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digitalstowaway · 4 years ago

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Wright! Don't jinx this case any worse than it already is! It's bad for my heart...

Edgeworth didn’t remember ever going to bed. He had a fairly strict ritual he usually followed every night while in the middle of trials. Trudging through the front door, changing out of his suit and folding it on his dresser, plugging in his phone, brushing his teeth with his eyes half-closed, and finally falling into bed for a nice six hours of sleep.

He was quite confused when he woke up and felt a mattress and pillow under him and blankets tucking him in without any memory of getting there.

But then he felt a familiar tight ache in his chest and a familiar beeping, and he realized that no, he hadn’t put himself to bed the night before. He had, however, chased a suspect with Wright in the dead of night until he collapsed. He had crashed hard onto his right side. The blossoming pain in his shoulder had done nothing to distract him from the pulsing, squeezing pressure in his chest.

He opened his eyes. The room spun just a little. Not like the sky had hours before. On his right was an IV drip and a clamp on his finger attached to a machine, letting the world know that his heart rate was higher than it should have been. On his left was Phoenix Wright glaring at him.

Glaring at him and holding a bag of grapes in his lap.

“Why do you have grapes?” Edgeworth asked. Talking, he found, left him a bit breathless.

“I had Maya bring them for you,” Wright said. “I hoped you might choke on the seeds.”

He threw them on the bed, on top of the sterile-blue blanket. Edgeworth looked at the packaging. There was a painting of a sunny vineyard that stretched for miles and above it, in bold font—

“Those are seedless.”

“Shut up.”

“Why,” Edgeworth coughed and tried disguising it as him clearing his throat, “are you angry?”

“Because I was just told that you have heart arrhythmia and that you’ve had it for years. And for some reason, despite us being friends, you never thought to tell me until I thought you were dying last night!”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not a big deal? You literally almost had a heart attack. I almost had a heart attack.”

“And we’re both fine.”

Wright crossed his arms over his chest. He pointed his glare to a white board across the room which declared Edgeworth as being a fall risk and having last been examined at 5:30 am. Nursing staff really made him feel old. A fall risk. It was just a heart condition. He was an otherwise healthy, young man.

Who just so happened to collapse every so often when said heart condition took its toll on him after long trials and stressful cases. Or high-speed runs outside abandoned warehouses at night.

“I don’t think you’re fine, Edgeworth,” Wright said, still giving the white board a look it certainly didn’t deserve. “You look like shit right now.”

He didn’t exactly want to know what he looked like. He imagined it wouldn’t be surprising. It would be like every time he found himself waking up in a hospital or on the floor of his office or an evidence room. The same pale complexion. The same dark smudges under his eyes. He always looked like a corpse as Gumshoe said.

“I’m fine.”

Wright still didn’t look pleased, but at least his eyes had softened. He looked Edgeworth up and down. Probably in search of a tell or some evidence to prove that it was a lie. But he seemed to give up after only a few seconds. Obviously, Edgeworth wasn’t well. But it would be impossible (and pointless) to get him to admit to it.

“So what do you need to do?” he asked, and it almost sounded like, What do I need to make sure you do?

“What do you mean?”

“To, you know, manage it. Do you take medication or something?”

“I do, but it’s not very effective.” Edgeworth flexed his right hand. He hated the IV catheters. He knew that they would never rip or tear out of his arm, but they were still uncomfortable. With the tape used to keep them in place, he could never forget that the drip was there. “It’s not effective enough, I should say.”

“Not enough to keep you from keeling over at a crime scene.” Wright rubbed his eyes. “Is there anything else they can do?”

He looked tired. There was a faint shadow of stubble across his jaw. He was still in his suit, though the tie and collar was loose and his jacket was tossed over the chair he was slumped in. He must have been there the entire night. Probably begging nurses and doctors to let him stay past visiting hours.

No. Persuading them. Wright was a lawyer. He probably had a neat list of reasons why he should have been allowed to stay that the staff couldn’t argue with.

But Wright was also Wright. Those lists of reasons definitely came out in a begging tone.

“There’s an option for surgery,” Edgeworth said.

“Oh.”

Edgeworth threw the blankets off of him, disrupting the grapes. Wright jumped up to help him and then to grab his hand when he tried pulling his IV line himself.

“Let’s call someone to do that.”

So, Edgeworth waited as patiently as he could while the call button blinked. Wright ran his fingers through his hair. It didn’t have the usual sharpness to it, the gel or pomade or whatever he used worn out by then.

“What’s the surgery?”

“It would be to implant a defibrillator.”

“They can stick that in you?”

“They can. But it’s not exactly the most practical thing to have done. Not right now.”

Wright nodded, satisfied with the answer for the moment. Edgeworth wouldn’t tell him that practical timing wasn’t due to risks of the surgery or the severity of the condition but instead his own stubbornness. There wasn’t much time to carve out for recovery. It would mean weeks of light work. His own definition of light work—no long nights at his office, no on-scene investigations. It was too much to give up for the time being. He had told his doctors so for two years.

Edgeworth scanned the room. He saw his suit, folded somewhat neatly, on a chair against the wall. His jabot sat on top. Mud was caked on the frills. He remembered desperately trying to pull it off after falling to the ground.

Wright had finally untied it for him. His phone had been wedged between his shoulder and ear. His fingers were slick, Edgeworth could tell, as he fumbled at the knot.

The rest of his suit was probably covered in mud as well. Wright’s knees had a faint dusting on them. They looked as if they had been haphazardly scrubbed. Probably in the hospital’s bathroom.

“What time is it?” he asked.

Wright checked his watch. “Seven.”

“We still have three hours until court, then. Did you manage to save the evidence we found?”

“What?”

“We have trial at 10—”

“I know. But you’re not really planning on going, are you?”

“Of course.”

“You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“We just had this conversation. You almost had a heart attack.”

“And I’ve told you I’m fine. Besides, there’s no one else that can handle this case. You and I have already worked on it for two days now. No one else in the prosecutor’s office will be able to catch up on what we’ve been doing—not to mention, what we have been doing isn’t exactly looked graciously on by the office.”

Wright grabbed his jacket.

A nurse walked in. When she saw Edgeworth sitting up with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed, she frowned and put her hands on her hips. She was an older woman—used to difficult patients, then. Wright passed her on his way to the door.

“Wright—”

“I’m tired, Edgeworth. I’m going to try to sleep as much as I can before the trial.” The nurse began pushing Edgeworth back down into bed. “By the way, I did ask Maya and Gumshoe to grab the evidence. They’ll be happy to know you’re fine.”

The nurse pushed on Edgeworth’s shoulder. He leaned back against the pillows. His breathing came a little hard. His chest ached more than it did minutes ago.

Wright walked out.

After all, Edgeworth was fine.

#ace attorney #this is just kinda dumb and short and maybe i'll put it on ao3 in a couple of days #but it's inspired by an earlier post #it's very self indulgent #uhhh i'm gonna tag this as #bad for my heart au #i like making edgeworth suffer uwu #my fics #i promise i can write better than this i just wanted to do this tonight and not put a lot of effort into it

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spicycreativity · 3 years ago

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Howl- Ch. 3

Chapter: 3/10

Add'l Notes: Fic is posted in full on my AO3, WizardGlick

Chapter content warnings: Depictions of alcohol use

“Nothing,” Remus pronounced. His breath ghosted over Virgil’s ear and he shuddered, pulling away so he could look Remus in the face. Remus was still in his work clothes and he smelled, not wholly unpleasantly, of sweat and dirty water.

“Nothing?” Virgil ran his pointer fingers behind both ears, just barely resisting the urge to dig in with his nails and see for himself, dammit.

“I think you’d know if aliens had stuck a tracking chip in your head,” Remus said, his own fingers dancing across the countertop toward the basket of enamel pins by the register.

Virgil ran his fingertips across his temples, still feeling for something, some marking or scar. “But if it wasn’t aliens...”

“Far be it from me to be the voice of reason,” Remus said, “but are we sure you weren’t just sleepwalking? Or high on peyote?"

Virgil continued to track Remus' fingers as he stuck his hand in the basket. "If you steal anything, it comes out of my paycheck." Not strictly true, but it would make Remus pause.

"I wasn't gonna steal!" Remus exclaimed, holding up his hands. "But now I kinda want to."

"Please don't." Virgil sighed and put his face in his hands. He'd noticed a strange metallic taste in his mouth after waking up properly, and even the desperate mouthfuls of Monster he'd been forcing down his throat couldn't seem to touch it. It hadn't touched his exhaustion much, either. Whatever Virgil had been up to last night had not been a restful activity.

"Oh, c'mon, don't freak out." Remus' hand sat heavy on Virgil's shoulder, warming him through the thin fabric of his Baphomet t-shirt. "You were probably just sleepwalking. It happens all the time. Roman used to sleepwalk all over the place when we were kids. One time we even found him asleep in the yard. Naked, just like you."

Virgil peeked over his fingertips. "Really?" Remus was not the type to lie to make someone feel better, but this story seemed a little far-fetched.

"I swear," Remus said, eyes wide with childish solemnity.

The only customer in the store stepped up to pay, and Remus stepped aside to let Virgil deal with them. He made faces behind their back, contorted himself into absurdly sexual poses and stuck out his tongue and wiggled his hips like Elvis in his prime. Virgil pursed his lips to keep from laughing. It had been a hard decision to ask Remus for help with this, but Virgil was glad he had chosen him.

Patton was a big softie and nearly as prone to panic as Virgil was. If he didn't escalate Virgil's paranoia about aliens then he would probably end up pressuring Virgil to make a police report. A useless endeavor, since no crime had actually occurred as far as Virgil knew. Roman and Janus would just make fun of him for being a tin foil hat-wearing loony. And Logan… Well. He might judge. He might not. But Virgil didn't want to look stupid in front of him. Not to mention that Logan would ask questions, force Virgil to face something he wasn't ready to face.

So Remus it was.

"Thank you," Virgil said when the customer had left and Remus had stopped gyrating his hips. "I know I'm being dumb and it was probably nothing."

"Janus isn't here right now," Remus said, pouring out the basket of enamel pins. They scattered and clicked across the countertop. "But if he was, I think he'd say--" Remus shifted his weight and crossed his arms, "'Now what did we say about negative self talk?'"

Virgil chose not to remind Remus that Bienvenue was only a few blocks away and he could easily go get Janus if he wanted. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I know it wasn't aliens."

"But if it was peyote, you do have to share," Remus said, his attention already back on the pins. He poked through them with one dirty fingertip.

Virgil watched for a moment, then joined in, turning the pins to face Remus so he could get a good look at them. Remus seemed particularly fixated on one shaped like a death's head moth. "That one's six dollars."

Remus braced his elbows on the counter and clasped his hands under his chin, lashes aflutter. "You know how you could repay me for checking your skull for alien trackers?"

Virgil nearly reached for his wallet before he realized what Remus was actually getting at. He sighed, biting back his smile all the while, and made a show of turning to inspect the rotating sticker display. "Uh-oh," he said in an exaggerated monotone. "I'd better make sure all the stickers are properly organized. Gee, I sure hope no one shoplifts while I'm doing that."

There was a brief moment of silence. It was broken when Remus, presumably done pocketing the pin, said, "So bowling night?"

"Huh?" said Virgil, trying to find the dirty joke. Maybe something about balls?

Remus pulled his phone out of the pocket of his work pants and shook it at Virgil. "Pastor Patton's little group bonding venture?"

"Don't call him that," Virgil muttered, digging his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, of the messages he'd been ignoring all morning, one was a new group chat. He read through the messages. "How did Patton get your number?"

"Roman gave it to him."

"How'd he get Janus' number?"

Remus grinned. "I gave it to him. No way am I suffering through some corny adult bonding shit without backup."

"Am I not backup?" Virgil asked, unsure whether he should be offended.

"You can't be backup," Remus said dismissively. "You're the bridge. You forced me 'n' Roman to reunite, you made us all hang out. You're the bridge. You won't be as mean as I need you to be."

"I'm mean!" Virgil said. "I'm so mean!"

"Say something bitchy about Patton right now. Quickly!" Remus began to snap his fingers.

"Um," said Virgil. "Uh. Sometimes-- Well, sometimes he can be kinda… Smother-y?"

"Oh, please." Remus rolled his eyes. "That was almost healthy communication."

"Fine." Virgil crossed his arms over his chest.

Remus let him pretend to be upset for roughly three seconds. "But you are coming, right? Or are you gonna spend the night playing with Data's joystick?"

Virgil's cheeks went hot. "Of course I'm com--" He paused and reconsidered his choice of words. "Of course I'll be there. And Logan will, too."

"Wonder if I can start a betting pool," Remus said thoughtfully.

The bells on the door tinkled and Virgil leaned over to see past Remus. "Hi, welcome in," he said in his best customer service voice, which wasn't very good. "Let me know if I can help you find anything."

"Just browsing."

"Alright."

"Well," said Remus, affixing the moth pin to his hi-vis vest. "See you tonight?"

"Yeah," said Virgil. "Please be nice to Patton."

Remus winked and started to back out. "Sorry! Hazing is mandatory."

He slipped out the door, leaving Virgil to marinate in his anxiety.

Although he was exhausted, Virgil went for a short walk after work. He wandered by Bienvenue and stared at the fancy suits in the window and wondered how Janus always had the audacity to dress like he was attending a funeral at a high-end night club. His feet took him forward and he smiled a little. If there was one thing Janus had in abundance, it was audacity.

He stopped again by the reflecting pool at the Plaza and read the plaque. It had very little information and devoted barely half a sentence to the supposed curse. A shiver ran down Virgil's spine. He took a deep breath and carefully did not panic. As Logan would say, he shouldn't jump to conclusions. He needed more data.

Virgil didn't want more data. He would happily chalk his misadventure up to sleepwalking and banish it forcefully to his subconscious, if only it would never, ever happen again. He shivered again despite the balmy weather and muffled a yawn behind his hand. Time to go home and get whatever sleep he could before the inevitable disaster of bowling night.

He managed to get home without hitting any potholes. Whatever stormy weather had threatened Vaillant earlier in the week seemed to have passed, and he was treated to a spectacular view of a great blue heron flying low over the road. He even managed a few hours of sleep before he had to wake up and get ready.

He chose his outfit with care, scrutinizing it through Logan's eyes. What would Logan like? What did Logan like? Virgil had no idea about his preference in men or how he slotted into it. Was it his height? His body shape? His eyes? What should he play up to make Logan like him? So Logan wouldn't regret choosing to be with him?

He dithered over this until he made himself late, and chose an outfit that he felt good in: long sleeves, long pants, the reassuring weight of his hoodie on his shoulders.

He kept it zipped up to his neck even after he entered the warmth and light of Vaillant's singular bowling alley, Gator Lanes. His friends were already seated. Waiting. For him.

Despite the wash of guilt, Virgil slowed and surveyed the scene. Patton and Logan sat on one of the low, pleather couches with a pair of bowling shoes between them. That left Roman, Remus, and Janus wedged on the other couch. They all looked like they were getting along, which was good. Roman and Remus were speed-eating French fries while the others talked.

Virgil approached from the back, gesturing for Patton and Logan to be quiet. He didn't miss the way Logan's eyes lit up; it sent a pleasant little rush of adrenaline all through his veins. When he was close enough, he leaned over and stole the pineapple off the rim of Janus' hurricane glass. It was dyed red from grenadine and tasted vaguely of rum.

"It's fine," said Janus, casually flipping Virgil the bird. "I wasn't saving that or anything."

"Guess you'll have to get another one," Remus said.

They started bickering about how drunk was too drunk for bowling night, so Virgil came around to Patton and Logan's side of the table. He kissed Logan hello while Patton explained about the shoes: "They were out of your size, so I got a size down instead of up, because I know you wear those really thin socks and I didn't want you to slip."

"Thanks, Pat," Virgil said. His hand found Logan's, somehow, and he smiled. "I wouldn't have put that much thought into it."

"That's why you have me!"

"Can we start now?" Roman asked, wiggling in place.

Patton stood up to fiddle with the control, and Virgil forced himself to nuzzle Logan's jawline with his nose. He wanted to do it, but the idea of being witnessed while he did so made his skin crawl.

Logan turned his head so they were nose-to-nose and smiled before pulling away. "Do you want me to order you a drink? We were going to, but we weren't sure what you'd want."

Roman threw a straw wrapper at them. "We're just about to start!"

"You're up second, too," Patton said cheerfully, flopping back down on the couch. "I put us in alphabetical order."

"I'll go, then," Virgil said. He squeezed Logan's hand and let go of it, stood.

"Don't forget to put your bowling shoes on," Janus said, eying Virgil's ratty leather ankle boots. Janus himself had somehow done the impossible and matched the colors of his suit to the dull red and blue of Gator Lanes' bowling shoes, making his whole outfit look deliberately tacky.

"When I get back."

"I'll go with you!" Roman got to his feet. "I already know I'm gonna lose. What's one more drink?"

"That's the spirit!" Remus said.

"Ha," said Patton, "I get it."

They turned to go, Roman bumping Virgil with his hip to prompt him forward. "So you and Logan, huh?" he said once they were out of earshot. "How's that going?"

"Fine," Virgil said, feeling the blush crawl onto his face. It was a short walk to the bar, but it suddenly seemed like miles and miles.

"You sure keep things close to your chest, don't you? Didn't say a word to me." Roman crossed his arms and looked sideways at him.

"I didn't think I had a chance!" Virgil exclaimed. "Wait. Did he say something to you?"

Roman winked at him, shushed him, and bellied up to the bar so he could order. Virgil hung back, one hand on his wallet, but Roman waved a hand. "Janus has a tab going," he said, turning back to Virgil.

"Does Janus know he has a tab going?" Virgil asked.

"Uh, yeah, it's not like I stole his card."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Virgil said, thinking of Remus and the moth pin.

"Ugh, you worry too much."

"This shouldn't be news to you, Roman, I have 'Worry Too Much' Disorder." Virgil flicked at his zipper pull. "Wait, so did Logan say anything to you?"

Roman smiled, even laughed a little. "Uh, yeah, he practically asked me and Patton for permission to ask you out. He made us promise not to tell you. Honestly, it was kinda cute how nervous he was."

"Nervous?" Virgil repeated. It was obvious now, but it hadn't occurred to him that Logan had lost just as much sleep over Virgil as Virgil had over him.

A harried-looking bartender popped up behind Roman, slid their drinks over, and vanished again practically before Virgil could force out a 'thank you.' Roman passed him his vodka Red Bull. "Let's go."

"Alright." Virgil sighed. It was probably better not to try to wring the details out of Roman, especially since he'd said that Logan had told him not to tell.

They reached their lane and he scooted in next to Logan, snuggling up a lot closer than was necessary, especially given that Patton was currently up to bowl. "Welcome back," Logan said.

Virgil set his drink on the table and began to change his shoes over. "Having fun yet?" he asked Janus. He was still a little resentful that Remus and Janus didn't think he could be mean anymore. Just because he didn't want to shit-talk Patton behind his back. Sure, Remus had been the one to say it, but Virgil had no doubt the sentiment originated with Janus.

"Sure, I guess there's a sort of primal thrill in hurling a 14-pound ball at a target," Janus said primly.

"10 pounds," Logan said.

Virgil bit down on his lip to hide his smile.

"I'm sorry?" Janus tilted his head.

Logan gestured at the bright yellow ball sitting in the ball return. "10 pounds, not 14." Patton's ball came back, followed shortly thereafter by Patton. "16 pounds," Logan said.

"Pat's strong," Virgil said, elbowing Patton as he sat down. Janus bit down on an ice cube. "By the way," said Virgil, feeling a spark of pure evil manifest inside himself. "Have you guys made cutting boards yet?" To Janus, he said, "It's kind of a tradition."

"I'd heard," Janus said, shooting him a covert dirty look.

Virgil smiled at him and turned to Patton. "Janus would rather die than say so, but I can tell he's excited."

"Oh, good!" Patton said. To Janus, he said "I was actually a little worried you wouldn't want to do it."

Virgil's killing strike was delayed slightly by Remus' reappearance and Roman's subsequent disappearance, and he knew he had to act quickly or Janus would wiggle out of it when Virgil was taking his turn. Remus finally sat and stopped crowing about his spare, which no one had witnessed. Virgil pounced. "Bienvenue is closed on Sundays, isn't it?" he said to Janus, as though the shop hadn't kept the same hours for years. "Maybe you guys could do it then."

"The weather should be clear, too," Logan chimed in. Virgil looked at him, trying to gauge if he had picked up on the game, but his face gave nothing away.

"Works for me!" Patton said. "I'm putting the finishing touches on a coffee table for somebody down south, but I can make time on Sunday."

"Great," said Janus with a plastic smile Virgil knew he usually reserved for difficult customers. The daggers in his eyes promised a thorough bitching-out later, but Virgil didn't even care. So he wasn't mean anymore, hm?

"All you," said Roman, tapping Virgil on the shoulder.

Virgil nodded and took a long swallow of his vodka Red Bull. It was stupid, but walking up to bowl always felt like walking out on stage. He knew full well none of his friends were paying attention and even if they were, their friendly teasing was nothing to worry about. They knew when to stop. But still, his heart quivered as he approached the lane. By sheer luck, he managed not to get a gutter ball, then turned and hovered awkwardly as he waited for his ball to come back.

Logan caught his eye and winked at him, not even pausing in his explanation of the physics of bowling. Virgil smiled back, and suddenly everything seemed that much lighter, that much more bearable. He really had to stop worrying so much.

#ik the aesthetic boards are reminiscent of mid 2000s livejournal fic covers but whatever it's camp and i like doing it #sanders sides #analogical #virgil sanders #spicywrites #spicywrites howl

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ourlittlesecretokay · 3 years ago

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hi!! I know you are a very popular author and did get lots of engagement do you have advice on feeling “left out” so to speak in online communities? like posting on ao3 and getting very little engagement whereas others get hundreds of comments and things like that? I feel like in fandoms there’s always like a cool kid table and it’s a dumb thing to be sad about but it’s like damn why not me ya know? and I know everyone says you should write for yourself etc etc but it feels bad to get zero recognition at all esp when it’s something you worked hard on. idk im just feel bummed out maybe I took the internet safety thing too much to heart lmaooo. anyways hope ur well miss u love you!

Oh my godddd. Okay, okay, lemme organize myself.

Okay, so first off, I totally stumbled into it, and I think most of that has to do with how niche I will get. If you're writing something to fill a void, there's less seat at the table, you know? Doing something new, something a lil different. I remember freaking out over having two readers and texting my friend every time someone commented. And ngl, I still freak out over comments, they never get boring ahahaha. But also, reframing even the "small" numbers in yiur head, like, damn! Ten people read something? That's kinda bonkers when you think about it. People all over the world, putting in search filters, and you're what pops up!

Trying to break into a fandom is tough. There's usually already a "popular kids" table, but to keep with the metaphor, if you don't want to feel left out, find the table you ACTUALLY want to sit at. Join discords! Message people! Leave comments on other people's stuff! Get chatty! It's so much more fun to have a lil squad you can count on then trying to appeal to everyone. That can also help with the recognition stuff. I have a small group of people I know will read my stuff and give me their opinions, and they know I'll read their stuff and give my opinions.

If you want advice on how to build up subscriber count, my best guess is to put out a large net of stuff. Write what you enjoy. Don't be afraid to post half-baked concepts or just short lil stories. I know at least for me, if I really enjoy someone's style, I'll click through their stuff and look for more. Even if it's just a tumblr post like "what if..." I mean, damn, we had a whole symposium on the idea "Trader Joe's AU." People want to share ideas! They want to play too, you just gotta bring your toys to the table.

Also, keep it all in perspective. I've had things I loved absolutely flop. It's all just something you gotta take in stride. Write for you, absolutely, but also get comfortable. Get creative. Challenge yourself and actively work on expanding and developing your writing. And talk to other writers!!!!!!! I know that I generally recognize usernames, and if I see someone who I recognize has posted, I want to read and comment back. Or even just talk. If someone starts treating you like a lesser person because they're up on a fanfic high horse, that's just hilariously weird.

Pull up a chair. Make friends. Reply to comments. Brainstorm ideas. Enjoy yourself.

Love love love u 2 ❤️

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spac3bar7end3r · 4 years ago

Text

Tell Me That I'll Be Alright

Modern Wizarding World, Draco Stays in Muggle Part, Pre-relationship, Short fic, potion master Draco, auror Harry

For the prompt: “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”

2873 words

read on Ao3

‘For today's weather, the wind is calm. It will be sunny throughout the day. There is a chance of a little reunion happening. The person you don’t expect to see will walk through your door. It’s your choice to decide to close the door or open it once more.’

Luna’s message is cryptic. She is always cryptic, that’s for sure. But today’s message seems specific in a vague way (how can that be?) Normally it would be something like: your lucky person is the man who wears green, or something similar to that.

He loves it though, and it sells well both for muggles and in the wizarding world. It’s Luna’s own business, sending daily cryptic texts to subscribers. He once saw a muggle who has religiously studied her texts like verses in the bible.

If Luna said, he’s going to have a reunion today then so be it. Let’s hope it is not someone who wants to kill him. The weather is too good for a sparring today.

Draco Malfoy put his phone back in his pocket and locks his flat’s door before checking the time on his mobile phone. The young wizard smiles to himself. He has more spare time before work than usual.

He put his keys in his the other side of his pants’ pocket. The sound of the keys jingling echoes through the hallway. He looked up to nod at one of his old neighbour who is also going out of their resident. Draco smiles back when the other sends a smile his way like he always does.

He hums to himself while walking down the street. Maybe today is a great day to order coffee from the shop across the street. He deserves it. He has time to indulge himself in muggles’ fancy drinks (and he will!).

Draco orders a hot latte and a plain bagel. He smiles to the barista with a familiar face. Draco sees this bloke a lot when he becomes this shop’s regular (His first time here was a bit embarrassing because he cannot pronounce macchiato. What a dumb word.) The barista smiles flirtatiously, but Draco pretends like he doesn’t see it. He takes an effort to make small talk and puts the tips in a jar then goes out with his drinks and heavenly-smelled bagel in hands.

He unlocks the door when he reaches his office the muggle way, opening it and waves his hand, sending his scarf flying to the coat rack next to the door. The Closed sign hanging on the door flips itself and now showing Open instead. He turns on the light and the wireless before throwing his body on his chair. The smell of hot coffee and the gently sound of muggle’s music makes him feel lively for a second but then his mood shifts when Draco notices a letter on his desk, his brows furrowed at the pretentious, ugly wax seal and the department behind the symbol of the seal.

Comparing to the first time he received a letter from Hogwarts, this is like a 180 change. It is a letter from Gawain bloody Robards.

‘Dear Potion Master Draco Malfoy,’ written the letter, and Draco has to look up from the letter to sneer with himself for dramatic purpose.

And then he continues:

‘The Department of the Auror of the Ministry of Magic urgently needs your expertise on an important case since we believe your skills and knowledge will assist our works tremendously. We will send one of our officers to your office tomorrow. He will tell you all about the case.

We hope you will regard us in the same way that the Ministry has been regarding and assisting the Malfoy family. I believe it is quite a crucial time for us to support each other for the best of the wizarding world in this time and age.

Warm Regards,

Gawain Robards

Head Auror’

“Warm regards my arse.” Draco quickly looks through the content of the letter then throws the paper to the fire without care. He picks his coffee up and drinks, his mood now soiled. Since the letter was sent to him yesterday (Draco guesses it must be right after him getting out of his office. Robards is sly like that. That prat might have sent it knowing Draco wouldn’t be able to reject it in time.

Then that means ‘one of the officers’ is going to turn up here sooner or later. Draco takes a deep breath, not sure if he can school his expression well when seeing the people from the ministry. Those bastards always sneer at him because of the former Death Eater thing. Of course, Draco sneers back, but it doesn’t mean—

A sound of someone opening the door interrupts his thoughts. Draco lowers the volume of the music then looks at the visitor.

“Welcome—” Draco says to his potential customer but his voice cracks at the end. His gazes fixed on the person who just enters who looks as surprised as Draco (or maybe more).

It’s Potter.

‘The person you don’t expect to see will walk through your door.’ Luna’s message rings in his head. He stares openly at the figure standing at his door.

It’s Potter.

Of course, it’s Harry Potter. Why not?

“Malfoy, you’re wearing a beanie.” Potter blurts out with wide eyes. Draco raises his eyebrows, touching his beanie consciously then he looks at himself from head to toe: Graphic shirt with top buttons undone, muggle jeans and Doc Marten boots. Pansy called it ‘A typical, Hipster Muggle Look.’

Seven years since the war and this is what this blunt prat decided to say to his old classmate? Draco decides to also look at Potter thoroughly. Potter is not the only one who has eyes. He looks at The Gryffindor’s dirty boots, his old jeans that have more tears than to be a fashion statement, his dark blue t-shirt and a dark jacket in his hands… The outfit screams Potter the War Hero that he’s seen before on papers (except his body that well… fitter, more muscle on his body than when he was a gangly kid — but this is not what he should scrutinise at the moment, isn’t it?)

“Yes, I’m aware, Potter. Since it is on my head and all. Your point?”

“I thought the potion master has to be like—”

“Like what? Snape? Slughorn? Potter, need I remind you that this is 2019? Do you think that a potion master has to wear a robe, putting a cauldron in the centre of their workplace and still use owls to contact each other? Please, only people at the ministry do that. Tell them to email me next time.”

“But the ministry recommended you. I thought it would be an old bloke wearing a robe, acting like a ministry agent or something.” Potter explains, “Your manner is still kinda the same, though.”

“I’d bite my own tongue before I behave like those old bastards.”

“I think the current you is quite nice. I, er, I mean, I prefer you than those wizards and witches.”

Potter stammers and Draco tries not to overthink what the other said.

He tries to channel the old Draco Malfoy from his school years, chin up and all, “Actually I thought the ministry wouldn’t really want to ask me,” He twists his lips, directing a cocky smile at Potter, “But I guess they have no choice. I am an exceptional potion master, and they can’t get rid of my pretty face even if they want to.”

Potter has a small smile at the corner of his lips “I guess that’s true.”

Draco doesn’t know which part that Potter agreed with him. Potter is playing with the hem of his shirt awkwardly and just stands at the door. Draco coughs, waving the auror to his desk.

“Nice to reacquaint, Potter.” Draco looks directly into the green eyes. The ones that he’s never thought he would be able to have a chance to stare at again. “Put your jacket on the rack and come sit here.” He points to the chair at the other side of his desk before getting up and brewing tea for his old rival.

* * *

‘It’s your choice to decide to close the door or open it once more.’

Draco’s mind dwells on Luna’s words. What does that even mean? If her random prediction is accurate, then it means Draco needs to do something about…this? What is this anyway? And has he ever open the door to Potter, to begin with?

“You don’t look surprised to see me,” Potter says while he lightly puts the teacup on Draco’s desk.

“And what face do you want to see? I’ve lived around muggles for seven years, Potter. I guess I am great at feigning nonchalant to surprising shits now.” Draco thinks of all the weird muggle stuff he has encountered over the years.

“…”

“So are we going to talk about the ‘important case’ that Robards mentioned in the letter now?” Draco raises his eyebrow. Potter nods, swallowing before he grabs something from his pants pocket.

“We found this in the belongings of a squib in a muggle part of London. We have to work together with the muggle police. They think it was some kind of drug, but we also think it also has some kind of magic properties.” He puts the tiny bottle on Draco’s desk.

“Is there anybody at the ministry—”

“It seems like some chemical that the muggle seems to know of a lot. I heard you—"

“Doing research on muggle drugs and potion-making. Yes, I was. Did they drink this or inject themselves with it?” Draco opens the bottle and lightly smells the transparent liquid inside. They are not that different from the bottle of pure water.

“They drank it. The symptom is a daydreaming-like behaviour, but we also have one frozen wizard who looks like he was cast with the Full Body-Bind Curse. We still have not found a permanent cure for these symptoms.”

Draco nods, opening his top drawer and grabs the notepad. He jots down something quickly as if he’s afraid of forgetting it.

“I am well-acquainted with a muggle who’s in law enforcement. I could find some more details without unnecessary paperwork. Oh, but if you have any important details like the locations, other noticeable symptoms, forward it to me directly via email.” Draco grabs his phone and sends a text to said muggle before he forgets. He doesn’t want to contact this bloke without unnecessary because no matter how useful it is, this muggle is quite clingy, but he also wants to get rid of Potter as soon as possible.

He looks up to find Potter staring at his fingers. Draco stops, tilting his head as if asking a silent question when Potter notices him stopping.

“Uh, I, just, I’m not used to you using muggle stuff.” Potter coughs, blushing. “You even used emoji.” Potter nods towards Draco’s fingers, and with a small voice, he adds, “Is that an eggplant emoji? You used eggplant emoji? To that muggle?”

“Those were old texts.” Draco doesn’t know why he needs to quickly explain that to Potter (Lie. He actually knows why.) He puts down his phone and continues, “I might be able to find a cure. Maybe in two or three days. Do you want me sending the report or just—”

“I can come here for that.” Potter interrupts.

“Good. Because I hate having to getting in touch with the wizardry world.” Draco smiles darkly.

Potter slowly nods before looking around the office, looking for another topic to talk about.

“Nice office.”

“Thanks. I didn’t want the old-fashioned potion master vibe, so I tried to match it with the surrounding.” Draco nods towards the scenery outside the window.

“How is it here? I want to come here a few times but haven’t had a chance.”

“It’s alright. If you want some hipster muggle stuff, you’d like it here. You already have the look for it, I guess.” Draco raises his eyebrow at the auror.

Potter laughs, saying “Luna will absolutely love this place. I also notice a shop selling plants here. I’ll have to tell Neville about it.”

Draco smiles. “I contact Longbottom from time to time. I remembered he did research on some magical plants. He’s doing business now or…?”

“Yes, still about plants though.” Potter smiles. “I’m living in the same flat with him, and his plants.”

“You’re living with Longbottom? In Fulham? I thought you live in House Black’s house or with Weasley—”

“That was six years ago.” Potter interrupts.

Draco thought he became immune to surprising shits now that he’s getting older, but it seems like he still reacts the same way when it is concerning Potter. He raises one of his eyebrows, slowly taking a peek at Potter’s left hand—the part where he tries so hard not to stare since Potter has stepped inside.

However, there is no object that he’s scared to see. No ring. No wedding ring.

He thought Potter would have a happy ending after the war. Having a bunch of kids and living in a big house.

But it’s not like that. Potter’s eyes look sad. They seem like he saw something, even after the war. Something is hidden behind his green’s eyes that Draco doesn’t know what it is.

“So you’re single right now?”

“Yeah, I thought everyone knows that. The Daily Prophet and other editorials always write about my relationships like their lives depend on it. Witches Weekly also does that, putting me in a bachelor list every month or two.”

“Congrats on getting to be on the list, Scarhead. Unfortunately, I don’t get to see your mug on the papers since I don’t read wizard papers anymore because they are shit. Well, except the Quibbler. Luna is great at her job.”

“True.” Potter smiles lightly, “Do you subscribe to her daily prediction? I got an interesting text today.”

“I do, and yes, it was quite interesting.”

“Do we get the same text? How many people does she send it to? Is it randomised or something?”

“I don’t know. What’s yours say?”

“It says ‘don’t hesitate to go through the door.’ I don’t know what that means.”

“‘It’s your choice to close or open the door.’ is what I got.”

Potter raises his eyebrows. He swallows slowly and says, “And you, are you seeing anyone?” Potter asks, and Merlin, Draco hopes that it is a real hope glinting in Potter’s green eyes and it’s not just Draco’s hopeless desire projecting his old feeling from his unrequited crush during Hogwarts years. (Yes, at least Draco is brave to admit that now. Plus, He’s good at Occlumency. Even if Potter’s learned Legilimency, he still wouldn’t get a glimpse. Draco is that good.)

“No…” Draco answers slowly, processing his thought.

“What about that Eggplant Emoji muggle?”

“Merlin’s sake, Potter. That was a text from months ago.” Draco rolls his eyes.

“Good.” Potter nods. “Good.”

“What were we talking about before? Right, work. Case. Potion.” Draco gets gloomy a little when his mind returns to this annoying task (but it actually got less annoying the moment he realised who he gets to work with.)

“Right. I may need more pieces of evidence for the case, and if I find something new—”

“Like I said, email me or text me.”

“Do I need to include emoji in my message?” Potter grins jokingly.

“If you want,” Draco answers with a challenging smile. Potter’s dark skin flushed a little. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but then he closes it again.

“Well, if it’s not urgent then you can tell me when you come to get a better cure for the victims in three days.”

“Alright. Cheers.”

“We can do it over lunch. So I can introduce you to the street here. I’m sure you’ll like Dalston.”

“Fantastic. I’ve never refused when it comes to food.” Potter grins. “That settles it then. See you in three days. Cheers.”

“I’ll text you the restaurant’s name.”

“Brilliant. See you.”

Potter stands up from the chair. He walks to his coat hanging by the door and puts it on. The sound of the doorbell chiming rings around the office when the auror opens the door.

Apart from that messy dark hair, Draco notices Potter still has awkward habits he did in Hogwarts, like the way he walks, or the expression he made when he’s embarrassed.

Before the door closes, Draco shouts at the top of his lungs, “It’s a date, Potter!”

Potter splutters, face blushing. However, the auror nods enthusiastically, agreeing. He waves awkwardly like he doesn’t know what to do with his hand then quickly leaves.

Draco Malfoy smirks. He stands up and looks at the back of the auror who’s vanishing in thin air a second later.

‘It’s your choice to decide to close the door or open it once more.’

Draco made his choice. It’s depended on Potter now whether he will enter Draco’s open door or not.

Draco hopes he will.

Spoiler Alert: Yes, Harry will definitely enter the door. No hesitation.

And it doesn’t’ have anything to do with Luna’s prediction.

#sbdrarryfic #drarry #drarry fic #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #my fic #spacebartenderfic

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mxtcha-tea · 4 years ago

Text

[g ｕｉｄｅｌｉｎｅｓ　運ダゴ]

✕ PLEASE READ ALL OF THE RULES BEFORE REQUESTING OR SO ON. THIS IS TO AVOID PROBLEMS AND TO RUN THE BLOG SMOOTHLY. thank you :) ✕

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✎but if my mind can't process more than a few scenarios for the request, it will be short.

✎i've decided to make this blog mostly self indulgent because i don't work well under stress, hope you understand :).

✎HOWEVER, as much as i would love to hear your requests, there's a limit on how many you can request so first come first serve.

—if you want to request something, make it ~unique~

✎i've seen a lot of writings that had already been writen over and over again, and i thought, "why not try something new?"

✎don't worry, i still take the normal requests but as i said just now, it'll be short.

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✎please just don't, you'll prolly get no benefit from it.

✎this includes either plagiarize, translate or repost in other platforms.

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✎if some of it are requested, i'll write who requested it (whether it's off or on anon).

—please specify the request

✎includes things such as gender, format, or others

—what do i write?

✎crack (obviously my favourite)

✎fluff

✎angst

✎horrors/dark fic (but without the other dark stuffs, will list down below)

✎hurt/comfort

✎anything that's bearable to me

—what do i don't write?

✎r*cist/p*do/inc*st/sexist contents

✎shaming in every way possible (race, religion, skin, body figure, disability, etc)

✎NSFW (only a few suggestive contents but other than just that is a no-no)

✎duncons/noncons/yandere themed

✎alpha/omega/beta things (it always been used in smuts right? even tho i don't specifically write smut, you prolly can use it for non-sexual subjects but i still don't understand it fully)

✎characters x characters (only on ao3) (watch me feel soft because of bokuaka aye—)

✎anything that i'm not comfortable writing

—who/what do i write for?

haikyuu

✎everyone lolol

jujutsu kaisen

✎itadori, sukuna, megumi, nobara, inumaki, gojo, nanamin, junpei, will add more...(i'm late to caught to the anime :'D, maybe i'll continue by the manga)

danganronpa (dr1 only) (yes, haven't finished dr2 and i can't find dr3 :'))

✎everyone except monokuma (if you like monokuma then please go see a therapist)

More to be added soon!

[r ｅｑｕｅｓｔｉｎｇ　日奥ト]

—headcanons

✎honestly no limit but if i get so self indulgent in it, i might make it into 2 separate posts or something. (limit : no limit)

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✎it can be scenarios about a few characters, teams or literally anyone. (limit : 5)

—drabbles

✎kinda short. prolly will only be the title, pairing and the drabble itself. (limit : 1 only)

—timestamps

✎the time and short story. that's all. (limit : 1 only, i think)

—songfic

✎won't post this type often. the title of the song as the title of the fic, some info about the fic and then the writings. (limit : 1 only)

—fic

✎the same kind like the song fic BUT without songs as titles and gonna add some panels *wink* *wonk*. (limit : 1 only)

—SMAU/Texts

✎title, pairings, maybe some warnings, and boom, dumb and unfunny texts B). (no limits)

[ f ｏｒｍａｔｓ　旺引や]

—not a lot for this one but no, i don't take request

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[ d ｒａｗｉｎｇｓ　鋭ィニ]

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✎"but what if they attack you through dm's?"

✎well, they have to deal with the block button of course.

[ i ｎｂｏｘ　因岡ゴ]

#mxtcha-tea mains

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forkanna · 6 years ago

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[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

The next day, between second and third period, Anna managed to find Elsa by the water fountain and pulled her off to one side. She just had to know what she thought of their little 'blind date' the evening before.

It was slightly less favourable than Anna had hoped for.

"It was a date?" Elsa hissed, looking around to make sure they were truly alone. "Tori, you already know…" The way she trailed off, there was no need to specify what she meant. It took Anna a moment to respond.

"Oh, well. You know. Hanging. Where- where I come from 'date' doesn't necessarily mean romantic…" She almost winced at how terrible the lie was; Elsa's eyes narrowed, scrutinising her, but she didn't remark on it. Slowly, her anger dissipated.

"Look, Kristoff is very nice, and I really appreciate the gift he brought." Here, she gave Anna a meaningful look, which Anna stoically ignored. "I'll be honest, I wasn't really expecting anything like, mega interesting. He's kind of a dweeb." She gave a smile, trying to take the sting out of her words. Perhaps it had something to do with the revelation the previous night, the fact that Anna was still on the slow march to fading away, just like her brother, but she couldn't see the funny side.

"Elsa… I'm sorry to tell you this, but you fangirled with him for like an hour about sci-fi fanfiction. If he's a dweeb, what does that make you?"

"Fan- whatever. Tori, I'm already called names, and I hate it. Do you know how much worse it'll be if I'm seen hanging around him too much?" Her eyes were wide, and Anna had been about to judge her… when she came to a sudden and unwelcome realisation that this was high school in the 80s. Appearances were everything. But despite that, she couldn't help the way her heart sunk. Sure, Kristoff wasn't perfect, but he was kind. A trait that seemed to be in especially short supply.

"Wow. I just- wow, Elsa." Shaking her head, she looked away. "I can't believe that you'd throw away a good friend just because some other people suck. Yeah, sure, you're called names. Names that, as far as any of the people here know, have zero truth. I thought you were better than them, but maybe you're not. It shouldn't even matter anyway!"

"Tori-" Elsa reached a hand out, an attempt at placating Anna, but she was too annoyed for it to have any effect.

"No!" she cried, jerking backwards further. "That- what you just said there, that's a terrible thing to say. I think Kristoff is a great guy – he was scared because he thought you were way out of his league. I think he was wrong. I think he's out of your league."

And with that, she turned around and stormed off, angry tears brimming. How could Elsa think that? How could she let peer pressure stop her from acknowledging another human being?! Before she could get too far, she felt a hand tap her on the shoulder. Turning around, she tried to hide how upset she was, half-expecting it to be Elsa. But it wasn't.

"Kristoff?"

"Hi." It was a simple greeting, and he said it with a simple smile. She was also happy to see that he was wearing the shirt with the palm tree, and he looked freshly scrubbed, hair slicked back again. It was less shiny than she'd come to expect, and it really did wonders for his appearance.

"O-oh. Hey."

"Just wanted to thank you for yesterday… you know, introducing us. I didn't think… well, actually having a chance to talk to her, and it going that well! It was like some kind of weird fever dream." He gave her a look, and he could probably tell that she'd been upset about something, but he chose not to comment.

It gave her a chance to pull together a small smile, anyway. "Hey, no big." When he squinted, she added, "Deal. No big deal."

"Good. Um… so, did she say anything about me? Probably not."

"Now, now, don't go back down the negativity slide into the ballpit of sadness." Sighing, she glanced over in the direction she had left her mother-slash-friend. "Well… she did say that you're nice, and interesting." She had, technically, even if all of that was wrapped around some disappointing superficiality.

"No WAY." Sputtering with slight disbelief, he glanced back toward where Elsa was talking to her friends. Anna thought she looked a little less chipper than she had before they spoke, but she decided not to focus on that for now. "That's… wow, I can't thank you enough! Could never have done any of this without your help."

"You don't have to. I mean, paying me back that forty bucks would be great, but it's seriously no trouble."

Smiling, he hesitated, then offered his hand to shake. "Thanks, um… what was your name again?"

"Anna McF-" At the last second, she managed to cut herself off. She really needed to get a better jump on stuff like this! "Tori. Um… Tori Spelling."

What a dumb pseudonym to pick; it was the first surname that came to mind. Lucky for her, nobody would know who the hell that was for another five-plus years.

"Tori. Well, I gotta get to the library before class, so I'll… see you around?" Giving a small smile, he turned around, offering a wave over his shoulder.

Once she was alone, Elsa began to break off from her clique and head her way. Anna wanted to bolt, but she also didn't want to be petty; in the long run, this wasn't that big of a deal. Just disappointing. And Elsa was fully aware of that, it seemed. She approached slowly, a contrite look on her face. Good. Hopefully she knew why what she'd said had been so bad.

"Tori, can we talk, please?" Elsa asked. Anna looked at her for a moment. She really did look sorry, so letting out a sigh, she nodded.

"Sure. What's up?"

Glancing away, Elsa ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry. I know Kristoff is your friend and I shouldn't have put him down."

"No, you shouldn't have." Anna's words were sharp, and Elsa visibly winced. Grimacing to herself, Anna continued, "But thank you for apologising."

At last, Elsa smiled. The wounded-puppy look lessened, and her eye shone. A look came across her face, and she glanced away again, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "Did- did you mean what you said? That he thinks I'm out of his league?"

At that, Anna gave a small snort, anger dissipating. "Have you ever looked in the mirror? He's got eyes, you know." Elsa's cheeks filled with colour at the compliment, her mouth drawing into a small 'o'. "But I also meant what I said. If- if you hadn't come and apologised, if you hadn't realised how terrible a thing you said was… he would be out of your league. Because he's nice, and he deserves nice people."

Elsa nodded soberly. "I understand. Maybe I was wrong about him. He was polite and friendly yesterday, and he certainly looked good. Honestly, I thought he was kinda dweeby, but I guess I just…" she trailed off.

"Just what?" Anna wasn't going to let her get away with not talking – especially if she was going to say something nice about Kristoff.

"I guess I judged him before I knew him. Which… is what everyone does about me, so that's pretty unfair coming from me especially. Don't know why I did it."

"I think you should tell him that," Anna said. "You nerded out hardcore yesterday, and I mean, more friends is always great." Not to mention the fact that Elsa's friends didn't seem like the "BFF" kind of girls; despite Elsa being the leader of their little clique, she didn't seem particularly close with either of them.

For a moment, her mother simply nodded. Then she shook her head and smiled. "I 'nerded out hardcore,' huh? Geez, you have such a mondo bizarro way of talking sometimes."

"I know, I'm pretty extra."

"Extra what?"

"Extra weird," she sighed, knowing she had done it again and finding it hard to care.

"Oh." Clearing her throat, she then went on, "So listen… I'm kind of out of money, and I know this is a little early, but do you want to just grab a milkshake after school today? My treat, to make up for being a bitch just now."

Anna pondered that. The more chances she had to hang out with her parents, the more likely she would be to positively influence the situation. "Kristoff, too?"

"Kristoff, too," she relented. "And I promise I'll ask Jazz and Ariel not to give him such a hard time."

"Sweet. I mean, um, radical."

Impulsively, Elsa leaned in to give her a brief squeeze, then skipped away down the hall to class, already close to late. Anna tried not to think about how much that scent penetrated her every time they hugged. Tried to push it out of her mind and only worry about her future. What they were going to do if she somehow failed to get them to like each other.

"I really don't want to be in charge of all this," she muttered to herself as she wandered off to the bathroom to hide during first period. "Can I call in sick?"

Fortunately for her, the day did get better. She didn't see Hans at all, and for the second time in a row, no one seemed to realise that she didn't belong. She actually fell asleep in the loo, and was a little late to lunch. Not expecting anything, she got a nice surprise when Elsa and Kristoff were already siting at the same table. They weren't saying much – Kristoff probably too nervous, and Elsa, well… her reasons were anyone's guess, but Anna had a feeling it had to do with their conversation earlier. Her friends were also there; did she not want to engage as much so they wouldn't think she was a dweeb?

But still, she was trying. There was some idle chatter – mostly about classes and homework – but nothing of any substance. Well, that had to change.

Based on that, she actually took her time getting her food, hanging back and watching them. As Doc had mentioned, Kristoff needed to be the better option, and being more available was part of that, right? Elsa could get to know him better and see that they had things in common more if Anna weren't there to distract her.

But damn, do I wish I wasn't a distraction in the first place, she thought to herself as she finally did join them. Almost five minutes had been wasted as she let her food get cold, hanging back with her tray.

"Hey there, slowpoke," Elsa tittered.

"I'm more of a Slowbro," she joked – and almost facepalmed. "Not… that you'll have any idea what I mean. Anyway, how's everybody?"

"Gnarly," Ariel sighed, examining her cuticles and trying to push them back slightly with the tines of her fork. Anna winced; that seemed unwise, and painful.

"I'd be doing better if he would notice me," Jazz sighed as she looked over at another table, three away from theirs. A tall, dark-skinned boy was laughing and chatting with Hans and his crew; he didn't seem to be part of that particular clique, but they were clearly all on some sports team or other together.

"Maybe you're better off if he's friends with that meathead," Anna observed. But when Jazz frowned, she quickly added, "But what do I know? You aren't always the company you keep."

Ariel scoffed as she moved back to picking at her salad. "I agree with the new girl. Like, why hasn't he made a move on Jazz? She's cute, and has way more going for her than that big ox."

"Nah, Al's alright. Kind of cocky sometimes, but he's not like Tannen or those other guys." They all turned to Kristoff at once. He seemed not to realise for a second, and only after a moment did the three sets of eyes on him seem to make a difference. His head sank down between his shoulders, but Elsa nudged him with her elbow. "What?"

"Go on. What else do you know? Inside scoop from the boy's bathrooms?"

"O-oh, well, I don't really hear much," he said, trying and failing to get out of the situation. "Unless they don't know I'm there. But Al seems decent enough. He hasn't gotten to Tori's level of 'standing up for people'–" Here he shot Anna a smile and she forced one back. 'Don't remind Elsa that I exist,' she thought furiously, 'don't take the focus off yourself! "–but he doesn't jump in with Hans' bullying."

"And Hans lets him get away with that?" Elsa asked, curious. Kristoff shrugged. "I thought it was Tannen's Law around here."

"Al's the swiftest forward in the whole state," he explained – even if Jazz and Ariel only exchanged shrugs at that information. "And Hans is only as popular as he is because the team does so well. He wouldn't risk that by messing with Al too much."

Jazz sighed, still looking over there. "Pity this isn't a Sadie Hawkins," she said. "At this rate, he's never going to ask me…"

The entire table looked over to the other one, and sure enough, Al was watching Jazz. At least he looked interested. But then something clicked.

"Wait, there's a dance coming up?" Anna asked. Everyone turned to look back at her. She felt very silly.

"Geez, what school have you been hanging around, Tori?" Elsa asked, mouth curled in a smile. "This Saturday is the Enchantment Under the Sea dance. It's only, like, the biggest event of the year."

Anna wasn't quite sure that she believed that, but she let it go. "I mean, I knew there was a dance," she fumbled – and technically it was true. "I just- I didn't realise it was this weekend."

"Well, welcome to the Eighties," Ariel said with a little snort.

Anna barely heard her. The dance was this weekend. Kristoff had only a few more days to pluck up the courage to ask Elsa – Anna only had a few more days of meddling. Sure, she knew she was leaving soon – there was no getting around a one-off lightning strike – but she'd hoped for her parents to have more time together first. No wonder John was fading so fast; she was woefully behind schedule.

At least now she saw her plan of attack. If only she could figure out the details, all hope might not be lost.

~ o ~

That night, after a very casual "Sorry I have some chores to do" that excused her from joining them at the diner, Anna raced back to the house and enlisted Doc's help in rigging up a costume and filming something on her phone – eating through her precious battery power, which she had realised was going to run out a long time before she made it back to 2015 and could find a micro USB cable. For some reason, Doc didn't have a charger in the DeLorean. She'd be sure to yell at him about that… if she actually found him alive and well when she saw his future version again.

Then she snuck into Kristoff's house, grateful for the first time in forever that he insisted on pointing it out to his kids every time they were in the neighbourhood. It was easy to locate his room, and she gently placed a hastily-folded cardboard contraption over his sleeping head, essentially suspending the phone right in front of his eyes. One spilled glass of water later, he was awake and upright. All he could see was darkness… and the image of Doc in a strange costume.

"Greetings, Earthling! This is Hoban Washburne, from planet Naboo! You have a very special mission!"

Luckily, he did make it to the end of the mission – and the accompanying threat – before he passed out. Satisfied, Anna slipped the makeshift device off and crept back out his window and away into the night.

Now she was leaning on the brick wall outside Lou's, watching her dad jog up to her, all out of breath and frazzled. Lou's was a little more crowded now than it would have been twenty-four hours ago; students were crammed into the corner with the arcade machines, purely because the actual arcade was in the mall, which was a lot further away from the square. Plus, it was probably even busier than Lou's by that point.

The moment he noticed her, Kristoff made a beeline for her instead of the door. "Tori!" he hissed as soon as he got close. His eyes shifted left and right, and he got really close. Anna almost commented on his complete disregard for personal space, but decided against it. He looked pretty wigged out, and also… was that soap she could smell?

"Sup, dude?"

Blowing right past her greeting, he hissed, "Listen, you- we're friends, right?" Anna nodded. "Okay, so that means if I say something crazy, you won't laugh at me?" His big brown eyes were pleading, and he looked so confused. She hoped she didn't mess him up for life…

Once more, she nodded. "'Course I won't." Despite the assurance, it still took him a few moments to gather himself. He kept glancing around, and wasn't completely happy until he'd taken her arm and guided her further away from the general hub-bub of the café.

"Last night, I was sleeping, right? And then this cold feeling woke me up, a-and I couldn't see anything at all. Like there was a box on my head? And it sounds crazy, but in the box there was a tiny screen. Like, just the right size to fill my whole vision! And there was a dude on the screen who told me I had to invite Elsa to the dance!"

Anna had to bite back a smile; not because she wanted to laugh at him, but because she had been afraid that her plan wouldn't work, or that Kristoff would simply see through the ruse. She knew, of course, that technology of the future was different, but seeing how he reacted to it was interesting.

"Oh wow, that- that sounds pretty rad. Like there's someone watching over you. Like a guardian angel!"

But Kristoff was shaking his head, not looking nearly as happy as she felt he should be. "Tori, I- Why would he do that? How did he know? Sure, I really like her. And maybe we're friends now – at least she doesn't hate me. But if I ask her to this dance and she says no, I'll lose even that."

"Hey, no, you can't think that way. Don't be a nice guy."

"What? I shouldn't be nice?"

Crap – 'Nice Guy' didn't mean the same thing in 1985 that she meant it to. "I mean, DO be a nice guy, but… like…" Sighing, she forced herself to start over. "This is just one dance. And she's your friend! Start there. Don't buy into all that hype that if she turns you down, you're in the 'friendzone', that's not a real thing."

"I've never even heard of that thing," he mumbled, though he seemed to be too distracted by everything else she had said. "So you're saying… it doesn't matter if she says she doesn't want to go with me… it just means that we're still friends? And maybe she would wanna be more later, but don't push it?"

"Exactly. Maybe she will, maybe she won't. But like, being 'just friends' with a girl who likes to talk about science fiction is better than not talking to her at all, right? Girls are people, too."

That last phrase seemed to do it. He had already been listening intently, but that made sense to him. "You're right. We're all just carbon-based life forms."

"Well… maybe don't say that part to her," Anna muttered. "Not very romantic."

"Okay, okay. But what should I say, then? I… I have no idea how to approach a subject like this, I've never tried before!"

Anna knew what she would say. She's probably say something stupid like, "date me," and she knew that Elsa would maybe say yes because there was definitely interest from her already. But this wasn't about her. Scrunching up her nose, she contemplated for a moment.

"Just… keep it casual. Go up and just tell her how you feel. If you're not comfortable with the whole 'admit your undying love', then don't. But you care about her. And you wanna go to the dance with her. Don't you?"

Kristoff gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Of course I do. She's beautiful, and friendly, and smart, and I feel like I can actually talk to her. I know what everyone around school says about her, and I hate it because I know what they say about me, and it hurts."

"O-oh?"

"Yeah. Geez, why do all the good people get it the worst?"

Anna almost couldn't believe what she was hearing. Kristoff had never given any inclination that he knew much about the politics of the playground – aside from sneakily eavesdropping in the boy's locker room. "You don't… care? About what they say about her?"

Finally, his smile turned outward. It was no longer deprecating; no, now it was full of something else. "I mean… calling people names is cruel, especially ones like that. But if she was, so what? Like you said, we're all carbon-based li- I mean, people."

Anna didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. Suddenly she didn't feel so ashamed of having him as a father. "Kristoff," Anna said, turning her face up at him. "Go get her. Just be this you and I think you're gonna be okay."

Shaking out his limbs, and then slicking his hair back fresh again, he headed inside. Anna snuck in behind him, trying to be unobtrusive as possible as she sat at the bar and nodded for a "Pepsi Free," which seemed to be some weird 80s version of a Diet Pepsi that she'd never heard of in her entire life. She pulled a beanie hat out of her pocket and put it on so nobody would notice her red hair right away.

"Elsa?" Kristoff said as he made it to her table. It was just barely close enough that Anna could hear. "Heyyy… girl…"

Already, she wanted to facepalm. Elsa glanced at her friends, and then back at him. "Uh, hello, Kristoff. How's it hanging?"

"Um, pretty good, pretty good." He was nodding to himself. Anna could have groaned. "Listen… I wanted to… well, y'know…" He was choking. But Ariel coughing seemed to help him get restarted all on his own. "Just wanted to let you know that the past couple of days, hanging out? They've been great. Like, I don't know, I always had this feeling we could be friends if I got past my, um… dorkiness."

"Hey, it's okay," Elsa said in that soothing, motherly tone that made Anna want to sob huge tears of regret. If only she would use that in her own time period! "You know, like… shit happens. Right?"

Scratching the back of his head with a little self-conscious chuckle, he was the picture of an awkward teenage boy. Anna couldn't help smiling to herself. It was okay. Everything was okay. Her mother and father were teens and it was all going to be fine. "Right! Right, yeah, exactly. So anyway, I was wondering if maybe you-"

"HEY, MCFLY!"

Immediately, all the courage Kristoff had worked up dissipated. Anna turned her head, eyes squeezing shut. Of-fucking-course. The whole café went quiet, all eyes turning to the jerk in the jean jacket.

"I thought I told you to never come in here, McFly." Glancing over her shoulder, Anna followed Hans as he moved through the small shop, stepping menacingly towards Kristoff. The space seemed packed, and yet there was more than enough room for people to get out of Hans' way. "I guess you owe us. How much money you got-"

Hans never even got to finish his question. Just as he passed behind Anna's chair, she stuck her heel out. He never stood a chance.

However, given his size and stupidity, Anna hadn't expected him to recover so quickly, either. She'd hopped off her chair, hoping to make a quick escape, when he shot to his feet. She had stood in front of him before but- had he grown taller in the last day-or-so? That wasn't fair! Damn her parents and their short genes!

One of his big meathooks curled into a fist, and Anna decided she didn't want to find out whether or not Hans was okay hitting a woman. So she did the first thing she could think of. In hindsight, it was probably the silliest idea she had during this whole fucking adventure.

Pointing over his shoulder, she cried, "Ahh! What's that?" When he twisted his head to look, almost as if someone else were doing it, suddenly she was socking him straight in the jaw. He went down like an incredibly dense sack of potatoes.

Then she ran for the door. A couple of his goons made a move to catch her, but all she had to do was scream "AAAAHHH!" and they all backed up as if burned. Sometimes being a girl had fringe benefits.

Of course, she had barely made it outside when she heard them coming after her. Hans probably didn't care about hitting girls when no one was watching; he was just that kind of shitbag. So she kept running, toward the courthouse square and angling for a group of students who were all listening to thumping bass from the boombox that was hoisted onto one of their shoulders. It wasn't the music they were carrying that she was particularly interested in, though.

"Hey!" she panted. "Can… can I borrow one of your skateboards?"

"Girl, do you even know who we are?" one of them asked.

"You're the fucking King of Rock – I heard it from the radio just now, okay? But that asshole is gonna…" She couldn't even finish, just turned to glance at where Hans was looking around wildly for her. "Please?!"

"Well…" One of them had barely raised their skateboard before Anna was ripping it out of his hands. "HEY!"

"I'll bring it back!"

Then she was off like a shot. Maybe she wasn't good at very many other things, but this was her domain. It was certainly not Hans', and he knew it. They all clambered into his muscle car and began to give chase, probably breaking about fifty traffic laws in the process. But not only was Anna good at skateboarding, she also knew this town. Sure it had changed a little in the thirty-odd years, but she still knew which side streets went where, including which ones Hans would absolutely not be able to fit down in his souped-up overcompensation.

Unfortunately, so did he. He probably had lots of experience terrorising the neighborhood, which meant that every time Anna thought she'd given him the slip, he just ended up cutting her off again.

Goddammit. She could only hope that Kristoff had recovered his wits while she was keeping Hans occupied and gone on to ask Elsa out; that would at least make all this worthwhile.

Finally, she seemed to have lost him. It was a good ten minutes after she'd first burst through the café doors, and her sides were beginning to hurt from the exertion. Rolling towards the square, she checked behind her. No Hans. Bringing a hand up to wipe at her sweaty bangs, she let out a breath.

Of course, that was the moment that Hans' car burst from another street, almost sideswiping her.

Snatching the back bumper of a passing Jeep, she managed to be pulled down the street at speed, preventing Hans from running her over – probably only because he didn't want to get in trouble with the owner of the other vehicle. But he kept close behind, glaring, waiting for his opportunity. Alas for the bully, Anna saw her own before he did. At the end of the upcoming side street, she saw something that made her grin. All she had to do was keep going forward when the jeep inevitably turned…

So she did. She took off like a rocket, letting go at just the right moment so that she lost very little momentum as the car vanished from their lives, Hans gunning it to run her down.

And then she jumped backward, off the skateboard. If he'd been going any faster than 30mph, she probably would have been flattened, but she was scrawny and scrappy, and her reflexes were still pretty good. She managed to land ass-first on the hood of his convertible sports car, rolling over to grin and wave.

"You stupid SKANK!" he growled, teeth bared at her and looking more menacing than she'd ever seen. "I'll murder you for this!"

"C'mon, Hans!" she cried out, grinning. "You won't have time to murder me! You'll be too busy cleaning this car!"

She waited until he was blinking stupidly up at her before leaping to safety. She was just in time to roll through several bags of trash, coming to a stop fairly close to the skateboard she had borrowed. It wasn't a graceful, cute landing, and she would have the smell of old banana peels on her clothes for hours… but it was nothing compared to the fate that awaited her opponent.

Manure. Thick, rich, grass-fed cow patties, all piled into the back of a truck that unfortunately had an open back gate. Hans and his cronies collided with the open vehicle, launching tender nuggets all over their faces and heads and down into the seats and floorboards. Not to mention the crumpled hood of the car, smoke already beginning to rise from it.

Chuckling to herself, Anna picked herself up out of the trash. Looking around for the group of kids so she could return the skateboard, she became aware of the crowd that had gathered. They were all either looking at her, murmuring to each other, or all-out laughing at Hans' expense.

It didn't matter. Carrying the board, she managed to locate the kid she had mostly-stolen it from. "Hey, thanks man," she said. He took it, a dumbstruck look on his face.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked. Anna shrugged.

"7 Eleven," she said, as truthfully as she could. That parking lot was one of many places she had honed her boarding skills.

As she headed back toward Elsa and Kristoff, she couldn't help but take another look at Hans, spitting manure out of his mouth and gagging. It was a memory she was going to savour. When he was being an a-hole to her dad and saying lewd shit about her mom, she'd remember this.

"Oh my GOD, Tori, you're so… fucking… RAD!" Elsa managed to whisper when she arrived, hands over her mouth. She noticed Kristoff looking a little like a third wheel, hanging around, but she didn't have much time to feel bad about it because blonde hair was suddenly filling her vision as arms came to wrap around her, Elsa hopping up and down on the balls of her feet.

"Hey, hey!" she laughed, hesitantly patting her on the back. But she had to get out of there. If she kept hanging around, she knew that Kristoff would never get a chance to finish his proposal that they attend the dance together. "No biggie. I just didn't want him to beat me up. Um… a-anyway, I gotta go, see ya!"

She knew it was a less-than-elegant exit, but maybe this could be one of those "make yourself less appealing" moments Doc had told her about. Soon enough, she was running through the streets, wishing she still had the skateboard.

To Be Continued…

#Fractal The Future #fruipit #forkanna writes #Back to the Future #elsanna fanfiction #elsanna #forkanna the writer

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