts him as her student… He can’t just give up because he doesn’t think he’ll get anywhere.

He doesn’t get it. He’s sure that even she will eventually hunt him, if given a reason to. But he wants to understand, and for that reason, he sighs and says, “Okay.”

“Do you understand?” Professor Manuela asks.

He does. He understands the feeling she’s telling him to pay attention to. It buzzes around and leaves him hollow, cold, and short of breath – the opposite of what he believes faith is supposed to be – but he knows what she’s talking about. He nods.

Professor Manuela is standing at his desk now, looking down at him with concern in her eyes. “You still look unsure.”

“Isn’t that the point?” he asks weakly.

Dorothea sighs. “Um, Professor?”

“Yes, Dorothea?” Professor Manuela turns from him. Veery lets out a quiet breath, glad the attention is off of him. Dorothea meets his eye, one brow raised ever so slightly before her gaze turns back to Professor Manuela.

Thanks, Dorothea.

“If this kind of faith really does work for Faith magic, why teach us only about faith in the goddess? Why not tell us? I’m sure many more of us can master Faith magic if we weren’t discouraged from looking outside the goddess for it.”

Professor Manuela sighs. “That’s why this is a… special seminar. Mostly, I wanted to do this for you, but when Professor Byleth approached me, I knew she’d need to hear this, too, and Veery, of course. Unfortunately, the church perpetuates the idea that it is their goddess that heals people. Nothing else. I, of course, can’t say that it isn’t the goddess’ power, as all your textbooks will tell you. I’m certainly not saying that – in fact, I personally do believe in that much, but if people see even the faithless regularly using such magic, faith in the goddess would wane. That’s the real explanation, anyway. The church wants a monopoly on healing because it brings people in.”

“Ugh.” Dorothea curls her lip, sounding thoroughly disgusted. “I knew it had to be something like that.”

“Since I work directly for the church, I’m technically not allowed to teach any ‘alternative’ Faith methods. Normally, I wouldn’t risk my job doing so, but you expressed an interest in it and I can’t let you, of all people, down, dear Dorothea. And if I’m going to be teaching it anyway, well, I have faith that Byleth and Veery won’t rat me out to Seteth.” Professor Manuela winks at them, smiling all the while.

Professor Byleth raises her hand. “Will it be a problem for Veery to use Faith magic?”

Professor Manuela’s smile falls. She crosses her arms and leans against the front desk. “I have no doubt it will ruffle some feathers, especially if he maintains that he doesn’t believe in the goddess. Faith is supposed to be for clergy, after all. But I do believe Seteth said something about being in his debt. He’ll be fine, especially if he’s under your guidance. People here respect you, so they’ll keep their mouths shut.”

Veery sincerely doubts that. A lot. People don’t even keep their mouths shut about his tail. If he starts using their “holy” magic, there is no chance they don’t get worse. And if he does pretend to believe, he’ll still have all that plus have to deal with people acting like the goddess is some saint for “saving” a “savage” like him.

It’s all rhetoric he hears nonstop regardless, but he doesn’t particularly want it said to his face. At least maintaining his heathen beliefs will stop most of them from approaching, even if it makes the worst of them even worse.

“Now, I know Dorothea has experience using magic,” Professor Manuela says, “But what about you two?”

Professor Byleth says, “I can light a fire. It’s not strong enough to use in combat, though.”

“I see. It’s more than many have. And you, Veery?”

“Lysithea started teaching me the other day, but I haven’t managed it yet.”

Professor Manuela taps her chin. “Then I have three students at three vastly different levels with magic. Lovely. Dorothea, you can start trying whenever you’re ready. Professor Byleth, you said you have some experience with magic? Pair up with Dorothea, then. Here are some needles. Remember, just a prick. We don’t want any serious harm for practice, now.”

Dorothea and Professor Byleth take the needles from Professor Manuela and sit together at a desk. Professor Byleth, unflinching, pricks her finger and holds it out to Dorothea.

Since Professor Manuela is watching too, Veery decides to simply observe. Dorothea frowns at the little droplet of blood on Professor Byleth’s finger for several long minutes. Eventually, she sighs. “I’m not getting it.”

“You can do it, Dorothea,” Professor Byleth says.

“We have faith that you can,” Professor Manuela says with a grin. “Try again. Don’t try to structure it. You’re not sewing it back together one stitch at a time, you’re telling your magic to heal and letting it do so.”

Dorothea nods, takes a deep breath, and holds Professor Byleth’s hand in both of hers, cupping the injured finger between her palms. Another minute or two passes and she slowly opens her hands.

Byleth wipes the drop of blood off, and her finger is good as new. It’s not even red.

Dorothea laughs, disbelieving. “I did it. I actually did it. My goodness.”

“You see?” Professor Manuela says patting Dorothea’s shoulder. “What did I tell you?”

Dorothea continues laughing. “I thought I was hopeless, but… Professor, do you mind if I try again?”

Professor Byleth’s lips form the faintest smile as she silently pricks another finger and holds it out for Dorothea. The process repeats, Dorothea taking her hand, holding it for a moment – faster this time – and releasing it. Byleth wipes the single drop of blood away to reveal her pristine finger.

“Wonder of wonders. Thank you so much, Professor Manuela!”

“Now, with a little practice, you’ll be a regular helping me out in the infirmary, hm?” Professor Manuela teases.

“Anything for you, Manuela.” Dorothea winks.

“Oh, you.” Professor Manuela shakes her head. Dorothea and Professor Byleth return to the exercise. “Keep practicing and remember to switch fingers. Don’t do all of them more than twice before I get back to check them, okay? I’m going to help Veery for a while, then I’ll be back, and you’ll switch.”

Professor Byleth nods while Dorothea heals the third finger.

“Now, Veery.” Professor Manuela turns to him. He shrinks a little in his seat. “Since you’ve never cast a spell before, it’ll be a lot more difficult for you. Why don’t you start by showing me what you managed with Lysithea?”

Veery’s fingers are sore. It’s kind of a silly thing to think about considering the still-nasty wound in his back and abdomen that causes him no end of pain, but his fingers are sore.

Dorothea is so excited to finally manage healing (“Like Manuela!”) that she tries whenever anyone is willing to prick their fingers for her. Luckily, it doesn’t get any worse than that, but Veery still has all of his fingers pricked several times. Mostly for Dorothea, though Professor Byleth does manage to heal him a few times.

And they are healed, but they’re still sore from being hurt in the first place. Even the best healing, Professor Manuela says, won’t get rid of that.

Veery himself doesn’t manage to use magic at all, but Professor Manuela, examining his attempts closely, says he’s nearly there. “The first spell is always the hardest,” she says, with Dorothea nodding in agreement behind her. “It’s like chipping a hole in a wall that’s holding all that magic inside of you. Once you have an outlet already, it’s much easier to cast. More experienced mages can cast more powerful spells because that metaphorical ‘hole’ gets larger with more training.”

“That’s right!” Dorothea coos, in high spirits from her own successes. “You’ll get it in no time!”

Veery can’t resist asking, “But I can use magic, right? It’s not impossible for agell or something like that?”

Professor Manuela laughs. “Medically, there is no reason why you shouldn’t. Trust us, you’ll get there.”

That… well, he won’t say it relieves him because he’s not honestly very invested, personally, in using magic in the first place. It’s something Professor Byleth is telling him to do, which he’s doing because he thinks it is intriguing and because he can’t do much more activity without straining his injury. But it does reassure him a little. Just a little. As far as he knows, this is all unknown territory, even if things look like they should be fine.

Veery sighs. It’s a nice day, he’s lazing around in the grass, enjoying the sun rather than studying for now.

Faith, huh? He wonders what Professor Byleth sees in him.

…He’s itching to shift. Soaking in the sun doesn’t feel the same if he’s not shifted. It’s nice, but different. Is it worth going to the infirmary…?

Yes. Yes, it is. Veery gets up, wincing from the bend affecting his wound. It’s not a long walk to the infirmary from the Academy courtyard but being injured does tend to make things more difficult than they should be.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, why is the infirmary on the second floor? To trap patients who don’t want to listen to orders to stay in bed? Veery thinks it’s more likely to end with people falling down the stairs, but he supposes it’s not his problem.

Walking around isn’t so bad anymore. Regular magical healing means the worst of it is already passed. It’ll still be a while before he can strain himself, and he’s still in pain, but he’s not in danger of collapsing or anything. The pain isn’t so bad that he can’t grit his teeth and bear it, even when he’s moving. Professor Manuela says it’ll scar but that he’s not going to be taking part in the Battle of Eagle and Lion no matter what.

Veery reminds her that he’s not actually a student and won’t be in the battle regardless. She laughs at him.

Humans are weird. Why is it that he seems to be following their rules better than they do?

Whatever. Infirmary. Shifting. Veery climbs the stairs. That’s painful, but it’s not threatening to actually reopen the wound or anything, so it’s fine. If he has to, he will stay shifted for a day or two, to prevent agitating the thing. That might even be a blessing, since people generally try to start fewer conversations with the big cat that can’t talk back. With less ability to shift freely, that’s even more true, since it’s such a hassle to find one of his approved physicians just to share a few words.

Tired and in pain, Veery is in the mood for some alone time.

There’s a lot of activity in this hallway. What’s happening? Veery listens, trying to hear past the bustle, and he hears Seteth’s voice, and Rhea’s. Oh! Flayn is awake! Veery is about to turn around and take his chances at Mercedes or Marianne being in their rooms, but he’s already up the stairs so he may as well say hi to Flayn.

Will Seteth get mad at him for talking to Flayn? Technically, that order isn’t rescinded, but given the circumstances… Eh, it’ll be fine. He still wants to shift, anyway, and Professor Manuela is right there. He can be forgiven for not walking halfway across the monastery to look for a student physician when he’s already here, even if he is interrupting Flayn’s grand awakening. He’s still injured, after all.

So, he pushes onward. Some of the priests turn tail at the sight of him, pressing themselves against the walls or turning around and heading somewhere else entirely to avoid him. They’ve been doing that. He guesses he really does scare them when he was hurt. …They’ve got good instincts; he’ll give them that. Better to run away and live another day than wrestle with a predator, even a weakened one. Always avoid a fight if possible. Every day he recovers is another step in that matchup becoming worse for them.

He won’t let them heal him with a twenty-foot pole, anyway, so it doesn’t bother him. Even Professor Manuela is barely past that threshold. These nameless priests certainly aren’t.

It’s easier to get down the hallway when they get out of his way, anyway.

He pushes open the door and walks inside.

“Ah, Veery! What incredible timing!” Seteth says. This might actually be the first time Veery sees the man smile big and openly like this. Huh. He looks nice like that. “Flayn has finally awoken!”

Veery looks to Flayn, who looks completely exhausted, but smiles at him regardless. “Hi,” he says.

“Hello! I hear it is you who found me! Thank you so much!”

Veery shrugs. “Technically, I found the Death Knight.” He winces, then amends his statement. “Technically the Death Knight found me. I just identified him.”

Flayn frowns and leans forward, maybe trying to get a better look at his wound despite him now wearing a shirt to cover it. Seteth is on her immediately, making her lie back and relax. “Still, you are responsible for everyone having found me when they did. I thank you,” Flayn says, when she can get Seteth to stop nagging.

“No problem,” Veery says. “I’m glad you’re back with us.”

Flayn giggles. “As am I!”

Veery nods and turns to head closer to Manuela, but he’s intercepted by another voice. (He really wants alone time lounging in the sun right now, not talking. Being in such a crowded place is nice when he’s up to socializing, but gods it’s annoying when he just wants to shift and take a nap.) “I never did find the time to thank you personally.” He looks over to Rhea, eyes narrowed.

“You don’t need to,” he says, taking another step to Professor Manuela.

“Flayn is as good as family to me,” Rhea says. “So, I must extend my deepest gratitude to you as well, for your part in her rescue.”

“You’re welcome.”

“It occurs to me that, since you arrived here some months ago, we have barely spoken,” Rhea says, ignoring or not noticing that Veery really doesn’t want to be here. (He’s not trying to offend her, really, so it’s a relief that she’s not addressing it, he just is not good with people when he’s in alone mode. He needs the sun and his nap and he needs to not be talking to probably the person he trusts least in this entire monastery. Or anyone, really.) “And yet you’ve done me such a great service.” Is rescuing someone a service? Or killing her enemies? “Perhaps, when I next find some time to enjoy it, we can share a cup of tea? I admit, I am quite curious about you.”

Is he allowed to refuse? Like, legally? Either way, he’s in no mood to deal with any more of this, so he agrees in hope that she’ll let it go. “Sure. Manuela.” Professor Manuela looks like she’s fighting a smirk. She knows. Veery knows that she knows. “I want to shift.”

Professor Manuela chuckles. “Please forgive him, Lady Rhea. He gets grumpy when he’s stuck in one form for too long, and I’ve told him not to shift without a physician present.”

Grumpy? …Okay, yeah, that’s fair.

“It is quite alright.” Lady Rhea at least seems to find it amusing, from the tone of her voice. Veery is tugging on Manuela’s sleeve, not looking at Rhea, so he doesn’t know if she’s smiling. She sounds like she is. “In fact, I am delighted to already be learning new things about you, Veery.”

Gross. Veery just wants to shift and get out of here.

“I’m afraid I must return to my duties. I pray for a swift recovery for the both of you.” With that, and a flourish, Rhea leaves the infirmary.

Seteth looks uncomfortable. “Veery, I understand that you are not fond of her, but please do think about Rhea’s offer.” Isn’t he already committed? He doesn’t think it is even an “offer” anyway, even if he is the kind of person who goes back on his word that he will. Which he’s not.

“Veery doesn’t like Rhea?” Flayn asks. “Whyever not?”

“If only to understand her better,” Seteth says, apparently knowing exactly how Veery works, “I implore you to give her a chance.” A chance or a fourth? Either way, Veery says he will so he will, and Seteth already hits his buttons full on. If he can understand Rhea better, that’s another step towards understanding humans. If he avoids learning about the people he doesn’t like, he won’t learn anything about an entire subset of humans.

But he still wants the sun and a nap. Rhea can wait.

“I already said I will,” Veery sighs. “Can I shift now?”

“Wait!” Flayn protests. “Why do you dislike Rhea?”

“Seteth’ll tell you. I need a nap. And some sun. And to shift. Manuela.”

Manuela groans, pulling his hand off of her sleeve to get him to stop tugging it. “You really do turn into whole different person when you want to be alone.”

“Yeah,” Veery says. “Duh. Want to be alone and want to talk to people is very different.”

Manuela rolls her eyes. Flayn giggles. Seteth sighs. “Fine, fine,” Manuela says. “Hold still so I can see that wound.”

[likeapray3r]

Have a lot to say today… have been pondering all day. I feel a little bad about being rude to my mom the last time I saw her… I am constantly on edge and nothing like myself around my parents. I guess I just feel off when I’m with them. Part of me just never wants them to have access to the parts of me that are honest and true because every single time I’ve ever given an inch of myself in any way they’ve taken it and somehow found every way to use it against me or find a way to make me feel bad so they can manipulate me to change my mind about my own personal set of morals. I don’t know… I was extra triggered when she started talking about her and my fathers new Diet blah blah blah diet this diet that *insert comment about another diet-obsessed family member constantly talking about needing to lose weight as a conversation topic* it’s just never ending for them. I feel like I’ve been hearing the same conversation for 23 years and I’ve finally had enough of it. I kind of snapped at her … I know she might not even see it as an issue but it’s just so deeply rooted and nobody can convince me otherwise. It’s not normal to go your entire life talking about needing to transform yourself physically over and over again in this obsessively insecure and intense way… I know I’ve definitely had the same thought pattern before but it’s just that… I honestly only signed up for workout classes to help my Bad Brain because my mental health has always been really overwhelming and it’s one of the first suggestions to take when wanting to improve a mind and overall well-being…I have refused to step on a scale, I never wonder about it, I honestly don’t care to know. I know I feel great! I eat whatever I want! Yeah it’s nice to see “positive” physical changes happen to the infrastructure of my humanity flesh suit but I don’t want to think of any of these changes as “goals”. Idk I just know I personally have gone through A LOT lately and it’s been a constant change and transformation in many aspects! I guess I just wish other people can change their viewpoint on body image but I know it’s a deeply unfortunate cause to a standard society has set out way before anyone could ever realize it’s all an egoic ploy and modernized capitalistic cash grab that sells “saving” yourself. They sell a dream that people will finally see you as a “human” because you look a way that’s “acceptable” and “good” and “clean” or whatever the fuck these freaks think. Maybe try this fad diet :) and buy this targeted product!!! I think it’s just ugly. And a really personal topic. I mean, these are the same people who made it their priority to let me know I didn’t fit their standards before I could even form my own coherent thoughts. I just think their cruelness was a double edged sword. They made me hate myself so early on in life but I still want them to realize it isn’t ok to think like this because I can’t imagine what it’s like a day in their mind, for years and years on end. I know it isn’t about me but it doesn’t feel right to know a lot of this was all swept under the rug and I never received the support and overall love especially when they knew how bad it got for me at certain times. It just feels sick and twisted. Why was it that their first instinct when they found out about my disordered eating+depression+self harm+openly suicidal confessions was to threaten and hit me over and over again. Why was I only yelled at. Why did all of it ever revolve around them. I feel like I never got any safety over it. It was hours of pure hell and then never spoken about again. I just had to figure out how to fix myself all on my own. And now I can openly admit that I am doing better than I ever have…and there’s STILL a lot of work to do. It just doesn’t sit right with me that these conversations still exist when they know everything. It just feels wrong. It doesn’t feel right at all. And I know they think I’m selfish for not wanting to hear about it now. I don’t know

[vodkassassin]

Inspired by your Jiuplane fic, Everyone loves SQH series and Nighthaunting's work.

Shen Jiu has never actually spared much attention to An Ding. While he doesn't consider them less-his past would never allow himself to look at anyone being derided for doing 'servant duties' less- he also doesn't pay much attention to them. Ever since Shang Qinghua modified the teleportation talismans for transporting large amounts of goods between the Peaks, An Ding disciples have all but disappeared from view. Shen Qingqiu occasionally saw a groundskeeper or a cook return back to An Ding but that was about it. He was pretty sure that people outside the sect saw more of the Logistics Peak than the people in it. And during meetings Shang Qinghua barely makes a sound, just records whatever was he was supposed to and just vanish off to his peak the minute the meeting inevitably ended in chaos. It was like An Ding never existed.......in hindsight, that should have been suspicious. But Shen Qingqiu never even noticed glaring absence and he would forever berate himself for that. It happened quite unexpectedly. Shen Qingqiu was supposed to go on mission with Qi Qingqi, the only Peak Lord he could tolerate beyond a certain period of time but Xuan Shu Peak suddenly had an emergency that she had to take care. Mu Qingfang was busy with preparing the Baying Moon Jade Orchid that he had been given (Really that should've tipped him off! Those flowers were ludicrously expensive because they only grow in the Demon Realm and Mu Qingfang had been given an entire crate of them along with his monthly supplies!), and the only other Peak Lords available were Liu Qingqe and Shang Qinghua. The choice was obvious.

The mission was relatively simple. Wan Jian disciples had been sent as a response to a request for assistance from a cluster of villages deep in a mountain valley. The disciples had found evidence of a large monster but it seemed to be intelligent and the presence of cultivators had run it off to a cave system. By the trails it left and it's actions, the lead disciple had judged it too dangerous for normal disciples, especially in the enclosed spaces of a cave system and had reported to his Peak Lord. The mission thus had been entered into the Peak Lords' roster. It should have been routine, should have been simple. But Shen Qingqiu had the world's worst luck and so everything turned sideways within ten minutes of them entering the cave.

First of all, the monster seemed to have destabilized the cave so they got caved in. Secondly, it wasn't a monster at all but a demonic beast, a Thousand Screams of Ruin Swan, a rabid thing that was created when someone forcibly corrupted a Thousand Screams Swan with too much demonic qi. And finally, the beasts absolutely hated each other. A Thousand Screams Swan had the ability to gauge the truth and a lie in its presence would not only prompt the most ear piercing of all screeches but also destabilizes the qi of the liar in particular and produce unimaginable pain. The southern demon courts use the swan in interrogations, putting the accused and the swan in enclosed spaces and the interrogators questioning from behind a sound muffling seal. However if the swan were overloaded with too much malicious qi, it would grow to enormous sizes and it's screech would actually cause death to anyone in the vicinity. In this state it was called a Thousand Screams of Ruin Swan. So after every interrogation the beast is taken for purification. The question is how a pair of valuable demonic beasts from the Southern Demon courts end up in a remote village far away from the borderlands?

If it was any other situation, Shen Qingqiu would've been fascinated. But as it was he had no time to dawdle. The confined space of the caves meant that the screeches of the swan would be magnified in intensity and their muffling shields were already cracking under the pressure of the sound waves. If they did, they would be dead as their qi system would be destabilized enough to cause a painful death. Shen Qingqiu, with his already unstable qi was extremely vulnerable in this situation. With Shang Qinghua having no combat ability to think of, they were completely under the mercy of two rabid S-rank demonic beasts who hated them and each other.

Then the shields cracked. Shen Qingqiu barely had time to close off his hearing using qi before Shang Qinghua disappeared into one of the caves with a beast after him. On one hand Shen Qingqiu now had to worry about only one Thousand Scream of Ruin Swan. On the other hand, no hearing was a double edged sword in a situation like this and there was no back up, negligible as it would have been. But he marshalled his focus and unsheathed Xiu Ya. If that overgrown bird thought that the Qing Jing Peak Lord was going down without a fight, it was wrong.

Two hours later the fight was still going on. His head was hurting only from being flung into the stone walls of the cave but also from sealing off his hearing for so long. The Beast's rampage had destroyed one of the cave walls and they had both fallen into a lake within the cave system. Shen Qingqiu had somehow managed to pull himself out of the water, not being stupid enough to fight a water fowl in water. He was exhausted, looked like a wet rag and was bleeding. There was no sign of Shang Qinghua and that either meant he was dead or that Shen Qingqiu was so far off from the main caves that he wouldn't be found in time. While the former was more likely, he at least hoped that Shang Qinghua made it to the surface and called for help because as much as he hated to admit it, that brute Liu Qingqe and his brutish sword would be helpful at the moment. He was tiring and his core couldn't hold on any longer while the beast was all but brimming in energy. It lunged and the Peak Lord futilely brought up his sword, knowing it wouldn't do anything, realizing that this was the end of Shen Jiu, dead by a rabid bird in a fucking cave. And then...there was light.

Lightning, there was lightning in the cave, huge arcs of it racing towards the beast and striking it over and over, the lake water acting as a conductor and exacerbating the damage. And on a ledge, was a creature wearing Shang Qinghua. Because that couldn't be Shang Qinghua. Shang Qinghua was a mousy, nervous, skittish mess of a man. Non obtrusive, and a pushover. He was weak and had no combat abilities to speak of. He barely had a core....except that wasn't true was it? None of them had ever seen Shang Qinghua fight. None of them had ever felt the power of his core. Shang Qinghua always ran solo and the occasional company of his head disciple so none of them had been on a mission with him. In fact, none of them knew anything about Shang Qinghua. They just assumed that he was weak...because he was An Ding and acted like a coward. But now it was clear Shen Qingqiu that it was by design. It should have impossible to constantly keep up a facade like that but looking at the imperious creature watching on dispassionately at the Demonic Beast writhing in his lightning, Shen Qingqiu knew that the impossible had been done.

The creature that was Shang Qinghua jumped down from the ledge and made his way to Shen Qingqiu. He was clutching a Thousand Screams Swan now back to its original size. He was barefoot. His clothing was ripped in places. A large slit too clean to be from the beast ran up both his legs just shy of his hips revealing long legs adorned in gorgeous ink patterns climbing up them and disappearing up the torso. It was clear Shang Qinghua cut them up to increase mobility. The sleeves were also ripped, also covered with beautiful tattoos and the high collar of the robes were open showing off beautiful collar bones. His hair was left free and falling russet waves down his back to his knees and with each shift Shen Qingqiu could see a silver shine of what seems to be metal strings woven into it. He was... He was a vision.

Shang Qinghua was always covered. He wore high collar robes that never showed an inch of skin on his body. So seeing him with his legs and arms and his collar visible, it was obscene! Shen Qingqiu realized to horror that he was blushing. His entire face was burning! Shang Qinghua must have succubus blood in him! He must have! Shen Qingqiu is not the type to blush at every pretty face! He hoped to the gods that Shang Qinghua just think of his blushing face as a result of exertion.

As Shang Qinghua drew closer, Shen Qingqiu noticed something strange. Gauntlets. Silver gauntlets carved with seals. Two on the ankles, two on the wrists. And one collar on the neck. Hidden underneath high collar robes as they were, this was the first time Shen Qingqiu had ever seen them. At first they looked like enhancers and looking at the lightning still attacking the beast which seemed to be getting smaller and smaller, it seemed most likely. But Shen Qingqiu was done assuming things about Shang Qinghua. And he was right, because closer inspection revealed the seals to be limiters. Shen Qingqiu for the first time since he became a Peak Lord, was truly astonished. Limiter seals active on five points on the body and undoubtedly forming a restructure five point qi circuit and still manages to defeat two S class demonic beasts? Incredible. Shen Qingqiu wanted to know everything about him. He wanted to burrow underneath his skin. He has never wanted anything more.

After the Beast shrunk down somehow, Shang Qinghua retrieved it with a talisman that seemed to be some sort of Binding. He silently clutched the swans together and made his way to one of the caves, silently motioning for Shen Qingqiu to follow. As they made their way up the caves, Shen Qingqiu looked at his mysterious companion and told him what he was adamant about from the moment he saw the other bring down the wrath of the heavens,

"You can't hide from me anymore."

Shang Qinghua was silent. Then, like a whisper of silk on soft skin, he replied,

"I can try."

Shen Qingqiu smirked,

"Yes you can. But you won't succeed."

The Xiu Ya sword looked the two beasts the other was holding, two Thousand Screams Swans.

"Is Shang Lei even a real name? "

The other didn't answer and that was an answer in itself. Shen Qingqiu couldn't wait to have him.

Anon oh my god this is GORGEOUS!!! Thank you for feeding me, it was delicious!! Bamf SQH! Beautiful SQH! Badass, pretty, mysterious SQH!!!! Attractive as hell, an unattainable prospect!!!

@nighthaunting look look, it’s our writing child

[party-gilmore]

Plotlines I Know They Won't Do But I Still Wanna See Anyway #37:

The Team gets a some kind of coded distress signal from Hardison. They are, obviously, freaking out but trying to hold it together so they can put together some kind of rescue plan. They come up with where he's being held, get an idea of by who, and start working on an extraction plan.

Eliot is trying to be his usual "I'm the strong one, I'm the support, I've gotta take care of everyone else" self but being the retrieval specialist this plan is going to rely on him a LOT so there's added stress and then also, if we're going by the conversation with Sophie at the end of the Double Edged Sword, still trying to keep his, Hardison's, and Parker's particular romantic entanglement on the downlow and ALLLL this extra stress has him struggling. Buckling, even.

We get a touching scene with him and Parker where she lays out for him what Hardison did for her back in the Queens Gambit - you had to be [the strong one] because that's what you had to do to survive when it was just you, but you have a team now, and we can take some of that burden from you. Let us. We can do this.

(It got long, continued below)

So it's very sweet and he gives up some of his control with being The Protector and learns to share that role with everyone going after Hardison, revealing the nature of their relationship in the process and it's all very sweet.

EXCEPT!!!!!

They start their exfil run, and it turns out? NO HARDISON!!! It was a trap!!!! Of course the bad guys didn't get Hardison, how could they?? The guilt weighs on Eliot and Parker - what did they miss? Was their judgement so clouded by love and fear for their partner that they made mistakes they normally wouldn't while planning the con? What went wrong? How could someone have fooled them so thoroughly??? Who could have mimicked Hardison's signature like that?? Who knows his algorithms enough to-

Then, the Big Bad Guys own hacker steps out from the shadows...

Cha0s.

The ep ends on that cliffhanger leading us into the season finale where:

[Title Card - "Three Days Ago"]

Hardison, noticing some funny business going on with some alerts he set up to keep him informed if The Team gets into any real bad trouble, does some digging and makes it into the surveillance feed of the Big Bad's HQ where he and Cha0s are working on their plan.

It's already too late to head The Team off - Cha0s has gotten some weird fucking buffer into the system while Hardison's been busy elsewhere (which, he's kicking himself a bit for that, but he knows that kind of danger comes with the job - as good as he is, he knows it only takes one lucky day for another hacker to become The Bigger Fish) so he can't reach out directly with The Team already entrenched in the Con. Any attempts would alert Cha0s to the fact that Hardison knew what was going on and honestly? He'd rather keep that element of surprise. Let Cha0s think he's winning for now, while Hardison works outside of the usual channels to assemble a very Last Dam Job -esque team of his own.

Some new faces from Lev. Int., Mr. Quinn (of course), maybe even some Russian mob connections they have (maybe they left a good impression after "catering" a wedding, or something like in the Real Fake Car job where they made an arrangement after a con one time with a local boss who actually protects the people in their territory).

They break into the facility at the same time the Leverage team does - we learn over the course of this episode that the "lucky breaks" the team caught on the way in last ep (before they were captured) - distracting the worst of the mercenaries or clearing the path faster - were actually the result of traps set up by Hardison's team.

The climax of the ep is right where we left off last time - the Team trapped in the center of the compound, the trick revealed, Cha0s stepping out of the shadows, taunting them with something like "oh I wish Hardison were really here, I truly do, just so he could see what we're about to do to his precious little team-"

"Anybody ever tell you be careful what you wish for?" Hardison's voice echoes all around the room from every computer, every PA system speaker, every cellphone, and as everyone looks around the dim room frantically all the lights snap on at once, half blinding them. The Big Bad Guy is flailing, covering his eyes with arms screaming, "WHO THE HELL IS THIS?"

The same omnipresent Hardisom voice comes again, "well, it's definitely not Eliot."

And Quinn slams into the guy outta nowhere, kicking off the exfiltration plan.

(Somewhere in the midst of course, Quinn FINALLY gets to hit Cha0s.)

[drawlfoy]

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

~ 

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy. 

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

~

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two. 

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him. 

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers. 

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door. 

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time. 

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled. 

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her. 

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks. 

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth. 

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile. 

Task 1? Technically done.

~ 

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable. 

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation. 

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her. 

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N. 

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone. 

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys. 

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was. 

“What is it?” 

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back. 

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs. 

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??” 

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her. 

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on. 

“Y/L/N?” 

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

~

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match. 

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms. 

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made. 

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her. 

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled. 

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. 

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.” 

“Why?” 

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.” 

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin. 

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.” 

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest. 

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood. 

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own. 

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him. 

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost. 

~ 

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!” 

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink. 

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia. 

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed. 

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked. 

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face. 

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before? 

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder. 

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me. 

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes. 

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.” 

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.” 

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour. 

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.” 

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.” 

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck. 

~

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him. 

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow. 

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica. 

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?” 

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

~

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what. 

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned. 

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper. 

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove. 

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.” 

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait. 

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill. 

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower. 

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?” 

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?” 

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress. 

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps. 

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

~

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim. 

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings. 

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot. 

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe. 

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking. 

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭