#this was exactly that i needed especially with my recent dry patch in writing

[emeraldtawny]

Wow I have to say that I adore you and your blog as always... It's been solid months but to find that you're still here and writing for otome games honestly makes me very happy. also it's hilarious to find that our taste in faves still seem to be really similar lmao. I love your thoughts on Dazai!!! Because that's honestly something I've been thinking about myself since the moment I started playing Ikevamp hahaha. I love how interested and knowledgable you are concerning the IRL people (1/?)

Jsjsxjksksbdms AAAAAA ANON!!! It’s always so encouraging when my dumb ramblings get a response like this. I have the biggest smile on my face right now, thank you so much hdbdkndjs. And may I say...TASTE ANON, TASTE!! Excellent choice in 2D men, she says with incredible bias bdjdndk. You are very right in your assumption of Satan being my fave OM boi...I love him ;w;

Aaaaa idk what to say to this other than jdjdkxhjdnfkejxkdnckdmjs????? I just really like finding parallels between IRL and fiction when a character is based off of a person who actually existed in our world. And the fact that at least one other person likes listening to me yelling about usually very depressing IRL lives just because I’m curious of how accurate the company wrote their fictional counterpart is...very humbling. Gives me them warm fuzzies uwu.

And anon, I feel you on the whole “leaving him until last” part. Gotta keep ramping up that angst every time and make us cry ;w; makes me super nervous for Sebas’ eventual route, like how on earth are they gonna make him sad? They have complete free reign to destroy us jfndjdnkd. And yes to the recommend route order type deal. That’s why I like games like these that slowly open up routes and make it very distinguishable of the order they want you to play it in. But with Dazai especially, all we’ve gotten so far is crumbs, and we’ll continue to only get tiny morsels until a bit later. Was it on purpose for his elusive character? Did Cybird genuinely forget he existed until they dropped his route? Who knows hfnkdjdkdkd.

I honestly have no idea of the “rival” for Dazai. Since there’s now new characters (Vlad, Charles Henri Sanson and Johann Georg Faust), it could be one of them (many MANY hints pointing to Charles on this front). I don’t want to hold out hope for any rival in particular otherwise I’ll get too sweeped up into it, but GOD if it was Sakunosuke or ofc Chuuya for those who knew BSD before IkeVamp lmao. That being said, I won’t know until I play his route...and I don’t plan on playing it until English release. so imma sit here simmering on my theories and my angst for like 2 years hdndkdkd.

I think I’ve rambled enough now. Thank you for enabling me to scream into the void, lovely anon. Thank you for your continued support, silent or otherwise (though I love being screamed at, I must admit hfjdndkdk). Hope you have a lovely day~

[theoneeyedwriter]

writing characters with one eye

i can pretty much guarantee that ↑that↑ is not a heading you see everyday.

now i will not be giving advice on writing cyclopses, (though it may be sort of the same thing) i still hope this will be helpful for some people out there that are looking to provide a more diverse cast to their wip!

i have never ever ever read a book, watch a show movie etc etc that involves a character with one eye. (aside from those badass characters who wear eye patches bc they lost sight in one eye in some badass way)

for context: i am one of many people who was born with microphtalmia, an eye disease that results in one or both eyes develope smaller than normal at birth. i myself was born with a smaller left eye, which resulted in my left eye being removed exactly twenty days after birth.

microphthalmia (along with many other eye diseases) typically leads to being half or fully blind. i lucked out and only lost my left eye which i am so so thankful for.

i would really really love to see more representation for my community in literature, especially so people would come to see that being half blind isn’t as unusual and weird as people make it out to be.

without further ado, i present to you, a list of information, facts, and first hand experiences from yours truly!

i’ve had prosthetic eyes made to fit my eye socket for about fifteen years (i’m 16 lol) (the first 6ish months after the surgery i never had a prosthetic)

in my life i’ve had four different prosthetic eyes made because just like other people, my eye socket grew alongside the rest of me, meaning the prosthetic needed to be made bigger

i’ve had my current prosthetic for four years now, the past ones lasted about 2-3 years at a time. this one will probably last me through the rest of my life unless i need/want a new one

as opposed to most media/assumptions, my prosthetic (along with most prosthetics) is PLASTIC (people always think it’s glass) and only half a circle!!

i’ve had three surgeries related to my eye

i do not have depth perception which makes doing certain things very difficult (estimating distance, how close/far i am from something etc)

driving is not affected too much, i just have to turn my head more than other people. i believe being blind in the right eye might be more difficult, but i couldn’t say

doing my make up is kinda easy, except for eyeliner is a pain in the ASS since most people close their eye to do it on their upper lid, but clearly i can’t close my right eye whilst doing it lol

my family as well as my friends and even myself often forget i have a prosthetic, which sometimes results in awkward/funny situations

i hate walking with people on my right bc i can’t tell where they are unless i’m constantly looking down at my/their feet

i sucked at basketball bc i had such a disadvantage (no depth perception, i could only see half the court, i was constantly turning my head) but professional swimming is much easier for me since it’s not a contact sport and doesn’t really require for me to be paying attention to a million things at once

i rarely have to take my prosthetic out, and if i do, it’s either to clean it, (we do get eye crusties on our prosthetics just like other people do when they have pink eye or sever allergies) it’s bothering me/really dry, or i want to take it out to show/scare people lol

a lot of people don’t realize when i first meet them that it’s fake bc my recent prosthetic is amazing accurate to my real eye. others notice and assume i have a lazy eye since it doesn’t move

for some reason people think i can’t cry out of my left (prosthetic) eye??? i still have a tear duct??? i actually think more tears come out of my left tear duct than my right lol

i am extremely self conscious about it, but i know there are other one-eyed beauties out there who aren’t which is amazing!! i try to live vicariously through them lol

i make sooo many jokes about my eye lol, and i’m usually ok w other people making jokes as long as they aren’t like overly rude/offensive, then i’ll feel a lil bad about my self

people never really made fun of it, but kids in middle school likes to wave things in front of my left eye/on my left side that i couldn’t see which got really annoying after a while

getting custom designed prosthetics are available, but they’re really expensive (so are normal lol) they costs thousands of dollars, just like other prosthetics do

i run into things that are on my left side ALL THE TIME it’s actually kinda funny lolol

i try to hide my left eye/turn more to my left side in photos bc my eyes aren’t always looking in the same direction, which really gets to me

i wear glasses for both protection and bc my right eye is -1.75 lmao but i did used to wear non-prescription glasses purely for safety

i do have contacts to wear during the summer, swim meets etc, for when i don’t want/can’t wear my glasses but need to see. bc of this, i have a second pair of glasses that have no prescription

if doctors/scientists managed to figure out a way to fix microphthalmia (a birth defect), or do a sort of eye transplant, i would not be able to have that done to me because all parts of my left eye have been removed from my body

microphthalmia is NOT the only disease that results in the haver losing sight in one or both eyes!! there are many others, but it is not my place to share any experiences for something i have not experienced!!!

for once i just want to see a clumsy character who has one eye that WASNT a result of some tragic event.

so please please please consider including a character with one working eye in your wip. it would mean the world to myself and all the other members of the community (there’s a lot of us, trust me) plus, i wouldn’t mind starting an acting debut playing a half-blind female protagonist, that would be so dope.

that’s about all i can think of for now! please send an ask or reply to this post if you have any questions, i’m willing to answer any!!! and if you happen to be a member of the one eye club, please add to this post!! that would mean the world to me:)

[emelywrites]

Hey love I hope you are safe💞 I am in love with platonic Sirius Black x (lesbian) reader fan fics where Sirius helps reader to get the girl they are in love with and him being the best boy friend every lesbian wants to stand up for them when ppl talks shit. I don't know if I helped you or you find this lame. Anyway I love your writing and I hope you have a beautiful day❤🧡💛💚💙💜

Hi! Thanks so much. I hope I can do your request justice, because this is so sweet. When I came out as bi, my parents started telling me that it’s just a phase and I just needed to find the right guy. I just want everyone to know that this is a safe space for everyone and I hope that I didn’t completely misrepresent you in this story, so please enjoy! 🏳️‍🌈

Warnings: Language, bad parents, insecurities, angst, slight heteronormative behavior

Best Friends

Sirius and you had known each other since birth. You were both from prestigious pureblood families and your mothers were obsessed with the idea that you would get married one day and have all these perfect pureblood babies. Just before the beginning of your first year you started spending less time with your family, which, consequently, led to you spending less time with the Black-family and therefore Sirius as well. Truth was, you didn’t quite like the concepts of world that you grew up with and even though Sirius was your best friend you were distancing yourself from him, in fear that he was fully indulged in his family’s ideals. 

When you entered the Great Hall, you did so on your own. You saw Sirius but he didn’t see you because he had found new friends on the train. And frankly, it had been you who had ignored him for months before. Sirius’ name was called before yours and you wouldn’t look up at him until you heard the hat sorting him into „GRYFFINDOR“. You looked at him and saw the grin spreading on his face. Sirius, your best friend whom you had been to scared to tell your very anti-Slytherin thoughts, was a Gryffindor. Not a Slytherin. You had heard the gasps from everyone in the hall, including your own, when Sirius Black was sorted into bloodtraitor-Gryffindor-House. 

Then it was finally your turn (you weren’t awaiting it, whatever was going to happen, you weren’t going to be comfortable). You slowly ascended the stairs, coming to a stop in front of Professor McGonagall who gave you a sympathetic smile when she saw your nervousness. You felt small ease wash over you when she did. The hat was placed on your head when you sat down.

„Y/N Y/L/N, you’re not much of a Slytherin, dear. Your family’s gonna be pissed but you’re without a doubt a GRYFFINDOR!“

Your eyes widened in shock as another round of gasps went through the hall. But when you looked to the Gryffindor table, seeing Sirius cheering the loudest of them all, overpowering the shock, a wide smile spread on your face and you immediately went to him and hugged him. Sirius introduced you to his friends and again, you were as inseparable as ever. Even more so, because now, the cards were on the table. You were on the same page against pureblood-mania and stood through all the bullying and disgracing from your families together.

After you had just gotten close to Sirius again you fell apart a bit again during fifth year. Sirius had become a proper ladies-man. Being one of the oldest boys in the year, and, even you couldn’t deny it, quite a handsome one as well, he had all of the girls running after him. All except you. You were more into the girls that were running after your best friend. But of course you couldn’t tell anyone, especially Sirius, because he didn’t miss a chance to flirt with them.

„Mate“, James said to Sirius one evening in the common room when you weren’t there, „(Y/N)’s like really into you.“

Sirius laughed. „I beg your pardon? (Y/N) can’t be into me.“

„Why not?“, Peter chimed in, „She’s been avoiding you since you’ve been getting all the girls.“

„Exactly. She’s jealous“, James agreed.

„Pretty sure that’s not it“, Remus didn’t even look up from his book to throw in his thought.

„Yeah, (Y/N) and I are like best friends, all friendships have dry patches that doesn’t mean she’s into me“, Sirius thought out loud, „Besides, us being a couple would probably make our parents happy, cause pureblood babies, you know? That wouldn’t fit with the vibe.“

James and Peter looked at him with an „If you say so“-look that prompted Sirius to investigate. One Hogsmeade weekend he took you to the Three Broomsticks. You sat drinking your butterbeers as you were explaining the recent Charms-task to him. You did so rather unenthusiastically which made Sirius believe his friends may have been right. You always used to be excited to be going over Charms-work, especially because you were happy it meant he studied for once.

„(Y/N)“, you looked up at him when he called your name, „Do you have a crush on me?“

Your eyes widened in shock and as they did, his mimicked that. Oh god, he was right. Then you started laughing.

„Merlin, no. No offense, you’re not really my type“, you said through laughter.

„Oh, thank Merlin! That could have ruined our friendship“, he laughed along.

When your laughter died down you spoke up again. „Sorry, I’ve been distanced. I assume this was James’ idea?“, Sirius nodded, „We both know he’s not really good at reading girls. Exhibit A“, you pointed at the corner of the room, where Lily Evans was sitting as James was talking to her, not noticing her obvious disinterest.

Sirius laughed shortly before he answered. „But then, why have you been distanced?“

„I was jealous. All those girls running after you. Some of them, like, super hot and intelligent, dumbing themselves down to appeal to you. And last week you- Last week you were flirting with Maya.“

Sirius threw you a confused glance. He didn’t quite keep up with all the girls he flirted with. There were quite a few. You rolled your eyes.

„She’s a Ravenclaw. We have potions and transfiguration with them. You know, the only two classes where you don’t have all my attention? We’ve been spending a lot of time together, studying and talking and all. I’m-,“ you hesitated, „I have a crush on her.“

Sirius’ eyes widened in realization and when he didn’t answer for about two minutes, tears started collecting in your eyes and you started gathering your things.

„I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have unloaded this on you, just don’t tell-,“

„No, wait“, he caught your wrist and stood up, then he gathered you into a hug, „I’m so happy for you. I mean, proud, I mean, I’m overcome with emotion. Fucking hell, that girl wasn’t into me at all. I’ll gladly be your wingman.“

He grinned at you and you started smiling, too, your tears now flowing out of joy. „Are you serious?“

„Have been, all my life, love. Now let’s get you a date“, he put money on the table before he pulled you out of the Three Broomsticks.

Over the next few weeks Sirius did his best to find out whether you had a chance with Maya and once he was completely sure about it he pushed you into asking her out. Literally. Before Transfiguration class you both spotted her in her usual seat. When she saw you she smiled and waved. You were quite nervous to say the least. Sirius sensed that and took your shoulders from behind, pushing you to sit next to her.

„Maya, (Y/N); (Y/N), Maya, I see you’ve met. You two are, like, really into each other. Sorry for assuming you’re straight, Maya. Accept my best friend as an apology, treat her well“, Sirius patted both your shoulders, before heading off towards the other marauders.

„They grow up so fast“, he sighed, hand over his heart, looking at you proudly.

„So, she wasn’t into you?“, Peter asked.

„Told you so“, Remus answered, before Sirius could.

The word of you and Maya dating spread quickly, with same-sex-couples being rare, even in Hogwarts, and Sirius pointing at you both whenever you did something couple-y, smiling like a proud dad. So with everyone at school knowing it wasn’t long until the word spread to your parents. So one day you received a howler. It immediately sprung open.

„(Y/N) (Y/L/N), we won’t even dare call you that anymore. You are a disgrace, and here we were, thinking you couldn’t get any worse“, your mother’s voice yelled at you, „Get over that phase of yours and then maybe we’ll allow you back into the house“, the letter went up into flames as you stared into space where it had just been floating before you.

„Right so! She deserves much better than being a (Y/L/N). Who’d wanna be one of them? How dare they call you that?“, Sirius immediately spoke up, „Remus, give me parchment and a quill!“

„Sirius, you- you really shouldn’t. It’s just gonna get worse. I’ll just get right back into the closet for the rest of their lives“, you said quietly.

But Sirius wouldn’t have any of it. He wrote a long letter to your parents that you didn’t catch a glimpse of and then you didn’t see him for two days. When you did finally see him he had a smile on his face.

„You and I are moving in“, he said proudly.

„Pardon?“, you asked, looking up from your notes.

„I had some long conversations with Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore and they agree that our homes aren’t safe any longer. The day I let you get back in the closet is the day Merlin shaves, (Y/N). You should be allowed to be yourself, wherever that may be. That’s mostly gonna be Hogwarts for now, but I’ll be damned if you can’t be yourself after graduation. So, if your parents won’t accept you for who you are, screw them. They’d have to see you and Maya. I mean, relationship goals…“

As Sirius went on yet another monologue of naming all the things wonderful about you and your girlfriend, tears started stinging in your eyes. Sirius really was the best friend you could have asked for.

[autumnslance]

Tell me about Snowstorm!

WIP Ask Game:  Post the names of files in your WIP folder, regardless of how  non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title  that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell  them something about it! and then tag as many people as you like.

This is one I think I just need to admit where it ends, much as I like the beginning of the next morning (detailed in the excerpt below). That, or I need to find the point in the next morning. Perhaps it’s meant to be a 2 part story? Not sure.I wanted to get some explanations and arguments in here but that’s hard to write and dunno if it’s needed.

It also follows through on the idea of Thancred being a bit touch-starved, especially early in the HW patches before Antitower and the kick in the face he got there. In this case, it’s while he and Aeryn are still entirely platonic friends, though twinges of Feelings begin to get noticed around this time--and initially fought against, due to that “but we’re friends and colleagues” issue further complicated by the aforementioned kick in the face.

It’s a spiritual successor to “Sandstorm” which is about them getting stuck on the way to their first mission in Thanalan versus Ifrit together. "Snowstorm” is their first duo mission since Thancred’s rejoined the team in Coerthas and highlights some of the changes in each other separately and as a team, or is meant to anyway; it’s still a WIP for a reason!

Excerpt Below:

--

Morning came, though it was hard to tell. The wind still blew and the high windows were only a little lighter. Thancred blinked and looked around, momentarily confused as to where he was and who was draped over him.

Ah, right; the storm, the abandoned farmhouse, and his rather embarrassing nocturnal episode leading to being cradled like a babe. Speaking of.

At some point in the night positions had switched; he was on his back now, Aeryn using him as a pillow, arms and legs wrapped around him for warmth, her fine black hair in his face. Not the most unpleasant way to wake up, he had to admit.

Although he was uncomfortably aware that he just woken, he was only in his smalls from the waist down, and he knew exactly where her thigh was. She was still sound asleep, too. Godsdammit.

Also it was going to be cold as the Hell of Ice when they did finally move out of the little nest of blankets. So may as well stay put a little while longer and not at all examine any other reason why that seemed like a nice idea.

Thancred shut the mental door firmly there. Aeryn was a friend and colleague, and they’d both been through too much hell in recent moons. His time of isolation had affected his mind and physical reactions when he had been literally freezing and she had only done what was necessary to keep him in good health. Had their positions been reversed, he’d have done the same with no thought of anything but her safety.

Well, he may still have made a few jokes, just to make her scoff and smile and snark back the way she often did when he teased. He had truly missed that.

Aeryn stirred; not quite awake yet, but getting there, the warm weight of her against his side simply comfortable.

Thancred frowned and thought for a moment. How long had it been since he had touched, and been touched, by another person so intimately? Moons, certainly, even counting his brief tryst with Hilda on arriving in Ishgard. That had been...different, in every way, than this; more desperation than anything, sating an immediate need for skin-to-skin contact and even brief company that wasn’t insectoid.

All right then; how long since he had experienced an innocently friendly, intimate touch with no expectation of sexual reciprocation? He really couldn’t say. That seemed like it ought to be an issue, perhaps.

A sleepy, confused “mrf?” came from the direction of his chest.

Thancred looked down. “Good morning--I think.” The windows were still snow-covered.

Aeryn raised her head, blinking the sleep from her grey eyes. “Guess we didn’t freeze,” she mumbled, pushing away--then leaning back in, as that had let a rush of chilled air into their nest. “S’it me, or did it get colder?”

“Get the fire going again,” he said, prodding her. “Necessity, unfortunately, demands I rise.”

She made an adorably petulant whining noise even as she reluctantly got up, the air much colder once the blankets had fallen away and they were separated. 

“This is much too cold for my Thavnairian blood,” she sniffed as she poked at the banked fire, adding fuel and magic. She had been sure to turn completely away from him, he noted.

“You’re half-Coerthan,” Thancred replied as he got up, keeping a blanket around him as he checked his pants. They were cold and stiff, but dry; the rest could be fixed with wear. “Surely that affords you some acclimation.”

“I left when the place still had proper seasons,” she countered, reaching for their meager rations.

“Of course,” he replied dryly while tying his bandana back on; his left eye was already beginning to throb, especially when he happened to glance her way. “Be just a moment.” Pants back on--and another layer of socks added to his feet, since those had dried too--he left the main room for the even colder hall.

[metzili]

skincare reviews because my workplace closed and my classes went online

you already know. it’s been two days and i’ve been reduced to writing about skincare when this is a fan blog. take it or leave it this is the accumulation of skincare products (mainly korean products) i’ve tried out for about three years. I don’t do the 10-step routine, because I like having one or two products with active ingredients that work their magic so I can tell what product works or not. I feel like if I did multiple steps, all the products would cancel each other out and I’d never be able to pinpoint what worked. My skin is normal/dry, with some patches of eczema during the colder months. I had a lot of acne my first two years of high school (2015-2017), so I mainly focus on fighting that discoloration and also hydration. This is in no particular order, by the way. 

Acwell’s Licorice pH Balancing Cleansing Toner ($18)      Really love this! I’ve repurchased maybe three times already? Only toner I’ve used that actually helps to lighten discoloration. 10/10

Banila Co’s Clean It Zero Cleansing Balm, Original ($19)      Very lovely cleansing balm; does it’s job at removing makeup and leaves skin hydrated after rinsing. Haven’t tried any other cleansing balms, so I can’t really compare. I think I do remember it leaving the tiniest bit of residue, but I always follow up with a water-based cleanser, so it’s not a big deal for me.  9/10

Some by Mi’s AHA-BHA-PHA 30Days Miracle Toner ($16)      Pretty nice. Did it’s job, but I don’t see the whole fuss about it. With the amount of AHA and BHAs inside, as well as the tea tree water and papaya extracts, it almost crosses into the realm of being a chemical exfoliant. Probably better for those leaning oily. Still good, especially for the price. 8/10

Versed’s the Shortcut Overnight Facial Peel ($20)      Even though this is a Target brand, it’s priced a little higher than the previous items, which I find a little funny. But I don’t mind it at all! A very lovely facial peel, leaves my skin nice and soft in the morning. There’s a mix of lactic and glycolic acid that act as the exfoliants. I prefer chemical exfoliants to physical ones because my skin gets sensitive when it’s really dry. Good to try out! 9/10

COSRX’s Advanced Snail 96 Mucin Power Essence ($21)      I. Love. This. Product. I know it’s a little offputting, for the product to be a whopping 96% snail mucin, but its specially formulated for the use on skin. It’s intensely hydrating, but it sinks into the skin super quickly. (I used this in my morning routine before makeup) Really helps with discoloration, too! And it lasts SO LONG. I think I had the same bottle for six months, and I was using this shit everyday. I think it’s really worth the try. 10/10

Enature’s Birch Juice Hydro Essence Skin ($39)     This is up there in price, but I managed to get this on sale for $16, so I’ve decided to try it out. I’ve only used it once, but found that I really liked it. Very hydrating, sinks into skin very quickly, and a nice, light scent! I think I’m going to really like this one. The problem is the future divot in my wallet when I buy this off sale....9/10

Klairs’s Freshly Juiced Vitamin C Drop ($23)      After hearing everyone’s praises on this, I caved. It’s very nice; almost the consistency of a dry oil? Sinks in quickly. I’ve used this on and off since November (so my skin couldn’t get too used to it) and my discoloration has brightened considerably. Enough that I’ve been going to class and work without makeup pretty often in the past two months. It takes some time, but the results pay off. 9/10

Fourth Ray Beauty’s Remedy 10% Niacinamide Serum ($16)      I’ve been buying from Colourpop for over four years now, so I felt the need to try out their new skincare brand. Niacinamide is a miracle ingredient, working to clear acne, lighten discoloration and so much more. I’ve been using this as my only serum in the mornings since it’s such a stable ingredient and not sensitive to sunlight. My skin definitely looks brighter, but this formula...it leaves my skin feeling sort of tight and tacky. I’m not in love with it, but I’ll finish it out. 6/10 Fourth Ray Beauty’s AM To The PM Gel Cleanser ($12)      I don’t like this cleanser. It does its job, yes, but my face feels really dry after rinsing. I thought it was just my initial reaction to it, but halfway down the bottle my skin still reacts the same. Only keeping it to use as my backup cleanser if the one I’m currently using runs out. 3/10

Klaris’s Rich Moist Soothing Cream ($23)      !!!!!!!! I love this! A thicker moisturizer perfect for the colder months. Doesn’t leave my face feeling oddly tight afterwards like some moisturizers do. Not tight as in its not moisturizing, but almost like there’s a super thin cast? Anyway, it doesn’t have that. I’ve repurchased twice already. 10/10

Kiehls’s Ultra Facial Cream ($32)      I also really love this moisturizer. It’s what I was using before I found the Klairs one. A little more lightweight that Klairs, but still very moisturizing. More suited for the warmer months. Pretty sure I bought this at least three times. No weird tight cast after applying! 10/10

Simple Kind to Skin’s Replenishing Rich Moisturizer ($9)      I....don’t like this. Moisturizing enough, but it leaves that tight, cast-like feeling after applying. Was using it as a backup moisturizer when I finished the Kiehls one and hadn’t bought the Klairs yet. 4/10

CeraVe’s Moisturizing Cream ($15)      Yes, the cream that comes in the tub, not the lotion that comes in the bottle. I recently ran out of the Klairs and had to find something quick. Surprisingly enough, this feels almost exactly like the Klairs, if just a little thicker. It leaves the tiniest bit of a cast, but that feeling’s gone in less than an hour, which can’t be said for the previous moisturizers. The thing is, when I apply this at night and wake up the next day....my skin feels so supple. There’s no other word for it. I really love this. And for 16oz of product versus the Klairs’s 2oz, I think I’ve found a new favorite. 10/10 

Garnier’s SkinActive Micellar Cleansing Water All-In-1 ($7)      Does it’s job. 13.5 oz for the price is a pretty good steal. Removes my waterproof mascara really well. Nothing too special about it. 8/10

NeoGen’s Real Fresh Foam, Cranberry ($19)      I’ve only just bought this and have only used it once, so take with a grain of salt. My skin kind of badly reacted to it? The symptoms went away after 15 minutes or so, but I’m not casting it aside just yet. I’ve never used a foam cleanser before, so my skin could have reacted from not being used to such a medium. It still cleansed my skin well.The foam itself was very cloudy and soft and the fragrance was very light. It doesn’t scream cranberry, which is what I was worried about. EDIT: After washing a second time the next day, there was no stinging whatsoever. The reaction was probably my skin saying yo what the fuck is this texture? But the pH is 7, neutral, so its a little more alkaline than the skin’s natural pH, meaning there was a bit of tightness after patting my face dry. Would recommend for normal/oily skin. 7/10

Drunk Elephant’s C-Firma Day Serum ($80)      This is....the most expensive thing I’ve ever bought for my skin. I was pretty desperate to get rid of my discoloration about a year ago since it was only getting worse and I was hearing so much praise about this, so I caved. I still only used this at night, since it was still a vitamin C product, despite it saying it was safe to use in the daytime. I feel like it did help a lot with my skin; it delivered results a little quicker than the Klairs serum. Maybe after two months I saw the changes? But what put me off so much is the scent. It smelled so....herbal. And not in the good way. And it was super strong. And after applying, it felt like a heavy oil that wouldn’t sink in. It took forever. Even if it delivered results relatively quickly, I won’t be buying again just because of how strong that scent was. 5/10

Neutrogena’s Hydro Boost Water Gel Lotion SPF 50 ($13)      I’ve been using a BB cream with SPF 30 for years, so I never thought to have an additional SPF product. After hearing that SPF 30 is the minimal protection you should have, I thought to look for something better so I’d be more protected, because I wasn’t reapplying at all. (I wasn’t about to redo my makeup every two hours) This lotion doesn’t leave a white cast which, with my tan skin, was my main priority. It takes a while to sink in, which isn’t that great, since I apply my makeup after putting this on, so I have to wait a little longer. It smells...exactly what you think sunscreen smells. Pretty strongly, too. I’m currently looking for a better SPF 50 that isn’t like $50, but I’ll be using this in the meantime since it doesn’t make me look like a ghost. 7/10 BONUS! Lush Cosmetics Fresh Face Mask of Magnaminty ($15)      This is the only wash-off mask I actually like. (I usually stick to sheet masks) I swear it cleared all those bumps I used to have on my forehead. Like, actually. I love using this on the week I have my period, which is the only time I really get acne now. Really lovely results. 10/10 belif’s The True Tincture Chamomile Cleansing Stick ($30)      This is here because I just found out it’s discontinued.....a real shame. This also really helped those bumps on my forehead. I swear that this, and the mask, got rid of them in less than a month. I repurchased twice before trying out other things and forgetting about it. I really wish this wasn’t discontinued! And that’s it! All that I remember ever trying. Throw down a comment or DM me if you want a more detailed description for any product or if you actually want me to keep doing this for any future products. 

[unluckyxse7en-moving]

Can I ask a question? I have been wondering stuff about myself and in the panel where it says "before 'me' disappeared." it stuck out to me. I've never had a good grip on who I am and figured I had to build it. Idk hat that is. Nor do I expect you to answer that. My question is, could you explain it more?

Yes, absolutely, you’re totally welcome to ask! and idk how well I can explain it but I’ll do my best based on my current personal understanding and experience! obligatory disclaimer, many systems have unique experiences and it’s not always consistent or cut and dry from system to system, but if something about this does hit home I encourage you to look into researching it more as you feel comfortable! Also a heads up, I’m going to probably overexplain terms and concepts since I’m not sure what you do know, plus if someone else reading this isn’t familiar I figure that may help them too, so bear with me! ^^ (this got incredibly long and incredibly personal, I hope that’s ok! We’ve found hearing about personal experiences from others always helped give us a way to compare our experience better in ways that medical definitions don’t help with, so we got detailed in hopes it’ll be helpful to someone. heads up, there’s some references to feelings of unreality.)

Gonna try to put this under a cut since it got so long, let’s hope tumblr cooperates!

So admittedly, I was intrigued when you sent this line in, because while I’ve reread this comic a couple times before posting it, I didn’t remember writing a line exactly like that. As it turns out, the writing was meant to say “when ‘He’ disappeared” but it’s really oddly unclear whether it’s an H or an M at first glance compared to the rest of the script? If I’m honest I actually prefer your interpretation better, especially because the ambiguity lends more to the comic’s meaning in retrospect. I’m not gonna say something like ‘oh one of my alters must’ve done that on purpose’ because back then our handwriting was just an inconsistent mess in general and the most involvement we could probably credit to the alters was just one person tried to write that H in their handwriting when someone else was supposed to be writing it. But I thought that was an interesting case of serendipity so I couldn’t help pointing it out lmao 

 That said, I think your reading actually makes just as much sense in the context of the comic, and is a phenomenon I think I can readily explain that I have had a little experience with. Currently, my system setup is a little bit like an archeological dig. The alters that have surfaced the most, who have been the ones in charge of actions/words/emotional responses/etc, aka ‘fronted’, are all the ones who have formed in more recent years. The ones from years past are further back, and harder to access because we’ve developed a protective setup where the newer alters act as barricades to keep the older ones from being more exposed to trauma, or anything else they can’t handle. At its core, that’s what the function of a system is - to develop other alters who can handle situations more vulnerable parts can’t - but not all systems are built with an onion-layer setup like mine either, so just keep that in mind.

That said, since I’m built with an onion-layer setup, that means most of my system experience is based upon those older alters being shielded and walled up. When you add enough layers, we can’t dig them out again and for us that’s where most of our ‘disappearance’ comes in that we know of.  There’s another phenomenon that could cause the ‘disappearance’ effect but we’ll touch on that in a moment. In our case, we just eventually feel so distanced from who “I” was supposed to be, whoever that is. Very few of the ones who have been out in recent months are from older times. We’ve had a small handful who are from our high school years (we’re 25 now), and maybe caught a glimpse of alters older than that once or twice. We very rarely remember much of the time from that far back, and what we do remember feels incredibly detached. Almost more like we saw it in a first person pov movie rather than actually been there. We’ve gone through name changes a couple times by now, and I highly suspect that those name changes are further reflective of our archeological layers and who we decided to try to model our collective behavior around, to try to seem like one whole person. 

“Erika” was a girl who behaved one way. “Erin” was someone who behaved another way. and “Cleo” has been our current blueprint for who we’re supposed to be on the outside when being incognito. And what’s interesting is that you mentioned feeling like you had to ‘build’ yourself, because while it’s not so precise or in our control, we’ve approached it much the same way. For each name change it was like different models. out with the old model and in with the new, now introducing Cleo v2.0, with these personality patches and old bugs fixed. Around the time we changed to Erin, we had firmly decided we wanted to put our ‘old self’ behind us and improve ourselves. We had come out of toxic experiences eyes open, and we were terrified of reflecting that internalized toxicity outward. So we took ourselves to the metaphorical workshop, and spent many many years scrutinizing who ‘Erika’ was under a microscope for our faults, our flaws, what made us work that way, so that we could iron out the kinks when introducing ‘Erin’. As we took ‘Erin’ for test runs in college, we would find different flaws and faults that needed fixing, so once we’d accumulated a comprehensive list of those we took Erin in for workshopping and shortly after we dropped out of college, out came Cleo. Our entire life experience from the outside has been a long-running fixer-upper project, and for a while we were proud of ourselves to see the long strides in improvements we’d made upon “myself”, for being so quick to see our flaws and find ways to manage them. 

But what was really happening under the hood was, we weren’t actually changing as an individual, cohesive person.  We were adapting and forming new alters, or at the very least reassigning them based on who handled what better - so if we had become sick of our short temper, we swapped that alter out so that what normally caused them to respond, would instead elicit someone less volatile and slower to anger. If one of us froze up at the sight of blood, they would be swapped out of the front for someone who had no problems with it. This is why we ended up onion-layering ultimately, to lower the risk of the other alters being in front at poorly timed moments.

So tl;dr for us, a lot of our ‘Disappearance’ of our selves was us trading them out or hiding them away, and most likely encouraging a state of alter dormancy - when alters become inactive for long periods of time. (for some of us we describe it like sleeping - I think it tires us out on a physical level if one alter is active too long, it probably works certain parts of the brain more depending on the alter, but that’s all speculation.)

Backtracking a little - there is another experience that would cause a more definite and permanent ‘Disappearance’ effect. We haven’t experienced it since coming out as a system to ourselves. But we’re pretty sure we experienced it once, or twice, way back when. It’s formally known as Fusion. Fusion is what happens when two or more alters end up “physically” (for lack of a better word) merging together. They cannot separate, and they become an entirely different alter. The new alter often has some elements of their components in terms of personality traits and memories, but also isn’t a complete merging of everything. Memories and emotional attachments can often get lost in the process. This is where the other Disappearance can occur.

We know it happened to us at least once. Somewhere around middle or high school, for no apparent reason, we had developed an acute awareness and fear of Amnesia, and the identity death that would inevitably come with it. We were always scared, what if we hit our head and lost our memory? What would we remember, if anything? Would we get it back? Media always dramatizes amnesia, where amnesiac characters have some twinge, some spark, where they get drawn to things super important to them from before the memory loss. Would that happen to us? What if it didn’t? What if we never remembered the things that mattered so dearly to us? Would we even be the same person anymore?

If you compare that to the concept of fusion, it’s almost uncomfortably spot on. But we had no idea about systems or fusion back then. Which can only mean we had experienced a fusion, and somehow that caused a disturbance in the system that led to that latent fear to hang over our heads, along with the constant feelings of unreality and dreaming that followed us all through high school.

But somewhere along the line, just as suddenly as that fear developed, it just. Dissipated. It’s still a terrifying concept for us. But we no longer obsess over it like we did back then. We also suspect that’s probably related to another fusion of sorts. We have no clue who they were, or who they are now though. 

So to tie it all back in, in the comic the ‘Me/He’ disappearing would be parallel to an alter going dormant, or possibly fusing. The characters the protagonist and Tormenter are built around were originally part of a storyline of two separate identities that ended up ‘fusing’ to form a different whole, and while I can’t say the comic is faithful to the scientific or actual experience in a system, since I didn’t know about it at the time, I’m pretty sure it was based on what I had picked up on in my subconscious, so that’s the implications there, inaccurate representation though they may be.  I have heard from a few sources that fusion is often the result of a necessary function, to help protect or help an alter that can no longer function or cope the way they have been by creating a new alter that can cope better, so with this understanding, and the direction of the comic, it makes a sort of sense. 

These are my thoughts in regards to your question about ‘disappearance’ in the context of the comic based on my personal experiences, I hope it helped! Feel free to ask more or send in followup questions or statements, hopefully now that I’ve given a lot of context I won’t be quite so long-winded haha

[osmw1]

Dimension Wave   Chapter 32 — The Sea of No Return

“So, any suggestions what we do next?”

The next day. We looked like drowned rats, but at least all of us were still on board. Basically, we had been sucked in by the storm and barely made it out alive. That wasn’t the last of our problems though. Our heading and location were all sorts of messed… the map didn’t help either, as it doesn’t how which direction we faced. And maybe we were so far off track, we couldn’t even use a Tome of Returning. But we did know at least the name of this area: The Sea of No Return.

“Y’all wanna just respawn?” “Alto, you’re suggesting that because we’re Spirits, aren’t you?” “You know I don’t mean it like that, bud.”

It looked like as if what he had just said meant nothing to the bastard. Him, Sheryl, and Tsugumi might not have much of a problem with dying and respawning, but it sure means a lot to us Spirits.

“Let’s keep trekking on if we’re going to die anyway! Since we’re going to get a death penalty either way, why don’t we keep going forwards?”

Tsugumi’s been all smiles since we’ve brought her on board. Maybe that’s how she is, or maybe she’s comfortable opening up to Yamikage and Sheryl and the rest of us. My sister has been so excited about it, I felt like I’d be doing her a disservice if were to even consider anything else.

It’s not like Tsugumi’s really into RPG’s in the first place though. MMO’s, and especially VR ones, always devolves into nothing but combat for her. To be fair, VR games tend to be a little boring with action, but since she’s so good at combat, she’ll plow through them using deliberately underleveled characters. Well, it’s fun just watching her, but only because of how excited she gets.

“… we don’t even know which way’s forwards.” “It’s like we’re trapped in The Labyrinth or The Endless Desert or some other sort of typical RPG dungeon.” “… ‘kay.” “But it’s a little surprising, eh?” “‘Kay.” “But I… I haven’t even said explained anything yet…” “‘Kay.” “Kizuna, you mind interpreting for us?”

We might be used to how talks, but I guess it was a little tough for Alto who’s just met her. So be it, then. Glad to be useful.

“So? What’s surprising?” “Yeah, see, I didn’t believe half—actually, most—of what you said about the sea and stuff, but now I’m beginning to change my mind.” “And why’s that?” “Like you said earlier, being lost in a dungeon would be the typical RPG thing. You know, like you clear the area to get farther, and then at the end, you get some sort of legendary sword or something. Maybe you really are onto something, Kizuna.”

That’s exactly it. From all the games I’ve played, players usually get bogged down by a difficult bit then get rewarded with a key item that’s important to the story. It’d be nice if there were a walkthrough or strategy guide, but since we’re the first ones playing, we’ll have to fumble our way through this Sea of No Return. If we want to cross the ocean, then we have no choice but to head forwards.

    We ended up wandering through the Sea of No Return.

“Kizuna! Yamikage!” “Hmmmph!” “Aye, aye!”

Attacking us were Bladed Mermen and Skyraiders—aquatic and avian monsters, respectively. Defending us were: Shouko, armed with a fan-type derivative weapon in each hand; Tsugumi, with an evolved war scythe; and Yamikage, the one-trick pony.

I didn’t think we’d break a sweat with two former frontliners, but the enemies were tougher than I thought. We were likely facing enemies harder than we should be since the storm had thrown us to who knows where. With little Energy, I was no match for them at the very least.

“Round Dance, the First: Counterstrike!”

Shouko twirled around as if she were really dancing while unfolding both of her fans. It may have been a small AoE attack, but it was enough to hit the enemies up close and farther back.

I suppose “Round Dances” need explaining too… The more these attacks are charged up, the more defense it lowers and the more damage it does, if I recall correctly. They seem to be more offensive than defensive. That being said though, the charge time with Round Dances are much longer compared to Wild Dances, but it also deals a lot more damage. Shouko’s just started using these new skills, but they seem to suit her better. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but Shouko feels like the type to dodge attacks, rather than to parry them—like how she performed acrobatics when we fought Cerberus.

And not to mention the other day… the day when I bought my light-up lure, I discovered Shouko had yet another talent. She’s just as capable with her left hand as she is with her right—she’s ambidextrous. She can even write with both hands.

Shouko really is hot shit.

Jokes aside though, dual wielding isn’t such a surprise and characters usually fight just as well with either hand in normal video games. Skills, of course, are something you activate then you let the system work out how it goes. It’s a different story for autoattacks in VR games, however. I don’t know a lot about the subject, but I’ve heard that handedness has a lot to do with your brain. Going by that, fighting well with both hands in a VR game would probably need a lot of talent.

I also remember watching some retro TV show saying how left-handedness can be an advantage in things like sports. With VR games being the product of science experiments, it might be safe to assume they’ve counted for handedness too. Well, that’s neither here nor there though. Oh, and by the way, I’m just another right-handed average joe.

“She really blows your expectations away, eh?” “You sure you wanna stick around here, Alto? You’re gonna get killed.” “… be careful.” “So? What kind of expectations are we talking about?” “I meant, like, my first impressions of her.”

I’ll agree that first impressions of Shouko can be a little deceptive. She may seem soft-spoken and well-mannered, but she’s got a violent side to her. Don’t forget that she’s the one who said that offense is the best defense when we were participating in the Dimension Wave. … it’s almost as if she’s from a different generation or something—almost as if she’s a general from Sengoku Japan or the Three Kingdoms of China.

“Oh, I’ve just remembered. Have you been using your Crystal of Mediation, bud?” “… what are you gonna do? Sell it?”

—Stone of Mediation. The ones purchasable at NPC shops grant one bonus effect. On top of that, it also grants something called “Shield Energy” and it works much like an HP gauge like other races have. And, much like an HP gauge, it naturally recovers over time. The only thing about it is that it doesn’t grant that much more health. The weaker ones give about 50 and the best one only gives 1,000 extra points. For balancing’s sake, Stones with low Shield Energy might have a more potent buff and vice versa. I guess it’s up to the player to choose what they want more. I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that Yamikage chose one that buffs her dark magic. Unlike her, though, my build is all over the place, so I chose a stone that improves my Masteries.

“Remember back when we first met, like… I don’t know, a month or so ago? Remember that crystallization from before?”

Oh, right. I totally had something like that. It’s lost somewhere in my inventory, but I should still have it somewhere. Let me just look for it real quick. Unidentified, huh?

“There it is. This thing, right?” “You still haven’t identified it yet?” “I mean, I got it before the system was even implemented into the game…”

To be fair, I suppose the system just hasn’t been activated until recently. I’m sure I’ll find more items that haven’t been patched in too.

“Well, how ‘bout I identify it for you then? I’ve checked out a few items from my line of work, so you could say I’m pretty experienced at it.” “Sure, but I’ve got no money on me.”

With the glow in the dark lure, reel, and cooking utensils, I am out dry. These Stones of Mediation might be good, but if they are, then it’s probably too rich for me…

What, you think I’m the type of guy to hound my friends over a few bucks?” “What, would I be wrong?” “Of course! No way I’d ask for money for something like this.” “Sorry for assuming. Please and thank you, then.”

I handed over the unidentified crystal to Alto and he looked at it with a magnifying glass? a loupe? A soft light enveloped the loupe as soon as he muttered “Item identification.” Immediately, the jet black crystal turns into a pale blue.

“Yep. Looks like you fished up something similar to a Stone of Mediation.” “Fishing and gutting are the only two things I do well anyway.”

Maybe I should try equipping it. It’d be more accurate to say I’m transferring over the soul from the Stone though since they’re kinda like holy artifacts.

Beginner’s Crystal of Mediation Shield Energy: 700/700 +2 Fishing Mastery Attracts more attention from nocturnal sea creatures.

Looks like this one gives two bonus effects and it gives a lot of shield. That’s really special. Even the name is different. The ones in shops are called Stones and this one is a Crystal. That’s probably because of the skills and stuff though.

“Honestly, thanks a bunch.” “Any day, my man. You’re always finding ways for me to make money, so don’t even mention it.”

Our sailing adventure was off to a good start.

contents: /prologue/ /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /ch017/ /ch018/ /ch019/ /ch020/ /ch021/ /ch022/ /ch023/ /ch024/ /ch025/ /ch026/ /ch027/ /ch028/ /ch029/ /ch030/ /ch031/ /ch032/ /next/

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[north-peach]

I HAVE RETURNED. Headcanons for GoodDadEnji AU pt 2. The Emergency Number being used in ACTUAL EMERGENCIES wherein his child is terrified and crying, there's fights happening, he can HEAR the danger and he just N O P E S so hard.

Ooohhhh, you brilliant thing. I adore this and Imma write a mini fic, ‘kay?

GoodDadEnji AU

Enji couldn’t help the vicious smile that spread across his face as he grabbed his opponents fists, while setting his hands alight. A feminine face snarled in pain, as she spat several nasty words in his face.

Endeavor twisted and with a shout of his own, lifted the villain- a tall female with enhanced strength and an absorption Quirk of some kind- up and over his shoulder, slamming her into the ground. The dry Earth cracked at the force even as the villain choked as the breath was forced from her lungs.

Truly, this was a fight that was stretching his muscles because not only was the villain absorbing his flames, she was decently skilled in martial arts and combat tactics. The fight had already been going on for at least ten minutes and the cameras could probably pick up the pleased expression on the face of the No. 2 hero.

Especially as no matter how hard Endeavor slammed, threw or hit the woman, she still continued to stand and return the attack. 

Enji had taken to increasing the temperature of their environment and it showed in how heavily the woman was both breathing and sweating. Still, she got to her feet every time. She hadn’t aimed to take civilian lives, and they were in a relatively open area so Endeavor was free for the rest of the day.

Heavy sparring to liven up his increasingly boring week. Enji couldn’t be more pleased. Even at the thought of the paperwork that would come of this.

The seconds in which the woman stayed on the ground was a brief instant in which a very loud and attention-grabbing ringtone distracted both the hero and the villain. The way Endeavor immediately diverted his focus to swiftly answer the phone was a moment of reprieve for the villain, one she took, allowing herself to breath and prepare a counter attack.

However, the voice on the other end had an entirely different affect on the no. 2 hero when the caller began to speak.

“Daddy! Daddy, you need to come and get me!”

It was a child, sobbing audibly and with the high pitch tones of distress even as the muted sounds of an explosion echoed through the tiny speakers.

The villain scarcely had a moment to make the connection because the temperature shot up to such an unbelievable level that she wheezed in her next breath.

“Where are you, Fuyumi?”

The voice that came snarling from Endeavor’s throat with thick with the scent of hellfire and brimstone even as embers began to drift from his flaming form. 

He paid no attention to the woman weakly struggling under his grip even as his fist began to slowly darken her skin.

“I was walking home from school- with T-takeshi-kun- and then there was f-fire and I tried to- I tried to put it out but then there were people and I didn’t like them and I’m scared and I don’t know- I don’t know where I am!”

“Stay right there, Fuyumi, no matter what you have to do. Daddy will be there soon, okay?”

A choppy breath, a stifled sob and a noise of agreement before Endeavor quickly punched in another number and began barking orders. 

“I need a trace on my daughter’s phone, right now. Patch the line through to my comms.”

The temperature eased and the villain sucked in a much lighter breath of precious air. A shadow fell across her face and she looked up into the face of an Endeavor that was drastically different from the one that had been fighting her.

“If you know what’s good for you,” the man said in the voice of the devil, “you will stay down.”

Truthfully, the villain would be perfectly fine after medical treatment. Even if she never quite recovered her memory from what exactly Endeavor did, she could say that was a fight that she would never forget.

~///~

The helicopter carrying the reporters- along with the cameras- would capture the entire event in perfect clarity. For the most part. The visible waves of heat did mess with the picture, but the situation was apparent to viewers. 

No one could really miss Endeavor bursting into brilliant scarlet flames and launching himself into the air- towards the more populated areas of the city. It didn’t take long for his destination to be clear- the school was the only place that was in the direction he was headed that was reporting any disturbances. 

Those were extremely recent though- three minutes after Endeavor took off is when they received the first reports of explosions.

Four minutes after Endeavor took off, at the height of a particularly massive leap, there’s a bright burst of flames and the no. 2 hero drops out of the air into the middle of a road somewhat obscured by thick, black smoke. 

Half a second after that, there’s a gust of wind and flame and the smoke is cleared. There’s a group of about a handful of people- villains clearly- along with small glittering pillars and spikes of ice. However, the reporters immediately focus on the smudge of white cradled against the blue of Endeavor’s costume.

It takes only a moment for the reporter to realize it’s a child. It’s the camera man that brings up Endeavor’s wife, Todoroki Rei, who has an Ice Quirk and brilliant white hair.

There’s ice covering a villain, a white-haired child in the hero’s arms and then there’s movement-

It’s so fast, after this ends, the live coverage will be replayed in slow motion. People will remark on how much they trust in Endeavor, in his rage at his daughter being in danger, in the swiftness of his actions. His public approval ratings will soar and remain high for weeks.

Endeavor turns around to place the girl gently on the ground and he’ll bend down to place a kiss on her forehead. He’ll give her a push and she’ll walk away until she stands a couple feet from her father.

Endeavor will turn around.

There’s flames. Lots of flames. The air trembles and the occupants of the helicopter will later ask one another if they heard the faint sounds of screaming.

Regardless, the end result is the same. Burned villains crumpled on hot asphalt. There are melted footsteps in the ground and there’s no trace of ice left. 

The slow motion rewind will show every strike Endeavor made, every kick, every fireball he threw and the way he almost skewered two villains together if they hadn’t thrown themselves to their knees voluntarily. 

Still, they are obviously not going to be moving under their own power. Which is why Endeavor does not hesitate when he turns and lets his daughter throw herself into his arms. The Flame Hero simply starts walking. 

There’s silence in the helicopter before the cameraman whispers a quiet, awed, ‘damn’. That’s followed by faint noises of agreement that soon turn to almost hysterical giggles when Endeavor disappears into an ice cream shop.

Police arrive almost immediately after and the event goes down in history why it’s a bad idea to mess with Endeavor’s kids.

Not that some don’t get the warning, but usually those incidents always end with a completely deadpan, ‘really, what did they expect?’.

Fuyumi proud stands before her class and says, ‘my daddy is the best hero.’.

Enji will grumble about the audacity of villains and how heroes always win, of course, but Fuyumi is moved to a different school. One with much more security.

Also a driver is hired for the Todoroki household.

EDIT: It’s canon that Shouto’s mother is called Rei.

[silenceindetroit]

The Meaning of Silence - Part 3

“Connor?”

Hank stepped into the kitchen, fighting with the buttons of his shirt. He sighed to himself when he saw the android sitting on the floor, rubbing one of Sumo's ears in his hand. There was a spot every morning that received a perfect patch of early sunlight. That was Sumo's Spot. But he was generous enough to share it in return for head rubs for a while. “You know I never sweep in here, right?” he asked. “I wouldn't sit on the floor if I were you.”

“I've been keeping up with cleaning,” Connor said. He rubbed his thumb back and forth above Sumo's snout. “I haven't had much else to do to keep busy.”

Hank looked down. He had no reason to feel guilty; they were doing everything they could. Still, he knew it was starting to get to the android. “I know, kid.” He finished the last button. “We're working on it. Cyberlife's been dropping the ball getting back to us.”

When the tides had turned in favor of the android revolution, the first think Hank had done was call Cyberlife, waiting through hours of hold music and countless transfers to talk to someone with enough power to give him a real answer. What did they plan to do with their golden boy?

Even then their explanation wasn't straightforward. All action was currently on hold.

They had given Connor to him, he tried to tell them.

Yes, but only for the deviancy investigations, he was told. Again, any further action was on hold.

“What the hell does that mean?” Hank had growled into his phone. “You already sent a replacement out when he failed his mission. You have newer upgraded models out. Why's it so important that you hold onto him when you're probably going to discard him anyway?”

“Your particular RK800 model is, in a sense, a liability to the company due to its inability to maintain software regulations, as well as its participation in recent events, Sir.”

“Jesus... How much would it cost to purchase him from you guys?”

“All transactions and purchases are currently on hold due to legality.”

He had driven the next day to Kamski's place.

“They're trying to cover their asses,” Kamski said after Hank had explained everything. “They're neck-deep in lawsuits and broken contracts right now. A large part of it due to Connor's break in.”

“Because now they've failed to deliver products that they promised companies,” Hank guessed.

“Exactly.”

“Shit. What can we do?”

Kamski took a deep breath. “What's your poison, Anderson?”

“Bourbon, if you have it.”

Kamski motioned to one of his androids. He didn't say a word until she had returned, two glasses balanced on a tray in one hand, a bottle in the other.

They took their glasses after she had poured for them. “If I offer you my help, I want something in return,” Kamski said as he raised his to his lips.

Hank took a sip. “What kind of help are we talking about?”

“I can buy him off the company. My name still holds a great deal of weight there. I have people who can deal with the legal action. It might take some time, especially with how swamped they are right now, but if all goes well at the end of it your name will be under his owner rights.” Kamski took another sip, thoughtful. “Now would probably be the best time to act, anyway,” he admitted. “Before legal action gets even more complicated. The country's going to be working through citizenships and classifications. All of that could take months. Maybe even years. Best to act before the worst of the storm hits.”

Hank folded his arms over his chest. “And what is it you want if we get through this whole mess?”

Kamski met his eyes. “I want to talk with him,” he said. “I want to pick at his mind, see what makes him tick. Deviancy is incredibly fascinating to me.”

He didn't like the sound of that. “Like a lab rat.”

“Like a client. Who knows, it might even benefit him.”

Hank was silent. He stared down into his glass, weighing both sides. “And how do I know I can trust you?” he asked.

Kamski held his gaze from across the desk. “Liutenant, why do you think I left Cyberlife in the first place?” he asked. “Why did I start building a hidden emergency exit into my own creations?”

Hank grimaced and knocked back half of his drink, setting the glass on the desk. “I don't care what your intentions were in the past. I care what they are now.”

Kamski raised an eyebrow. “And what about you? Why are you so set on saving one particular android?” When there was no reply, he continued, “I offer my help because I see something we can both gain from the situation. And at this point you don't have much of a choice if you truly want to help him. Like I said, if we succeed, his name will be under your ownership rights, not mine.”

“Don't call it that.” But Hank knew he was right. Kamski's offer hung heavy as he sat deep in thought for a few minutes. “This whole observing thing... if he ever says he's had enough, then that's it,” he warned. “You don't do anything he's not comfortable with. And I want that in writing if I say yes.”

To his surprise, Kamski pulled open a drawer at his desk and took out a blank contract paper there and then. Hank made him write out explicit rules, adding that any future new decisions had to be run by and agreed upon by him first.

That was two months ago.

Kamski had managed somehow to be in God's graces and convince Cyberlife to let Connor stay under Hank's care as a temporary setup in order to keep a low profile—but until further notice, Connor wasn't allowed to return to any kind of previous work.

And the android was starting to go stir-crazy.

“We're making progress in the paperwork and legal action,” he reminded Connor now. “We've got the right people on our side. This won't be forever.”

“I know.” Connor smoothed the fur down on Sumo's giant forehead. “I appreciate everything you've done, Hank. More than you know.”

“Don't get all sentimental on me right before I gotta go in for work,” Hank muttered, studying his shoes while he put them on. Trying to hide the emotions on his face. “I'll see you when I get home. We'll go drive around tonight.”

Connor nodded. He listened as Hank grabbed his jacket and keys. A few minutes later he was gone, door slamming behind him and key loud in the lock as the bolt slid into place.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. Sumo's paws spread out as he stretched out onto his side, his massive jowls opening in a lazy yawn. He gave a small smile and scratched behind the old dog's ear.

The weekend's events were still fresh in his mind. He had been living them on repeat any chance he was alone.

The way Markus had run his thumb over the palm of his hand. Rubbing the paint from his fingers, and then his chin. The unexpectedness of the kiss.

It had triggered some kind of electrical reaction in Connor he had never known could happen, let alone be prepared for. The kiss itself was a gentle greeting between their lips. His tongue had picked up a slight change of warmth in the air when Markus' lips drew apart his own.

And then it was over. His first kiss gone, with no time to savor it.

He hadn't felt quite himself since.

He shook his head a little. “You want to go for a walk?” he asked Sumo, trying to bring some excitement into his voice. Sumo gave a long sigh in reply.

“Guess I'll go by myself.” He picked the dog's head up between his hands. “I need to go clear my head,” he told him, looking into his eyes. “I'll be back in a while.” Sumo's paddle of a tail thudded against the floor. “Yes, you're a good dog. You're the best dog.”

He dropped into Hank's room before he left, grabbing a light jacket from the closet floor and the beanie Hank had let him borrow when he'd infiltrated Jericho. He tried to blend in whenever he went out into the world now. He didn't like the way people still stared at his LED.

He checked himself in the mirror, readjusting the beanie, making sure it came down low enough over his forehead before he headed out the door.

The sky was a deep blue despite the bite in the air. Spring was around the corner, if not a little early; the cold didn't last as long as it used to. Connor shoved his hands into the pockets of the jacket and picked up the pace. He flicked mentally through his collection of music, a few new songs in there that he had added. He hadn't listened to them yet; it was more interesting to be surprised by what he discovered. He settled on one and closed his eyes as the music filled his head.

5:30am... whoa the whiskey's run dry... go close the curtains... don't want to see the light...

There were a handful of people out and starting their day, some walking their dogs, others hurrying to their cars to get to work. He let his pace slow a little.

He was almost angry. Not at Markus, though; never at Markus. He'd barely expected the other android to ever hold his hand again, let alone kiss him. If he'd known it would happen—or been able to read the goddamn signs—he would would have been able to enjoy the ride from anticipation to completion in those few seconds. Instead it had slipped through his fingers. And he and Markus hadn't had a chance to speak since.

What would he even say, though? That he wanted a do-over? The thought alone made his heart pump a little faster, fueling his stress levels. He wanted to tear his circuits apart.

He wondered how he'd looked to Markus in those moments after. If the uncertainty had been noticeable, or the panic.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself; he hadn't been listening to the song.

Six blocks came and went beneath his feet before he came to a full stop, the corner of his eye catching movement down an alley.

A child, no more than six or seven, was crouched in front of a row of trash cans, leaning forward between two, their face blocked from view. He scanned the rest of the area. No sign of parents.

He took a hesitant step forward, then another. “Hello,” he called out when he was about ten feet away. The child's head turned towards him. A boy. Brown, tangled bangs hung above his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I need help,” the boy called back.

“Are you in trouble?”

“You have to come see.” The boy motioned for Connor to come over with one hand before his eyes went back to the ground, between the trash cans. Connor walked over and tilted his head down to look. The sounds reached his ears less than a moment before he registered what he was looking at.

A cardboard box had been torn open on one side. Nestled in the very middle was a squirming, mewling pile of kittens, each one a variation between black, tabby, and tortie.

“I found them,” the boy told Connor. He put his chin in his hands as he watched them. “I think there's five.”

Connor knelt down beside him, analyzing. They weren't newborns. Still too young to be on their own, though. “Where's their mother?”

A shrug. “I waited by my door to see if she would come back.” He tilted his head to the side to look up at Connor. “I'm Michael.”

“My name's Connor.”

“We have to help them, Connor,” Michael stated, determination in his voice.

Connor blinked in surprise. This boy didn't even know him. “I think that might be a job for your parents. Where are they?”

Michael shook his head. “They're busy. At work.”

“You're here by yourself?” Warnings flashed through Connor's head. Child neglect?

“Jeanine's here. She doesn't leave the house.”

“Oh.” The warnings subsided, but didn't disappear. “Why's that?”

Another shrug. “Mom said. But it's okay. I'm allowed to go out by myself.” Michael pushed up off the pavement and stood. “Wait here—you watch the kittens. I'll be right back.” He didn't wait for a reply before he turned and ran to the doorway that connected one of the covered parking spots to the inner courtyard of an apartment complex.

Connor stared after him, his fans whirring, trying to process what had just happened. His attention snapped back to the kittens when one of them separated from the rest of its siblings and tried to climb out into the sunshine, still learning its balance. It squeaked in protest when he scooped it up and set it in his lap between his hands. His brow furrowed as he rubbed its chin with his finger. One of the two torties. Most of its left ear was gone, the wound already healed over.

Michael was carrying a plastic tub in his arms when he returned. A towel was spread on the bottom. “Okay,” he announced as he set it down. “I told Jeanine. I can take them to the shelter, then I have to come right back.”

“Michael...”

But the boy was already picking up a kitten from the litter with gentle hands. “Don't worry,” he whispered to it. “We're here to help.” He placed it carefully in the tub. “Oh, you met one,” he commented when he saw the kitten in Connor's lap.

“Michael, can I talk to Jeanine? Would that be okay?”

“Okay. Help me first.”

The two of them piled the rest of the kittens into their temporary home. When they were done Michael stood, ready to pick up the tub.

“Here. Let me do that.” Connor got to his knees and lifted it with ease into his arms.

Michael led him through the courtyard to his apartment door, pushing it open by the doorknob. “Jeanine,” he addressed through the doorway. “My friend wanted to talk to you.” Connor heard footsteps crossing the living room floor, and then the head of an AX300 android appeared from behind the door. Her eyes widened with wariness at him, LED turning yellow.

He made his voice pleasant. “Hello. My name is Connor. Michael says that he's allowed to leave the house unsupervised. I just wanted to check with you that that's accurate.”

“Yes. He's allowed to be out as long as he's back within an hour.”

“He can come with me, right?” Michael asked.

Connor looked down at the boy. “Michael, I don't think—”

“Come on. You have to help. You said you would.”

Jeanine's eyes were still on Connor, studying something. “It's you, isn't it?” she asked. Her voice was low. “The one from the news.” Her gaze seemed to soften. “I knew you looked familiar.” Her LED flickered from its previous yellow back to blue. Connor tried to hide the grimace from his face.

“He can come, right?” Michael pressed.

“The same rules still apply, Michael. Be back in an hour.”

Michael's face lit up. “Yes,” he whispered to himself. “Come on!” He was already taking off, back towards the alley they had come from.

A hand reached out from behind the door as Connor turned to follow. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For what you did.” A look of sadness passed over her face, mingled with gratitude. And then the door shut, hiding her from view before he could think of a reply.

Michael was waiting for him at the end of the alley. “The shelter's twenty minutes if we take the bus,” he said.

“Lead the way.”

Connor glanced down at the kittens as they made their way down the street, their heads swaying with the movement of each step he took. The one with the missing ear stared up at him with bright green eyes.

“Are you a robot?” Michael asked suddenly.

He blinked, unsure how to respond. His beanie was still pulled down low over his forehead. “Well, yes.”

“Cool.” Michael ran over to the curb and tried to walk on its edge without losing his balance. “I wish I was a robot,” he said. “Then I could punch through walls, and stuff.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Connor's mouth. “I can't quite punch through walls, I'm afraid.”

“Oh.” The disappointment was evident in Michael's voice. “What can you do?”

He thought about it for a moment. Trying to find things that a child might deem interesting. “I can run pretty fast.”

“Neat.”

“And anything a phone can do, I can do in my head.”

“Can you hack computers? Like in the movies?”

“Sort of. Not quite,” he lied. Best not give him any ideas.

They walked another block, Michael deep in concentration, still trying to perfect his tightrope abilities. He looked over his shoulder at Connor just before they reached the bus stop. “Why're you sad?” he asked.

Connor's eyebrows lifted. “I'm not sad.”

“You look sad.”

The boy jumped over a crack in the sidewalk and climbed onto the bench. Connor took the seat next to him, settling the tub onto his lap. “What makes you think so?”

“Grown-ups always get that look when they're sad but they don't talk about it,” Michael said knowingly. He climbed onto his knees, peering over the lip of the tub. “That one likes you,” he said, pointing to the tortie with the missing ear.

“I think you're right.” Connor reached his hand in, offering his index finger to the kitten. “I'm not sad. Not really, I don't think. Just... confused.”

The boy's deep brown eyes were on him now. “About what?”

His brow furrowed, searching for the right words. “Something I did with someone. But in my mind I thought it would go one way. And it didn't. And I was so surprised that I didn't get to appreciate it when it happened.”

“Oh! Like me and David's show?”

“I don't know. Who's David?”

“David's my best friend.” Michael beamed as if David was the most famous person in the world. “We wanted to put on a show about dragons. We set it up in the living room. It was good, but the first time we did it, nothing really happened in the story.” He looked up at the clouds that dotted the sky above them.

Connor followed his gaze. “So what did you do?”

“We started it again and added more cool stuff. We made one of the dragons the bad guy that wanted all the other dragons' stuff. And he put it in a treasure chest so the good dragons had to get the key. But that was still too boring, so we did it again with more keys, and they had to go on a big adventure to find each one.”

Connor smiled. “That sounds exciting.”

“It was. Maybe you could do that with your friend.”

“You mean,” he said slowly, “do it again, but make it more exciting?”

Michael nodded. “Or what was it you said?”

“That I didn't get to appreciate it when it happened the first time.”

“Yeah. All you have to do is do it again. But maybe with explosions.”

“Explosions would make it pretty interesting.”

“Or dancing. When all the dragons got their stuff back they had a big dance party.”

“Huh.” Connor let his eyes drift down the street, where their bus was turning the corner. “I think you might have something there.”

It was less than a ten minute ride to the shelter. The woman at the front desk saw them in right away, letting the two bring the kittens to a back room. “We'll contact our foster families,” she said. “In the meantime they'll have to stay at the shelter for a few days while we monitor their health and get them vaccinated and microchipped.”

Michael reached into the tub and lifted out the tortie with the missing ear.“You should take this one home,” he whispered to Connor, offering to let him hold it. “She likes you best.”

Connor let the boy slide the kitten into his arms. “She doesn't have a name,” he said, cradling her against his chest.

Michael looked into the kitten's face. “She looks like a Beatrice to me,” he replied with a nod. “Bea for short.”

Connor rubbed his finger in gentle circles over the kitten's forehead. “I think you're right.”

“We can keep her here for you,” the woman offered. “But you'll still have to wait the period until all her medical stuff checks out.”

“That's fine.”

“You have a name and number we can call you at?” He considered what to tell her for a second before giving her Hank's.

The bus ride back was quiet between him and Michael. The boy had taken to the window seat, folding his arms under his chin and watching the passing cars. This felt like a good kind of silence, Connor thought to himself. The kind you used for reflection.

“We done good today, Mr. President,” he told Connor when they were halfway home, still looking out the window. “We done good.” The android felt the odd sensation of laughter bubble up in his system for the second time in his life.

They took the bus back to the same stop. “Are you gonna walk home with me?” he asked Connor when they were climbing down the steps.

“Sure.”

It wasn't a far walk. They made it to the alley with ten minutes to spare on Michael's hour long curfew. The boy turned to Connor before leaving the sidewalk for the asphalt. “I'll see you around, right?”

“I'm sure you will.”

“You'll have to tell me how Beatrice is doing when you go get her.”

“I will.”

Michael gave a nod of finality. And then he turned and ran back to his apartment, the way kids do when they have some exciting new to tell. There was only one thing Connor could think as he watched the boy disappear out of sight.

Hank's gonna kill me.

----------

“Welcome home, Markus,” the house announced as its front doors swung open. Markus let his coat slide from his shoulders in the foyer, hanging it on the rack in the corner. He had been called in early that morning to speak with several politicians in Detroit with his own political team of androids. They needed his presence there to back what they were trying to present to the city, he'd been told. The hours had passed slowly in the conference room.

It had been a long day.

“Markus?” Carl's voice called out from the other room, raspy. Markus made his way into the den, where Carl was on the couch with a blanket tucked around his legs, a cup of tea steaming on the side table and a book in his lap.

Markus' eyes softened. “Hey,” he said, coming over to stand by the old man.

“How did the conference go?”

“It went.” He grimaced. “They're thinking they'll need me another two or three days before they get to the end of this.”

“Hm. I know you must be burnt out, but there's something I think you might want to go see. On the roof.”

Markus blinked, confused. “The roof?” he echoed.

“In the garden.” There was a suspiscious twinkle in Carl's eye.

“What is it?” he asked, but Carl only waved his hand at him, shooing him on with a chuckle.

The rooftop garden used to host guests during summer nights once upon a time. As Carl had gotten older, its use had changed mostly for the evenings too warm for staying inside. But they were barely on the cusp of spring. Nothing would be able to grow up there for at least another month or two. Markus pondered the look Carl had given him as he climbed the stairs.

He understood once he reached the door to the garden and pushed it open.

The string lights that zig-zagged overhead had been turned on, casting a warm glow over the empty garden beds and patio benches, the bulbs swaying in the breeze. Connor was seated in the middle of a bench, hands clasped in his lap. The light reflected off the edges of his hair like a halo. His head turned when he heard Markus take a step out.

Markus gave a bemused smile. “What's all this?”

Connor got to his feet slowly. “Markus,” he started. His heart was already pounding out of its typical rhythm. “There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about.”

The smile faded to concern. “Is everything okay, Connor?”

The other android shook his head. “It's... about the last time we saw each other.”

“Oh.” Markus' own heart gave an odd thump in his chest. “I'm sorry if I offended you at all. I should have asked first... If I was wrong to assume—”

“I wasn't ready for it.”

Markus' gaze fell to the empty patio tiles that stretched between them. “I understand.”

Connor closed his eyes, trying to get his thoughts straight. “But I want to be. This time.” He took a step toward Markus, then another. “Markus,” he managed, his voice low, but still loud enough to hear. He reached out his hand, palm open in offering, internal fans whirring. “Will you dance with me?”

Markus' lips parted in surprise. And then a grin spread to the corners of his mouth, and his gaze softened into a look that would have been enough to trigger another overheating warning in Connor's head if not for the chill in the breeze. “Of course.” He closed the distance between them and slid his palm into Connor's.

The moment their fingers interlocked he felt Connor open an interface between them. Their heads filled with the gentle notes of a piano, immediately followed by a young man's voice. Markus raised an eyebrow. “Chet Baker, huh?” he asked. “Didn't think you were such a fan of the classics.”

“It's a song many have danced to over the decades,” Connor replied, looking away to hide his embarassment. He had never realized how beautiful Markus' face was up close. Or rather, he had never let himself indulge in noticing.“I can change it if you don't like it.”

“No. This is perfect.” Connor watched as Markus slid his free hand up onto his hip, picking up a gentle sway that was easy enough to join in to. He followed suit, letting his own palm find its place above Markus' waist, their interlocked hands outstretched a few inches to the side.

“I really am sorry,” Markus said now as they made a slow turn together, his voice sincere. “I should have asked you the first time before I kissed you.”

“To be fair, I'm not very good at reading the signs.”

Connor felt an electric surge pulse through him when Markus laughed. “No,” he agreed, drawing Connor a little closer. “But it's sweet.”

Their feet moved them in small circles until the song reached its end in a duet of trumpet and piano. “Mind if I play one?” Markus asked.

“Not at all.”

Familiar instruments filled his head, but this time there was no drum bass to accompany it. Connor flicked over the song information. “You have a particular preference for this artist,” he commented.

Markus shrugged. “We're drawn to the music that speaks to us,” he replied simply. He reached to take Connor's hand from his waist, wrapping it in his own, and drew their hands behind Connor's back. Their chests were less than a few centimeters apart as the song already made its way into the chorus.

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask and neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

Connor closed his eyes when Markus tilted his head down, pressing their foreheads together, the music swallowing him. It was terrifying, and exhilirating, and beautiful, all at once. Their feet had stopped, leaving them still swaying together. The two of them were the only ones in the world.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered. His eyelids fluttered open to look for Markus' response.

The smile on the android's lips was gentle. “You don't have to ask,” he whispered back.

There was no hesitation to stand in his way this time when their lips met. But unlike last time, Connor let it be drawn out, savoring Markus' closeness. He felt the spark again when Markus kissed him back. And again. And again.

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

(For some reason that whole part with Michael felt choppy. Probably cause of all the dialogue.  Hope I’m just being too critical lol)

[autumn-maple13]

Lost to Time - Chapter 2

Child of Ardyn FFXV Fanfic

Chapter 2: Visions or Dreams?

Amara gave her mom a disbelieving look as she was led to the couch in their living room. Rosemary took her book bag to sit on the coffee table, sighing at the fading patch that had been sewn onto it so many years ago.

"Amara, when you were a child you had horrible night terrors," she looked at her daughter as she sat beside her. "Sometimes you would scream, sometimes you would cry, but you always managed to get me and Vincent running to check on you."

"Why would that be happening?"

"Well, we don't know. Your entire life up until I found you is a mystery to us, not even you could ever tell us anything. But when you'd have those night terrors, it was like everything you had lived through would rush back and terrify you. You'd scream for your father, and then scream the second Vincent would try to comfort you, then you'd turn around and scream for your mother, then cry and ask her why she was "letting this happen". We figured out pretty early that you were talking about your real parents, but never what was happening to you."

Amara felt a headache coming on and reached up to rub her forehead. "I had no idea."

"We didn't think you'd want us to tell you. When you'd wake up it was like none of it had ever happened. We thought whatever it was you were re-living in your dreams was so scarring your conscious-self had blocked it completely. Around the fourth year after you came to be with us, those night terrors finally stopped, and we thought maybe you'd forgotten for good, or came to terms with your past."

"Four years? You lived with that for four years?"

"We're your parents," Rosemary smiled and placed her hand on top of Amara's other one. "You went without even a single nightmare after that, until… until a few nights ago, when we woke up to you screaming again."

"What?"

"You were crying out for your father again, and screaming for someone to help him. You had never done that before. Then you seemed to calm down for a while, and when we went to check on you again you were crying, asking 'Etro' to stop showing you everything."

"Etro? You mean like that Goddess from way back when?"

"Yes." her mother shrugged and put on a sad smile. "I think someone is reaching out to you in your dreams, I've always believed that, to be honest, but I think someone or something is trying to really reach out to you now. Maybe even that father you seem to miss so much."

Amara shook her head. "This is crazy."

"Yeah, but so is half of this world."

Amara knew she was speaking the truth, after all - the magic possessed by the royal family and their chosen few, as well as the very thing protecting the city, a crystal of all things, were far stranger to her.

"What would it mean if someone were trying to reach me? I mean, stuff like that is only supposed to happen to the Oracle."

"Not necessarily, but you should ask your father about it."

"Huh?" she gave her mother a confused look as she stood, but the woman only had a smile on her face. Without trying to clarify anything, she walked off to get dinner ready, and with his usual perfect timing, her father walked in only moments later. Amara turned her confused look on him, making him stall halfway in the door.

"Uh-oh, I know that look. Honey?"

"Your turn!"

"Oh no, what did I do?" The man slowly closed the door before going to sit with his daughter, still clearly trying to figure out if he had fucked recently or not.

"We were talking about the nightmares I used to have."

"Oh, those? What about them?"

"Well, mom suggested that something might be trying to reach me, and when I asked if that was only supposed to happen to the Oracle, she told me to ask you." Amara was getting more confused by the second, and watching the color drain from her father's face didn't help. "Dad?"

"Oh Six… Well, uhm, you see…" he sighed as if he was admitting defeat. "I thought the same thing, and actually brought it up to the King. He… asked for me to bring you to him."

"What? I don't remember that."

"You wouldn't. Shortly after we arrived at the palace, you had a panic attack and passed out." the man rubbed his neck. "King Regis looked over you anyway and told me to bring you back to him when you were ready, whatever that means. He wouldn't tell me why, just to be patient and wait for you to bring it up yourself."

"So, what does that mean for me?"

"It means, you need to go see the King." and just like that, she realized why he had turned so pale. As he dug a piece of paper out of his bag, a form to appeal for an audience with the king. Amara looked at the paper with a tinge of fear, looking at her father with her concern clear on her face. "Don't give me that look Amara, it's going to be pretty necessary if you're intending to find out the truth. If it's not you, we'll never know."

The girl nodded, looking over the paper once more before reaching into her backpack for a pen. "If I fill this out, how long will it be before I'm summoned?"

"I don't know. His Majesty has been so busy with the war, it could be a little bit."

"Alright." as her father got up to go join her mother in the kitchen, Amara began to carefully fill out the form, checking and double checking everything she put down so she didn't start off on the wrong foot. Sure, she had spoken to the king before, but this wasn't going to be a brief 'bow and get out the way' kind of thing, this was going to be a formal appearance, possibly with the council in tow. This was a meeting the King himself had asked to be allowed when the time came, it wasn't something she could mess up unless she was okay with possibly ruining the one chance she had of finding out the truth of those nightmares she had once suffered. As she reached the bottom of the paper, the place she would have to write her intentions for the appearance, she paused. Unsure of what to put down she felt herself begin worrying her lip, a habit she been fighting to kick, and made herself pause for a moment before an idea came to her.

Looking at the paper once more, she held her pen to it.

Follow up appearance - possibility of calling from beyond our world.

She looked over her work before her growling stomach and the smells from the kitchen made her leave it beside her bag to join her parents. Rosemary smiled from the stove, already beginning to plate their dinner. Her father had already seated himself at the table and gave her a nod as she joined him.

"I'll turn it in first thing tomorrow, but for now how about we move on to more pleasant things."

"How was your first day of high school?" her mother set a plate in front of her. "Was it any different than before?"

"Not really." she poked at the roasted chicken on her plate. "Had to be rescued by prince charming though."

"Prince Noctis?"

"Apparently one of my teachers is a real hard-case about facts. Caught me after school to question me about something I said in class. Noctis interrupted." the girl shrugged. "Not like I didn't have everyone's attention anyway. My hair doesn't exactly let me blend in, especially with this war."

"Have you thought about dying it? I mean all those comments about Chancellor Izunia aren't helping…" Vincent shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Even at work…"

"I did for a while, even bought a box of dye." Amara looked a little downcast for a moment. "But for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to do it. It… made me so sad."

Her parents exchanged a look that went unnoticed by her, but she did catch the hint of concern their features still held when she looked up from stabbing at the small salad on her plate. She shrugged it off, putting on a smile before eating what had accumulated on her fork. Her parents followed suit if only to try and get the tense atmosphere to disperse. Making a bit more idle conversation managed to get dinner to pass with a bit more ease, though they were concerned that one of her teachers seemed to have his sights on her now.

"Remind me to look into this guy, for some reason his name sounds familiar." her father tapped the end of his fork idly on the table. "For now, I guess just do whatever. I mean, it's not really like you can disappear into the background now that you've made yourself stand out so much."

"Talking to Prince Noctis so casually first thing and last thing definitely didn't help either," she confirmed. "I may just have to say I'm in training to join Crownsguard to get some people off my back."

"The Marshall may not appreciate that."

"It's not like it's a lie though." her mother piped up, sipping on her drink. "Technically she is on the Crownsguard's trainee list, you've said so yourself. Marshall Leonis may just take it as confirmation of her intentions and have her come in for a fitting."

"Or see it as a sign of ignorance when it comes to rules and drop her completely."

"I don't think he can really judge someone because of that." her reply was dry, hinting at something that her daughter didn't get. "For now, I think Amara's real focus should be her homework, and not how to backup whatever excuses she uses to stay out of trouble."

"Oh right that reminds me, I need one of you to sign the paperwork I got today. All fifty pages." Amara watched the color drain from both parents, glaring at each other until her father caved and raised a hand. "I'll get the folder from my bag."

"I kinda wish I had taken that overtime today."

The girl laughed, shaking her head at her father's faux misery while she went to retrieve the papers. Sure it wasn't actually fifty pages, but if she had to panic over filling out a paper for the king, he could sweat a little over her school papers.

[shireness-says]

Scurvy and Milestones

Summary: Growing up is hard. Doing so surrounded by a bunch of pirates who won't stop to think before they speak doesn't make things any easier. ~2K. Also on AO3.

A/N: It’s my birthday, so here’s a party favor for you all. That’s how this works, right? 

I really enjoy writing Tiny Henry, so here’s a little follow-up to Killian Jones and the Lost Boy. There might be a few more of these if all goes well.

Many thanks to @awkwardnessandbaseball, who keeps reading through these and telling me they’re adorable. You’re a delight, babe.

Rated T for mild swearing. Enjoy!

Killian Jones is proud to captain the most loyal crew on the seven seas. It’s not every day that an entire ship full of sailors willingly give up their way of life, all because the captain decided to move his life in a different direction. But that’s what had happened when Killian gave up piracy to stay on the straight and narrow for Henry, the little boy who had stolen all their hearts, and most days, he couldn’t be more thankful. However, other days he just wants to screech about how boneheaded they all are.

Today is one of the latter.

It hadn’t started out that way, but then again, they never do. Things are actually good; it’s been almost a year since the change-over, and while he and Emma still aren’t married, Henry is happy as a clam and growing like a weed, and the new import and trade business he’s engaging in has proved profitable and welcomed by the locals. They’d actually just gotten back from one of their trips two days prior, laden down with all manner of fabrics to trade - something the townspeople have proven especially excited about. Yesterday had been dedicated to downtime and family, joyfully letting Henry recount every single moment of the past two weeks, but it’s back to the grindstone now, focusing on the various repairs, maintenance, and upkeep that needs to be done to keep any ship in prime condition.

They’re actually winding down for the day - there’s a few more extensive, but still minor repairs that need to be executed in the hold, but everything has been put back in its proper place and set to order, the ropes neatly coiled, the cargo hold emptied and scrubbed. He’s just about to suggest that they all swing by the Red Wolf or Rabbit Hole when he spots Emma striding down the docks carrying Henry with a terrifying look on her face. Killian’s a smart man; he knows well enough that her scowl means he won’t be dropping by the tavern anytime soon.

As she strides up the gangplank, he starts to be able to hear Henry’s cries, and his wariness turns to dread in a heartbeat. Gods, it’s only been hours since he last saw the boy, but Henry’s at that age where he’s into absolutely everything and attracted to trouble like metal to a magnet - anything might have happened.

“What’s happened, love?” he asks Emma urgently, tone and eyebrows alike relaying his frantic concern.

“What’s happened,” she replies, barely tempering her furious look to carefully shift Henry into his arms, “is Whale is a damn idiot, and I might run him through myself.”

It’s a non-sequitur, to say the least, but Killian is too concerned about Henry for the moment to concern himself with whatever his ship’s doctor might have done now.

“What’s the matter, lad?” he asks as gently as he can muster through the worry. “Are you hurt?”

Henry nods, the tears suddenly coming back in a rush. Oh, this is bad, this must be very bad if Henry’s in such a state. Out of the corner of his eye, he can spot Emma fixing Whale with a death glare, the man having wandered closer at the sound of his name and currently blanching in the face of her fury. At any other time, it’d be wildly amusing, but Killian is too concerned to give the spectacle more than a passing thought.

“Well what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I’m dying!” Henry bursts out suddenly, trying to burrow his little body into Killian’s chest like he can hide from the words. Killian, in the meantime, is thoroughly confused. The only information he’s received is that Henry is apparently dying, and Whale is an idiot in this regard. He just can’t see what the connecting information is yet, and Emma’s too far gone in her own frustration and anger to provide what that is.

“Why do you think you’re dying, Henry?” he asks. It seems the best way to get to the bottom of… whatever this is.

The lad tearfully opens his hand to reveal a tiny object that it takes Killian a moment to realize is a tooth.

“You lost a tooth, Little Mate?”

And that’s enough to send Henry into another fit of tears. “I didn’t eat my orange!” he sobs, which does not illuminate the subject in the way he seems to think it does. It must mean something to Whale, however, as he starts trying to back away before Emma stops him with a dirty look. They’ll deal with whatever he’s done later, after Killian finally gets to the bottom of this mess.

“I don’t understand, Little Mate. Why does losing your tooth mean you’re going to die, and where does the orange tie in?”

“Because Whale said if I didn’t eat my fruits and sauerkraut, my teeth would all fall out and I’d die of scurvy!”

Oh.

It suddenly all makes sense, and Killian could just throttle the man if not for the fact that he can’t afford to lose his ship’s doctor, and Henry would probably be even more traumatized. Emma’s practically seething, about to attack, a feeling Killian strongly shares. But the boy is still here, ensconced in his arms, and this isn’t the time or place to confront the imbecile Killian calls his surgeon. That will have to wait until later. It’s with no small effort that he forces himself to remain calm and smile down at Henry instead of outright exploding.

“You’re going to be just fine Henry. I lost all my baby teeth when I was around your age, and they grew back just fine. I know yours will too. Isn’t that right, Whale?” The last word is practically hissed at the man in his barely suppressed anger.

A visibly nervous Whale frantically nods before responding. “That’s exactly right, Henry, nothing to worry about, this is entirely normal.”

As Henry looks up at Killian with questioning eyes - gods, it still gets him, the way this little boy views him as the ultimate authority on everything, looks to him for confirmation and reassurance - he does his best to put on a comforting smile. “See, lad? Nothing to worry about. Dr. Whale says it’s completely normal.” After receiving an accepting nod from Henry, he spends another couple of minutes soothing the lad and drying tears before shifting to set the boy back on his feet.

“In fact,” he continues, smiling all the while, “this is very exciting! Look at you, you’re such a big boy now. I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you, Uncle Will?”

Henry perks up at the mention of a celebration, and Scarlet is smart enough to take the hint: distract Henry, and Killian will deal with whatever idiocy Whale has been spouting.

“Well of course!” Scarlet adds in. “In fact, I think this might warrant a trip down to the bakery. What do you say, Little Mate, want to go see about some pastries?”

“Mama too?”

In truth, Emma had been looking more like her afternoon plans included giving Whale a piece of her mind, and maybe a smack in the face, but she visibly softens when Henry asks his question. It’s only recently that he’s switched from calling her “Emma” to “Mama”, and Killian can just see her melt each and every time. “Of course I’ll come with, Henry, unless you want to have your outing with just Uncle Will?”

Henry shakes his head forcefully, prompting a smile form Killian. “No, you come too, Mama.”

Emma smiles, that soft smile she reserves just for the lad, and with one more look at Whale that could flay flesh from bone (and an only slightly less terrifying look at Killian that he takes to mean “You had better fix this”), the little party is off, Henry holding one each of Emma and Scarlet’s hands and chattering away about his favorite pastries, once again the enthusiastic little boy they all know and love.

Killian takes another moment to watch the small party make their way down the docks before rounding to face Whale. There’s a small amount of gratification to see how the man’s nervousness hasn’t gotten any better, and that the rest of the crew is viewing him with similarly angry and incredulous expressions.

“Would you please explain to me, Dr. Whale, why the hell you’d tell a child something like that?” he demands, finally letting the fury creep into his voice. Henry is his son, and it’s Whale’s fault that Henry was sent into near hysterics, thinking he was going to die because of some stupid, misguided comment that obviously sunk in much further than anticipated.

“Would it help if I told you there was a good reason, at the time?” Whale offers in a hesitant voice, and no, it really does not. Killian levels the other man with a look he hopes conveys exactly how unhelpful that statement is.

“Look, it was that first month he was with us, and he was being picky about his food, so I just said it to get him to eat his portion, alright?” the doctor says defensively. “I didn’t realize he’d take it to heart so much! Or, you know, not realize he’d lose his teeth naturally.”

“He was a four year old kid, you idiot. What did you expect?”

Whale just shrugs, which is about par for the course. The man may be a brilliant doctor who managed to keep an entire ship of pirates patched up, and a decent worker in the meantime, but he’s severely lacking in common sense and still unsure about how to interact with small children. This incident only deepens Killian’s resolve that, if he and Emma eventually have other children, they absolutely must be kept from spending time alone with Victor Whale for fear of the kind of ridiculousness he might put in their heads or scar them with. He probably ought to mention that to Will and Belle as well, come to think of it.

There’s definitely a part of Killian - the piece of himself that’s devoted to being a fiercely protective parent - that wants to inflict bodily harm on Whale for scaring his son like this. A punch to the face would be awfully satisfying, and it’s tempting. But Killian resolved to be a better man when he gave up the pirate life almost a year ago, and overreacting violently is part and parcel of the way of living he’s made an effort to walk away from. That doesn’t mean he can’t make Whale pay, and in this case, there’s no reason it can’t be literally.

Killian allows himself one more moment of unchecked fury towards the idiot before letting it out on a heavy sigh and jerking his head towards the gangplank. “Come on, you bloody imbecile, let’s go.”

Whale looks shocked. “You’re not going to, I don’t know, make me walk the plank or scrape barnacles or something?” he asks confusedly, hurrying to add “Not that I’m complaining…”

Killian smirks. “Oh no, I think a different sort of payment should suffice. Since Henry’s lost a tooth, he’s owed a gift at his bedside in the morning from the fairies. And you’re going to pay for it.” The steely glint in his eye expresses an unstated last clause: it won’t be anything cheap either.

Whale must hear the message loud and clear, because he sighs resignedly, shoulders slumping, and leads the way down the gangplank.

------

Henry never again worries about losing his teeth again, but that may have something to do with the intricately carved wooden ship, just like Papa’s, that he receives from the tooth fairy that first time. Two weeks later, when the second one pops out, it’s back to the toy store for Whale - a course that will become very familiar to the doctor in the coming months and years.

And if Killian and Emma try to limit Henry’s time with Whale in the future, well, it’s not entirely unwarranted.

[torestoreamends]

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic: The Vigil

11k words, G rated

Read it on AO3

Summary: Harry and Albus visit Godric's Hollow on Hallow's Eve, to join the vigil taking place outside the Potter's destroyed house.

A/N:  About a year ago I had the idea that maybe people hold a vigil outside Lily and James's house on Hallow's Eve, as a way of marking the events that took place there. I loved the image and briefly referenced it in a fic. This year, when I was thinking about what to do for my Halloween fic, I thought maybe it was time to explore the idea properly!

*

Albus comes up with the idea on Thursday morning while they’re in Herbology. He’s elbow-deep in soil, sweating having spent half an hour wrestling with the adolescent Venomous Tentacular he’s trying to repot, and for some reason Scorpius is rabbiting on about pumpkins. It’s that that makes Albus think of it.

“They’re getting really big,” Scorpius says. “There’s one that I swear is the size of your shed. It’s huge. And on Sunday night we get to see them all carved.” He gives a happy sigh. “I’m so excited. I missed the feast so much last year. I think this year I’m going to try and drown myself in food. So much food. I hope they have those chocolate hats again, you remember the ones stuffed with whipped cream, and chocolate truffle, and-“

“Do you think McGonagall would let me miss the feast?” Albus asks thoughtfully, pausing in his battle with the Tentacular to wipe the sweat and mud off his forehead. 

Scorpius steps mid-sentence, mouth open, and stares at him. His eyes go wide and he opens and closes his mouth several times, doing a remarkably accurate impression of a Gulping Plimpie.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Say that again. Because I think I just hallucinated and heard you say that you were thinking of missing the feast.”

“You weren’t hallucinating,” Albus says, slapping at the tentacle-like shoots that have started curling their way up his arm. “I said I was wondering if they’d let me miss it.”

Scorpius stares at him again, apparently at a complete loss for words. Finally he shakes his head. “But... why? All that food, Albus!”

Albus picks his trowel up and starts dumping earth onto the Tentacular’s writhing roots. The plant hisses at him and tries to snap at his fingers, but he slaps it away. “Shut up, for Merlin’s sake. You’ll be happier in the bigger pot.”

“I think it’ll be nice,” Scorpius says, absently stroking one of the tendrils of his Tentacular, so it curls up on the desk, trembling with delight. “People don’t hate us anymore, so it won’t be miserable, and-“

“I was thinking about the pumpkins,” Albus says, glancing across at Scorpius. “The ones that we saw last year. In Godric’s Hollow.” 

Scorpius twirls the tendril of his Tentacular round his finger and it snakes up his wrist. “Oh.” 

“Is it stupid to want to see them again?” He pats the earth down around his Tentacular, then uses a Watering Charm to sprinkle a gentle, rain-like shower over the plant. It shakes its leaves like a dog, splattering both Albus and Scorpius. 

Scorpius wipes the water off his face and frowns. “I don’t think it’s stupid. They were very beautiful... Do you want to go on your own? Because I don’t think that’s sensible. You told me what it was like visiting again over the summer. It’ll be worse on Halloween, won’t it?”

Albus swallows, and dusts some of the earth off his hands. He glances out of the window at the rain-sodden vegetable patch, carefully avoiding Scorpius’s gaze. The rain is pattering on the glass panes of the greenhouse, washing out the view and making it blurry. In the distance he can just make out the Whomping Willow, which is swaying its branches back and forth, but it’s obscured by the raindrops. They hit the glass and trickle down, running in rivers from the top of the roof near the ventilation shaft, right down to the soggy earth at the base of the wall. 

“There’s this... vigil,” he says, still not looking at Scorpius. “Outside the house. Outside the ruins. Dad mentioned it when he wrote to me... I think he’s thinking about going this year. And I think-“ Albus shrugs. “I think I might want to go with him. You know, see the house; the pumpkins; remember last year...”

“Does he know you’re thinking about going?” Scorpius asks.

Albus shakes his head. “I only got the letter this morning. But I might write back and ask if he can talk to McGonagall about it.” He looks at Scorpius. “Would you be lonely without me?”

Scorpius gives a small smile. “I’m always lonely without you.” He untwists his hand from the grip of the Tentacular, which wilts like it’s sad without him. He gives it a consolatory pat, then drapes the tendril into the pot and starts shovelling earth in. “I think it’s a good idea though. It won’t be easy, but you two have been doing well recently, haven’t you?”

Albus nods and flicks a tentacle away, to stop his plant trying to sting his face. “Yeah... I can’t imagine spending Hallow’s Eve away from him now. Is that strange?”

“Not at-“ Scorpius begins, but at that moment his Tentacular realises it’s being buried alive and shoots up out of the mound of earth, spraying dirt all over Scorpius. He splutters as it hits him in the face and quickly wipes it away. “Sorry,” he tells the plant. “Sorry sorry. Didn’t see you there.” The plant coils away from him, looking upset, and he sighs and puts his trowel down, turning to Albus. 

“It’s not strange, Albus. I understand, I-“ He pauses for a moment. “I actually understand perfectly. You should write to your dad about it tonight. And I-“ He turns back to his plant, wielding the trowel. “Should make friends with my Tentacular again. I think it’s having a strop with me.”

While Scorpius communes with his plant, cooing at it and stroking it until it’s back on speaking terms with him again, Albus plans his letter to his dad in his head. And by the time the bell clangs through the Greenhouse, telling them all to pack up and run to the castle for dinner, he thinks he knows what he’s going to say. At the very least, he’s determined that this Halloween will be spent in Godric’s Hollow with his dad. Just the way it should be. 

---

Albus sits cross-legged on his bed in the silent dorm, his dad’s letter smoothed out across his lap. Scorpius is at Gobstones Club, he has no idea where the other boys are, but it’s not too late on this miserable Thursday evening, so they’re probably holed up by a fire somewhere and won’t be back any time soon. The dorm is dark and cosy, and there’s a distinct comforting feeling of being underwater when it’s raining overhead; something special about the light that makes Albus feel very safe, cushioned from the outside world by the blue-green depths of the lake. 

He’s taking advantage of this rare pocket of Scorpius-free time, which he’d normally spend missing Scorpius’s noise and energy, but today has a purpose for. He’s never been very good with words, especially not when it comes to his dad. Finding the right thing to say is a nightmare, and he so often says exactly the wrong thing. But today he wants to get it right. Somehow he needs to explain that coming to the vigil on Sunday is really important to him, and he wants to explain why, but every time he tries to put quill to parchment the words dry up inside him. It’s only getting more frustrating as his free time evaporates. 

He shoves his parchment and quill away and bows his head to read his dad’s letter again. 

Dear Albus, 

I hope you’re doing well, and that James isn’t being too insufferable about the Quidditch standings. I’m sure you’ll catch up to Gryffindor soon enough.

I’ve heard the weather is awful up there. It’s pretty grim here too, but I can’t imagine it’s fun doing Care of Magical Creatures in a torrential downpour. There are some really nice, simple Waterproofing Charms that Fawcett told me about if you need any recommendations, although I’m sure you and Scorpius have it covered between you. 

It’s Hallow’s Eve on Sunday. I bet the preparations for the feast are going well. How big are the pumpkins now? 

I was actually thinking of going to Godric’s Hollow on Sunday. I normally try to avoid it on Hallow’s Eve – too many people about – but this feels like a good year to go, especially after everything that happened last year... 

Do you remember that vigil we saw when we came back to our time, with all the people outside the house? I think I’d like to see it, properly this time, not just from a distance. I’ve been curious about the people who go and remember my parents every year. 

I haven’t run the idea past your mum yet. I’m not even sure if I will – if I went to the vigil I might not have time to come and see you; we’re not Apparating back from the Grindylow job until lunchtime. 

I hope you know that I miss you, especially now Hallow’s Eve is nearly here. I love you very much, and I can’t wait to see you soon. 

Constant vigilance. 

Love, Dad

It should be such an easy response to write: Hi, Dad. You should go to the vigil and I’ll meet you there. I hope the Grindylows go okay. Love, Albus. It really is just that simple. But at the same time it really isn’t that simple. There’s no good way of putting all his thoughts into words. There are some things he just can’t say. 

Sometimes I still think about Grandma tucking you up under the blanket, and how I thought I would die before I got chance to tell you how much she loved you.

Whenever I remember that it’s Halloween on Sunday I remember the ash falling on us all like snow, and I just want to find you and hug you and tell you I’m sorry. 

I wish I could take you back in time again and show you your parents, and your beautiful house, and your cat. I wish you could know them. 

I want to go to Godric’s Hollow with you because it was where we started fixing things, and I’m really glad we did. I’m really happy that you’re my dad. 

The second he phrases any of it out in his head it sounds stupid and childish and ridiculous. It all sounds forced, like that’s what he thinks he’s supposed to say, but it isn’t actually what he means. Why is it so hard to write words down and have them mean what he wants them to mean?

Frustrated, he crumples the bit of parchment he’s been trying to start his letter on into a ball and hurls it at the fireplace. It bounces off the mantelpiece and rolls across the emerald green hearth rug. With an irritable growl, Albus drags himself off the bed and stalks across to the fireplace to snatch up the parchment. This time when he throws it, the ball lands perfectly in the middle of the flames and begins to char and burn as flames curl across it. Albus stares into the heart of the fire, and-

The fire. 

Maybe he’s doing this all wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t try to write everything down. Maybe he should just call his dad and tell him. Wouldn’t that be easier? At least then he’d be forced to say something. It might not be what he wants to say, but it would be better than staring at a blank bit of parchment for the next three hours. 

There’s Floo Powder on top of the mantelpiece, and he takes a pinch and holds it in his hand. Some of it cascades between his fingers, making a mess on the ash-strewn hearth.

For a moment he stands there, indecisive and uncertain, then he throws caution to the winds and tips the Floo Powder into the flames. He kneels down on the rug and sticks his head into the fire. 

“Holly Cottage,” he says, as clearly as he can without getting a mouthful of ash. Immediately his head begins to spin, and he squeezes his eyes shut until the motion stops and he can open them to see his parents’ front room. 

His dad isn’t there, but his mum is. She’s sitting on the sofa by the fire, reading a book, but apparently she hears the little pop as he arrives because she glances into the flames and her eyes widen as she recognises him.

“Albus!” She sets her book aside and rushes to the fireside, kneeling on the rug so she’s at his level. “This is a nice surprise. I didn’t know you were planning to call. Is everything okay?”

Albus nods. “I’m okay, Mum. Everything’s fine.” He opens his mouth to ask to speak to his dad, but then backs out at the last second. “How are you?”

She smiles. “I’m well. It’s been a busy day at work, and the weather is playing havoc with the match schedules. But on the whole it’s not too bad. Has James stopped gloating about Saturday yet?”

Albus rolls his eyes. “James never stops gloating about anything. I’ve been avoiding him.”

“That’s very wise. I’m sure he’ll calm down soon enough.”

“Yeah,” Albus says absently. He shuffles his knees on the floor and thinks about how this time last year he had no idea what the Quidditch scores even were. Panju had tried to drag him to a match in the other world, but he’d refused. And by the time he was back in his own world, Quidditch had been the last thing on his mind. A lot has changed in a year. A lot has changed. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His mum asks, and he becomes aware that she’s frowning at him, one hand outstretched to him like she wants to reach for him through the fire. 

He swallows and nods. It’s time to just get on and do this. No more messing around. “I-I’m okay,” he says softly. “I was actually... I was wondering if I can talk to Dad?” 

His mum scrutinises him. He can feel her trying to read him across the miles, and he avoids her gaze, because he still doesn’t know what he wants to say, and he doesn’t want to give her any inkling of what’s going on in his head. After several seconds, she pushes herself onto her knees. 

“He’s just upstairs. I’ll go and get him.”

She disappears from the room and Albus tries to gather himself together. It’s just his dad. It’s just a nice thing to do for Hallow’s Eve. It’s nothing scary or difficult. It shouldn’t even be that hard to propose; it was his dad’s idea first. There’s nothing for him to worry about.

By the time he hears his dad’s footsteps on the stairs his hands are shaking. He doesn’t know how they can shake when they’re planted firmly on the hard stone hearth and they’re all that’s keeping him upright, but they’re managing it. He also feels a little bit sick, but that might be the motion sickness from getting here finally catching up to him, or it might be that he’s swallowed too much ash.  Either way, he hasn’t managed to calm down much. 

His dad is still dressed for work, but he doesn’t look put together. His glasses are askew and there’s a bit of hair on top of his head that’s sticking bolt upright. The rest of it is puffed up and jutting out at odd angles, like he’s raked his hands through it multiple times. Albus guesses he’s been reading papers for the Grindylow mission. Nothing makes his dad look stressed like paperwork. 

His dad strides across the room and throws himself down in front of the fireplace, an expression of deepest concern on his face. Albus panics. 

“I’m fine,” he says, before realising that he hasn’t even managed to greet his dad. Now he just sounds suspicious. He groans. “I really am, I promise. I just wanted to talk.”

“On a Thursday evening while Scorpius is at Gobstones and you’re alone in your dorm,” Harry says, because he isn’t the best Auror in a generation for nothing. Sometimes he works things out. 

Albus sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I got your letter,” he says. “I wanted to talk about it.”

Harry frowns. “Oh yeah?”

Albus nods. “Yeah...” He pauses and there’s a long, expectant silence in which his dad looks at him and waits. Eventually Albus decides he should probably carry on talking. 

“I, um... the vigil you were talking about... Are you still thinking of going?”

Harry sits back on his heels. “Oh!” Apparently that wasn’t what he was expecting. “I’m not sure. We’re not expecting the Grindylows to go smoothly so we might be there a bit longer than planned. I don’t want to not visit you if we’re running late. You’re more important.”

Albus feels very warm all of a sudden, and he’s not sure it’s just from the fire. He always feels like this when his dad says something nice to him, like he’s not sure where to go or what to do, confused and trapped but happy all at once. 

He swallows and nods. “Okay...”

“Why do you ask?”

Albus looks at his dad and discovers that his mouth has gone dry and he can’t really speak. He swallows again and takes a breath. When he inhales he gets a mouthful of soot and has to suffer through a brief coughing fit before he can have a second go at talking. 

“I, um-“ he says, voice sounding choked from the ash. “I was thinking that-“ He coughs again, then struggles on. “Maybe we could- maybe it would be nice to- The vigil- I wanted to go too. You know. With you. If you decide to go.” He breaks off and starts coughing again, which is actually welcome because it means he doesn’t have to see his dad’s reaction. When he finally recovers, eyes watering and throat dry, he sees that his dad is offering him a bottle of water using the fire tongs. 

“Drink something,” his dad advises. “It’ll help.”

Albus hesitates for a second, then he opens his mouth and takes a careful drink of water, trying not to let it spill everywhere. 

“Better?” Harry asks.

Albus nods. “Better. Thanks, Dad.”

Harry puts the water bottle and fire tongs down, and looks at Albus. “Do you really want to come with me?”

Albus looks back at him and nods. “Yeah. I-I do. I think it’s- It feels important. And it would mean you can go to the vigil and see me. You wouldn’t have to choose...” He trails off, looking hopefully out of the fire at his dad. 

Harry sits on his heels and looks at the hearth, a tiny crease in his forehead. “I didn’t think you’d want to go. I just assumed- If I’d known I would have invited you.” He looks at Albus. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of it before. Of course you can come. Of course we can go to the vigil together. I can’t believe you actually- Are you sure you want to do this?”

Albus gives an emphatic nod. “I really am sure. Really really.”

Harry looks at him like he’s a conundrum, then gives his head a little shake and unleashes a bright smile. “Well in that case I’ll have to make doubly sure the Grindylows are finished on time.”

“If we get there early enough we could watch them lighting the pumpkins,” Albus says. “I hope they still do that. It was beautiful. All these rivers of people filling the streets with all these pumpkins... I’d like to show you that.”

Harry’s smile widens and he nods. “Yeah, I’d like to see that too. I’d like to see it with you.”

“I think it could be good,” Albus says. “For the two of us.”

“Definitely,” Harry says, with his most emphatic nod yet. “Definitely. I’ve never been more excited for it to be Hallow’s Eve.”

Albus grins, and he feels as though someone has cast Wingardium Leviosa on him and he’s weightless, floating light as a feather in his delight. This has gone even better than he hoped. 

“So,” he says, deciding to change the subject before he discovers that this is all too good to be true. “What are you doing with the Grindylows?”

Harry launches into a lengthy explanation about a recent flurry of attacks in a town on the edge of a Scottish loch, and how the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had tried to rehouse them but they’d just come back, so now a small team of Aurors is going in to put up protective charms around the harbour and ward off the Grindylows once and for all. 

The conversation stretches on and on, and Albus asks question after question, each one feeling like a little bubble of happiness floating up inside him, because he has his dad’s rapt attention, and he still isn’t entirely used to it yet but it’s wonderful. They must have lost all track of time though, because suddenly Albus hears the door open and Scorpius’s voice saying his name.

Albus glances round at him. “I’m talking to Dad. Is it that late already?”

Scorpius nods. “One hour until curfew. The others might be back soon.” He walks over to the fireplace and crouches down next to Albus, sticking his head into the green flames. “Hi, Harry!”

Harry smiles. “Hello, Scorpius.” He looks at Albus. “I should let you go. Don’t you have homework?”

Albus grins. “Only Defence Against the Dark Arts. It’s easier to just chat to you.”

Harry shakes his head. “Go and do your homework. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

Albus sighs. “Fine. Bye, Dad.”

“I love you. Be good.”

Albus’s grin splits his face. “I’ll do my best.” He gives a little wave, then pulls his head out of the fire and falls back onto the hearth rug, the world spinning around him from the disorienting journey back. 

“He’ll see you on Sunday,” Scorpius says. “You’re definitely missing the feast then?”

Albus picks himself up and dusts soot out of his hair. “It looks like it.” He looks at Scorpius. “Will you be lonely?”

Scorpius gives a little smile. “It’ll be weird. Spending Hallow’s Eve without you. Especially after last year. But...” He shrugs. “It’s important for you to spend it with your dad. You should have some time to think about your grandparents, and everything that happened. I’m glad you two get to spend it together.”

Albus picks at the sleeve of his hoodie. “It’s not because I don’t want to spend it with you. You know that, right?” He glances at Scorpius, then away again, out towards the murky green water beyond the window. “If there was anyone in the world I could spend it with, it would be you or dad. I hate choosing between you. I’m sorry.”

Scorpius smiles. “Albus, I know there’s no choice here. If it were a choice between you and my dad I think I’d choose my dad too. That’s just... How it is I suppose. It took us so long to figure things out with them. I think we should take every chance we get. I think you should take every chance you get. And don’t feel guilty about leaving me.” He grins and gives Albus a friendly punch on the arm. “Without you there’ll just be a little bit more food for me to eat.”

Albus nudges him. “You’ll have to save me some sweets. Maybe we can have our own midnight feast when I get back.”

“Do you really think there’ll be leftovers by the time I’m done?” Scorpius asks, eyes alight with mischief. “Uh, nope! I don’t intend on leaving even a scrap on that table.”

“Well in that case I’m glad I’m not going to be here,” Albus says. “I won’t have to deal with you while you’re throwing up.”

Scorpius laughs and flops down onto the hearth rug, so his feet are pointing to the fire. He rubs his stomach and gives a happy sigh. “I can taste it already. It’s going to be beautiful.”

Albus lies down next to him and rolls onto his side, so he can look at Scorpius, who’s practically glowing in the firelight. “You are aware that you’re ridiculous?”

Scorpius opens one eye and grins at him. “Very much so.” 

“Good.” Albus falls onto his front and kicks his feet up in the air, resting his chin on his hands. He stares into the shadowy space under his bed and a wave of nervous excitement creeps through him. “Do you think it’ll be weird?” He asks. “Going back there? I know I went over the summer, but... it’s different if it’s on Hallow’s Eve... It’s more...” He shakes his head, at a loss for the right words. 

“Potent?” Scorpius suggests. “But cathartic.”

Albus gives him a sideways look. “Have you been reading the dictionary again?”

Scorpius bumps their shoulders together. “No. I’m just saying, you’re almost making me wish I was going too. I’d like to take my dad back there sometime...” He trails off, and his gaze becomes opaque as he stares at a spot on the ground just a few feet away, like he’s lost somewhere else, probably Godric’s Hollow one year ago.

“You should go,” Albus murmurs, glancing at him, watching the shadows flicker across his face as the flames dance behind them, bathing him in a warm orange glow. It makes Albus think of the flames from a year ago, the fire of the battle, and Scorpius crouching behind his dad, clinging to his waist, small and scared but strong. Trusting. Somehow knowing, just like Albus had, that they’d be okay as long as their dads were there. 

“You should go and tell him all about the history, and find the spot where he hugged you, and-“

“I’ll think about it,” Scorpius says, and his voice is soft and a little bit broken. He blinks several times, and his eyes sparkle like stars. He sniffs and pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Anyway.” He pushes a bright smile onto his face and reaches across to pat Albus on the shoulder. “Our Defence Against the Dark Arts homework won’t do itself. I need you to tell me everything your dad has ever told you about werewolves.”

Albus sits up and brushes ash and Floo Powder off his pyjama top. “I can do better. James stole all Teddy’s notes and essays on werewolves from fifth year, and I stole them from James. They got full marks. I’m sure we can do something with those.”

“I love your family,” Scorpius says happily, hopping up off the floor and offering Albus a hand up too. “Let’s engage in some creative adaptation.”

---

At mid-afternoon on Sunday, Albus and Scorpius sit side by side on the front steps of the castle, wrapped up in their thick winter cloaks. Albus has a bobble hat stuffed on his head and a scarf wound tight round his neck. Scorpius insisted he was good at handling the cold and didn’t need either. He’s now shivering and huddling against Albus’s side for warmth. Albus isn’t even bothering to gloat. He knows Scorpius has already learned his lesson, even if he’s too proud to admit it right now.

The sky overhead is a very bright blue, and there’s a weak sun shining down on the grounds, making the choppy grey waters of the lake glitter. The Giant Squid is splashing in the shallows, tentacles curling and writhing, and in the distance Albus can see the skeletal shape of one of the Thestrals grazing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He shivers and presses closer to Scorpius, who takes the opportunity to hug his arm for more warmth. 

“How long is your dad going to be?” Scorpius asks, teeth chattering. “I might turn into an ice cube before he gets here.

“You don’t have to wait,” Albus says. “Go inside and keep warm.”

Scorpius shakes his head. “No. I said I’d sit with you and I’m not backing out now. Anyway look, we can keep an eye on the pumpkins.”

He points to where a couple of the teachers are standing by the pumpkin patch, casting charms to carve intricate and beautiful patterns into the faces of some of the biggest pumpkins Albus has ever seen in his life. 

“Do you think we could do that?” Scorpius asks. 

“You could do that,” Albus says. “I know I’m good at charms but I’m not that good. I’m not very good at artistic stuff anyway, even if I could do the spells.”

“You don’t have to be good to do pumpkin carving,” Scorpius says. “The whole point is to have fun. That’s what Mum used to say anyway. Dad would make it a competitive sport. Dad makes everything competitive.”

Albus smiles. “I actually miss carving pumpkins. We used to sit in the kitchen at home and do it, and Mum would make us spiced hot chocolate. Dad taught us to do it the Muggle way, and James used to hate getting all the pulp on his hands.”

Scorpius pulls a face. “The pulp is the best bit. James has no sense of fun.”

“James is boring,” Albus agrees, throwing a glance up in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. “Maybe next year we should carve pumpkins together. We could do it by magic and call it N.E.W.T. practice.”

Scorpius grins and holds his fist out to Albus. “You’re on.”

Albus taps his knuckles against Scorpius’s and leans comfortably into his side, draping an arm round his back. Scorpius nestles in closer, still shivering, and Albus rubs his shoulder to warm him up. 

As they sit there, Albus gazes off in the direction of the gates and tries not to worry too much about his dad arriving; what he’ll do, what he’ll say. He hasn’t thought this through at all. Why didn’t he consider this before he asked if he could go? He has to spend a whole afternoon with his dad, alone, trapped among all their emotional baggage and history. And with that thought his mouth starts to go dry, and there isn’t quite enough air anymore, and he’s tempted to run and send an owl to his dad to tell him not to come even though it wouldn’t get there on time, and-

“Albus, your dad’s here! I can see him!” Scorpius pops up off the step, using Albus’s shoulder to push off from, which hurts.

“Scorpius,” Albus groans, brushing his hand off. 

“Sorry!” Scorpius chirps as he skips down the drive in Harry’s direction. 

Albus rubs his shoulder and follows at a more sedate pace, a faint nausea gathering in the pit of his stomach. By the time he catches up, Scorpius is talking at a million miles an hour and Harry is rubbing his forehead and looking slightly bemused, the way he always does when faced with Scorpius.

Albus walks up next to Scorpius and puts a hand on his arm. Scorpius falls quiet immediately and Albus swallows.

“Hi,” he says softly. 

Harry gathers his travelling cloak, the same one he’d been wearing when he came to rescue them last year, tight around himself and gives Albus a small smile. “Hi.”

“How were the Grindylows?” Albus asks, because it’s all he can think of to say.

Harry pushes his glasses up his nose and nods. “Better now. Hopefully we’ve managed to ward them off for good. It’s a big loch; they don’t even have to move that far.”

Albus smiles. “I guess you’ll find out soon.” He turns to Scorpius who is now bouncing from foot to foot, and it’s difficult to tell if he’s overexcited or freezing cold. “I hope you have a good feast,” he says.

Scorpius nods. “I’ll see you later.” He steps in and wraps Albus in a tight hug, and Albus can’t stop himself from returning it. He squeezes Scorpius and buries his face in his shoulder. 

“Happy Halloween,” he says, and Scorpius rubs his back. 

“I hope it is.”

“Just don’t get hypothermia and it will be,” Albus advises, pulling back and patting Scorpius on the arm. “Go and thaw out. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Scorpius nods, gives Harry a wave, then disappears back into the castle, leaving Harry and Albus alone on the windswept drive. 

Albus looks up at his dad, and Harry looks back, then he seems to shake himself. 

“Shall we go?” He says. “We can Apparate from outside the gates. We should be there early enough to get hot chocolate or something before it gets dark.”

“Okay,” Albus says, steadying himself. It’s going to be okay. Of course it is. His dad is here.

---

Albus stumbles sideways and gasps in a lungful of frigid afternoon air. His dad squeezes his arm to stop him falling.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks. 

Albus nods and takes another deep breath. “Fine. I don’t really like Apparating.”

“It’s not the nicest thing in the world,” Harry agrees. He reaches across and adjusts Albus’s hood, smoothing it down against his back. 

Albus shuffles his feet, reassuring himself of the hard ground beneath him, and begins to feel a little more safe and grounded. He looks around at where they’ve arrived to, and discovers that they’re outside the back door of the church. There are old flower arranging buckets stuffed with wilting flowers, and chunks of green foam with little holes in. There are candle stubs, and cardboard boxes, and a grit bin standing against one wall.

“People only come out here to throw things away,” Harry says, and Albus doesn’t question how he knows that. 

Beyond the edge of the little concrete square they’re standing on, the grass is growing, long and studded with raindrops – it must have rained here recently, the stone wall of the church looks damp, the cardboard boxes are a bit soggy, and the abandoned buckets are filling up with water. Nestled among the grass are hundreds of gravestones, covered with a patchwork of moss and lichen, in green and gold and white. Albus knows that his grandparents’ grave lies among them, on the other side of the church, ten rows back from the gate and five across. 

“Are we going to-“ Albus says, at the same time as Harry begins: “Do you think we should-“ They both break off and look at each other. Harry gestures over his shoulder, and Albus knows he’s pointing at that point beyond the church. 

“The grave,” he says. “Do you want to go and visit them?”

Albus nods. “I think we should. While we’re here.”

Together they make their way down the gravel path that runs round the front of the church. Albus glances up as they pass, gazing at the stained glass windows that stand tall and proud behind the altar. They must have been repaired over the years, because the panes are much more clean and vibrantly coloured than he remembers. The window burns like fire as the sun sets in a blaze of orange and red and gold behind them. He wants to turn round and go through the back door of the church, to stand and look at the colours that must be flooding the space, to try and find the grate he’d crawled through, the char marks on the floor from the battle, and the room where he’d sat and listened at the door as his dad hissed Parseltongue at Delphi. It all happened so long ago, but really not long ago at all, and it feels so painfully present when he’s here. 

It’s an effort to drag his gaze away from the windows, but he manages it. He has to hurry up to keep pace with his dad, and he follows when Harry leads the way off the path and between the gravestones. Their feet kick up sprays of water as they walk, droplets coating their shoes and the hems of their trousers and cloaks. 

Finally they stop in front of the grave. It’s unmarked by moss or lichen, and it’s unweathered, like no time has passed at all since it was put there. The white marble shines under the golden light of the setting autumn sun, and Albus digs his hands into his pockets in an attempt to resist the urge to reach out and trace the names of his grandparents, which are carved into the stone. 

“I never found out who did this,” Harry says, gesturing to the grave. “Sometimes I wonder if it was Dumbledore, but I‘ll probably never know.”

“Did they enchant it?” Albus asks, glancing at the graves on either side, which are cracked and crumbling and being eaten up by ivy. “To keep it so clean?”

Harry nods. “They must have. I almost wish they hadn’t. It still looks like they could have died yesterday.”

Yesterday. A year ago. Forty years. It almost doesn’t matter when it was if it still hurts, Albus thinks. He reaches across and brushes his fingers against his dad’s arm, wanting to offer him some comfort. His dad glances at him, then wraps an arm round his shoulder and hugs him. 

Albus crumples against his side and hugs him in return, squeezing him round the middle with both arms and clinging to him. He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so sad about two people he’s never met properly. It’s not having known them that’s making it worse. 

He thinks about his grandma, tucking the blanket around his dad, pushing the pram down the snowy street, pausing to give him a bemused wave. She’d looked so nice. She’d looked so good, so beautiful, so brave. She’d looked the way a parent should look, like she was gentle and caring and patient, like the love was pouring out of her. 

Albus lifts his head and looks up at his dad, who’s staring at the grave, eyes sparkling like emeralds in the conflagration of the setting sun. 

“Dad,” he murmurs. “You know I love you, right?”

His dad looks at him, and his expression is unreadable, obscured by the shadow and sunlight. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I know.” He ruffles Albus’s hair, then gathers him in and holds him. Albus buries his face in his dad’s shoulder, twisting his hands into the thick woollen folds of the travelling cloak. 

There are a million things that Albus wants to say at that moment, but it’s easier to just stay quiet and hold tight to his dad’s cloak and enjoy the feeling of the dying sunlight on him. He swallows and shuffles his feet, and eventually they pull away. 

Harry glances down at the grave. “I am still sorry,” he says. “I always will be sorry. About the things I said to you. Making you feel like I didn’t love you; like you weren’t part of the family. It’s not true, and-“

“Dad,” Albus interjects softly. “I know.”

Harry doesn’t stop. “I do love you, with everything I’ve got. You’re my son. Better than that, you’re their grandson. I can see it every time I look at you. I can hear it every time you speak. You’re brilliant, Albus.”

“You can tell you’re their son too,” Albus says, looking at the grave. “I think they’d have been proud of you.”

His dad looks at him, a very long look, soft with surprise and love, and glazed with a thin film of tears. He doesn’t seem to know what to say, so Albus smiles at him, then digs his hands into his pockets and looks around.

“Why do we always have conversations like this while standing in a graveyard?”

Harry gives a slightly squelchy laugh and takes his glasses off while he wipes his face with his handkerchief. “You know what? That’s a very good question.”

Albus thinks about Scorpius. “Maybe that’s just what dead loved ones do to you... They make you more...” He gestures vaguely with his hand, unsure of the right word. 

“They make you appreciate the people you have,” Harry says, looking at Albus. Albus looks back at him and nods. 

They stand in front of the grave for a bit longer while Harry blows his nose and cleans his glasses, and the sun sets in front of them. Once the shadows of the graves have begun to stretch all the way to the stone wall of the graveyard, and darkness is really looming, they make their way back to the little gravel path that runs around the edge of the church, and head for the village square. 

As they walk towards the brightly-lit pub and the dark silhouette of the war memorial that’s actually a statue of Harry and James and Lily, they see doors begin to open along the lane up ahead, spilling out shafts of light. Albus catches hold of his dad’s arm and points.

“Look.”

They both stop dead and watch as people emerge, holding pumpkins under their arms. They leave their houses in twos or threes, chatting to their neighbours and smiling and laughing, and when they get to the lane they leave the pumpkins sitting just outside their gates, so they form a long river of light up the lane and away into the distance. A hundred carved faces, smiling out of the darkness and glowing gold, so the whole village is lit up, bright and friendly and cheerful. A tiny, mundane little village, transformed into the sort of place where evil is defeated and darkness is pushed out of the world. 

Albus looks at Harry, who grins at him, and there’s no real need to say anything when they both know what the other is thinking. This place is special, it’s beautiful, and they’re glad to be here tonight of all nights.

“I think we have time to get some dinner before the vigil,” Harry says, nodding towards the pub. 

“Yes please,” Albus says. It feels like a very long time since lunch, and he can’t quite stop thinking about the feast that’s being prepared at Hogwarts right now, that Scorpius will be sitting down to enjoy soon. 

They eat mostly in silence, listening to the buzz of conversation around them. The pub is busy enough for a Sunday night, full of locals discussing the best pumpkin carvings that they’ve seen so far, complaining about having to go to work in the morning, looking forward to Bonfire Night next weekend. It’s comforting listening to the bustle of ordinary life going on around them, especially when it’s combined with good food and flagons of Butterbeer. 

It’s amazing how normal Godric’s Hollow is, Albus thinks, considering all the extraordinary things that have happened here, and all the people who’ve lived in this place. It doesn’t seem like it should be possible for it to exist like this: as an ordinary village full of normal people living standard, unexciting lives – not when it’s had such a huge impact on the world, and on his family. 

“Are you eating the rest of your chips?” Harry asks, nodding at the abandoned pile at the edge of Albus’s plate.

Albus shakes his head. “No, you can have them.” He glances around at the people sitting near them, at the two men who are talking about gardening, at the group of women complaining about their bosses, at the young family who are making whooshing noises as they spoon food into their baby’s mouth. It’s so surreal, that life still goes on here. 

“Dad,” he says softly, after a minute or two of looking. 

Harry dips a chip into Albus’s leftover ketchup and nods. “Yeah?”

“Did you ever think of coming back here? You know, to live? Did you and Mum ever think of getting a house here or anything?”

Harry munches the chip for a moment, then he wipes his hands on a napkin. “I used to,” he says. “A little bit. But I don’t think I could have done it. I think we’re happier where we are. Why do you ask?”

Albus shrugs and takes one last chip from the pile. “Just wondering. I’m glad we’re in Ottery St Catchpole. It would have been weird being here. It doesn’t seem possible that you could just live here and be normal.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

Together they finish the chips, then they leave the pub and head out into the frigid evening, following the ribbon of candlelight cast by the pumpkins across the square, past the memorial, and up the road. 

As they approach the ruined house they both start to slow down. Albus’s stomach is fluttering with nerves, and his dad is staring up ahead, pale and uncertain-looking.

“Dad,” Albus says softly. “Do you think we should... I don’t know, disguise ourselves...? People will recognise you.”

Harry glances at him and nods. “Maybe that’s a good idea. We can Disillusion ourselves. If we stand at the back we won’t be in anyone’s way.”

“Okay,” Albus agrees. 

Disillusionment is such a strange feeling. Albus shivers at the trickling cold down the back of his neck and lifts his hand, watching as it disappears before his eyes. He reaches out to touch his dad’s arm, just so he knows where he is, and ends up holding onto him as they set off down the street again. He doesn’t want to lose him or bump into him. 

Their approach to the vigil is silent and unseen. There are already a handful of people there when they arrive, all lighting candles and talking quietly. The person nearest the gate keeps glancing over their shoulder at the house, and one of their hands is resting on the mossy garden wall. Albus presses closer to his dad’s side, unsure what to do or what to say. 

Harry touches his side and guides him over to the wall, so they’re well out of the way. “Let’s stand over here.”

Albus leans against the wall and hugs himself. It’s starting to get really cold, almost as cold as it was on this night all those years ago. There’s no snow, but frost is sparkling on the ground in the candlelight, and the moon has a halo of ice crystals around it, making it look misty and diffuse. His breath fogs in the air when he exhales, and he hides his face in his scarf and turns around to look at the ruin of the house behind them. 

Most of it, at least the ground floor, is intact, although it’s overgrown with ivy that’s crept over the windows and door, obscuring them, a mass of greenery – Albus wonders if in summer there might even be climbing flowers that cling to these walls and make them bright and vibrant. The upper floor is half destroyed. The room that was once Harry’s bedroom is on the edge of the house, so the whole corner has been blown away. There’s a ragged hole where the walls should be, and the roof is mostly gone, leaving just bare beams, crumbling brick, and cracked tiles. Albus can see the night sky between the remaining fragments of wood and tiles. The stars are out, and it’s cloudless. 

Albus reaches out and finds his dad’s hand. He squeezes it tight as all the memories of last Hallow’s Eve come flooding back to him. The cold, cruel laughter, Lily and James begging and screaming for his dad’s life, his mum’s grip tight on the back of his jacket, his dad shaking and crying next to him, the ash and rubble falling all around them as they stood in the street. 

“Are you alright?” His dad murmurs. 

Albus doesn’t reply, he just tightens his grip and turns away from the house, not wanting to think about it anymore. 

The crowd gathering around the garden gate has swelled in the last couple of minutes. There are almost twenty people now, with more joining the group all the time, and soft, flickering pinpricks of light are spreading between them as they light their candles. The talk is dying down and there’s an energy in the air, a sort of potent emotion that doesn’t need articulating in words to be understood. 

As the crowd grows, Harry pulls Albus back further from the house, away from the wall, and across to the other side of the road, so they’re standing apart from everyone else. Albus wishes he could see his dad, because he can’t tell what he’s thinking. He can feel his dad’s hand shaking, but he doesn’t know what that means, whether it’s from the cold, or whether he’s nervous or upset. 

“Dad,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice as low as possible, so no one in the gathering crowd notices them. “You’re shaking.”

“All these people,” Harry breathes, voice unsteady. “Here for them.”

Albus hugs him. It takes a second to find exactly where his body is, but then he buries his face in his dad’s shoulder. His dad’s arms fold around him and hold him tight. His fingers brush through Albus’s hair, and Albus feels him press a kiss to his forehead. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Harry says softly. “I’m glad I’m not here on my own.”

“We don’t have to stay,” Albus murmurs. “We don’t have to be here.”

“Do you want to go?” Harry asks, pulling back and holding Albus by the shoulders.

Albus thinks again about standing in this road last year: he thinks about the battle, the heat of the flames and Delphi’s voice shouting the Killing Curse, he thinks about Scorpius grasping his arm to steady him, and he thinks about a distant warm hall full of good food and laughter. But he also thinks about his dad, standing here alone in front of the ruined house. And as much as he wants to walk away and go back to school and find Scorpius, he can’t, because right now the most important thing is to be here with his dad. 

“No,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “I want to stay.”

His dad hugs him again, hard and tight, stroking his hair. They cling to each other for several long minutes, giving each other comfort and love, then Albus pulls back and wipes his nose on his sleeve, glad that it’s dark and that he’s invisible so no one can see the tears on his face.

“I wish Scorpius was here,” he sniffs, mopping at his cheeks. “I wish that...” He trails off as through the blur of his tears, he sees a pair of figures walking down the street from the outskirts at town. The taller one wears black robes; the shorter is wearing jeans, a green jacket, and a green and silver bobble hat. They both have white blond hair that seems to shine in the moonlight. They both look uncertain, pressed close together, footsteps slow and cautious as they approach the ruined house.

“Dad,” Albus says, and now his voice really does break. He swallows hard and nudges his dad’s arm. “Please can you make me visible again?”

His dad shifts next to him, turning around. “Why do you- Oh.”

Albus tugs on his dad’s sleeve, and as he looks down the road at his best friend the tears start to overwhelm him. “Please,” he begs, because if there’s one thing he needs right now then it’s a hug from Scorpius.

“Yes, I- Yes.” 

There’s a brief pause, then Albus feels warmth creep up his spine as the spell dissolves, and he doesn’t hesitate for another second. He sets off running, past the crowd, not caring that people are turning to stare as he flies by seemingly from nowhere. All his focus is on Scorpius, and on getting to him as quickly as he can, and hugging him as tightly as possible. 

“Al-“ Scorpius begins as Albus runs to him, but he doesn’t get to finish the name before Albus is leaping at him and crushing him in a hug. They both stumble back several steps before Scorpius gets his footing. 

“Albus!” He says. “You’re strangling me, you-“

“You should be at the feast,” Albus sobs. “But you’re here, and- You’re here.”

“Yes,” Scorpius says, patting him on the back. “Yes I am here, but if you strangle me to death then I might not be here much longer.” He takes hold of Albus’s arms and picks him off, then studies him. “You’re a mess. Dad, can he have a tissue?”

Draco hesitates, still seeming rather taken aback by Albus’s sudden appearance from thin air, but then he nods and draws his wand, giving it a flick to conjure a tissue, which he hands to Albus. 

“Thanks,” Albus sniffs as he takes it and starts wiping his eyes. 

“Why are you crying?” Scorpius asks. “I mean, I suppose that’s obvious, but- Where’s your dad?”

“I’m here,” Harry says, walking up to them and putting a hand on Albus’s shoulder. Albus glances up and sees that he’s visible too now. He also sees that every single person by the house is looking at them and whispering. 

“Hi, Harry,” Scorpius says. 

“Hello, Scorpius.” Harry releases Albus’s shoulder. “Hello, Draco.”

“Is it alright?” Draco asks immediately. “Us being here? It was Scorpius’s idea, but I wasn’t sure whether- You know how much I hate to intrude on your personal life, Potter.”

Harry does a double take. “Do you? I’ve never noticed before.”

Albus stops wiping his eyes in time to see Draco shuffle his feet and look sheepish. 

“All I’m saying is that we can leave if you’d like. Or I can. I’m sorry we didn’t-“

“You were here,” Harry says, cutting across him. “That night. So you can be here now. And you don’t need to apologise. You’re both welcome.”

Draco pauses before nodding. “Good. We’ll stay then.” There’s another pause, then Draco glances at the staring crowd and puts a hand on Scorpius’s shoulder to shepherd him down the road. “We’re causing a disruption,” he says. “We should go and stand with everyone else. Come on, Scorpius.”

Albus walks beside Scorpius as they join the group, and Harry walks beside Draco. Albus is still wiping his eyes, and he notices Scorpius watching him, with a slightly concerned look. Albus glances at him and smiles. 

“You’re wearing a hat now,” he says, reaching up to tweak Scorpius’s bobble. “I thought you were good at handling the cold?”

“I am good at handling it,” Scorpius says, lifting his chin and making himself look all lofty. “I’m handling it by wearing a hat.”

Albus smiles and nudges him. “You definitely look warmer now.”

“I feel a lot warmer,” Scorpius says, linking arms with Albus. He looks across at him and lowers his voice as they join the back of the crowd. “Are you okay? Has it been alright?”

Albus glances back at his dad and nods. “It’s been good. I just realised that it was weird being here without you.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Scorpius says, giving his arm a squeeze. 

Albus looks at the silver shine of his eyes, the frostbitten blush of his cheeks, the sudden intense seriousness of his expression. “I-I know,” he breathes, voice catching in his throat. “Thank you.” 

For a long moment they look at each other, and Albus doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He almost doesn’t remember how to breathe anymore, and he certainly doesn’t know how to look away and save himself. Fortunately Scorpius looks away first, fracturing whatever it was that was passing between them. He gestures in Harry and Draco’s direction. 

“Do you think we should go and stand with our dads?”

Albus nods and turns away, now feeling very hot, cheeks burning. He hurries to stand by his dad, but he doesn’t miss Scorpius exhaling, cheeks puffed out and very pink, and running a hand through his hair. Maybe he wasn’t alone in feeling – whatever that was.

He doesn’t have long to think about that though, because as he tucks himself against his dad’s side at the back of the crowd, someone comes weaving toward them through all the people, most of whom are still staring. He feels his dad tense up slightly, and Albus understands why. This is the reason they planned to be invisible: people recognising them, picking them out of the crowd, wanting to see and speak to them, to offer condolences.

The woman stops in front of them, clutching a box full of candles. She looks nervous and uncertain, but she smiles. 

“Mr Potter-“

“Harry,” Harry says, and Albus presses a tiny bit closer to him, wanting to try and protect him somehow from whatever’s about to be asked of him. 

“Yes,” the woman says. “Harry, Albus. Um,” she hesitates and looks down at the box in her hands. “Would you both like a candle?”

Albus glances at his dad, who seems slightly taken aback, but after a moment he nods and takes one of the candles from the box, and Albus follows suit. 

“Thank you,” Harry says, and Albus echoes him. 

“You’re welcome,” the woman says. “It’s our pleasure to have you both here.” She gives them a little nod, then moves across to offer the candles to Draco and Scorpius. As she does, Albus notices that the people in the crowd are beginning to turn back around and stop staring, like they’ve realised the impact they were having.

Harry looks down at his candle and picks at the wick, then he draws his wand, lights it, and offers the flame to Albus. Albus lights his candle from Harry’s and watches the wax start to melt, pooling up at the base of the wick and dribbling down the sides. He catches it and lets it set on his finger, then cracks it off and looks around. 

Harry has lit Draco’s candle, and now Draco is lighting Scorpius’s, the tiny flame flickering in the breeze as it passes between them. All the candles are lit now. The road is full of people, maybe 30, maybe more. They stand shoulder to shoulder, heads bowed, silent, candles bathing their faces in pale light. No one speaks but there’s nothing that needs to be said. On this night, in this place, actions have always spoken much louder than words. 

Albus presses against his dad’s side, and Harry slips an arm round his shoulder and holds him close. It’s warm and comforting, and Albus is flooded with a sense of love and family and gratitude. 

This time last year had felt so isolating. Just him and Scorpius, trapped and alone, not even sure how to save themselves, let alone the world. And then when the adults had come it hadn’t felt much better. There had been no one with them, they were just seven small figures in the darkness and the cold, desperately trying to bring some light to the world. 

But now there are all these people here, all these people who have left the safety and warmth of their homes to stand in this street and remember. All these people who want to be with them, who want to be with James and Lily. And the street is glowing with candlelight, from the pumpkins and from the vigil, as they all think about the acts of love and bravery and kindness that continue to keep the darkness at bay.

Albus glances across at Scorpius and sees that Draco is hugging him very tight. He sees Draco plant a kiss onto the top of Scorpius’s head, over the wool of the bobble hat, and he sees Scorpius close his eyes, a small, sad smile on his face. He looks at the strangers in the crowd, old people and young people, people who might have known James and Lily, or who might just have read about them in the history books. All these ordinary people, just like James and Lily and Harry once were. Just another family, living and loving as best as they could. 

The Potters are still just an ordinary family, Albus thinks, in all the ways that matter. Maybe their names and faces are famous, but when they’re at home they’re just like everyone else, goading and fighting and teasing and making up and having fun. They just happen to have this house in their history, where their family has been torn apart and stitched back together over so many years.

Time ticks by, crystal clear and relentless, pulling them further into the future where everything is healed and everything is okay. And as midnight approaches there’s a crackling energy in the air, and the sense of love and gratitude becomes overwhelming. Albus can feel his dad’s tears falling, hot and wet in his hair, and he hugs him tighter, holding him up. 

In the distance, St Jerome’s clock strikes midnight. Twelve chimes that ring through the night, resonating with everyone, right to the heart. And as the last echo fades there’s complete silence and stillness for a moment, a respect for the collective knowledge that right here, in a different time, something momentous has just happened. 

When the moment fades, in complete silence, the villagers of Godric’s Hollow step forward and leave their candles in front of the gate, still burning, still bright, and then they walk away into the night, arms round each other, some pausing to put a hand on Harry’s arm as they pass by, until only Harry and Albus and Draco and Scorpius are left in front of the gate. 

Draco is the first to move. He walks up to the gate and sets his candle down at the base of the stone wall, then he brushes his hand along the top of the splintered gate with its chipped paintwork and bows his head. Scorpius goes over and joins him. He puts his candle next to his dad’s, then glances back at Harry and Albus. 

Albus gives Harry’s arm a gentle nudge. “Come on, Dad,” he whispers, and together he and his dad put their candles among all the rest of them and step back to look at the burning shrine outside the gate. 

“I’m glad we came,” Harry says, and Albus nods. “I’m glad you’re here too,” he says to Draco and Scorpius. 

“It’s not as if we had anywhere better to be,” Draco says, and Scorpius nods. 

“Who needs the feast,” Scorpius says. “When you can have-“ He gestures to the shrine, and the gate, and the house, and to Harry and Albus and his dad, and Albus smiles at him. 

“Maybe we can find some sweets when we get back to school. To make up for it.”

“Speaking of school,” Harry says, taking one final look at the shrine and the house, then shaking himself and looking around at the other three. “It’s late, and you two have lessons tomorrow. I think we should start heading back.”

Scorpius yawns and nods. “I like that idea.”

They all link arms and Apparate from outside the house back to Hogwarts. They walk up the drive together, Albus and Scorpius sticking side by side. They say goodbye to their dads at the castle doors. Albus gives Harry a crushing hug. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” Harry murmurs in his ear. 

“Thank you for letting me,” Albus whispers back. 

“It’s always my pleasure.”

Albus smiles and presses his face into his dad’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry replies, ruffling his hair and releasing him. 

Albus waits until Scorpius has finished hugging his dad goodbye, then they both wave to their dads and set off down into the dungeons.

They pull their pyjamas on and scramble into bed, and Albus digs out a bag of Pepper Imps, but Scorpius shakes his head and says he’s too tired for sugar. 

“I’m going to remember this,” Albus says. 

Scorpius yawns. “And I’m sure you’ll find a chance to blackmail me with it at some point.”

“Definitely.”

Scorpius smiles sleepily and lies back against his pillows. “I’ll look forward to that, but for now-“ He leans over and blows out the candle by his bed. “Goodnight, Albus. Happy Halloween.”

Albus thinks about the candles by the gate, still burning on through the night, he thinks about the warm glow in his heart, and he thinks about Lily tucking his dad in under the blanket, with so much love. He thinks about how glad he is that these days he can feel that love from his dad, that he can feel cared for, that he belongs, that he can feel proud to be a Potter. Then he blows out the candle by the side of his bed and snuggles down under his covers, feeling very content and very full up with love. “Happy Halloween,” he whispers.

[gothify1]

The endlessly enigmatic French-girl beauty aesthetic is something we aspire to year-around at Who What Wear. As Sophie Strobel, a French skincare expert with Paris-born cosmetics brand Talika , once told me, "The main difference between the French and American beauty routines is cultural. … [Americans] take a long, long time in the bathroom, and they have a precise routine." As Strobel says, "French women's beauty routine is less controlled, more natural, and instinctive. … We don't like pressure, and we tend to criticize the rules." What comes from all that rule breaking? Skincare, makeup, and haircare routines that involve as little fuss as possible and wind up producing an effortlessly fresh, chic result. That pared-down Parisian approach to beauty is what we're all about this summer. In pursuit of that, we editors rounded up a list of products that are simple to use, maybe even multitasking, and will wind up giving us glowy skin and tousled hair without it looking like we spent any more time than it takes to butter a croissant. Below, shop 23 low-maintenance summer beauty products our editors are adding to cart this month. "I was obsessed with this lightweight, non-greasy moisturizer last summer and promptly ran out. The cruelty-free formula is infused with non-toxic, good-for-you ingredients like rosewater, essential oils, and polyphenols. Now that sweaty weather is rolling around again, I'm gonna need a new tube of this STAT." "I just ran out of this French-made repairing hair oil, so looks likes it's time to make the splurge once again. It's totally worth it. I apply this ultra-hydrating, musky-smelling treatment to dirty hair, slick it back into a low chignon and leave it like that all day before shampooing at night. The formula protects my hair against UV damage and even pool water, which is especially important in the summer." "I've seen this freaky French foaming sheet mask on Instagram and think I finally need to try it. The mask bubbles up on your face as it works to unclog your pores thanks to red clay and bamboo charcoal." "The French-girl beauty is all about multitasking products that give you an all-over glow without it looking like you tried too hard. This new face-and-body gloss from Kevyn Aucoin does exactly that, and as someone obsessed with glowy skin, I need it for summer 2019."  "It's about time I stop stealing spritzes of this face mist from my roommate's bottle and just buy my own." "One whiff is all you need to know to see why this shampoo has earned a cult following." "The fashion girls I follow with the glowiest skin swear by this serum, so I think I need it now, too." "My dry, frizzy hair is in need of some serious TLC, and I'm excited to try this highly touted Elixir hair oil." "I have no shame—I'm buying it for the gimmicky name. But I'm genuinely hoping I will feel spoiled." "Will this be my savior to fix tired new-mom under-eye bags? Fingers crossed!" "I aspire to be one of those people who always has chic hand soap in their bathroom." "I've recently been upgrading from drugstore face washes and have heard great things about this new one from one of my favorite skincare brands." "Joanna Vargas calls this serum 'green juice for your skin.' I'd part with $85 for that." "There's a reason I never travel without Bioderma's micellar water. It's the best makeup remover I've ever used and allows me to cleanse my skin without water. I used to stock up on it in Paris but love that now it's just a click away." "Yes, another Bioderma pick because I love its whole line of affordable products. This body wash smells heavenly." "I'm obsessed with By Terry's mascara and always re-order even before I've even finished my current one for fear of ever getting stuck without it. I've been using it for years and have yet to find anything I like better." "I am rarely satisfied with eye creams but I have heard that this one provides noticeable results, so I am desperate to test it out." "This product claims to do it all as far as anti-aging is concerned, so I'm dying to give it a go. It brightens, firms, and protects—sounds like the holy trinity of beauty if you ask me." "This sunscreen has absurdly good reviews and is supposed to be great for acne-prone skin, so I'm excited to try it." "I deal with constant breakouts and I heard these wipes can be life-savers thanks to a mix of salicylic, lactic, and glycolic acids." "I am a huge Baby Feet fan because it delivers exactly what it promises: a fun weeknight activity plus shedding your foot skin like a snake. That was a fun sentence to write. Actually, though, it's the best way to get your feet in shape for sandal season. Yes, your feet will look crazy for a week or so and you will leave foot skin debris around your house, but trust me, it's way worth it." "These acne patches are the acne patches backed by every beauty person I've ever encountered. I can attest that they do, in fact, stop a pimple in its tracks. Catch spots on the early side for the best results. Plus the dots pretty much disappear on my skin. Because of this, I have been known to wear them to work on days without important meetings." "Huda Kattan said this exact product made the lines on her neck disappear. As someone who noticed her necklines for the first time recently, this product just rose to the top of my wish list, especially because it's unlikely that I'll stop my habit of looking down at my phone and wrinkling my neck for hours a day. It comes with a steep price tag, but Skin 111 has so many celeb fans including, Victoria Beckham and Martha Hunt, that I'm convinced it's worth it." Next: 18 Items From Nordstrom's Beauty Department That Will Give You Flawless Skin

[infinite-beginnings]

Can you write how you think bughead will get together?

Betty walked like a zombie, Jughead’s words about needing to see Polly echoing over and over inside her head. She felt like she was being pulled in two different directions. Part of her wanted to keep Polly safe so she could get better. That part of her was afraid that seeing Betty and answering her questions, would send her sister into another downward spiral.

But another part of her thirsted for the truth. She needed to know what exactly had happened with Jason and Polly. She needed to figure out what happened to Jason, especially if her parents were involved. That part of her wanted to do anything necessary to find the truth.

Betty went back and forth, weighing the pros and cons, each side of her battling to be the winner.

“Did I overstep?” Betty was torn out of her thoughts by the soft words of the boy walking next to her. She had completely forgotten that Jughead had offered to walk her home. She stopped and looked at him. He was watching her with an intent and slightly nervous expression. “Because I’ve been going over it in my head and I feel like I overstepped. I pride myself in my ability to stay objective, I think that’s what makes me the perfect person to write this story. But for you it is anything but objective. It’s about your sister, your sister’s fiance, and your parents. So I’m sorry if I overstepped by suggesting your parents had something to do with Jason or by saying we needed to talk to Polly-”

“Juggie” Betty put her hand on his arm to stop him, because he looked like he would’ve kept on talking. He got very talkative and tended to ramble when he was nervous. Jughead looked down at her hand and then back up at her face, he was biting his lip.

“Betty, I’m-”

“You better not be about to say that you’re sorry.” Betty interrupted him again. “Because you have nothing to be sorry for. Your brutal honesty, objectivity, and desire to find the truth is why I choose you to help me figure everything out.”

“Really? Cause my brutal honesty has lost me a few friends.” Jughead said with a dry laugh.

“Not me. Everyone else in town seems to have an agenda, but you just say what you feel. I like that. Most people would’ve tiptoed around the subject of my parents or Polly. But you didn’t. I appreciate that about you Jughead.” Betty said firmly. Jughead was looking at her like she had two heads. Betty smiled and looped her arm through his. She pulled gently and they continued their walk to her house. He walked her all the way up to her front door. From the darkness inside, Betty could tell that her dad was not home yet, and her mom was still away. Jughead released her arm and stepped away. Betty felt the cold air brush her where his arm had been.

“Goodnight Betts.” Jughead gave her a small smile and turned away

“Night Juggie.” She responded. She opened up her front door and stared into the empty darkness beyond. She was suddenly filled with an overwhelming desire not to be alone. She spun back around and yelled at Jughead’s retreating form, “Jughead!” He froze immediately and turned to look at her, his eyes wide with alarm.

“Betts?” He relaxed slightly when he saw she was okay, but he could tell that something was wrong. Jughead started walking back to her. “What’s wrong?” Betty waited until he had once again joined her on her front steps before she answered.

“I just…Do you wanna come in and stay for a little while? My dad’s not home yet and I um…”

“Of course.” Jughead nodded and Betty knew that he understood why she was asking.

“Thanks” Betty gave a sigh of relief and walked into the house, Jughead following her. They went up to her room and Betty laughed when Jughead threw himself on her bed like he owned the place. He stretched out, looking completely comfortable there. She supposed he was, after all, Jughead had been coming up to her room since they were 8 years old. He had been in here, lying just like that on her bed countless times.

So why did it suddenly make her stomach flutter to see him lying there? Why did he suddenly seem out of place amongst her girly pink room? What had changed?

“What?” Jughead finally noticed her staring at him. He sat up and leaned against her headboard. “What’s wrong?” Betty pushed her current thoughts away and sat down next to Jughead.

“I’m just worried about my sister. I want to see her, I really do. Plus, she is the only one who can fill in some of these blanks, but…”

“But you’re worried about the effect our questions might have on her.” Jughead finished for her.

“Yes” Betty leaned her head against his shoulder. It felt so comforting, so right, sitting there with him. He never failed to make her feel safe. That was something that would never change.

“Betty, I promise you, if we get in to see your sister, we won’t do anything that could hurt her.” Jughead’s breath was warm on the top of her head as he leaned against it. “We will take it slow, and at the first sign of trouble, we will stop. Getting the truth is not nearly as important as your sister.”

“Thanks Juggie.” Betty lifted her head up to smile at him. She brushed back a piece of hair that had fallen over his forehead. “I’m really glad I have you.” She dropped her hand and leaned her head back on his shoulder. “So, how do we get in to see my sister?”

“That sounds like a problem that can be solved tomorrow. I think we’ve done enough today.”

“Works for me” Betty responded, but her mind was already thinking of possible ways she could get in to see her sister. First, she had to figure out the name of the hospital where her sister was. Maybe her parents had a bill or something from it. After that, she could figure out what the security was like and if there was any way of getting past it…

“Betty?” Jughead once again brought her from her thoughts

“Hmm?”

“How are you and Archie?”

“What?” Betty sat up suddenly at the odd question and looked at Jughead. He wasn’t looking at her, but rather at his hands, which were twisting nervously together.

“I mean, you guys had a rough patch recently, are you 100% better?”

“Yeah, we’re back to being best friends Juggie, you don’t have to worry about that” Betty assured him, thinking that was what was on his mind. But Jughead shook his head and asked another surprising question,

“And what about you? Are you…okay with being friends?” Jughead looked up at her with a surprisingly shy expression.

“Are you asking me if I’m over him?” Betty clarified

“Yes” Jughead responded slowly.

“Well…” Betty thought for a moment, wanting to make sure that she gave Jughead an honest answer, “Yes, I think I am. I was upset and hurt for a while, but once I had a little space I realized that I was more into the idea of dating Archie than the reality of dating him.”

“What do you mean?” Jughead furrowed his brow in the cute way he did when he was trying to understand something.

“I mean I had this idea of me, the perfect student and cheerleader, dating Archie, the perfect boy and football player. You know like in all of the stories. I just thought that we were supposed to be together, that dating was where our story was bound to end. But after he told me that he didn’t like me, and after Ms. Grundy I realized…” Betty cut off, biting her lip and looking away. Jughead put his hands over hers, squeezing them reassuringly.

“You realized what?”

“That Archie wasn’t perfect and neither was I. And the fairy tale romance I had cooked up in my head was exactly that, imaginary.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself Betts”

“I’m not, this was a good thing. My mother has always convinced me that I needed to be perfect and that there was this box that I needed to fit into, but I’m slowly realizing that I don’t want to be perfect and I don’t want to be put in a box. I want to be myself and date someone whom I can be myself with. Someone who is okay with my mistakes, someone who also doesn’t fit into a box.” As Betty finished talking she realized that without even knowing it, she had been talking about Jughead. He was someone who knew about and accepted her flaws. He never backed down from her crazy and he never made her feel like her emotions were invalid.

“So, you don’t regret telling Archie how you felt, even though it could’ve messed up your friendship?” Jughead’s words were barely a whisper.

“No, I’m glad I took the chance. I would’ve just kept pinning away otherwise.” Betty reached up and lay one of her hands on his cheek. His eye’s widened in surprise, but he leaned into her touch.

“Betty, there’s something I’ve got to say” He said breathlessly, eyes locked on hers. Betty put her other hand so she was cupping his face and moved closer to him, enjoying the way he looked at her in shock and awe.

“And what is that?” She asked, even though she already knew. She could tell by the line of questioning and the way Jughead was acting that he felt the same way about her as she did him. But she wanted him to say the words.

“I hate boxes”

“What?” Betty said with a laugh, that had not been at all what she had been expecting. Jughead leaned over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her until she was half on his lap.

“I hate boxes,” He said again, “And I like that you don’t fit into one. You are unique and amazing and beautiful and I’ve had a crush on you for a while. So if you’d have me, I’d love to make mistakes, break rules, and be outside of the box with you.” Betty laughed again in pure joy, looking up at the beautiful boy in front of her, his green eyes shining intensely as he looked at her. As a response, Betty pushed their lips together. She heard Jughead’s surprised gasp before he recovered and kissed her back. His mouth was warm and sweet and everything she could’ve dreamed of. She was disappointed when he finally tore his mouth from hers.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.” He said in a rough whisper. Betty rolled her eyes at him, always the jokester.

“That was my answer dummy” She replied, and before he could come out with a single witty word, her mouth was on his again.

Thanks so much for the prompt!!! I hope you liked it. And thank you everyone for being patient for me. It takes me a little while to answer these sometimes, but I promise I will get to them all! I love you guys!!!